#it took me like two weeks to get used to checking I was reblogging on the right account

[skzdust]

Rock Will Never Die

Pure smut. MINORS DNI.

This took me almost three weeks. The season's greetings has been eating me alive. So. Omegaverse rock band ateez. 6.7k words of it, which is by far my longest smut. Please enjoy <3

Big thanks to @kpop---scenarios, who helped me decide which members were alphas/betas/omegas, and for generally helping on this one!!! I appreciate you sm!!

Update 2.26.25: Sequel! Go check out Whatever Will We Do?

Update 3.31.25: Second sequel! Go check out Worth It!

Summary: Y/n, manager of rock band Ateez, is out of heat suppressants after a show. Luckily, all 8 members of her band are there to help.

Pairing: Ateez x reader

Includes: omegaverse, LOTSSSSS of smut, porn without plot, omega reader, spitroasting, double penetration, knotting, unprotected sex (you did not come here for sex ed but please be safe irl!!!)

Word count: 6.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You bit your lip as you pawed through your bag, looking for your suppressants. You could taste blood before you found the little orange bottle. You pushed down on it, opening the lid, and—

Empty. Not a single pill left. 

“Fuck.” You whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

You turned around. Mingi was standing there, freshly showered in grey sweatpants and a blue T-shirt, a concerned look on his face. 

He looked so fucking good, you restrained yourself from jumping at him then and there. You could feel yourself getting more and more desperate, and you swallowed.

“You smell really anxious.” Hongjoong looked over from where he was relaxing in an armchair, still in his stage makeup and outfit. His striped knit hat was askew on his head. 

“I— well—” You stammered. “I’m— God, this is embarrassing.”

“What?” Mingi raised his eyebrows. “It can’t be that bad.”

You gave a small, involuntary whimper. “I’m out of heat suppressants… and there’s one coming on.”

“Well, shit.” Mingi said softly. “That’s not great.”

“And it’s not like you can really stop it once it starts.” Hongjoong said. 

“Exactly.”

“Hey, calm down.” Mingi’s voice was soothing. “We’ll find a solution for this.”

“What?” You whined. “I don’t have an alpha, and we’re in a hotel, and I don’t have any of my—” You swallowed. “Er, stuff. What’s the solution?”

Mingi and Hongjoong looked at each other for a long moment. “I mean… we could help you.”

You’d been the manager of Ateez for about a year now. They’d always been incredibly talented, but they’d needed someone with your managerial and business sense to catapult them into the stardom they now enjoyed. 

And as their manager, to make sure they maintained that stardom, you had to keep close with them. Ride on the tour bus with them, stay in the same hotel rooms, go to all the same bars and after parties. 

(Okay, so maybe you had some personal motives to that, too. Maybe the members of Ateez were the eight hottest men you’d ever seen. Maybe you fantasized about the aspects of them you saw both on and off stage. Maybe you thought about them when you were at home on your heat days, fucking yourself with a toy.)

But you’d never thought you’d be alone in a hotel room with two of the group’s four alphas with no heat suppressants. 

Especially not with them offering to help you.

They must’ve noticed your hesitation, because Hongjoong smiled softly. “If you don’t want us to, we don’t have to.”

“No! No, help— help— please help me.” You stammered, then more quietly added, “I need you.” 

“Shit.” Mingi said. “You’re all desperate.”

“I’m going into heat.” You huffed. “Of course I’m desperate.”

“No, I know. It’s just hot. You want a knot?”

His teasing sent a wave of arousal through you. “Stop it.”

“I don’t think so.” He smirked. “I like watching you squirm, y/n.”

You could feel slick leaking out of your hole, and you bit your lip.

“Enough, Min.” Hongjoong stood up. “I’m the captain, I’m going first.”

“Aw, but I don’t want to wait.” Mingi pouted. 

“Contact the others while I fuck her, then you guys can watch while you all wait your turn.”

You gave a long moan from where you were still crouched beside your bag. Hongjoong looked at you. “Slut. You like the idea of all of us fucking you, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Hongjoong had never talked to you like this before, always sweet and gentlemanly as could be.

“When you text Woo, tell him he owes me.” Hongjoong said to Mingi, but he kept his eyes on you. “She seems to like being degraded, so I won that bet. Get on the bed for me, pretty.”

“Bet?” You obeyed, getting onto the bed.

“Me and Woo have had some money on your kinks.” He said, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do.

Mingi snickered. “Pervert.”

You were, inexplicably, into this, and Hongjoong could tell it made you hornier. He laughed. “You smell even sweeter. You like that? Me and Wooyoung talking about how we’d like to fuck you?”

“Mhm.” You whined. “Can— um, can…” You trailed off, realizing how desperate your request sounded. 

“Use your words.” Hongjoong climbed onto the bed, over you, trapping you beneath him. “What is it?”

“Can you fuck me at the same time?” You whispered. 

Hongjoong grinned, turning over his shoulder. “Mingi, you can tell Woo there’s a consolation prize for losing.”

You whined as he looked back at you. “Please, Joong. Alpha. Need you.”

He slid his hand into your hair and pulled you into a searing kiss. “Need you too, pretty. Take all those clothes off, you’re not gonna need them.”

You hurried to obey him, getting your shirt and skirt off as fast as you could. 

“Look at your body.” He murmured, his eyes raking over you. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You blushed, more slick leaking out of you. “Please, Hongjoong.”

“Ah-ah.” He raised his eyebrows. “You call me alpha, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You whispered. “Please, alpha.”

He smirked. “How can I resist when you ask so nicely?”

You whimpered as his hand came down to rub at your pussy. His touch felt so good, and all you wanted was to whine and rut into his hand, but you restrained yourself.

“So well-behaved.” He remarked, pulling his hand back and rubbing his fingers together, watching your slick drip down his hand. “I just know you’re gonna feel so good around me.” With that, he pushed three fingers inside you, and you moaned. 

“Fuck, Hong—alpha.” You breathed. “Feels so good, alpha. I… I want your cock, though.”

“Greedy little thing.” He laughed softly. “You’re gonna fucking get it, aren’t you? So be patient.”

You bit your lip again as he began rubbing his thumb around your clit. “Does that feel good, pretty? Is that what you need?”

You swallowed. It was a trick question, and you weren’t going to answer it.

“Answer me.” He added a fourth finger. 

“Ah! Yes, it’s good, but I need more, please, Joong—alpha!” 

He sighed. “Can’t even remember what to call me. I guess I just gotta fuck that disobedience out of you, don’t I?”

“Yes.” You squeaked. “Yes, you do.”

Hongjoong pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Your mouth began to water at the sight. He threw them across the room. “Mingi, when are the others coming?” You’d forgotten he was even there.

“Soon, I think.” 

You looked over Hongjoong’s shoulder to see Mingi watching you, his phone in his hand, practically drooling. 

“Good.” Hongjoong said. “I want to make good on Woo’s consolation prize.”

Fuck. He’d been serious? You couldn’t wait for Wooyoung to arrive. 

Hongjoong pushed his cock through your folds, coating it in slick. “So messy, pretty.”

You just watched him, breathing hard. 

He lined himself up with your entrance. You could just feel him starting to press himself in when there was the loud sound of a door opening. You, Hongjoong, and Mingi all turned around to look at it. 

San and Seonghwa walked in, both dressed in dark t-shirts and sweatpants. San’s eyebrows were raised as he took in the sight. “Oh, look at that, Hongjoong’s about to fuck y/n. What did you say, Mingi? She’s in heat?”

You could hear the smirk in Mingi’s voice. “Yeah, she’s definitely in heat.”

You didn’t even realize you’d started breathing so hard until Seonghwa walked over to you and put a hand over your mouth. “There. You can start, Joongie.”

“Don’t need your permission.” Hongjoong sounded a bit irked, but grinned at Seonghwa as he slid inside you. You moaned long and loud into Seonghwa’s hand. You felt so full… but it still wasn’t enough.

“Fuck me.” You asked, and it came out muffled, but Hongjoong could definitely tell what you meant because he laughed meanly.

“Is there something you want, pretty? Use your words, I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me, alpha, please.” You tried again, and you could hear Seonghwa’s snicker. 

Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, pursing his lips. Seonghwa leaned down and gave him a long kiss. You were a little surprised. You didn’t know they did that. 

Hongjoong looked at you after a moment. “I guess I can start fucking her now.”

“You should.” Seonghwa took his hand away from your mouth. “She was about to bite my finger or something. She’s so fucking horny.”

You wanted to snap out that you were in heat, of course you were fucking horny, but you held back. You wanted to submit, to be a good girl (to be their good girl) more.

“Fuck.” San said from where he sat on the end of the bed. “Damn, she’s so wet, I call next.”

“I was here first.” Mingi said indignantly.

Hongjoong abruptly pulled his hips back before snapping them back into you. You gave a long moan. This was what you needed, someone to fuck you long and deep and hard, into the mattress, someone to fuck a litter into you, someone to knot you and breed you and—

San cut into your thoughts. “No, I said it first. You and I both know the second someone starts to dominate you you’re gonna want to be a good boy, so shut up before I have to punish you.”

San’s voice was smug, or you thought so, most of the thoughts had left your head as Hongjoong had started to fuck you in earnest. His cock was so big, and so good, and filled you up just right. You couldn’t fucking wait for him to knot you. 

Mingi and San went suspiciously quiet. Honestly, though, you didn’t even care who won the argument, who got your body next, so long as they kept going the way Hongjoong was going. 

The door clicked open again, and you whined as Hongjoong stopped. “Alpha, can you please— why’d you stop?”

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa’s voice was practically a purr. 

You shivered. Wooyoung. 

“Hey, Woo, get over here.”

Wooyoung was in a black satin robe, a sash tied around his waist. His hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He smiled as he saw you. “Oh, God, you’re so gorgeous like this.”

“Right?” Hongjoong thrust inside again. “She feels so fucking tight. Want her mouth?”

Your eyes widened as Wooyoung smiled. “D’you want me, baby?”

“Yes.” 

Hongjoong pulled out for a brief moment to readjust, and you whined at the sudden emptiness. 

“Shh, pretty, it’s gonna be okay, you’ll be so full soon.” He murmured to you, helping you move so your head dangled over the side of the bed. You looked up to see Wooyoung untying his robe, revealing absolutely nothing underneath. He left it on, untied, as he gently pulled you close to him.

You were practically salivating at this point. His cock looked so good. He was gonna fill your mouth up, and Hongjoong—

Before you could finish your thought, Hongjoong pushed back inside you. You moaned, and Wooyoung took the opportunity to slide into your mouth. “So good for me.” He murmured, holding onto your hair. 

It felt so good, being full from both ends. “Fuck me.” You moaned, although it came out muffled and distorted around Wooyoung’s cock. “Fuck me, alpha.”

Hongjoong grunted and began to do as you’d asked, aligning his thrusts with Wooyoung’s so you were pushed back and forth between them. 

Through your cock-drunk haze you could hear Mingi whining. Your eyes darted over to him as best you could, only to see San pulling his cock out and slapping Mingi across the face with it before grabbing onto his hair. “Open up, slut.”

Mingi obeyed, his tongue lolling out. San groaned as he started to fuck Mingi’s face. Even just from glimpses you could see San’s cock was huge, much bigger than most betas. It was bigger than some alphas you’d seen, even.

You couldn’t wait for it to fuck you.

Hongjoong noticed. “Like watching Sannie fuck Mingi’s face, pretty?”

You moaned in the affirmative, spit leaking out around Wooyoung’s cock.

“Fuck, so messy.” Wooyoung sighed. “Such a good girl.”

That sent another shiver through you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. He sighed again. “Fuck, keep looking at me like that and I just won’t stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. You looked at him for another moment before looking back over to San and Mingi, who were still… busy. 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung kept going as you watched them. San slapped Mingi, and as you watched his hands drifted down to his lap. San slapped him again. “No, bad boy. You don’t touch that alpha cock. That’s my job.”

“Fuck, San, tell him.” Wooyoung’s fingers tightened in your hair. “Make him be a good boy.”

Wooyoung’s commentary on San and Mingi’s oral was only making you wetter. It was really fucking hot to watch him make Mingi submit, and to see how whiny and teary Mingi got when he was being fucked, even in his mouth. You wondered what he’d look like with a cock at both ends. Like you.

Wooyoung and Hongjoong kept going, kept using you. Your body jerked between the two of them. You were mostly along for the ride. You could feel the slick between your legs as Hongjoong kept fucking into your pussy, and Wooyoung’s hands in your hair turned almost gentle, combing through it as he continued with your mouth. 

