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sarahghetti · 9 months ago

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moving day; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how marc and steven learn to live together, how you come to live with them, and how jake finally lets himself live at all.

warnings: basically a BIG character study into our boys, fluff, hurt and comfort, angst, insecurity, mentions of marc's childhood, mentions of violence, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

word count: 9.9k

notes: this one got away from me and might also be the best thing I've ever written (i'm very proud of it 😭). part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'is that my shirt?'”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Even though it was (and still is) under Marc’s name, the flat was Steven’s first. Marc just helped set it up a little.

He rented out the first decent unit he found in the city and kept every piece of mismatched furniture the previous tenant left behind. The essentials had to be filled in himself—a bed, couch, and desk. A table to go with that rickety stool to eat meals on, a coat rack near the doorway. The only belongings of his own that Marc left behind were his old Egyptology texts, unceremoniously shoved into a corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that he hoped Steven would like.

(The fish was unexpected, though. Steven already had everything he would need, and it was Marc’s mistake to be scrolling through Facebook Marketplace on one of his last days before he handed it all over to his alter. A complete aquarium set was being offered for next to nothing; attached: a photo of the original poster’s late goldfish. Backlit from the tank light, blank faced and innocent.

He just couldn’t move on.)

But it was Steven who then took Marc’s—their—card and ran with it. Every free surface was prime real estate for another journal, another tomb. The used bookstores of London never stood a chance; it was almost impressive to watch him scour the shelves for the most esoteric topics and still come out with his arms full of what he was looking for. Marc would wake up in the body to find Steven’s collection a little bigger than before and ghost his fingers over the spines during those brief moments of respite before having to put on the suit.

It didn’t stop at the books. Of course, it didn’t. Steven’s always had an affinity for oddities. Marc wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the new paper lantern hung over the living room, or the pumpkin-esque footstool that was coloured as though it was plucked off the vine just a tad too early.

The pieces were quaint at best. If there were any psychological meaning as to why his alter gravitated towards dingy, threadbare upholstery instead of an IKEA like a normal person, it was beyond Marc.

However, he couldn’t not admit that it all kind of worked once put together; the clashing mix of materials and colours sort of became its own style when combined under the wooden rafters. Even when the books started overfilling the storage capacity and ended up in piles on the floor—it only added to the charm.

Marc was sure to erase every trace of his presence around the flat to avoid interfering with Steven’s life, but that didn’t stop the sense of longing to return to their—Steven’s—home during missions.

It was still a mess. A mess where everything has its place, yes, but there was no way that Steven could trip over several odds-and-ends in one day and claim that he was any degree of neat or tidy. Marc silently griped to himself about it all the time, but he’d sooner eat that dusty-ass rug Steven got for free before he saw anything get thrown away.

(It was like this back when they were kids, too. Marc’s childhood bedroom in Chicago—a room he never finds himself thinking about outside of his nightmares—was filled with joy. Medals from peewee baseball. Posters from his favourite movies, carefully smoothened out and taped to the walls by his dad. Drawings by him and Randall piled at the corner of his desk.

Right after the—the accident, all his stuff remained, immortalized in place. As if keeping everything the same would somehow also make Marc’s life the same as it was before, and Randall would come bursting through his door at any moment to ask him to come play. It was an overarching belief in their household. Even on her worst days, his mother’s anger never touched their home. Only him.

But then things began to change. His old action figures, collecting dust, would be strewn about the floor, waiting for someone to continue the battle. A collection of particularly smooth rocks began appearing on his windowsill despite the fact that he hadn’t gone outside in days. He’d wake up to grass-stained jeans and a scraped knee which Marc didn’t know how he got, for once.

Steven has always been like a crow, bringing all these little gifts for Marc to enjoy—these signs of life—even when he wasn’t aware of it.)

Coming back from Cairo feels like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was, but after the dust settled on Harrow and Layla decided to return stateside alone—a decision that seemed a long time coming, if Steven’s being honest—there was nothing else to do other than to go home.

They have one blissful, uninterrupted day of sleep. Steven was the one to wake up sixteen hours later, mouth dry, and instinctively panicked at the thought of losing days again before realizing that Marc was also (and still is) out cold.

When he finally woke up a few hours later, half-asleep even in the reflection of the mirror, Steven couldn’t help himself from asking, “What now, Marc?”

Because Marc was the original. Marc was the one with a real life and legal status. He might never want to walk the streets of Chicago again, but that didn’t change the fact that he only came overseas to run away. Everything around them was a temporary measure.

Marc straightens. “I won’t bother you too much, I promise.”

“You still have your own life,” Steven reminds him.

“Still—”

“Oh, don’t start—”

At least they agreed on one thing: they were going to stay in London.

Marc cleans out his storage unit, bringing home an array of bins and duffel bags and that shitty fold-up cot that he still refuses to toss. Steven immediately got him his own dresser when Marc tried to insist that he ‘didn’t have much’; that was a blaring warning that he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial, and Steven had to put his foot down before a nearby charity got a donation of some well-loved button-downs.

It’s almost funny, how predicable Marc was when unpacking. Steven watched as he pushed all their new furniture against the walls then methodically unpacked bin by bin, stacking the empties inside one another like Russian dolls. Like Steven, everything he owned had a place, even after months spent stored away. Marc was just a lot more neat about it.

“Move my stuff if you want,” Steven pipes up. Marc doesn’t react, only continuing to store his notebooks on top of a filing cabinet. “Really, I’ve already read everything on that middle shelf there—we can put them somewhere else.”

Marc glances around the bookshelves. “Aren’t these alphabetized?”

“Well, mostly, but give me an hour or two and I’ll free up some space.”

It’s like a puzzle, and Steven’s always liked puzzles. Marc’s gone quiet in their head, out of excuses as to why he can just shove all his belongings out-of-sight so that Steven wouldn’t have to go through the effort. Now, if he would just believe Steven, then he’d know that reorganizing his books was hardly any effort at all.

And even if it was—he’s been meaning to do this for a while. An alphabetized collection is great until he gets a new book, because then everything has to be shifted over, and—well. There’s a reason why there were so many books languishing on the floor.

They pass off the body like that for the rest of the day, moving things around in the flat in order to accommodate Marc. It looks no less hectic in the end, despite Marc’s best efforts to tidy up a little, but it also doesn’t look any worse, which Steven sees as a win.

There are still so many things they need to talk about. Scheduling, routines, the fact that they’re currently both out of a job—either one would be lying if they said that this new life didn’t make them a bit nervous. But when Marc finally flops down onto their bed, a movement as easy as breathing, the pieces begin to settle into place. The last of his bins have been put away. His jacket hangs beside Steven’s as if it’s always been there.

In the headspace, Steven beams. Whatever comes, however hard—they’ll face it together.

Somehow, Steven wakes up one day and feels great.

There are a few minutes more until his alarm goes off, but he turns it off early. The usual grogginess that accompanies him this early is completely absent, and he rolls up to a seated position without a single mental or physical protest. He feels so good, in fact, that he even considers skipping his morning cup of tea.

(He doesn’t, of course. They quickly figured out—well, Steven did, Marc already knew—that they differed in their caffeinated beverages of choice. Steven, a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold with a healthy splash of milk and a teaspoon or two of sugar. Marc, a simple drip coffee, black, made from the most generic-looking brand of medium roast beans.

Not to say that he wishes to be separate from Marc or anything of the sort, but Steven imagines his feelings to be like that of a sibling who was always dressed in matching clothes as his brother. Marc might’ve graced Steven with an interest in Egyptology from his mercenary work and Gus from his—their?—brother’s drawing a lifetime ago, but as far as they know, his preference for tea was just a quirk.

Steven likes having something just for him.)

Marc had the body last night—he must’ve gone to bed early. Must’ve drank camomile tea and avoided blue light the entire time he was fronting because Steven could run a marathon like this and still go into work afterwards. He’s about to ask Marc for his secret when he spots an unfamiliar rumple of fabric on the pillow where he laid his head.

“What’s this now?” Steven murmurs, gathering the soft material in his hands. A woman’s sweater, obviously, with its feminine cut and style and faintly sweet scent that short-circuits his brain for a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize how it got inside their flat, what with how there’s a whole other person living in his head, and it would explain the strange marks he found on his neck the other day—

Heat blooms in his face and Steven nearly drops the sweater back onto the pillow in embarrassment. Distantly, he knows that he should’ve seen this coming. Marc is Marc; Steven’s witnessed the quiet confidence the man extrudes from inside their headspace and the resulting, ah, attention it attracts.

In the corner of his eye, his reflection stills. Steven doesn’t even bother turning around—just holds up the offending sweater and asks, “Fun night?”

Marc, strangely, is quiet. It’s not like he’s one to talk about his romantic pursuits, but Steven at least expected a dry comment or two. He shakes the sweater like a bag of treats until Marc scowls. “Stop that.”

“Not judging,” Steven says, “but don’t suppose you got a number? Should I make a run to the donation bin for you?”

“No.” There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, and he purses his lips when he realizes that he responded a little too fast; Steven’s questioning look is pointedly ignored. “Just leave it on my desk for now.”

“Is she coming back or is this just like a—” Steven makes an ambiguous gesture, full of innuendo “—thing for you?”

“What? No—what?”

“Okay, okay,” Steven finally lets up because the groove between his alter’s eyebrows has become something fierce. He slips out of bed to place the sweater on Marc’s desk as requested, then throws one more comment over his shoulder for good measure, “Bring her home for dinner one day, would you?”

“Steven!”

“Is that my shirt?” You move towards the armchair, a smile tugging at your lips as you pick up the folded garment. It’s been freshly laundered. Marc wouldn’t burden you if he could help it.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t stir from his seat on the couch, tracking your movements with fondness in his eyes. You’ve been to their place plenty over the past few months and quietly, he relishes in the domesticity.

They’re simple things, like knowing your preferred spoon in their drawer or how you like your toast; the ease in which you curl into the cushions next to him—your spot, he can’t help but note—draws a contented little sigh from him.

“You know, if you want me to do your laundry, you can just ask.”

He would. Steven would prod endlessly as he does with all things related to you, but Marc’s managed to get this far with vague explanations and stubborn hand-waving. He’d endure the nosiness if it were for you.

“Although,” he continues, giving you a once-over. His eyebrow quirks at the familiar cotton long-sleeve enveloping your torso. “I’m not even sure you have laundry anymore.”

“Well, maybe if your clothes weren’t so comfortable, I’d stop stealing them,” you tease.

(His clothes aren’t boring, Steven, just—utilitarian. Between Khonshu and his mercenary work, Marc needed plain, flexible pieces; ones that made him blend in anywhere and ready for anything. Nothing that he could get too attached too, either. Everything he wore was at risk of getting ruined by grime and/or blood and/or tearing from various weapons. Of course, he doesn’t own anything ‘nice.’

Not like Steven. Not with his hodgepodge closet filled with colours and patterns, everything just a tad too large on their frame. Marc groans about it every time he takes over in the middle of the day—just a size down, just one. But the issue is that Steven likes it like that, likes the comfort and roominess he finds in his thrifted pieces, and so Marc dropped it as a serious topic, even though he still doesn’t quite get it.)

“This why you had to wear my jacket the other day?”

Steven’s sudden appearances don’t phase Marc anymore, even when you’re around. He just gives him a slight nod without missing a beat. “At this rate, I won’t have any clothes left for you to take.”

“Guess I’ll just have to borrow something from Steven then, hm?”

Before Marc can even begin to think about what to say to that— “I think my white jumper would suit her really well.”

He shoots a glare into a nearby mirror and just barely catches a glimpse of Steven’s grin in the reflection. Part of him wants to tell Steven to stop hitting on his girlfriend, but hesitates when you look at him expectantly, still waiting for his response.

He’s not ashamed of Steven, far from it. Still, a sliver of self-consciousness worms its way into his chest at the thought of talking to him in front of you. He’s done it before, but—he knows how it can look.

You’re more perceptive than he’d like. Marc sees the moment when it clicks in your head. “Is he here right now?”

Excitement bleeds into your voice. You’ve been wanting to meet Steven for a while. Marc showing up to a date with tousled curls and a colourfully-printed button-up instead of his usual streamlined style, a slew of scribbled papers piled onto the armchair you like to lounge on, a sticky note left on one of your books (‘oooh good choice! x’)—all these things that sent panic strumming through his veins were only ever endearing to you, for some reason. It’s lessened his worry by orders of magnitude.

Still. Letting you meet Steven is one step closer to talking about his childhood. His mom. His brother. He’s given you a high- high-level view of things (“It wasn’t great.”), but the thought of going any further makes his throat tighten. There’s a whole failed marriage that proves his inability to be vulnerable.

So, it must truly be a bout of madness that makes him say, “The white one.”

“What?”

“The white sweater,” Marc continues, because he’s already thrown himself off the bridge—there’s no use trying to backtrack now. “He says you’d look good in his white sweater.”

Your face slowly morphs into an expression of pure joy; you do nothing short of jump off the couch to bolt to their bedroom. Steven chatters excitedly in his ear, only pausing momentarily when you slip off Marc’s shirt.

“Oh! Um! She’s—she’s very—wow—" Marc feels the strangest urge to punch himself in the face again—

—And then you reappear into their field of view, a dream in fine knit. Steven’s sweater be damned, your beaming smile is more than enough to render them both speechless.

“How do I look?”

The sweater isn’t his, but it stirs the same syrupy feelings in Marc anyway. You’ve spoken about it before—and him privately with Steven—where Steven stands in your relationship with Marc. All he’s ever let himself hope for was for you and Steven to be cordial, maybe even friends. Of course, he’d have to actually let you guys speak to each other for any of that to be possible, but you two seem to have grown comfortable with each other regardless.

Now, he sees you in Steven’s clothes and his thoughts run rampant. Ours. He tests out the word and his heart skips a beat. It’s always been a possibility; one you all were open to if it ever happened. But he could never ask either of you to try to love each other on his behalf.

God, that word does something stupid to his brain—Steven’s rattling off compliments and other things of his you should try on and invites to go thrifting—and Marc just sits there, dumbfounded by his own hypothetical scenario. “Come on, Marc, say something!”

You move to stand in front of him, and his thighs part automatically to have you close. It takes your hand on his cheek, gentle as you stroke your thumb over his skin, to pull him back to reality. “You okay?”

“You look incredible.” His voice dips in the way he knowsmakes your stomach swoop, and is promptly rewarded with your flustered smile. The moment doesn’t last—not with Steven cooing in his ear over you.

A pang of possessiveness runs through Marc. That smile was for him, thank you very much.

His mouth works faster than his brain. “Steven has something to tell you.”

You light up. “Really?”

“Wants to tell you himself, actually.”

Steven splutters, nerves coming on in full force. Marc bites his tongue to keep a straight face. “Well, now, hang on a minute—”

Steven’s introduction was always going to be a well-thought-out but casual event, as to not make a circus out of it. It was just who they were, after all. They wouldn’t switch in front of you—Steven would change into his wardrobe and ‘do’ his hair beforehand; Marc worried it might be too much for you to see him but hear Steven. He would’ve prepped you both plenty in the preceding days, regardless of how necessary it was.

It definitely would not be the stunt he’s pulling right now.

Your eyes narrow at the placid look on his face, too casual to not be suspicious, but meeting Steven must outweigh the want to catch Marc in the act of whatever he’s planning because you don’t call him out, hands frozen on his face. It’s cute, watching you struggle between overt enthusiasm and not wanting to pressure them into anything.

Marc would even enjoy it a little longer if it weren’t for the confused and alarmed word vomit spilling out in his head.

“Stop messing about—I mean, it’s not—not odd, yeah? For me to front a little? Just a little chat, can’t be all that bad. Please be messing with me, but I can do it, s’not a big deal. Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever—oh, boy."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Marc quiets him with a steady glance into the mirror. “You sure, buddy?”

Slightly shrill but no less serious, “Are you sure, Marc?”

And then Marc’s fun little charade teeters on its head—is he ready for this? You and Steven wouldn’t hold it against him if he pulled the plug on it all right now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. The band-aid has to come off, lest he lets this fester for the length of another relationship.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his flare of panic comforted by the patience in your eyes. More confidently this time, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steven’s smile is clear in his voice. It mirrors your own.

“About time, innit?”

Moving into their flat isn’t a decision you make all at once, but rather a slow, steady conclusion that you’ve been unintentionally working towards ever since you first visited.

The clothes were just the start. It’s not like you didn’t have perfectly good clothes before you met Marc, but his were just better somehow. Soft and simple, all in that neutral colour scheme he seemed to gravitate towards. The warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric, making you want to bury your nose into the garments and go right back to the source—

You just couldn’t help yourself from borrowing something whenever you came over.

(That pleased, half-lidded gaze you receive each time you slip on his shirt, or his heated touch whenever he drapes his jacket over your shoulders during chilly morning afters—well. Those are just a bonus.)

So, maybe you left a shirt or two behind in the process. And maybe you realized that you should probably have a pair of sweatpants there as well, and a good book to read during quiet nights in. Once, you forgot your toothbrush only for Marc to pull out an extra from their medicine cabinet; now you have a toothbrush in their bathroom.

After you finally met Steven and his adorable, eclectic self—all bets were off. You bond while scouring vintage shops and finding new pieces for the flat. A little basket of throw blankets gets added to the living room (always neatly sorted by Marc, without fail). Candles—tall and stout, festive and fruity and spiced—start to litter the shelves. A particularly good haul at a used bookstore, a bit heavy for you to carry home, is instead slotted amongst their collection; the contemporary fonts and colourful covers are a stark contrast against the yellowing older texts, and you love it.

Your fingerprints are all over the place by the time Marc officially empties some space in his dresser for you, uncharacteristically avoiding your eyes as he speaks, “Just in case you wanted to keep some more stuff here.”

You were already using their closets before then (in both the storing-your-clothes sense and the stealing-their-clothes sense); you’ve practically taken over one of his drawers. But to give you one outright, to admit that he’s carved out some space just for you instead of silently accommodating your things as he always has—

“Thank you, Marc,” you whisper, brimming with emotion that you wonder if you’ll ever be able to fully express. He’ll flit about and clean and care for you because words will never capture the depth of his feelings. You see this for what it is, like all the gestures that have come before: a declaration.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and press a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

It’s not much long after when Steven comes home from work grinning like a madman, one hand held behind his back. He beelines towards you, not even bothering to put his bag down.

“Hey, you.” You peck his lips and feel his smile stretch impossibly wider. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The words come out in a rush. “Havesomethingforyou.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.” You can’t help but laugh a little as you follow the direction; Steven’s excitement is utterly infectious. “Okay, now hold out your hand.”

“If you give me a bug, I swear to God—”

“I would never.” His seriousness is a bit too heavy-handed, and you get a feeling you’re going to need to be on guard for a while.

You’re distracted, however, by the brush of his skin as he places something small and rigid into your palm. The metal is warm from being clasped inside his hand, but the shape is so familiar that you recognize what it is immediately.

“You can open—”

You’re already looking down—at the silver key to the flat nestled in your hand. Lonesome without the Koala plushie on Steven’s keyring, without the little charm you got for Marc’s—no, it’s meant to be your copy.

“We were thinking, right,” he starts before your heart has the opportunity to beat right out your chest, “Marc and I—well, you’re here with us most of the time. You should have your own key. Beats having to come grab mine from the museum, right?”

You let out a choked little laugh, too caught up to remind him that the only reason why you went to the museum was because else he would’ve dropped everything to deliver the keys himself. Spent his entire break and then some to commute back home so that you wouldn’t have to wait for his shift to be over, even though you could’ve amused yourself just fine outside until then.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to get out before stepping forward, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steven’s love is unbridled; he holds you close, going on about how glad he is—how glad they both are—to have you, how he was practically bouncing off the walls at the locksmith, waiting for the key to be cut.

They’ve been your home for so long now that while the new addition onto your keyring makes you giddy and smile stupidly whenever you get to use it, it also just feels right. You go grocery shopping with Marc and watch him scrutinize apples like they personally offended him. Steven tangles your legs together as you wind down in the evenings, and always always smiles whenever he catches you looking at him. You rank the restaurants around the neighbourhood and line your favourite mugs beside each other on the shelf; you sit in the comforting quiet of the flat and wonder how you got so lucky.

When it’s eventually time to renew your lease, there’s no decision to be made. You’re relieved from dinner prep to write the email to your landlord on their couch. It’s sent off with no fanfare and quickly forgotten about when Marc’s voice rings out, asking what you want to eat.

“Anything,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips; he hates it when you say that. Marc grumbles a little, but you mean it this time. You have them and they have you. Curled up in one of Steven’s sweaters, Marc’s playlist on low in the background—anything is just fine by you.

You are the bane of Jake’s existence.

First, you meet Marc. Terrible. Khonshu is riding his ass about a mission in Liverpool—they’ve now been geolocked to stay under the radar—and Marc plans a date. An actual, Godforsaken date with a set time, throwing a wrench into their plans because Steven’s been scheduled to work on the surrounding days as well. How is he supposed to sneak off to the other side of the country now?

Even worse, you stick around. There are more dates between the two of you. For how much he hates texting, Marc responds promptly whenever you send him something. He frets over what to wear before picking you up. You stay over at the flat and he holds you in his sleep like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; Jake has been unluckily enough to wake up in the middle of the night, planning to slip away, only to be hit with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Then—and then—Marc has the bright idea to introduce you to Steven. The hope that this is just a casual, temporary thing is dashed away the second Jake sees that lovesick expression on the idiota. It’s more overt than Marc’s, but still the same blaring warning sign that Jake’s life is only about to get harder from here.

Keeping a low profile has become incredibly difficult since the others decided to be normal. Marc never questioned whenever Jake took over in a tight spot, too hyped up on adrenaline and too stubborn about their condition to follow up on his blackouts after the fight was done. Steven was clueless about everything for those first few months, then just blamed his blackouts on Marc.

But now? They talk to each other. They have a year-long calendar on the fridge with a magnetic pen holder to keep track of their schedules, colour-coded blue (for Marc) and green (for Steven). They’ve gotten distracted and added another consciousness for Jake to deceive in order to do his thing. He can’t take the body for more than a few hours, and certainly not by force, without drawing suspicion.

Jake’s happy for them. Really, he is. They’ve finally begun to move on from the trauma of their childhood into something that resembles a normal life. Steven’s gotten rehired at the museum as a tour guide. Marc’s taken up security consulting. And despite their respective anxiousness and ten-foot-walls, you bring them peace.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Khonshu’s avatar now. That a lifetime ago, when the work began to wear down on Marc in all the worst ways, Jake was the one who cut a deal with the god for his release. All he had to do was take his place.

(Foresight might not be his strong suit, but he refuses to take responsibility for what happened next. He could never have imagined all the puppetry that’d occur with Layla in the mix, or that they’d actually divorce one of these days and end up with someone new.

Except this time, you know about their system and not about Khonshu. He wonders how well you’d take that whole mess.)

In short—Marc and Steven still need him. He can’t just up and disappear into the recesses of their mind; he has a job to do.

So, when Steven presses that fucking key into your hand, Jake’s so frustrated he could scream. Unfettered access to the flat—as if you weren’t there enough already. As if he weren’t already jumping through every hoop imaginable, just to keep his existence a secret. He would’ve made them drop the copy down the nearest gutter on the way home if he didn’t know that they would simply go right back to the locksmith and ask for another.

Steven watches as you slip it onto your keychain; that all-encompassing, vibrant burst of joy in their chest be damned—you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jake, even if you might be the best thing to ever happen to them.

Steven had the flat, Marc had his storage unit, and Jake?

Jake has his car.

Multiple, actually, but the limousine is the legal one (thanks for your identity, Marc) and serves as his homebase. Supplies are stashed in compartments around the cabin—weapons, clothes, cash—and with its heavily tinted windows, he can do anything he wants inside and passersby would be none the wiser. When Khonshu’s booming voice echoes around his brain about some new target, at least Jake can recline into a soft leather seat.

The only issue is that he can’t keep everything there. No, the parking garage is a fair distance away from the flat and sometimes, he doesn’t have the opportunity to make the trip before setting off. This means that he has to keep a change of clothes in the flat to avoid accidentally ruining some of Steven’s or Marc’s. He’d never actually wear anything of Steven’s to begin with (at least, not on a mission), but Marc’s wardrobe is minimal by choice—if something went missing or got a new, unexplained hole in it, he’d notice.

That’s why Jake is currently slinking through their living room, ready to change back into Steven’s pajamas before hiding his clothes on the loft above their bed. Nothing up there but empty bins and poster tubes. Marc regularly dusts the area during his monthly deep cleans, so Jake doesn’t even have to worry about leaving behind any tracks.

It was an easy job tonight, done in little less than an hour and not a speck on Jake to show for it. He could take a shower if he wanted—you’re staying over at a friend’s place right now, as noted in red on the calendar. But he shouldn’t keep the body for longer than necessary; they still need sleep, after all.

He slips off his flat cap, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. God, they’re getting old. Even this stolen hour will be felt by whoever wakes up in the morning, slightly slower and groggier than usual.

(Jake doesn’t think about the future—has never needed to. The only future that exists to him is the next minute, and the minute after that, and what he has to do to ensure the body makes it there. Him and Marc were similar in that aspect for a long, long time.

That calendar on the fridge, while helpful to his vigilantism, stirs something uncomfortable in his gut. He’s seen them flip through the months to mark down birthdays and reservations. Vacations, work events—Marc’s going on a completely normal, non-violent work trip, which Jake still can’t quite wrap his head around—and it’s all so far ahead.

How can they be so sure that nothing will change between now and then? That their life won’t blow up again, and force them on the run? Everything they add is just another handful of salt to be pressed into the wound when it all goes to hell. But they still write things on that stupid calendar. Confident, excited even, about the plans they think will come to pass.

How do they know?)

There’s a rustling in the bedroom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—

“Marc?”

You shift a little under the covers, trying to peer at him through the darkness. Jake’s never been more grateful for Marc’s sensible taste in fashion; with only a silhouette to go by, of course you’d mistake him for Marc—straight-cut jeans, a collared jacket. His flat cap would tip you off though, and he presses it into his chest to hide it from your line of sight. Marc would never wear a flat cap.

He forces a casual tone. “Hm?”

A small sigh of relief escapes you as your head falls back onto the pillow. Still watching him, though, you mumble, “Bad dream?”

You know about Marc’s time in the military and as a mercenary. Not everything, obviously, but enough. Jake nods, and can imagine the worried purse of your lips in the shadows. In the best impression he can manage, his accent turns Chicagoan. “Just had to take a walk.”

If he were really Marc, he’d already be in bed by now, letting you brush curls away from his face and press a kiss against the furrow of his brow. If he were really Marc, he’d ask you why you were back here instead of with your friends as expected, and you’d talk things out until dozing off in a tangle of limbs, comforted by each other’s presence.

But Jake’s not Marc. He brushes off the subtle tightening of his chest as just a lingering remnant from his alters. The body knows you, even if Jake doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

You whine, a sleepy and pitiful but inviting noise from the back of your throat as he continues to stand in the living room. Alarm bells go off in his head; he has to placate you before you get up and try to drag him over yourself.

“Just need to change,” he says, soft and low, warmth injected into every word. Nausea courses through him, to his own confusion, as he continues to play Marc. This should be easier—he’s been hiding for as long as he can remember. This is probably the tamest thing he’s done to keep his cover. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

He takes two steps towards the kitchen then stops, feigning—feigning something, fuck if he knows—waiting for your breathing to level out again. Silence falls over the flat, but Jake’s mouth runs dry.

There’s no way you don’t bring this up to them in the morning, and there’s no way they won’t immediately suspect another alter. They know he exists, have seen the aftermath of when he fronts. It’s only his secrecy that has kept them off his back for this long, and it will all come crashing down in a few hours.

For better or for worse, he’ll have to meet the others soon.

Marc will never tire of waking up beside you. Even though there’s a heaviness weighing him down, body aching for just a few more minutes, he pushes through because you’re already awake. With one hand on his chest, the other tracing over his jaw—the small, lazy smile on your face has already made his day.

You turned over while he was asleep, but his arm is still slung over your waist; he pulls you closer to press a kiss onto your forehead. Lips moving against your skin, “Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” you murmur. “Feel better?”

Mind hazy from sleep, Marc doesn’t question the odd wording. He just let’s himself settle into the lingering fatigue, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter shut again. “M’tired. Stay with me a little longer?”

Concern laces your tone. “Was the dream that bad?”

That breaks through to him. He peers at you curiously, more alert than before. “What do you mean?”

You blink, confused. “Your nightmare last night. You left to take a walk?”

Marc sits up, furrowing his brow. Reality seeps in, and he checks the date on his phone. Aren’t you supposed to be—? “I thought you were staying over at a friend’s place.”

“I was going to, but she had a family emergency—I came back here around three. Don’t worry, they walked me home,” you explain with a soft pat of your hand at the end. That—that is one mystery solved, and he is glad to hear that you weren’t walking alone at night, but his shoulders remain taut with tension. His mind gets caught on a detail.

“Three?” He’s a light sleeper, he would’ve woken up when you came into bed. But—your words replay in his mind. He wasn’t here when that happened, was he? “I went on a walk?”

His stress begins to spill over to you, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, fiddling at the blankets. “Um, yeah. We spoke a little when you came back—I was already in bed, remember?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, and the words die in this throat. Marc does not, in fact, remember. He apparently went outside in the middle of the night, long enough for you to come home and settle in without him, then had a whole conversation upon return—and none of it is familiar to him. Not even a hint of déjà vu.

He throws off the covers, on his feet in seconds despite your protests. All hisblackouts, the ones he thought were finished after traversing the Duat—

That third sarcophagus—

Is this what it was like for Steven? To wake up, not knowing what your body has done, where it’s been—if it’s hurt someone?

Marc might actually puke if he thinks about it for too long. And God, you live with them now: him, Steven, and what Marc wishes was a complete unknown. But the truth is—they aren’t an unknown. No, Marc is fully aware of what this alter is capable of.

“Oh, bugger, what’s going on?” Steven must feel his panic, reflects it in kind. He must be expecting bloodshed with how fast their heart is racing.

Marc says nothing and flings open the tri-mirror on the wall, bracing himself with both hands on the sink below. He sees himself in the center, a bull primed to fight. Steven’s to the left, so fearful he’s nearly frozen still. And to the right—

To the right—

So. Jake hasn’t really prepared for this situation, to be honest.

He’ll face anything head-on to keep the body safe, but imagining himself as the threat? Never crossed his mind. There’s anger in their blood, and Marc’s liable to cracking the porcelain with his grip. If looks could kill, Jake would be dead ten times over.

The few times he wondered what it would be like to actually meet Marc and Steven, the worst that could happen was that they disliked him. Unfortunate, but he’d live. He didn’t need their approval to do his job.

But through the blood rushing in their ears, he can hear you; still in bed, barely breathing as you watch everything unfold. And that’s when he remembers—

You are the bane of his existence.

Because Marc and Steven aren’t just thinking about their own self-preservation. No, now they have you to protect, and the lengths that they would go to do that, well—Jake begrudgingly has to admit that they might rival some of his own efforts for them.

He’d let them stare at themselves forever in the mirror if it weren’t for that fact. They would never give up on trying to talk to him. Steven was clever enough with the sand and tape and ankle restraint; he doesn’t want to think about what sort of traps they’d create with Marc in the mix. Jake would probably still evade them all, but they’d drive themselves crazy in their attempts.

They’ve really left him no choice. For the first time, he lets himself be seen.

You’ve watched Marc and Steven talk to each other plenty of times. It’s really no big deal. They’re just normal conversations where you can only hear one side, and usually taken through the nearest reflective surface.

But this? This is an interrogation. Marc slackens his jaw for just a moment before everything in him tenses again. He speaks through clenched teeth, as if barely controlling the severity of his thoughts—you can’t help but brace yourself for impact. “Who are you?”

The pause as he waits for the other alter, whoever they are, to respond is maddening. It wasn’t quite fear that gripped you when you realized that it wasn’t Marc last night—to be honest, you don’t know what to feel—but the scene in front of you has you reevaluating your initial reaction.

That initial reaction being, well—the same thing you felt when you Marc told you about Steven: curiosity. You wanted to meet Steven. Almost begged for the chance near the end. Whoever this is—

“Jake.”

The name grates itself out of Marc’s throat, and you cling to the information like a life raft.

“Jake.” You can’t help but test it out on your tongue, squinting a little as you look at your boyfriend and try to see yourself calling him that. Marc looks towards you. There’s a storm of emotions in his eyes, but there’s no time to decipher any of them—a moment later, he turns back towards the mirror with a scowl.

“Why should I believe you?” The lines on his face deepen; Marc grits his teeth so hard you yearn to hold him, but you’re frozen to the spot.

“I don’t know that. After you—” his eyes dart between you and his reflection so fast, you might’ve imagined it “—after what you’ve done?”

A wave of dread washes over you.

He’s not talking about last night.

No, Marc—Marc has interacted with Jake before, and whatever happened must’ve crossed a line. Must’ve crossed several lines because of how he’s acting right now, and you want to bury yourself under the covers, still fisted tightly in your hands.

He laughs bitterly. The sound rakes through your ears. “You call that protecting us?”

Your blood runs cold. With no real context and spiked with adrenaline, your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, connects all the worst dots.

There’s no way—

“Lay a hand on her and I swear—”

You want to run and you want to hide and you want their arms around you, assuring you of—of anything. You need to leave this building and also never go outside again, because your head begins to pound with each thought that passes through.

You can still see the worry flare in Marc’s eyes when you accidentally grabbed the handle of a hot pan, the dutiful and tender way he held your hand under the tap for no less than fifteen minutes—

You can still hear Steven’s babbling when your new shoes rubbed your ankles red and raw while on a walk, distracting you from the pain the best he could until you got back home—

You are just so acutely aware of their love—that Marc and Steven would never dare hurt you. It’s impossible to reconcile your memories of them with the picture that’s being painted of Jake right now.

No. You can’t believe it.

You’re not even hearing their conversation anymore, your heartbeat is too loud. Breathing returns to you in a rush—you never even realized you stopped—and your vision swims with light-headedness.

None of it makes sense.

It—it can’t—

The mattress dips beside you, but you barely feel it. Someone’s cupping your cheeks, grounding you back into the flat, your home, and you know these hands. You know this voice, soothing in your ear, even as you shut your eyes.

They say that they’re sorry. They say that you’ll be okay.

They call you princesa.

It feels strange walking around the flat, knowing that he’s welcome there now.

Jake’s seen every nook and cranny through Marc and Steven, but to actually be able to explore the place himself—he’s like a kid in a toy store. He can’t help but run his fingers over everything. The spines on the bookshelves, the mismatched dishware in the cabinets. That velvet throw pillow, which you are so fond of playing with during movies—yeah, he gets it.

He’s not going to be talking to you for a while, though. After his rocky first meeting with Marc and Steven, which also coincides with the absolute worst possible first meeting with you—

It’s best to steer clear for a while.

Jake let the other two do the explaining. He watched silently as Marc told you about his past—told you about why he was discharged from the Marines and the scenes he’d wake up to after Jake had fronted—hands shaking as they held onto yours. He watched as Steven took over when it got to be too much, adding in the finer details and clarifications, steadier but no less genuine than Marc. Their arms were gentle as Steven held you in their lap, patient as you stumbled through how you felt.

“Marc seemed so mad at Jake.” You clutched at Steven’s shirt, sniffling into his neck. “I didn’t know what was happening, I—I was scared.”

No. Jake furiously shakes his head as if it would jostle the memory out of his brain. Just thinking about it threatens to unravel him, and he has to keep it together. He’s on thin ice as is.

You had been the one to temper their emotions—the sight of you panicking on their bed grinding all other issues to a halt. The conversation couldn’t continue until you were okay, and this time, Steven kept you in the loop.

Steven is wary. Steven needles him about what he’s been doing all this time, asks him what he’s going to do now with short little mhms. Steven is also the one to buy a new set of pens (because black is already used for non-individual specific events) and designates him as orange.

Marc doesn’t trust Jake at all and admits it outright. It’s—it stings more than he thought it would, but he understands. He always knew that Marc would take a while to come around, especially with you to consider—

Jake doesn’t know why he worries so much about your opinion. Protecting you is an extension of protecting the body, but he never used to care about what Marc or Steven had to say. He hates the caution in your voice when you talk about him and can’t help but appreciate you trying anyways.

He pinches himself. You’re not his to think about, period.

Acknowledging his existence also, sort of, comes with accepting it. Steven somehow finds the space for another dresser in their already cramped bedroom. Jake doesn’t even have enough possessions in general to fill that thing—not counting all the weapons and ammo that Marc would definitely have their head for if he brought them into the flat.

It’s an olive branch on both sides, though. They’re committing to having him around. He’s committing to being around, instead of lurking in the background of their lives.

His clothes only fill up the first drawer but—it’s nice. Jake stares at the thing a lot more than a used, scratched-up piece of furniture probably warrants. He can barely admit it to himself but this, all of it—going outside during the day, eating a freshly-cooked meal, even just relaxing in bed without immediately trying to go to sleep in order to Protect the Body—it really is just nice.

(Since when did he describe anything as nice?)

Then—your keys turn in the door.

Jake hits the eject button so fast, Steven’s probably going to get whiplash.

“Nice reflexes,” he grumbles as you enter the flat. It was funny the first few dozen times. Now? That twat’s just being a coward.

“I’m home!” You call out as Steven rounds the corner to greet you, tote bag nearly bulging in your hand. He pecks your lips as he helps you out of your jacket, then hangs it up beside the three others on the rack. “There was a little creators’ market in the park—you should’ve seen it!”

“Think I’m seeing it now,” he chuckles, moving to help you with your tote. You slink past him at the last second, grinning. “Come on, love, show us what you got!”

“They’re gifts! Just hang on.” You place the bag on the dining table and enraptured, he pulls up a stool. His head rests on his chin as he waits for you to unpack. “Okay, first, for Marc—”

You reach your hand inside and reveal a pair of black leather gloves. Not driving gloves like Jake’s—there’re far less embellishments all around. But they’re warm and flexible, perfect for colder weather. Inside, the lining is made with a material so soft that when trying one on, Steven can’t help but laugh a little in disbelief.

“Treading on my territory, pendejo?”

Marc snipes back, “Like you own a monopoly on leather gloves.”

