#bmw fanfiction

[queermeetsthe90s]

[stxrliasfics]

this is so jeric

[oceangirl24]

Find the Word- We're back!

Thanks so much for the tag and for doing this @axolotlsupremacyowo!

Find the words you're given somewhere in your works. Then give the people you tag a set of words to find. No worries if you can't find them all.

My words: tile, gown, foundation, fuss, overlook, sniff, infinite, trouble, clay, personality

Your words:

chowder, clatter, visage, eternal, skeptical, irate, jaggernaut, lime, superhero

Tagging: @justanotherpersonwhowrites @tsunderesalty @mrsmungus @fattybattysblog @danceswithdarkspawn @udaberriwrites @the-orion-scribe @amberlide @stealing-your-kittens @violetrose-art @winterlovesong1 @aleksandriel @kayedium-writes @bees-and-sunshine @sliebman10 @mikaharuka @axolotlsupremacyowo

This is an open tag for anyone who wants to play. If you wanted be tagged and I missed you, throw something at me. If you'd like to be included in future tags, let me know!

The Return: The Christmas List

"Like, would you date someone Jon's age?"

"It would depend on the person." She could not be direct any more than he could be.

Shawn scratched his fingernail across the tile of the kitchen island, unable to look her in the eyes. "What if the person is Jon?"

The Return: Cult Fiction Revisited

The way Jon laid in the hospital bed was same the way he laid after the motorcycle accident. There were wires stuck to his chest coming up through the neck of his hospital gown. An oxygen cannula aided his breathing. The only the casts and bandages were missing.

Jon was as still and lifeless as he was back then.

Saudade: Fishing for Answers

It took Riley a long time before she could give voice to her fears. "That they'll start fighting and being unhappy with each other. I'm afraid they'll end up divorced."

Letting out a slow breath, Maya watched her breath dissipate in the cold air around them. She didn't want to admit that Riley's fear was attaching itself to her, but it was. If the foundations of two of the most solid relationships in existence could be shaken and cracked, what hope did her mom and Shawn have?

The Return: Questions and Answers Part II

"Yeah, I know the job's been bad," Cory admitted. He had been holding back his own concerns for the past several months, not wanting to alarm those close to him if he was wrong. "Listen, I'm only tellin' you this- Topanga would kill me if she knew- but sometimes I create problems at school that force Jon to come down and deal with."

Shawn didn't know whether to laugh or be upset. "Seriously?"

Cory gripped his knees with hands. "Yeah, I mean, nothing major that would cause real problems for anyone. I just make a fuss knowing he won't ignore me."

"You are kinda of hard to ignore when you make a fuss."

Saudade: Preparations

Shawn forced his attention away from the bike; they had to leave for the hospital now. He stood and pulled the key out of his pocket that Audrey had left him. The key was still on the same Pentagon keyring Jon had way back then. He checked the bike over once more to make sure everything was ready to run. That's when he noticed something was missing.

He smiled as he recalled the time he tried to take the bike to Audrey's but couldn't get it started because he overlooked a small but important detail-the key.

The Return: The Keys

"Cor, look around." Shawn gestured to the crowded place they were in. "Who don't you see here?"

Cory looked around suspiciously, then looked back at Shawn, and shrugged. "That blonde lady from the park," he said, repeating how Riley had referred to Miss Tompkins. He drew curious looks from both of the men at the table.

Shawn sniffed. "You're welcome."

Autumn in Philadelphia: Cory and Shawn's Miracle Soap: Tuesday

(the closest I have to infinite is eternal)

An ear-splitting scream shook the Matthews' house early Tuesday morning. Amy grimaced at the eternal shriek as she set a plate full of hot cakes down in the center of the kitchen table.

Birthday Wishes and Valentine Kisses: Accidental Discoveries

Shawn spun around ready to fight. This was an instinctual reaction to being approached from behind. Growing up in the Pink Flamingo Trailer Park taught him that being ready to fight was the only way to avoid being pummeled.

It was good thing he repressed the urge to blindly swing, however. If he had, he would have connected with Brad's stomach.

And he would have been in a lot of trouble.

No clay. Hmm...

Flashbacks: Better Days

While he favored the bikinis worn by the girls on MTV's Beach House, he knew Audrey would not be comfortable in one in public and they were also going to a family theme park for young kids, not the Jersey Shore. Begrudgingly he put the suit back and resumed searching.

At one point he thought he found the one- a pearlescent two-piece. He had to struggle to reach it as it was shoved in the back behind a bunch of one-piece suits with weird ruching and ruffled skirts. He was terribly disappointed when he finally got it into the light.

It wasn't even a bikini; it was an off-white one-piece.

No doubt Audrey would make this boring garment look like haute couture, but Jon couldn't stomach the idea of putting her into something so plain. He shoved it back where he found it and continued to look for something that matched her personality.

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 1 | Torn, Placed

Synopsis: An unapologetic take on you, the reader, appearing in the world of Black Myth to accompany the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 2,138

Warnings: Violence

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy and join me in the indulgence!

Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional)

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

You felt your legs screaming as your inner shirt clung to you with sweat. It’s been hours since today’s trek began and you truly would do anything to simply sink to the forest floor and cuddle with some nearby mushrooms to sleep. Despite passing some very inviting fungi you refrained from asking to rest. After all, this wasn’t your journey. It wasn’t your place to halt its progress as you wished. You felt you were enough of a burden to have added yourself to a story already written. Tired as you were, you could always rely on your own stubbornness to keep you going. 

The Destined One held out an arm, stopping you as he listened for any sounds ahead. Unlike you, his breathing wasn’t labored. You weren’t sure if he ever needed to sweat. He looked as he always did: composed, reliable, and ready with staff in hand. Watching him like this reminded you of the deep gratitude you held for him, one that came to be long before you stood by his side.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you appeared in this world. You don’t remember much other than vague flashes of memories. You were falling, tumbling, then a creature of unfathomable size found you. You remember bracing yourself as its claws promised a swift death. You saw a staff crash down on its head just as you fell unconscious. The next time you opened your eyes you were laying near a fire. Darkness and a lush forest surrounded you. Someone had draped a spare robe over you. That someone, you recognized, slept across from you sitting up; leaning against a tree. 

You remember staring at him, hands running through your hair in stunned silence. He was a character turned to life, one that you knew too well. After almost burning your hand in the fire to test the theory of a dream you pieced together the only logical conclusion to this illogical situation. One that you weren’t ready to accept. Your thoughts and rising panic were interrupted by the Keeper of Blackwind Mountain. 

He appeared in a whirl of smoke, waving the mist away and pointing towards you with the end of a backscratcher. He called you an “unprecedented interloper.” You couldn’t say you disagreed. The Destined One awoke to the two of you exchanging questions that neither could answer. There was the idea to have you dropped off at a human village, though this was quickly rejected as not only was it well off the course, but the Keeper had a sneaking suspicion that your presence, however “wrong” and “erroneous,” was tied to that of the Destined One’s. It was decided that you would accompany him on his journey, whether that be for a larger role you play or simply to keep you alive. You personally leaned more towards the latter. “Perhaps,” the Keeper said as smoke enveloped him once more, “once everything falls back into place, then so too would you.” 

The Destined One initially traveled ahead of you so as to scout for potential dangers. This was remedied when you both were ambushed from behind. Now he keeps pace with you, never showing any signs or indication that your slower speed frustrated him. The start of the journey was a cruel leap from what you were accustomed to, but you soon found yourself adapting. You never allowed yourself to ask for anything, not even as your feet bled or how much your body screamed at you.