It was a nice contrast, Hongjoong rutting into you like a feral animal while Wooyoung stroked your hair and shallowly fucked your mouth. You closed your eyes. 

You opened them a second later as a loud whimper filled the room. You looked over to see Seonghwa yanking Mingi’s hair back, pulling him off San’s cock. “Sannie doesn’t get to cum yet, he’s not wasting it on you.”

Before you could see what they did next, Wooyoung’s hands suddenly fisted in your hair, pulling you down onto his cock. “Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum.” He held you in place, his hips moving madly. He was in your throat at this point, and fuck it felt so good to be so full at both ends, to be used so thoroughly by your band members. 

Wooyoung came, and you tried your best to be a good girl, to take it all, to let him use you, but you coughed as he pulled back.

“Good slut.” He whispered, leaning down to peck your forehead. 

You looked up at him with glazed eyes. “Good for you?”

“So good for me.” He smiled. 

You turned over your shoulder. “Please, need a knot.”

“A knot?” Hongjoong’s smirk was evident even in his somewhat breathless voice. “You want a knot, why not beg alpha for it?”

“Please!” You cried out, uncaring if you woke up the whole hotel. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need it so bad.” 

Hongjoong laughed, but it was more of a loud exhale with the effort of his thrusts. “I’ll give you a knot.”

He pushed into you, and you could feel something stretching you wide. 

Hongjoong’s knot. 

He came, deep inside you, his knot inflating. Wooyoung pressed a hand to your stomach, grinning at the way you felt full. “You really bred her, huh, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong reached around to hug you. “C’mon, pretty, relax with me.”

You hummed, pliant, laying down with Hongjoong as he curled up on the bed. Wooyoung joined you, pulling a blanket over your connected forms and cuddling into your other side.

“Thanks Woo, thanks, Joong.” You whispered. 

“No need to thank us.” Wooyoung kissed your neck, long and leisurely. “Always glad to fuck our favorite girl’s mouth. Whenever you want it.”

Hongjoong moved his leg, readjusting. You held back a moan at the slight motion of his cock inside you. “Yeah, we really should be thanking you, for letting us help you through your heat.”

“It’s not over yet.” You mumbled. “I’ve got a knot in me now, but as soon as it goes down… my heats tend to last some time.”

“Well, luckily for you, there are eight of us.” Hongjoong smiled.

The bed dipped as someone else got on. Wooyoung groaned in protest. “Hwa, let us have our moment.”

Seonghwa laughed softly. “I just wanted to join, not trying to ruin any moments.” 

You absently started to stroke Wooyoung’s hair with one hand while you reached out for Seonghwa with the other. 

Seonghwa smiled, leaning down to kiss you. “So beautiful, but you’re a needy thing, aren’t you?”

Out of the band’s members, you loved all of them in their own ways, but Seonghwa had always held a special allure. He was incredibly talented. The man played guitar and did vocals, none of the other members filled multiple roles like that. And he was sex on legs when he was onstage, singing duets with frontman San like they were in love. It drove the fangirls insane. 

And you, but that wasn’t something you’d wanted to admit until now. 

“Needy.” You nodded in agreement.

  Seonghwa gave you another, longer kiss. This one was sweet, but it had an undercurrent of seduction that yanked you in and kept you there. He was trying to turn you on again, and though Hongjoong’s knot was still locked inside you, it would not be a difficult task.

“Hwa… Joong’s still inside me.” You whined. 

Seonghwa bit your earlobe, making you twitch and gasp and arch your back. Hongjoong’s dick twitched inside you at that, and he groaned. 

“Well, as soon as he’s done, it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

The words sent shivers through you. “I thought San and Mingi were arguing about that.”

“They’re still… busy.” 

You looked over Seonghwa’s shoulder to see San sitting in the armchair Hongjoong had been in earlier, scrolling on his phone. His legs were spread, and Mingi knelt between them. “Don’t drool on my pants.” San said, his voice bored, but you could see the little smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck.” You whispered. “That’s hot.”

“Mingi and San like to be rough.” Seonghwa smiled. “It’s quite fun to watch. You’ll have to join us more often.”

Hongjoong let out a strangled moan as you clenched down on him. You had no idea what they were, you had no idea what you were with them. You did know, however, that you loved them, and they loved you. And now everyone was fucking, you guessed? But whatever. It seemed to work.

And it seemed you’d fit in with them quite well.

 But you didn’t dwell on that too long, because when Seonghwa kissed you again, another wave of slick rushed out of you.

“Hongjoong.” You whimpered. “I need— I need—”

“I know.” Hongjoong kissed your neck. Wooyoung joined in, too, licking up the other side. “It’ll go down in just a second, and then Seonghwa can take his turn.” 

The phrasing, his turn, turned you on so much. Seonghwa, just like the others, got to use your body. They all would. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you rocked your body back onto Hongjoong’s cock. He hissed in overstimulation. You tried to be kind, to think of him, but your body just wanted to be fucked, more and more and more. You just held yourself back. 

They kept kissing you for a few more minutes, your body burning, until Hongjoong’s knot started to go down. You whined as he pulled out, suddenly empty. “Seonghwa…”

“I know, baby.” He got his pants off, and you almost started drooling at the sight of his long cock.

Seonghwa slid inside you, and you sighed at the sensation. “Fuck...”

Hongjoong and Wooyoung went off to shower, kissing you one more time before they left. Seonghwa set a languid pace, rolling his hips deep inside you. You were both panting after a few minutes, and you threw your head back. “Need it harder, alpha.”

Seonghwa laughed softly. “Alpha? I’m a beta, baby, but I’m happy to fuck you harder.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Sorry, Hwa, I didn’t mean to…”

Seonghwa stopped for a moment to kiss your head. “Nothing to apologize for. If anything, it’s kind of a compliment. But I know you need a knot right now.”

You swallowed, nodding.

Seonghwa thrust into you a few more times before turning over his shoulder with a sly smile. “Mingi, get your submissive ass over here.”

Mingi pulled off of San’s cock, his eyes heavily lidded, spit dripping down his chin. He looked obscene, fucked-out without even having been fucked. 

“You heard him.” San patted his cheek just softly enough to be a pat and not a slap. “Get over there.”

“Mhm.” Mingi climbed onto the bed, sitting in front of Seonghwa. 

He smiled. “Such a good boy… why doesn’t our good fuckpet satisfy y/n? Give her the knot she needs.” His voice was patronizing, condescending, but based on the significant bulge in Mingi’s pants, he was getting off on it. 

Mingi nodded. “Wanna be a good boy for you, sir. Wanna make y/n feel good.”

A shiver ran through you. 

“Why don’t you take off your clothes, then, and lay down on your back.” Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a suggestion, Mingi.”

Mingi squeaked, moving faster than you’d ever seen him move to get his pants and shirt off. He propped himself up on the pillows, looking at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock, standing hard and full.

Seonghwa smiled and scratched his head. Mingi leaned into his hand. “Good boy. Y/n, why don’t you come ride him for me?”

You inhaled sharply and pulled away from Seonghwa’s cock, instead positioning yourself over Mingi’s and grabbing onto his shoulder. He looked at you with the most pathetic, desperate expression you’d ever seen. “Please, y/n.”

You sank onto his cock, moaning as every inch of it filled you up. He whimpered as you seated yourself fully on him, staying still for a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Go on, baby. Use him.” Seonghwa encouraged, voice smooth as satin.

You took a breath and began to bounce on Mingi’s cock, moaning as he hit that spot inside you with every motion. Like the rest of him, his cock was big, and you were euphoric as you felt it deep inside you.

Seonghwa tilted your head towards him. You didn’t stop fucking yourself on Mingi, but you looked at him.

“Aw.” He simpered. “So sweet. The subs are playing nice. You wanna kiss me, baby?”

You nodded enthusiastically, desperately. “Yes, Seonghwa.”

“Sir.” He reminded you.

“Yes, sir.” You rushed to correct yourself. 

“Good.” He murmured, leaning in. He gave you a long kiss that might’ve been sweet if he hadn’t started biting your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth.

Mingi’s whines were a sweet soundtrack to Seonghwa’s kisses. He sounded so desperate and submissive, a far cry from the Mingi you knew onstage or even off. 

“Can Mingi fuck me now?” You whined against Seonghwa’s mouth. “I’m tired.”

“Of course, baby.” Seonghwa helped position the two of you so Mingi could start fucking into you. He rubbed Mingi’s back for a moment before suddenly scratching down his spine. Mingi moaned, arching his back and pushing his cock deep into you.

“Good boy.” Seonghwa whispered. “Y/n wants you to fuck her, so make sure you do a good job.”

Mingi began rutting into you with the same fervor that Hongjoong had, only with a lot more whimpering and big puppy eyes. “Am I doing good for you, sir?”

Seonghwa grabbed Mingi’s hair and forced him to look at you. “Ask her if you’re doing good.” He looked at you. “Baby, be honest.”

“Am— am I doing good?” Mingi’s voice was small.

“So full.” You said, your voice breathy. “So good, Mingi, Seonghwa… Mingi,  don’t stop.”

Seonghwa laughed meanly. “For someone with such a nice cock, it’s kind of funny how little Mingi uses it.”  He yanked his head back. “He loves being stuffed full so much. So I’m sure this is a nice change of pace for him.”

Mingi looked at him. “She’s so tight… I’m gonna… sir, I can’t last much longer.”

“Knot her. Give her what she wants.” Seonghwa leaned down to speak into your ear. “He’s gonna breed you so full, isn’t he?”

Mingi pushed into you one last time before his knot expanded and you were locked together. You could feel him start to cum inside you, and you whined, shaking as your own orgasm overtook you.

When you came back into reality, Mingi was collapsed by your side, breathing hard. Seonghwa was furiously working his hand on his cock, and you watched, transfixed. 

“Good boy, Mingi.” He breathed. “Good girl, y/n. You both did so good for me.”

You made a pleased noise, and that seemed to send him over the edge. He spilled onto his fist, his hips jerking up into it.

“’M sorry I wanted a knot.” You muttered, feeling bad Seonghwa didn’t get to finish inside you.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” Seonghwa said, looking around for a towel. “You have no idea how much I like watching.”

Your face got hot at the words. “Oh… well… that’s good.”

He finally found one, wiping off his hands. Mingi wrapped his arms around you as Seonghwa laid down on your other side. You were sandwiched in a giant Minhwa hug, and it was heavenly. 

You didn’t quite fall asleep, but you were definitely drifting off cuddling with them. Having a knot inside you and two of your eight favorite people in the world with you made you feel happy and safe.

You heard the door open, but you didn’t care enough to look and see who it was, at least not until someone came over to you, and you heard two people messily kissing.

You opened your half-asleep eyes to see Mingi and Yunho making out, almost directly over your face. It was quite a sight to wake up to, and you moaned almost without realizing it. 

They broke apart, both smiling down at you. 

“Hi, sunshine.” Yunho leaned down to peck your forehead, and Mingi adjusted, moving his cock inside you. You whined at that, oversensitive but your body still craving more. 

They ignored you, kissing each other again. You could feel Mingi’s knot starting to go down, and you pushed yourself back onto him, chasing the fullness. It was too late, though, he was pulling out, whispering an apology to you. “Sorry, Yunho’s gonna go next, though, okay?”

Your body was so hot, the ache between your legs so strong that you just looked at Mingi with big eyes. “Is he gonna fuck me?”

Yunho laughed. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just make you lay there and stay still. Hold me deep inside you.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep it together, but Yunho continues.

“You just wanna get fucked so bad, isn’t that right, you want me to breed you and make it feel so good… maybe I’ll just make you take me the way I want it, hm?”

You knew Yunho was an alpha. But he’d always been sweet and kind to you. He’d never teased you like this.

His large hands moved over your form, caressing you, your tits, your waist, your ass, rubbing your pussy. You stretched out, opening yourself up to all of him. 

He laughed and unzipped his pants, revealing his cock straining against his boxers. You whimpered just looking at the bulge. 

“Stop teasing, Yunho.” Seonghwa’s voice was playful. “Don’t you see how much she needs it?”

You gave Seonghwa a grateful look before turning your attention back to Yunho. “Please, Yunho.”

“I love your begging.” He smiled, but there was no kindness in it. It was toothy, almost predatory. He completely took his pants off and positioned himself over you like he was about to fuck you. His boxers were still on, and the cotton rubbed against your clit as he rubbed against you. You whined weakly, feeling almost dizzy with the need to be full.