Steven lets Marc pull to the front. An easy smile spreads on his face as he flexes his hand, testing his movement. “Thanks, baby. I really like them.”

He takes your chin into his gloved hand to thank you properly, slotting his lips against yours with no shortage of appreciation. His grip is an anchor, holding you in place as he kisses you, deep and languid. Like you have all the time in the world despite the heat flickering across his skin. When Marc gets like this, it’s not long before you start squirming under him, and your hands paw at his neck for something more.

That’s his cue to finally pull away, smirking as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Whether it’s the leather or him or both, he can see the effect on you, the dazed look you give him when you bat your eyes open.

Let Jake try and beat that.

“Oi! Share!”

Marc sighs. Drops his forehead to yours and reluctantly doesn’t continue any further. “Steven wants his gift now.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in. “Maybe I should’ve done Steven’s first.”

Marc steals one more kiss before retreating again, and Steven is back, clearly eager for many different reasons now. After putting Marc’s new gloves to the side, you don’t make him wait a second longer; you pull out a stunning new button-up, deep navy with a pattern of large teal palm leaves and hints of salmon accents all over.

All traces of joy disappear from Marc’s voice. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“She’s an enabler. I can’t believe it.”

Steven gapes, amazed. “How did you—”

“I had to go digging,” you admit, gesturing widely. “There were so many racks, we need to go back! I only had my one bag!”

“There’s no way people actually buy this stuff.”

“Ahh, well, it’s not that bad—"

“Are you kidding me?”

Ignoring the fashion police in his head, Steven immediately switches shirts and tosses the old one somewhere behind him. Based on Marc’s grunt, he missed the couch, but also can hardly find himself to care.

He doesn’t even bother doing up the buttons, because he knows where you’ll put your hands when he descends upon your face. Kiss after kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and nose, and soon enough you’re giggling loudly into the air. Your hands are warm against his bare torso, pulling him closer even as their stubble tickles your skin.

“Stevie—Steven! There’s one more!”

He’s not letting you off that easily, though, and finally captures your lips with his. That does buy him a few more blissful seconds until you manage to push him away; breathing heavily, you point sternly in his direction—behave.

Steven schools his expression into one of perfect obedience, teasing, but you barely even react. With one glance back down at the table, it’s like the tote bag sucked away your excitement, leaving shy uncertainty in its wake. You’re biting your lip as you reach for the last gift, quiet.

Marc hums, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Steven offers you an encouraging little smile and is about to say something when you produce the last gift in a rush, still not meeting their eyes.

It’s a simple wool scarf, colour-blocked in soft browns and greys. He waits as you fiddle with it in your hands, trying to find the words.

“He doesn’t have a scarf,” you blurt out. When Steven doesn’t respond immediately, you continue. “Jake, I mean—I don’t think he has one. I thought it would be nice.”

He follows your gaze to the coat rack near the door, filled with four sets of outerwear. It clearly doesn’t fit all the jackets owned in the household, but his favourite is hung up next to Marc’s, which is hung up beside your overcoat and Jake’s collared jacket. Various cold weather accessories are layered onto the hooks as well, multiple pairs of gloves, hats—but there are only three scarves.

Come to think of it, Steven hasn’t seen Jake ever wear a scarf either. “You’re right, love. Doesn’t his neck get cold? I know our neck gets cold.”

The corners of your mouth tug up a little and he grins, triumphant. He tunes into his head, making sure he doesn’t miss any of Jake’s reaction, but nothing comes. That’s odd. It doesn’t feel like he’s gone, more like—holding his breath.

“Think he’ll like it?” You tilt your head, though your true question is clear on your face.

The words can’t come out of Jake fast enough. “I’m not here right now.”

“Jesus, man.”

Steven huffs but covers for his alter; they’ll press him about it another time. “Once he sees it, I don’t think he’ll ever take it off.”

The gloves and scarf are added to the coat rack, which is liable to falling over one of these days due to the heavy load it’s carrying. With no shortage of complaining from Marc, Steven picks up his discarded shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket. It’s almost full—he makes a note to do a load later this week.

He must look ridiculous, parading around in an undone button-up, but you have nothing but fondness for him when he returns to cuddle with you on the couch. You’ve changed into Marc’s sweater and have to move no less than five decorative pillows in order to make enough space.

Marc makes a distressed noise when Steven throws one of them to the side. “It’s fine—”

It hits the standing lamp and you both freeze as you watch it teeter on its base, creaking ominously. After a moment, it steadies again.

“It’s only fine because of your weak throw.”

Steven splutters as he pulls you into his side. “We have the same arm!”

They bicker about the mechanics of their body, whether muscle memory crosses over when they switch or not. Marc is squarely of the opinion: No. Steven reminds him of when he punched the Jackal, and the conversation continues to devolve. Jake refrains from getting involved but spurs them on regardless with a well-placed snicker here and there.

It’s an aimless argument that has you burying your face in your hands because you’re laughing too hard; one of many that have taken place and one of many that have yet to occur.

In the morning, Marc will cook you breakfast and throw an eggshell into the bin from across the kitchen just to prove a point. Steven will go back to the market with you to buy armfuls of his favourite clothing and home goods, and he’ll add one more to his bag for every snide comment Marc makes. And Jake—

Jake will take a little while longer until he feels ready to speak to you, but you see the scarf gather raindrops and the warm, woodsy smell of their aftershave as he wears it every time he goes outside. Always see it hung up neatly on the rack, on top of his jacket so it can properly dry.

And with all four of you settled in, their cluttered little flat in London—long overflowing with books and clothes, your favourite comforts and some truly unique furniture—finally started to feel complete.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

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steddiealltheway · 11 months ago

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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays :) This is way longer than I thought it would be, but it's been a while since I've written, so I think I needed it. I hope you all have a wonderful end to your year <3

Steve thought it was fate when he reached into Dustin’s old Santa hat and picked up a crumpled piece of paper with Eddie’s name scribbled on it. He had a gift stored away for Eddie that he bought weeks ago, and he was hoping there would be some way to get it to him without making it a big deal or something. Miraculously, the tiny slip of paper gave him that chance.

Now, two weeks later, Steve feels like his nerves are on fire as everyone gathers around in his living room, waiting to receive their gifts.

He goes off to the guest bedroom where the party had dropped off their gifts under the bed with the promise of not peaking - per Steve's request. Mike complained that the system was a little bit much, and Steve couldn’t argue with him. He just didn’t want to give away that he was Eddie’s secret Santa.

And now that he has pulled all the gifts out from under the bed, his stomach churns and his heart races. He just hopes his gift doesn’t cross a line or bring up unwanted memories, especially since he and Eddie aren’t exactly best friends.

Well, okay, they’re close. Considering the number of times Dustin has insisted they all hang out now that they’ve all been trauma-bonded, Steve has spent a lot of time with Eddie. But he hasn’t gotten a lot of alone time with him.

Sure, there have been a few times when Eddie has stopped by work, but Robin was always close by - not that Steve minded at all, except he got tired of the looks she would give him after Eddie left as if she was expecting Steve to say something. He doesn’t know what exactly he would say, but he will admit that it was always sad watching Eddie go. Maybe he should tell Robin he wishes he could stay a little longer, maybe even after hours.

The thought reminds him of the one moment they spent alone that Steve can't help but recall often. Even his present to Eddie is based around that moment which resulted in him purchasing something definitely higher than the price limit, but none of the kids would know that so it’s fine.

There’s a light knock on the door behind him, and Steve turns around. “Hey,” Eddie says with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

Steve smiles back, willing his heartbeat to slow down a bit. “Yeah, just trying to figure out how to get them all at once.”

“Let me help,” Eddie says, already bending over to grab half the stack that Steve had pushed out from under the bed. “You don’t happen to have a Santa suit do you?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “No?”

“Damn. Next year, okay? And I want to be Santa.”

The corner of Steve’s lip quirks up and Eddie's eyes light up, looking awfully proud of himself. The two hold the gaze for a few moments longer than they should, but it’s not like that's new to them.

“Guys! What’s the holdup?!” Dustin yells.

Steve sighs and offers Eddie a now irritated smile before leading the way to the living room, glancing down at the names on each present before handing them out. He and Eddie finish around the same time, and Steve notices there are two clear spots for them in the small circle on either side of Dustin. He almost makes a snarky comment to Dustin, but he holds his tongue, knowing Max and El will shoot them irritated glares if they start bickering.

"El, why don't you go first?" Steve suggests as he sits down, not giving the rest of the kids a chance to argue about it. After all, no one is going to protest after all that El did for them.

El smiles and carefully opens her gift, but Steve spaces out a bit, lost in thought about his gift and questioning if it will be an appropriate thing to bring up in front of the kids. Eddie had shared the moment only with Steve and even hesitated in doing so, so maybe he doesn't want it to be broadcast to the kids. Shit.

Steve snaps back to reality when El knee-scoots over to Dustin, pulling him into a tight hug and thanking him for her present. Dustin flushes an interesting shade of red that Steve is definitely going to bring up later when he himself isn't panicking. For now, he moves the game along. "Alright, Dustin gets to open his gift now since he was the Secret Santa," Steve announces, nervously glancing at Eddie, hoping the excited look doesn't mean the gift is from him. He's not sure if he's ready for Eddie to open his gift yet.

Luckily, the gift is from Lucas, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. But as the game continues and more people unwrap their gifts, Steve finds himself getting a bit impatient as he waits for someone to get their gift from Eddie. It's only when Max is last to open her gift that Steve realizes that he and Eddie are the only two remaining which means...

"No way," Eddie says with a big grin. "We're the only two who got each other."

Steve slowly looks down at the gift in his hand, neatly wrapped with a beautifully done bow that seems so unlike Eddie who always seems to be in a rush, doing everything with an almost frantic energy that Steve kind of adores. He wonders what he must've been like sitting still, carefully folding each curve of newspaper and taping it all together before neatly tying the red ribbon around the box into a beautiful bow. "You did this?" Steve can't help but ask, hoping he didn't just stick his foot in his mouth.

"Yeah," Eddie says somewhat bashfully as he pulls his hair in front of his face. "You do the honors." Eddie gestures to Steve's present and nervously rambles, "It isn't much really..."

Steve carefully undoes each fold, seeing the care Eddie took in wrapping a small box that Steve pulls the lid off of. He stares down at a small metal-looking thing and picks it up off the paper it's on top of. He presses it and startles a bit as it buzzes.

"A hand buzzer," Dustin laughs in disbelief.

"Maybe you two need to hang out more," El suggests innocently.

Eddie clears his throat. "There's a note in there, too, but you don't have to read it out loud in front of the kids or anything."

Steve keeps ahold of the little buzzer and picks up the note, staring at a few numbers in confusion before following an arrow that elaborates 24/7 Walkie Channel - especially at night. Steve flushes a bit red at the joke, but as he reads further, he realizes it's not a joke at all. In fact, he knows exactly what this is referring to.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie walks up to the counter of Family Video and raps his knuckles on the counter. "Now tell me, what exactly is behind that restricted section with the red curtains?"

Steve rubs his temples and gives Eddie an unimpressed look. "You know exactly what's behind there."

"Well, maybe I want to hear it from my favorite employee. After all, you're supposed to help me with all my needs."

"Alright," Robin announces loudly, "I'm taking my break."

Steve hears the break room door shut behind him, and he drops his head in his hands with a slight groan.

"That embarrassed, Harrington? I thought you were like the expert here. Especially since Robin isn't allowed back there, but..." Eddie trails off but suddenly his voice gets much closer yet softer. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes I push too far without realizing and-"

Steve cuts him off with a short wave of his hand. "It's not that. You're fine really. Just didn't really sleep last night."

"Company or..." Eddie goes for a joke to lighten the second half of what he's implying.

Steve sighs and glances up at him. "It the 'or' option."

Eddie gives him a sympathetic look and glances around at the empty store before leaning on the counter, right into Steve's space, but it's comforting rather than intrusive. Eddie softly says, "I get it, man. The night terrors are... they're intense. I still see Chrissy when she..." He looks away, swallows hard, and takes a deep breath. "I get it."

Steve glances up and sees a matching haunted look in Eddie's eyes that Steve catches in the mirror from time to time. "It's harder late at night. I get this urge to reach out to everyone and make sure they're okay and..." Steve sighs and lowers his voice, "still alive." He shudders slightly and laughs humorlessly, "But it's not like I can just call everyone's house at night and wake up them and their family. I usually just wait for the urge to pass but it's harder for me with some people." Steve swallows hard, knowing what Eddie will ask next.

"Like who?"

Steve glances up at Eddie and says, "Robin of course because she's my best friend. Max is tough too because of how close she was to dying and you just never know if that thing will come back or not."

"He's gone for good this time. You know what Owens said," Eddie presses gently.

"Yeah, but I've heard it before," Steve argues. But he can't deny that things definitely feel more final now. Like maybe they're finally over. Still, he can't just let his guard down on the off chance that his gut isn't right for once.

Eddie shifts and nudges Steve's elbow with his own. "Anyone else though?"

Steve holds Eddie's gaze for a moment, and he sees the exact moment Eddie knows exactly what he's thinking as the memories of Eddie's lifeless body in Steve's arms flood in his head. "You were... gone there for a little while. And sometimes I wake up, and I think that you didn't make it. That the nightmare I keep having is actually reality."

Eddie gives him a pained look and places his hand over Steve's. "You can call me at any time. Day or night. I'll try my best to answer, especially at night."

"Eddie, I don't want to make you lose sleep any more than you already are."

"But I'm probably already awake. And I don't care if I lose sleep for you, okay?"

Steve glances up at him and flushes a bit as his eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips. For a moment, he thinks he might understand what Robin's looks mean, but he glances away before he can truly think about it. "That's not the only problem though," Steve confesses quietly.

Eddie just squeezes his hand, waiting for him to elaborate.

With a deep breath, Steve hooks his thumb on top of Eddie's pinky and squeezes back for some support. "I hate speaking in that empty house. My voice seems to echo, and it makes me feel more alone than I already am. And sometimes it feels impossible to speak about things. Like my voice doesn't work or something. I don't know."

"I get it," Eddie says simply, squeezing his hand again. "But really, if you ever need to call or stop by or anything. I'll be there." Steve holds Eddie's gaze, thinking maybe the upcoming night won't be so bad.

Before Steve can really say anything else, the bell on the front door dings loudly and he and Eddie practically jump apart. The customer doesn't even so much as glance at them, but they both still keep their distance, recognizing that the moment is over.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve stares at the little list in the note.

One Buzz: Checking in. I will buzz back so you know I'm okay. Two Buzzes: If you need to hear my voice. I will respond over the walkie and talk for as long as you like. Buzz multiple times, and I'll stop. And trust me, I will talk your ear off, so I won't get offended when you buzz. Three Buzzes: If you need me to call ever. Don't be afraid to use this one. Wayne is still working night shifts, so you're really no bother if you want to call first. But this way, I can be the one calling you so you don't have to worry about waking me up or anything. Really. The buzzes aren't too loud, so they shouldn't wake me up. Let me know if you want to add anything to this list. I have an identical list with my hand buzzer at home that I would be happy to add to at any time. Merry Christmas Love, Your Secret Santa

Steve stares at the note in his hand almost too stunned to speak. He doesn't think he's ever received a more thoughtful gift in his life. He pinches at his nose and tries to shut his emotions down a bit, and Eddie must catch on because he loudly announces, "My turn!"

Steve takes a deep breath, forgetting entirely about the gift he got Eddie. He watches as Eddie tears the wrapping paper off the small box then dramatically and very slowly opens it up with a big smile, knowing he has the kids' impatient attention practically in the palm of his hand. But when he finally sees the gift, his smile and whole act drop as a look of realization crosses over his face.

Steve's heart pounds in his chest.

Eddie slowly removes the little glass bottle filled with brown liquid and silently stares at it.

"What is that? Some type of fancy bourbon?" Max asks with a scoff.

Steve watches Eddie's eyes get slightly glassy, and he's quick to announce, "Something like that. But alright, we have to move on before your families start coming to pick you up. Was a snowball fight next on your cheesy list or something?"

Dustin is quick to defend the list the group came up with, but Steve is quicker in pushing them all toward the front door. "I'll be there in a bit. Eddie and I have to clean up."

The kids all rush to put on their coats and shoes, not wanting to be a part of any type of cleanup. Once they run outside, Steve closes the door and rushes back to the living room where Eddie's still staring at the bottle, a single tear going down his face. "You... you remembered... and you... you got... how?"

"Of course, I remembered," Steve says, thinking of what Eddie told him months ago.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve sighs and stuffs more things into a box from Eddie's closet. Dr. Owen's people had finally given the trailer the all-clear, so they were finally able to get the remainder of Eddie's and Wayne's things out of there. Of course, the kids had spent about an hour helping with the living room before taking a very very long break at Max's place. Steve assumes it will be lasting until the rest of the trailer is cleared out.

"They're great help, aren't they?" Eddie jokes as he brings another box into the room.

"Absolutely. Always willing to lend a hand. That is until they decide that the adults can just slave away for them."

"Someone needs to give them a lecture," Eddie sighs, pulling out a pile of clothes from his closet.

Steve scoots the box over and asks, "And why does that person always seem to be me? Especially when they don't listen to me."

"You're just so motherly," Eddie says with a big smile, dimples on full display.

Steve can't help but smile at the sight. And luckily he's staring his way when Eddie picks up another stack of clothes and suddenly hurdles something Steve's way. And even luckier, Steve's reflexes are quick, so he's able to easily catch the smaller glass bottle.

Eddie's eyes widen and he quickly grabs at the bottle, wrapping his hands around Steve's in the process. "Jesus H. Christ." Eddie's grip tightens as he stares at the bottle and breathes a sigh of relief, dropping his head to Steve's shoulder. "Have I ever told you that I'm so glad you're a jock?"

Steve snorts. "No, but whatever in this bottle must be important enough for you to admit it. So, tell me, what's in it? Alcohol? Some type of weird liquid drug?"

Eddie pulls back and looks away, still cradling the bottle and Steve's hands. "It's nothing. Just, hold it gently while I find another shirt to wrap it in."

Steve gently grasps the bottle and brings it closer, inspecting what it could be when he's hit with a bit of deja vu. He tests his suspicions and carefully removes the cap. "Eddie, why do you have an almost empty bottle of perfume in your closet?"

Eddie turns to him and asks, "Please, don't tell me you sprayed it."

"I didn't. The cap just gave it away."

Eddie quickly takes the bottle from his hand and puts the cap back on. "It's nothing. Like I said." He rolls it carefully in a t-shirt and places it in the box.

Steve slowly approaches and looks down at the box, frowning when he sees it start to blend in with the other pile of clothes in there. "I'll be right back," Steve announces before running out to his car. He opens the trunk and sighs, grabbing a shoe box and carefully placing his emergency date shoes in the corner of the trunk before taking the box inside.

When he gets back to the room, he reaches into the bigger box, fishes the shirt-wrapped perfume out, and places it gently into the shoe box before setting it aside. Steve glances up and notices Eddie staring at him. "Is that the emergency date shoe box?"

Steve is going to give the kids or Robin a lecture later about giving away people's personal information. "Yes," he admits.

"So, where are the shoes?"

"In my trunk," Steve says, moving onto Eddie closet to grab the last of the clothes.

Eddie pauses before asking, "You put your emergency date shoes the kids told me to never touch in your trunk to give me a box for my perfume?"

Steve shrugs. "Yeah." He stuffs everything down and closes the box, pushing it toward the door. But he's stopped by Eddie's hand on his arm.

"Why?" Eddie asks.

Steve straightens up and puts his hands on his hips. "It's clearly important to you, and I wasn't going to let you forget about it and accidentally throw it again when I'm not there to catch it."

Eddie holds his gaze for a few moments and Steve almost breaks the eye contact, not used to having Eddie's attention directly solely at him. But he feels like that will change in the future.

Eddie shifts and places a hand on Steve's back, leading him to where he placed the box. He picks it up and opens it, slowly unraveling the perfume and staring at it as if debating if he wants to share the story with Steve.

Steve just waits, not wanting to pressure him. Instead, he lets the moment play out.

Eddie breathes out, "It was my mom's."

It hits Steve all at once the implication of the phrase.

"She would wear it all the time. I remember she would put it on once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before going to bed. I told her it was silly to do that before bed, but she told me it was only silly if I let it be." Eddie smiles at the memory before growing distant in his expression. "When she got sick, she started forgetting the time more and more. So, I would remind her. And toward the end, I started putting it on her when she felt too weak to spray it."

Steve shifts and lightly rests his hand on Eddie's back as he continues, "I told my dad that she should be buried with it. That she would want to have it with her and wear it all the time." Eddie's voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. "He told me that was silly."

Steve shifts closer to Eddie so their sides are pressing together, trying to give him physical support because he's unsure of what to say.

Eddie shakes his head and smiles sadly. "I kept it since then. And I used to spray it all the time, and god, the guys at school would make fun of me for smelling like girl's perfume, but I didn't care. But maybe I should've listened to them because now I only have this much left." He holds up the bottle to emphasize his point, the perfume so low that it seems to barely cover the bottom of the glass.

"One time, I brought it to a perfume store to ask what brand it was. I thought maybe I could save up and buy another one." Eddie shakes his head again. "But the lady accused me of stealing it. She said there was no way I would've been able to afford it in the first place. That there was no reason for me to even have it unless I was looking for a cheap buck to make."

Steve's grip on Eddie's back presses a little firmer as he feels anger and disgust toward the woman overflood his system. "That's fucked up."

"A bit, yeah," Eddie agrees. He glances at Steve, and Steve realizes how close they are, but he doesn't try to move away. "Do you want to smell it?"

Steve's brows furrow. "Eddie, there's barely any left in there, don't waste it on me."

Eddie smiles somewhat bashfully. "No, it's alright. I haven't used it in a long time, and after everything we went through, I need the reminder."

"If you're sure, then yes. I would love that."

Eddie holds out his wrist and lightly sprays the perfume. He uses his other wrist to rub it in before he holds it up to Steve's nose. Steve takes a deep breath and is suddenly taken back to a vague memory from a Christmas years and years ago when Steve was too young to succumb to the disappointment from his parents who were still around. But it's a happy memory nonetheless.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles softly. "I think your mom had great taste. And it smells really beautiful. I wish I could've met her."

"Me too," Eddie replies softly, staring at the bottle.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"My mom had the same one. Years ago it was gifted to her. I ended up finding the bottle in one of the drawers in her bathroom. It was still in the box, so it wasn't too difficult to find at the store," Steve admits. He holds out his hand and says, "Here. I have to show you something."

Eddie carefully places the perfume back in the box and takes Steve's hand, following him up the stairs and into his room. Steve regrettably lets go of Eddie's hand to pull out a box from under his own bed. He holds it up to Eddie who gasps, "Steve, this must have cost you a fortune."

Steve glances down at the five boxes of perfume and shrugs. "There was a Christmas sale. Plus, I was able to use my Harrington charm a bit."

Eddie grabs the box and carefully sets it on Steve's bed before quickly wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "Thank you. God, this is the best gift I've ever gotten."

Steve squeezes him tight. "Same with yours."

They remain in each other's arms for a few moments, not rushing the embrace or questioning how long they're allowed to linger. Only, when Steve starts pulling away, he starts questioning his next move. Because more than anything he wants to kiss Eddie.

The realization hits him hard. He knows exactly now what Robin's glances mean and what she's been expecting him to say. Of course, deep down he knew, but he just hadn't had to face it head-on yet. But here he is and... "Eddie," Steve says softly, lingering in his space.

"Steve," Eddie replies quietly, eyes flickering down to Steve's lips, already knowing what he means.

Steve takes a deep breath, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he asks, "Can I?"

"Hell yes," Eddie replies.

They both move together at the same time, meeting each other in a gentle kiss which they linger in. Steve moves away to breathe and shifts to cup Eddie's face with his hands and bring him in again. He kisses him with all he has, filled with the awe of the thoughtful gift he received, joy of the gift well received, and the overwhelming feeling that this is right.

Steve breaks the kiss with a smile and whispers, "Merry Christmas, Eddie."

"Merry Christmas, Steve," Eddie says breathlessly before kissing him again.

And it really is a merry Christmas.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #merry christmas #steddie christmas

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rueclfer · 3 months ago

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saturdays are for the blondes // fratboy smau part two

a/n: i imagine frat'splug! hawks to be the type of guy who doesn't actually smoke that often bc he's on a baseball scholarship and doesn't wanna risk it so he just hustles hehe *written under the cut*

denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, hawks

"What are you putting on a shirt for?" You mumble, sitting on the edge of the sunken mattress as you watch Keigo dig through the dresser.

"Kinda gross to be walking around this grimy frat house without a shirt on, don't 'cha think? But any other time and occasion, I'll take more than just the shirt off for you." He slightly turns his head and shoots you a suggestive look before turning back towards the dresser.

You press your lips together as your already flushed face heatens, silently thanking the alcohol for masking this blush.

After rummaging around, he pulls out a basic black tee with a skull print in the front. "Cute or nah? Could you see yourself stealing this?"

"Shut up." You drunkenly laugh, crinkling the half empty plastic water bottle in your hands. "Cute enough, but it screams too much of Dabi."

"It is his clothes I'm stealing from, after all." Keigo takes off his baseball cap with the university's seal, and slips the shirt over his head, letting you take in the full view of his arms stretching his torso up as he maneuvers the fitted shirt over his body.

"I forgot what a fucking noodle he is." He lightly stretches out the sleeves for his biceps.

Yup. That's why he's the star player on the baseball team.

It may have been the alcohol sneaking its way into your mind, but nothing had ever looked as good as Keigo did in this moment. Every now and then with his back turned to you, you pulled the collar of his shirt up to your nose and deeply inhaled his scent: a mix of laundry detergent, marijuana, and his citrusy-sandalwood based cologne- a scent you were all too familiar with.

"Alright, dove." He kneels down at eye level with you. "Sober up a little bit more and then I'm gonna take you home, got it?"

You nodded your head. "You're too good to me. Thank you for taking care of me." You sigh.

"Mmhm." He hums, letting himself take a seat next to you, leaning back on the mattress with his hands behind his head. "Favorite customer, remember?"

You pout for a moment, now leaning down with him, elbow propping your upper body up.

"Why is that pretty face of yours making that expression?" He looks over at you with an amused smirk.

"I dunno, just thinking." You mumble. "Hypothetically, is it a conflict of interest if we got together? Mixing pleasure and work or something like that?"

Keigo stops breathing for a moment, watching your face carefully. "Uhh I don't think so." His voice slightly cracks, bringing a faint blush to his cheeks. "I mean, no. Hypothetically, no it's not." He coughs. "Uh, why?"

You scoot yourself closer to Keigo, watching his eyes widen and face deepen into a harsher blush as you reach up to remove his baseball cap.

"Hypothetically, would that be something you're interested in?"

He stares at you for a beat with no response, causing your stomach to twist in anticipation. He'd been a relentless flirt for years, and now that you've presented him with an opportunity to be with you tonight, he wasn't going to take it?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You break the silence.

"I've liked you since we were freshmen." He blurts out, letting his hand come up to cover his mouth from the outburst. "And you're evil for giving me an opening to kiss you right now when you're drunk as shit, because I'm not going to."

"Like me? Not just want to get in my pants?" You cock your head to the side, slightly confused.

"Are you fucking kidding me? In love, actually." He nervously chuckles. "Anyways! Uh, we have to leave."

He jumps out of the bed, grabbing your wrists and hoisting you up, causing you to stumble into him.

"Wait what? In love? You drop that piece of info and you wanna leave?" You whine, holding onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"Well, you're drunk and I don't want either of us to say anything we'll regret. Plus this conversation needs to not happen in Dabi's bed or else he'll gut me." Keigo nervously laughs, placing the hat back on his head.

"Yours or mine? You know what, are your roommates home? Maybe I'll just drop you back at yours and hand you off to them, and then we'll talk more about this when you're sober?" He frantically checks his pockets for his phone and keys, clearly panicking now after the sudden confession. "You know, since you're still drunk and I really like you and don't want to fuck this up and-"

"Keigo." You grab the fabric of his shirt to stop him. "There's a reason why I'm always buying from you at stupid hours of the day. I like your stupid flirting, and I like teasing you back, and spending time with you, alright? Don't ask me to repeat this when I'm sober, but I do really like you and I only ever said no because I thought you were a whore."

"Okay, ouch." He lets out a shaky chuckle. "You're really trying to fucking kill me tonight, aren't you?" He blows out a breath of air, lifting his hat and running his hand through his hair. "Okay. We'll talk on the drive and then I'll drop you off at home then, okay?

"No." You whine "Sleep over. My roommates aren't home to take care of me."

He stops for a second, looking at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes and pouty face. Keigo knew you were his weakness, something he could never say no to and it might ultimately be his downfall- losing profit, almost throwing a game because he saw your face in the stands with his jersey number painted on your face, and risking this persona he spent years mastering.

"I'm taking the couch or the floor, and I'll be expecting a kiss and a debrief date in the morning, got it?"

#fake confident virgin loser hawks saaavvee meeeeeee #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smau #mha hawks #keigo takami #hawksxreader #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #hawks #hawks smau #keigo smau

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yoongihan · 10 months ago

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Congratulations - KSM - OneShot

pairing: seungmin x female reader

genre: smutty fluff, university au,

romantic trope: Best Friend's Brother (inspiration from this reel)

word count: 2200 (at this point, this is the shortest of my stories)

rating: M for smut-adjacent (acts have already been committed and our mc thinks about them quite a bit)

warnings: language (i don't think i've ever written a fic without using 'fuck'), drinking (everyone is of age) but not wasted, penetrative safe sex has occurred, fingering has occurred, kissing, some misunderstand/not communicating, i think seungmin is pretty damn dreamy in this.

a/n: my first fic in the skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics! couple things - the parentheticals are the mc remembering what has happened, parenthetical italics are the actual flashbacks. i really really enjoyed writing this one, so i hope it's remotely as enjoyable to read. thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So…”

He looks a lot different like this. The Seungmin you know usually looks very put together, no hair out of place like even the wind obeys him. He doesn’t iron his clothes or anything, but he does fold each piece really carefully (you and Soomin once watched him spend nearly four minutes on folding a polo shirt, after which you both made fun of him for a good half hour). His skin, like Soomin’s, is flawless 99% of the time, and you think you’ve seen him flush only in anger over the years. And it was never like he is now, skin almost mottled with varying hues of red and pink. His hair is all over the place, the black strands defying gravity.

There’s definitely the beginnings of a bruise on the side of his neck.

He’s a bit of a jock, sure. You’ve watched him play baseball, but you don’t remember him breathing quite as heavily as he is right now. He is normally calm and composed, with a quick rejoinder toward Soomin and you about your most recent catastrophe at school (Science is the bane of your existence, for Soomin it’s history) or adventure in sneaking into a college party. Now you’re all at university, so any sneaking is unnecessary (and really not fun at all).

His dark eyes are bright with something untamed, though the longer you stare at him, the more that wildness, that almost unhingedness seems to fade.

A shame, really.

You both jump at the sound of someone in the living room, stumbling over something. The cursing that follows lets you know that it’s Changbin.

“Seungmin,” he calls through the closed bedroom door. “You’ll have to clean up since it was your party.” Then the footsteps fade out down the hall.

Soomin, you, and Seungmin are all in your third year. You and Soomin room together on campus while Seungmin lives off campus with Felix and Changbin. Soomin is regularly your partner when parties are the evening’s plans, but she was sick tonight.

“Go. Support my stupid brother because, and I’ll kill you if you tell him, getting an article published in The Scientific Journal for Undergraduate Research is a big deal. And I’m proud of him.”

So you do. You eat, drink, be very merry; even congratulate Seungmin with actual sincerity even though you’re sure he knows he’s that smart and probably believes it’s his due.

You may have had a few drinks, but you aren’t drunk by any means. College has definitely upped your tolerance level, so when Seungmin admits to you that he doesn’t think it’s that good of an article and that now his professors want him to be their TA and go to graduate school here and he’s not even sure he likes research that much, you put your hand on his arm, give it a squeeze and tell him that it’ll be okay. He can do anything he wants and you’ll always be impressed with him.

(“You mean that?” he asks and you shrug, recognizing that the alcohol may have lowered your normal inhibitions.

“Of course. It’s annoying actually, how good you are at everything."

He covers your hand that’s still on his arm. “You think I’m good at everything?”

You roll your eyes, a little flustered at his singular attention and the warmth of his skin on yours. “I mean, I can hypothesize,” He smirks at your pedestrian use of scientific terminology. “I certainly don’t know all your skills.”

You both stare at each other, the unintended subtext taking effect.

“You could. If you wanted to.”)

And that’s how you end up where you are currently.

In bed with your best friend’s brother.

“I should….” You finally look away from his still pink face, eyes dropping to that mark on his neck, courtesy of your greedy mouth. “I should go.” You turn, letting the comforter fall since your back is to him now, and grab the first discarded article of clothing you can find on the floor. As you slip it on, you recognize it’s definitely not your shirt. “Oh.”

“You can wear it.” His voice reminds you of woodworking, when you sand and sand a piece of wood until it’s smooth. His words and tone usually are so sharp, but in the quiet of his bedroom, it sounds soft.

You yank it off and grab the black top that is actually yours, trying not to care that you are definitely naked and he can see you (where was that worry an hour ago when he was undressing you in between heated kisses?). You slide off the bed and hunt your underwear, putting those on before answering.

“Pretty sure your sister would recognize if I came home in your clothes.” Your voice is not soft and smooth at all. It’s ragged like broken glass. You can’t claim any innocence in this; you had been in your right mind, and you had wanted it.

You had wanted Seungmin.

(Stumbling into his bedroom, his mouth and hands feel like they’re everywhere. You shove off his shirt, admiring the reveal of skin with both your eyes and hands.)

Zipping up your nice pair of jeans, you glance back over at him. He’s still sitting in his bed, sheets covering his lower half. He’s not beefy or anything, but the baseball he still plays for intramurals keeps him toned.

(He giggles when you trace a finger up his side, grabbing your hand to stop its ascent.

“Ticklish?” you ask the obvious.

“No.” A lie. He drags your hand down to the button and zipper of his jeans. “Just want your hand somewhere else.”

You can’t really argue.)

“I…” he seems at a loss for words. Another first as far as you’re concerned. “You aren’t going to tell her?”

“God no.” You move to his desk and grab your thin cardigan, jerking it on. You can feel his gaze on you. It shouldn’t still affect you, the post-sex regrets should overwhelm any desire.

“But you two tell each other everything.”

“This would…” you trail off, watching him raise up out of bed, pulling on his boxers. You should completely not be eyeing him like this, but despite the prime opportunity you just had, you feel like it wasn’t enough.

“This would what?”

He’s standing a few feet away from you and your brain is telling you to leave, to grab your purse that’s somewhere by the front door, and go back to campus because that’s what you do with a one-night stand. But you can’t move.

He touches your arm as he passes to the other side of his bed, grabbing the t-shirt you discarded. You hone in on his fingers and how lightly they brush your skin.

(“You have to tell me, you know,” he says through shortened breaths. “I can’t read your mind.”

“I thought you were good at everything?” you tease before gasping when his fingers curve just right. He does it again and your gasp is louder.

His smirk is so knowing, you would say something if you could think. “Guess you don’t have to say anything.” His kiss is far more gentle than the onslaught he's wreaking on your libido.)

“This would…I think her brain would explode, honestly. And I would prefer to keep her intact. I can’t break in a new best friend.”

He regards you thoughtfully. This is familiar. This assessing of his. You assumed he always found you wanting, but after what just happened, you aren’t so sure.

“Let me drive you back.”

He’s so hard to read. Except when he’s…

You are never going to banish those visual memories. Deep down, you admit you wouldn’t want to.

“It’s not far.”

He sighs as he puts on his pants and says your name. “I’m not letting you walk back. It’s after two am.”

“Fuck, it is?”

He sits back on the bed, slipping on his socks. “Yeah.”

“I can call a–”

“I’m driving you back.”

You bristle. “Look, just because we fucked doesn’t mean I start listening to you.”

“But you did,” he says easily, walking back to where you stand, now just a foot away. “Didn’t you?”

Sensations; sounds, tastes, scents flood you with just his words. Him asking you to put the condom on, to touch him, to kiss him, to stroke him. Instructing you to roll your hips just like that, to tug his hair, to let him make you feel good.

“Well, who’s actually themselves when fucking?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second or two. “I am.” He heads toward the door. “Come on.”

You don’t want to spend money on an Uber, or walk back in the frigid cold, but you also don’t want to give in to him.

(“Relax, pretty,” he murmurs.

“I am.”

He smiles warmly, eyes dark before he presses a soft kiss to your nose. “Stubborn, but I like that about you.”)

But you do.

Seungmin drives a beat-up Hyundai hybrid that you know almost as well as Soomin’s equally as beat-up truck, or your dented sedan. You slide in after letting out a sigh of relief that no one was up and about to observe your walk of shame. He turns the heat on high, before grabbing something from the back and handing it to you. It’s a hoodie.

“I'm wearing a jacket.”

“To cover your legs. Those jeans aren’t warm.”

“How would you–” Oh right, he’d slid his hands up them to unbutton and unzip. You close your eyes tight when you think about how he’d pulled them down, letting his mouth drag along your bare legs.

Seungmin liked using his teeth. You won’t forget that. Ever.

You set the hoodie on your lap so he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together.

“Seatbelt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” You go to grab it, but he leans over to do it for you, head down to click it in place. He smells like your perfume. It works for him. “I can do it myself.” You wrinkle your nose at the petulance in your voice.

He lifts his eyes to you, not moving back into the driver's seat. He’s so close, that mouth of his inches away. You could kiss him and you want to, but you don’t.

He settles back into his seat and puts the car into reverse. He doesn’t turn on the radio, seeming to be perfectly fine with the silence.

Is he okay with the awkwardness? Probably. He would be, always perfectly comfortable when everyone else is freaking out and wondering what the fuck they were thinking and how do they salvage normalcy after something as monumental as fucking.

But you aren’t going to say anything because sex isn’t that big a deal. Even if it’s with Seungmin, your ‘ride or die’ best friend’s twin brother who you’ve always thought was cute, certainly handsome, stupid smart, and maybe a little wicked.

His smirk is a case-study in attractive villain-smirking.

It’s no more than ten minutes to get on campus and to your dormitory. But the silence feels like the length of a director’s cut of a movie; interminable.