Today may be easier, but that didn’t stop your lungs from feeling like they were bursting. The Destined One let his arm fall. The path ahead was clear. You took a step forward and felt your foot catch on a tree root. The Young Sage reacted quickly, catching your arm. 

“I’m sorry, let me just-” your legs took this golden opportunity to buckle under you. The Destined One put his arm under yours, shouldering your weight. He led you to sit on the root as you settled your breathing.

“I’m fine, I just need to catch my breath,” you explained, clutching at your chest. The Destined One shrunk his staff, stowing it away. He knelt beside you. To your horror you realized he was offering his back. 

“Truly! I’m fine!” you cried out, flustered. The Destined One stood back up. This relieved you till you looked closer at him. You could read how utterly unconvinced he was the way his hand resting on his hip paired with his unblinking stare. 

“You’re already carrying enough, I can manage my own weight at the very least.” You readied yourself to stand back up. In response he held up a pinky. You stopped, staring at him skeptically. He stepped towards you, hooking it onto your outer robe. He barely moved his arm before your whole body was lifted from the ground. Message clearly packaged, delivered, and received. Ever and always so silent, he placed you down and offered you his back. This time, you obediently let him carry you, ignoring the feeling of satisfaction that came from him. 

The young monkey straightened up, making you instinctively move your hands from his shoulders to wrap around his neck. He quickly understood and angeled himself downwards before he started walking. 

Your mind went from the way your chest was pressed against his back to your faces being much too close, then to the way his hands gripped your legs to support your weight. You felt yourself warming up. You weren’t sure that it was from the heat of the day anymore. With you on his back the pace quickened to where he was almost doubling the distance covered. You shoved away the feeling of guilt which nestled into your stomach. You ignored whatever dance your heart was doing in your chest. 

~

Traveling with your silent companion had a difficult adjustment period. You appeared in this world with nothing but your clothing, which were shortly in tatters from your stumble into a Yaoguai’s territory. The Destined One fashioned you new clothing that could hold their own. He’d also lent you a staff, but your first attempt at wielding it had you either accidentally hitting yourself or dropping it. You thought you saw a humorous quirk of his lips when you had hit yourself on the head the third time, but that may have been the self-inflicted head injury. He had held out his hand and you wordlessly returned the staff. 

The journey was initially silent, but you eventually began filling the air with light chatter. You talked about anything on your mind on that particular day whether it be a memory, story, or particularly interesting item from your world. You weren’t sure if he was ever fully listening. He never made any indication for you to stop. In one instance you were interrupted by an archer who was shortly intercepted and disposed of. When he returned to your side he made a motion for you to continue your story about a movie you had once watched, a delight you tried to settle down. It became easier to read his subtle gestures and little facial expressions. Sometimes, you would react to him as if he were speaking aloud. You never made mention of how you knew as much as you did about him or his journey. That was the one topic you avoided. There was this strong instinct never to mention this world’s origins. It was akin to how one would avoid eating ominous mushrooms or lick questionable stains. 

With the knowledge you could share, you advised him when able. He eventually understood that telling him you’d be waiting for him at a shrine meant he was about to fight a rather powerful Yaoguai. He never questioned when you pointed out things he may have missed or the way you would let him know what sort of enemy to prepare for next. Whether he thought your instinct or intuition strong, he trusted your judgment.

At night, the Destined One would scout for a place to rest. On some lucky days he finds an abandoned home or building to stay in. On the cold nights where camp would be set outside, you’d sit closer to the fire. One morning you woke up to find your limbs wrapped around your companion. Your blanket twisted between the two of you. Your body had sought him out in the night. Even with you rousing from your stupor you found it unbearably difficult to separate from his warmth. Eventually, you did manage to unwind yourself. You had rolled over, pretending to continue to sleep for a bit longer before doing a very convincing rise and stretch. You avoided eye contact with him the first time you did this and your stories came sparingly. After the next few times you eventually realized that the days you woke up intertwined with him were the only days where he’d be the second to rise. You assumed he was graciously giving you time to leave without having to go through the embarrassed apologies you had prepared. For that you were grateful. In any case, neither of you brought it up. 

As time passed you were soon able to keep pace with the Destined One without relying on him having to carry you. The speed at which you were adapting to this world felt too quick to be natural, but you were working with too many unknowns to be sure. You thought of giving the staff another try, but your skills were just the same as when you’d started. Learned behavior did not count, unfortunately.

~

The day had been sweltering when you and your companion made camp near a spring. The Destined One had scouted the area with you before it was deemed safe to stay for the night. You were excited to be able to bathe in such a beautiful area, especially after such a hot day. You left the young monkey at the camp before going to the water. The flora around it kept you private from one another. You stripped off your clothes, letting them rest on some rocks in the light of the setting sun. You tested the water with one foot, it was refreshingly cool. You waded in till the water reached your waist, then held your breath and ducked below the surface. You emerged laughing, feeling the droplets fall from your hair. 

The water felt invigorating on your skin. You felt more than just the accumulated dirt and grime being washed off of you. You began washing your hair, trying to detangle any knots you found when you felt something squirming land on you from an overhanging tree branch. You cried out in surprise, quickly brushing off a curious little lizard. The lizard made its getaway just as the Destined One leapt into the spring, staff in hand. 

“It’s okay, a lizard just surprised me,” you explained with a small laugh, hands raised in reassurance. He looked down. You looked down. You quickly covered yourself in a panic, going lower into the water as he turned on his heel to head back in the direction of camp. You lowered your head till it was submerged again so that only the fish could hear your cries of embarrassment. You stayed longer than you wanted to in the spring until your face stopped burning and your hands began to wrinkle. Drying yourself off, you did whatever you could to shake off the mortification of what just happened. You dressed yourself, hesitating to return back to camp. What do you say to someone who just saw you naked? Do you apologize? Make a joke of it? Pretend it never happened? All were answers but none seemed correct on their own. You settled your breathing. You can go with E: All of the above.

Back at the camp you found the Destined One sitting cross legged, poking at the small fire he had made. His tail was swishing left to right, making the pattern of a fan in the dirt. You hesitated again, unsure on how to bring up what just happened. You weren’t sure how long you stood there for when the Young Sage suddenly inhaled sharply through his teeth, tossing the stick he was holding aside. He had let it burn down to a stub till the small fire reached his fingers. Seems you weren’t the only one lost in their own mind. You smiled, somehow relieved in knowing that. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, your tone light with humor. He turned to you, you saw him relax at seeing you smiling. You went next to him, then crouched down, holding out your hands. “Can I see?” 

He held out his hand, you took it between yours, looking closely for any sign of damage. His hand was large with dark nails well pointed and sharp. You felt you were brushing past his fingers with your own more than you needed to. Satisfied at seeing no wound, you let go. He held his hand there for a moment before retracting it. Wordlessly, you both stood up. You refuse to let any awkward silences stretch on, being the only one who can actually break them. 

“It’s your turn to use the spring,” you said, putting your arms behind you, “Watch out for lizards.” You mentally kicked yourself. The Destined One watched your expression for a moment, considering your warning. Then he gave a small nod and headed for the spring. You let out a held breath. This feeling will not be leaving you any time soon, but at the very least nothing’s changed as far as you can tell.