“What did I say, Yunho.” Seonghwa’s voice was firmer now. “She’s in heat. Be nice.”

Yunho sighed, and before you knew what he was doing, you were flipped on your stomach, your knees propped up under you and your face pressed into the pillows. 

“You wanna get fucked?” Yunho’s voice was almost a growl. Clearly he was not happy at Seonghwa’s interference. “I’ll fuck you, sunshine.”

A thrill went through your body at his roughness. You could feel his tip at your entrance, and you took a deep breath. 

Yunho pushed inside in one swift motion, and the breath you’d just taken whooshed out of your lungs. He was so deep inside you, so big, so good…

And then he started moving. With every deep thrust, you felt like you might cum that second. He was so rough, his fingers digging into your hips. You knew for sure there would be bruises the next morning. 

Yunho fucked you like he hated you, and as he leaned over your back, you could feel he was still wearing his sweater and buttons from the show. The pins felt cold on your back, and you shivered. 

“You like it like that? You like it when I fuck you rough?”

You nodded. “Yes, alpha.” 

“You know, you really should share with Sannie.” Seonghwa’s voice was light, lilting. “He’s been waiting so patiently.”

You could hear rustling behind you, and a whimper that sounded like Mingi’s. It was probably San standing up, and you wondered if Mingi had returned to sucking him off as soon as his knot had gone down and he’d left the bed.

Yunho fucking growled. 

You whined, the display of dominance turning you on more, but the rest of the room went silent. 

“I’m so sorry.” Yunho said immediately, stilling his hips. “Oh my God, I did not mean to do that.”

“It’s okay.” San said, and he sounded genuine. “Take your time with y/n, I’ll get my turn after.”

You did your best to stay still, trying not to ruin their conversation, but you needed him fucking inside you. 

“Thank you, San.” Yunho’s voice turned to you. “You alright, sunshine?”

“Mhm.” Your voice was small. “Yes, Alpha.”

“You want more?” Yunho’s voice turned smooth, slippery. 

“Yes.” You breathed.

“Yunho?” 

You pushed yourself up from the bed at that voice. “Yeosang?” You hadn’t even heard him come in.

But there he was, sitting cross legged on the bed beside you. You could see the fabric between his legs was dark, clinging to his thighs with slick. 

“What is it, baby?” Yunho hummed.

Yeosang bit his lip. “I fear… y/n may be sending me into heat.”

Your head nearly spun at that. One omega sending another into heat was not something that happened often, not unless the pheromones were just right. It had to be the scents of the alphas in the room who’d already fucked you who had a relationship to Yeosang, right? It couldn’t be you?

Yeosang smelled sweet, smelled needy. You whined. 

“Hey, Sannie? I have an idea.” Seonghwa said. “Why don’t you fuck Yeosang while you wait your turn.”

“Fuck.” San sighed. “I would love to, but I gotta keep disciplining this little slut for now.” There was a strangled noise from probably Mingi. 

You could hear Seonghwa’s smirk in his voice. “Joong? Wanna get over here and fill Sangie up?”

“I can do that.”

You’d almost forgotten about Hongjoong and Wooyoung. You looked around for them and saw Wooyoung laying on the other bed, watching, as Hongjoong got up to position Yeosang beside you. 

He smiled at you. “Hi, y/n.”

“Hi, Yeosang.” You breathed. He was so beautiful, still in his stage makeup, with bronze blush and little star freckles dotting his cheeks. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re pretty.” 

“Can I kiss Yeosang?” You looked over your shoulder at Yunho.

He laughed, thrusting his hips into you. Your head fell back on the pillow in front of you. 

“Yeah, you can kiss him.”

You pulled your head up and looked at Yeosang for a moment, just taking him in. His expression went blissed-out for a moment as Hongjoong slid inside him, and you took that opportunity to pull his face to yours and kiss him.

“Mm, y/n.” He moaned into your mouth. “You taste so good.”

“Wooyoung.” You explained. 

You and Yeosang kept kissing, your hands slowly getting a little more exploratory with each other, while Yunho fucked you and Hongjoong fucked him. It felt so fucking good to have him inside you, and to have two pairs of warm hands on your body. 

You were dimly aware of Seonghwa moving to the other bed, and based on the sounds you were hearing he was touching Wooyoung, but you were too caught up in Yunho and Yeosang to really care. 

You could barely breathe for the size of Yunho’s cock inside you. He wasn’t quite as big as Mingi, but he still felt delicious inside you, hitting spots inside you that made you sigh and whine in pleasure. This was a side of him you’d never seen, and it made you feel so good.

“Fuck me.” You whined. 

“I am, sunshine.” Yunho gripped your hips tighter. “You’re already kissing Sangie, do you need someone else to come over and shut you up with their cock?” His voice turned into a whisper that edged on a growl. “No one else is touching you till I’m done with you.”

Yunho’s possessiveness was really fucking hot. He was a man possessed, fucking you with the fervor of an acolyte worshipping their god. 

Yeosang whimpered, and you looked at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears beading at their corners, and his mouth was wide. You wondered what he’d look like choking on someone’s cock— Mingi’s giant one, maybe. Although it seemed from what Seonghwa had said he wasn’t going to be fucking anyone’s face. Maybe they used Yeosang as a punishment. He’d have to hold Mingi in his mouth while Mingi stayed completely still. You could see it in your mind’s eye, Mingi looking at Hwa or Hongjoong and absolutely begging to thrust down Yeosang’s throat, and them denying him time after time. Maybe he’d even cry.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a particularly rough thrust from Yunho, and you cried out as you felt his knot starting to build at your entrance. “Fuck, Yunho, knot me, please.” You cried. 

“Beg a little harder.” He snarled. 

“Please, please, Yunho, please!” 

“That’s it.” He held you in a punishing grip, forcing his knot into you. You held your hand to your stomach, feeling the bulge of him inside you. He began to cum, groaning, and your orgasm hit you at the same moment. You arched your back, pushing you into a kiss with Yeosang, who returned it with a whine.

Yunho slumped on top of you, pressing a kiss onto your back. “You feel so fucking good, sunshine. Taking my cock so good.”

You sighed. “You feel so good, Yunho.”

The door opened one more time. You knew who it had to be. 

“Jongho.” San said. “Welcome to the orgy!” 

You could smell him as soon as he walked into the room. You’d forgotten he’d started entering pre-rut right after the show, and had decided to sequester himself in his room. It seemed Mingi’s text had encouraged him to come take a turn with you. 

Yunho’s knot went down quickly, deflating at the scent of another alpha clearly ready to fuck you into submission. The look in Jongho’s eyes was downright predatory, but the rest of his expression looked a bit nervous. He was chewing on his lip. “Hey y/n… do you still… need someone?”

You could feel yourself growing distressed at the sensation of so many ateez member’s cum leaking out of you. “Yes, Jongho, please, I need you to fill me up.”

Jongho’s clothes were off him in a flash, and he was on top of you. You were briefly worried that Yunho would get aggressive again, but he seemed spent, moving to take your place making out with Yeosang on the other half of the bed. 

“Not so fast, Choi.” San stood up. “I’ve been waiting though everyone else, it’s my turn.”

Jongho looked thoughtful for a moment. “What if we shared?”

San raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll get inside her… and then you can join me.” He looked between your legs. “I think her little hole can take it.”

You clenched around nothing, breathing hard. The thought of both of them inside you at the same time, fucking you in rhythm, was almost more than your heat-addled brain could handle. You needed them so bad you could barely even get out a whine, your desire choking you.

San smiled. “I like that idea.”

Jongho lined himself up with you, everyone’s cum and your slick making it an easy slide inside. You still gasped as he filled you up. Jongho was so thick, you wondered how San would fit. 

“Fuck.” Jongho’s voice was low. “I’m gonna knot you so hard.”

You took a shaky breath, lifting your hips weakly in an effort to get him to move. 

He laughed and grabbed your legs, starting to push in and out. Your eyes started to lose focus. 

“San, get over here.”

You weren’t even paying attention to how they were positioning themselves, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, but you could feel a finger enter beside Jongho’s cock. 

The stretch was so good. It was intense, but you could handle it. You wanted more. You wanted both of them. 

“More.” You choked out. 

“Slut.” San bit out. “I’ll give you more.” He bypassed two fingers and skipped straight to three. “Good, taking it so well. You’re gonna need to be prepared if you want both of us.”

“Want both of you.”

San sighed. “So impatient.” You could feel something bigger pressing at your entrance, beside Jongho. San swore, Jongho made a high noise, and you panted as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. 

“Beautiful.” Jongho reached down to brush away a piece of your hair. “Beautiful girl.”

You made a pleased noise.

And then you couldn’t make any noise at all as they began to fuck you, alternating thrusts. First San’s cock, then Jongho’s, then San’s, then Jongho’s. It was so much, and the rhythm was uneven at the beginning, making it even nicer when they settled into it. You were overstimulated, your body trembling and leaking slick and taking it so well, as Jongho and San kept telling you.

The room had descended into debauchery. Hongjoong and Yeosang were still going at it, with Yunho stroking Yeosang’s cock. Seonghwa and Wooyoung had begun to fuck Mingi from both ends, and he looked like he was in heaven. And of course Jongho and San were both deep inside you.

You hadn’t expected your night to go like this, not even a little bit, but you were so glad for the turn it had taken.

Jongho groaned. “I’m gonna cum, Sannie.”

San sighed. “Ugh, fine.” He moved up towards your face and held his cock in front of your mouth. “Get me off, y/n.”

You practically started salivating at the sight of his cock, opening your mouth and starting to lick at his tip. 

Jongho gave a few more strong thrusts before his knot inflated. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he locked himself inside you and started to cum, weakly sucking on San. 

As your orgasm passed, you flopped on your back, completely exhausted. 

“It’s okay, baby, I can finish myself off.” San whispered, kissing your forehead. “You were so good for us.” 

You finally felt satiated for the night, satisfied, now that all eight of your boys had had the chance to take a turn with you. Your heat hadn’t broken yet, but you felt safe now. If you had them with you, everything would be okay.

And as the rest of them finished up and crawled on the bed to cuddle with you and the others, you thought that this was what a pack must feel like. 

[rafelandia]

Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.” 

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[aemondsbabe]

The Gods and Everyone

summary: you and aemond sorely overestimate how much time you have before a small council meeting, which leaves the two of you in quite a scandalous predicament

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, cockwarming, public sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, aemond being an absolute menace, dirty talk, aegon being a little shit but what else is new, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: based on an anon request for cockwarming! i hope you're still with me and that you enjoy this, friend! sorry it took me so long to get to it!

creds to @bbygirl-aemond for the gif!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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You watch, concerned, as your husband flits around the Small Council chamber, your eyes following his lithe form as he checks and re-checks the parchment with notes he had written for himself earlier that morning – you’d awoken in the pale hour just before sunrise to see him already hunched over the small desk in your chambers, scribbling away furiously with a quill, his pale hair glowing in the dim light of the candle next to him. All of your attempts to lure him back into bed with you had fallen on deaf ears. 

“You know you needn't do all this,” you point out, perched against the Small Council table, your eyes tracking him as he paces back and forth across the space, going over his notes for the upteenth time, “Your only job is to be on time like everyone else, husband.”

“Things will improve with time,” he rushes out, fixing you with a pointed look, “Hardly two moons have passed since Viserys…” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The least I can do is ease this transition for Aegon and mother.”

“My love, it is a transition for us all,” you soothe, striding to him and gently taking his hand. His fingers, rough from all his years of training with swords and spears, instantly wrap around your own as he lets out a tired sigh, “You included. Aegon named you Master of War, not master of everything.” 

“I know,” Aemond murmurs, eye softening as his gaze traces over you, “I find it hard to be still when there is so much chaos – Dorne has yet to be subdued and there are whispers of rebellion from the North. There is so much still to be accounted for.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, your fingers threading through his long, silvery hair, lips quirking into a smile as the gesture makes his eye flutter closed for a second. “But all this stress cannot be good for you, husband,” you sigh, gazing up at him with a mournful smile, “You need rest and calm and…and I need you.” You nearly whisper, blush creeping across your cheeks as Aemond’s eye darkens. 

“Sweetling—“ He starts with a sigh. 