He pulls up to the curb and puts the car into park, before resting his arm on the back of the passenger seat. He doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks for the ride–the ride home.” You stumble over your words because every single thing feels like it has innuendo attached. You try to compose your face before looking over at him, offering the hoodie.

He takes it and tosses it in the back before meeting your gaze.

“You’re welcome.”

You swallow, his current tone too close to his bedroom voice.

“And congrats again. Really.”

“Thank you. Really.”

The repetition feels like mockery, and you glare at him instinctively.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget us when you’re taking the science world by storm…however one even does that–”

His mouth is on yours and you’re pretty sure you squeak at the surprise, before melting into his warmth, the slick heat of his tongue, and how his hand cradles your cheek.

“I wouldn’t forget you,” he murmurs against your lips. Another kiss, this one sweeter before he draws back. “Give me some warning if you tell Soomin, okay?”

“Why would I tell her?”

You see the movement of his throat as he swallows. “You might. Because I’m gonna ask you out in the next 24 hours and it’ll be easier to explain why you say yes if she knows.”

It takes several moments for your brain to process all that information and he’s kissing you again which halts any understanding your brain hoped to find. You don’t realize that your arms are around his neck, fingers in his hair, until he pulls back.

“So…you’re gonna say yes?”

You open your eyes to see that he still looks like Seungmin: a ruffled, flushed Seungmin, his eyes more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen.

“I…”

He starts to let go of you, but your hold on him tightens.

“Maybe make it 48 hours so she can try and wrap her mind around the fact that her bff is into her brother.”