The next day, after untangling from the Destined One once again, the two of you continued onward as usual. Soon, the lush forests became bare sand as the two of you entered the next part of the journey. 

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

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

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

[bartxnhood]

love you need | s.h

shawn hunter x fem!reader

summary: you notice shawn distancing himself from you and the group until one night she shows up at your door hoping to talk it out.

warnings: angst! both shawn and reader have some self doubt.

a/n: this is my first time writing for shawn, and tbh it’s been a hot minute since i’ve rewatched bmw so😭 but i really miss shawn and i relate to his character sm. so i might start writing for him now, this is just to test the waters. enjoy !

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

you stand at your locker rummaging through your books searching for your history book. “hey!” topanga hollers, followed by cory. you push you locker door inwards revealing the couple. “have you seen shawn?” cory questions, you simply shake your head and close your locker. “no, why?” you ask, leaning against the metal. “i haven’t heard from him over the weekend. totally unusual, normally i csnt get rid of him” cory answers, your eyebrows raised. now that you think of it, he hasn’t called or stopped by to see you either.

shawn was the type of boyfriend to check in occasionally, even out of school. he’d often surprise you with small gifts just to lighten things up if you were having a bad day. so this was out of character for him, if he was sick or something came up he’d always tell you or cory. something wasn’t right.

“wel..” you trailed off, furrowing your brows. “we can call if he doesn’t show. surely he wouldn’t not show up and not have a reason or tell us” the other two agrees and decided to let it go for the rest of the day.

but a day turned into two, and next thing you knew he never showed that whole week. you tried desperately to call but each time it went to voicemail. you felt frustrated, why did he disappear all of a sudden? why didn’t he tell anybody? you were high strung for the remainder of that week. snapping at people when you didn’t mean to but, nothing was as important as shawn was to you.

“did i do something to upset him?” you’re laying on topangas bed. she invited you over to work on a project, but after you stayed for dinner. “what if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? what if he found someone else.” your mind is racing, why else would shawn not come to school or return your calls?

you hear topanga sigh, and came to your aide. “y/n, look at me” you sit-up, looking at her. she puts her hands on your shoulder, “he loves you, y/n. i’m sure he has a reason for why he’s been gone.” you groan, she was probably right but it didn’t your heart from aching. “now, cmon. let’s go eat dinner, okay? get your mind off things.”

it wasn’t unusual for you to be home alone as your parents were typically on work trips. you had your own little routine after school. you’d come home, make a snack, do some homework, maybe read for a couple hours, shower, then go to bed. but today was different, after doing your homework you were pretty exhausted so you had just planned on laying down. thank god you we’re graduating in a few months, the work was beginning to run you down mentally.

it seemed no matter how hard yo supplied yourself, you always came in last. you were barely making the grades to pass your classes, but you were trying so hard.

as you were entering the bathroom, ready to brush your teeth and wash your face you heard banging at your door. of course, you didn’t want to answer because who would be banging on your door at this hour? but, something told you to answer it. you cursed at yourself mentally, you were too nice for your own good and your kindness would be your demise. but when you opened the door you didn’t expect to see him. “shawn?”

“i’m sorry for coming here so late but i just didn’t know where else to go.” shawn states as he runs his hand through his hair. your heart broke just looking at him. it looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes were so dark, he looked beyond exhausted. “shawn, you don’t have to apologize. you know you’ll always have a place here.”

shawn took a seat at the edge of your bed he feels like his heart has been ripped out, all he wants to do is sleep and probably never wake up again. “i just” he rubs his eyes. “i got left alone again, dad went out. i just i didn’t have the guts to face you.” he feels so little, sitting in front of you like this on the verge of tears. “oh, shawn..” you cup his face making him look at you. “it’s okay, you know i’ll always be here. no judgement, shawn. it’s just you and me” you offer a smile.

you see the tears swell in his eyes. shawn wraps his arms around you and rests his head on your stomach. “i’m sorry” he says just above a whisper. “shawn, you didn't do anything wrong. there's nothing to apologize for." you feel him shake his head against your, “no, y/n. i’m sorry i’m not good enough for you.” tears begin to fall from his eyes and he hold on to you as if you were about to be ripped away from him.

“i live in a trailer park, i have nothing to offer you, you could do some much better than me..i don’t deserve you, y/n. you need someone who can provide and give you what you need..i don’t know if i can be that person for you, y/n” you can feel his tears staining your shirt. you remove his arms from your waist as you fall to your knees so you could be eye level with him. “shawn. listen to me” you wipe away his tears, smiling sadly. “you are good enough for me. in fact, i often think you’re too good for me because sometimes i think you could find someone better than me.” now you begin to tear up, confessing all of your bottled emotions.

“shawn, i have felt this toward someone as much as i have you. you’ve saved me so many times and you probably don’t even know it. i promise, you are good enough. you’ll always be good enough,okay? i’ll always be here for you, just let me be the love you need.” tears begin to fall from your eyes, so now the both of you are a crying mess.

“don’t cry, i hate seeing your cry” shawn hums, he wipes away your tears and rests his hand on your cheek. you nod, “i know..” sniffling.

there’s a moment of silence between you two, a comfortable silence. shawn is staring at you. admiring you, puffy eyes and all. he realizes how in love he is, that no matter what life throws at him that he will always have you. shawn softly rubs the pad of his thumb over your check.

“i love you.”

you blink, a few seconds of silence fills the room. he hadn’t said that to you yet, in your years of dating he hadn’t said he loved you, once. shawn was too afraid to love anybody. afraid that he’d ruin the person he wants to love. shawn was like that most of his life, until you changed his mind.

“what?” you feel all the air leave your lungs, your emotions were all over the place now. from crying to now feeling this warmth in your chest as you heard him say the words you had been waiting so long to hear. “say it again”

“i love you, y/n.”

instinctively you wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him in a tight hug. “i’ve been waiting to hear that for so long” you sniffle. shawn rubs you back, you feel him nod. “i know, i should’ve said it a long time ago.”

hours later, after the both of you had spilled your hearts to each other, you offered him dinner but he denied claiming he just wanted to lie down.

you rested comfortably on his chest, he drew circles on your spine. both of you enjoying the silent. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you.” you say. shawn is taken aback, looking down at you. “what?” you look up, smiling softly. “i know we’re still young, but there’s no one else in my life i’d want besides you. i want to be with you forever.” you see him smile, and he tightens his grip around you.

“i like the sound of that…y/n hunter…that has a nice ring to it”

[boymeetsimagines]

Crazy Luther | Eric Matthews x F!Reader

Summary: On your first day of orientation at Pennbrooke, an old friend helps you out of the unwanted attention of Crazy Luther.

It was your first official day at Pennbrooke and you couldn’t have been more excited. You’d found a great apartment within walking distance from the campus after running into a former classmate at John Adams High a couple days before orientation. Even though Topanga was a year younger than you, you'd always managed to have a couple classes together every year before your parents moved to New York your junior year. You knew it had to have been fate to run into her right after she’d run into Jack, Shawn’s long lost brother who was in the need for some new roommates.

Even though there was apparently a lot of drama going on between the two brothers, Shawn had agreed to be the fourth roommate and you were excited to live with at least one friendly face.

You expected to see more former classmates at orientation, since the campus was so close to your former high school, but found yourself disappointed when you didn’t recognize a single person.