“Aemond, please,” you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his trim waist as you lay your head against his chest, his heart thumping in your ear, “I cannot bear to hear another excuse, I feel as if you have been away for weeks.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, wrapping his long, lean arms tightly around you as he rests his chin on your head, your breaths the only sound in the stony chamber. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, smoothing a hand up and down your back, “I miss you too, my sweet girl.” 

You hum, leaning further into his embrace after going without it for so long, “You haven’t touched me in weeks.” You say quietly, his touch already igniting a spark in the pit of your stomach. 

“Perhaps tonight,” his breath is warm against the top of your head as he speaks into your hair, “I will try to cut my meeting with–”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” you cut him off once more with a sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “I can’t take anymore, my love, I need to feel you.” You whine, nearly petulant like a spoiled child. If it were any other time, if you were any less desperate, you’d be embarrassed at your behavior. Right now, though, you could not find it within yourself to care as you stared into your husband’s darkened eye, finally feeling the passion you had gone so many weeks without. 

Aemond chuckles as he looks down at you, conflicted between feeling pleased to see you reduced to such a state while also feeling a similar fire in his own belly. “Sweetling, the meeting–”

“Is not due to start for at least another hour!” You interrupt, determined to persuade him to this. Taking you in various parts of the Keep was not new to him, both of you had plenty of memories from your courtship and first year of marriage of rutting together in all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old castle. 

Aemond gazes at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eye remains dark with desire. After a second, he nods to himself almost imperceptibly, seeming to come to some decision you weren’t privy to. Finally, finally his lips descend upon yours as he sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulls you to him, groaning lowly in his throat as he licks into your mouth. You shiver in his grasp, finally tasting him properly after so long as you whimper and whine into his mouth.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you finally part from him, mewling as he immediately trails kisses down your jaw, “What–”

“Seems I can never deny you for very long, sweetling,” he huffs, halfway laughing as he guides you over to the large table, pulling you up by the waist until you’re sitting on the cool stone table, your legs bracketing his trim waist, “I’ve missed you too, my love.” He confesses, sweeping a lock of hair from your shoulder before trailing kisses up across your neck and jaw, one hand already desperately pulling up the bottom of your gown.

You huff out small moans and whimpers, relishing his warm touch. His nimble fingers finally manage to undo the knot at the front of your smallclothes and he tugs them down quickly, leaving you bare for him under your skirts as they fall to a pile on the floor just beside his chair at the table. 

“Husband,” you pant, tugging at the drawstrings at the top of his trousers, “Please, please do not make me beg today, I–” Your train of thought is cut off as a moan, louder than it should be given the location, tears itself from your throat when you feel his long fingers ghost over your center.

“Shh, darling,” Aemond grins as he feels your arousal immediately coat his fingers, a pleased hum emanating from deep in his chest as he feels it already coating the insides of your thighs as well, “I don’t have the patience to restrain myself today, sweet one,” he mutters, watching your face carefully as he spreads your folds and teases your entrance with a finger before carefully sliding it in, groaning with satisfaction at the feel of your walls already tightly clamping down on it, “Nor the time.” He adds with a slight smirk, pale hair cascading like a curtain down his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Oh, Gods,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as your hands white knuckle the dark leather of his tunic, too uncoordinated with lust to manage the ties on his pants, “M-My love, more please!” You whisper, angling your hips to try and catch another of his fingers. 

You hear him chuckle above you before he pulls his finger from you, smirking as you whine pitifully at the loss. Before you have a chance to protest, he quickly undoes his trousers, not bothering to pull them down at all and opting to merely loosen the laces at the front enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen as you watch his hand stroke over his length momentarily, taking in the way it already throbs in his grasp, the head flushed and leaking from merely having you in his hands once more.

“Ready, sweetling?” He asks, gently tilting your chin up as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his other hand positioning his length at your entrance. 

You part from him and nod eagerly, widening your legs and angling your hips, “I’ve been ready for you for weeks, Aemond.” 

He smiles softly, pressing one more kiss against your neck before finally pressing into you, growling as he sinks into your slick heat. “Seven,” he grunts, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other slinks down to grab at your hip, “You feel better every time, sweetling.”

You moan hotly against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the thick leather of the shoulder of his tunic in an attempt to quiet yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of him sliding into you, filling you to the brim perfectly. You’ve been without him for so long that he feels enormous, your walls aching as he stretches you out, pressing in and in until he’s finally seated fully within you. 

Without another word, Aemond started thrusting into you, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace with every firm roll of his hips into you. After only a moment, he’s already grunting like a madman into your ear, holding you to him even as you cling tightly to his shoulders yourself, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist. 

You feel a fire building in your belly at a breakneck pace as he ruts into you, the hand on your hip no doubt leaving fingerprint bruises across your skin, even through the fabric of your gown. If the low groans from your husband are any indication, he isn’t doing much better. He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you into a desperate kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together frantically as if the two of you are trying to fall into each other, to become one. 

“My love, I—,” he pants against your lips, jerking your head back by the grip he has on your locks. His eye meets yours, the light lilac almost entirely eclipsed by his pupil as he stares at you hungrily, “It’s been so long, I don’t know how long I can last.” 

His breath is warm as it fans over your lips and you nod dazedly, zings of pleasure radiating up your spine from Aemond’s grip in your hair only adding to the warmth quickly threatening to overtake you. “It’s okay,” you swallow thickly, eyes already rolling back with pleasure, “I can’t either.” 

Nodding in return, he picks up the pace, the head of his cock rutting against the most sensitive spot within you hard enough to make you see stars. He hasn’t even needed to tease your pearl and you’re already nearly unraveling as Aemond mumbles nearly incoherent praises, the hand on your hip traveling lower, nearly cupping your ass. 

Just as you’re about to warn him of your inevitable release, muffled voices sound from behind the thick wooden doors that lead into the Small Council chambers. Aemond slows within you as both of your heads swivel to the doors — just in time to hear the guards stationed outside begin to tug them open. 

You freeze, eyes widening as the doors open, seemingly in slow motion. Thankfully, your husband moves quickly enough for the both of you, nimbly scooping you into his arms before hastily dropping down into his chair, hurriedly scooching it forward until both of your laps are hidden under the stone surface of the table, before kicking your smallclothes under the table at the last second. 

Your head whips around to face Aemond and you give him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as people start filing into the room, unaware that you’re still being split open by your husband’s length. One hand, still on your hip, tightens, silently commanding you to be still as his lilac eye pleads the same; his other hand is already poised on the table, relaxed against the cool surface as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Yes, yes, we must certainly ask him once he’s back in King’s Landing,” Lord Tyland’s voice fills the chamber as he walks in, engaged in a conversation about something or other with Lord Corlys, the two sharing a laugh before finally taking notice of you and Aemond, “Prince, princess.” Tyland bows his head at the two of you with Corlys following soon after. 

You sit frozen atop your husband, gazing blankly at the two men without a word. Thankfully, Aemond has the presence of mind to bow his head politely, though he stays quiet. As they walk further into the room, you can only see Tyland and Corlys from the corner of your eye but you don’t miss the odd look they share, silently asking each other why you were present and certainly why you were sitting on Aemond’s lap. Blood rushes to your head so quickly you feel lightheaded, your cheeks stinging as a harsh blush quickly appears on your face from their attention. 

Maester Orwyle files through the doorway next, doing a double take at you and Aemond before bowing his head, a gesture that you thankfully remember to return this time as you stiffly nod your head. Thankfully, the older man simply takes a seat at his place at the table without any comment, though you can hear the two other men speaking quietly in the corner of the room, throwing glances your way as they do. 

Your walls tighten around Aemond’s length as the rest of you tenses up when Larys creeps in, leaning against his cane as he moves; Aemond thighs tense underneath you as you hear him suck in a breath, only slightly more hasty than normal — the hand in your hip tightens, warning you to keep it together. 

“Prince Aemond, princess,” Larys nods as he approaches the table, “To what do we owe the pleasure of such… intriguing company?” He questions, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes bouncing between you and Aemond. 

Your head spins as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself to respond, to say anything, to appear somehow normal. Yet, nothing comes out as your center throbs uselessly around Aemond, your head cloudy with need as your eyes stare ahead blankly, though registering just enough to pick up on the small smirk playing at the corners of Larys’s lips. 

“My wife appears to have taken ill this morning,” Aemond drawls from over your shoulder while affectionately petting your waist, a gesture entirely for show, a lie to placate the men in the room, but it comforts you nonetheless. He clears his throat before continuing, the only tell thus far that your warmth around him is affecting him at all, “My presence brings her great comfort, I see no reason why she should be without it.” 

“I see,” Larys hums in response, his dark eyes sweeping over your form, sparkling ominously as if he knows the truth, “What shame, let us hope the Gods grant you reprieve from this…illness soon, princess.” 

“Yes!” You finally squeak, snapping back to attention as Aemond just barely squeezes your side, “Yes, let’s hope so. Thank you, Lord Larys.” You breathe, managing a smile small. 

You shift on your husband’s lap and immediately you know you’ve made a mistake as the head of his cock prods directly into that overly sensitive patch within you, nearly making you topple over on the spot as a small groan escapes you. Blessedly, you have enough presence of mind to cover it up with a cough, sparks jolting down your back as Aemond presses a soft kiss to your cheek, one of his hands coming up to rub soothing circles against the back of your shoulder. 

“There, there, sweetling,” he says softly, again, entirely for show as you put on your best performance, “Once the meeting is over, we will have the servants make some tea for you, that will help with that cough.” Even if it was for show, you couldn’t help but shiver at Aemond’s low voice, at how he’s being so soft and caring with you. That, combined with the incessant prodding to your sweet spot, has you throbbing around him, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Aemond suck in another barely there gasp behind you, a groan low enough to remain silent rumbling against your back while at the same time his hand almost imperceptibly twitches on the table; his composure makes you feel all the more lightheaded, blushing somehow deeper at the fact that he’s taking you apart this easily without so much as moving a muscle. Your thighs trembled atop his lap, the insides already sticky with your arousal as you struggled to stay still, silently thanking the Gods that at least your laps were hidden. 

“I’m sorry,” Corlys began, striding over from his spot in the corner with a sheepish look, “I really feel I must speak up, this is really most unusual.” He finishes through an awkward laugh, Tyland following closely behind him as they saddle up to the table. 

“What is most unusual?” Alicent asks, entering the Small Council chambers with Otto, followed closely after by Aegon and Ser Criston. Her eyes sweep over the room, pausing when she sees you, though she quickly corrects herself with a soft smile. “Ah, my dear,” she nods hello to the various men in the room before sitting at the table, “May I ask why your wife joins us, Aemond?” She peers at him curiously, throwing a nervous glance at Aegon who is smirking far too much for her liking as he slinks up to the table. 

“It seems the princess has fallen ill, your grace,” Larys answers quickly, slyly smiling as he turns to face the dowager queen, “Prince Aemond insisted she stay so that she may be…comforted.” You quickly look away from him as his eyes meet yours once again, piercing through you as though he can see directly through your gown. 

“Yes, which is most odd,” Tyland butted in, throwing glances between you, Aemond, Alicent, and Aegon, “She is not a member of the council, she should not be present. Surely there is some way the princess could be comforted that does not involve being privy to government matters.”

Aemond stays silent behind you, glaring daggers at Aegon over your shoulder, watching carefully as he traipses over to the table and stands at its head, his eyes never straying from his brother’s as they stare one another down. The other members, some reluctantly, take their places at the table as well, each of them standing so long as Aegon does, though you and Aemond remain seated; your eyes never stray from the marbled surface of the table.

“Aemond, please,” Otto sighs from his place next to you, “The least you and the princess could do is stand for–”

“I see him everyday,” Aegon interjects, breaking eye contact with your husband as he rolls his eyes, “I don’t give a shit if the fool stands.”

Your eyes dart up at that, shocked that Aegon isn’t taking the chance to thoroughly humiliate Aemond by putting him on the spot. The king’s violet eyes meet yours, sparkling with a mischief that makes your center flutter around your husband’s length – Aegon’s smirk grows as if he knows exactly what just happened. A thin sheen of sweat makes you feel clammy as Aemond’s cock twitches inside of you, pushing him against your sweet spot all the more. 

“Very well,” Alicent swiftly cuts in, determined to keep the peace, “Shall we get st–”

“Are we really going to allow for the presence of–” Corlys starts, only to be viciously cut off.