His answering smile is so bright that you kiss him again, and it takes another five minutes before you get out of the car.

~~~

Soomin doesn’t combust like you expect. In fact, she raises her eyebrow and scarily looks as smug as her brother when she says:

“About damn time.”

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

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

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daengtokki · 6 days ago

Text

you know what I like

idol!Kim Seungmin x female reader

wc: 2.5k

rating: explicit (desperate, needy sex and reader endlessly pining)

comments: this is my pathetic attempt at reposting one of my favorite oneshots I've ever written. originally written to force myself out of a bad block.

MASTERLIST

─────── ♡

It’s been months since you've had him to yourself—since you've had him at all. His voice, his taste, the softness of his lips...everything feels brand new again after so long. He matches the eagerness of your kiss while his hands fight your clothes, but it’s hot tonight, and the AC broke, so every piece of fabric sticks. You might pass out in this bed if Seungmin is as eager and horny as he usually is.

“That’s better,” he says as he finally rids you of everything, and you latch onto his neck, “I have been very, very impatient.”

The words in your head almost slip out. “Yeah? Did you miss me, Minnie?” Much tamer, but his eyes jump up at you, back down to the space between your hips, then back to your eyes.

“Yeah…missed you,” his tongue pokes out and licks his bottom lip.

Maybe he did, but you know exactly where his mind is when his palm runs down his side, pulls at his shorts, and his hard, aching cock is finally free. The sigh that comes from his chest is so heavy—every bit of stress inside of him is trying to escape.

You go for his neck again, and he laughs when you suck the spot beneath his ear. Ticklish. You know how to get a good giggle out of him, and you never miss an opportunity. Seungmin can be as rough and serious as he wants to be, but a kiss or a lick in just the right spot always softens him up.

Seungmin squeezes your side as you lift yourself, and grins as you jump, and he can’t hold the rest of his smile back. His teeth part and you watch his tongue poke out between them.

“Okay…okay” You shake a little as you hold yourself there, bracing for another squeeze, but it doesn’t come. He has one thing on his mind.

Seungmin slides a hand between your open thighs, strokes himself with his other, “be a good girl for me.”

“I’m always good for you”

He laughs again, then relaxes and digs his fingers into your hip. The slow stretch as he slides in makes you whine, and the seriousness of his gaze, a different Seungmin from a moment ago, makes you heat up even more. He’s patient as he pushes up, lifts his hips and rolls so gently—he gasps and moan with every movement. You watch the muscles on his stomach flex. The only light coming in reflects the warm shimmer of his skin, and it’s hypnotizing as he moves for you.

Your head falls back and you squeeze your eyes shut, because you have to look away. The look on his face, and his soft moans—the sound of him sliding in and out of you is too much, and already feel like you could come for him if you let yourself.

“You are…my good girl, so wet for me,” he coos and moans, sucks his teeth. Seungmin grips again and brings you down until you’re skin to skin, slides and rolls your hips against the slick mixture of sweat and arousal pouring from you. “How many times you gonna come for me?”

The pressure makes you gasp, and you grab for him to hold yourself up and get some relief. But Seungmin loves watching you take it all, so you gently bring yourself back down and let all of him in—up and down, over and over. You can feel yourself gushing around him; hot and wet, running down your shaking thighs, covering him and squelching so obscenely with each pump.

mmm…minnie

You can’t hold yourself back. The moans, he likes those…he loves it when you’re loud for him. But you have so much brimming inside of you, and it’s not just the cries of your first orgasm.

tell me baby

min...ah fuck…fuck

The bed shakes as you bounce on him.

you feel so good

Seungmin whispers and holds you so tight as you move. When you finally look down at him, his eyes are dark, fluttering open and closed. His mouth hangs open as if he can’t bear to keep any of his moans inside, and he doesn’t, and it sounds like he’s finding the perfect pitch for you as he does it. He touches and rubs your swollen clit in gentle circles, careful not to disturb the perfect rhythm you both created.

min…seungmm ah

You stutter. You can’t get it out around the stars popping up in your vision.

minnie god please I’m gonna come

He bites down on his lip and smiles, keeps his pace, swipes his thumb slowly up and down until you shake and scream for him. It’s too much and you want to fall back and cry from the pleasure. But he doesn’t stop touching you, and when you get your palms flat on the bed, finally, he thrusts his hips up and fills you again. Seungmin comes hard as you squeeze tight around him. But he doesn’t stop.

I cant…no more minnie no not yet

a little more… good girl

He keeps touching, and you keep coming for him. It feels like he slows himself as you reach for his hand, lightens his touch, but you’re gone—you’re floating, and you feel like you can’t come down from your high yet. But he brings you down, eventually. Seungmin grabs you, whispers something under his breath, and pulls you close until he slides out.

You groan, whine his name as you place wet kisses on his sweaty chest. Seungmin is catching his breath, but his hands don’t leave you—they slide up and down your back, slow and rough, almost lovingly.

“Minnie?” You sigh, “Min…I—”

He sushes you and runs his fingertips across your skin, “relax, catch your breath…and then we can go again.” Seungmin is insatiable when he’s here.

You kiss back up his chest and into the dip of his throat, “we go again…and then we can shower, get another drink. Yeah?”

“Ah, you wanna shower? Already worn out, huh?”

The lightness in his voice is obvious, but he likes to poke and tease whenever he gets a chance.

“No, no I’m okay”

“You’re usually good for three or four rounds…or five”

As much as you want to keep kissing him, you roll off and onto your back, and Seungmin grumbles when your weight is suddenly gone.

“I just wanna shower with you, but we don’t have to…” you try not to sound too defeated. He didn’t even say no yet.

“Oh, shower together? We’ve never done that before.”

No, you don’t do much together aside from this. Making a mess of your bed, drinking too much, having breakfast before he leaves…if you’re lucky. You keep wondering if he ever lays in bed needing a little bit more. Wanting him to match your feelings doesn’t seem like it should be so unattainable, until he’s next to you, humming sweetly and running a lazy finger over some delicate part of your body. He seems satisfied, and when he leaves in the morning, you’ll be empty again.

“No, we haven’t”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

The cold water continues to beat down on his face and his chest, and you watch him closely from your spot, towel wrapped tightly around you. You got a little too cold, but he’s enjoying himself and he’s not coming out. Fresh sweat is already starting to form and run down your chest when he finally turns the water off, but he stands there for a few moments and drips.

“I feel much better”

He walks out towel-less and runs his hands through his dark, wet hair, and most of it stays slicked back so you can see his eyes. You can’t decide what part of him to watch; his hair dripping onto his broad shoulders, the beads of water rolling down his chest and stomach, or his soft cock swaying between his thighs, taunting you. Your eyes venture up and down, very obviously.

“You look as if you can’t touch”

“I like looking at you”

You catch a smile before he throws a towel over his head. “Cute.”

“I do…you’re more than just a good fuck”

“You getting all romantic on me?”

He’s poking fun again, but you still feel your stomach drop. Seungmin doesn’t want to take things seriously if he doesn’t have to, because he already has plenty of serious in his life.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

Your fingertips slide easily over his chest, down past his belly button, and just above where his towel still rests. Seungmin is already damp with sweat when you finally get him back to bed, and the salty taste of his skin on your lips is stronger than any alcohol you’ve had tonight. He laughs under his breath when you keep going back for more, kissing softly, dragging your tongue and teeth across him.

Seungmin squirms a little against the fresh sheets. “Mm, that tickles”

“I’m gonna find every last ticklish spot on you tonight”

“That sounds mean, not romantic”

“Which do you prefer? Mean…or romantic?” Your heart races when you look up, but it takes a few seconds before he feels your eyes on him. No answer…but you can feel his breathing change.

“Start up here." His fingers drag across the curve of his neck, and you kiss your way back up until you can feel his pulse beneath your lips. A bite gets a laugh out of him, and he squirms again.

“That’s a good start,” you whisper in his ear, and the feeling brings his shoulders up as he shivers. “Two spots there.”

Seungmin pulls you against him and holds tight, “mean.”

“I don’t wanna be mean,” you wiggle free and work your way down, moving your kisses across his chest—lift his arm and kiss his soft inner bicep. Seungmin just sighs contentedly as you work your way down his side.

The room is so quiet. It’s just his steady breaths and the sound of your lips releasing from him, and the occasional giggle when you find a good spot. When his palm spreads over you, you jump. Seungmin is running his hand across your back again, just like before.

“Okay, romantic…”

He groans when you pull at the towel and reach his hip, then his thigh.

“Mean again”

Your lips graze over his growing cock and kiss the other thigh.

“Very mean”

“You like it,” you laugh and peak up at him, “you love being teased.”

“You would know”

Another groan as you grip his cock, run your tongue up his length, and close your mouth around his head. He stares intensely, and you stare right back as you suck and lick the pre-cum leaking from him.

“You know what I like”

Seungmin whines when you let go and kiss again, but it turns into a laugh, because he does like being teased.

“Are you having fun down there?” His voice shakes a little.

You are. He groans out in pleasure when you squeeze his calf muscle as hard as you can, and you keep doing it with both hands. Seungmin arches his back, runs fingers running through his hair, and you think you see a little smile—but when you kiss the top of his knee, his body relaxes, and his legs slowly fall back onto the bed. His sigh is a little dramatic.

“What’s wrong?” You stop, lift yourself, look up at him. You can feel something in that sigh. “Seungmin?”

“Nothing…uh,” he puffs his cheeks and pulls himself further up the bed, so now…you feel a little abandoned in your spot. You reach for your shirt at the bottom of the bed and think about putting it on, but decide to just get up and get a fresh one. His eyes follow as you dig for something comfortable, and as soon as the shirt is pulled over your head… “come back.”

“I need a drink”

The bed creaks as he jumps to his feet and follows you, which you weren’t expecting, but he probably needs a drink, too—you’re not preparing for some big revelation in the kitchen, and you can act distant, too, just like him...you just don’t want to. Seungmin only bothers to throw his briefs on, and you catch a quick glance of his dick getting softer and softer as you pull out a bottle of water for you, and one for him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, stupidly. But not really—it just sounds stupid to you right at this moment. Seungmin might have a vague idea of what’s going on in your head, but you’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it before tonight.

“You moved away from me, I should be asking you that...so…what’s wrong?” It takes all of your energy to sound casual. Inside, you feel like screaming.

His eyes grow, and they look around the room like he needs to find a quick exit, but he just folds his arms over his chest, scrunches up his face, and sighs again. “It just got, I don’t know…I don’t know how to say it without sounding like an ass.”

“Just say it,” you turn your back to him, though, because you can’t look at his pretty face. Seungmin is intense, whether he means to be or not, and his eyes burn right through you.

“I can’t”

“Did you really miss me?” The cold water hitting your stomach makes you feel sick. The question does, too, because now you have to hear his answer. “Don’t answer that.”

“Fuck”

He turns and walks toward the bedroom, but changes his mind immediately and stops, turns, huffs. “Fuck,” this time a little softer, and with a little more confusion behind it. “I’m so stupid.”

There is no sound of him stomping away again—he’s just standing there, and you’re stuck in your spot. “You’re not stupid, you just don’t, uhm…” the tightness in your throat makes your voice crack, but you manage to hold everything back.

“Don’t what?”

“You don’t know how you make me feel”

Seungmin is thinking very loudly, but he’s quiet for a few more beats, until… “how I make you feel?” The emphasis on his you is the loudest he’s said anything all night. Now you finally turn to look at him, and he’s still standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, but his face has softened and his eyes look even more dark and wet than usual. He looks like a kicked puppy. He takes a cautious step forward, “yeah, I really missed you. I wanted to call you a few nights ago to tell you, but I never had enough time alone.”

“You never call me”

He turns and heads for the bedroom before you even finish. When you get there he’s on the far side of the bed, feet on the floor, back flat on the mattress, arms splayed out above his head.

“Min?”

“Yeah?”

You walk in quietly, sit gently, just close enough to reach out and touch his fingers. His curl around yours as soon as he feels your touch. But neither of you say a word—not for several minutes, and you watch his eyes close…his breathing steadies in a way that makes him look like he’s asleep.

“I’m sorry if I was being too much,” you finally break the silence, because you can’t take it anymore. “It’s hard not to be sometimes.”

A smile tugs at Seungmin’s lips.

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rkvriki · 1 year ago

Text

PAIRING ! rich jock!jake x mechanic!reader

SYNOPSIS ! Always having had this passion for cars and fixing them, you found the perfect summer job as a mechanic! Working in a mechanic shop where everyone that worked there was friends with each other was perfect until the friend that didn't work there showed up to get his car fixed.

WARNINGS ! i don't understand a single thing abiut cars or how to fix them it was all googled; jake has daddy-ish? issues; horrendously written angst; reader and jake get pretty heart broken but i cant write angst so its awful; reader thinks jake cheated yikes; curse words; drinking alcohol; reader and jake both have anxiety; reader talks about her past and not having many friends; slighlty suggestive talk but minor friendly! i think it's all, warn me if otherwise!!

word count : 18.9k lol PLEASE READ! so i want to warn everyone that reads this that this story is not my best. I wrote this during a huge writers block and I've never written something as long as this. I know there are flaws and things that could be better, so I'm all open to tips and advice on how to be better at this kind of stories. I would love to write more of this lenght fics even if my blog was not created for that but its a path i would like for it to take. I really apologize if this story doesn't reach your expectations, but I'm only starting so please be nice patient with me. i hope you enjoy this at least a little bit !

Summer jobs were a student’s worst enemy. The desperation of wanting money to go on a trip with friends led anyone to get the first job they could get their hands on. That’s how you end up at your friend's boyfriend's mechanic shop. Sohee told you about his shop when she found out you were looking for summer jobs to get money for your long-planned trip and knew her boyfriend was looking for employees. Everyone who knew you well enough knew you had a special love for cars and were good at fixing some car-related problems. Ever since you were a little child you were always running behind your father when he did some fixing around his car and as you grew up you learned a few things, enough to have friends call you occasionally to fix their cars. You were a little hesitant to accept this job, you had never fixed any big thing in a car and this job looked like it required more knowledge than you had, still after considering how much you needed the money you accepted your friend’s offer.

Sohee explained that only a few people were working around and they were all her boyfriend’s, Heeseung, friends. Heeseung, who ran the shop, does any kind of job around and fixes business and partnership offers, Jungwon worked during the weekends in class months and worked full time during summer break and usually worked in simple things like changing tires and cleaning the cars, Sunghoon who polishes the cars along with Sunoo who also paints and wraps them, Jay worked with changing heavy car pieces and finally, Ni-ki who was friends with all of them and the youngest amongst them all, was also doing this as a summer job and he was in charge of painting costume designs in cars. The 6 of them formed a friend circle along with another one, Jake – who didn’t seem to be working here since he most likely didn’t need to, seeing that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has always been more privileged than the rest of them in Sohee’s words.

Putting on your jacket and grabbing your keys you made your way out. The weather was hot and you were already regretting putting a jacket on as soon as you entered your car and felt how hot it was inside. You started the car, turned the ac on, waited until you could breathe properly, and felt like you wouldn’t melt in the car seat. You grabbed your phone and pasted the mechanic shop address in the GPS app. It wasn’t too far from your house, which you were grateful for since it meant you didn’t need to wake up extra early to reach the shop in time. The drive was quiet, the traffic was low, and deep down you wished it was high just so you could have time to calm your nerves. The app indicated that you were a minute away so you looked around the street until you spotted a sign that read Gearbox Garage. You made a turn and pulled into the small driveway the shop had to park cars. You turned your car off and took a deep breath as you pulled your keys out and got out of the car. You walked to the front of the shop and it looked empty, making you think that maybe you should’ve given Heeseung a call before coming. Looking at the time on your phone, it marked 2:30 pm meaning they could be on lunch break. You walked into the shop and looked around, the shop was well organised for a mechanic shop, it wasn’t as dirty as you expected it to be but small oil puddles and thrown cloths could be seen here and there. There were only a few cars, not that you expected more since the place wasn’t the biggest. Taking one more look around, you saw a door with a sign that said staff only, you walked towards it and knocked, hoping somebody would open it and it would be Heeseung. You waited a few seconds until a tall man opened it with a sandwich in his hand and sauce and bread crumbs in the sides of his mouth. He looked at you with a confused expression as he leaned in the doorway.

“Um I’m here to talk with Heeseung, I’m friends with his girlfriend and she told me he’s looking for one more person to work here so-” you were cut off as the man walked away and shouted, “Heeseung hyung, there’s someone for you!” a faint coming could be heard in the distance as another figure started approaching the door. Said Heeseung appears in front of you. “So you must be the y/n Sohee’s always talking about?” he said looking at you with an extended hand, waiting for you to shake it. You took his hand in yours as you shook it, hoping he didn’t notice how sweaty it was from your nerves. “Ah yeah, that’s me! I’m assuming she told you how I wanted the job, right?” “Oh yes, she did tell me about it and I just need you to answer a few questions to know whether you can get the job is that ok?” Shit, smile and nod y/n. You quickly nodded at his words, hoping he wouldn’t ask if you knew how to do complex things. “I just need to know what kind of things you can fix or have done.” “Oh! I have done quite a few things, I’ve changed oils, fixed engine chains, changed batteries, changed tires and other small fixes.” you nodded and fiddled nervously with your fingers, silently hoping this was enough to have him accept you to this job. Heeseung nodded and slightly smiled at your words and extended his hand again. You looked at his hands and then at him and he laughed at your confusion. “Seems like you’re our newest employee, welcome!” you let out a breath of relief and shook his hand again. “Oh my god, thank you so much! I promise I'll try my best.” you said firmly as you offered him a smile. “No need to thank me. We really need one or two more employees so you’re big help right now. Anyways, you can start maybe tomorrow at 9 am?” “Oh sure, I can, see you tomorrow then!” Heeseung nodded at you and went back to the staff room as you made your way out to your car.

As soon as you sat in your car you immediately texted Sohee, thanking her for having such a nice boyfriend. You put your phone down and sigh happily. You got the job now, what could go wrong? Now you just need to focus on working hard and getting that money to go on that trip.

The sound of your alarm made you stir awake. You groaned as you stretched out and let your arms fall limp in bed with a loud thump. You closed your eyes as you let out a sigh, getting mentally ready for your first day at work. Getting out of bed, you made your way to the bathroom to take your morning shower. You turned the water on and let it warm a little bit before you went in. The warm water felt relaxing against your skin, an almost therapeutic feeling. As you washed yourself you started thinking about how would your first day at work, hoping you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of the rest of the boys and could get along with them. Now, it wasn’t like you had a hard time making friends, quite the opposite. Still, you were always a little awkward when you first met people, all thanks to your constant overthinking, never knowing if people enjoyed talking to you or not. You could say you had a pretty vast friend group but you weren’t as close with anyone as you were with Sohee. She has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. She’s been there for you anytime you needed and you for her. Sohee was the one who helped you come out of your comfort zone and try new things. Without her, you wouldn’t enjoy your teenage years as much as you did, hell, if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t even dream of going on the damn trip.

You got out of the shower and stepped in front of the mirror, wiping some of the steam off of it. You started doing your normal skincare routine that, normally, would be a relaxing moment for you, but now you were only thinking about how you could be getting ready to head to the beach with your friends and drink a cocktail while tanning, and now you were only harshly rubbing the products on your face with irritation. Taking a deep breath you moved to your room to finish getting ready so you could leave the house as soon as you could. You looked in the mirror, taking in your appearance one last time before leaving the house, not that the way you looked right now mattered because you were more than sure that sooner or later you would be covered in oil and car fluids so you opted for your old overalls with an old shirt underneath.

The drive downtown was quiet and easy-going, still, there was some traffic since everyone started their work around the same time. The car’s clock indicated that it was 8:50, making you relieved that you weren’t gonna be late on your first day of work. Making the already familiar last turn, you reached the shop, parking in the lot it had inside. You got out of the car and instantly felt the slight summer breeze that ran through the morning air. Walking inside the shop, you could already hear some shuffling going on around the shop. As you got in further, you saw Heeseung who probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet from his crouched position, cleaning up some tools and putting them in a separate box.

“Good morning, Hee!” you greeted, startling him. He got up and turned to face you with a surprised expression. “Oh hey, y/n! Wasn’t expecting you to be this early, though.” He said, chuckling as he wiped his hands with a cloth. “Well, you know, didn’t wanna be too late on my first day of work, I guess,” you said, swinging yourself back and forth, avoiding his gaze, feeling kinda awkward with yourself for worrying so much about being on time. “Usually the other boys come super late since they come all together so you shouldn’t worry about being on time here. Also, we’re supposed to be all friends here, so don’t put too much pressure on yourself about working here, it’s all chill here!” Heeseung said, trying to reassure and comfort you. “I guess it’s just a matter of time for me to get used to it.” you clapped your hands behind your back as you finished talking. “Anyways, should I start working?” you suggested. “Oh, yeah. Actually, there’s a car that needs an oil change, so maybe you could start by doing that.” Heeseung said, pointing to a red car that was already up in the hydraulic lift. “Sure thing!”

You put on some gloves that Heeseung gave you and started getting to work. Changing oil was something you did quite a lot, it was one of the first things your dad taught you, something that was so hard for you back then is now a piece of cake for you. Having a passion for cars made learning things way easier for you. Obviously, this old passion of yours wasn’t seen as a good thing for some people. Some would tell you girls shouldn’t be working with cars as it was the role for the boys or that you should be playing with your dolls instead of getting in your dad’s way while he was fixing his car. Of course, your little kid self felt awful hearing such things, but your parents would always reassure you that it didn’t matter what they said and that it was okay to want to learn those things. As time went by, people stopped commenting less and less. As you grew up you learned how to stand up for yourself and you wouldn’t leave those people without a response, and with time they learned how to mind their own business.

As you waited for the oil to fully drain, you heard a car pull up in the parking lot and the rest of the five boys arrived together, just as Heeseung had mentioned previously. You got up from your kneeling position and turned to look at them as they all got in and greeted Heeseung. Their loud voices quickly filled the place that was once only filled by the quiet tunes from Heeseung’s playlist and the occasional clanking of tools hitting the floor. You went back to work as they all talked with each other and started getting ready to work. You heard steps coming in your direction, making you look back to where it came from, seeing Jungwon walking towards you with his dimples on display.

“Good morning, y/n! You know it’s weird seeing someone who’s not Heeseung working here this early.” Jungwon said as he walked towards you, chuckling to himself. Stopping what you were doing, you turned all your attention to him. “Guess someone needed to give him some company, no?” you said putting your hands on your hips. “Keep going like that and he might give you the “employee of the month” title,” he said, making you laugh at him. “Anyways, what are you doing?” he asked, nodding at the car above you on the lift. “Oh, changing some oil, was about to put a new filter on.” you said as you pointed at the car’s oil pan, “Shouldn’t you get to work as well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, making him scowl at you. “Don’t remind me, Heeseung gave me a shit ton of cars to clean, got work for a whole week,” he said rolling his eyes. Jungwon walked away to start working on his cleaning duty and you put your focus back on the oil filter.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime and the seven of you were all gathered in the staff room. You were all talking about multiple things and something that came to conversation was how they had never seen you around campus.

“I mean, I guess I’m not necessarily a social butterfly and we might not even have classes in the same place, so that might explain why we never crossed paths.” you explained as you ate some of your tuna-mayo wrap you brought from home, they all hummed in agreement. “What are you majoring in, though?” Sunghoon asked you as he looked up from his lunchbox. “Oh, I study computer science!” “Oh really? Then you must know Jake? Jake Sim? He shares a few classes with comp sci students” Heeseung asked, surprised to know you were in the same major as his best friend. You hummed in thought as the name sounded familiar. “It does ring a bell but I’m not really adding a face to the name though.” You said slightly tilting your head to the side as you tried your best to remember who the hell was Jake Sim. “Yeah, let’s just say his attendance isn’t exactly the highest…” Heeseung said as he hissed quietly. “Oh… yeah that must explain why I don’t remember him then.” You said chuckling. “Don’t misunderstand it. It’s not like he doesn’t care about classes, I mean he kinda doesn’t, but he is much more focused on football.” Heeseung paused as if he was in deep thought. “Jake knows if anything school-related goes wrong for him he can just take over his dad’s business, which most likely will happen.” You hummed, understanding what he meant.

It wasn’t rare for jocks like Jake to skip classes and ignore the fact that they need to graduate. Still, some of them were lucky to have successful family businesses, like Jake was. His father was one of the most prestigious CEOs and businessmen of Seoul and even the whole of South Korea. He led one of the most famous costume software development companies around, starting in a small office in Seoul that, over the years, grew all over the country’s most famous districts. Jake obviously was following his father’s steps, deciding to follow the computer science field so one day he could take over his father’s business. Was this his dream? No. Did he really wanna be a future CEO? Also no. He was doing this solely because he knew his dad would never approve of his younger son pursuing a football career. His older brother, Jaewoo, was already following the business field and Jake was just expected to do the same as him and since the older sibling decided not to work in his father’s company, he was the last hope to keep the business going so he felt like he had no other option. He felt suffocated knowing that everyone had high expectations for him, having people constantly asking him if he was happy to know he would take over the oh-so successful business, to which he obviously smiled and nodded but deep down he felt mad, almost furious, that people only expected him to do that. No one ever asked him about football, even though everyone knew he was good and even the best in the team and could grow so much more in that field if it weren’t for people like them who only cared about status and money. That’s not who Jake wants to become, selfish and greedy.

The day came to an end, the sky had a pink and orange hue to it, creating a beautiful painting, pleasing and conforming to gaze at. You started organizing all the tools you had used, placing them in their respective place in the toolbox Heeseung had lent you. Distant chattering could be heard from the other boys playing around as they had also finished their work for the day. You were walking towards the bathroom to wash your hands when you heard someone call your name.

“Hey, y/n!” You looked back to see Sunghoon, who called you, and the rest of the guys looking at you. “Come out for dinner with us, we’re going to the barbeque place downtown.” “Um, I don’t know guys, it’s gonna get late and we have work again tomorrow…” You said, scratching the back of your neck, suddenly feeling shy, not being used to going out with people you barely knew. “Oh come on, to celebrate your first day being one of us! It’s on Heeseung tonight!” Ni-ki said patting the older man on the back, who was about to complain but quickly agreed with the younger one as he felt him pinching him. “Yeah, y/n, don’t even worry about coming late tomorrow.” Your eyes flickered between all of them until you decided to agree with them, realizing that maybe you need to loosen up a little and stop being such a pussy. You sighed, nodding your head at them “Ok, fine! But I’m not paying!” You said raising your hands. The boys cheered dramatically, making you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. “Anyways, I’m going home to get ready, just text me later with the address.” Everyone bid their goodbyes and you made your way back to your car, ready to go home.

As you entered your house, your mom came to greet you, kissing your cheek in the process. “Hey, dear. How was your first day at work?” she asked you, grabbing your jacket and putting it into the coat hanger at your entrance. “Oh, it actually went really well. Wasn’t expecting to work as much as I did, but I’m proud that I could do that much.” “Ah, you must be so tired, honey! Was the lunch I made enough? Oh, maybe I should’ve-” “Mom,” you said laughing “It was more than enough, don’t worry about it, ok?” you reassured her, rubbing her arms that rested on her side as she looked tense. “Anyways, they all invited me to dinner so I’m gonna shower and get ready.” You kissed her cheek and ran upstairs towards your room.

Dinner yesterday went smoothly. All your worries about not being able to get along with them were quickly thrown away when you found yourself talking with them like you’ve known them for ages. The night was filled with laughter, maybe because of the funny stories being shared or maybe it was the alcohol that everyone- except Ni-ki- had consumed. You were glad you were able to let yourself loose and enjoy the night to the max, you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun since you were always so busy with college and finals were kicking your ass. The last thing you remember doing that night was texting Sohee that you had gotten home safely and you had enjoyed the night.

Now you were waking up with the buzz of your alarm, opening your eyes only to close them right away when the bright sun rays hit your face. You sat up on the bed, feeling your head pound making you hiss at the strong feeling. You got up and walked to the bathroom scolding yourself to never drink on a work night again.

Driving to work today was painful, no matter how strong the medicine you took was or how much orange juice you drank, the pounding headache you got was not going away and the dark circles under your eyes also weren’t a very pleasant sight to see so you opted to wear a pair of sunglasses. You looked at the time and it marked 9:40 am, definitely not on time but no one could really blame you for being extra slow today and your mom also made sure to take a few more minutes from your time to scold you about being late out and drinking when you had work the next day.

Arriving at the shop, you saw everyone already there making you sigh, hating yourself for being the last one arriving at work. Walking inside you saw that no one was working, instead, they were all sitting at a table near the entrance, some of them laying their head down on the table and others drinking energy drinks to be able to go on with their day. “I don’t even know if it’s safe to say good morning.” you said sitting down next to them, plopping down on the chair, hissing at the quick movement that made the pounding sensation in your head stronger. No one was able to say anything so you were all sitting down in silence, looking at the cars driving by the shop. Any passer-by would think you had nothing to do when in fact there was way too much to do than any of you could.

“Remind me to never do this again, please.” Jungwon said referring to going out until late, making everyone hum in agreement. Suddenly, Heeseung gets up, clapping his hands and then rubbing them together “Let’s get to work. These cars aren’t gonna fix themselves.” Everyone groaned at the older man’s words, some complaining, saying it would be fair to take a day one, only receiving Heeseung’s glare in return. “Anyways, y/n, I know you just got here, but I really need you to do me a favour,” Heeseung said, turning to you. You stared at him through your glasses in response “Pretty please?” He said lacing his hands together, making you sigh and roll your eyes. “Oh my god, fine! What is it then?” You said putting your hand on your hip with a sigh. “I need you to go downtown to pick up a parcel at the post. It has some pieces that I need for the car I'm fixing.” You said nothing in return aside from an I’ll be back soon as you entered the car.

The drive back to the shop was awful, you were stuck in traffic for almost an hour and about to burst in anger. “If it wasn’t for Heeseung and his stupid parcel…” you said, talking to yourself. When you arrived back at the shop you were more than ready to throw hands at Heeseung, if the parcel weren’t so heavy you would be running in his direction. “I swear to God, Heeseung, if you ever, but ever make me go through all this traffic again, man, I swear on my life I won’t-” You stopped in your tracks when you saw what was in front of you. “Oh my good God, what in the good earth, I- oh my goodness.” you dropped the parcel on the floor as you approached Sunghoon who was near the entrance. “Hoon, please tell me I’m not seeing things and my eyes aren’t deceiving me.” You exclaimed, your eyes never moving away from the car in front of you. Sunghoon swore he never saw your eyes shining so brightly “Hoon, is this a freaking Ford Mustang from ‘69?” you said in a high-pitched voice as your hands made their way to your face, cupping your cheeks. It wasn’t until you heard a deep chuckle that you noticed a figure next to Sunghoon. You looked in the person’s direction and you were met with a beautiful, almost ethereal, face that was already looking at you, sporting a smirk, making you feel nervous under his strong gaze. Your eyes looked him up and down, noticing he was dressed in designer head to toe. His face was familiar to you but you couldn’t grasp any memory with his face on it.

“You like it?” he asked, nodding his head towards the car before you. You nodded at him with a hum, words suddenly stuck in your throat and you didn’t even dare to try and speak, fearing your voice would fail you. He chuckled at you, finding amusement in your shy behaviour. “You wanna touch it?” he asked raising his brow as his smirk turned into a beautiful grin. You felt your cheeks grow hotter than before and Sunghoon decided to intervene before Jake could keep going, sensing his suggestive undertone. “Ok, that’s enough for you two, geez!” he said rolling his eyes, before speaking again “Anyways, you can leave the car here and Heeseung or anyone will take care of it, you already know you’re in good hands here so no need to worry.” “Alright then, just call me when it’s done, yeah?” Jake said as he and Sunghoon dapped each other up before he left, not forgetting to wink and wave at you, to which you gave a small wave back. “Kids these days.” Sunghoon said sighing and shaking his head at you, making you frown at him. “Shut up!” you said slapping his arm as you walked past him to pick up the parcel you left on the floor.

You walked back inside the shop, finding Heeseung crouched on the floor as he cleaned some rims he just fixed. “Hey Hee, got your parcel here. Do you want me to put it somewhere or should I just leave it here?” you said as you approached his figure “Oh, you can just leave it in that chair, I’m gonna need that in a while.” he said getting up as he wiped his forehead with his arm. “By the way, Jake’s car, the one in the entrance, needs to get the left view mirror changed, he broke it while parking somewhere. So, since I'm working on this car and it’s gonna take me a while, you’re going to be the one fixing it.” Oh! That was definitely interesting and caught your attention. “Oh, sure, no problem. It shouldn’t take too long.” This was only great. Not only were you fixing one of your dream and favourite cars but you were fixing a hot guy's car.

Later that day you arrived home with a happy sigh. Even though you were feeling extra tired from the hangover and work altogether, you could only think about your new acquaintance, a hot one. It has been a long time since you’ve felt like this for someone or especially for a boy. After your most recent ex-boyfriend, you tried to focus more on yourself and your friends since he hadn’t allowed you to do so. Those were times that were long gone and you wanted to erase them from your memory as you moved on.

You had dinner with your parents and went upstairs to get ready to go to bed earlier than usual to recover those lost hours of sleep. You showered and did your usual night routine, being extra careful and allowing yourself to relax. As you sat in bed, you grabbed your phone, seeing multiple notifications, since you don’t use your phone during work, from texts from your friends and social media ones, but there was one that caught your attention. For a moment you thought you were having delusional visions, but as you clicked on it it took you directly to Jake’s Instagram profile and the top showed the Accept and Decline button. He had found his way to your profile and it had you giggling silently, making you feel like you were in high school all over again. It had been about 3 hours since he sent the request so it was safe to accept without looking like a creep. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you proceeded to answer your texts and update Sohee on the tea, so you called her.

“Sohee, I kid you not, he is so attractive, I can’t!” you heard her sigh for the nth time on the phone, feeling her eye roll through the screen. “Y/n, I’ve seen him plenty of times, and trust me, I know he is, but be careful, I heard some things about him, though.” “Don’t worry about that, it’s just a silly crush. I’ll be over it sooner or later.” Sohee sighed again and you could hear her moving around in her bed sheets. “Yeah, whatever. We’ll talk later. Heeseung is calling me.” After talking with Sohee you were left alone with your thoughts as you scrolled on your phone but you weren’t really paying any attention to any of the posts, as you were thinking about Sohee’s warning. You decided to put your phone down and go to sleep to calm the thoughts running through your mind. As you were feeling yourself fall into a slumber, you heard your phone buzz but you chose to ignore it. You turn to the other side, getting comfortable to fall asleep again but again, your phone buzzes making you sit up and grab it aggressively. You turned it on, the bright light making you squint your eyes as you turned the brightness down. You unlocked it, checking who was texting at this hour. You felt your heart pound, getting nervous, as you saw Jake had dmed you. You click on his text, not caring if it had only been seconds from his last text.

simjaeyun_: hey :) 11:37pm

simjaeyun_: ignoring me now mnh? 11:46 pm

youruser: stalking me now huh? 11:47 pm

youruser: didn’t take for the stalker type tbh 11:47 pm

Your heart started beating quicker when you saw how fast he started typing an answer.

simjaeyun_: then what type do you take me to be? 11:48 pm

youruser: well 11:48 pm

youruser: definitely the one who makes other people stalk you not the other way around. 11:48 pm

simjaeyun_: maybe you just caught my attention like that ;) 11:48 pm

youruser: oh? did i now? 11:49 pm

simjaeyun_: maybe, find it out yourself :) 11:49 pm

You looked at the texts, feeling a soft blush creeping on your cheeks as you hugged your knees to your chest. You decided to leave him on read, not really having an answer to his text but Jake himself wasn’t expecting to get one back. You looked at the ceiling, having lost all your sleep by now. You closed your eyes and sighed as you slid down your bed until you were laying down. You turned to the side, watching the moon from your window, which you usually left open since it helped you wake up. You closed your eyes, trying to sleep, as the image of the texts kept appearing in your head, keeping you awake for a while.

The next day you woke up, remembering last night's events, making you clutch your sheets closer to your chest. You sat up on the edge of the bed, as you sighed and rubbed your face with your hands, making your way to the bathroom to do your routine and maybe it would help you keep your thoughts away from him. You looked in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, glad to see your dark circles were already gone. You did your usual skincare routine and headed down to the kitchen to have breakfast, seeing your mom had made you some pancakes and a black coffee, which were placed neatly on the table where she was already eating.

“Good morning mom!” you greeted her with a smile as you sat in front of her. “Good morning, dear! Did you sleep well?” “Oh yeah, I did! I went to sleep earlier to recover from the hangover…” She sighed at your words as she gave you a warning look, reminding you of her scolding. “Is there a special occasion for you to make me breakfast?” You asked as you took a bite of pancakes. “Not really, can’t I be sweet for my daughter once in a while?” She answered and you squinted at her, knowing there was a reason behind it, she wasn’t one to do these things just because. “You came home smilier than usual. Anything special happened at work?” She asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could. You stopped your movement for less than a second but enough time for her to notice. “Um, not really, was just happy.” You said after taking a sip from your coffee and putting the mug down. “Are you sure it was just that?” She propped her elbows on the table with her hands intertwined, looking as if she was questioning you for a crime you did. “Yes, mom. I’m pretty sure.” She hummed, taking a sip from her tea. “Is that why you were squealing with Sohee on the phone last night?” You gasped at her words. “Mom! Were you eavesdropping on me?” You asked her shocked that she had heard you talking with Sohee. “Oh no, dear. You know I’m not one to do that. I just happened to be walking past your room and heard you all excited about a certain- oh what was the name?” She stopped, trying to remember “Oh! Jake! Yes, Jake. Now, you wanna tell me about that?” You blushed at her words as if you were caught doing something bad or she heard a secret of yours. “Mom! No!” You said getting up from your chair, leaving a small bit of pancake on your plate. “I’m leaving. I need to go to work. Bye, love you!” You started walking faster, rushing to the door after picking up your house and car keys.

You entered the car, thinking about the conversation with your mom, reminding yourself to be more careful when talking with Sohee on the phone. You reached the shop just on time, parking your car in your usual place, which by now, you claimed as yours. You walked inside, seeing Heeseung and Ni-ki talking about something about a car.

“Good morning guys!” you greeted as you put your lunch bag down. They both looked back at you, seeming relieved you were finally there. “Oh thank God you’re here.” Ni-ki sighed. “Yeah, what’s up?” You asked, intrigued as to what they needed you for. “So, we were discussing car designs for me to do in the car Heeseung is taking care of, but the problem is that we can’t agree on one design.” He started explaining as Heeseunf put his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes at the younger male. “So tell me. in between these which one is better?” He finished, showing pictures of different designs. You hummed in thought as you looked carefully at the pictures and the car behind them. “I think for this car these two thick stripes would fit the best, but that’s my opinion!” “See! I told you! You won’t listen to me. Y/n, he won’t agree with me, please help me.” Ni-ki said as he put his hands together in a plea. “Sorry, Hee. Gotta agree with him in this one.” Heeseung looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. “Don’t fire me?” You said shrugging your shoulders at him. The older man rolled his eyes, sighing as he finally gave in. “Fine, but only because it's two against one.” “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say hyung.” Ni-ki said leaving the area, you looked at him shrugging at him, “Kids these days.” he said under his breath in a mumble.

You grabbed your stuff from where you had previously put it and took it into the staff room. Coming back to the area, you grabbed some gloves and put them on, ready to start working on Jake’s car. Heeseung had already put it in a space for you to fix it and besides it was a box with the side view mirror to replace to broken one. You’ve never changed a mirror before, but you remember one time when your dad did when your mom hit it on the wall while she was parking the car in the garage. It wasn’t much of a hassle, it was easy and simple. You opened the car’s door and you were met with the beautiful interior, which Jake had most likely renovated into a more modern one, but still had a vintage touch to it. The car smelled like a man’s perfume, probably his own, mixed with a leathery scent that came from the beautiful black leather seats with red details. Snapping out of your daze with the car’s interior you went back to work. You started by carefully taking out the mirror’s trim cover and removing the screws that were hidden.

As you were taking out the screws and putting them in a spare box, you felt a presence coming up behind you. Looking up, you found Sunghoon looking at you as he leaned on the car door. “Hey there!” you said as you kept doing your work. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” He said with a smug smirk adorning his face, making you roll your eyes. “Go away Sunghoon.” You said but still, you had a smile on your face. “It’s nothing special.” you finished. “You can’t be saying that when you acted how you did yesterday when you saw the car, practically fangirling over it. I mean, not to mention how you were fangirling over Ja-” “Shut up!” you said looking at him. “I wasn’t, you were seeing things.” Sunghoon laughed at your behaviour. “C’mon, no need to act shy now.” He started “You know, he texted me yesterday.” “Ok? And why should i care?” You said raising a brow at him. “He was asking me, or better, begging me to give him your Instagram.” You looked away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up. “I don’t know why he would do that!” You said, pretending to be interested in those screws. “Eh, you’ll eventually find out, I guess.” He said making you look back at him. “What is that supposed to mean.” You asked suddenly interested in what he had to say. He started walking away, his back turned to you “Nothing you should worry your pretty head about.” He answered, making you tilt your head, confused at his words. You sighed as you went back to working on that mirror.

It wasn’t too long after your conversation with Sunghoon that little by little everyone started gathering in front of the staff-only door to eat lunch. You got up and joined Jungwon and Sunoo, who was engrossed in a conversation about the latest tea about someone on campus. You were so focused on observing and listening to them talk that you didn’t notice an extra someone entering the shop until Jay mentioned it.

“Jake? What are you doing here man?” That made your ears perk up, but you pretended to still be listening to the gossip you were previously listening to. “Your mirror still isn’t fixed, so no luck for you today.” Heeseung said also greeting him with the handshake their group shared. You looked at them at the mention of the mirror, so it wouldn’t look as suspicious. “Yeah, I figured. Just wanted to join you guys for lunch.” He said raising his take-out bag. You heard someone gasp, looking you saw Ni-ki looking with heart eyes at the take-out bag. “Is that for us?” He said with his boxy smile. Everyone looked at Jake with hopeful eyes. “What? No, it’s mine! And no way in hell I’m sharing this with you guys.” Jake said in a warning tone. Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes at him “You’re literally no fun.” Sunoo said giving him a judging look. Jake simply shrugged as he looked around the room until his eyes met yours, making him bite back a smirk. Sunghoon, who was watching carefully and aware of the situation, nudged you slightly when Jake looked away, making you mouth a what? at him which he only answered with a smirk.

You all moved inside the staff room, sitting around the round table. Jake was sitting across from you and you were sitting in between Sunghoon and Ni-ki. Every time you looked up you would be met with Jake’s eyes staring into you shamelessly, making you bounce your feet nervously. Your eyes drifted towards Sunghoon and you were able to see the smirk he was hiding with food while looking between you and Jake until he finally noticed you looking at him, making him raise his eyebrows at you to which you answered with a shrug as you looked back to your food. You wondered if Jake was going to talk to you anytime today. Since he arrived today he hadn’t even spoken a word to you, not even a simple Hi, making you wonder if he was only the all-talk type through social media or if he just didn’t have the guts to talk to you personally, but still, he had no problem flirting and teasing you when you guys first met.

Lunch was over and you got back to work. Jake hadn’t gone away yet, lingering around the shop, mainly around Heeseung as they talked about things you couldn’t listen to. The sudden realization that you were working on his car hit and you wondered if he was gonna approach you in a way. Snapping out of your thoughts, you went back to finish fixing the mirror, already more than halfway done. You were putting everything back in place, with the mirror already replaced, when you saw Jake walking towards you from your peripheral vision. You felt your breath hitch as your shoulders tensed the closer he got.

“I see you finally got to touch it, huh?” He said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh! Yeah, I did.” You answered with an awkward laugh, feeling your palms getting sweaty. “Like what you felt, sweetheart?” Your eyes widen at that, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. You were more than sure if any other man would’ve said that to you, you would’ve cringed right away, but not when said man looked like Jake did. “I- well-” Jake started laughing, making you feel somewhat embarrassed. “I’m just playing around. You’re not that shy through texting.” He said reminding you of how confident you may have sounded through texts. “Well, I guess it’s not the same as talking face-to-face, right?” You stated, looking up at him in the eyes. His mouth opened to say something but closed right away. “Yeah, you’re right.” He took a breath in as he straightened his posture. “Anyways, is the mirror any close to being done?” He wondered. “Oh yeah, actually I just need to test it and it’s all ready for you to take it home!” You said while smiling at him, proud that you were able to do something new quickly yet carefully. “Oh really? You were pretty quick. Can’t say I’m not impressed, though, in a positive way, of course.” You giggled at him. “Thanks, Jake. I appreciate that.” He smiled warmly at you, nodding your way as he walked away from you, leaving you alone to finish your work.

It was almost time to go home when Jake and Heeseung approached you next to Jake’s car, where you were slightly bent over, as you were touching up some scratches near the mirror area with touch-up black paint. You finished the work, smiling proudly at yourself, as you turned around to face the two boys who were watching you silently as you worked. You sighed happily at them, adjusting the oversized overalls that you wore for work. “I’m officially done!” You exclaimed as you stretched an arm towards the car. Heeseung patted Jake in the back signaling him to get him and his car home. “You can pay me later.” Heeseung said walking away, knowing if he stayed Jake would insist on paying. Jake sighed as he looked at you. “Thank you for doing this, by the way.“ He said with a smile, making you shrug. “You’re welcome, Jake. After all, it’s my job.” You answered, looking down as you kicked non-existent rocks. Jake gave you a wide grin, watching your face, appreciating the way your lashes touched your cheeks when you blinked and how you bit your lip when you were nervous. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he walked towards his car. “Tomorrow?” You tilted your head to the side but you got no response as he got in his car. The engine purred as he drove out of the garage, leaving you standing dumbfounded. “Will I ever figure him out?”