You did, however, attract the attention of one student. He’d introduced himself as Luther, but a friendly girl pulled you aside after and warned you that the guy had a bad reputation and even a nickname already.

Determined to give everyone the benefit of the doubt (plus you had to admit, the guy was handsome), you quickly found yourself less and less flattered as he continued to become more forward in his flirting. He was grabby and possessive in a way that made your bad vibes bat signal go off. You’d been in a bad relationship before - you knew the signs. But he wasn’t backing off.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coo’d, following you as you walked through the quad. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“I can’t. I already have plans with my roommates,” you replied, thanking God that you actually did have these plans. Jack had promised tonight would be the first official roommate dinner and you were finally going to meet the illusive third roommate that you’d still managed to not run into.

“Skip it! Come on, doll. I’ll take you to places you’ve never been,” he grabbed your arm to stop you from walking, pulling you closer toward him as his grip grew stronger.

Out of instinct, you pushed him away, “Get off!”

“What’s your problem? You got a boyfriend or somethin’?” He continued to walk toward you, taking up more of your space than you were comfortable with.

As if out of desperation, you began to look around to see if there was anyone, anyone who could save you.

Low and behold, the first friendly face you’d manage to see from your former school appeared in the window of the student center to your left.

“As a matter of fact,” you said sternly, giving Luther your attention, “I do. And he’s right in there, so if you’ll excuse me.”

You pushed past him and walked through the student center doors, heading straight for the guy you hadn’t seen in two years as he sat by himself on a bench near the back reading a magazine. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Luther still standing by the doorway, watching you. So you knew you had to make this look convincing.

“Eric Matthews,” you said softly, standing in front of him to try and block his face from the doorway.

Eric looked up at you, his brow rising in both confusion and something else you didn’t quite recognize as he took you in. For a second, you feared that he didn’t remember you and your heart began to beat even faster than you thought possible.

When he finally greeted you in kind by saying your first and last name, your heart began to race for another reason. “What are you—“

“No time,” you stopped him, grabbing the magazine from his hands and settling down in his lap. You lightly caressed his cheek as he continued to peer up at you, and you weren’t sure if his face was purely surprised or if there was a small hint of awe in them. You whispered “play along” as you leaned in closely, his eyes flitting to your lips as you did before you dove in.

Cradling his face and pulling it to yours, you poured yourself in a deep kiss that was meant to convince Luther that this was your boyfriend. Eric jumped slightly at first from your abrupt action, then grew stiff, as if he were doing something wrong. But you were surprised to feel him very quickly give in to whatever it was you were doing here as he wrapped his arms around you and adjusted you onto his lap more comfortably, his left hand gripping at your back and the other on your hip. Deepening the kiss, your hands moved up toward the nape of his neck and moved up, diving into the silky soft curtain of hair that you’d always fantasized about in high school. A soft moan left his throat as your finger nails took on a mind of their own against his scalp and you felt yourself whimper at the sound, melting into his kiss. It was a perfect mixture of tender but demanding, controlled but completely fueled by reckless abandon.

The sound of someone clearing their throat harshly caused you both to jump, finally pulling away from each other to face the intruder. You were annoyed to see that it was still Luther. This guy just could not take a hint.

“So this the boyfriend, huh? I give it a week and you’ll be beggin’ me to take you out. See ya around, sweetheart.”

You groaned as he finally walked out of the room, feeling your body limp at the obvious defeat you felt.

“Boyfriend?” Eric’s voice brought you back as you felt yourself stiffen, realizing that you were still seated very snuggly in the lap of your high school crush.

But his arms hadn’t moved. In fact, you realized that you’d felt them tighten a little more around you when Luther had confronted you.

“Um yeah,” you said timidly, knowing that your cheeks had to be the brightest shade of red humanly imaginable. “That was Luther. Apparently he’s also known as Crazy Luther.”

His brow creased seriously, “Crazy Luther? Who sells the stereo products at low prices?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, according to the rumors he chewed the fingers off his own brother.”

“Well he’s never gonna sell stereos with that kind of reputation.” He smiled at you in that all too familiar Eric smile and you felt your heart contract against your will.

You thought you’d gotten over your crush back when you were a junior and he was a senior, trying desperately to tutor him so he wouldn’t have to repeat his senior year. But he was just so charming and funny and so damn insightful when he wanted to be, you couldn’t help but fall for him.

And here you were, two years later, giving in to that damn smile once more.

You realized again that he hadn’t moved his arms or tried to push you off of him, though you didn’t necessarily feel trapped. It felt comfortable, actually, and that feeling made you jump off his lap immediately and try to find your words again.

All the emotions finally caught up with you: violated by Luther’s disregard for you saying no; anger that he only begrudgingly respected your choice because of another man’s power; guilt over doing nearly the exact same thing to a former friend by pushing yourself on him; and complete and total embarrassment because holy shit you just made out with Eric Matthews.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally said, slightly pacing. “He just wouldn’t back off and take no for an answer. Finally he asked if I had a boyfriend and I saw you in the window and I don’t know what came over me. But I saw an easy out and I took it and I’m just so sorry again for doing that to you.”

Eric chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. “Hey, yeah, no need to be sorry. I’m happy to help. Just to be safe, you should stay for a few minutes though until he’s left the area for good. Don’t want him thinking you made out with some stranger just to get away from him.”

“Heaven forbid,” you mocked, chuckling with him as you sat next to him on the bench.

A few minutes easily turned into hours as you and Eric caught up. He told you about his year off after graduation. You told him about your time in New York. He was teasing you about not going to college in the big apple when your watch beeped.

“Damn,” you cursed, realizing how late it’d gotten. “I’m sorry, Eric. I’ve gotta go to this thing—“

“Oh, yeah it’s no problem!” he said reassuringly, lifting up with you as he looked at his own watch. “I’ve gotta run too actually. But, this was fun.”

“The assault or the conversation?” you joked, a blush rising to your cheeks at the mention of the kiss.

He chuckled as you both began to walk out of the student center, running his hand through his hair. It was shorter than it’s been when you left John Adams, but it still looked just as luxurious. “Both, actually. I’ll see ya around?”

“Definitely,” you confirmed, sending him a smile as you parted ways. Quickly, you raced across the campus to the apartment building, disappointed to have cut your time with Eric short but ready to finally sit down with all your roommates. This was going to be your year — you could feel it!

[geekgirl750-writes]

Really want to write some fluff (and maybe smut) about this og himbo that's been living rent free in my head lately

[obviouslacking]

*taps mic* hello jeric nation

i just wrote a 8k jack x eric amnesia trope fic!!!

i don't know if she's any good but i definitely... wrote her anyways if you wanna read, here she is

[redlegumes]

If suction were all it took...

Written for @steddiemicrofic Challenge Prompt: Suck | WC: 480 | Rated: M | CW: none | AO3 Link

Summary:

Driving around, parking, and talking had become a regular staple for Steve and Eddie. But after picking up a difficult to eat treat, Steve decides to provide another treat while they wait for the first to melt.

Warning: Almost smut under the cut ↜(⃔•w•)⃕

"No, you just have to suck it harder."

"Eddie you’ve got to be kidding. No way."

"I’m telling you it’s excellent."

"Only because you have a warped idea of excellence."

Eddie snorted in reply.

Steve set his milkshake back into his cup holder. "Mine is practically rock solid Eds. And trust me, I used to make these things. This shop's ratios are super fucked up. I dunno how you can pull anything into that straw without hurting yourself," he added irritatedly, watching Eddie suck on his own milkshake.