“She stays,” Aegon says flatly, shooting a bored look at the man, “If anyone has an issue with the princess’s presence they may take their leave.” His violet eyes pass over the room, almost daring anyone to move. Everyone remains still, though you can feel Tyland and Corlys glaring at the side of your head, and after a moment, Aegon takes his seat followed by everyone else; blessedly, the meeting finally begins. 

The Small Council meeting drones on and on, with various conversations of coin and ships, concerns abroad in Essos, and other diplomatic matters that mean nothing to you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s hardly been any time at all but it feels like an eternity has passed with Aemond’s hard length still piercing into you, twitching against your pulsing walls every so often. A part of you wonders if he does it on purpose, gives you just enough stimulation to cruelly tease you before going stock still once more. 

The small, unnoticeable to everyone but you, hitches of his breath tell you otherwise and deep down, you know he’s just as affected as you, no doubt steadily leaking into you, though you dare not consider the thought for very long. 

“Aemond,” your breath catches in your throat as Otto directs his attention to your husband, everyone else's gaze quickly following, “Any further communications from Dorne?”

Behind you, your husband clears his throat and you feel him shift beneath you, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat, both hands now clasping your waist to keep you steady on top of him. “Negotiations with the Dornish remain stagnant,” he begins as you practically wilt on his lap, the added attention from the council members making the knot in your belly tighten in a way you shudder to consider, “We received a raven from Prince Qoren some days ago rejecting any dealings with the crown, no matter the amount of coin we have to offer.” He finishes, pointedly looking at Tyland, who proceeds to butt in.

As soon as the attention shifts off of the two of you, it’s like the air around Aemond changes, becoming charged all of a sudden as you feel his chest heave against your back. At the other end of the table, Tyland begins to raise his voice, debating hotly with Corlys and Otto, drawing the attention of everyone else to them. 

“Do you think you can be still?” Aemond whispers, his breath hot against your ear although his voice is barely audible even to you. He must sense you freeze on his lap as the hand on your hip begins to move slowly, dragging your skirts up your legs until his hand can slip underneath them, making you tremble as he grips the soft skin of your thigh, “Tighten around my cock if you can be still.”

Against your better judgment, you do as he says, tensing as you clench your walls around him; his only reply is a low growl against your back. He stays still for a moment, trying with all of his might to appear as if he’s taking great interest in the ongoing argument taking place. 

Finally, once he’s positive everyone is too preoccupied arguing over coin to pay attention to either of you, his deft fingers slip through your folds before finally twirling against your aching pearl. 

You have to bite harshly at the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, trying to keep your breathing steady as you focus on not moving even though you so badly want to rut your hips against his fingers as they rub against you. 

Aemond swallows thickly behind you as he slowly circles his fingers, careful to keep his pace light and steady to not stir up any slick sounds from your wet cunt, though he longs to hear them. 

Your elbows rest against the top of the table, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The conversation around you seems to shift as Otto begins prattling on about some Tyrell woman finally being with child. Aemond’s fingers suddenly pinch at your sensitive bud and a gasp tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Is everything alright, princess?” Alicent questions from across the table, her dark eyes narrowed with concern. 

You nod quickly, coughing to conceal a moan as you open your mouth to answer her, “Y-Yes, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a weak smile, “I’m just so pleased for the Tyrells, what a j-joyous time this must be for them.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words as your core clenches tightly around your husband’s cock, his small touches driving you steadily to your peak despite the circumstances. 

Alicent gives you a curious look before quickly collecting herself, “Yes, I’m sure the family is quite thankful, children are always such a blessing,” she smiles politely before turning back to her father, “Please, continue.” 

Otto’s voice hardly reaches your ears as he picks up where he left off, though you don’t miss the horribly put out looks you garner from Tyland and Corlys. 

Aemond’s fingers just barely speed up as they swirl over your bud, though the small change is enough to drive you wild and you can feel the way his chest heaves against your back as your walls twitch around his length, threatening to milk his cock dry without him having to move an inch. 

The heat that has slowly been building within you finally begins to bubble over and your husband’s fingers show no signs of stopping as he pushes you closer and closer to your breaking point. The hand of his that has been resting idly on the table top comes over to casually rest against your clenched hands and rubs soothingly up and down your forearm, Aemond’s silent way of telling you he knows you’re close. 

Your eyes flick around the room as you feel your peak threatening to spill over you, frantically checking for any onlookers at the last possible second. You nearly jump out of your skin as your eyes finally land on Aegon, only to find him already staring at you, an amused smirk plastered across his face as he studies you. 

Aemond chooses that exact second to pinch at your pearl again and the small touch is your undoing. Your teeth bite down firmly on your tongue as your walls pulse rhythmically around your husband’s leaking cock, your eyes still locked on Aegon’s violet ones, now darkened with lust. 

Your muscles tense up as you peak helplessly, waves of pleasure lighting up every nerve ending within you. Somehow, you find it within yourself to remain quiet and still on Aemond’s lap as your eyes finally flick away from his older brother’s and you gaze, apparently absentmindedly, at some point on the wall on the opposite side of the room as your high subsides. 

Thankfully, Aemond takes pity on you and slips his hand away, his wet fingers resting gently in your bare thigh, still underneath your gown. 

You slowly come down from your high as the Small Council winds down, Aegon and Otto quickly discussing a few final points before the king formally adjourns the meeting. Tyland and Corlys practically bolt from their chairs, quickly bowing before they exit as they mumble between themselves, no doubt about the displeasure of your presence. 

Otto and Maester Orwyle take their leave soon after, each bowing politely. Aegon busies himself at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair as he lazily sips from his wine cup, the gleam in his eyes making you shiver. 

Across the room, Alicent and Larys whisper between themselves. Strangely, your mother-in-law blushes, shaking her head suddenly and mumbling a quiet, “Not here,” before glancing around the room.

Larys merely shrugs, turning to you as he shuffles from the room, “Do get better soon, princess.” He says with a feeble bow, although the look on his face makes you blush heavily. 

At that, Alicent turns to Aegon, “Would you care to come see the children with me?”

“Go on,” he dismisses her before nodding toward you and Aemond, “I wish to have a word with my brother.” He catches your eye with a quick wink. 

“Of course,” Alicent mutters, glancing curiously between the three of you, “I’ll ask the maids to bring some tea to your chambers this evening, princess. They make a wonderful lemon one that always seems to lift my spirits.” She says with a kind smile, coming around to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before she too heads to the door. 

“Thank you!” You breathily call after her, voice squeaking at the end as Aemond shuffles impatiently beneath you, his cock still prodding against your sensitive walls. 

Aegon chuckles darkly as soon as the doors close once more, standing from his chair with a wide smirk. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he taunts, eyes glinting as he looks between you and his brother, “I didn’t think either of you had that much gaul in you.” 

“What exactly are you tittering about now?” Aemond asks lowly behind you, his voice rough and choppy as his patience clearly wears thin. 

Sniggering, Aegon saunters around to stand beside you, violet eyes scanning over your laps still concealed under the table, “You’ve had your cock in her the whole time, have you not?” He teases, laughing harder still as Aemond merely hums in response, “Come brother, you should be proud of yourself,” he clasps a hand over your husband's shoulder, “She was nearly falling apart when she peaked.” He comments with a final wink as he ambles to the door, stopping to throw one last amused look over his shoulder, “You might want to do something about that bite mark on your shoulder.” He says casually before slamming the doors closed behind him. 

At his comment, you whirl around and your eyes grow wide as you spy a clear impression of your teeth marks in the leather of Aemond’s tunic, on his shoulder where you’d bitten down earlier. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of it being there throughout the entire meeting. 

You don’t have long to dwell on the thought though as your husband roughly pushes you from his lap until you’re bent over the table, cheek pressed to the cool stone surface. “Seven!” You sequel as he unceremoniously shoves his cock back inside you, his hips pumping wildly as his hands grasp at your waist harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. 

“Fucking finally,” he grunts, eyeing the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as he bunches your gown up over your ass, “‘M not gonna last.” He warns lowly, already panting with the speed of his thrusts. 

Your head spins once again as his cock moves within you, his pace nearly bruising. Your teeth sink into the skin of your forearm as you desperately try to keep quiet, another peak already welling up within you. 

Aemond growls and quickly threads the fingers of one hand through your hair, making you whine loudly as he pulls your head back until his chest is once again pressed against you, his other hand coming to rub against your abused pearl once more. 

“Aemond!” You moan, shaking your head in his grasp, one hand braced against the table as the other grabs at his forearm, feeling his muscles twitch as his fingers swirl against your center, “P-Please, I cannot keep myself quiet, I know I can’t—“ You start babbling. 

“Let them fucking hear,” he growls, eye squeezing shut as he feels his stones tightening up, “The whole keep can listen for all I fucking care, I won’t be stopping this time.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, never having heard him sound this possessed and overcome with pleasure before. After only a few more thrusts, you feel your walls twitch once more, a loud gasp rattling through your chest, “H-Husband, I’m—!”

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, redoubling his efforts against your pearl as he continues to rut into you at a nearly inhuman pace. “Peak, sweetling,” he commands, his voice low and raspy in your ear, “Peak while I breed your precious cunt.” 

His words nearly take your breath away and you whine loudly as another high washes over you, your walls milking your husband’s cock as they clench and pulse against it. 

Behind you, Aemond groans lowly, grunting as his cock twitches strongly inside you, his thick seed flooding into your heat as he finally, finally peaks, the pleasure of it making him dizzy as he leans against your back, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment, your tired pants the only sounds in the chambers. Finally, Aemond untangles his fingers from your hair, both of his hands coming to rest against the cool table as he finally pulls his cock from your center, soothing you with soft shushes when you whine, the emptiness in your core such a foreign feeling after being filled for so long. 

He sinks into his chair once more and pulls you with him, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. Once your breathing is steady, you pick your head up, a displeased groan tumbling from your throat as you see your bite mark more clearly up close, a finger coming up to trace over the intents in the black leather. 

“I’ll need to send this to the seamstress for repairs,” you whisper with an apologetic sigh, “I believe this is beyond my ability to fix.” 

Aemond chuckles beneath you, lilac eye gleaming with pride as he clasps a hand over yours as it still rests on his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself with it, my love.” 

“What?” You question, smiling despite the way you tilt your head in confusion, “Aemond, I cannot fix it myself and I’m afraid the mark will not simply go away—,” 

“You misunderstand me, sweetling,” he says, smiling as he looks down at you, “I intend to keep it as a mark of great pride. I shall wear it as a trophy for all to see.” He explains with a teasing laugh. 

You playfully smack a hand against his chest, which only makes him laugh harder, “You can’t be serious!” You admonish with a wide smile.

“Why? I simply wish to remember this day,” he chuckles, “The day I made my sweet wife peak in front of the Gods and everyone.” 

“Aemond!” You cannot help the surprised laugh that leaves you, “You’re as disgusting as your brother!”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa @trshngyn

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[asahicore]

kiwi and layla - sjy

pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected. genre. high school au, f2l, lots of fluff and some angst too, f2l, shy reader x outgoing jake warnings. food & swearing, mention of parent death and divorce, kms jokes, jake being stupid but also really cute (lmk if i've missed any!) word count. 26.3k a/n. this is part of the unexpected collab !!! go check out the other fics and caelin thank u for hosting <333 hope u guys like this one, it took me a while but i had so so much fun writing it !!! i love my jakey in here he's a little bit confused but he's got the spirit. @zreamy thanks for being the world's awesomest beta reader and a decent friend ig... 2 baddies wouldnt be the same without you... lifeguard wet body sunghoon coming soon guys dont miss it! as always pls remember how important reblogs and feedback is for us writers!!! it's what keeps us going <3 enjoy!!

listen to the playlist!

This was not your backpack. 

In your defense, it looked so similar to yours - scratch that, it was the exact same as yours - that you couldn’t possibly have been able to tell the difference between the two bags until you’d opened one of them. Just a basic black Eastpak that probably a hundred other kids in your school owned with nothing to tell them apart, because you hadn’t had the mind to add a little something to it and make it recognizable. You hadn’t really needed to - your backpack was always on your back, next to your seat or in your locker. There was no way you might lose it or mistake it with another.

Until today, obviously. Instead of having a chill last class before spring break like every other teacher, your psycho math teacher Mr Choi had decided to give you a major test on this otherwise beautiful Friday afternoon. While other students watched a movie or played Kahoot, you were stuck in a cold classroom with algebra questions in front of you. Mr Choi had argued that this would be better than having a test after the holidays and ruining your time off with studying, but a test was a test, and math was math, so you hated the idea anyway. 