Jake got home with only one thing, or rather someone, going through his mind. As cliché as it felt for him, he couldn’t understand what was in you that made him want to stay glued to you forever. He wanted to get to know you, know what you liked and disliked, and what were your hobbies. Did you have a pet? You didn’t really look like you had one. As soon as he entered his penthouse, he made his way to his room, falling into his bed with a thud, sighing as he felt his head make contact with his fluffy pillows. He still could feel his heart thumping in his chest, quicker than it ever beat. It felt weird, a good weird. He liked the feeling. One he only ever felt with his high school crush who had rejected him in his junior year. Jake groaned out loud as his arm fell to his face, covering his eyes. “What have you done to me?”

The past week was full of work. Everyone barely interacted, focused on getting everyone’s car fixed since it’s vacation season and everyone needed their car as soon as possible. Still, one thing everyone found weird was how Jake came to visit almost every day, something that never really happened through all these years everyone had worked there. Sunghoon always made sure to point out to you that Jake was always lingering close to you, making you give him annoyed remarks. Deep down you were glad he stood close to you as you got time to know him better and to your surprise he was more interesting than you ever thought a jock would be, no offence. You two would laugh with each other for hours until Heeseung needed to scold you to go back to work, hiding his smile as he watched you two playfully fight each other. His presence made work hours go by quicker and you started enjoying his presence a little bit too much, noticing the way your heart would beat a tad bit faster when you heard him laugh at something you said.

When you were done with work Jake would take you out and grab convenience store food for you two to eat in the park. It was in those moments that you both got vulnerable with each other, sharing all of your life stories, good and bad ones. Every night you call Sohee and rant about how scared you are of catching feelings for him, even though you knew you were already in deep, and she always reassured you that you shouldn’t feel like that as it’s only natural and what has to happen, will happen. Whatever you were feeling with Jake, is something you never felt with anyone before, as cliché as it can be, but your past dating history left a huge mark on you and you had a tendency to shut people out when they got too close, until now. The boys noticed a subtle shift in the way you and Jake interacted, but still, they only observed from afar, never intruding on whatever was happening between you two. It felt kind of weird for them to see Jake behaving that way around someone who wasn’t part of his friend group or more specifically with a girl, but deep down they felt happy seeing their friend finally letting himself loosen up.

The day at the shop was going smoothly, it was a bad day of work for Heeseung. There were no clients coming up and everyone except him was sitting around playing cards or just talking to each other as he finished fixing one car. You were sat at a table with Sunoo and Sunghoon, your hands covering your ears as they kept asking questions you didn’t wanna hear and less likely answer. “Come on, y/n!” Sunoo said pulling your hands out of your ears, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t like him, ok?” You sighed, “I literally met him, like, not even two weeks ago. I don’t even know him like that.” “y/n, you know damn well it’s not like that.” Sunghoon said leaning back in his chair. “Just admit you like him!” “Like who?” The three of you looked back to find Jake walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. “No one, I don’t like anyone.” You said closing your eyes as you propped your head in your hand. Jake looked at Sunghoon, as the latter smirked at him, making you glare not-so discreetly at him. Jake sat in a free chair next to you and the two other men thought it was a good idea to stand up and walk away, leaving you two alone.

“Bad work day?” He started. “Yeah, something like that.” You sighed, playing with a paper cup in front of you. “It’s just the end of the month and most people are on vacation by now so it was expected.” Jake hummed, an idea coming up to him. “So you have nothing to do, right?” You looked at him wondering why he was asking that. “Uh, yeah, I don’t.” You answered nodding at him. He got up, extending a hand to you. “Come.” He said as he smiled and nodded his head towards his way. You hesitated in grabbing his hand and getting up as he dragged you to his car. “But, the other we need to tell-” “Don’t worry ‘bout that. We’ll be quick.” Jake said as he opened his car door for you. You looked at the car and then at him, making him nod at you, urging you to get in. Jake sat in the driver's seat with a happy sigh. He looked at him, watching as you admired his car, gently touching the leather seats, feeling the wealth in your touch. You looked around the car in awe, making him giggle at your antics. You turned to look at him with a blush and a small smile, feeling shy he caught you as you admired his expensive car. He turned the keys, making the engine purr as you felt the seats vibrate with the loud sound. “Wow!” You said with a gasp “It feels so different when you’re actually inside the car.” You looked at him as he drove out of the shop’s driveway. “Yeah, I felt that too when I first drove it.” He said with a chuckle. “Where are you taking me?” You asked curiously. “You’ll see, princess. Enjoy the ride for now.” He answered as he chose a song to play for the ride.

You looked out of your window, seeing the sun almost setting, making the sky turn into an orange explosion. The ride was silent, a comfortable silence, and you found yourselves in an empty road, no words needed to be spoken as you admired the view ahead of you. You rolled your window down, laying your head on the edge of the door. Jake looked at you, admiring your hair that flew freely with the wind and how your eyes were shining in awe and you wore a smile. He looked back to the front and he bit a smile back, failing to do so as the corners of his lips curled upwards. Jake was now driving towards a kind of abyss. He stopped the car, turning off the engine. “Is this it?” You asked making him nod at you with a smile. You both walked out of the car and sat in its hood. You gasped at the view in front of you. You could see the whole city from above. All the tall skyscrapers looked tiny and the street lights were only small dots on a canvas. The sky above showed a pink and orange painting, and the sun had almost fully set.

“Jake” he looked at you, admiring your side profile “This is beautiful.” You finished, looking at him with a big grin, making him mirror your actions. You looked back ahead as you scooted closer to him in the hood of the car, feeling your shoulder touch his. Jake smiled to himself, not daring to look your way to avoid doing something he would regret. “Thank you.” You said looking at him, seeing how his eyes slightly widened. He looked down at his feet, feeling his ears get hotter “It’s nothing really.” “How did you even find this place?” You wondered. “This is gorgeous!” Jake finally looked at you, examining your face, sensing you were asking a genuine question and not just a rhetorical one. “Well,” He started with a sigh. “I usually come here to kind of unwind a little.” He said kicking some rocks on the floor. “It just tunes me out the rest of the world. I feel the best when I’m here.”

He felt the urge to keep talking as he felt you still looking at the side of his head. “Normally when I have a big argument with my dad I just come here and let everything out. No one comes here since it’s far from the city so now it’s my comfort place and I’ve never brought anyone here except for you.” He stopped talking, looking at you, seeing you with empathetic eyes. “Thank you for sharing that with me Jake.” You rubbed his back in a comforting way “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me all that, I know it’s not easy to deal with those kinds of problems, even if I never went through them myself. I hope you know I’m a shoulder you can lean on when you need one. You shouldn’t keep those thoughts to yourself.” Jake felt his eyes getting teary as he heard you talk. “I really appreciate that, y/n. I just feel like you give me so much of you and I never really shared something really intimate, so I thought this would feel just right.” He said holding his tears. You smiled at him, pulling his arm, grabbing it as you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking back to the view as a comfortable silence fell over you two. Jake’s head leaned in yours and he felt a soft bubble form in his chest, making him close his eyes and take a deep breath in of the fresh air that danced around both of your hairs.

The sun fully set after a while. Stars started appearing in the dark sky. “Look,” You said pointing to the sky “The first star of the night. Make a wish!” You finished as you looked at Jake. “A wish?” You nodded “Alright if you say so.” Both of you closed your eyes and put your hands together as you made your wishes. Jake opened his eyes to look at you, seeing you with your eyes closed and a giddy smile on your lips. You opened your eyes, looking at Jake only to find him already looking down at you, the summer breeze made his hair move beautifully. “What did you wish for?” he asked “Can’t tell you, it won’t come true if I do.” Jake chuckled at your answer, making you do the same. You both stared into each other eyes, not daring to look away as if you were in some trance with each other's eyes, giving you time to appreciate each other’s features. You couldn’t understand how people could view Jake as a bad being. Since the moment you both started getting closer, he was nothing but a sweetheart to you and besides that, you saw how he treated the other boys as well, always being caring with them, giving them food when one of them didn’t have enough or going as far as secretly ordering take out for Ni-ki when he had forgotten to pack his own lunch. They didn’t know him in reality. If they had seen him with your eyes they would know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone or anything purposely. They couldn’t see the sparkle in his eyes when he saw dogs playing in the park or the way his tongue would slightly poke his pouty lips when he focused on something. If only they could see him the way you do.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket, making you break the intense eye contact that seemed to last an eternity. You looked at the contact ID seeing it was your mom calling you, making you silently curse under your breath. “Hey, mom.” You turned to Jake, mouthing him a Sorry which he dismissed with a shake of his head. “Uh…” Your eyes started moving around nervously “I, uh, I’m with Jake, Mom.” You hissed, scratching the back of your neck. Your mom started going off excitedly about how she was right about him, making you roll your eyes, hoping the said man couldn’t hear what she was saying. “Um, Mom, I don’t- okay wait.” You turned to Jake with a sigh “You wanna come over for dinner?” You asked him, making him still for a moment. “Uh, sure, I mean, why not.” He answered shrugging, something you weren’t really expecting, but deep down you were kind of glad he had accepted. “Okay, he’s coming. Yeah, see you, bye Mom.” You hung up, standing up and looking at Jake. He only looked at you, not knowing what to say. “C’mon.” You pulled him off the hood “We got dinner waiting for us.”

You were driving back to the city, immersed in a conversation about various topics. “Also, I’m gonna warn you about my mom, she can be a little too much sometimes, so sorry in advance.” Jake laughed at your words. “Don’t say that. I’m pretty sure she means well.” He said looking at you. “If that makes you feel better about meeting her, then sure Jake, whatever you say.” Shortly after, Jake was pulling into your house’s driveway, making you feel nervous, the fact that he was meeting your parents finally sinking in. You don’t know why you felt like this, you two weren’t even dating. You walked to your front door and searched for the keys that were somewhere lost in your bag. Suddenly the door burst open, making you squeal in surprise as you almost tripped and if it weren’t for Jake you would’ve fallen on your butt. “Oh, what gentleman he is!” The door was fully open, revealing your mom who was now cooing at Jake. “Mom, don't.” you said in a warning tone, making her wave her hand at you dismissingly. “Oh, you must be Jake.” She said grabbing him by the arms “Come in you two.” She invited, making space for you to enter the house. “How was day, dear?” Your mom asked, making you break the mad face you were making at her with a small smile. “It was okay. We didn’t have any clients today which is not good for the shop.” “Oh, that must be really frustrating for you guys.” She said furrowing her brows in a worried way. “Anyways, let’s get to the kitchen. The food’s getting cold.” She smiled warmly at you two as she dragged you both to the kitchen. “Is dad not home?” You said with a small pout. “Oh no, he’s out for that company dinner he had. You know it.” You nodded at her letting out an Oh as you remember your father talking about it.

Jake tried to hide it, but as small as this interaction was, it was still a very domestic one. Those were the interactions he longed for but they never came to him. He felt a pang in his chest but your mom’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Give me your plate, dear. I’ll serve you.” She said smiling warmly at him, making him mirror her expression. Your mom seemed so sweet and he genuinely wanted to enjoy this small moment.

The three of you talked comfortably throughout the night. Jake was able to get those negative thoughts out of his head for a while as he interacted with you both. He loved watching you talk with your mom, seeing the way your eyes light up when she says something that makes you laugh. Just watching that made him smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by your mom. Jake saw his phone light up on the table with a text from his dad asking him where he was and another from a contact he promised himself to never answer again. This made his whole good mood disappear and he just felt like going home. He felt guilty to do this but felt the need to be alone and forget about those texts.

“Everything alright?” you asked with a worried expression, just then he noticed he had his brows pressed tightly together. “Oh um, yeah, just my dad texting me.” He said smiling at you, guilt eating him up, but deep down he wasn’t lying, just not telling the whale truth, which made him feel shitty. “It’s getting late so maybe I should go. Thank you for the meal, it was really good!” He got up, grabbing his jacket from the chair. You got up as well and followed him to your front door as your mom stayed in the kitchen cleaning up. “Hey,” You said grabbing his attention “Are you sure you’re alright? You looked pretty tense back there.” You asked in a worried tone. He sighed, nodding at you. “Yes, princess. Don’t worry about it. I’ll text you when I get home, yeah?” You nodded at him and you bid your goodbyes. Before he could leave, you grabbed his wrist. “Thank you for today, really.” You smiled widely at him, making him chuckle at you “You’re welcome, princess. Good night.” You let his hand go as you waved at him before closing the door. You turned around to see your mom leaning on the kitchen door. You held your hand up “Don’t even start, ok?” you said not wanting to have that conversation. “Dind’t day a word, honey.” She said smiling at you. “Whatever. Goodnight, Mom.” “Goodnight, dear.”

You let yourself fall into the comfort of your bed with a sigh. You grabbed your phone, seeing a notification from Jake, making you quickly tap on it.

jake <3: thank you for tonight, princess :)

jake <3: sorry for leaving so suddenly. my dad texted me and you know how it is…

you: jake you don’t need to thank me

you: we were both glad to have you eat with us and dont worry about that i totally understand

you: im gonna head to sleep now. goodnight jake :)

jake <3: goodnight princess:)

The next day at work you felt kind of uneasy. The way Jake left your house yesterday left you with an unsettling feeling. You didn’t know what his dad had texted him and you surely weren’t gonna ask him, you were in no place to do that. It was already 5:30 pm and Jake still hadn’t stopped by the shop, something unusual since he always comes by lunchtime. You didn’t want to think too much of it and tried to convince yourself that he was just busy. As you were cleaning up a car you just finished fixing, you heard footsteps coming towards you, making you look to see Heeseung and Sunghoon. “Lover boy didn’t come today, huh?” Sunghoon said making you roll your eyes before turning to look at them, now standing up from your crouching position. “He’s not my lover and you know that damn well.” you said propping your hand on your hip. “Yet!” Heeseung says with a stupid grin on his face.

“Anyways, we’re going to this party tonight and we wanted to invite you so you better be there.” the older male said. “Uh, I don’t know, guys. I’m not really-” “Not in the mood, yeah we know. Same story and it’s not working today. You are going today, no excuses.” Sunghoon paused for a while “You know, Jake’s gonna be there.” he said with a smirk. You lightly tapped your foot on the floor, knowing you didn’t really have a choice other than going and if you ended up going you would see Jake. Not that you missed him, maybe just a little bit though. “Fine, I guess I can go.” you sighed, crossing your arms “Where and when?” Heeseung gave you the details about the party, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Jake there. Even if you were still kind of sour about him not coming, you were sure he had a good reason not to, right?

You walked up to your mirror, checking yourself out one last time before leaving. You lightly rubbed your finger under your lips, cleaning a lipstick smudge. You looked at your outfit, a simple lace, black corset-like top paired with some black leather pants and black heels. The top felt a little too revealing for you, but you decided to come out of your comfort zone for once and try new things. You felt pretty. Your hair was just right, your makeup looked flawless and your outfit was tight just in the right places, flattering your silhouette. Tonight was the night and you were going to enjoy it to the fullest. Sohee had previously texted you, informing you she would also be there with Heeseung, which made you less stressed about this party. You drove to the address Heeseung had texted you, the clock showed 11:45, a reminder that you were 15 minutes late. “Typical y/n, am I right?” you mumbled to yourself when you stopped at a red light. Taking one last turn, you saw a sign with the name of the bar Hee had told you. You parked your car and walked towards the entrance, feeling the biting wind hit your skin, making you regret not taking a small coat with you. You entered the bar and it was already almost full since it was almost midnight. You passed and pushed through the crowd of people Excuses me’s and Sorry’s leaving your lips as you did so. Finally, you were able to spot a tall ash blond who could only be Heeseung and walked towards him.

“Hey and before you scold me, yes I know I’m late.” you said as you and Sohee hugged before taking a seat next to Jay. “Wouldn’t expect any different from you.” Sunghoon said making you let out Shup up to him. You looked around and saw everyone there except for one person. “Where’s Jake?” you asked still looking around, failing to notice the exchange of looks between the four of them. “He’s- Well, he is with some guys from the soccer team, yeah.” Sungoon said, a nervous smile dancing on his lips, making you tilt your head at him “Weird.” you thought out loud. “But don’t worry!” Sunoo said, making you look at him “He’ll probably be here… soon.” “Okay?” you answered, looking at Sohee who was just as confused as you were. There was an unfamiliar tension in the booth and before you could think further about it Heeseung spoke up “No more talking. Let’s get the night started and get drinks!” Everyone got up, greedy to finally get some alcohol in their systems, maybe that’s what you needed. You reached the counter and Heeseung ordered tequila shots for everyone. The shots were gone as quickly as they came and everyone was thirsting for more so Sunghoon ordered six more of the same.

You and Sohee made your way towards the dance floor full of sweating bodies. You were buzzing inside with the little alcohol in your system and the lights were making you dazed in the best way possible. It had been a long time since you and Sohee hung out like this and you were enjoying this just as much as she was. You had your arms thrown over her shoulders as she hugged your waist and you both swayed to whatever music was playing. The boys were looking at you with pure amusement on their faces, never having seen you like this but they were glad you were enjoying this night so far. Your body felt hot from the heat radiating from everyone around you. You saw couples kissing and grinding against each other and it made your mind wander to Jake and wonder if you and he were ever gonna dance like that like it was just the two of you in the room with no one to interrupt you both. You and your best friend went back to the counter to order drinks for yourselves while the boys went back to the booth.

“Can I get two Pink Whitneys with Sprite, please?” the bartender nodded at you before leaving to prepare the drinks. “Was wondering if you could still party, y/n” Sohee told you laughing. “Oh, shut up. It hasn’t been that long.” You both turned back to the counter when you heard the bartender speak. “For the pretty ladies.” He said putting the drinks in front of you, both of you mumbling Thanks in return. You closed your eyes as you savoured the drink you hadn’t tasted in a long time. “God, I forgot how much I love this.” You said taking a big sip of the pink drink. “Brings back old memories doesn’t it?” Sohee said leaning back as if she was having a flashback. Even though you were a stay-at-home person, back in the first years of college you went partying almost every night since Sohee was a social butterfly and always made sure to bring you along to whatever party she was invited to. Every time Heeseung would host a party, he made sure to have a hidden bottle of Pink Whitney in a small fridge that only he and the boys knew of for you and Sohee. You laughed at her as you tilted the cup towards her for a toast. “For old time’s sake.” She clinked her glass with yours “For old time’s sake!” she said before finishing her drink in one big gulp as she did the same.

You two got up, making your way to the booth the guys were at. Your vision was starting to blur from all the drinks you had. Only had your low alcohol tolerance to blame. You were trying to walk through the crowd when you spotted a familiar brunette in the middle of it. “Look! Jake’s there, let’s say hi!” you said pushing Sohee towards his way. The grin you had on your face started to slowly fade as your steps got slower. The closer you got to Jake the stronger the pang in your chest grew. You squeezed Sohee’s hand trying to get her attention but she had already seen enough. You two stood there watching as a girl eagerly kissed Jake’s neck, his face was hidden since he was looking opposite from where you were. “Jake?” You felt a pull on your heartstrings and a whimper left your quivering lips when Jake turned his head to the side and made eye contact with you. His face wasn’t showing any emotions previously, quickly contorted with shock as a gasp left his lips, making him immediately push the girl away. Still, Sohee was quicker to pull you away from where you were standing. She was letting out some curses on her way to the booth, something that you couldn’t hear.

When you finally reached the other boys they all were looking at you with worried expressions. Their eyes flickered between each other and you were finally able to catch on what was happening when you arrived. “You guys knew?” you said with a choked sob. None of them were saying a word, making your blood boil when you got your answer. “You all fucking knew this whole time.” you screamed, pointing your finger at them accusingly. “How long has it been going on?” Jay was quick to speak up. “It was just today.” he started. “We didn’t know she was gonna be here and I don’t think Jake knew either.” You were starting to get even more confused “What do you mean she?” you asked shaking your head. They all looked at each other not knowing what to say. “Heeseung, did you know about this?” Sohee asked her boyfriend, and he quickly shook his head no. “No, i swear. None of us knew and as he said it was probably a not-so-pleasant surprise for Jake as well.” Knowing that everyone knew who she was and they weren’t explaining it to you was leaving you irritated and you just wanted to leave. “Sohee can we just go home.” you quietly asked and she ran a hand down your back in a soothing manner. “Yeah, give me your car keys, I’ll drive.” You both turned to leave, no words were exchanged apart from a Drive safely from Heeseung.

When you sat in your car you felt like something exploded inside you as you started sobbing uncontrollably. You hid your face in your hands as you started sobbing. Sohee reached for you, holding you in her embrace. “I don’t even know why I’m crying it’s not like we had something.” you said trying to wipe your tears but they just kept coming. “Y/n, it wouldn’t take a genius to see that something was going on between you two. I can’t honestly understand why Jake would be with someone else, especially her.” “Will anyone ever tell me who she is?” you said in an annoyed tone. Sohee sighed as she sat back in the driver’s seat. “That girl was Aerin. Jake and her were in a weird situationship, kind of friends with benefits but not quite that. They had that going on for almost a year but he eventually broke it off because he finally opened his eyes and realized how much of a bitch she was, even though we were warning him since the beginning.” she paused with a sigh. “She didn’t take it very well since she had always been possessive with him but we thought she finally had gotten over it, it’s been, like, a year and something?” she turned to look at you, seeing you with your head propped in your knees. She raised her hand to cup your cheek, brushing it softly with her thumb.

“I just don’t understand why he would do this, after all that we’ve been through.” You said feeling tears coming back, pooling in your eyes. “Sohee, I let all of my guard down for him, I told him my everything and this feels like history is repeating itself, you know?” You told her as memories from your history with your ex brought you a sour feeling “Y/n, whatever happened between you and Jeno is long behind, I thought we had already talked about this.” “I am over it, Sohee! But seeing Jake do this is just bringing all those feelings back. Six months right after I opened up to Jeno I find out he was cheating on me with the girl I shouldn’t worry about and now when I finally feel like I can commit to someone again, I see Jake like that, how is that fair to me?” you said turning into a sobbing mess again. Your whole body was shaking and Sohee felt her heart shatter seeing her best friend like this.

“Y/n, I know this really isn’t the right time to say this but I’ve known Jake for as long as I’ve been dating Heeseung and I can’t understand why he is doing this. This really isn’t like him, at all.” She rubbed your back “I’m more than sure he will explain himself to you soon. This just doesn't sit right with me.” You wiped your eyes as you sniffed “I don’t want to see him anytime soon, Sohee.” She smiled sadly at you. “I know, honey, But you know it will eventually happen right? It’s inevitable.” You nodded at her, knowing she was right. “Let’s go home yeah? You can stay at mine today. Don’t want you dealing with this alone.”

Sohee drove off as you stared out the window. Millions of thoughts were running through your head and you felt like it was about to explode. Eventually, you fell asleep during the ride and only woke up when Sohee softly shook you when you arrived. You both entered her apartment, being immediately greeted by her cat who was rubbing herself in your legs. You crouched down to her level, rubbing behind her fluffy white ears, making her purr. Oh to be a cat. Sohee gave you one of her pyjamas for you to sleep in and some makeup wipes, knowing you probably wouldn’t even bother to take it off. You both slipped into her bed, sleeping together like you two would back in the day. You laid back against the headboard as she texted Heeseung to update him. Your own phone buzzed on the bedside table. You grabbed it and saw a notification that normally you would be excited to answer, but not today. You read the texts Jake had sent you.

jake <3: y/n please

jake <3: i know what it looks like but it isn’t like that

jake <3: let me explain please

jake <3: you know id never hurt you.

You dropped your phone in your lap as you rubbed your eyes with your hands, starting to sniff again. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the tears as you sighed and leaned back against the headboard. Sohee looked at your phone and then at you, making her sigh. “Where did i go wrong? I must’ve done something really bad in my past life to deserve this.” “Y/n, cut the nonsense, you don’t deserve this, ok?” she said grabbing your arms and turning to look at her. “You’re gonna get through this with me and when you’re ready you’re gonna go back to work and maybe talk with Jake, yeah?” You took a deep breath before nodding at her. “Good. Now you’re gonna rest and tomorrow we’ll see what’s gonna happen.” She grabbed your phone and turned it off, putting it on her bedside table. She turned the light off and you let your head fall into the pillow with a sigh. You stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off all the thoughts going through your head until you felt your eyes closing on their own.

The weekend had gone by slowly. You had texted your mom after everything happened to tell her you were gonna stay at Sohee’s for a few days. All you did was mop around the house and lay in your friend’s bed all day, only getting up when you really needed to. You were sure you were sleeping more than 12 hours a day and still felt like the energy was drowning out of you. Sohee tried to get you to go out and encourage you to go to work to help you forget things but the anxiety you felt at the possibility of encountering Jake was keeping you from doing so. You knew that staying home all day and doing nothing until Sohee came back from work wasn’t gonna help you in any way and you honestly wanted to do something about it but you had no energy to do anything. You walked to the kitchen for nth time that day, placing your cereal bowl on the sink with an accidental loud thud, making you hiss. You sighed as you looked at the mess of plates and cutlery you had accumulated in the sink within just a day. “God, what am I doing.” You said talking to yourself. You stared into nothingness as you got in deep thought. Being like this wasn’t gonna take you anywhere and avoiding situations where you might meet Jake won’t either. So, you made the final decision that you were going to work tomorrow, no matter what. You looked at the clock on the kitchen’s wall and saw it was already 6:30 pm, so without any more self pity you walked to the bathroom to take a shower, determined to get back to your usual work routine. You stared at your figure in the mirror and almost apologized to yourself as you took in your messy and unkempt appearance. You entered the shower and let the warm water fall on your tense shoulders. Sighing, you let your head lean into the shower wall as your body shook with a sob when Jake filled your mind again. Had he tried texting you anymore after that night? You couldn’t really know since you had blocked him on your social media. Was he hurting the way you did? What had really happened? Maybe you were overreacting all this. You should’ve let him explain himself. Dumb y/n, so dumb.

Jake felt horrible. You really had to come near him at the wrong moment and see something that really wasn’t what it looked like. But he should’ve known the moment she texted him the night he was at your house she was serious. Why couldn’t Aerin just get over the fact they weren’t together anymore, as if they were ever actually together. In his head, it was starting to be too good to be true. As if he was ever gonna get lucky with someone like you. Of course, he had to fuck it up in any way. It’s all your fault, Jake. This was all you. Those words kept repeating themselves in his head as he laid in his bed as his whole body was filled with piercing anxiety. He didn’t know what else to do. He called Heeseung and said you still hadn’t gone to work that week.

The boys knew about the situation and Jake always tried to explain himself while he cried on the phone with any of the guys, even if they reassured him they believed him every day. He should’ve known better than to get involved with Aerin in the first place. He had always been warned about it so why did he still do it? Why couldn’t he just do anything right. The past few days were spent with Jake lying in his bed as he cried and cried for as long as he could. All the feelings he bottled up for so long left his body, making his whole self shake. When he finally was able to open up fully to you, he had it all taken away, knowing you had let your whole guard down for him. He knew you weren’t doing any better than him and that hurt him even more. Knowing he couldn’t be the one to hold you and comfort you was killing. Jake knew he couldn’t stay like this forever and all he wanted to do nothing more than reach out to you and tell you his truth but he knew he had to give you space. So he waits for as long as he needs to because he is not letting you go because of her, he wasn’t letting that happen.

You woke up at the same time as Sohee. The moment you opened your eyes you instantly felt a pang in your chest, knowing you had to go to work today. You threw your arm over your eyes as you sighed. Sohee looked at you as she rubbed her eyes to wake herself up. “Good morning.” she told you to which you only answered with a grumble making her chuckle at you. She got out of bed, opening her curtains, making you squint at the bright light invading the room. “C’mon, get up. You need to get ready.” You sighed again at her words before sitting up on the bed. After you both got ready for work, you sat down at the table as you had breakfast together. “So,” Sohee said mid-chew “are you ready for today?” You looked at her as you sipped on your coffee. “I mean, no. But as you said I can’t keep avoiding him and it’s better if we talk already than not.” You answered as your fork played with the blueberries on your plate. “You got this, yeah?” Sohee reached for your hand across the table. You inhaled as you felt your eyes water but you held yourself back. You nodded at her as you whispered a Yeah in response to her.

You left around 10 am which was the time Sohee usually left for work. As you made your way to the shop, anxiety started bubbling up in your chest, making you take deep breaths to try and keep yourself together. There’s nothing to worry about. If Jake ended up showing up at the shop you guys were just gonna talk, or maybe not. Maybe he will explain to you and assure you it was not what it looked like or maybe he wasn’t and it was exactly what it looked like. “Well, shit.” you said to yourself as you arrived at the shop. You parked your car, seeing everyone already there. You stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air breeze around you. You walked inside and there stood Heeseung and Sunghoon staring at you with warm smiles. “Hey guys!” you greeted. You walked towards them and Sunghoon pulled you into a hug, making you let out a shaky breath. “How’ve you been, dummy?” He asked, letting you go of his arms. “Well, y’know, not good. But! I’m here to change that and yes I’m going to avoid that conversation, if you don’t mind.” They nodded their heads at you, Right and Of course! were their only answers before you asked Heeseung if there was any work for you to which he assigned you to check a car’s engine and gasket.

You got right to work and you were glad you could distract yourself for most of the time. The car needed to get his gasket changed and it wasn’t an easy task so you needed to have your full focus on it. Working made the day go by faster and you barely had time to lunch as you were so immersed in the task you were assigned to do. Sometimes Ni-ki would linger around you, mostly joking around as you worked, keeping you company, which you were glad he did. If anyone had told you you would’ve ended up getting a summer job at a mechanic shop and befriending the six workers you wouldn’t believe it. But you couldn’t be more glad that you did, you had quickly made six precious friendships with six boys who were all you could ask for in a friend. As someone who never found befriending people easy, you were quite proud of yourself as you had found six treasures in only a lifetime. You knew you could always rely on them, and despite the age gap between the two younger ones, you still would trust them with your life nonetheless.

You felt sweat dripping down your forehead as you worked, making you get up from your bent-over position to wipe the sweat with your forearm, adjusting the strap from your overall that was slipping off your shoulder. “God.” You sighed loudly. Heeseung slid from underneath a car to check on you, “Everything ok?” he asked sitting up. “I guess. Just this thing is harder than I thought it would be.” You said putting your hands on your hips as you stared at the engine in thought. You knew this was gonna be hard, but one wrong move you would need to do it all over. Heeseung got up and walked to where you stood staring at the car. “I think you’re going on the right path. Nothing is looking wrong or weird so keep going.” He said patting your back “You’re doing well, you always do.” You chuckled at his words “You flatter me, Lee.” He laughed at your words “All for the best of my wor-”

His words were cut off by the roar of an engine. A familiar Ford Mustang pulled up in the driveway. Your breath stopped for a while until you felt Heeseung get his hand off your back. “I think I should go somewhere else…” You nodded at him, fully understanding why he was doing it. You pretended to go back to work, trying to convince yourself that Jake wouldn’t come over to you if you did that. You heard footsteps getting closer to you and you felt your breath pick up its pace. You got this. “Hey…” You heard the deep yet soft voice say. You looked up to see Jake smiling softly at you and you almost teared up at that. You tried to reciprocate the smile but you were sure it came out shaky. “Hi, Jake.” You said nodding at him. Your gaze drifted from his figure, trying to look at anything but him, as you fiddled with your fingers. “Nice patch!” He said chuckling, making you blush as you stared at the Care Bears patch placed upon your knee. “There was ripped so my mom put it on for me.” You said still not looking at him, making him mutter a Cute under his breath, which you almost missed. “Why are you here?” You asked, looking at his face, but you knew damn well why he was here. Jake took a shaky breath in as he leaned against the wall behind him, his own gaze now avoiding yours.

“I guess- No, I know and I need to explain myself to you.” He started, gulping his anxiety away. “What you saw that night wasn’t something anyone would expect that would happen. I mean, I should’ve had to be honest. The night I went to have dinner with you and your mother I told you I had received a text from my father. Which isn’t a lie, because I did, but you also deserved to know that Aerin had also texted me.” His eyes finally met yours with an apologetic gaze. Your face was contorted in confusion and you waited for him to explain it further. “She somehow found out that you and I had been hanging out and that there was something between us and she texted me some nonsense about knowing I still wanted and was using you as a rebound.” You stared at the ground hearing those words. “Was I a rebound to you Jake?” You asked quietly “No!” He answered with no hesitation “Of course not! And I hope you never felt that way because all I did for you was genuine.” his hand twitched, Jake wanted to reach out to you but he knew he still had further explaining to do. “Going on. That night I was supposed to go out with guys from my soccer team as well as the guys here but Aerin somehow was involved with some of the guys in the team and joined as well. The moment you started approaching me she threw herself at me and started doing whatever she was doing and before I could react and push her away you had already seen it.” His voice became shaky as he played that moment back in his head. “And I would and never will blame you for reacting the way you did. If I was in that position I would do the same, most likely.” Tears started falling from your eyes as you heard him talk.

Your chest was tight with guilt. You felt bad for what you did to him. He didn’t deserve to go through what you made him go through. You sniffed as you tried to wipe the stubborn tears that kept falling. Jake took a step closer to you, feeling his own eyes water at the sight of your miserable state. “Baby, please don’t cry.” The pet name left his lips before he could think about it but you didn’t seem to have heard it or mind it. “Jake I’m so sorry.” You said between hiccups of sobs “Please, please forgive me. I probably made you go through hell when you didn’t even do anything. I was so selfish.” Your cries got louder as you spoke and you didn’t even care if the boys could hear you. “Y/n, no! Stop apologizing. It was not your fault, ok? You aren’t the one to blame. You weren’t the one causing this, Aering was.” He said pulling you into his embrace. The knot on your chest broke as you finally felt his comforting touch and scent that you loved so much. “I would forgive you in a heartbeat if you had anything to apologize for, but you don't, you hear me?” You looked up at him, sniffling softly as you nodded at him. Jake cupped your face to wipe your tears as he smiled softly at you. “I’m sorry I made you go through all of this.” You saw the tears pooling in his eyes, making you cup his cheek.

“Are we ok now?” He asked, worry still lingering in his tone. You smiled widely at him as you furiously nodded your head “Yes! God, Jake, of course!” You said chuckling between sniffs. He laughed along with you as he stared into your eyes endearingly. Your breath calmed down as you both stared into each other eyes. None of you making a move to look away. Your eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips and you caught a glimpse of him doing the same. You don’t know who was the first to move but suddenly your lips were on his as you two share a long-awaited kiss. Your arms went around his neck as his hands were still cupping your cheeks. You leaned your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Jake let out a happy sigh into the kiss, making you smile against his lips. You both pulled away and you let your eyes look around the room to avoid his gaze. Jake laughed at you and you buried your face into his neck to hide the crimson red spreading on your cheeks. Jake pulled you off of him and held your hand as he started pushing you outside. “Let’s go.” He said nodding towards his car. “Jake I can’t I have to finish-” “Don’t worry about that. I’m pretty sure Heeseung won’t mind.” You were hesitant but still let him drag you to his car. “Ok- wait. Slow down, oh my God. Isn’t this kidnapping? Geez!” You said scowling lightly at him at the eagerness he was pushing you with. “Stop talking nonsense, silly.”

The boys finally gathered around the entrance as they heard Jake’s car leave with you both inside it. “Well, it was kinda awkward.” Jungwon said breaking the silence. Sunoo rolled his eyes, slapping the boy's arm. “What? It’s true!” He said raising his hands in surrender. Silene took over again as everyone tried to process what had just happened. “If all it takes to leave work early is to argue with my girlfriend then I’m down.” “Ni-ki, shut the fuck up.”

You were anxious for today. Even though Jake has been countless times at your house and had dinner with your parents just as much, you’ve never been at his house, let alone met his parents. But it would change today, Jake had called you today, inviting you to have dinner with his parents at his house. As much as you wanted to refuse, you knew you couldn’t, you couldn’t delay this moment any longer, sooner or later it was gonna happen and it was happening today. You didn’t know how to really feel about it. From what Jake told you, you knew his dad wasn’t the best person but you didn’t know much about his mom. You felt anxiety creeping up your body as you got ready for the night. You tried to look the most presentable you could for Jake’s parents, not wanting to leave a bad first impression.

Your phone buzzed in your bed, you picked it up and saw Jake’s text telling you he was outside. You looked at your reflection one last time before grabbing your purse and leaving. When you got outside you were met with the breathtaking sight of Jake leaning against his car, looking like he just came from a cliché teenage movie. His skin was glowing with the bright sunshine, complementing his skin colour to perfection. His full black outfit was hugging in all the right places, making him look like a runway model. Jake noticed your staring, making him laugh silently. “You know you can take a closer look, right?” His words made you roll your eyes, despite feeling your cheeks grow hot. “You’re so cocky, Jake.” You said as you walked towards him, stopping in front of him as you leaned in for a peck. Jake hummed against your lips, holding your face to kiss you deeper. You tapped his cheek and pulled away, eyeing him with a warning stare. “We have places to be, young man.” Jake sighed at your words and you both got in the car.

Throughout the car ride, Jake noticed your fidgeting hands and he knew you were nervous. He put his hand on top of yours, still looking at the road ahead of him. “There’s nothing to be worried about, y/n” He said in a quiet voice, making you look at him at the sudden words. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking back to the road. “I know. It’s just- I don’t even know why I’m nervous.” You answered chuckling humorlessly. Jake gave your hand a squeeze, giving you a silent reassurance. “I know that from what I say about my dad he sounds scary but he can be nice sometimes and I’m sure he will be pretty okay with you, so don’t think too much about it, yeah? Besides my mom’s gonna be there so it won’t be as bad.” You nodded and smiled at him, leaning on the center console to peck his cheek, making him smile.

Soon enough, you both reached his parent’s house. You felt your heart starting to race as soon as you stepped out of the car. Jake walked beside you, grabbing your hand, holding it tightly against his. Something in him was telling you he was nervous as well and it made you look at him with worried eyes. You both stopped at the front door, looking at each other. Jake smiled at you, nodding his head towards the door, making you take a deep breath as you nodded back at him. He rang the doorbell, the sound echoing in the loud silence as you both waited impatiently.

The door finally opened, revealing a beautiful woman. She didn’t look any older than 45, her skin was smooth with barely any wrinkles adorning it, only faint ones that marked her joyful smile. Her hair had a chestnut tone to it and the perfectly styled curls reached her shoulders. “Jake, my love.” She said as she pulled the said man into her embrace. “I’ve missed you so much!” Jake smiled as he looked at her with a grin. “Missed you too, mom.” He said lovingly pecking her forehead. “Oh, goodness. You must be y/n, I’m Sooyoung! So glad to meet you dear!” She said pulling you in a hug, making you smile at her as you felt the nerves slowly leaving your body. “Yes, I am! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” You told her, as she held your hands in her’s. “You know, Jake sounded so excited to finally introduce you to us, he would always talk about you when he called.” You heard Jake groan beside you. “Mom!” “What? I’m just saying!” She said laughing at his son “Anyways, come inside. Dinner is almost ready!” She leads you both inside the house. “Do you need help with anything?” You asked her ��Oh no, dear! Don’t worry, everything’s almost done. You both wait in the leaving room while I finish it.”

Jake took you to the living room, where his father sat on the couch as he watched whatever news channel was playing. He cleared his throat, making his father loom at you both. “Hey, dad. This is y/n, my girlfriend.” Jake said introducing you to the older man. “Hi, sir. It’s nice to meet you!” You said bowing slightly at him, wiping your sweaty hands in the back of your pants. Jake’s father got up, walking towards the both of you. His straight lips formed a slight smile as he pulled you into a hug, making you let out a surprised sound. “It’s nice to see the girl my son can’t shut up about. Can’t say I’m not surprised to see my son could keep up with a girl like you.” You felt shy at his words, not really knowing what to say. “Ah, I’m sure it’s not like that.” You said rubbing your arm anxiously. He then walked to Jake, shaking hands with his son, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Hope you’ve been behaving well, son.” He said patting his son’s head. “Dad..” Jake said rolling his eyes. The three of you sat on the couch, Jake's dad’s eyes were on the TV but his focus was somewhere else.

“So,” He started. “Where did you two meet?” He asked, turning to look at you two. You looked at Jake and then at his father “We met at my workplace.” You said nodding at him. “You work?” He asked curiously. “Well, it’s a summer job, but yeah I do. Been there for about two and half months maybe?” You smiled at him, rubbing your hands back in forth on your thighs as you tried to ease the nerves. He hummed “And what do you do, may I ask?” “Dad, it’s enough questions.” Jake said but you stopped “It’s okay, Jake.” You said smiling at him. “I’m working at a mechanic shop, which I know it’s not usual as a summer job, but I enjoy it a lot.” His dad opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so, Sooyoung called everyone to the table.

You were all sat at the table peacefully, immersed in a casual conversation. “We should totally book a dinner with your parents y/n, Jake talks about how nice they are when he stays at your house. “ Jake’s mother suggested. “Yeah, I think that would be really nice. They would love it!” You told her, smiling at her as you went back to eating. You noticed Jake had been quiet most of the night, only talking when you were the topic of the conversation. It made you worried that he was behaving this way. You noticed the way his hands were trembling and you wanted nothing more than to comfort him right there and then. You put your utensils down when you finished the meal and one of your hands went to his tigh to rub it in a comforting manner. Jake’s movements faltered when he felt it. His free hand went down to where your hand was placed in his thigh and squeezed it in appreciation. You interlocked your fingers with his and his thumb started rubbing the back of your hand. Jake felt his heart warming up at your actions, looking at you as you spoke with his mother. He smiled, looking down at his empty plate as he tried to hide it.

Jake’s mom got up and walked towards the fridge. “If everyone’s finished, I made dessert!” She said as she put a homemade ice cream bowl on the table. She sat back down and the conversation went on. “y/n I almost forgot to ask! What are you studying?” Sooyung asked as she looked at you. her elbow propped on the table. “Oh, I’m majoring in computer science actually!” You answered with a smile. “I actually share a few classes with Jake.” You said looking at him with a smile, seeing him already looking at you. “Oh really! What a coincidence, isn’t it!” His mother beamed at you. Jake’s father scoffed beside his mother making you snap your head in his direction. “I’m surprised he actually attends classes.” He said looking down at his desert. Jake’s hand tightened almost painfully in your grip.

The tension in the room was thick and if you wanted you could cut it with a knife. Jake’s mother scolded him silently for speaking about it when you were present, but the man couldn’t care less. “Soccer, soccer, soccer. It’s all that goes through that head of his.” He said, finally looking up at his son, who stared at him with a stoic expression. “I work hard every day to give him a stable future and yet he doesn’t even think about pursuing that.” He said with an expression that could be read as disappointment. “Look at his brother. Working a high-paying job, a stable one, and yet, you can’t take it as an example to look up to. Do you really think soccer’s gonna take you anywhere in life?” He asked but he wasn’t really looking for an answer. Your heart felt like it could jump out of your chest with how quick it was beating. Jake’s face was emotionless but his hands were shaking as the force of his own father’s words hit him like rocks. It hurt you to see him take all this and you just couldn’t keep yourself quiet any longer

“You know,” You started “Jake’s really good at what he does best, even if it’s at soccer.” You gulped your nerves down as you continued. “If there’s something my parents never did was interfere in my future. They never once told me I should follow this or that, never. Because nothing was more important than them seeing me do something that makes me happy. If soccer is what he loves doing, then why not let him do that? I don’t know a thing about soccer or sports but if he’s known in almost every national university’s soccer team then he must be damn good at what he does. So why not support him in that? Even if it goes bad for him, which I must say I doubt, he’s going to graduate so there’s always a plan b. Have you ever considered your son’s happiness? I genuinely don’t intend to be disrespectful to you or your company, but is your business more important than your son? You have a son working in that field so why not make him take over it instead of Jake, who clearly doesn’t want to do it?”

You looked at Jake, seeing him look at you with tears pooling in his eyes, making your own eyes water. “Jake deserves nothing but to be happy. If you only could see how much he’s done then maybe you would love him a bit more.” You got up from your chair, the scraping sound made you slightly hiss. Jake understood what you were doing and did the same. “I’m so sorry about this, but I just can’t stand you seeing talk so low of your son. I hope you can reflect a little bit. Again, I’m sorry.” You turned to leave, Jake following behind you.

When the front door shut close, Jake instantly broke down, throwing himself in your embrace. His body shook with broken cries, making you screw your eyes shut as you tried to stop your tears. You held him tightly, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. “It’s alright now.” you said in a whisper, your hand coming up to tangle itself in his hair. When his cries died out Jake pulled out of your arms, looking at you. His hands cradled your face, as his eyes scanned your features. He smiled at you, making you mirror his expression. He leaned down as he pecked your lips and your hands came up to hold his that were holding your face. “I’m sorry for, you know, causing all that. I just couldn’t not do anything.” You said looking down. “Hey, don’t apologize. Thank you for that, really.” he said letting out a breath. “It’s better you saying that than me having another screaming match with my father.” He smiled sadly.

“I didn’t know you liked me that much, though.” He joked trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, c’mon Jake, seriously.” You said groaning at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He said laughing. “Y’know, I like you that much too.” You felt shy under his gaze, suddenly not able to look in his eyes. “Do you really?” You asked as you kicked tiny rocks on the floor. “Yes, silly. Of course I do…” Jake tensed “Even more than liking, actually.” You looked up at him when he said that, seeing him biting his lips nervously. “What?” You asked, surprised as you felt your heart race. “I- sorry I shouldn’t-” “Jake.” You cut him off, laughing at him. He stared at you wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed and his ears red.