The disagreement vanished from Eddie's face. "Oh. So, you’re impressed sweetheart?"

It was Steve's turn to snort. He felt his cheeks warm slightly as he looked back out the front window of the beemer into the dark outside. He'd flicked the headlights off. “If suction were all it took, then maybe..." The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he let the next words leave his lips. "All that shake needs is to warm up a bit first. Then I could get it down." His eyes darted back to Eddie, no longer drinking his shake, but absently chewing on the straw as he stared at Steve.

"Heat it up, suck it down? That's your uh, advice Harrington?"

"Yeah," Steve huffed a little. He looked around the abandoned parking lot they’d pulled into again. "I might wait for mine to melt in the back seat." He wiped his palms on the tops of his thighs, hoping to rid himself of excess sweat. Before he could chicken out or potentially overthink Eddie's reaction, Steve got out of the car. He leaned down, pulling the driver's seat up toward the dash before he shut the front door and sat back in the spacious area he'd created. 

Eddie had frozen in place.

He could stay up there, Steve thought, listening to the stereo lowly playing some tape Eddie’d shoved in when Steve picked him up, the sound of the car engine idling almost as loud. But… if he comes back, I’m just going to go for it.

Steve's heartbeat grew louder than the other sounds of the car when he saw Eddie set his shake down. Moments later, Eddie's long limbs were clambering into the back seat. He mostly crashed into Steve before sitting, a leg still draped over Steve's. 

Eddie began to chuckle, breathing heavy. "Alright big boy. Is this going how you pictured it?"

Steve pushed Eddie's leg off before tugging his hips over. He knelt on the car floor, between Eddie's knees. "I hoped something a little more like this."

Eddie inhaled air so fast Steve thought he might choke as his fingers grazed the other man’s fly.

"You hoped," Eddie whispered.

Steve's hands trembled just the slightest as they ran over Eddie's growing bulge. He met Eddie’s eyes and asked, "heat it up and suck it down?"

"Fuck yes. Please."

*Obligatory 'and they're not even dating.'

[aimmyarrowshigh]

MLMay 2024: 100 Slash Drabbles

027. Binding - Jack Hunter/Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World)

[queermeetsthe90s]

I Feel Your Love - A Jeric Oneshot

Summary:

Jack's tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes stayed locked on Eric's mouth. He always wondered what those lips would feel like against his, what they would look like stretched wide and wrapped snugly around his hard, leaking co-

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Or: Jack asks Eric to set him up on a few blind dates to try and find a girlfriend (and get over the feelings he’s not allowing himself to have for his best friend). Eric does so, but none of it goes the way Jack wants or expects. What happens after Eric decides to set him up with a guy one fateful day? There’s only one way to find out!

Warnings:

Internalized homophobia (Jack struggles with himself), small bout of arguing (nothing major), strong language, and eventual smut

[stxrliasfics]

sxtrlia’s guide to writing a fic

1. Obsess over this idea for at least a week

Got that important paper due for English the next day? Forget it. Your life depends on this random daydream you had in class right now and you have to talk about it over and over with your friend to the point that you’re both getting sick of hearing you giggle about a dying ship from an old fandom.

2. Spend money on another notebook you definitely don’t need

You’ve got like, 50 of em at home that you haven’t even written in yet. Doesn’t matter. This new precious fic deserves a clean, sexy notebook with a glossy finish and gorgeous graphic art on the cover of it. It’s also an excuse to drive 20 minutes to the nearest Walmart.

3. Binge watch show/movie and browse pics of ship while plotting

You actually need to get some outlining done if you want to be committed to this fic. But scrolling on pinterest for an hour and rewatching an episode that you’ve definitely seen a million times before is too important right now. Meh, I’ll outline later.

4. It’s now later and all you have is “The” on your paper

Meh, time to watch some degrassi

5. You watch your grades slip but OMG IM ACC GETTING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS???

You’re sweating like you’ve never sweat before, your hand is cramping like crazy, and you currently have a 40 in a class bc you didn’t turn in that important project that was worth half of your grade. IT DOESNT MATTER THO BC YOU JUST THOUGHT OF THIS PERFECT PLOT POINT AND OMG YOURE DANCING AROUND THE ROOM BC OF HOW PERFECT EVERYTHING IS TYING TOGETHER!!

6. You upload the story

Now you’ve lost motivation.

[oceangirl24]

Autumn in Philadelphia Series Master List *Updated 02/17/24*

02/17/2024: I have incredible friends who have contributed to the AiP world. They are incredible writers whose profiles are worth checking out as BMW is not their usual fandom.

Scroll down to One Shots to check them out.

Quick search: AiP Related stories on AO3

Series link on AO3: Autumn In Philadelphia

Twenty years ago, Shawn Hunter had the opportunity to have the kind of family Cory Matthews had, but a jealous ex-girlfriend of his foster father destroyed that chance. After 17 years on the run, he has a chance for that happy ending again. But he isn't the only one who's back. As history gets set to repeat itself, Shawn enlists the help of his best friends and newly found sister to correct the mistakes of the past.

A Jonathan Turner and Shawn Hunter story with the entire BMW and GMW cast set in 1995 and 2015.

Canon-compliant. The presence of Audrey changes nothing that happens in BMW or GMW. This series tries to wrangle canon loose ends and continuity confusion into a cohesive story.

Audrey was created in 1995.

The Books:

Autumn in Philadelphia- Jon and Shawn try to settle into their changing roles from teacher and student to guardian and charge with limited to success. A student teacher assigned to Jon changes his relationship with Shawn in ways he could never have imagined. (Complete)

AO3 FFN WattPad

Autumn in Philadelphia: The Return- It's been 17 years since Shawn turned his back on Jon. Now that he's back in New York City for good, Cory forces a meeting between him and Jon. A series of events started by a poorly timed joke brings Shawn home to the family he's always wanted and who's kept a room waiting for him.

Unfortunately, Shawn isn't the only one from Jon's past who's back. (Complete)

AO3 FFN WattPad

Autumn in Philadelphia: Saudade- The family returns to Philadelphia for Spring Break. Jon and Shawn finally sit down and explore the reasons for their estrangement with everyone who was there: Cory, Topanga, Eric, Jack, Angela, and Audrey.

Meanwhile, Jon's past threatens to destroy the life he's built for himself and his family.

AO3 FFN WattPad

Companion stories:

Flashbacks- Flashbacks of a year in the life of Shawn Hunter and Jonathan Turner. Taken from the main books so they're easier to find. Most chapters are one-shots.

AO3 FFN WattPad

Christmas to Last a Lifetime- The holiday season begins early as Shawn recalls his first Christmas with Jon. One that lasted an entire month. (Complete)

AO3 FFN WattPad

Birthday Wishes and Valentine Kisses- For the first time in his life, Shawn is having the birthday party of his dreams courtesy of Jon. However, with his birthday falling near a certain holiday, he uses party planning to scheme against his teacher.

Bringing Cory, Topanga, and his new girlfriend, Dana, along for the ride, Shawn creates the perfect plan to get Jon away from Chubbies on the night of the party. Everything goes off without a hitch until the friends begin to find loose ends everywhere that threaten their plans.

AO3 FFN WattPad

One-Shots:

The following stories are a part of the AiP universe although where their fit into the timeline is nebulous. And in one story AiP is that world's BMW.