To eliminate all cheating possibilities, Mr Choi made his students only take a pencil and eraser with them, leave their bag at the back of the classroom and put their phone in a box he kept on his desk. Plus, with his hawk eyes watching intently, there was no way to sneak answers on a small sheet of paper or even on your palm. 

When the test was over, your brain was so fried and you were so eager to get the hell out of there that you didn’t even notice the two identical black backpacks next to each other, you just grabbed the first one you saw, not even questioning that it might not be yours.

And indeed, yours it was not. From your snooping around, you quickly found out it belonged to one Jake Sim. 

You knew Jake. Although you’d been attending the same school for the past three years, you could probably count the number of times you’d talked on one hand - but you knew him. Or at least, you knew of him. You knew that he was good at STEM subjects and that he was on the soccer team; you knew he was a really sweet guy and was easy to talk to, even for someone shy like you. 

Most importantly, you knew he was friends with Park Sunghoon. This was important because you had liked Park Sunghoon since the moment you’d laid eyes on him - or rather, your whole friend group had. It might’ve sounded extremely odd to others, but you and your friends had a few random people at school you liked to keep tabs on or create backstories for, and Sunghoon, because of his dashing looks that had struck all four of you in your first week of freshman year, was one of your victims. Well, you liked to think of them as characters on a TV show rather than victims, but to each his own. Your other characters included that popular sophomore who already considered herself a celebrity because of her ten thousand followers on TikTok anyway, the French and Spanish teachers you were sure had a thing going on, and that one guy in Yena’s biology class that only showed up every two weeks but always looked stoned (hat guy, Chaewon liked to call him, even you’d never once seen him with a hat on). It was all harmless, really - none of you ever actually went up and talked to them, just discussed them among yourselves.

Perhaps Sunghoon was different, because each of you had had a class with him at some point, so you’d all had at least shared a word with him. You probably hadn’t talked to him more times than you’d talked to Jake, so the information you knew about him was pretty surface-level - he was an ice skater, but everyone knew that, and he was shy like you, which was immediately noticeable. He also had one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. But again, everyone who saw him knew that.

You, Yena and Chaewon had debated whether one of you should just go ahead and make a move (Hyewon didn’t participate because she already had a boyfriend, but she was all for approaching the boy). You guessed you could describe what you felt towards Sunghoon as a sort of crush, even if it was one you shared with your friends - you found him cute, and you got nervous when he was around. But you were more the watch-from-afar-and-pine type, so you were satisfied with liking him from a distance. You didn’t think you actually had the guts to strike a conversation with him - that was more Chaewon’s thing.

However, this didn’t mean you weren’t curious about the contents of his best friend’s backpack. Your being shy didn’t mean you weren’t interested in other people’s lives - if anything, you were quite nosy. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you were just a regular teenage girl, so this was fine, right? After just a few minutes of snooping, you found out Jake Sim wasn’t hiding any big state secrets in his Eastpak, anyway. Just some textbooks, notebooks, and a lot of single sheets of paper. It was pretty messy in there. 

Your idea of him being good at STEM subjects was correct - he kept all of his graded tests in the sleeve pocket of his math notebook, and there was not a single one that had received a note under 95. He even seemed to be doing some extracurricular exercises - there were formulae that were completely unfamiliar to you and that you were sure you hadn’t done in class. You found it slightly insane, but that might have just been because you despised math and wouldn’t understand why someone would want to do more of it than was required of them. 

His English homework was another story. His essays had more red from the teacher’s pen than his own black ink, and from the grades on his reading comprehension tests, you highly doubted he’d actually read any of the assigned books. You weren’t in the same English class but apparently had the same teacher, Ms Park, so you were studying the same thing. You couldn’t help but cringe as you read his answers on a Pride and Prejudice reading test - he seemingly kept mixing the sisters up, assigning actions and character traits to Lydia that clearly belonged to Jane. At least he somewhat got Darcy right, writing that “he’s probably not as bad as he looks,” with no further explanation. 

As you aimlessly flipped through his English notebook, curious about the way he took his notes - or if he even took any - you noticed some scribbles in the margins. Looking closer, some of them were in his handwriting while others were in an unfamiliar one. It looked like some sort of conversation, so you assumed the other writing belonged to his deskmate. You also did this with your friends in classes where the teacher was very strict about no chatting in class.

dude coach said if I fail any of my classes I would be out of the team, you read Jake’s handwriting.

Wait seriously????

yeah and I suck at english so Im scared it might actually happen

You just need to study more bro

bro I DO but this shit is hard

Then find someone to help you

neither of you guys is that good in that subject either tho

Ok ouch but also just find someone else then

bro who

IDK man 

Y/N maybe ? she’s good at English and she’s nice so she might say yes 

there you go about y/n again dude MAYBE you ask HER to teach you some sonnets

Shut up you’re the one who needs help dumbass

whatever isn’t it weird just asking her randomly though like i dont want her to feel like she has to say yes

Lol if she sees your grades she might do it out of pity

fuck u man

You were surprised to see your own name written there - it felt weird knowing that Jake and his friend were talking about you, for some reason. And what if that friend was Sunghoon? You had a hard time believing he not only knew you existed, but thought of you as good at English and nice. You liked to think both of these things were true. 

He was also spot-on about saying you would agree to helping out Jake in those subjects, but what he got wrong was thinking you’d do it out of pity. Clearly, you and Jake were in very similar positions. You didn’t have any sort of club you’d be kicked out of if you failed a class, but it sure as hell wouldn’t look good on your college applications, so you needed to get your math grades up. 

Jake and you both desperately needed something the other person could help with, so you had a feeling he wouldn’t turn down the offer that was brewing in your head.

—

This was not Jake’s backpack.

He noticed it right away - it was much heavier than his own and the straps were tighter around his shoulders than they should be. He looked inside for some clues about who it might belong to, and luckily, the first thing he found was a journal that had Y/N’S DIARY written on the cover page in big, pink letters. 

Unluckily, however, he’d also noticed that you had practically sprinted out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, and indeed, you were already far gone when he tried looking for you around school. He had to get to soccer practice anyway, so he put the issue to the side for the time being.

When he got home, he had to shower then have dinner, so it wasn’t until 8 p.m. that he remembered he had your backpack. He had meant to text you straightaway about it, and he knew it was wrong to look into someone’s belongings, but he couldn’t help himself, especially when his best friend Sunghoon had liked you for ages. Maybe this was an opportunity to find out more about you.

Your mind-blowing grades in English don’t come as much of a surprise to him, and after reading through your most recent essay, he thought you definitely deserved them. Your essay was on a Shakespeare play he had never heard of - you apparently also had Ms Park for English, and he didn’t know she was doing Shakespeare in class, so he wondered for a second if you were actually crazy enough to read another book and study it. As if 300 pages of Jane Austen weren’t enough as it was. 

What shocked him were your math grades. It was like looking into a fucked-up mirror: while you excelled at English, you sucked at math; while he excelled at math, he sucked at English. You were just as close to failing your math class as he was at failing English.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Sunghoon’s idea hadn’t been so dumb - you could help him out, and he had an actual argument as to why you should, rather than just using pity on you.

As he put your stuff back in your bag, he was reminded of something - your diary. For some reason, the pretty floral pattern on the cover made him feel even worse for opening the journal in the first place, but he did it anyway. Either you’d only just picked up the habit of writing in a diary or you had finished your previous one recently, but this one seemed pretty new, as only about ten pages had been filled with your neat handwriting. Judging from the dates at the top of almost every page, you wrote in there everyday, and Jake only felt even worse that you hadn’t been able to write in it that day.

Still, he flicked to the first page and started reading. And he read and read, unable to take his eyes away from your diary. He thought he wouldn’t have cared much and a page would have satisfied his curiosity, but the way you wrote about the people around you and about yourself fascinated him. Basic high school things like friend drama and annoying teachers actually became interesting through your words. You didn’t use particularly complicated sentences or unheard-of words, on the contrary, you used simple language, and that spoke a lot more to Jake than any of the classics he’d attempted to read for class. 

And then, he saw an all too familiar name in an entry dated from just a few days ago. 

I sat next to Sunghoon today. It was during physics and both of our desk partners were absent, so Mrs Kim made me change seats. She always does this, and I used to wonder whether she hated to see an empty seat or to see a student sitting on their own, but whatever the reason, today, I was just happy about it. This isn’t our first time sitting next to each other in class, but I was still nervous, since I wasn’t expecting it. I hope he couldn’t feel the awkwardness practically oozing off of me or the way I very obviously struggled with the exercises (obviously, anything to do with math is not my forte). We shared my textbook because he’d forgotten his, and he showed me his notes when he saw I couldn’t keep up with Mrs Kim as she told us what to write down. We only exchanged a few words but I was satisfied when class was over. It’s odd, because you’d think someone would want to talk to the person they like and get to know them more, but I don’t feel that with Sunghoon. Maybe it’s because we’re both so introverted, and he seems to have just as hard a time as I do starting conversations, so I’ve sort of accepted our silent fate. I’m fine just continuing to steal glances at him from across the cafeteria. 

After that, there were a few more pages of writing up until yesterday's entry, but it was the only mention of Sunghoon. Jake had apparently been wrong to think that a girl’s diary would be full of rantings about her crush and things along the lines of “omg, he looked at me today”. 

But you had very clearly referred to Sunghoon as the person you liked, and Jake wasn’t going to let that go so easily. This was precious information that he held in his hands now, so he had to figure out how to deal with it properly for your sake as well as his friend’s.

Turns out there was more he could help you with than just algebra.

—

Seeing Jake Sim in a setting other than school was slightly odd, if you were being completely honest. 

You had just been about to text him about the backpack mix-up when you’d received a message from the man himself, asking if you could meet up the next day to exchange them. In response, you’d asked where you should meet, thinking he’d offer either his house or yours, or some halfway point between them, but he surprised you by proposing some café in the center of town. They have good hot chocolate there, he’d said, and that had been enough to convince you. 

And also I have something I want to talk to you about. 

Your stomach had turned at this message - what on Earth could Jake Sim need to discuss with you had been your first thought, and then you realized you also had plans you wanted to share with him. So his idea of going to a café was actually good for you, too.

You’d only been waiting for about five minutes when he appeared at the café, red and panting from seemingly sprinting to his destination. 

“Y/N, I’m sooo sorry,” he immediately said when he saw you waiting. “I was planning to be early, but when I got on the bus I realized I literally forgot your bag, so I had to go back but the next bus wasn’t for another twenty minutes so I just ran the whole way here, and now I’m all sweaty, and I’m late, and I’m really sorry.”

He’d rushed through his sentence and was breathing heavily as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. He seemed so genuinely sorry for such a small thing that after your surprise faded, you started laughing. It was his turn to be surprised, and he immediately stopped talking at the sound of your soft giggles.

“It’s okay, Jake. I haven’t even been waiting five minutes,” you explained, smiling. “Let’s just go in, yeah?”

Jake’s heart did something weird just then, and the feeling was so unfamiliar and confusing that he decided to promptly ignore it. As if in a daze, he stood still for a couple of seconds until the sound of a bell ringing, the one the café had on its doors to signify the entrance or exit of a customer, snapped him out of it. He followed you into the shop, let you order and pay for you both (“I’m the one who took the wrong bag, it’s the least I can do,” you’d said) and sat across from you at a booth in the back.

You gave each other your respective bags back, then started chatting as you sipped on your hot chocolates (Jake had been right - they really were delicious). He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and whether he sensed you were a reserved person or was just naturally talkative, you liked that he both managed to do most of the talking and ask you loads of questions at once. Usually, you wouldn’t have really cared to listen to someone go on and on about their passion for soccer and the recent game that their team had won, but for some reason, you were hooked on Jake’s every word. The way his eyes widened in excitement as he recounted the winning goal he scored, the way the volume of his voice decreased as he filled you in on the team gossip even though no one was listening to your conversation, the way his grin turned into a proud smirk as he mentioned his coach congratulating him - every single one of his actions had you mesmerized. You’d never seen anyone so expressive in their speech, never seen anyone punctuate every sentence with a movement or a facial expression. It was just fun, listening to him.

Even when he didn’t talk, he stayed expressive. He asked you whether you did anything outside of school, and he listened intently as you told him about the theater group you’re in, humming and nodding and laughing at all the right moments. Usually, you wouldn’t have talked about it for more than thirty seconds, afraid to bore others with unnecessary details, but Jake’s reactions and the questions he asked made you actually feel listened to and like what you were talking about was interesting. So you grew more confident and told him what you loved about acting and about theater, about your own gossip (the arrogant actress who got the lead role and thought she was better than everyone else, that one guy who was clearly flirting with three girls at the same time), and you almost couldn’t believe Jake seemed so entertained by your stories. 