You threw your arms over his shoulder, making a slight force to pull him closer. You smiled up at him. “I love you.” Jake almost choked in his own spit, not expecting to hear those words coming out of your mouth. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to say something. He took a deep breath and put his hands on your waist, suddenly feeling like he was in high school again, about to have his first kiss. He leaned in to kiss you, moving his head to the side to deepen it. Both of your lips moving on their own as you shared a passionate kiss. Jake pulled away before he could go further, his forehead resting against yours as he giggled, making you laugh at his behaviour. “I love you too princess.” He finally said, “So much.” He pecked your lips again, and again, and again until you pushed his chest as you laughed at him. He grinned at you, as he grabbed your hand in his. “Let’s go?” He asked and you nodded at him. You both got in the car, ready to go home as some soft tunes played from to radio.

Jake had been trying to make his house a home for a long time, but maybe home was where you were.

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tamberella · 9 months ago

Note

Congratulations on your author debut, I'm so excited for your book!! 😇💕

Would you consider talking about the whole process of becoming a book illustrator /children's book author?

Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!! And I'd be happy to share the process!

It all started for me with my 3dTotal artbook. 3dTotal is a small publisher in the UK, and they mainly focus on collections of artists' work. They use Kickstarter to fund each book, and my agent (the amazing Seth Fishman at Gernert) discovered me through the Kickstarter for my artbook Windows to Worlds!

He asked if I had any interest in working on graphic novels or picture books, and I had already been thinking about picture books! He found me my first picture book project with Penguin Workshop, Mother of Sharks, written by the awesome Melissa Cristina Márquez, which came out last year!

While I was working on Mother of Sharks, I was also talking with him about developing The Bakery Dragon, based of course on this painting, which was (and is) one of my proudest artistic moments.

For a little background on the painting, I painted it right after a really challenging couple of months medically - I was dealing with medical complications from my chronic illness for about 6 months, and I wasn't able to finish a single painting the whole time, I was just too exhausted from hospital visits and being in pain. That painting was the first piece I was able to actually complete (both emotionally and literally) in about half a year. So it always held a really special place in my heart, and I really wanted to keep living in that little world. I think there's something in it that is very special to me, about being outside in the cold, seeing warmth and love through a glass barrier, and wanting desperately to reach it.

With Seth's guidance, over a couple months, I developed a pitch for it. The script developed slowly alongside the designs for characters, locations, etc.

(Early version of Ember above! He has changed a bit!)

I thought I had already read a lot of picture books, I've always loved them, but I read hundreds and hundreds during this process. There is something uniquely fun and challenging about telling a complete narrative in 48 pages (which is already a long picture book, many are 32!) My book also pulls some elements from comics, such as speech bubbles, which I found to be incredible assets for humor and character development.

My pitch included designs, some early example spreads, and a rough script with story beats and jokes! My agent took it out into the world, and the publisher we ended up going forward with was Knopf, an imprint of Penguin Random House! I absolutely love the Knopf team and the beautiful books they put out! My editor, Katherine Harrison, really understood what I wanted to accomplish and has been so incredibly helpful in her guidance!

And from there... through rewrites, dialog adjustments, and lots and lots of drawings, it became a book! I'm happy to answer questions about the process! I'll leave you guys with a little preview from the interior of the book! (And of course you can pre-order it here, gotta learn the author skill of always including that link haha!)

#ask #book making process #author process

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twice-my-age-simp · 2 months ago

Text

You can't be with her!

KateBishopxFem!reader, WandaNatxDaughter!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff, smut, making out, strap-on, top!Kate

Summary: Your moms found out about your relationship with Kate and are not happy with it. They want to keep you safe, unintentionally hurting you while doing that.

Notes: Sorry for my long absence. Here's a new one shot for you. I think it's the longest work I've ever written so far. Enjoy reading this piece.

Word count: 5.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew you were in trouble. It was obvious. Especially after they broke into the house and you saw a very angry ex-assassin and a very pissed witch in the living room. But, let’s start from the beginning ‘cause what a story it is.

8 hours earlier

“No, there is no way.” your mom said firmly, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. You stood up from your chair and walked closer to her.

“Why? You can’t just do that.” you fighted back. You couldn’t believe this is happening and centrally won’t let it become the truth. You love your moms and you know they always try to do what’s best for you, but this time they were in the wrong.

“I can and I just did. You can’t see Kate anymore.” Nat said with a stern look, tightening her jaw. You turned from her to your other mom. “Mama, won’t you say anything?” you asked, a pleading look on your face.

Wanda, who was standing and listening to the conversation this whole time, walked closer to her wife. “Y/N, sweety, we’re just looking out for you.” she answered gently. You felt absolutely helpless, hurt and angry.

“You can’t make this decision for me. It’s my life and my relationship.” you spoked, hoping that they will change their minds.

“You are our daughter and still a child. It is as we say.” Nat added, not backing up. It’s hard to fight an assassin, even if it is not a physical fight. “Listen, we don’t want to be the bad guys here or make your life miserable. It’s just..” Nat signed. “Kate is an Avenger. This job is very dangerous and being with her can put you in life threatening danger. It’s already risky considering that you are our daughter.“

“I’m not a child anymore, I’m 21 years old. Nothing bad will happen to me. Please, I love her. Y-you can’t do that.” your eyes started to fill up with tears, your voice’s slowly breaking.

“I’m sorry, but that’s final.” Hearing that, you rushed to your room, locking yourself in it. You threw yourself on your bed and started crying.

Everything was good before. Your moms didn’t know about your relationship. You successfully kept it from them for a little over a year, always saying that you were going out with some friends. But of course, they had to walk in on you and Kate making out in the training room when you were visiting the Avengers in the compound, because they had some stuff to take care of. Nat immediately took you to the car. The drive home was silent, but when you got inside, they started saying that you needed to end things with Kate for “your own good”.

You picked up your phone, opened contacts and dialed the phone number. It was three rings after that the person answered. “Hi, Y/N.” said the angelic voice on the other side. It was all it took you to utter a sob, breaking down more from just hearing her. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with your moms finding out about us?” Kate asked with a concerned tone. You didn’t want to tell her about your fight because it would make it true and you couldn’t let that happen. However, Kate deserves to know. Maybe you can come up with a solution and everything will be great again. At least you hoped so.

“Kate-” you sobbed. “They want me to break up with you.” you cried out. Silence enveloped the room. You didn’t know if it was because she hung up or she was shocked. Pulling the phone from your ear, you looked at the screen; okay, she’s still there. “Kate? Please, say something.”

After a few seconds, you heard her say, you think she’s also crying. “I don’t know what to say.” she cleared her throat and added. “There’s nothing I can do? Maybe they can still change their mind?”

“I don’t think so.” You said. The truth is, if there was anything that would change this, you would already do it. Sad reality hit you. Your moms don’t want you to be with Kate. Then you wondered if it was even important to you. I mean, of course, you want them to approve of your relationship, but they don’t. They just don’t understand that she’s the love of your life. Your whole heart. Your everything. At that moment, you made up your mind. “You know what? I don’t care what they say; I want to be with you. I love you, Kate. ” you said, determined, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your moms are not gonna come in between your love life. You won’t let them.

“I love you too and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Are you sure, though? I mean, they are your moms. I don’t want your relationship with them to be destroyed because of me.” Kate said, her voice slowly quieting. You can’t help but feel your heart grow bigger with love for her if it is still even possible. She cares about you so much, you couldn’t be more sure about your decision.

“Yes, I want to be with you forever, Katie.” you said truthfully. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you too. What are we gonna do about your moms?” she asked.

“I don’t know, yet.” you said. You didn’t like to lie to your moms, but in this case, you feel like you have to. “Maybe we can meet up today? I can say that I need to go for a walk to clear my mind or something. You can park your car a few streets away.” you said hopefully. “Sure, be there in an hour.” With that, you ended the call.

Kate will be here in an hour, so you intend to spend this time on getting ready. You had to wear something not too fancy for a walk but not too ugly for a hangout with your girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, after all this time you’ve been together, you still can’t believe you get to call her that. It makes your heart flutter every time.

After some time of thinking about what to wear and getting mentally ready to lie to your moms, you were ready to leave. Walking down the stairs, you opt to look upset, but without it looking weird. You know it is hard to lie to a witch and an ex-assassin.

You slowly made your way to put on some shoes when someone called from behind. “And where are you going, young lady?” You turned to see Nat with her arms crossed. “I hope it isn’t the girl I clearly said is dangerous for you to hang out with.” She said sternly.

That got your blood boiling. “If you want to know, I’m going for a walk to clear my head, because my mother said I can’t be with the love of my life!” You shouted, tears started to well up again. Nat stood a little shocked at the outburst but quickly recovered. “Quit the tone; you know I do this for your safety. I just want to protect you.” She said the last part a little softer.

“Whatever.” You said and walked out of the house, shutting the door.

You turned left and started going down the street; hopefully Kate is already there. As you walk, you make yourself slightly more presentable, fixing the hair and wiping the tears that once again started to flow because of the encounter with your mom. Turning left, you see Kate’s car parked on the side of the road. Smiling, you increased your speed and got into the car.

“Hi-” Kate didn’t manage to greet you because you immediately pulled her by her shirt into a long, passionate kiss. Your fist, full of the fabric, pulled Kate closer. Her hands flew to grip the back of your neck. Both missed the physical contact. Your lips, made to fit like two pieces, were moving against each other, stealing breath. Your lungs started to feel like they were on fire, but that didn't stop you from giving yourself to Kate in that kiss.

After a few minutes, you pull away from the kiss but still keep close to Kate. Your hand full of her shirt slightly loosens, yet the grip is still there. “Sorry, I just really missed you.” You said, looking down flustered. Finally, your eyes moved up, looking deeply into hers. “Hi.” you added after a moment of silence.

Kate smiled at you. “Hi.” She replied, giggling breathlessly. “I missed you too. So much.”

It’s so stupid how her smile and the little glint in her eyes can make you all giggly and weak in knees. You know you loved her to the moon and back, you can’t give up on your relationship just because your moms tell you to, not when everything in you is screaming that Kate is the endgame, your endgame.

“Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?” you felt Kate's hands on your face, thumbs wiping your cheeks. You didn't realize that you were crying. Every emotion's built up in you, and right when you saw her, you just had to let it all go. “It's just, I don't want to be away from you. I love you so much and I'm sick of this sneaking out, or my moms telling me that I can’t be with you.” you sniffled, looking into her eyes. “God, you are everything I want. I want to be with you forever. When I think about my future, I see you and me, and I don’t care what our lives will look like as long as we are together; that's everything I want.” You really poured your heart out there. It’s not typical for you to be this vulnerable in front of Kate—actually in front of anyone; you’ve always kept everything to yourself.

Now that you think of it, you think you might have scared Kate. She’s silent, just staring at you, hands still on your face. You think you blew it, that it was too much for her. After all, you’ve been dating for only a little over a year. Thoughts started to flood your mind, creating the worst scenarios and just when you were about to apologize-

“Marry me.” Kate said, her face not showing any emotions. You were speechless; did you hear it right? Kate asked you to marry her? Well, it wasn’t really a question, more like as if she just admitted to herself that she wants to marry you. Nonetheless, there is still a part of you that believes that you heard it wrong. “What?” You breathed out, your eyes searching for reassurance in hers.

“Marry me.” She repeated more confidently this time as if coming back to life. “I’m serious. I know that we haven’t been dating for long, but I also want to be with you forever. I love you and I don’t want to be with anyone else; you are the only one for me. I want everything with you, I want you. This won’t be easy, but that’s great. Easy is boring.” you both giggled at that. “This is reckless and not normal at all, but let’s just be for real. We are reckless and nothing in our lives is normal, I mean, your moms are a witch and an ex-assassin and I am an Avenger. Nothing ever was normal and nothing will be, and frankly, I love it this way.” Kate ended her heartwarming speech with a big smile on her face, tears now also in her eyes. “So, Y/N Romanoff, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You said matching her smile. “Of course I will marry you.” Pulling the shirt you still had a grip on, you pull Kate into a slow kiss, filled with salty tears. You think you’ve never been so sure about anything in your life. Honestly, that’s all you ever wanted, to marry the love of your life and that is marrying Kate Bishop.

“Good, cause I thought for a second that I went too far.” Kate started to ramble after pulling away. You thought that the best way to stop her from that was to kiss her again. It didn’t last long though, because after a few seconds she pulled back again. She turned so she’s sitting straight, her back to the seat, and started to wave her hands around. “Oh my, I need to buy a ring. God! I’m so unprepared!” You tried to stop her by calling her name, but that didn’t really work.

“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop!” Using her full name did work. She stopped immediately and looked at you. You giggled at her. “You need to stop worrying about that. I want to marry you, not the ring. I don’t need any rings, just you, okay?” Kate looked at you as if looking for clarification, then she cutely tilted her head and pouted and that just made you want to kiss her.

“I know, but I really want to get you a ring. You deserve that, you deserve a big proposal with-with rose petals, a nice dinner and a big diamond ring, not this. A girl who proposes in her car without even a paper ring.” She started having doubts about herself; you could see that. “I love that girl. I don’t need some rich and stuck-up proposal. I couldn’t have imagined it better than this.” You made sure she was looking at you as you said that to her. That was the truth, so you wanted her to believe you.

“Okay.. okay.” Kate clears her throat, then adds. “So, shall we go and get married now?” you both smiled at each other. Reaching for seat belts in order to fasten them, you answered. “Yes, we shall.”

It turned out it wasn’t that easy. You had to have witnesses. After some thinking, you reached out to Aunt Yelena, while Kate called Clint. Although it took some convincing to get the old man to drive here because, as he said, he doesn’t want to ‘deal with angry mothers anymore’, whatever that means, he might have been referring to Laura, but you’re not sure; you also think that he really just didn’t want to move his three letters.

Well, eventually, he agreed. Yelena didn’t need this much convincing; well, she didn’t need to be convinced at all. She said she’d be happy to piss off her sister; she mentioned something about getting back at her for borrowing, without her knowing, one of her vests and then destroying it on a mission, but you could have misheard.

Kate got anxious again, but this time about clothing. Both of you wore casual clothes, not right for a marriage. So that’s how you got dragged by Kate for a little shopping. It took you both a while, but in Kate's eyes it was worth it, because now you and her looked good.

It wasn’t long before you and Kate signed up the marriage license with Clint and Yelena next to you, and you were good to go. You bit your goodbyes with them, then made your way to Kate’s car. While you were both sitting, the car still not turned on, you realized what just happened. ”We just got married.” Kate stated firmly, her face not showing any emotions while looking straight ahead. You turned your head to look at her. ”We just got married.” She repeated, now with a big smile on her face. Also turning her head to you, she started to giggle. Hearing her laughter, you started to giggle yourself, also not believing that this is real.

Kate leaned in and brought her hand to the back of your neck to pull your foreheads together. ”You are my wife.” She said breathlessly. ”I am your wife.” You said in the same tone. Your wife pulled you into a long, passionate kiss. ”Damn, your moms are really gonna kill me now” Kate said after pulling away. This caused you both to burst out laughing. “Well, if this is my last hour, how about we make the best of it and go back to mine, my wife?“ She asked with a smirk on her face, clearly insinuating on doing something really not PG. Your cheeks turned slightly red, but you matched her smirk. “Lead the way, my wife.”

You’re sure that your superhero broke a few laws driving you to her apartment. Both of you are very eager and excited for what awaits you there. So as soon as the door was closed, Kate pushed you into it, trapping you between the wooden surface and her. Hands flying to your hips, squeezing and pushing more against the hardwood. Lips mingling with yours fastily, tongue pushing into your mouth, exploring the inside. Next thing you know, she was tagging at your pants, trying to take them off. Once you’re free from them, Kate’s hands traveled from your hips, over your ass, stopping on it for a second to squeeze, and then went downwards to the back of your thighs. With one swift movement, you were pulled from the door for a second, only to be pushed against it again, but this time with your legs around Kate’s waist.

Her kisses moved from your lips to nip at your neck, for sure, leaving lots of hickeys. You leaned your head back, revealing more skin on your neck. The particular bite on your pulse point made you moan. Your hands flew to her hair in order to pull her closer. With a mind full of thoughts about Kate, you breathlessly conhered some words. “B-bedroom… now.” you gasped when suddenly Kate pulled you both away from the door and started to blindly walk towards the bedroom. While you were stumbling across the living room, you threw your bag on the table, or at least you hoped it landed on the table, not caring about stuff inside. Though you’re pretty sure that your bag opened from the impact.

After some struggling, your back hit the bed with Kate on top of you. Lips once again connected, Kate started grinding her hips on yours. Suddenly, you felt it—the hardness underneath her pants. “Is-is that-?” You stuttered, then moaned because Kate pressed herself harder on you, so you feel it against your core.

“Mhm, a new one.” Kate smirked at you and again pushed her hips into yours, making you gasp. She leaned down to your neck and started to mark you everywhere she could. When she got to your pulse point, you moaned and gripped the back of her head, burying your fingers into her hair, pulling her closer. You feel hands tagging at your shirt. With your arms up, Kate swiftly takes off your shirt, leaving you in only your panties and bra. However, it doesn’t take long for her to also remove these undergarments. “So pretty.. so delicious, just for me to taste.” Kate’s hands started to wander.

Wanting to see more of Kate, you unbuttoned her shirt, slid it down her arms and then the shirt joined the rest of the clothes on the ground in the bedroom. Your hands immediately flew to her arms to feel her strong muscles. Then, to her abdomen, where she clearly has abs. “One of many perks of being an Avenger; lots of training that makes you have these muscles.” You stare in awe, biting your lip.

Kate leaned down again and nipped at your skin, making her path from your neck to your chest. She took your left nipple in her mouth, sucking on it hard, while her other hand squeezed the right breast. After some time, she switched the breasts and started sucking on the right one. ”Please, Kate… I want you.. now.” you pleaded.

Not wanting to tease you, just this night, Kate pulled away and took off the rest of her clothes, revealing the strap-on. “Purple?” You chuckle a little.

“What? I look good in purple.” Kate grinned and once again got on top of you. The strap was rubbing against your clit, making you shut your eyes and groan softly. “You want my cock, sweetheart?” Kate asked, rubbing her strap even harder.

“Yes! Please, Kate, I want your cock. Please fuck me.” You desperately rumble, your mind full of thoughts of how she can ruin you. This strap is definitely bigger than what you were used to, but you are willing to try this, considering how wet you are for her.

Kate leaned to your ear to whisper. “As you wish, babygirl.” Right after that, she harshly pushed at least a half of the strap in your pussy. Your moans and grunts get louder as she continues to slide in. “Fuck, baby. Always so tight for me.” You shut your eyes tightly as you feel more and more fuller with every second.

Finally, your hips were flush against each other. Your breath is more ragged as you try to get used to the fullness. “Kate… s-so full, fuck, so big” you moaned. After a few more seconds, Kate started to pull out and thrust her hips forward, causing you to let out a loud scream.

Your moans only encouraged Kate to keep going. The thrusts were much harder now; it made your head spin. You wrapped your arms around her back, burying your nails into it. Kate hissed into your ear from the harsh scratches, but it fuelled her to give you more. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slapping of your hips with every thrust. “Kate- shit… I’m going to-” you are cut off by a hoarse groan that bursts out of your throat when Kate hits one particular place.

“It’s okay. Let go for me, baby.” Kate said breathlessly. That was all you needed, and soon your eyes rolled back. You arched your back into her, threw your head back and let out a silent scream. Kate was still thrusting into you as you were falling over the edge.

After you calmed down, she slowly pulled out of you. You groaned at the emptiness as you were trying to catch your breath. Kate was peppering your body with soft kisses. When she got up to your face, you smiled at each other. “That- that was incredible.” you said panting. “Glad you liked it, my love.” she pecked your lips. With a swift move, you turned you both over, so Kate was now on her back with you on top of her. “Let me return the favor.” you grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

*****

You were lying on the bed with your head on Kate’s chest. Your arm around her abdomen, leg between hers. Kate has her arm wrapped around your bare body. The covers were loosely thrown on both of you as you were lying together in your own, quiet bubble.

“You know… I was thinking..” Kate started. You turned your head to look at her and wait for her to continue. “Since we are married now” this made you smile. You still can’t believe that this is real and that Kate is your wife now. “Maybe, if you want… you could move in with me.” your eyes widen at her words. A smile spread across your face. You lifted slightly from the bed to move closer to her and give her a passionate kiss in which you couldn’t stop smiling. The same goes for Kate.

When you pulled out, you looked her in the eyes. “Of course I want to move in with you!” you both had such big smiles on your faces that your cheeks started to ache. “Great! I was scared for a second that you wouldn’t want that. What will you tell your moms, though? Maybe you should-” as Kate continued to rumble, your heart stopped. Shit. Your moms, they don’t know anything, AND you said you were going for a walk, which is now about six hours long. Shit, shit. Your phone has been on silent since you went to get married. They probably called you and texted you a million times.

“Shit, my moms! They have to wonder where I am!” you said cutting her off and quickly got out of bed, panicking. You throw on yourself one of Kate’s hoodies, put on your panties and some Kate’s shorts. At the corner of your eye, you see that Kate also got up and started to get dressed. You left the bedroom and headed towards the living room, where you left your phone in the bag. Just as you walked into the living room space, your heart stopped at the sight.

So, now you know the story behind why an angry witch and a pissed-off ex-assassin broke into the apartment and were standing in the living room. They had their hands on their hips, with scowls on the faces. “Mom, mama-” You were immediately caught off. “Don’t mamas us!” Wanda scoffed. She rarely got angry, she preferred to do things the calm way. However, when she did get angry, oh boy, hide if you can.

They had every right to be angry and you knew it. So you chose to stay silent this time. “Do you want to explain where you’ve been?” Nat asked with her jaw locked tight. “And why, when I called Clint to ask if he knew something about your whereabouts, he said that he doesn’t want to get involved anymore?” this time Wanda spoke. “Or why, when I called Yelena to ask if she knew something, she just laughed and hung up?” Natasha added. It was as if they talked it through, because they were literally changing after one sentence. It was creepy. “You lied to us, went radio silent and met up with the one person we specifically told you not to see!”

The person, as if on cue, came into the living room and stopped dead in tracks. “Mrs. Romanoff and..” Kate cleared her throat “Mrs. Romanoff.” She stood right next to you, her eyes locked on anything but your moms. The thick tension could be cut with a knife. You didn’t know what they would do now, with Kate next to you.

“And here’s the person in the flesh.” stated firmly Natasha, her eyes shooting daggers at Kate. “Mom, please.” you pleaded. You didn’t want this place to turn into a war zone. “Please what? Y/N, we've forbidden you from seeing her and the next thing you did after that was see her! You don-”

“What is that?” Wanda stopped Natasha from further shouting at you as she noticed something. You turned your head where she was looking, and your face turned pale. Wands was looking at the coffee table where you had thrown your bag earlier. The bag opened from the impact and some things fell out of it on the table. One of the things was your and Kate's marriage license. Your heart stuck in your throat as Wanda walked closer to it. She reached for the paper, picked it up and for a moment there was silence. But only for a short moment.

“You got married?!” Wanda shouted, turning to face you and Kate. Now she was really, really angry. Like the kind of angry when she has her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed so that they are almost touching, and the worst, the little tilt in her head. Now you were fucked. “You what?!” this time Natasha shouted.

“I-... we just..” you wanted to say something, but didn't know what. What do you say in a situation like that, though? It was tough, but fortunately Kate noticed that you were struggling and decided to speak for you. She reached her hand to yours and interlaced your fingers together. Kate cleared her throat, mentally preparing herself for anything that could happen after she spoke. “We did. We got married today.” you didn't think that was possible, but silence was never this loud.

“Why would you do that? And without any of us knowing” Wanda spoke angrily as she handed the married license to Nat.

Natasha read the license, still not believing what she just heard. Her eyes stopped at one point. “Bishop? You changed your last name to Bishop?” Natasha asked in disbelief, interrupting Wanda. “Yeah…” you said, unsure, waiting for the explosion from your parents.

However, there is something else on their faces. Hurt? Disappointment? Sadness? You couldn't tell, but you knew you didn't like it. “Mom, mama, please don't look at me like that.” you said sadly, there is a stone in your heart. “I've never wanted to get married without you there, but I also didn’t want to marry anyone but Kate. And you specifically told me that I can't be with her… I just.. I couldn't let that happen. I just want you to be happy for me.” you reasoned, tears once again pricking in your eyes. You felt Kate's hand smoothing your back, which calmed you a little.

“Mrs. Romanoffs, I really love your daughter. You care about her safety as much as I do. I promise to keep her safe and sound.” Kate calmly said, meaning every word.

Wanda and Nat looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Soon, they turned back to face you and Kate. “Oh God..” Nat groaned, letting out a breath. “Y/N, darling, we didn't want you to feel like that; we just…” she didn't really know how to say it, so Wanda took the wheel. “We just love you so much, we want to keep you safe. However, I admit that we did go a little too far. We shouldn't get between you and Kate.” she says. Your eyes lit up a little, a small smile started to spread on your face. “Does that mean..?” you asked, still not sure you understood what they just said. “Yes, you can see Kate.”

Now you have the biggest smile on your face. You jumped up and down and then pulled your mothers in a hug, squeezing in happiness. Your moms laughed a little and hugged you back. “We love you, darling, and we are happy for you.”

“Thank you. I love you both, very much.” you grinned and pulled away from the hug. You go back to stand next to Kate, whose smile is as big as yours, and interlace your fingers.

“However,” Natasha turned to Kate with a stoic expression. “If you hurt her, I will hunt you down.” Kate started to feel a little nervous again, but tried not to show it. “Of course, I-I would never hurt her; I love her.” she rumbled quickly.

Soon, Wanda and Nat left the apartment, saying that today they will leave you and Kate alone, but tomorrow they want you both at home for dinner.

You went back to bed, lying next to each other. Both of you fell asleep in a loving embrace.

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #yelena belova #clint barton #imagine #one shot #hailee steinfeld #elizabeth olsen #scarlett johansson

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techwrecker · 3 months ago

Note

platonic Logan howlett x kid reader where Logan takes the kid under his wing because the reader didn’t have like, parents anymore???

Intentions (Mutations)

Summary: After living on the streets for years, Logan takes it upon himself to make sure you're taken care of after your mutation develops.

Genre: Fluff?, light angst?

Tags: SFW platonic!logan, gn!kid!reader, not really fluff but not really angst, logan goes dad mode again

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: N/A (please let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: Thank you for sending in the ask! I hope you enjoy what I have! This is the longest piece I've written yet. Please keep in mind, that I jumbled the already incoherent timeline a little bit- I hope that's okay! Let me know if there are any grammar/spelling errors please. as always, reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

AO3//Taglist Sign-up

Other: dividers by @moosgraphics & @bunnysrph (tysm!)

The man standing at the mouth of the alley wasn't the usual kind of grungy, scoundrel that you were used to seeing. He was wearing a slick leather jacket over a pristine, white undershirt. His facial hair was well-kept and stylized unlike the scraggly, long beards that most around here men touted. His hair was seemingly done with a little tuft sticking out atop either side of his head. He could have just had bedhead or hat-hair, but they were too pointed to not be intentional. Ever since you were a kid, your intuition had never led you astray.

'''D'jya hear me, kid? I asked what the hell are y'doin' out in the cold all alone for." His voice was rocky and gruff, but it wasn't slurred or subdued by the weight of yellowed alcohol. You were surprised he even spotted you, huddled up against the frozen dumpster in the alley.

"Got nowhere else to go." You shrugged, attempting to retain the illusion of being unconcerned despite the wicked chill seeping beneath your layers. It wouldn't be long until the bite of winter dug its way deep into your body, carving you out and rattling your bones.

Living on the streets alone wasn't easy, especially in the winter. It had been about three years since your parents disappeared. You were yet but a tender 11 years old. At first, it was nice not having anyone around to make you get up early and go to school. But the days turned to weeks. Crying yourself to sleep night after night snuggled in deep between the fluffy pillows and lifeless covers of your parents' bed became your routine.

Eventually, the police came around after negligence reports by the school. You knew if you stayed alone any longer, you'd be taken away by force, sent off to live with strangers. Something in your stomach made it turn, telling you to run away. That bad things would happen if you stuck around. So, you packed up what your tiny frame could carry and struck out on your own, leaving the only home you had ever known.

"C'mere." He beckoned you out of the shadow with one hand and stuck it back in his jacket pocket. "Y'r gonna freeze if you stay out here any longer."

Under normal circumstances, letting strange men call you towards them late at night was a death wish, but there was something deep in your gut that told you it was safe to trust him. Besides, anywhere had to be better than in an odorous alley behind a slimy bar.

You shuffled to your feet, gripping the threadbare blanket tighter around your shoulders. You were just about to outgrow it. The ragged edge barely touched the tops of your feet anymore. Despite the trusting feeling that had wedged itself in your mind, you kept one eye on the man as you hoisted your grimy backpack onto your shoulder.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, y’know," you said, cautiously getting closer to him.

"Yeah, well, you're also not supposed to be outside when it's 20 below."

You were now within arms reach of him. He lifted his arm out of his pocket, toward you. Instinctually, you flinched, using the backpack as a shield to cover you from any contact he might attempt.

"Relax, 'm not gonna hurt ya." He lifted his hand back in a surrendered position. "Just wanted to carry y'r pack for ya is all."

You peeked back around at him. Gingerly, you slid the backpack off your blanketed arm. You extended it to him, grip still secure on the strap. The man grabbed the other strap, but you didn't let go.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why’re you helping me?"

"'Cause I’mma bleedin' heart for the youth a tha nation, that's why," he retorted sarcastically.

You tugged the pack slightly back towards your chest. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. Letting go of the strap, he stuffed both hands back into his pockets.

"Listen kid, y' remind me of someone 's all. I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of." He shrugged.

You stared at him silently, assessing him. Delicate flurries of snow started to fall from the sky. They nestled gently on the tips of his tufts creating a light blanket. The icy fluff reflected in the harsh streetlamp, mimicking a halo. You looked into his eyes. There was a genuine sincerity in them. That trusting feeling was pulling at your conscience again.

“‘Kay… but I’m watching you, old man.”

It wasn’t a joke, but he gave a little chuckle and shook his head, amused. He mumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite make out. Something about ‘christ’ and ‘regrets’.

“Whatever y’say, bub. You’re the boss here.” He started walking off down the street, expecting you to follow suit. You shrugged the heavy bag back onto your shoulder and started after him, slightly trailing behind him, just beyond his reach.

“So what’s your name?” You asked.

“Logan,” he said simply, not even bothering to look behind his shoulder.

Logan. It was a surprisingly mundane name. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Just Logan?” If you were going to let the stranger lead you to an even stranger location, you should at least know his full name to give the police if things went south.

“Yeah. Kid, I don’t got all night. Get a move on.” He sounded annoyed.

But it was his fault you were tagging along in the first place, you thought. Whatever.

You picked up the pace in a light trot to catch up with him, careful not to slide on the now-slick sidewalk. You were walking side-by-side with him now, but using up twice the effort to stay in step. Logan was tall, taking long strides to get to the unknown destination quickly.

As you walked, you admired the frosty blanket beginning to layer the frozen city. Pale drifts of snow piling in corners glittered under bright street lamps, reflection shifting with every step. It may have been freezing, but even you had to admit, the untouched, pure snow was beautiful. The street was a silent beauty.

“So who is it?” You probed carefully.

“Hm? Who?”

“The person I remind you of. Who is it?”

“Oh, uh,” he started. “Her name’s Laura.” His voice softened at her name.

“Laura. Pretty. Is she your daughter?” Your intuition prompted you to ask.

“Yeah,” he replied shortly. Apparently, he was a man of few words. He let his head hang for a moment, watching his feet drag through the graying slurry. You watched as he inhaled sharply and lifted his head back up, staring straight ahead stoically, not paying you any mind.

The rest of the trip was made in freezing silence. You were still at his side, but slightly out of his arm’s reach. He was still a stranger, after all. It turned out his apartment building was only a few blocks from where you had been hunkered down.

His keys jangled as he pulled them out of his pocket. The lock clicked open with a solid thunk. Warm, yellow light spilled out from the doorway onto the concrete steps and frozen metal railing. Logan gestured with his arm, prompting you to step in first. You didn’t like it when people stood where you couldn’t see them, but the comforting glow of the apartment was beckoning you in. He stepped through the threshold after you and shook out the snow that had nestled in his tufts of hair. They were starting to droop slightly as the snow melted in the warmth of his home.

He slipped his arms from his jacket and tossed it on a nearby table. You took in the space he called home. It was obvious that he lived here alone, a bachelor. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the plaid couch in the corner of the living room. Much like your blanket, it was becoming threadbare with pieces of stuffing starting to poke out from the arm rests. It was calling your weary, frozen name. You tore your eyes away to put together the rest of the space. A worn-in recliner propped toward a small television set, a coffee table covered in various newspapers, a few amber beer bottles and crushed aluminum cans. The space wasn’t grimy, just a little cluttered.

“Are y’hungry?” He was walking away, further into his home, toward the kitchen. You stood there, unmoving. It had been about three years since you had set foot in a nice, proper home. You were almost brought to tears.

“Yeah. Always.”

Logan gave you a small smile and began pulling out ingredients.

You walked toward the kitchen, keeping your snow-crusted boots on and still bundled by your blanket and backpack. Though Logan’s home was exceptionally warmer than outside, the chill of the snow had taken root in your chest and had spread its way through your appendages. It would take you a while yet to thaw.

“How d’ya feel about grilled cheese?” The skillet was already warming on the stovetop and Logan had begun spreading butter across the two pieces of bread. Your mouth watered at the sight. The familiar pang of hunger ripped through your stomach. You almost wanted to tell him to nix the stove altogether so you could eat as soon as possible.

“I feel excellent about grilled cheese,” you said instead, gently tugging on one of the chairs at the small dining table. You sat cautiously on the edge of the seat. There were deep scratches gouged across the wooden tabletop. This was not typical wear and tear.

What on earth could have caused that? You wondered. Upon seeing the scratches, your over-active intuition strangely made you feel more at home. Apparently, there was more to this Logan guy than meets the eye.

He peeked at you from his peripheral vision, gauging your reaction to the gouges. You gave him a shrug.

“Accidents happen,” you said, making yourself sink further back into the chair. You played it off as if the scratches were only a water ring made by an overly condensated glass sans coaster. Overcome with exhaustion and finally warming up, you decided to let yourself relax a little.

He smiled, like you had stumbled upon an inside joke he held only with himself. Though mostly humorous, the smile held a dash of contempt inside it.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Not knowing what else to say, you took in the rest of the apartment. The windows were covered with yellowing slatted blinds, chips and cracks scattered throughout. The checkered linoleum floor probably hadn’t seen a mop for months. You couldn’t judge him too harshly though. In fact, you weren’t in a place to judge him at all. He led you off the street with pure intentions and into a warm home.

The delicious smell emanating from the stove curled its way to you, tugging at your already-growling stomach. Logan reached into the skillet and flipped the sandwich with his bare hand. It was not a delicate pinch at the corners and he didn’t even wince or make any indication that the sandwich was hot at all. Strange.

“How’d you do that?” Your curiosity got the better of you.

“Magic.”

“Magic isn’t real. C’mon, tell me how you did it,” you begged.

“How ‘bout this,” he started. “Let’s make a deal. You ask a question, I ask a question. A trade off.”

You weighed the pros and cons. If the only exchange for satiating your curiosity was him prying into your own life, you came to the conclusion that it would be worth it.

You realized you were desperate for somebody to want to care about you. All you had known for the past few years was solidarity and seclusion. You had been in a constant state of fight or flight mode ever since running away from your parentless home. You just wanted somebody to want to look after you again.

“Okay, deal.”

“Great. I’ll start.” He set the plated sandwich down in front of you and took the other chair at the table. It creaked as he sat, as if it were straining every splinter to carry his weight. He certainly had a sturdy frame, but he was not by any means a big man. Strange again.

“Thanks,” you finished. It came out flatly, but you were genuinely grateful.

“Y’r welcome, kid.”

Careful so as not to scarf it down too quickly, you held the golden, crispy sandwich delicately between your dirty fingers, pulling it apart. The hot, gooey insides webbed between the pieces. Logan watched you take the first bite, letting you savor the first real meal you’d had in who knows how long before he asked his first question. It was cheesy, savory bliss. You could have cried, it was so tasty. It trailed warmth down your torso as you ate, taking bigger and faster bites. Before you knew it, you were licking your greasy fingers clean.

“Want another?” Logan asked.

“Yes please.” You were still starving. “Does that count as your question?”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Does that count as yours?”

“Guess not.” You smiled back at him, sheepishly.

He took out two more pieces of bread and began on sandwich number two. You could tell he had done this before, taking care of young kids. He had a paternal instinct and it showed. He was slightly standoffish, but not so much that it was completely awkward. There was no ulterior motive behind his actions, you felt he just truly wanted to take care of you.

“‘Alright, bub. Why are y’on the street?”

You knew this question was coming, and yet your heart still skipped a beat, soaked with anxiety.

“I sort of ran away, but it’s not what you think.” You paused, seeing if he would interject. He didn’t make an attempt, so you continued. “I didn’t run away because I wanted to. I ran away because I had to. My parents disappeared and the police started coming around and I didn’t want to-”

“Hold on,” he cut you off. “Your parents disappeared and your bright idea was to run away? That’s probably the stupidest thing you coulda done.”

Embarrassment and annoyance prickled your cheeks. Logan was still a stranger to you, but you felt oddly compelled to defend your actions, to make him see your side.

“Yeah, well it’s better than being an orphan and forced into foster care. Placed with a family who couldn’t care less about you than the dirt on the ground!” You shot back.

The apartment was suddenly more than warm enough. It was almost sweltering. You twisted your shoulder out from under the strap of the backpack and shrugged off the blanket, letting it fall behind you. You felt a little dizzy as your heart pounded, loud against your chest. You were already weak from scraping together food all the time. Burning sweat began to bead against your hairline and coat your palms.

Logan turned his back to you, facing the stove. “Still seems stupid t’me. How long’ve ya been livin’ like this?” His voice was muffled, like cotton balls had been shoved in your ears.

Suddenly, a chorus of pounding, pulsing sounds arose and started to drown out everything else. It surged to such a volume, you instinctually pressed your hands against your ears in an attempt to dampen it. It did nothing. The noise was inside your head. There was no stopping it. Your vision started to blur and you blinked hard, trying to rid the fuzz and dizziness with no avail. You opened your mouth to yell and felt the muscles in your throat move, but you couldn’t tell if any sound escaped. Your conscience was slipping, but the grip of the noise wouldn’t let you go. It was only getting louder, more painful.

You must have made some kind of sound because a fuzzy, Logan-shaped form was moving toward you, seemingly in slow motion. You were slipping out of the seat in pain. He caught you in his muscled arms, right before your head hit the ground. He was yelling something at you, but you couldn’t make out what it was. His lips were moving desperately, his eyes frightened.

Logan was the last thing you saw before your mind surrendered to the stress of the noise, finally descending into unconsciousness.

Your eyes tried to open, fluttering against the bright, white lights on the ceiling. It was too bright to open them fully, but you adjusted fairly quickly. The room was made of sleek metal with a circular door on the opposite wall. It wasn’t a hospital, but it had the feeling of one. It was more unfamiliar and eerily quiet aside from a monitor’s steady beeping. The bed you were laying in looked like it came straight out of an exam room. You looked down at yourself. A tube was sticking out of the crook of your elbow, drips of a translucent liquid sliding into your veins.

The pounding noise in your head had ebbed to a dull ache instead of the throbbing pulse it was before. How much time had passed between Logan’s kitchen and now? Where was he? Had he just abandoned you in this strange room by yourself? You felt your heartbeat quicken in anxiety and as it did, the ache grew stronger. There must be a connection between the two. You had so many questions and nobody was around to answer them.

Just as you were about to start freaking out, the round door opened with a swoosh, the panels disappearing into either side of the wall. You sat up, startled. An older bald man in a wheelchair, a smartly-dressed woman with deep red hair, and the slightly-more-familiar Logan came into the room. The pounding noise and your heartbeat slowed back to normal at the sight of him, but three more louder, of sync beats took its place. The noise got louder as they got closer. Wincing, you wanted to cover your ears, to prepare for the worst. You didn’t want to pass out again or have to endure the painful drumming against your head.

“Ah, welcome back to the world of the conscious,” the bald man said, getting closer to you. His physical voice could barely be heard above the noise, but it somehow reverberated in your mind. “You gave our Logan quite a scare. That is a very difficult thing to do.” There was a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

You looked to Logan. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, still in the same outfit you last saw him in. Dark denim, white undershirt, boots. Maybe hardly any time had passed at all.

“Thanks… what happened?” You asked the trio. Your voice was hoarse from sleep. You couldn’t tell how loud, or quiet, you were being.

The woman reached over to the side table and poured a glass of water for you. Her face was beautiful and kind. She smiled sweetly at you. You took the cool glass from her and let the water soothe your throat.

“Your mutation began to manifest and you passed out,” she explained. Her lips were moving, but like the man, her voice echoed in your head, quieting the thrumming in your ears. “We aren’t quite sure what power your mutation will present itself as yet, but whatever it is, we’re here to help you.”

You looked from her to Logan, confused. The slight scowl on his face wasn’t encouraging.

“Where am I?”

“My dear, you are at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. I am Professor Charles Xavier and this is Jean Grey. Logan very wisely brought you here last night,” the man in the wheelchair said. “To our lab.”

Your eyes flickered between the strangers. The familiar feeling crept back into your gut. Your intuition told you he was telling the truth.

“If you’ll let me,” he continued with a soft smile. “I would like to utilize my mutation for your benefit. Jean and I are telepaths. I can enter your mind which might help us deduce what exactly your mutation is.”

No wonder you could hear their voices echoing in your head over the clashing, thrumming rhythms. They were projecting them into your mind.

You must have looked uneasy, because Jean placed a hand on your gown-covered shoulder, attempting to reassure you.

“It doesn’t hurt, but you will feel his presence in your mind. We just want to help you,” she said.

Again, you looked to Logan, anxious for his reassurance. Upon catching your eyes, his expression softened and he nodded slightly, giving you the go-ahead to let them help you.

You fiddled with the top sheet, nervous. It crinkled under your touch. Only hours ago you had been trying to survive the freezing temperatures alone in the dark.

They were all looking at you, expectantly. Without Jean or the Professor in your mind, the volume of the beats returned, still discordant with one another.

“Okay,” you agreed, meekly. You did not want a repeat of what happened last night. The pain was too much to bear again.

You watched the Professor close his eyes. He knit his brows together, slightly, in concentration. There was a mental push in your mind, like somebody was knocking on the door, asking to be let in. You obliged. As he began combing through the files of your brain, searching for answers to whatever your new-found ‘mutation’ might hold, you noticed one of the rhythms sped up a hair quicker. Logan’s scowl returned, eyes laced with concern.

Jean was right, it didn’t hurt, but it did feel a bit like an intrusion. However, you knew it was all for your benefit and would be for the best in the long run. You kept your eyes on Charles Xavier the entire time, hoping your own concentration on him would be helpful in some way. After a few, long, minutes, the Professor retreated from your mind and opened his eyes again.

“Well, my dear, it seems you have a mental ability as well,” he began. “You have the ability to hear heartbeats that are in close proximity to yourself, and in turn deduce the intentions of another person.”

“That’s what the pounding is? Heartbeats?”

“You can hear all three of ours currently, correct?” he asked.

“Yes.” For some reason, it felt like you were violating their privacy. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and your hands returned to folding the sheets between your fingers.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, you know. You’re special. Like us,” Jean said, smiling gently. She grabbed a metal clipboard with complicated-looking charts attached to it, flipping over the pages until she found the form she was looking for. She took the pen from behind her ear and jotted something down. You assumed it was a description of your ‘mutation’, or ‘power’, or whatever they call it.

“Why is this happening to me?” You asked quietly into the air, to nobody in particular. Your eyes were still trained on your nervous fingers. The burning in your face grew stronger, an angry red. Hot tears stung your waterline and the tip of your nose prickled with emotion.

Logan unfolded his arms, causing you to watch him through tear-filled vision cross the room and sit on the edge of your unfamiliar bed. His heartbeat grew louder as he got closer. You could see his lips moving, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He looked at you expectantly, but all you could do was look at the Professor, silently asking for help. You watched him say something to Logan, probably telling him you couldn’t hear anything over the constant noise in your mind. The Professor closed his eyes again and again, the rhythms quieted to a hush. You looked back to Logan, the Professor still concentrating.

“You’re a mutant, kid. Simple as that,” he said, eyes full of tender but resolved concern. “But ‘m gonna take care of ya. Make sure y’r comfortable here.”

“H-here?” Your teary eyes went wide, your own heart speeding up anxiously.

“Yeah, you’re gonna attend the school here with Jean an’ the Professor an’ me. You’ll learn how’da not let your power control you.”

“You’re a mutant too?”

“Especially him,” Jean cut in.