*NEW* If You Love Someone by Yotsubadancesintherain5

On a cold winter morning Jon wakes up with a clear mind. In comparison to how his winter mornings used to go, the mornings he has now that Audrey and Shawn are in his life are much more colorful, warm and loving - and noisy, because there are some loud cooking noises going on in his kitchen.

*NEW* Sniffing Out a Rat by @sliebman10

When Shawn plays a prank on Mr. Turner during class, he and Shawn have a heart to heart about his behavior.

*NEW* Breaking the Fourth Wall by @the-orion-scribe

A Gravity Falls next-gen story featuring Dipper and Pacifica's children. AiP appears as this world's BMW.

*NEW* Beneath A Scarlet Ribbon by @mrsmungus

December 98, their first New York Christmas.

Jon and Audrey decorate their tree and find themselves reminded of the past, while trying to live their present. But an early Christmas gift from Jon suddenly has the future looking a lot clearer.

Sick Day- Shawn is really sick. Audrey is really out of town. And Jon really doesn't know what to do.

AO3 FFN WattPad

A Boy and His (Teacher's) Motorcycle- A call from Chet sets Shawn off and puts him at odds with Jon. Shawn is convinced the only way to save his relationship with his mentor is to move out before he gets kicked out.

AO3 FFN WattPad

The Darkest Night-Jon goes through the darkest night of his life. Alone.

AO3 FFN WattPad

Shades of Love: A Shondrey Collection- Family is what you make it and with whom you make it.

A collection of drabbles, double drabbles, and slice of life moments with the family they found.

The name Shondrey (Shawn, Jon, and Audrey) comes from @mrsmungus (Mirandabelle ) who gave this little family their name. She was also the one to coin Jondrey (Jon and Audrey's ship name). This is quite an honor for me as she writes another favorite family of mine Tiva (Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David) and Tivali (Tony, Ziva, Tali).

AO3 FFN (Not available on Wattpad yet)

Daredevil Hunter by TheSalty- “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Why did that question seem to define Shawn Hunter's life?

This story was written for me and my sis, @justanotherpersonwhowrites by our incredible nephew, @tsunderesalty. Set earlier in the AiP timeline, this story captures the spirit of season 2 so well. Audrey's inclusion is just perfect.

AO3

When One Door Closes by Mirandabelle- Jon Turner learns a lesson in hope, patience and love as he tries to settle his newborn daughter to sleep.

This is a very special story written as a gift for me by my dear friend and sister @mrsmungus. It is perfection!

AO3

The Art of Autumn in Philadelphia- Original artwork for the series by yours truly.😊

Coming Soon:

I have several one-shots planned centering on Shawn, Jon, and Audrey in 1994/95.

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 2 | Coarse Sands, Red Blood

Synopsis: It was unfortunate timing to get kidnapped mid-argument with the Destined One. A continuation from the first chapter of this take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 4,112

Warnings: Violence, Mature Content (Heavily Implied)

Author's Note: This was a fun chapter. Thank you for all the support and kindness you've given the last chapter. I hope you enjoy! Ch. 1 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional)

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Getting into an argument with a silent participant was by far the most testing part of the journey. You wanted to believe you had adapted enough to be a true companion rather than an extra-carry on, but the time your companion’s wasted fussing over you made you feel more like a disobedient, sickly child. 

At first you could forgive him. You had sustained an injury from a Yaoguai mid-foraging while The Destined One was resting. He hadn’t heard or sensed this one hiding when he had scouted the area. Your cry of pain alerted him, he quickly killed the Yaoguai before looking at your wound. The injury you were given on your arm wasn’t deep, but the way the blood was soaking your clothing had him make a new expression you hadn’t seen before. He was careful when he bandaged you up, every small sound you made when the wound stung would have him freeze midway.

You couldn’t heal as quickly as he could. The drink he’d given you lightened the pain, but the wound still stayed. Since then, he refuses to eat until he is satisfied with the amount that you’ve eaten. The worst of this was when he wouldn’t let you help him out in any way other than advising, not even to dust off sand from your equipment. He would silently urge you to only rest while he took care of any and all preparation that was needed. He no longer lets you out of his sight. Things escalated when he couldn’t take the hint that some more private moments couldn’t be shared. Despite the rising tensions and silent exchanges of meaningful looks, you still managed to find yourself waking up next to him. This only added to your aggravation. 

Your wound had long since closed, leaving a scar as a reminder. You know he was doing what he could and what he understood as protecting you. But it only reignited the feeling that you were a helpless human taking up the time of someone with a greater role to play. You tried to convey that you didn’t need to be pampered to this extent. He would take one look at your arm and your efforts would fall on deaf ears. 

This time, you were safely stowed away in an abandoned house near a bridge when he went off to fight another powerful Yaoguai. He’d left you frustrated, still ignoring your pleas for him to focus some energy on himself rather than you or this journey. You worried over how he hadn’t been eating or letting himself consistently rest lately. You didn’t know how he could fight while exhausted. Anxiety gripped you as you remembered how tricky this particular opponent was. 

You simmered in your worry till a cry of pain from him shot you with dread. You left your hiding place to peek out, watching his fight. You saw the Destined One get knocked back from a blow. He recovered, wiping away blood with the back of his hand. He began charging for an attack. It was a reckless charge, one that was punished before he could even land a hit. His moves were sloppy and poorly timed. You could only watch in horror as he suffered blow after blow. He was fighting distracted. As distracted as you were when someone gagged and bound you from behind. You were thrown over a shoulder and stolen from the fight. The last thing you saw before something covered your head was the Destined One on the ground, breathing heavily, covered in his own blood. 

~

You were transported well away from your companion. Your kicking and thrashing awarded you with arms bound to your ankles, but at least one bruised captor. Your ears picked up hushed voices, feet on sand, then wood, then solid ground. Eventually you heard many voices colliding in an argument and the loud crackling of a large fire. 

“This is the human monk said to grant us immortality?” One voice questioned, tone thick with doubt. 

“It does not dress like a monk nor act like one, my bruised back can attest to that!” Added another voice. 

“We already told you, this is not the same monkey!”

“How many monkeys with a staff traveling with a human have you witnessed?” 

Someone pulled the sack off of your head. Blinking in the fading light of dusk, you found yourself kneeling, surrounded by rat yaoguais of different shapes and sizes. Behind you was an abandoned sentry point. A rat guai was stationed right next to you with a large ax handle peeking from his back. In the distance you saw archers watching the entrance ways to this little camp. A bonfire roared at the very center, a fire larger than needed for any ordinary game. You swallowed beneath the cloth that covered your mouth. 

“Does this look like a virtuous monk to you?” One rat guai with a missing ear asked, pointing to you contemptuously. 

Another rat with a missing eye sneered,“How would you know what virtue looks like, you filthy adulterer?” 

A fist connected with a whiskered face. The two rat guais fell into the dirt punching, clawing, and biting. The others around the camp egged them on with fists in the air. You heard some taking bets as drunken laughter mixed in with jeers from the crowd. Your guard was yelling his own insults right next to you. You took the moment to test your bindings, frustrated to find them much too thick to tear and too tight to slip out of. 