“So, you said your group focused on more classic plays, right? Does that mean you’re good at English Lit?”

With his spoon, Jake scooped some whipped cream into his mouth, hoping he was appearing as nonchalant as he was trying to be. He had to make you think he’d deduced that just now and not because he had been snooping through your backpack just the night prior. 

You, however, could not have cared less how he’d figured it out - you were just grateful he had segued into this topic of school and grades, because you’d been wanting to bring it up yourself but had no idea how.

“Um, yeah, actually, it’s my best subject. Math, on the other hand…”

You chuckled as his eyes widened and he leaned in across the table, pointing his spoon at you as he spoke. “See, that’s interesting, because math is my best subject, but I suck at English Lit.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, trying to sound genuinely surprised even though this piece of information was not at all new to you.

“Yeah,” he said, looking back down at his almost-finished drink with a small smile on his face.

“You know-”

“You know-”

You and Jake had spoken at the same time, and your eyes locked for a second before you started laughing. You gestured at him to go on first.

“I actually need pretty urgent help in English. Coach said he’ll put us out of the team if we fail even just one of our courses, and I’m very close to failing that class.” He took a moment to let out a sigh. “So, if you want, we could help each other out. Me with math, and you with English.” 

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and he bit his lip as he looked at you expectantly. You thought he looked far too nervous for such a simple request, expression more like a boy who’d just asked his crush to the prom rather than offering mutual help you both desperately needed. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips - you had never known Jake Sim to be so… cute. But he was waiting for an answer, so you pushed the thought out of your head.

“That’s a great idea, actually,” you replied, as if you hadn’t had the exact same idea. You were just relieved you hadn’t even had to bring it up yourself. “I also really can’t afford to fail math. It would look terrible on college applications.”

Jake let out a long, loud exhale. “God, yeah, college, I hadn’t even thought of that. Even more motivation to get better grades now,” he said with a chuckle.

You chuckled along, then cleared your throat and sat up straighter. You watched with amusement as Jake mirrored your actions and even the fake serious frown in your brows. You presented your hand for him to shake, which he did without hesitation.

“So it’s a deal then. We’ll tutor each other until we’ve gotten our grades up.”

“Deal,” he replied. As you both withdrew your hands, he dropped his serious facade and burst into giggles, a sound you hadn’t expected from the boy but somehow fit him well. You watched his face closely for a second, noticing the curl of his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, before breaking into laughter yourself.

You stayed in the café for another half hour, going over details of where and when you’d meet, of what exactly you needed help with (“Everything,” you’d said, to which Jake had replied “Same”), and just talked some more.

“I’m taking the 53 that way,” Jake said when you exited the café, pointing towards the bus stop.

“Oh, so am I!” you exclaimed.

“Seriously?! What’s your stop?”

And that’s how you and Jake figured out you only lived two bus stops away from each other. 

“That’s so cool! It’ll make it easy to meet up then,” he said, and you hummed in agreement. After a pause, he added: “But if we live so close to each other, how come we didn’t go to the same schools earlier? Aren’t you usually supposed to go to the one in your district?”

“I used to live in another part of town,” you explained. “Then my parents divorced when I was in middle school, and I stayed with my dad because he lived closer to the school I was at, but I moved to my mom’s place for high school.”

“‘Cause she lives closer?”

“Yeah, basically.” There was more to it, but you didn’t think Jake would be particularly interested in your parental issues - although you surprised yourself for even considering telling him. If Jake sensed that you weren’t saying everything, he didn’t push, just swiftly changed the topic as you waited for the bus to come.

When you got home some time later, the first thing you did was open your diary and start writing. It had felt wrong not to write in it even just for a day, so it was a relief to feel the pages between your fingers and the familiar scent of the paper and your perfumed pen. You wrote without thinking too much, simply letting all of your musings out into your diary and freely brushing the tip of your pen across the pages. 

You didn’t ever reread your entries right after writing them, but if you had that day, you might have noticed all you could write about was the boy you’d drank a hot chocolate with.

—

Spring break week passed by far too quickly, and it was on the first Monday back at school that you and Jake met again. He had soccer practice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, while you had theater rehearsals on Thursdays and Saturdays, so you’d agreed to meet up every Monday and Wednesday after school. Since his mother worked as the school nurse, she drove him to and from school everyday - so on Monday, you met Jake in front of the nurse’s station, waiting for his mom to wrap things up before she drove you both to their home.

You had been surprised to learn that the kind nurse that never asked too many questions and always let students take a nap if they didn’t feel well was Jake’s mom, but upon reflection, it made sense. Once you knew, it was almost obvious that she had raised him - they shared the same friendliness, the same comforting smile and the same ability to make conversation. The whole ride home, she asked you about yourself and thanked you for agreeing to tutor “our little Jakey,” because “God knows he needs the help.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh when a blush crept on Jake’s face and he looked out the passenger seat window with an embarrassed frown, muttering something like “Thanks a lot, Mom.”

She noticed his reaction and laughed along with you. “I’m just saying, Jakey-poo. It’s good to know to ask for help when you need it,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. This only made Jake groan loudly and hide his face in his hands. You didn’t know Jake very well, but this flustered, red-faced side of him was definitely one you liked seeing.

The first thing that greeted you when you reached Jake’s house was a happy welcome home bark.

“You have a dog?!” you exclaimed, unable to reel your excitement in.

“Yeah! This is Layla,” Jake said, giving energetic rubs to the Border Collie that made her whole body shake side-to-side but that she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. 

“Hi, Layla,” you cooed, crouching down to her level to let her sniff you. She decided you were a person worthy of petting her. “She’s so cute!”

“I think she likes you,” Jake said, a grin on his face, as he watched Layla presenting her belly to you and asking for scratches there. “Do you have a dog?”

“We have a Corgi at home. And a cat, too.”

“That must be fun,” Jake chuckled. “Do they get along?”

“Depends. They have a bit of a love-hate relationship.” You looked up at Jake, and it was uncharacteristically quiet as you locked eyes for a couple of seconds. You both looked away at the same time, surprised by the sudden eye contact.

You gave Layla one last rub and lifted yourself up. “Um, should we get started?” 

Jake paused for a second as if he’d forgotten what you were here for in the first place, then started nodding his head quickly. “Right, yeah. Let’s go to my room. Downstairs is just one big room and my mom will probably watch TV or make dinner or something, so it might be distracting…” he explained, lightly scratching the back of his neck. It seemed like he was embarrassed to be bringing you to his room, which you couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Okay, sounds good,” you said with a smile, hoping it’ll reassure him.

You followed him up to his room, ignoring his complaints as you lingered on the framed photos on the wall next to the stairs and giggled at his baby pictures. 

“Do not look at those,” he said with a warning tone that didn’t scare you in the slightest. When you didn’t listen, he grabbed your hand that had been pointing at a photo of baby Jake in the bathtub and forced you to keep walking.

“Why?” you asked, a slight whine to your voice.

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing! I was an ugly baby.”

“What?! You were so cute!”

“Whatever. I’d rather study English than talk about this, and that’s saying something.”

When you looked at Jake, you were surprised to find that he actually seemed upset about this. You weren’t sure what was so wrong with looking at his baby pictures, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him mad, so you stayed quiet and continued your way to his room. Once there, although you were infinitely curious about all the posters, pictures, figurines, trophies, and other small tokens of Jake’s life, you didn’t ask him about any of them, just sat next to him at his desk and opened The Picture of Dorian Grey, the book you had both been studying in Ms Park’s class.

You’d agreed on spending forty-five minutes on English, have a small break, then spend forty-five minutes on Math. It wasn’t a lot, but you both had other homework and things outside of school you needed to do, so you’d decided to start out that way and see if it worked out.

You were glad to see how seriously Jake was taking this - he listened intently to what you said and asked questions when he didn’t understand something. You quickly figured out that what he didn’t like about English Literature was that the answers weren’t as straightforward or as logical as they were in math, and even worse, that multiple answers were possible depending on the reader’s interpretation. 

“It just all feels like a guessing game,” he said, resting the side of his head on one of his palms. “How am I supposed to know what this dude meant? And if it can be analyzed in different ways, how can Ms Park tell me the way I understand it is wrong?”

“It’s all about the way you justify it,” you explained. “You can’t just say whatever. Ms Park will look out for how you use the text to support your answers.” You then went on to pick out a specific part of the book, asking Jake to analyze Dorian’s mindset in that scene. 

“He sounds like he’s going insane,” Jake said flatly when he was done reading, getting a chuckle out of you.

“Exactly. How do you know that?”

“I don’t know, just the words he uses,” Jake replies, shrugging.

“Okay, underline those words,” you instructed gently. Jake sighed, but he complied.

“There.” 

“Good. What can you say about those words?” When Jake just looked at you like a lost puppy, you reformulated your question. “What do they have in common? What type of words are they? Are they common nouns, verbs…”

Jake looked back at the words he’d underlined on the page. “They’re… adjectives?” he said, tone unsure.

“Exactly!”

Jake paused. “So?”

“So now you can say that the author uses many adjectives to convey the gradual loss of sanity of the main character.”

“Oh.”

When you looked at Jake, he wore an expression like the words on the page were finally starting to make sense to him. “That’s the content. You can also look at the structure. See how many punctuation marks there are? Commas, semi-colons, question marks… It’s like he keeps cutting himself off. His thoughts are all over the place.”

Jake nodded slowly. “So, I just need to look out for things like that?”

“Basically, yeah. And the more you practice, the more these things will stand out to you. It actually becomes somewhat repetitive sometimes.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “That’s actually relieving to hear,” he said with a chuckle.

Thirty minutes passed by like this as you showed Jake ways to make sense of a literary text. When the timer rang, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out wide with a sigh. He put his hands behind his head and let it hang back, and the way your stomach flipped at the sight of his exposed neck and Adam’s apple made you look away immediately. You could barely meet his eyes as he turned his head to look at you, still in that same position, and, with a smirk, asked if you were ready for some snacks. 

You gulped, trying to look as normal as possible. “Uh, yeah, sure!”

Downstairs, Jake presented you with all sorts of snacks - there were so many, you felt like you were in a convenience store. This was worlds away from your ingredient-only household. You opted for some biscuits and a banana while Jake made himself a bowl of cereal. A very distracting ten-minute long argument then ensued about the order of milk and cereal - horrifyingly, Jake poured his milk before his cereal. You thought it was a myth that some people actually did it that way, but Jake very proudly defended his choice. 

“I bet you eat pizza with pineapple on it, too,” you said half-jokingly, only for your joke to punch you right back in the face.

“Duh,” Jake answered.

You could only shake your head in defeat. “Let’s just get back to studying before I murder you.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jake said, laughing. “That’s harsh.”

“And you’re a freak,” you retorted, a grin blooming on your lips.

“You know, you remind me of my friend Jay,” Jake mused as you walked back up the stairs. “He has so many of these small battles that he just won’t let go of. He got super worked up over an argument about mint chocolate chip ice cream once.”

“Let me guess, you like that ice cream?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not my favorite, but I’ll have it once in a while.”

“God, Sim, you just get worse and worse.”

You sat back down at his desk and started eating. “I bet you think I’m weird for liking math too, right?”

“That’s the worst offense of them all.” 

Jake’s sudden quietness caught you off guard. When you turned your head to look at him, he was already gazing at you with a smile and a sort of thoughtful glint to his eyes, resting his chin on his palm. It sounded like he was thinking out loud when he spoke next. “Guess we’re perfect opposites of each other. Like two peas in a pod!”

The realization of what he’d said dawned upon him as soon as the words left his mouth. He slowly lifted his head as his eyes widened. “I don’t mean- just, you know, since you’re good at English and I’m good at math, and- you know… I didn’t mean it in a weird way, or anything…”

His eyes kept glancing back and forth between you and his bowl of cereal, as if he was scared of looking directly at you but wanted to check your reaction. 

As a smile grew on your face, you kept your eyes trained on your biscuits so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression. But when you looked at him again, he held your gaze, mouth slightly agape. You didn’t have it in you that he had gotten the idiom completely wrong. “I know, don’t worry.” You chuckled. “We are opposites of each other. You just better be as good at teaching math as I am at teaching English,” you teased.