Logan gave her an irritated look, but raised both fists in front of his face. In a split second, long, metal claws shot out from between his knuckles into the open. You gasped. He carefully brought them down, letting you inspect them. You lightly pressed a delicate finger against the tip of one of the claws. It was freezing cold and razor sharp. A scarlet drop of blood fell from your fingerprint, staining the sterile sheet. He retracted the claws and you watched as the slits quickly stitched themselves back together.

It suddenly all became too much. The tears involuntarily spilled down your pink cheeks, overcome with the developments. Mutations, telepaths, claws … nothing made sense anymore.

The quiet sobs wracked your small frame and as the emotions overtook you, the thrumming rhythms returned, making it all so much worse. Logan pulled you into his arms in a tight hug, pressing your head to his chest. His loud heartbeat was steady and strong. Reliable and solid. It overpowered everybody else’s rhythms, drowning them out. He let your tears soak through his once-pristine undershirt as you processed everything, his thumbs smoothing circles against your covered shoulder blades. You tried to focus on his grounding touch, tried to bring the tears to a halt. After what felt like an eternity, they finally slowed.

Finally, you pulled away from him. His heartbeat was still the only one you could hear. You looked around the metal room, swiping at your eyes. It was empty except for you and Logan. Jean and the Professor must have left some time ago, but you hadn’t heard their heartbeats soften.

He let go of you completely and picked up the chart Jean had been holding. He quickly scribbled something and flipped it to face you. ‘Feel better?’ he wrote.

You smiled and nodded, almost laughing at his solution to communication.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said. He only smiled in response, knowing you couldn’t hear him. “Now what?”

He held up a finger, asking for a moment, and reached toward the side table. He picked up a device that looked like a small disk, a couple inches thick. Pulling on either side revealed a metal wire that retracted back into the device when the disks were brought together again. The insides of the disks had padding in them. He brought it around behind your head and placed either end over your ears.

Silence. Quiet. Peace.

You let out a sigh of relief. Logan’s pounding heartbeat was brought down to a manageable pulse. Even the rushing sound of the air conditioner and low hum of the electricity flowing through the lightbulbs couldn’t be heard anymore.

“Better?” He asked.

You heard him! His voice was no longer fighting to be heard amongst the drum of his heartbeat. It was loud and clear. You burst into a smile.

“Yes,” you said, reaching back across the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck enthusiastically. He almost lost his balance against your grateful hug.

“C’mon, let’s go find Charles. Y’r gonna love it here.”

You let Logan lead you out of the lab and into the unknown for the second time in twenty-four hours. But this time it was different. You now knew that the trusting, gut-feeling you had about him was your mutation sensing his intentions all along. You knew he was going to make sure you were taken care of and continue to do so long into the future. It’s just the kind of man he is. The caregiver, the protector. He’s Logan.

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thisapplepielife · 5 months ago

Text

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

The First, and the Last

He's the last.

The first, and the last, somehow.

Eddie's been with Steve forever, longer than any of the other couples in their orbit, and yet. They couldn't get married until now. At least not legally, and they just didn't ever bother to do it, symbolically.

So, now they can.

At fifty.

He had to wait thirty years to marry Steve.

Gareth got married after two years. Jeff, four. Goodie, ten, and Goodie's a notorious foot-dragger. Never in a hurry to make any decisions, big or small.

So, thirty sounds insane, in comparison.

Especially since Eddie's the opposite. He's impulsive. He makes decisions fast, and he made his decision about Steve decades ago, but today's the first time he can actually act on it.

And now he's nervous.

He shouldn't be. Steve said yes. There was never any question he wouldn't, but Eddie's hands are shaking as he tries to tie his tie. He's never been very good at it, and today's no different.

"Here, let me," Gareth says, and he ties it with ease.

"Thanks," Eddie says, and just keeps looking at himself in the mirror. When did he get so old? Yeah, the road is hard, and they've been at it for decades, but he feels like he only just realized that so much time has passed.

Which is insane. Gareth has almost raised his kids. That's how long he's been married. Jeff's kids are in middle school. Goodie doesn't have any, but doesn't want any. Eddie never really thought about it. Now he's fifty. He's probably not having kids at fifty.

But he is getting married.

"Steve looks great," Gareth says, "Robin's getting him all shined up."

"Oh, I hope not," Eddie laughs, because Steve can definitely do a better job getting himself ready than Robin.

Then he looks back at Gareth, "I can't believe I'm the last."

"The last what?" Gareth asks, checking his own hair in the mirror.

"To settle down," Eddie says, and he jumps when Gareth barks out a laugh, "What?"

"You think you're the last to settle down? Since when? You've been settled with Steve forever."

"Yeah, but, like, not officially."

Gareth rolls his eyes, "Definitely officially in all the ways that matter. Today is a formality, you understand that, right? You aren't committing to anything today that you haven't been committed to for thirty years."

That's true. That's definitely true. He hadn't thought of it like that.

"It's a piece of paper, Eddie. A tax break. It's nothing else, I promise. You're just as married as I am, because of how you feel about Steve. Trust me."

"What if getting married fucks it all up?" Eddie asks, because he's been worried about that.

"It won't," Gareth reassures. "Trust me. You're solid."

Eddie nods. They are.

"Do you want me to send in Steve?" Gareth asks, meeting Eddie's eyes in the mirror.

"I'm not supposed to see him, before," Eddie says, because that's been hammered into his head. Relentlessly.

"I truly don't think it matters. Will you feel better if you do? That's what matters," Gareth says, and Eddie pauses for a second, then nods.

And Gareth leaves to go fetch him, and Eddie thinks he already feels a little bit better.

Steve comes in and smiles at him as he strides over, "You having cold feet?"

Eddie shakes his head, he's definitely not, "You?"

Steve cups his cheek, leaning over to kiss him, then he cups his cheek, "Never. You look so serious."

"I've loved you for thirty years," Eddie says, as serious as he feels.

Steve smiles, soft and sweet, "Me too, Eddie."

"I would have married you back then, year one, day one. If you'd have had me," Eddie says, leaning into Steve's palm. Finding the familiar comfort there.

"Eddie," Steve says, so soft and tender, "what's this about?"

"I feel like, maybe, I should have married you years ago. Even if it was just for us. Even if it wasn't legal."

"Okay," Steve says, encouraging him to keep talking.

"I'm sorry I didn't, that's all. I'm sorry we're last," he chokes out.

Steve just smiles, and leans in to kiss him once, twice, more, "It's not a race. We're good, Eddie. We've been good for a very long time."

"Did you want kids? Did I sleep on that, too?" Eddie asks, and Steve's shaking his head.

"I would have said so if I did, honey. Honest. Yeah, I assumed that's what my life would be like, before you. But that's just because even in my wildest dreams, I couldn't have predicted the life we'd end up having together."

And it's Eddie's turn to smile, and he keeps on smiling as Gareth pokes his head back in, "We're still doing this right? Everyone's waiting."

Eddie doesn't much care about everyone else, only Steve.

"You gonna marry me?" Eddie asks again, this time cheeky and flirting with Steve, his husband-to-be.

His husband already, in all the ways that matter.

"I suppose so, we're already here," Steve teases, and reaches up to straighten Eddie's tie, "This is good. You finally learned to tie a tie. I'm so proud."

Eddie grins, and ignores the face Gareth is making at him, threatening to out him as a dirty liar.

"Why, yes, yes I did. Just for you sweetheart," Eddie lies, and pokes Gareth in the gut on the way by, knowing Gareth won't say a word. They know where each other's bodies are buried; helped with the shoveling.

This little white lie won't hold up forever. Eventually Steve will see him trying to tie a tie and the jig will be up.

But not today.

"Starting your marriage on a lie, for fucking shame," Gareth hisses as he passes Eddie and Eddie laughs.

And when it's time for Eddie's vows, he ad-libs in a confession about the tie, and Steve laughs, head thrown back, tickled.

Steve then promises in his, that in this marriage, he'll teach Eddie to tie his tie for real.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt six: heard it in a love song #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #steddie fic #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #jeff stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day six: heard it in a long song #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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vidavalor · 1 month ago

Text

The Kiss

There is a big something that I think might be missing in discussion of The Final 15 that could not only help to explain the finale but also help to answer the following common question:

How could Crowley & Aziraphale really be long-time lovers when the kiss is awkward and Aziraphale's response, in particular, could be taken as indicative of the opposite?

There is an answer. To see it involves asking these questions:

What, exactly, do Crowley and Aziraphale each thing is happening in The Final 15... and what are their plans to stop it that they are trying (and failing) to convey to one another?

Those plans-- Crowley's, in particular? They will show you how the show that is no stranger to the art of prestidigitation is showing basically the worst kiss imaginable between two beings who have been lovers for millennia and just how, exactly, that's possible with what their narrative magic trick led you to think you saw.

Grab a drink and c'mon in. We're going to reverse-engineer The Final 15 and, if you're anything like the people I've already shown this to, you might look at both the kiss and the ending of S2 in a whole new romantic light as a result...

The most common question and comment that I have received is always how it is that I can see Crowley and Aziraphale as very old lovers when the kiss in 2.06, to some people, tells a different story.

Very often this question comes not from people who don't want them to be old lovers but from people who do-- especially people who like my ideas about The Vavoom that Crowley spends half of S2 going on about being their first kiss or who agree with the idea that the ancient Rome scene and its highly euphemistic oysters is meant to suggest the first time Crowley and Aziraphale went to bed together. They agree with the zillions of little suggestions of Crowley and Aziraphale having been lovers in secret for millennia but they are thrown by the only kiss to date being that admittedly very painful to watch one with a reaction out of Aziraphale that is borderline devastated. If they've been a couple for ages, as a hundred different moments suggest, how can we square that with this kiss?

I've given this answer, in bits and pieces, to a few people and they all have been in agreement that it makes sense, answers those above questions, and actually also makes all of the end of S2 a bit more romantic, if still sad. Hopefully, if that's what you're looking for, it will do that for you, too. This is a very long post but if everyone's reading epic fic around the kiss, why not a meta, right? There are chocolate cookies. *passes the tray*

TWs: Satan's attacks on Crowley-- the possession-as-rape-analogy in Good Omens; PTSD; anxiety.

To understand both what's going on The Final 15 and why the kiss is... that kiss... we have to first understand just what it is that Crowley and Aziraphale think is happening in this scene.

There are a lot of distractions thrown in everywhere and, as I've looked around, I haven't seen anyone talk yet about what Crowley thinks is happening, in particular... because it's not just his worry about Aziraphale and the Supreme Archangel job. It's not really actually that at all-- and the show told us (and only us) that back near the start of 2.01.

In the beginning of the season, we are shown that Crowley is freaked out about The Book of Life. It doesn't actually matter in S2 if The Book of Life is real or not. All that matters is that Crowley becomes convinced that it is. This fear that Aziraphale could be written out of it and made to have never existed is then driving Crowley's behavior all season...

...but only we the audience know that. Why does that matter?

Because it explains a lot of the communication gaps happening between the main four characters that are actually what cause The Final 15 to unfold the way it does and what are, therefore, kind of responsible for that blasted kiss being the way it is.

So, we have to look at those miscommunications first, in order to understand how Crowley arrives at a plan he does to stop Aziraphale from being Book of Life'd and what that plan has to do with the kiss. It's not actually something in anyone's mouth-- it's something I haven't seen anyone bring up yet that actually also ties the whole season together. Right, so, the miscommunications and why Crowley hasn't told anyone by 2.06 about how he's freaked out about The Book of Life...

While Crowley is advocating that people talk to one another-- that feeding your fellow metaphorical ducks your metaphorical frozen peas, as he tells Shax in 2.01-- is the way forward, he's holding back on his own frozen peas where The Book of Life is concerned. Despite being open about his emotions with Aziraphale, he doesn't tell him about this all season. Crowley's heart is in the right place for doing so but he's made a *huge* error in judgement in withholding this information from Aziraphale. Why is Crowley making that big mistake when he normally wouldn't with Aziraphale?

It's because of how he learned of the threat of The Book of Life and how that relates to what Aziraphale is going through in S2.

Aziraphale is struggling to deal with the feeling that Heaven has abandoned him. Until Gabriel showed up at the shop, no one from Heaven has spoken to Aziraphale in the years between S1 and S2. He wants Heaven to fuck off but he's also embarrassed by how easily they seem to have been able to do so. Crowley knows what it feels like to feel like Heaven has thrown you over and he's trying to be a sensitive partner to Aziraphale. He can't stand how Heaven has made his angel feel and he's not keen on making it worse by telling Aziraphale more than is absolutely necessary regarding any interactions with Hell that Crowley is having.

In reality, Heaven hasn't actually abandoned Aziraphale-- not entirely. Gabriel and Beez are on Crowley and Aziraphale's side but they haven't told them that. Because of the events of the end of S1, Gabriel and Beez think that Crowley and Aziraphale wouldn't want to talk to them and they also think that all four of them could be in danger if they were caught interacting. They think the best way to protect Crowley and Aziraphale is to pretend as much as possible like they don't exist. This is easier for Gabriel to get away with in Heaven than it is for Beez to get away with in Hell.

The top angels don't care about the bookshop and see being assigned to Earth as beneath them. They're all jockeying for power and focused on Armageddon so none of them are bugging Gabriel about Aziraphale's ambassador job and the embassy bookshop that they presume is just going to be destroyed during Armageddon anyway. Gabriel can get away with protecting Aziraphale by just not doing anything about him or the bookshop whatsoever. Beez, though, is in a tighter position.

The higher-ranked demons all want to get the hell out of there and escape to Earth and Crowley had one of the most plum jobs in Hell. Beez is under a lot of pressure to fire and replace him. They manage to kick the can down the road as much as possible-- probably using the pandemic lockdowns and how there were fewer people out to tempt as an excuse-- until they get to a point where they have to replace Crowley or risk being seen as a traitor themselves, which would put all four of them in danger and would have been abandoning Gabriel, which Beez couldn't do.

So, Beez sends the one annoying them the most about the job-- Shax-- to take over Crowley's position, which also means kicking Crowley out of the Hell-owned flat he had in Mayfair. Beez doesn't actually want to do this. Note how when they talk to Crowley in Hell in S2, they say that they could put a price on his head anytime... but we know that they haven't and it's been four years. They don't really wish him any harm, they just felt they had to pretend like they do in Hell to stay alive. Beez and Gabriel have been doing the best they can to protect Crowley and Aziraphale and they think that, while it is obviously not great that they've had to take Crowley's flat, it's not a total disaster because Gabriel can make sure that the bookshop remains in Aziraphale's hands and doesn't Crowley basically live in the bookshop with Aziraphale anyway?

Gabriel and Beez aren't exactly wrong about Crowley basically living in the bookshop-- but they aren't exactly right about it, either. We are shown that Crowley, for all intents and purposes, does basically live in the bookshop. They both get "plenty of use" out of it, don't they? It's the reason why Aziraphale doesn't notice that Crowley has lost his flat-- Crowley is just there in the shop with him, in what is basically their home, every night until the pre-dawn hours, when he slips out of the side door because they're still trying not to be caught.

Ironically? It's not just Satan and The Metatron but Gabriel and Beez that Crowley and Aziraphale don't want to find out that they're a couple because they don't know that Gabriel and Beez actually have already known forever and are on their side. They don't know that Gabriel and Beez have been trying to protect them from Satan and The Metatron. Ahead of S2, Crowley and Aziraphale see Beez and Gabriel as threats when, in reality, the reason why they've been getting away with their relationship for so long is because Ineffable Bureaucracy already knows, ships it, and doesn't think it's any of their business.

Because no one's talking to each other here about this stuff, though, Aziraphale doesn't know he has Gabriel in his corner. He's understandably very sensitive about the fact that no one in Heaven seems to give a fuck about him. He doesn't want Heaven to be bugging them but he's also embarrassed by how easily Heaven has thrown him over-- a very hard pill to swallow after Aziraphale has spent so many years denying himself the full life he wants because of Heaven.

No angels have shown up in the bookshop in four years to formally fire Aziraphale and try to claim the bookshop, which is, technically, an angelic space. To Aziraphale, this means that he's so inconsequential that Heaven couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge his existence. In reality, no angels have because Gabriel is a fan of both Aziraphale and the bookshop and has been making sure that no one hurts either... but he hasn't told Aziraphale that and, because of what happens to Gabriel in S2, he actually is incapable of doing so because his memories are missing. So, all of this is exacerbating Aziraphale's already high anxiety and depression in S2.

Crowley sees and understands Aziraphale's feelings over Heaven and he doesn't want to make it worse. He can't stand seeing Aziraphale in pain so, while he's open about other emotions and goings on, he keeps from Aziraphale any interactions that he has with Hell.

He's doing so because he thinks it will embarrass Aziraphale even more if he finds out that even Hell cared about Crowley and his demonic job performance enough that they thought enough of him to actually fire and replace him. This is why Crowley keeps from Aziraphale the information that Shax has taken his job and flat-- and the far more important information that Beez reached out to him, asked for his help, and convinced him of the threat of The Book of Life.

All Aziraphale does know about Crowley's interactions with Hell during S2 is that he knows that Crowley is meeting Shax for information (Crowley's "you'll never guess who Shax asked me about" to Aziraphale in 2.01.). Crowley has told Aziraphale this because he has no other choice. The two of them need a source in Heaven or Hell to give them information on whether or not Heaven or Hell is planning on coming after them and when Armageddon: Round Two might be getting going. Telling Aziraphale this was bad enough, as far is Crowley is concerned, because it alone is causing Aziraphale embarrassment.

Aziraphale is mortified that Crowley needs to be the one of the two of them to provide the source. He sees it as a failure to protect Crowley because he thinks it would be safer for Crowley if they had a source in Heaven and he's embarrassed by the fact that no one in Heaven will talk to him. This theme of Aziraphale feeling like he's failing Crowley and isn't able to fully protect him carries into The Final 15 and is why Aziraphale is (quite literally) tempted by the (really non-existent) job offer.

What this means, though, is that Crowley's decision to not tell Aziraphale about his concerns about The Book of Life because it would mean telling him about his interaction with Beez means that Crowley's usual sounding board of Aziraphale is, in Crowley's mind, not an option for all of S2. The person who usually helps calm his anxiety is someone that Crowley has decided he can't talk to without triggering their anxiety when, in reality, it actually would have made Aziraphale feel a thousand times better if Crowley had gone to him with this.

Because Crowley trusts few people, if he doesn't have Aziraphale to talk to about his fears, he doesn't have a lot of other options. Humans and Shax are obviously out, as is Beez, whom Crowley thinks still believes it to be true. When Crowley brings it up to Gabriel, he doesn't actually say "The Book of Life" at any point. He growls that Aziraphale is "risking his existence" for Gabriel, which is really, from Gabriel's perspective, just another way of saying "risking his life."

While Jim didn't have his memories and so couldn't really offer Crowley any counsel about it, Gabriel probably knows whether or not The Book of Life is real or not... he just has no idea, based on how Crowley phrased it, that Crowley is concerned about it. He probably could have told Crowley that it isn't real in 2.06 if Crowley had actually talked to him about it but Crowley didn't let him in enough and that fucks The Final 15, too. When Gabriel gets his memories back in 2.06, he doesn't say anything to Crowley about The Book of Life because he doesn't even know it's an issue... only we do. We are shown it so that we know where Crowley's mind is at and can use that to help interpret what's happening in 2.06.

So, what do all these miscommunications have to do with Crowley's plan and The Kiss?

Honestly? Everything...

Believing in The Book of Life is Crowley's main concern throughout the whole season and, because Crowley got the information that led to his fear of The Book of Life from Beez, he has decided it's not something about which he can tell Aziraphale. This results in Aziraphale having absolutely no idea what Crowley believes the threat is during The Final 15. It is a big part of why they fail to understand what one another is saying... and it's a *very* big part of how that kiss ended up so awkward, despite Crowley and Aziraphale actually being long-time lovers, as you'll see as we talk below about just what Crowley was planning on doing about this threat of The Book of Life.

Crowley is convinced that the dude who shows up with coffee in 2.06 is The Metatron. Because he thinks it's The Metatron, Crowley now thinks that The Metatron is trying to lure Aziraphale to Heaven to write his name out of The Book of Life and make it so that the love of Crowley's life has never existed and Crowley. is. terrified. of this happening...

Is he just going to stand by and watch it happen, though?

Of course not. Crowley always has a plan. So, what's Crowley's plan?

If you were Crowley and you believed in the threat of non-existence via The Book of Life, based on what he (and we) have seen in the story so far, what would you think you could do to save Aziraphale?

Crowley knows that he can't actually prevent The Metatron from trying to erase Aziraphale. He knows they're basically trapped and that he might not be able to stop Aziraphale from going with The Metatron, willingly or unwillingly, because The Metatron seems to have boxed them into a corner a bit here. So, presuming that Aziraphale's name will get erased, how does Crowley put into motion prior to that happening a plan to save Aziraphale from no longer existing if The Metatron erases his name?

And how does he do all of that right under The Metatron's nose, with almost no time to spare?

If your first answer is that they need to get all of Aziraphale's Aziraphaleness out of the body named 'Aziraphale' before The Metatron erases that name from The Book of Life, that is a start... that is the first phase of a plan... but it's not all of it because that would just solve one part of the problem. It's why The Fly isn't really the full answer here and there's another thing happening.

Crowley is thinking that he needs to protect Aziraphale in a way similar to how Beez protected Gabriel, in that he needs to help Aziraphale see the risk and to separate his mind from his body, the way that Gabriel was able to do to elude The Metatron and escape from Heaven just a few days before... but there is one, big issue with this threat of The Book of Life that is different from Gabriel's situation:

Gabriel still had his body.

By using Beez's fly, Gabriel was able to separate his mind and his body enough to be able to use his body to take his mind to the bookshop and, ultimately, save both parts of himself. It's because he was able to pull that off that Crowley and Beez were able to help him reunite his mind with his body by opening The Fly, right?

This doesn't fully work if the threat is The Book of Life, as Crowley believes it is to Aziraphale. Why not? Because Aziraphale's body will have been made to have never existed.

They can get Aziraphale's mind out of his body before he's erased and save his essence but, unlike with Gabriel's situation, there won't be a body to put that essence back into once the threat has passed, right?

So, Crowley knows that his plan needs to account for that. There has to be a way to not just save Aziraphale's mind from The Book of Life but to ensure that his angel's body can be kept from non-existence, too.

So, how is Crowley not just going to save Aziraphale's mind but his body so that Crowley can... *sigh* wait for it...

...restore his friend, Aziraphale, to full angelic status...

...when the threat of The Book of Life has passed?

What is one thing that exists in Good Omens that we have seen-- and so has Crowley-- that could solve the problem of both Aziraphale's mind and body in the face of a threat of The Book of Life?

It's in figuring out how to save Aziraphale's body that Crowley sees how to save all of him. How to save Aziraphale's body?

Crowley knows a guy. So do we. His name is Adam.

Crowley's thinking that, if they can get Aziraphale's mind out of Aziraphale's body the way that Beez and Gabriel did for Gabriel, that, so long as they have a fly of sorts in which to store all of Aziraphale's Aziraphaleness for a bit until after The Metatron erases Aziraphale's name from The Book of Life, they can then, once the threat has passed, drive to Tadfield and get Adam to regenerate Aziraphale's body. From there, they just pop Aziraphale's mind back into said body and ta-da! Aziraphale has eluded The Book of Life.

So, there are just a few hiccups to Crowley's plan here... namely, the fact that Beez is gone so they don't have the option of one of their flies and, even if they did, there's no way that The Metatron is going to leave them alone long enough for Aziraphale to actually extract his memories safely into one.

They are going to have do something like The Fly but that isn't exactly The Fly... and they're going to have to do it right under The Metatron's nose. Right in front of him, without him knowing, and within the few moments after Aziraphale returns to the bookshop...

...or else, Crowley believes, Aziraphale is going to die.

There is only one option left and it is the stuff of Crowley's nightmares:

He will need to be Aziraphale's fly.

To save Aziraphale from The Book of Life, Crowley thinks that Aziraphale will have to possess him.

If Aziraphale possesses him, Aziraphale will become Crowley.

He will be safe in Crowley and they can send the Jimbriel-like shell of Aziraphale left in Aziraphale's body with The Metatron to be erased. They can then get in The Bentley and drive to Tadfield, get Adam to regenerate Aziraphale's body, and they can put Aziraphale back into Aziraphale's own body.

They have no time and no other option for a fly and this is the only way. It also happens to be the thing that terrifies Crowley the most because, while he knows that Aziraphale will never hurt him, Crowley has been attacked in this way by Satan before and this is not something he and Aziraphale do. Aziraphale has Crowley-- body, heart and soul-- but his mind is a red line that neither of them have any desire to cross. They don't see it as healthy because it's unnecessarily triggering for Crowley and Aziraphale has zero interest in doing anything that worsens Crowley's PTSD.

Even if Aziraphale had understood this plan when Crowley presented it-- and we'll look at how he does that in a moment-- it's unlikely that Aziraphale would have done it, even with the express consent that Crowley was giving him. The risk to his own life wouldn't have mattered to Aziraphale more than the possibility of causing Crowley harm. How do we know that?

Because, back in S1, when Aziraphale was discorporated in Heaven, the world was also about to end. He needed to get to Tadfield to help Crowley stop it. The only way to do that in that moment was to possess somebody. With eight billion people and every living thing on Earth at risk, Aziraphale's solution to this problem did not even really include asking for the option of possessing Crowley. He makes a joke about not having a body limiting his ability to "inhabit" Crowley's that is sexual innuendo, not a request to hitch a ride to Tadfield in his mind.

He then sets about telling Crowley that he is searching for "a receptive body," as Aziraphale put it-- meaning, for someone who would consent to being possessed, because non-consensual possession is the supernatural equivalent to rape, as the show has been using as an allegory since its first episode. Aziraphale was not willing to possess anybody who wasn't consenting to it because he's obviously not a rapist. What the scene also shows, though, is that Aziraphale considered the idea of possessing Crowley such a non-starter of a plan that he was looking for literally anybody else on Earth who was willing to be his ride to Tadfield rather than go anywhere near the idea of an action that they both knew would be unhealthy for Crowley.

If Aziraphale hadn't found Madame Tracy, he would have just kept looking, even if it ran out the clock. He was willing to let the world burn rather than possess Crowley-- even if Crowley consented-- back in S1. There is some foreshadowing of possession being part of the 2.06 plot earlier in S2 when Aziraphale discovers that he has basically accidentally quasi-possessed Crowley to an extent when he was driving The Bentley by not realizing that Crowley has essentially psychically linked himself to the car.

Aziraphale was joking around in making the car a sexual metaphor for Crowley and bemusing himself by having the car be increasingly more like how Crowley is privately than how he presents himself to the outside world. He changes the car to the color of Crowley's eyes-- having it take off its black and silver glasses. The car brings him little treats, plays the music he feels like listening to, responds positively to some tongue-in-cheek, playful, soft domming, etc... Aziraphale thought this was purely a metaphor until Crowley told him that he could feel everything that Aziraphale was doing to the car.

Crowley hadn't told Aziraphale prior to Aziraphale leaving that he was linked to his car in that way and, when Aziraphale realizes that his humorous, little mischief is actually the result of being tied a little to Crowley's mind, Aziraphale immediately backs off of what he was doing. We later see him ask The Bentley for music on the way back from Edinburgh and he doesn't make any changes to the car for the rest of the trip. He's aware that he freaked Crowley out by sort-of being in his mind a little, as it was never his intention to do so.

It's likely that, even if Aziraphale had been able to understand what Crowley was trying to say with his plan for Aziraphale to possess him in 2.06, that he simply would not have done it. That doesn't change the fact, though, that Crowley has arrived at possession as the only way to stop The Book of Life and that it's the core of his plan.

So, the other hiccups to Crowley's plan... how does Crowley convince The Metatron that he just is watching romance and nothing else? How does he tell Aziraphale this plan... and how do they pull it off with The Metatron watching them?

First is that Crowley needs The Metatron to think that he has nothing but romance on the brain. He doesn't trust that Muriel-- who is super-excited to be singled out for a possible role by The Metatron-- won't tell The Metatron everything he's said the moment that they leave the shop. Crowley says aloud in front of them something that is both true and a lie at once-- that he thinks that, when Aziraphale "comes back", that they need to go for "an extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz." Crowley does really want to do this and it's arguable that when he says "comes back", knowing his plan as we are seeing it here, he really means "comes back" from all of this Book of Life stuff, but he phrases it in such a way that Muriel, if they repeat it to The Metatron, will make it sound like Crowley is literally thinking of nothing but a boozy brunch date.

Next, Crowley knows that he'll need to speak uninterrupted for a couple of moments about something that The Metatron can hear on the surface but that is really using their hidden language to convey this possession plan to Aziraphale under the surface.

Later in the scene, when Crowley says "no nightingales" to Aziraphale as everything else is falling apart, he's trying to say: you didn't hear the coded things I was saying... but, in the most romantic of *sob of frustration* things ever, that same word also happens to just mean their love for one another, which is what their whole secret language really is about in the first place... So, Aziraphale actually winds up hearing: you don't love me instead.

Back when Crowley was formulating this plan, though? He was sure that he could get Aziraphale to understand him by using their nightingales-y Ineffable Husbands Speak because not like that hasn't been working for them for the last few thousand years or anything! Rare is the day that they don't know what each other means in it so Crowley thinks it will work.

Crowley also knows how to solve the last challenge of this plan, which is that the effects of possession or any influence miracle can be visible to outsiders. We've seen that it can cause observable changes on someone's face. This means that Crowley and Aziraphale will need a way of keeping that contained from The Metatron's view.

Crowley has a plan... as foreshadowed (unfortunately lol) by this bit earlier in the season:

Crowley's plan is that they can cover Aziraphale possessing him if Aziraphale kisses him when he does it.

Before I go on... stop and think about that for a second.

If Crowley's plan to save Aziraphale's life is dependent upon Aziraphale kissing him, there is absolutely zero chance that this would be the first time that they've ever kissed. Crowley would never come up with a plan that was reliant upon Aziraphale kissing him if kissing him wasn't something Aziraphale didn't already regularly do and with which he had no issue.

Ok, so, what this means then is that Crowley needs to be saying something in Ineffable Husbands Speak that sounds, on the surface, like something that he could be reasonably saying so that The Metatron won't be suspicious, even if The Metatron finds it abhorrent. It needs to be something that Crowley thinks can lead directly towards Aziraphale kissing him, once Aziraphale hears the coded speech and understands the plan and that Crowley is consenting to it.

For the first time, they aren't using the hidden language as a smokescreen for their relationship but for a plan. The cant that is designed to hide their romantic relationship being the idea that they're enemies when they're speaking in public is now going to be used sort of backwards from its original purpose. They're speaking openly about their romance in front of The Metatron and using that romance that they usually try to keep hidden as a distraction from the plans to elude Heaven and Hell that they're really using the language to convey to one another. (We'll talk about Aziraphale's plan in just a moment.)

So, how do we know this? Let's start looking at a bit of the plan-conveying dialogue...

Crowley's plan is possession, right? If I asked you to name the single most overt bit of innuendo in Good Omens-- stuff that isn't really even coded-- you are probably going to tell me that it's Crowley and Aziraphale turning talk of possession into overt sexual innuendo with the "receptive body... harder than you think" and "I'm not going to go there" comments in S1, right?

The reasons why this is *so* direct in S1 are two-fold. The first reason is just to help emphasize the possession-as-sex allegory that is happening but the second reason is because the series needs us to see that possession-as-sex allegory exists not just thematically but between Crowley and Aziraphale. We need to see them speak about possession in this way so that, when we eventually get to S2's Final 15, we already know that Crowley and Aziraphale talk about possession in a highly-sexualized way and can then understand what they're saying more subtly in coded language as a result.

For example...

We've known each other a long time. We've been on THIS PLANET for a long time. I mean, you and me.

Known: contains own, which means possession; know, which is an old, Biblical, sexual euphemism for sex that Crowley uses in multiple scenes, and the word now.

THIS PLANET (practically shouted, for emphasis): this is the plan.

For a long time: redistributed, this is all onto me. For is also por in Spanish. Homophone: pour. Pour it all onto me.

I mean, you and me: The word mean comes from the same root as the word mind. "I mean" = "my mind." This is why Crowley says "I mean" several times during this scene when he normally doesn't say it much at all. "You and me" is said so quickly that it comes out sounding like "you in me", especially when his quick hand gesture is reinforcing it and looks like a drink, reinforcing the alcohol/coffee-as-sex vibe. "I mean, you and me" is also "I'm me, and you in me," referring to what he's trying to have happen.

The first lines of the proposal, when Crowley tries it, amount to: This is the plan: You need to weave us together, angel. Possess me.

Take my mind. Do it now.

This is really why he looks like he's going to pass out or throw up. He's not confessing love for Aziraphale. He's not even, truly, asking Aziraphale to marry him, even if that's what it sounds like. He's terrified that Aziraphale is going to die and he thinks the only way out of this is for Aziraphale to take over his mind, which, even though Crowley trusts Aziraphale, is the most frightening thing he can imagine, shy of losing Aziraphale. Crowley being wide-eyed and shallowly breathing here? That's not cute confession or proposal butterflies. That's terror and anxiety. He's trying to stave off an anxiety attack because, in his mind, if he doesn't, it could mean Aziraphale's life.

Every single line of Crowley's proposal is reinforcing this idea. It is just attempting to rephrase it in different ways... over and over. Every single line is basically a different way of saying this same thing. Look at the next ones...

I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us...

Rely, from the verb ligare, meaning to tie or knot together; also: to lay down or to lay. He's proposing that they, well, tie the knot as a cover for knotting the two of them together via the possession to save Aziraphale. A team, a group... These are singular words that describe multiple people. It's again saying: knot us together, possess me, make us one person. A group of the two of us. They'd be a group-- a singular thing-- made up of the two of them. Additionally? Team contains tea, group contains rou, homophone: roux, and a grouper is a kind of fish. Tea, sauce, and fish = three different sexually euphemistic things in Ineffable Husbands Speak, underscoring the fact that Crowley is basically just saying: SEX, ANGEL. DO THE THING THAT IS LIKE SEX RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.

It's the fanfic season. An unique take on 'fuck or die' was inevitable, no? 🤭

There are two moments in what Crowley says where he tries to reference The Book of Life to help Aziraphale understand what he's saying when it has become evident that Aziraphale does not. (We'll look at why and also at what Aziraphale is trying to tell Crowley that Crowley is not getting in a second.) I'm going to point them out because they help to reinforce this possession plan theory. The first is when Crowley says "our existence" and the second is what he says in intentionally mispronouncing Beez's name.

As mentioned, because of Crowley's own actions throughout the season, Aziraphale has no fucking idea that Crowley is so worked up about The Book of Life and, maybe more telling? Aziraphale himself is not really concerned about it, despite Michael threatening him with it a moment earlier. We'll see what Aziraphale thinks is going on below but he's not worried about The Book of Life, which helps to suggest that Crowley was correct back in 2.01 and this thing, the way that he and Beez think it exists? Doesn't really exist.

It suggests that, had Crowley actually talked to Aziraphale about The Book of Life at one point during the past week-- had he told him about what Beez said to him and how he wasn't sure if his memories were correct-- that Aziraphale's response would have been all oh, honey, don't worry-- you were right. That's not real.

Yeah, I'm saying that Crowley has built an entire plan around a threat that he once made up in his mind as a by-product of his own fears about Heaven because...

That's what anxiety is.

Even if it turns out to not be the case? The point would still stand that Crowley anxiety'd himself into this plan because he didn't talk to Aziraphale about what he was feeling and how that led to disaster.

But, back to the dialogue...

The real reason why Aziraphale isn't hearing "existence" when Crowley says it and thinking "The Book of Life" is because Crowley says "existence" for life all the damn time because our demon thinks he can't really have a life, just an existence, since he's damned. Here's Crowley using "existence" to describe his precious, peaceful, if fragile, life with Aziraphale back in 2.01:

So, Aziraphale's mind is not exactly going to jump to The Book of Life when he hears Crowley use "existence" in 2.06. The sentence that hurts Aziraphale-- "and we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't"-- actually is a little different in Ineffable Husbands Speak. Tending means to take care of, which is also how Crowley was also using it in 1941's "you tend to see sea things." We aren't = we are knot. To the outside world, they've pretended that they're not a couple but they haven't been pretending that with one another for their whole existence.

(If you go full Mr. Harmony and look at little closer at what Crowley is mouthing after his conversation with Nina in the street about his and Aziraphale's relationship, he actually appears to be mouthing that other word Nina just said-- "life"/"lives"-- and not "love"... speaking of scenes that are designed to mislead the audience... 😉 It's not an oh moment-- it's Crowley thinking of the topic of life that is plaguing him all week-- their own existence and The Book of Life. How could it be an oh moment? This demon had a contact phone image for Aziraphale back in S1 that was hearts being consumed by flames. I think he's caught onto the fact that he's in love with him by now...)

Anyway, as Crowley grows more desperate to convey the plan in 2.06, he employs Gabriel and Beez's names as part of the coded language. Gabriel's name means "messenger" so, to say it while wording, is to say "message." The most important part, though, is Crowley's intentional mispronunciation of Beez's name. He's genuinely crying, which is what both allows for the cover of him saying it incorrectly, but is then also what makes it so Aziraphale isn't sure what he's hearing because Crowley will slur his sibilant sounds when distressed, if not usually in this particular way.

Crowley says Beez's name like this: "Be ale je bub." Je in French is I while bub is short for bubbly, or champagne. (Dark mirror of S1 anyone? They should be toasting each other at The Ritz right now, dammit...) Bees = angels, per Crowley in the prior episode, and he uses be as bee in the cant to mean angel in different scenes. This is saying Aziraphale is ale/beer to Crowley's champagne and they're combined together into one word: Beezlebub. Yes, it's a cocktail, which is probably how Aziraphale heard it, if he caught it (which is a bit of a debatable point) but that's actually not the word Crowley is trying to say. The word Crowley is trying to say is the one that who he believes is The Metatron used to refer to The Book of Life a few minutes earlier: balderdash.

While, today, balderdash refers to words and means utter nonsense, the original definition of it was a drink that combined two different types of alcohol. Crowley is actually trying use Beez's name to reference balderdash to Aziraphale and we can see how his mind would do that, right? Beez is who told him of The Book of Life threat... we get that but Aziraphale doesn't know so he won't get it... and balderdash is what the being Crowley thinks is The Metatron just said about The Book of Life. Crowley doesn't trust The Metatron so he's trying to say that he doesn't believe The Book of Life is balderdash and that's what's upsetting him, that's why he's in tears, because Aziraphale could be erased into non-existence.

By taking what they're each saying just on the surface, the two of them get so turned around that they wind up thinking they're trying to break up with one another. This becomes a huge problem for both of them because if they call it quits, they have to stop talking and if they have stop talking, they are out of ways to convey a plan.

Crowley eventually gets to a point of desperation because they've shifted towards a break up and to prolong it indefinitely while repeating different versions of the same thing is going to look suspicious and The Metatron might figure out what he's trying to do. Crowley needs a way to refer back to what he's already said during the proposal and try to get Aziraphale to see it as coded language.

So, Crowley winds up taking a risk. He says the word for their secret language aloud in conversation, hoping that The Metatron will just take it as a private reference and not coded speech, and that Aziraphale will hear that there is hidden language that he is missing:

The problem here is that nightingales also means their love for each other and Aziraphale doesn't see the reference to coded language that Crowley is trying to convey. Crowley is asking if Aziraphale can hear and pointing overhead, in a nod to the first formations of what would eventually become their coded speech with those other birds-- the crows of the Job minisode. He's speaking of the language but that language exists as a way that they love one another and their name for it is synonymous with that love and Crowley is saying this in a moment when they have both got this all so backwards that they are all but breaking up with one another.

So, in that context? Aziraphale hears, instead: you don't love me.

This is then why Aziraphale turns away and starts to cry, instead of being like ohhhhh! you were speaking in our vocabulary! let me just have a quick think back on what you were saying-- ah, ok, I get it! let me run over and possession-kiss you now!... which is what Crowley was trying to have happen.

Crowley, though, thinks that there's no way that Aziraphale could have heard him say nightingales and not thought it referred to hidden speech. He gives Aziraphale a second, in which he's thinking that he's now got Aziraphale thinking back on the proposal and understanding the plan.

In order for this plan to work, what still needs to happen? The thing to cover the possession, right? They need another opportunity for that so Crowley makes one.

He walks back and, as we all well know, he kisses Aziraphale.

He kisses Aziraphale not just because of the existing emotions of the idea of Aziraphale going to Heaven but because this is the last shot of there being a moment to do so that could cover the possession that could, in Crowley's mind, save Aziraphale's life. He kisses Aziraphale to give Aziraphale the chance to possess him, which Aziraphale, as we've mentioned, likely wouldn't do even if he understood this plan.

This is also why the kiss is terrible. It's why they barely move. It's why Crowley can't deepen it and it just doesn't go anywhere. The whole point of the kiss is to give Aziraphale the chance to use the kiss as cover to possess him so, by default? Crowley can't really do much here but wait out as long as is feasible before this just starts to look weird to even The Metatron lol. It's why he's not really kissing Aziraphale much at all and why he hangs on for the seven eternities of this kiss to give Aziraphale as much time as possible and why he stays nearby for a moment afterwards, hoping that it would have still just then clicked for Aziraphale, who could then jump back into his arms and kiss him to possess him.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale just has no idea why he's being kissed right now and he's just been through an emotional gauntlet. Four minutes ago, he thought Crowley wanted to marry him. Now, they're getting ineffably divorced. He's getting unexpectedly kissed when Crowley was about to leave. This is all not even yet counting in what is actually happening with Aziraphale and his side of this and what Crowley isn't hearing him say this whole time, either. All of those things very much account for Aziraphale's reaction to this kiss, as you'll see.

And still, what happens?

Aziraphale kisses Crowley a bit. He holds him closer. Because he can't not do either of those things. He doesn't know fully what's happening here but he knows he loves Crowley and that Crowley is very upset and he can't not try to comfort him. He doesn't know how to not kiss Crowley, even just a little, even as this is a complete and utter disaster of a thing that Aziraphale can't really fully parse out because he lacks the context to understand even why this kiss is happening right now, let alone with the fact that Crowley doesn't know what Aziraphale thinks is going on and the plan that Aziraphale is trying to convey that Crowley hasn't been hearing.

So... speaking of that! Wait until you see just how frustratingly similar a plan Aziraphale has, even if he thinks something totally different is happening...

As mentioned in other posts, there is a scene in 2.06 that says that Aziraphale spoke to The Metatron the night before after blowing up his halo. It happens here:

So, Aziraphale actually did tell The Metatron where he could stick it the night before. This means that Aziraphale spent the prior night after where we left him during the bookshop attack anticipating that The Metatron was going to tell Satan that Aziraphale was fair game. This is one of the big hints that we're actually watching Aziraphale's fall in S2 and that Coffee Dude is really Satan, who has taken on the appearance of The Metatron in order to tempt Aziraphale.

Thwarting Heaven is basically Aziraphale's part-time job, though, and he doesn't want to fall. He's not just going to accept this fate. He's worked up a plan to try to stop it from happening.

Aziraphale doesn't see demons as lesser beings-- he's in love with one of them. He doesn't want to fall because being a demon means that your soul belongs to Satan for all of eternity and Satan is a) Crowley's assailant and b) The Devil... so, Aziraphale's a bit of a hard pass on falling. It's awfully dark, cramped and violent down there and Aziraphale, having spent thousands of years as Crowley's partner, knows better than most how being a demon comes with a great deal of pain. It doesn't matter to our Marvelous Mr. Fell that no angel before him has ever managed to successfully escape falling. He's going to try.

Aziraphale knows that he can't control the actions of The Metatron or Satan. He has to assume that Satan will show up at his door and he knows he can't outrun him forever. Aziraphale also has humility enough to know that he has a history of trusting the wrong people for the right reasons... and that Satan is the trickiest motherfucker there is. Aziraphale knows that his plan to avoid becoming a demon will have to include the assumption that he will fall for Satan's temptation.

As a result? Aziraphale needs a failsafe.

He needs something that will prevent him from becoming a demon should he fail to resist Satan's temptation. Hell is coming for him and, if it all goes wrong? He needs a way to protect himself. Aziraphale needs, as Crowley once needed with holy water, a failsafe against Hell. He needs insurance.

What is the one thing that could keep an angel from becoming a demon? Even if they fall for Satan's temptation, what's the one thing that could make it so that if Heaven then tries to make them a demon and cast them to Hell, it wouldn't work?

It's a bit of a mindfuck-- literally-- but there's really only one thing.

The only way that an angel being tossed to Hell by Heaven would avoid becoming a demon is if they were already, temporarily, a demon. You can't fall if you're already fallen, can you?

So, how would Aziraphale temporarily become a demon?

Yeah. They have almost exactly the same plan.

Just the key, romantic difference of Crowley trying to offer Aziraphale his mind even though it terrifies him because he'd do anything to save him and Aziraphale trying to offer Crowley his to protect them both from the being who had hurt them by hurting Crowley in the first place.

Both of them know that the way to save each other and to keep the looming threats to Aziraphale at bay is if they love and protect each other and stay together but they can't get one another to hear each other saying that and think, instead, that the other wants to leave when what they both really want is to be together.

Aziraphale's plan to prevent is fall is to have Crowley possess him. If Crowley were to possess Aziraphale, then Mr. Fell would temporarily be fallen because Crowley would become Aziraphale. They'd be together, in Aziraphale's body, with Crowley controlling the possession. Should Aziraphale fall for the temptation, he still won't fall to Hell and become a demon because it won't work when Heaven tries it since the already-fallen Crowley is possessing him.

Pretty good plan, right? In the morning, it becomes a matter of being able to tell Crowley what happened with The Metatron and what this plan Aziraphale has come up with for dealing with it is.

The villains learned from S1, though, and they make sure that not only do Crowley and Aziraphale not have a whole night together to plan the way they did in S1 but that they don't have a moment together alone to speak freely for the entire rest of the season. Crowley is gone all night, held back from Aziraphale by Heaven, and Aziraphale's relief when he returns is palpable. He had worried that Crowley had been harmed and he also was terrified that he wouldn't come back since, without him, Aziraphale stood no chance of avoiding falling.