You thought of your silent companion, fighting the rising fear that came from the last image you saw of him bleeding on the ground. You weren’t sure what dying meant to him in this world. You have yet to witness him fail to confirm anything. If he were to fall in battle would the shrines hold and restore his soul and body? Are the rules different, and if so in what way? What does death mean for the Destined One? You shook your head, forcefully ridding yourself of these thoughts. You knew just how stubborn that monkey is. He would not fall. You needed to breathe. You needed to focus. 

Escaping unnoticed was a tall, improbable order. You had a lone guard keeping an eye on you and the archers positioned around the camp wouldn’t let you get that far. You had to make a chance. An idea struck you. It was risky, but when was any plan worth trying not? 

The two fighting rat guais in front of you were still rolling in the dirt. The one eyed rat guai then pinned the other down with his knee, forcing its jaws open before spitting into its mouth. The camp erupted into a roar of approval, the winner was awarded with a passed drink. You groaned in disgust. 

“Whether or not the human grants immortality, we’d enjoy a fine feast of a rare game either way!” Cried out the one eyed rat guai. Hearty cheers of agreement rang out. You began wiggling against your constraints, speaking beneath your bondage. The rat guai behind you took notice, signaling the winner of the bout over. The rat guai, the leader you assumed, gave the signal to unbind your mouth. You breathed just a little easier. Taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat. 

“You cannot eat me,” you said, hoping your voice held an ominous tone, “The homewrecker there is right. I was to be a sacrifice to a spurned Yaoguai. My flesh does not grant immortality, but a curse.” 

Several rats exclaimed in surprise, conversations and cries of disgust spread through the group. The leader stepped close, bending down until he was looking you right in the eyes. The rank smell of alcohol and old wounds hit you. His face was covered in old scars, a part of his upper snout was missing, his one red eye watched you unblinking. You showed nothing on your face. 

“A clever lie,” he snarled, “You’re a long ways from a sacrificial altar.” 

“The monkey I travel with interrupted the ceremony and stole me away. But not before the Yaogaui placed its mark on me.” You turned your arm to him. The leader ripped off your sleeve to reveal your healing scar. The dancing firelight illuminated the worst of its features. Many gasped as several took steps back from you. Your tale made your ordinary scar into a mark of warning; you were tainted meat. The leader looked closely at your scar, you hope the expression you saw momentarily was one of hesitation. A voice spoke up from the group, making the leader turn from you.

“I told you, this wasn’t the right human,” the defeated rat from before pointed to the leader.“Would you have us feast on cursed flesh?” Cries of agreement rose from the crowd. Sides were being taken. With the possibility of a cursed meal being on the line the tensions were higher than before. 

The rat guarding you raised a question, “How do we know eating them won’t kill us?” Fear rippled through the group in waves. Some wanted you alive to be consumed, fixated on the potential of immortality. Others wanted you dead, the thought of the curse enough for them to be rid of you. Some were already done with this ordeal, ready to set you off on your way. No one could agree on what to do with you. You saw one rat push another one as debates became arguments. This was it. If one were to pick up a weapon then the rest would follow for sure. They’d tear each other apart. You could find an escape amidst the chaos.

You saw a flash of iron. Someone had picked up a sword. Anticipation turned to cold fear when you saw it slice through the air to point at you. 

“Enough!” The leader shouted above the arguing. All beady eyes turned to look at you at the pointed end of a sword. 

“Vile thing,” he spat out, angling the edge of his weapon to your throat, “full of lies and deceit. I will prove it to you, brothers. I will take a bite right on that very mark.” 

What an absolutely spectacular way for your plan to have backfired. You started moving back only to be pinned down by the rat guai behind you. Your struggles were nothing in his tight grip. Panic sent your heart into your throat. 

“Your limbs will rot off your bones, you will wish for a quick death!” You cried, but even to your ears it sounded too desperate and pitifully unconvincing. 

Your arms were chafing as you helplessly wrestled against your constraints. He opened his jaws, wide enough to take both your arm and shoulder. You saw his yellowed teeth dripping with saliva. In one quick movement, he bit down. You cried out, bracing yourself for the pain of torn flesh. It never came. 

In between the jaws of the rat leader was the end of a staff. You saw broken teeth shatter as gums oozed with blood. The rat leader was forcefully pushed back, howling in pain. The staff was then flipped before smashing against the hand that was pinning you down. The Destined One kicked the rat guard aside, dropping down from the sentry building. A protective arm shielded you while the other corrected the position of his staff. 

Relief flooded you like a newfound spring. He had been alright. He had survived his fight. He had made it to you. He spun his staff slowly, readying himself. Someone gave a battle cry. The Young Sage leapt forward.

The sloppy movements you saw earlier weren’t being seen here. He was precise yet viciously ruthless. He was tearing them apart, executing them in ways you hadn’t seen before. Jaws were being broken, bodies of rat guais were being used as shields against archers, you watched as he kicked a rat into someone else’s drawn weapon before executing them both with a blow from his staff. Their bodies dropped then disintegrated one after the other. 

He’d killed them all save for one. When he dashed to the last enemy. You finally saw his face illuminated by the firelight. Fangs bared, eyes blazing, his expression was carved into unfiltered fury. You watched as he launched himself upwards, silhouetted by the moon, he spun three times in the air with the last spin having him crash his staff down on the final rat, shattering its skull. Not even a moment before the last enemy was defeated his head flicked to you. In several quick strides he was at your side, tearing apart your restraints with his teeth. 

Unbound, your arms immediately found their way around his neck as they’ve done so many times before. Only this time, you weren’t asleep. A sob bubbled up from your throat as you buried your head into his shoulder. The terror of your life being at the end of rat guais tearing at your body was finally allowed to settle in your heart. Just above your fear, you felt elation. You were overjoyed to see him again, alive and safe. You let him go to look him over. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, tears flowing freely down your face. “Were you injured? Have you rested at a shrine?” Your hands went to his body, eyes scanning for any injuries. You were interrupted by him pulling you into a tight embrace. As you buried your face into his chest you heard him let out a long, relieved sigh which shook his frame. 

~

The moon was high as he carried you back to camp in his arms. It took a long time for him to be satisfied from inspecting you, especially with your sleeve torn and wound exposed. You didn’t object when he swept you off your feet. The whole ordeal left you completely exhausted. As he carried you, you recounted what happened with the rats to him. He seemed amused at the made up tale you fed the rats. He particularly liked the part where you said he’d taken you from an altar of sacrifice. 

“You did just steal me from a feast starring my immortal and or cursed flesh,” you said mischievously. “Who can say what I told was a complete lie?” That got a nice smile from him. 

The nights in this barren valley were quick to become cold. Brisk winds sent a shiver through you. The Destined One pulled you a bit closer to him. The waxing moon was high, you listened to the sounds of disturbed sand. In the distance, you heard the call of an owl. 

“On that bridge, when you were fighting that Acolyte,” you began, listening to his steady, rhythmic steps, “you weren’t fighting the way you usually do.” The Destined One kept his gaze forward. Realizing what you knew now made you want to cup his cheek to have him look at you. You touched your torn sleeve instead. 

“I saw what worrying about me did to you-how it,” you hesitated, “distracted you.” The Destined One’s pace didn’t falter, but from the corner of your eye you saw his tail flicking nervously behind him. 

“On any other day I would’ve scolded you, but today I don’t want to be a pot and reduce you to a kettle. If I hadn’t left the place I was hiding this may not have happened,” you took a breath, “But I was afraid…for you.” The Destined One gave you a look that made you want to roll your eyes. 