For the first few minutes of Crowley's return, Aziraphale thinks they still have a chance and isn't really focused on Satan arriving. He thinks if they can just sort out the Gabriel stuff and get all of these people out of the bookshop that he and Crowley can then have some time alone to speak to one another openly. Aziraphale very much wants to check that Crowley is alright after having been missing all night and to tell him what happened with The Metatron and get him on board with the plan. There never is time for this, though, because Satan shows up with the coffee before they ever have a moment alone.

The only alternative to it not being Satan is it being exactly what it appears to be-- The Metatron, apologetic, saying all the things that Aziraphale has always wanted Heaven to say. Aziraphale is not an idiot and has the feeling that this is not really The Metatron. He does want it to be The Metatron because Aziraphale is still feeling like he cannot provide the forgiveness of Heaven and the protection from Satan that Crowley needs. Aziraphale loves Crowley and all he wants is be able to end the pain in Crowley that he thinks he's not enough to stop.

What Aziraphale's own anxieties and insecurities try to tell him is a lie is what Crowley tells him, which is that that all Crowley truly needs is Aziraphale. Aziraphale's own anger and pain over what's happened to Crowley gets in the way of him seeing that he really provides for Crowley all of the things he thinks he isn't providing. It is those things he thinks he cannot provide that Satan offers Aziraphale-- that's what makes it's a temptation.

Aziraphale is genuinely wanting to take a job offer if it is exists. He doesn't actually believe he can change Heaven or even want to try-- he turned down the job offer when it was just the job offer. He only is tempted to take it when he is told that the job offer comes with protection for Crowley. Heaven admitting they were wrong about Crowley and offering through the restoration of his status the forgiveness that Crowley pretends he doesn't crave and the restoration of that status providing Crowley with safety from Satan and Hell as a whole are the things that Aziraphale feels he cannot provide for Crowley. Remember what we said above about him being mortified that Crowley had to get Shax as their source? It's here in this bit of the story, too. He'll do anything-- give up their life on Earth, work the worst job imaginable for all of eternity-- to be able give Crowley the peace and protection that he feels he's been unable to for their entire, very long, existence.

Still, though? Aziraphale would love it if this was really The Metatron... but he's pretty damn sure that it's not.

Aziraphale knows how unlikely that would be. He does know that change is possible in some people-- he's been watching that all week with Gabriel-- but he also knows that he let Gabriel into the bookshop largely because he has seen in Gabriel the likelihood of there being a Jim lurking under the surface for a long time.

The Metatron is a very different story.

There are also a series of things that happen upon Coffee Dude's arrival that seem really off and further suggest to Aziraphale that this is really far more likely to actually be Satan. We looked at some of those in other metas but to quickly recap: the dark suit, the temptation coffee, the quoting of Mary Poppins, the fact that none of the angels can recognize him and he has to go to Crowley to be identified and, most significantly in my mind, that Aziraphale seems aware of what happens when Satan possesses Crowley to get Crowley to let Aziraphale go with Satan alone. Aziraphale knows that it's very out-of-character behavior for Crowley to allow Aziraphale to go anywhere unprotected with someone dangerous like that. He catches Satan looking at him-- and then heads for the door immediately, as if to get Satan away from Crowley. He's almost certain he knows what just happened and who this is but he is a bit desperate to be wrong.

Coffee Dude being Satan also explains other things about Crowley's own ideas about what is happening in The Final 15. The reason why Crowley can't entertain the idea of it being anybody but The Metatron is because Satan was in his head and made him believe that he was looking at The Metatron and no one else. Crowley doesn't even know that Satan was there. It's also why he just stays put and mutters "they'll be back soon" to himself, instead of following Aziraphale and "The Metatron" across the street. It is also likely why Crowley appears to have forgotten that he can freeze time, which would have allowed him and Aziraphale to speak freely, and, instead, makes an entire plan based around their hidden language. Since freezing time is how they were able to help Adam in S1, if I were Satan? I'd make sure Crowley forgot that useful trick in S2. (Even if he didn't, Crowley could have just literally anxiety'd himself into forgetting it.)

So, Aziraphale gets back from being tempted by Satan and he's pretty sure that is, in fact, what's going on... but he's also secretly hoping that maybe he's wrong and it's not. He's still thinking they need to go with his plan to protect himself from falling because this is very likely to be Satan but if he's wrong about what's going on? If it's really The Metatron? Then, Aziraphale would take this offer because he feels like, if he had this to offer, then he would maybe have something of enough value to offer the person he loves... a person who always says that he is enough as he is but Aziraphale has been watching Crowley suffer for literal eons and it's all gotten to be too much.

So, Aziraphale gets back and this is where the first miscommunication happens-- one of the big ones that makes it so that Aziraphale doesn't hear Crowley's coded speech for the entire rest of the scene.

As Aziraphale arrives back in the shop, Maggie and Nina are just leaving. It's the middle of Nina's morning rush at the coffee shop and neither woman tells Aziraphale why they were in the shop. Aziraphale, like many of us in the audience lol, cannot figure out why the fuck these two are back here. Their decision to come back to the shop during Nina's rush hour after they were just endangered in the bookshop moments earlier is puzzling to us audience members... and we are seeing a fuller picture! So, it's mind-boggling to Aziraphale who, without the knowledge that we have that shows it was Maggie and Nina's own, weird idea, arrives at the idea that the likeliest conclusion is that Crowley asked the ladies to come back. It honestly makes more sense than Nina leaving her work for no apparent reason, right?

So, why does Aziraphale think Crowley would do that?

Because Maggie is the closest thing they have to family and Crowley is old-fashioned in the right ways. He wouldn't ask for Maggie's permission but Aziraphale knows that he'd consider telling Maggie of intent to ask Aziraphale to marry him, especially after the week they've all just had. Given that, moments before, they all just saw that Gabriel and Beez are a thing, Aziraphale sees Maggie and Nina leave the shop with nothing but little looks and "we're just leaving" and "I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss" and he thinks Crowley told them that he's going to propose and, of course, what happens right after this to reinforce this idea?!?!

Crowley stands up, takes off his glasses, looks charmingly nervous, and says that he supposes that he's "got something to say."

If you were Aziraphale in this moment, with everything happening so fast and no time to breathe (by the villains' design), and you had just had your world tilted on its axis several times in the last hour, and you and Crowley had been waiting a thousand lifetimes to feel like it might be safe to try to be openly together, and Crowley stood up in the living room in which you've spent countless nights, moments after seeming to tell your daughters that he was going to propose, you absolutely would think that Crowley is trying to ask you to marry him.

The problem is that Aziraphale sees Crowley trying to propose and he thinks that Crowley doesn't think anything is wrong.

He thinks that Crowley doesn't see a threat at all... how could he think there's something wrong, if he's been focused this whole time on proposing marriage and not on the fact that everything is completely and utterly bonkers and Some Sir Derek Jacobi Character is skulking about with creepy coffee?

Aziraphale so loves Crowley and wants to marry him that he gives him a pass on proposing while the wolves are circling instead of doing what Aziraphale really needs him to do, which is help him Bildad up a plan... all the while not realizing, because of the speed of everything and the misinterpretation of clues and context, that the marriage proposal itself is Bildad's bloody plan.

Aziraphale thinks that he has to *tell* Crowley that there's a threat and what it is. As a result, he's not listening to what Crowley is saying at the start of this scene. Neither, really, is the audience, at first. I think even us people theorizing overlook the bit below; I actually noticed this last of everything related to this theory. What Aziraphale isn't fully listening to and what we think is just adorable, nervous babble contains a really, really, really interesting bit of information:

If I don't start talking now, I won't ever start talking, right? Yes, so--

While Crowley is actually trying to tell Aziraphale here of an intent to use coded speech, it's the last line he gets out before Aziraphale interrupts him that tells us quite a bit about their relationship. After having seen this scene in full through its mention of nightingales confirming coded speech, we know that Crowley's proposal is a coded plan. We don't hear it in full until later in the scene but Crowley was trying to start it back here at the beginning of the scene and, when he does, he is expressing regret for how it's going to be phrased. He doesn't want to propose to Aziraphale like this but he doesn't think they have a choice. Listen to how he phrases that though: If I don't start talking now, I won't ever start talking...

Crowley is apologizing for the proposal he's about to say that isn't the one he'd really like to give but is the only way he can deliver this plan and that, if he doesn't deliver this plan, he thinks Aziraphale is going to die, and that will mean that Crowley will never get the chance to actually propose the way that he'd really like to-- someday, when it's just them and they're in the better place for it, which is also why he hasn't in the last four years since S1. What's so interesting about this is that Crowley is saying to Aziraphale that he wants to ask him to marry him one day and he is doing so in such a way that he knows this is not new information to Aziraphale. It actually winds up suggesting that they both have already, to some extent, talked about the fact that, if they ever found a way, they would like to marry one another. It's said by Crowley so casually that it is suggestive of an understanding that already exists between he and Aziraphale and is further evidence of the fact that they are already a couple.

Right, so... Aziraphale isn't hearing this because Aziraphale thinks that Crowley doesn't see a problem. He tries the downward hands of "not right now" and glancing out the window towards Coffee Dude as signals to tell Crowley not to propose right now. He both needs Crowley to stop because there is a bigger threat happening in the moment and also because Aziraphale is at about 90-95% certainty that it's Satan outside. He and Crowley have spent thousands of years hiding the fact that they are lovers from Satan because Satan would kill Crowley for it. Aziraphale is also trying to get Crowley to stop proposing just also because their relationship is theirs and he knows that Crowley wouldn't want Satan as an audience to it. (Factor that into Aziraphale's response to the kiss as well...)

We get that shot of Aziraphale just melting as Crowley continues to speak because Crowley all sweetly nervous and proposing is adorable no matter what else is going on but then Aziraphale has interrupt him so he can tell him what he thinks is happening. This is where the conversation then gets fucked in a way that means that Crowley doesn't hear a shred of any of Aziraphale's coded language, either.

Aziraphale, stressed out from all of this, makes an error here which, as Muriel would say, will prove just how human he is. It is, in fact, this very simple, very human error that will help to completely fuck up this conversation and keep Crowley from understanding Aziraphale's side of it just as much as Aziraphale cannot understand his.

That error involves this:

What Aziraphale is trying to do here is to signal to Crowley that he has to stop proposing because there is danger and to start to convey to him what he thinks that threat is. Aziraphale needs a coded way to do this. It has to sound organic in front of Coffee Dude. This means Aziraphale has to reference something to Crowley from their shared past that is like what is happening in this moment in 2.06 without saying so directly in a way that would alert Coffee Dude to shenanigans being afoot but that is conveyed in a way that Aziraphale feels that Crowley is bound to understand.

There is one night from their history together that they both absolutely know by heart and that had a situation that parallels what is happening in The Final 15. It's the big one that we've been watching unfold across both seasons now and so is likely to factor into this big plot twist of Aziraphale's fall here: 1941.

Like Crowley will be later when he references nightingales, Aziraphale is certain that if he references any part of 1941 that Crowley will be sure to know what he is saying, even if other factors actually prevent that from being true.

What Aziraphale is trying to reference from 1941 is this:

He interrupts Crowley with a version of what we can recognize as "that lovely American expression-- played for suckers!" Why this moment?

Because Aziraphale is trying to use the similar situation of the paralleling Greta as a comparison to what's happening here in The Final 15. While Aziraphale was fooled by the Nazi Greta-- believing her to really be the Allied Rose-- he is the one who is correct in the 2023 of S2. It's Crowley, who correctly identified the Nazis correctly in 1941, who is mistaken about who is watching them in 2.06. Aziraphale, though, is almost sure he's correct this time but he needs Crowley's help either way and he definitely needs Crowley to see that there's even the possibility of a Greta-like plot happening with it seeming to be The Metatron but it's really Satan.

(Not to mention that we've seen both Coffee Dude and The Nazi Zombie Flesheaters watching Crowley and Aziraphale through the bookshop window in S2.)

So, Aziraphale thinks: ah ha! I shall reference the moment in the church when it turned out that Rose was really Greta and, because this romantic night of ours is forever etched in Crowley's memory, he'll understand what I mean and know that we need to speak using our hidden language!

The problem, as you might remember, is that this is actually the only part of 1941 that Crowley doesn't remember because, to quote Crowley talking to Gabriel about Aziraphale earlier in S2:

He wasn't there, you see...

Crowley hadn't actually entered the church at this moment in 1941. *We* can see what Aziraphale is going for but Crowley has no fucking clue that Aziraphale just said to him: I think the plot is Greta in the church and I'm going to be using our hidden language!

All Crowley hears is: please stop asking me to marry you because I need to tell you about the convo I just had with my abusive dad who hates you yay so excited please hold that thought of matrimony, sweetheart!

So... Crowley holds the damn thought. 😂

Aziraphale, meanwhile, thinks that this would all be so much easier if they could just speak openly and he would like Crowley to freeze time so they can do what they did with Adam and speak freely and make a plan. As others have noticed, he starts signaling to Crowley the "time-out" hand signal, covering it up from Satan with other gesticulations. He's also saying "The Metatron you know" aloud (flipped around: "You know The Metatron"), in an effort to convey to Crowley that he believes the being watching them is really Satan.

The problem is that Aziraphale has just asked Crowley to stop proposing. He's just asked him for a time out in discussing their relationship. Even if Crowley has just forgotten that he can freeze time-- organically or as a result of Satan-- it's almost besides the point here how or why he has forgotten it because he's just not thinking of it in this moment... because he thinks Aziraphale is saying that he needs a timeout on talking about their relationship. He just kind of half-nods and lets Aziraphale continue and it's at this moment that Aziraphale is just like...

Because, if Crowley doesn't freeze time, they now have to do all of this in a coded way with Satan watching and that means that Aziraphale is about to Ineffable Husbands Speak for his damn life here... and his task with it is actually a lot harder than what we said Crowley accomplished above.

Aziraphale believes that he told Crowley he was using coded speech when he referenced 1941 and that Crowley will be listening for it. So, he now thinks he has to convey the following things to Crowley as soon as possible, all using hidden language (all of which can be found in what he says to Crowley following this, as we'll look at)...

...that he's pretty sure that the being watching them is not The Metatron but Satan; that he thinks he might be falling but he's not totally sure; that he needs Crowley's help to protect him from falling; that Crowley can help him by possessing him; that it's okay to possess him and he has permission; that they can cover the possession with a hug; and that if, in fact, it turns out that he's wrong and that is The Metatron, well! Great news! Aziraphale has been offered a job that Crowley is going to hate but that Aziraphale is excited about because he thinks it can get Crowley what he needs that Aziraphale can't give him so yay!...

...and Aziraphale has to convey all of that using coded speech that is based on nothing but recapping to Crowley the offer just presented to him by Coffee Dude.

Whereas Crowley at least was given a few minutes while Aziraphale was with Satan to come up with something to say that dovetailed with the topic-- to come up with the proposal so he could use amorous language to talk about possession under the surface-- Aziraphale is forced into freestyling into coded speech a fuckton of information using a topic that does not actually lend itself to words with possession-related meaning in their vocabulary anywhere near as easily.

Yet... He does it. I know he does because I took apart everything he says in this scene when I figured out what Crowley was saying and that's actually how I arrived at this theory. Just like with Crowley, while we could go word-for-word here, I'll just give you a sampling of it, but it holds up throughout.

First things first, he says that he thinks he might have misjudged The Metatron. Misjudged = Miss Judge, who is God. He's trying to say to Crowley that he thinks God is judging him aka that he might be falling. Just like with Crowley later on the scene, he uses Gabriel's name to say "message" and then lists Gabriel's entire job title in the sentence because it's actually a great way to explain the plan: Supreme Archangel and Commander of The Heavenly Host. To archangel is to be above angel, which is what Crowley calls Aziraphale-- to top him, to possess him. Crowley would be The Commander of The Heavenly Host. The Heavenly Host is Aziraphale-- hosted the party last night, hosting a party in his body anytime now if Crowley'd just hurry up and possess him already lol. Commander actually breaks down to "man who is with" but it also means someone in charge so it's Aziraphale telling Crowley that he'd be in control of it and that Aziraphale is okay with that, as he trusts him.

What happens pretty quickly, though, is that we start to flash between Aziraphale recapping to Crowley in the bookshop what Satan said to him and then a scene at Marguerite's in which we are, apparently, hearing those words be said. In reality, because we keep going back and forth on Aziraphale's "and then I said"/"and then he said"s, what we're being shown in the Marguerite's scene is, word-for-word, really what Aziraphale is saying to Crowley back in the bookshop.

If Aziraphale wanted to just tell Crowley what was said with no coded speech, he could have actually done it in a single, paraphrasing sentence. Instead, he plays off like he's excited-- and, complicating matters, he is a little excited if it turns out that it is The Metatron, if only because of what he can offer Crowley-- and he uses that to be able to seem like he's babbling a recap of what happened when, in reality, he's very specifically choosing certain words to convey the problem that he's trying to make Crowley see and the plan he has to survive it.

What this means is that when we flash over to Marguerite's, the words coming out of the mouth of Sir Derek Jacobi are actually the words being spoken by Aziraphale to Crowley in the bookshop, along with what Aziraphale says that he said in this scene. The whole scene is in Ineffable Husbands Speak. The plan is repeated in here a few places-- among them, there is that the word exploits actually contains ploit, which means to fall and is Aziraphale trying to really specifically say to Crowley what he thinks the threat is, and many other words being used like this. The one I want to point out, though, is my favorite and also tells what Aziraphale's plan to cover the possession was:

There are huge plans afoot...

This is really Aziraphale trying to convey the plan to Crowley and he uses the word plan in here, right? What kind of plan?

Huge plans afoot... What is a hug plan related to a foot in Crowley and Aziraphale's history?

It's Bildad the Shuite ("need any shoes?") and the simple embrace...

So, the first part of what Aziraphale says is conveying that he wants Crowley to possess him because he thinks it's possible that it's Satan outside and that he's falling and he uses that other time the two of them, from across a room, snuck something by those watching them to save lives to describe how they can do that. Aziraphale's idea for how to cover up the possession is for them to hug-- it's the simple embrace that Crowley came up with having Job and Sitis do to cover up the magical reappearance of their kids. Aziraphale believes it is Satan outside so a hug is bad enough, as far as he's concerned. He wouldn't make the plan involve a kiss because that would be suggesting that Crowley kiss him in front of his abuser and their relationship is private and theirs and Aziraphale knows neither of them would want that.

So, yeah, both Crowley and Aziraphale are trying to reference the damn Job minisode to one another at different times in 2.06 and neither of them see the other one doing so...

So, how does this all fall apart for Aziraphale then?

How does he manage to brilliantly use a recapping of the temptation job offer to convey what he thinks is happening and summarize a plan to stop it in secret to a point that we can see what he was going for right there in the words he chooses to say... but then everything still falls apart?

Because Crowley isn't listening for it at all. Not only did the 1941 reference mistake mean that Crowley is not primed to listen for coded speech, Aziraphale's genuine enthusiasm for what he might be able to offer Crowley overshadows the fact that Aziraphale genuinely does not want to go to Heaven or take this job. Crowley, still thinking that Aziraphale doesn't see a threat to him because he thinks the only threat is The Book of Life and that Aziraphale doesn't see it, believes everything Aziraphale says as Aziraphale says it.

As a result, his response is: "And you told him just where he could stick it, right?"

It's at this that the score comes back into the scene, having fallen silent for Aziraphale's words. It also falls silent again when Crowley is wording during his proposal; it's so quiet that you can actually hear "this planet" echo in the room. The score here has a foreboding sense to it that matches Aziraphale's response, which is that tight "not at all" full of ohfuckohfuckohofuckohfuck...

The score is doom-y because Aziraphale is realizing that Crowley did not hear a single word of wordplay in Aziraphale's job offer explanation. They are still at square one when it comes to communication and Crowley still doesn't know that, ironically? YES, Aziraphale did tell The Metatron just where he could stick it-- that's what actually started all of this!

Only, Aziraphale can't outrightly say that because the conversation path there then only leads to discussion of what could be happening as a result of telling off The Metatron, which, in a bit of truly insane irony, would not help Aziraphale get across a plan for stopping what is happening as a result of him having told off The Metatron.

So, Crowley just starts to express his upset at this ("we're better than that") while Aziraphale tries to figure out how to regroup. They are now boxed into the topic of the job offer, really, and Aziraphale's one chance to speak long enough to convey the plan through using the job offer recap as the surface-level speech topic is now gone. There's also no easy way to change the subject to something else to try again without it looking really obvious so Aziraphale is forced to stick with this.

He's also boxed into a corner here because he can't sound like he's against Heaven because they're being watched. No matter who it is watching them, if Aziraphale sounds too much like he's caught on to what's going on, that'll be the end of their chance to make a plan happen together... and that just might result in Aziraphale falling.

Aziraphale is now forced to try to repeat aspects of the plan in fragments in replies to what Crowley is saying in hope that Crowley will hear it and catch on and it... backfires.

Backfires is probably an understatement, actually. It implodes, pretty dramatically.

What Aziraphale is trying to do is reassure Crowley that he's still on their side while also not sound like he's against Heaven and, if Crowley had been listening for coded speech, this would have easily worked. In Crowley's ranting response, he winds up blurting out that they (Beez) offered Crowley his job back in Hell and he said no-- something that Crowley should have mentioned back on Monday, when it happened-- but Aziraphale is mainly thinking of the plan he needs to get Crowley to understand and enact, as well as how he needs to use words that don't sound like he's against Heaven. He winds up saying, as we know:

"Of course you said no-- you're the bad guys." You're. The. Disguise...

Aziraphale is trying to say "you're the disguise", meaning that the fucking plan is for Crowley to possess Aziraphale and that's how they're going to disguise Aziraphale to keep him from falling. They're going to make Heaven think he's still an angel when he's really a demon because of Crowley possessing him. Aziraphale is absolutely grasping at things here because this barely makes sense without Crowley understanding what Aziraphale said in the offer recap earlier but Aziraphale is throwing phrases in here to try to hope that he will start to catch on because this is basically all he can do at this point.

The reason why Crowley doesn't hear it, though? Or hear anything remotely close to it? Not even just because he's not listening for coded speech here but because of Aziraphale's past of saying things he doesn't mean when he's upset. It's suddenly getting kind of like The Bandstand Argument up in here and Aziraphale is frustrated because he didn't actually mean for it to be. He's trying to tell Crowley something, even if he understands why Crowley might not hear it.

It's here where this takes a bit of a heartbreaking turn. Aziraphale isn't just frustrated that Crowley can't hear what he's saying-- he feels badly about it because Crowley taking all of this at face value means that Crowley is getting hurt by what is being said and Aziraphale doesn't want him to be hurt. He tries to fix it and, unintentionally, makes it a whole lot worse.

Aziraphale uses three words-- light, truth, and good-- to seemingly describe the side of Heaven. In Crowley and Aziraphale's speak, they have before used Heaven/Up for Aziraphale as shorthand to Crowley's Hell/Down. Aziraphale is trying to sound like he's all yay Heaven! because they're being watched but "the side of Heaven" here is actually Aziraphale and the side that he is on... and that side is Crowley's side-- their side together-- because the words that Aziraphale uses to describe that side of Heaven aka his side? The side of light, of truth, of good?

Yeah, those are all words he's used to describe Crowley before...

Aziraphale is using language here that is associated with Heaven but that he sees as being associated more with Crowley and, again, if Crowley were listening for wordplay, he would have understood this. He's not, though, so he takes it as Aziraphale just used positive, loving words he's used to describe Crowley to describe the place that has tortured them both for millennia... and he is, understandably, fucking horrified.

What Aziraphale was going for is to say in a way that could be overheard that Crowley is his side and he did so by using words of Heaven to describe Crowley and you know where he got that idea from? From this guy and what he said just moments earlier still being in Aziraphale's head:

Crowley is Aziraphale's Heaven. That's what he was trying to tell him. Unlike Gabriel and Beez, though, Aziraphale is being watched, so he had to phrase it in a coded way and hoped that Crowley would understand. He did not because this is the No Nightingales season lol.

Instead, Crowley's reaction-- "When Heaven ends all life on this Earth..."-- then causes Aziraphale to realize something that confuses him completely:

Crowley thinks there is something wrong.

Crowley's panic-stricken and all "tell me you said no!" and Aziraphale is like... *blinks*... honey, I came through the door four minutes ago and you reacted like I just got back from picking up my dry cleaning and started asking me to marry you and now you're acting like *something is wrong* wtf?!? If you thought something was wrong, why were you *proposing*?!

Of course, Aziraphale can't tell him he said no, and he's actually getting a bit angry, as well as confused. He's upset that Crowley thinks he'd just leave and that he's not appreciating that Aziraphale could maybe have an answer to their problems with going to Heaven (it's not really an answer but emotions aren't logical) and he's starting to get his back up a bit. We've reached the line that becomes the turning point:

If I'm in charge, I can make a difference.

For what it's worth, this line does wordplay out to something that goes along with what Aziraphale is trying to convey, but... it's wordplay, but it's also not. Aziraphale's lines that follow are also attempts to recap and convey the plan, like this one is, but there's just a great deal of surface level truth to this particular line.

Aziraphale still needs Crowley to possess him to keep him from falling but he's also thinking about the fact that maybe he'll have been wrong, maybe this'll have been The Metatron, maybe it's true-- if he's in charge, he could make a difference. It expresses the lack of power that he feels when it comes to the outside factors impacting their relationship. The fact that those feelings are very, very genuine-- and Crowley knows that better than anyone-- just winds up helping to make it seem not like there's also a wordplay level at all to Crowley.

It's here that Crowley basically starts to pray and we see how that response has visibly confused Aziraphale. It would because Aziraphale, again, has no fucking idea lol what Crowley thinks is happening. The moment that Aziraphale said that he could make a difference if he was in charge, Crowley realized that Aziraphale had every intention of going with The Metatron and he went into Defcon Whatever The Highest Number Is Panic Mode because if Aziraphale went with The Metatron without possessing him first? He was going to get Book of Life'd! He was going to die!

Aziraphale is left looking confused by Crowley being so distraught that he basically starts calling on God for help because, ya know, four minutes ago? To Aziraphale? Crowley was like oh hey, you're back, so where would you like to honeymoon? and now he's like Our Frances, Who Art Probably Elsewhere From Heaven...

Aziraphale is like what the fuck is going on?

Crowley then speeds through a sentence at 100 mph (because anxiety) where he says he didn't get to say what he was going to before and he thinks he better say it now... and then, like a record with a stuck needle, he starts to propose to Aziraphale again.

We know why-- he's got to tell him the plan!-- but, to Aziraphale? This is literally the most batshit insane thing he can imagine.

Aziraphale is pretty sure that's Satan outside and Satan who attacked Crowley in front of him, in their house, while Crowley was in Aziraphale's own desk chair, and Satan who is going to tempt him into falling and if it's not? It's The Metatron, and the offer being genuine would mean that they could find a way out of this mess, if only Crowley would listen to him, and what is Crowley doing when Aziraphale needs him most?

When he really needs Crowley to hear what he was trying to say and give him the help he needs?

When who he needs is 1941 Crowley-- the Crowley that Aziraphale gets all the time? The one who gently reassures him and helps him through all the ups and downs of being a professional conjurer? But who he's getting is Alpha Centauri! Crowley, who isn't listening to what it is that Aziraphale needs and whose inability to hear it hurts?

Aziraphale doesn't know what it is that Crowley is so afraid of but the longer the proposal that Aziraphale cannot parse any additional meaning out of goes on, the more clear it is that Crowley is falling apart. His voice starts to go; he's in tears. Aziraphale is upset that Crowley is upset and would give anything to just talk to him the way that they usually do. He can't understand how Crowley doesn't seem to see that they're being watched and that there's a threat and just keeps going on about their relationship when the threat of Coffee Dude is literally looming right outside.

Aziraphale eventually starts responding to Crowley's proposal lines-- all of which, as we've said, are a plan for Aziraphale to possess him, repeated in different ways, over and over-- with similar pleas of his own. They're literally gesturing at one another at times, alongside the words, the suggestion that each other take possession of the other.

Come with me. *hand gesture from Crowley back to himself* To Heaven...

Because of the highly sexualized way in which Crowley and Aziraphale talk about possession, there is an element of comedy to this incredibly depressing scene once you see the hidden language at play.

The only way for both of them to talk about possession in a hidden way is to use vocabulary related to sex. What ends up happening as a result is that their whole persuasive arguments back and forth to one another wind up becoming sexually euphemistic to a point that they are basically just finding different ways to refer to sex and suggest that the other take them...

...and neither of them realize this because they do it so fucking often when flirting that it's not unusual enough for them to flag it as off. 😂

Aziraphale is standing there, likely hearing every innuendo in Crowley's proposal, and simply thinking that Crowley is asking him to marry him with a bit of an Ineffable Husbands Speak twist to it because of course he would, right? They just speak like this to one another all the time now so, if the context isn't emphatically suggesting 'hey, I am using this cant vocabulary of ours to convey a hidden message', neither of them are actually listening for one.

Meanwhile, this is Crowley, getting so hysterical that, at one point, he almost starts to laugh when he's saying "an us" (anus) and has, therefore, officially, reached the point of just yelling "ASS" at Aziraphale in an effort to get himself possessed so that Aziraphale won't die because they are currently trapped in a total fucking nightmare so dark and depressing that it is also kind of funny.

This, I'd imagine, is also why he can't go any further here and is just like "you in me, what do you say?" like please get this, angel, or I'm going to jump off the roof...

Meanwhile, Aziraphale, earlier, was just as euphemistic:

It'll be just like the old times. Only even nicer.

Old comes from auld, which meant adult and nourishing. Only (one); even (emphasizing a balanced sense of power; a word of reassurance); nicer, which you can read about here.

They get so turned around that Crowley even shouts the word "toxic" at Aziraphale about Heaven and Hell in such a way that it comes out as "TALK-ic", in an effort to try to say I'm trying to talk to you and get him to hear other levels of meaning in what is being said.

He's not the only one. There's also this:

Crowley actually doesn't understand what Aziraphale is offering him. Not really. He thinks he does and so does the audience, if they don't see what Aziraphale is trying to say. Crowley does know what it's like to struggle with Heaven and he understands that aspect of what Aziraphale is going through but what he isn't seeing here is that Aziraphale is specifically referencing the offer because, like Crowley will do with mentioning nightingales a moment after this, Aziraphale is trying to call back to to things he said earlier so that Crowley will listen for hidden language. Crowley's quick dismissal of it shuts down another avenue for Aziraphale to try again to say the plan and Aziraphale is again hurt that Crowley only thinks the surface level of what is happening is the only thing happening-- that he thinks Aziraphale truly would want to go to Heaven.

If Crowley knew what was truly happening? If he understood that Aziraphale was trying to say that he thought he was falling and needed help? You know Crowley would have done anything. He'd have gone along with Aziraphale's plan and possessed him. They could have gone together in Aziraphale's body into the elevator. It wouldn't have mattered if it was Satan or The Metatron-- they would have been there to protect each other and faced it together.

While it doesn't matter for the plot of S2 whether or not The Book of Life is real because what really matters is that Crowley thinks it is, there is a lot of suggestion that, at least in the way that Crowley and Beez believe it to be real, it doesn't actually exist. It's anxiety. It's as real as Crowley made it to be. If he had talked about it with Aziraphale, he likely would have found out it's not true. Aziraphale isn't worried about it in The Final 15, despite being threatened by Michael with it, which suggests that it really is balderdash and complete piffle. Michael is never shown having gotten the authority to do it by The Metatron and Michael is pretty impressionable and could have been one of the angels Beez and Crowley once teased into believing in it. Beez's embarrassed reaction in 2.01 suggested that they believed that Crowley was correct about it when he said his reaction was that it wasn't real.

It likely means that Crowley's entire plan in The Final 15 is for a threat that doesn't actually exist.

It means that Crowley's own anxiety and not being open with Aziraphale and talking about it kept him from being a partner to Aziraphale when Aziraphale needed him more than ever and made him blind to hearing what Aziraphale was saying he truly needed.

That "I need you" moment hits a little differently now, doesn't it?

If Crowley walks out the door, so does Aziraphale's ability to not fall.

When you think about it... of course it does, right?

How do you not fall? You let in the love of those around you.

It's also how you get back up if you do fall. Everything goes down, as Gabriel observed, but the flies go up. So do the birds-- the nightingales. Just not in S2.

Their insecurities can be summed up by how Aziraphale has never fully understood how Crowley means bookshop. It's the one word between them that they each think the other fully understands but they don't. They get the sexually euphemistic way that Aziraphale uses it ("...but we both get plenty of use out of it, don't we?") but it really comes down to how they each see Aziraphale. To Aziraphale, the bookshop that is metaphorically him is a compromise. It's not good enough. To Crowley? The bookshop is everything because the bookshop is Aziraphale and the place Aziraphale made for them. The clever idea his clever partner had for them. The place where Crowley feels loved and safe. It's all he needs, just as it is, but Aziraphale thinks it's not enough and wants to be able to offer more.

Aziraphale thinks they're talking about the bookshop itself in 2.06 ("oh, Crowley, nothing lasts forever") because it's been on his mind all season. It's the bookshop from which Aziraphale would like to move, and if you think that Crowley's proposal was ill-timed, ooh boy lol, this is not the best time to start to tell that one, particular person you'd like to go to that cottage by the sea, Aziraphale... but Crowley?

He thinks, of course, that Aziraphale means their fucking relationship and on go the sunglasses...

...in reality, part of why Aziraphale feels stuck in the same daily round of the bookshop is because of Crowley's attachment to it. It's because of Crowley having been devastated by the fire. Aziraphale thinks it would be better for them if they could find a way to move, if he can find a way to get out of the mess that is the embassy bookshop situation, but he hasn't yet found a way to talk to Crowley about that and tell him he'd like to them to go live together and it's only coming up now... when he's otherwise basically said he's leaving for Heaven. As a result, Crowley thinks that the nothing that lasts forever in question is their relationship.

Their words are so fucked at this point that Crowley winds up thinking that Aziraphale just said that their millennia-long love affair was a fun lark but it's over now that he's going to take over Gabriel's job.

Aziraphale's anxiety that Crowley likes the safety he could provide with the bookshop-- if not ever enough of it-- more than he loves him as a person; Crowley's anxiety that Aziraphale would choose Heaven and not him. Both of them knowing that it's insecurity talking-- Crowley even believing that he must have the short end of the stick enough to stop leaving and stay when Aziraphale asks him to come back-- but they're both so confused from what they think has been said during this scene that they're extra-vulnerable.

When Crowley tries "no nightingales" and the kiss as a last-ditch effort to get Aziraphale to understand The Book of Life as a threat and possess him, it doesn't work. Just like how Aziraphale also fails to get Crowley to understand that it is, likely, Satan that is watching them and that Aziraphale is about to fall without Crowley possessing him. What makes the kiss so heartbreaking and romantic is, actually, the fact that it is such a fucking root canal of a thing. Why?

Because both of them were waiting for the other to understand and possess one another. There's 90 billion interminable seconds of neither of them actually really kissing one another because both of them have a plan that involves possession for which this kiss could provide cover, even if it's only Crowley whose plan actually involved a kiss.

The kiss is so awkward because it's a pretense for something else, more than it is a kiss they both just want to share for the sake of kissing, and they both know they're being watched. Aziraphale is more in shock over the kiss happening because he has emotional whiplash from a proposal to a break up to being told he didn't love Crowley to a kiss out of nowhere. Crowley is basically not moving because he's kissing Aziraphale in the hopes that Aziraphale has gotten the plan and will start kissing him back and possessing him any second now. This renders Crowley basically a passive participant in the kiss. He might have been the one that started it but, once he touches his lips to Aziraphale, he basically doesn't move because that would be against the point of why he's kissing Aziraphale.

The same things that cause people to think that this looks like a pair of eighth graders trying to kiss for the first time lol are also just that way because of the plot reasons why this kiss is happening more than the emotional ones. The circumstances involved mean that this kiss actually says exactly nothing about how they normally kiss.

Crowley never tries to deepen it-- or, even, honestly, really to kiss Aziraphale much at all-- which honestly... was probably confusing the living fuck out of Aziraphale. Imagine for a moment that they are long-time lovers who have been kissing for thousands of years. How incredibly fucking weird would it be for your partner who knows how to bring the vavoom to go from proposing you get married, to ranting about Heaven, to proposing again in a series of sexual euphemisms, to telling you that you never loved him and that he's leaving you, only to then turn around, walk back, and give you this bizarrely dry kiss, the likes of which the two of you have never shared in all your worst days?

Not to mention that, if you're Aziraphale? You need Crowley to possess you or you will fall to Hell. This kiss could have covered that, as insane as all this emotional up-and-down of the last few minutes has been. This kiss could have saved your life and it doesn't because you can't get Crowley to get past his own stuff enough to hear you-- no wonder you're pissed enough to say, angrily, that you forgive him for it. Falling to Hell is going to mean that they take your memories. It's a form of death first before you're a demon. The only way to avoid that would have been for him to possess you and he wouldn't. Is it because he doesn't know? Is it because he just won't-- that it's too much for him, after everything? If you're Aziraphale, you don't know.

All Aziraphale knows is that all of this hurts and, to make everything all even worse, that kiss was such a mess (and it's likely the last one) that it feels like they might have broken what was between them with it and that, alone, is reason enough for Aziraphale's reaction when they pull back from it. Is it any wonder, then, that Aziraphale after that kiss is just a fucking mess?

That he is this close to saying the I love you that he feels but he's also so fucking angry that his emotional devastation flips within a few seconds to frustration and the all-too-self-aware "I forgive you"... because that's what this is all about. That's what Crowley, feeling unforgivable, has always seemed like he needs to heal and the thing that Aziraphale doesn't have the power to give him. He's not enough to end Crowley's pain-- unforgivable, that's what Crowley is, according to Crowley.

He's just not enough for Crowley, period, is what Aziraphale thinks. Not good enough. It doesn't matter how much Aziraphale loves him, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough to overcome the pain of Heaven having cast Crowley out. That's all he wants to do-- end Crowley's pain. Make Heaven say they were wrong and give Crowley the peace he deserves and the safety that Aziraphale feels like he can't offer him on his own.

Crowley, in the end, goes out the door, rather than acknowledge that he knows why Aziraphale feels this way. Aziraphale is left gasping "no" and touching his lips over what he thinks will be their last kiss... because Crowley is gone and also because he's likely going to fall now. The option for that to not to happen went out the door with Crowley.

Satan comes back in right afterwards and we get the scenes that see Aziraphale slip towards that fall very quickly without Crowley there. The bookshop goes to Muriel and Aziraphale almost refuses the temptation and goes to Crowley but, like Beez, upon the realization that The Book of Life likely wasn't real, Aziraphale sees Satan twist the knife by flattering him and then intentionally letting him hear the "The Second Coming" comment that proves that it was all a ruse. In that moment, Aziraphale knows that they wouldn't put him in charge of Armageddon and that there is no job offer.

He's left standing there with a choice to make-- he can go to Crowley or he can get in the elevator and, if he gets into the elevator, he knows who it is for sure now who is holding open the door. He knows what awaits him, which makes it a bit of a suicide attempt, in that he knows he's in the last moments of his life, as his memories will be taken from him and he won't come back as a demon the same.

He could go to Crowley but, like Beez earlier in the season when they realized that The Book of Life wasn't real, Aziraphale is that thing we talked about at the start of this meta.

He's embarrassed.

He knows he could go to Crowley and Crowley would tell him that it was all okay and they could talk it through but Aziraphale knows now that there is no chance that he's ever going to be able to provide Crowley the kind of safety and peace that he thinks he can't provide for him and he knows that Armageddon is coming again and that they're going to have to stop it all over again and just keep living this circular nightmare forever and he can't take it anymore.

In that moment, he wants coffee but he's too worn out and, in his unpredictable predictableness, he chooses death. He doesn't truly want it but it's a relief from the same kind of suffering-- a false freedom-- and he falls for the temptation of that in the moment.

It will ultimately wind up okay. They seem to have made an accidental fly in The Bentley when Aziraphale drove it that could restore memories. There is an overthrowing of Heaven/Hell on the horizon that might even make it so that Aziraphale is the last angel who ever falls and the concept of a demon changes a bit in S3. There are ways forward but there is no plan already happening when Aziraphale gets into the elevator. He had one; so did Crowley. They tried to communicate across a space while being watched-- like in the Job minisode, like in 1941-- but, this time, they failed, and that, I think, is the point of the No Nightingales season.

Their communication gaps are really their own insecurities reflected back to them. Aziraphale, no matter what Crowley does or says, feels like he is not good and not good enough for Crowley, so he's always felt like Crowley can do better than him. He thinks he should have been able to figure out how to give them a life that's better than their bookshop compromise by now.

Aziraphale doesn't stop to think about how this really doesn't make sense... about how Crowley would never just ask him to marry him with The Metatron lurking in the street... about how he asks him to run away with him sometimes in a panic when trouble is looming, yeah, but this is different from that. This isn't run away with me to our stars, angel! but I would like to marry you.

He doesn't stop to consider that because all Aziraphale can hear is his own inner voice telling him that he should have been able to give Crowley this life a long time ago.

Meanwhile, Crowley doesn't stop to think that Aziraphale would never want to leave him and so, even if tempted by this restoration of status offer for Crowley, would not actually want to go to Heaven. He doesn't think about how they're being watched and so Aziraphale is trying to code his speech because Crowley's own biggest insecurity-- one of his worst nightmares-- is Aziraphale going full Heaven Pod Person on him.

Crowley loves a happy ending to a love story but he doesn't truly think he's ever getting one because it's always going to be too late for him-- he's damned, after all. The only happy ending to a love story for him that he'd ever want is to be with Aziraphale forever and that has seemed impossible from the start, given that he's a demon and Aziraphale is an angel. Crowley doesn't think they get a happy ending and he thinks it's his fault that they won't. He has just been trying all these years to make it so that Aziraphale doesn't get hurt in the process and now what's happening in 2.06? That he's not good, that he's unforgivable, that he's damned, is coming home to roost and he's got to watch what feels like Aziraphale on a path towards death, slipping through his fingers, with nothing Crowley can make happen to prevent it.

They both so desperately want the other to believe they are as good as they see each other as being and would do anything to convince each other of that and suffer when they feel like they're failing at it. What neither of them really fully realize, fundamentally, is that they don't need to accept labels and judgements of those who have harmed them. It's a hard thing for anyone to learn and, sometimes, they let each other in and listen to one another reiterate that they're great as they are and, other times, it gets harder and miscommunications happen as people get too stuck in their heads.

That's S2 but it won't be S3.

Aziraphale only wants Crowley's restoration of angelic status because he thinks it will make Crowley see that he's not unforgivable and because it will keep him safe from Satan if he's an angel again. Aziraphale doesn't need Crowley to be an angel to love him-- he's painted his entire damn house the color of Crowley's demonic eyes. He's absolutely mad for him, just as he is.

The same is true of how Crowley feels about Aziraphale. Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves him but he doesn't love himself-- not enough, anyway. He feels like he's a failure when he's really brilliant. He thinks he's not a good person when he's unfailingly kind. He thinks he doesn't have anything to offer Crowley when all Crowley wants is Aziraphale, exactly as he is...

The Nightingales finale in S1 is about them getting it so very right in the moment. What they say to one another is exactly what the other needs, which is what makes it so romantic. It shows how well they know one another and that, more often than not, they get it right. When a series of unfortunate events and their own anxieties pile up at the same time, though, we get the No Nightingales finale in S2 when, overwhelmed, they both let their own fears and anxieties get the better of them, and the inability to speak freely and to pause, as they usually do, and ask what each other's exactlys mean, exactly, eludes them.

And, even then, after it all falls apart? The most romantic thing is still happening because they are both still trying.

In the end, they're both still trying with the exact things the argument over Gabriel in 2.01 made it clear that they're both helping one another to work on:

Crowley stays by the car, because he's promised to stay and work through things without succumbing to fear and running away. He fucked up and walked out the door but he stays nearby, to show he loves him.

Aziraphale leaves their song to be played for Crowley, because he's promised to try not to succumb to fear and blurt out angry words he doesn't mean. He fucked up and said things he regrets but he has the car play "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", to show he loves him.

Crowley says with his actions: I am always here and I won't leave you on your own. Aziraphale says with his: You are my whole world and anything I do, I am trying to do for you.

They honestly didn't really even break up so much as both just get enormously fucking confused.

And here's where I'll leave you by mentioning one, final thing...

It actually is about 2.06 but it's a bit of foreshadowing from the final shot of 1.06, in this moment here:

Much amazing discussion has been had about the piano in the last scene in The Ritz in S1-- about how their song is being played and about how the piano lid looks like a wing and makes this scene something of a parallel to others, like Eden and Before the Beginning, that end with Crowley and Aziraphale each sheltering one another with a wing. All of that is stellar and I agree with it but I think there's one, subtle thing that gets overlooked about this piano-- and that's the piece of it that is involved in it being played in the first place.

Just as unraveling nightingales is a key to Crowley and Aziraphale's hidden language, their nightingale-themed song is being played by a human on the piano-- on piano keys. In order to access those piano keys to play the song, though? The pianist had to first do one, specific thing...

She had to access the keys by first moving back the cover that hides them when not in use and let them see the light of day. Without doing this? No piano. No piano?

No nightingales.

What is action that the pianist did to play the song in 1.06 called then, in musical terms?

Lifting. Up...

...The Fallboard.

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