“Yes, I know of all creatures I could worry about, you should be the last of them. I know how strong you are and you’ve proven your might more than enough times but you’re not-you’re-” you steadied yourself, focusing on the way his hands tightened ever so slightly. 

You continued,“I don’t know what would happen if you were to fall in battle and I never wish to. It’s not that I believe someone as strong as you would, but the possibility of it alone terrifies me.” 

You sighed, letting out a hollow laugh, “That must be what you’ve been feeling all this time since I got hurt and why you started to treat me like a porcelain egg.” The Destined One looked at you. You watched his expression flash from concern to something closer to understanding. 

“I can promise you I won’t be doing something that foolish again. Can you promise to stop thinking the next gust of wind would shatter me?” You asked, hand nervously playing with your torn sleeve. 

The young monkey took a moment to think about it. You waited while contemplating flicking him on the head if he disagreed. Luckily for him, he did agree by giving you a nod. You smiled at him, pleased. You saw his eyes flick down to your lips. It was so fast you almost didn’t catch it. You didn’t have time to wonder if you imagined it either because in the next moment The Destined One tripped. He reacted quickly, finding his balance again as you clung to his robe. Then he straightened up and continued walking like nothing happened. 

You pressed your lips together, failing to suppress a chuckle that escaped you. You looked at your companion, seeing his fur bristle. His usual poker face simply added to the moment. He watched as you laughed, careful with his steps as he returned you to the camp. 

~

The night air had turned frigid. You warmed your hands by the fire then cupped your face to spread the warmth. It doubled as an excuse to hide your expression. With a night like this you knew you’d wake up in his arms again in the morning after your body moves on its own. A thought that filled you with mixed excitement and dread. Since the two of you had returned, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you saw while he carried you back. Your thoughts were a storm raging behind your eyes. 

You looked at your companion on the other side of the fire. The Destined One was as collected as ever, patiently mending your torn sleeve. He truly seemed fully unconcerned, content even. This made you feel even more irritated. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the large sleeves extending past your hands. A consequence from him not letting you lift a finger for any task, including washing clothing, was that you had nothing to wear. He’d lent you one of  his robes while he made the needed repairs. The one you were wearing had scarcely been used since he’d upgraded his armor. Even still, you could smell him on you. This thought had you cover your face again in frustration. You’ve had enough of this. 

You got up from the fire and made your way over to the Young Sage. He didn’t glance up from his task. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to him to talk or watch his work. You scooted closer till your legs were touching. Again, he was unperturbed. You frowned at his lack of reaction, he was much too accustomed to your proximity. You froze. Realization hitting you like a nice forceful push off a cliff. 

You revisited the mornings, countless mornings where the two of you were intertwined. You remembered nights where you would purposely try to sleep further away from him only to still wake up in his arms, flustered. You knew he was aware of you seeking him out in the night. He never did anything to stop you. No, it wasn't just that he never did anything to stop you.

The final piece slotted into place. A sly smile crept on your lips. You propped your arm onto your knee, chin resting on your hand. 

“I don’t think we’ve been honest with each other,” you said. You didn’t need to do much observation to know he’s listening. He’s always listening to you, even if his obedience could be called into question. 

“Back at the beginning of this journey, when I had joined you, there was this particularly cold night.” You watched him closely. He continued to work, but you noticed the slightest twitch of his fingers. You continued, “I remembered waking up on top of you. I crawled to you in my sleep. I didn’t mean to do it that time or all the times afterwards. I figured you were politely ignoring it for my sake.” 

The Destined one continued his task, though his tail began flicking in that nervous way it does again. You didn’t let yourself take a moment to be cautious or hesitate. Before doubt takes a hold of you, you have to keep going or else this cycle will start again. You sat up, arms crossing in front of you. 

“How many times did I go to you before you started coming to me?” 

The Young Sage froze. You saw him take a moment to think. Then he held up four digits. You flushed. Even though you were the one who asked, finally having him acknowledge it made you feel embarrassed. You shoved the feeling aside. 

“Were you worried I was cold?” You asked. He nodded, continuing where he left off with his task. You swallowed, “Was it only because you thought I was cold?” 

He paused again. You waited. Your heart was thundering in your chest so loud it echoed in your ears. You could no longer hear the crackling of the fire. Truly, this silent monkey makes you wait several eternities for every answer. Finally, the Destined One shook his head. He put down the garment and turned to look at you. You opened and closed your mouth, stuck with finding what else to say now that you had his full attention. He looked at your lips again. This time, he made sure you knew where he was looking. The two of you were moving closer together. Inches apart, you looked into his eyes. Always so kind, always so patient. But now you saw something else, something he'd been keeping well hidden. 

“This whole time,” you said, voice lowered to almost a whisper, “I thought I was imagining things.” The Destined One’s eyes were half-lidded, waiting-expecting. He was less than an inch away. The sound of your heart was deafening. You asked your last question, “Am I still imagining things?” 

Your lips met his. A gentle kiss full of nerves and hesitation. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, it was too close to tell. Your hands clutched at his robe, the kiss deepened. His other hand cupped your face as you pulled him closer to you. He was warm and tasted like the fruit you had for dinner. He felt like everything you had imagined countless times and more. 

You pulled back first, terrified of the prospect of your heart exploding. He leaned towards you again, chasing you. This kiss was deeper, needier. He pushed you down until your back touched the ground. His hands ran through your hair, lingered on your neck, then slid down your back. Each time he touched you, you felt his nails grazing your skin sending shivers through you. He wasn’t satisfied with just your lips. Hungry nips, bites, and licks went to your neck down towards your chest which was becoming exposed as his robe slipped down your frame. One of his hands held yours, pinning you down as you squirmed and twitched beneath him. The other continued to trail down your body. Your breathing was becoming heavy, you couldn’t control the sounds your throat was making. He was greedily consuming you. It was like he’d finally found a feast after months of famine. You let out a moan as he trailed his tongue down from your chest to your stomach. This made him grip your waist tightly, nails digging a bit too deep into your flesh. You cried out in surprise. Immediately, he lets go, reminded of your delicate human body. 

He made to move further back when you held onto his wrist. “I’m okay,” you said breathlessly. What a mess you must’ve looked: face flushed, hair in disarray, wearing his clothes, and sporting his marks. In his eyes you saw that it still held that same insatiable hunger. With your meager strength you pulled him back. This time, at your request, he didn’t stop. 

~

You woke up in his arms once again before the sun had barely broken through the horizon. You rubbed your eyes, shivering in the cold, quiet morning. The Destined One, well awake, pulled you back closer to him. 

[victimofthemusic]

The words in front of Cory are starting to blur on the pages and he’s fighting off his sixth yawn in the last ten minutes when he hears the familiar thump outside his window, followed by a softly muttered curse that makes Cory have to stifle a grin.

The glass panes rattle, the hinges giving a quiet as the window slides open and Cory doesn’t even bother to look up when he hears the soles Shawn’s scuffed boots land safely on the carpet of his bedroom.

“You’re late.” Is Cory’s greeting as his eyes skim over his paper, scratching out a spelling error and writing the correct spelling above it.

“I know, I know,” Shawn murmurs, pressing a placating kiss in the slope of Cory’s neck and Cory feels any traces of earlier annoyance (worry) fade the minute those cool lips press against his skin. “I’m sorry, I got held up.”

Or--

A late-night visit, a discussion of the future, and the realization that this thing between them could actually be forever.