You watched as a smirk tugged one corner of Jake’s lips up and he raised an eyebrow. “Who said you were good at teaching English?”

You gasped. “You said you understood better now!”

Jake’s smile softened as he giggled. “I’m just teasing. You are a good teacher.”

You sat up straighter at the compliment, a proud smile on your face. “Your turn, Mr Sim. I’m all ears.”

“Right,” he said, mirroring your posture. “Shall we start by going over Mr Choi’s test from last week?” 

Your smile dropped instantly at this. Reluctantly, you fished your graded paper out of your bag. You already knew Mr Choi was a psychopath, but you still didn’t understand where he found the will to grade thirty papers over the weekend. You avoided Jake’s gaze as you handed him your test with a big, red, circled D- at the top.

You cringed as Jake sighed. “At least it’s not an F, right?” he said in what you could tell was an attempt at reassurance but somehow only made you feel worse. He looked over your answers quickly, trying to find what in particular you struggled with. “All right. Let’s start from the beginning, yeah?”

For the next forty-five minutes, Jake went over each test question with you, breaking them down and explaining how to solve them in a way you understood. The words he used were so much clearer than the half-assed explanations you were used to from Mr Choi, and for once, math actually made some sort of sense. Your brain still felt broken after almost an hour of numbers and greek letters, but at least, you felt smarter rather than dumber at the end of it. You had never been more grateful for the sound of a phone alarm than the one signaling tutoring was over. 

“That wasn’t half-bad, right?” Jake asked with a wide grin.

You felt so tired, you could probably pass out right then and there, but Jake looked so proud of himself after you had been able to complete an exercise correctly on your own that you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. “Right,” you replied, mirroring his grin. “You’re an okay teacher, I guess.”

He jokingly glared and tutted at you, but you both laughed right after. “I need to walk Layla, so I can walk you home, if you want?” he offered as you started packing your things. His words had an uncertain tone to them, as if he wasn’t sure you’d still want to spend time with him after this - but it only took you a second of thinking to realize you’d rather continue hanging out with him than going home on your own.

“Sure! I need to walk Kiwi too, actually.”

“Your dog’s name is Kiwi?!”

“Yes,” you said, chuckling at his fascinated tone.

“That’s an adorable name.”

“Thanks, I chose it.”

“Oh, then I take it back. Worst name I’ve ever heard for a dog.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, lightly hitting him on the head with your math notebook, making him raise a hand in self-defense as he laughed.

“Sorry, sorry. Does your cat also have a fruit name?” 

A pause. “Mango,” you mumbled, and he immediately burst into laughter again. You side-eyed him as you zipped up your bag.

“Wow, you have amazing taste in pet names, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing along. Then you realized something, and you suddenly stopped laughing, looking up at Jake with wide eyes that made him slightly start to panic. “Oh my God, Jake, are our dogs going to meet?”

“Our dogs are going to meet,” he echoed in a sort of fascinated whisper. You both understood the other - dogs becoming friends was the cutest thing ever.

“Let’s go,” you whispered back excitedly.

When you reached the living room downstairs, you bid Mrs Sim goodbye, then went to the entrance to put your shoes back on. “You two sure get along well,” you heard her say to her son with a suggestive tone. Even though she had dropped the volume of her voice, the door was wide open and there were only a few meters between you, so you’d heard her loud and clear. 

“Geez, Mom,” Jake groaned, seemingly irked by his mom’s insinuation.

“It’s just you’ve never brought a girl home, Jakey-”

“Okay, we’re leaving now! Layla, come!”

You hadn’t even realized how wide you were grinning until Jake saw you tying your shoelaces and grumbled “What are you smiling so hard for.”

“Nothing,” you giggled, and your smile grew as you watched a grin break through his pretend-upset expression.

You sighed contentedly as you stepped outside, letting the crisp early April air hit your face. You tightened your scarf around your neck and buried your hands in your pocket and you and Jake started walking side by side, Layla happily leading the way. The streets were fairly quiet at this time of day, save for the yells of children still playing in their backyards before dinner and a few cars of people coming home late from work.

Only the first five seconds of the walk were silent, until you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. “So, never brought a girl home, huh?” you asked with a teasing smirk.

Jake let out an offended scoff and looked up to the sky as if God could help him out of this one. Sadly, He didn’t, so Jake had to find an answer himself. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why not?”

Pouting, Jake spared you a sideway glance. “Because you’re a girl,” he replied, voice lowered to a mumble.

You chuckled at this. “Very astute observation, Jake.”

“No, I- Ugh,” he groaned before laughing along with you. “I don’t need a girl to know how bad I am with- well, with girls.”

“I can help with that,” you said before you really thought about it. “I mean, I’m not a love expert by any means, but I can maybe give, I don’t know, pointers or something if there’s someone you like-”

“There’s no one I like,” Jake quickly cut in. “Um, not right now, at least.”

“O-okay,” you replied, nodding. “That’s fine.” 

“What about you? Do you like anyone?”

As Jake asked the question, he realized he already knew the answer - you liked Sunghoon. How could he forget?! Half of his plan had been to make you get closer to his friend, but he hadn’t even started thinking about that yet. In his defense, he’d come up with that plan three days ago.

Your answer surprised him. “Um, no, me neither. Not right now, at least,” you said, repeating his words with a smile on your face. You locked eyes for a second before looking away at the same time, chuckling.

“Right,” he said. He knew what he had read in your diary, so maybe you were just too shy to admit you had a crush on his friend of all people.

An unexpected awkwardness settled between the two of you, and you more than anything wanted it to go away. Even though it’d only been a few days since you and Jake had started getting to know each other, you already felt comfortable enough to be yourself around him, and it usually took you weeks before reaching that level with anyone. This hadn’t happened since you met Yena and Hyewon at the beginning of high school - they had been friends since middle school, and so had you and Chaewon, and when the four of you met, you had instant chemistry. But maybe it was slightly too early to start talking about crushes with Jake.

For once, you were the one to break the silence - you asked him whether he knew what he wanted to do after school. Basic question, but you were genuinely curious. 

Looking a little bashful, he confessed his dream had always been to be a math teacher and soccer coach at a middle or high school. You told him he already had the talent for it, and when he blushed at your words, you made sure to tease him for it.  

“I’m not sure yet,” you said when he returned the question. “I know I wanna go to college and continue doing English Lit and theater there, but that’s about it.”

“That’s already good enough,” Jake said with a smile. “Still got time to figure out what comes after, right?”

You naturally mirrored his smile - there was something contagious about Jake’s puppyish grin that made it hard not to smile yourself. “Right.”

The three of you reached your house quickly after that. Your mom still hadn’t come home from work, so Kiwi was even more excited than usual for your arrival home. You and Jake watched fondly as your dogs sniffed each other for a few seconds before starting to run around together. The fact that they got along made you really happy, perhaps unreasonably so, and you started bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you watched them play. “Our dogs are friends!” you exclaimed excitedly. 

When you turned to look at Jake, he wasn’t watching the dogs like you had been - he was gazing straight at you, eyes soft with something that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t look away, and it was only after a few seconds that he seemed to snap out of the sort of daze he was in. He cleared his throat and you finally tore your eyes away from him.

“Let me just- Kiwi! I need to put his leash around him,” you said, speaking quickly to dissipate the weird atmosphere as best as you could. You led Jake down the path you usually took with Kiwi that led to a park in your neighborhood, and you were relieved when normal conversation started again.

Jake insisted on walking you back to your house even though he had left his earlier. He made a whole show of not going until you’d walked inside and closed the door, so you’d rushed to your window to shout his name and wave goodbye at him, which made him laugh.

You turned back to Kiwi when Jake and Layla had turned a corner and you couldn’t watch them anymore. “Are you happy you made a new friend, Kiwi?”

The Corgi barked happily at you in response - probably more at hearing his name than because he understood your question, but still, you liked to think you could communicate with your dog on such a level. You chuckled and took him in your arms. “Me too.”

—

Apparently, you couldn’t even wave to someone in the hallway without being interrogated about it anymore.

“Y/N, did you just say hi to Jake Sim?” Chaewon asked like you’d just insulted her whole family.

It was 10 a.m. on a simple Tuesday morning, the day after Jake and you had studied together for the first time, and you’d just walked past the boy - so of course, you said hi to him. Maybe, your heart started beating slightly faster when you’d noticed him approaching. Maybe, it was nice to be on the receiving end of his friendly grin.

“Yes?” you replied, sentence coming out more like a question.

“Since when do you say hi to Jake Sim?!” 

“Since today, I guess.”

“But why?!” She’d raised her voice so much, you’d gotten strange looks from other students in the hallway. 

“I told you!”

She shook her head slowly at you as if to say, No you didn’t!

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Chaewon and her early onset short-term memory loss. “The backpack thing? And agreeing to tutoring each other? I wrote to the group chat about this!”

“Oh, that! Of course I remember that,” she said, even though you knew she had forgotten about it and remembered it just now. “So, has that started already?”

You reached the classroom for your next class and sat down in your usual seats next to each other, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Busy hallways like these were the perfect place for gossip, because they were loud and nobody paid attention to others’ conversations. “Yeah, yesterday afternoon.”

Chaewon gasped. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“Will you quiet down? I was going to see and tell you guys today anyway.”

“Okay, so, tell me about it.”

“But-”

“Tell. Me.”

You wouldn’t see Yena and Hyewon until lunch in two hours, and you knew Chaewon didn’t have the patience to wait until then. So you sighed again and obliged, telling her about your afternoon with Jake in every detail you could remember, because she would ask about insignificant things anyway. 

To your surprise, the first thing she said when you were done talking was this: “Y/N, do you like Jake?”

Your mouth opened slightly in shock at the question, but before you could even retort, you started giggling. “No, I don’t,” you said in a way that sounded like you very much did.

“Oh my God! You so do!” Chaewon said, giggling along with you. “You whore, you’ve only talked to him, like, twice,” she joked.

You gasped fake-dramatically and slapped her arm. “Oh please, look at Hyewon and Jaemin, they started dating after a week of talking.”

“Yes, and they’ve been going one year strong, so clearly, you need to ask Jake out and get this over with. You’ll get a boyfriend and a math tutor all-in-one, it’s a perfect deal!”

“Don’t get too carried away, okay? Jake and I are friends. Like you said, we barely know each other right now.”

You meant this - sure, you had had a really good time with Jake both times you saw him, and you were looking forward to your next tutoring session, but you chalked it up to the excitement of making a new friend. Plus, barely last week you felt some sort of way towards his best friend - wouldn’t it be weird to practically transfer your feelings from Sunghoon to Jake?

“Whatever. Yena and Hyewon are gonna freak when I tell them,” Chaewon said excitedly.

You shook your head at your friend but couldn’t keep down the amused grin on your face. “You guys are insane.”

“Oh please, like you’re not the president of our Park Sunghoon fanclub. I can’t believe you’re leaving us for his best friend!”

“Hey, if anything, less competition for you, right?”

Chaewon opened her mouth to say something, but the teacher arrived, starting the lesson before having even put her bag down - Mrs Lee always arrived late but never wasted a second of class when she was in the room. Your friend resorted to sticking her tongue out at you instead, and you chuckled at her childishness as you opened your History notebook. 

—

Jake was a complete, total, utter idiot. His plan had consisted of two things only, and he’d somehow managed to forget one of them, even after talking about it with you, albeit vaguely. It had taken him two weeks and one Park Sunghoon to even remember it.

Between Jake’s soccer practice, Sunghoon’s ice skating practice and Jay’s being away at boarding school, the three friends only had one night every week on which they were all free - Friday night. So, every Friday, they planned some sort of hang out at one of their houses and gamed or watched movies all night.

Kinda like date night, but for bros.

This was one of those bro nights; namely, the one in the second week of you and Jake tutoring each other. The boys had decided to go to the burger joint they like that night and were in the middle of a french fry fight when Sunghoon mentioned your and Jake’s new friendship.

“So, Jake… what’s up with you and Y/N?”

Jake halted in his motions, redirecting to his mouth the fry he was about to throw at Jay. “Nothing’s up with me and Y/N. What makes you say that?”

“Just, you know, you seem like you’ve become actual friends. Talking in the hallways and walking your dogs together and whatnot.”

“Y/N as in Y/N? Sunghoon’s Y/N?” Jay said, halfway through a bite of his cheeseburger.

“She’s not my Y/N-”

“Yes, Y/N as in Y/N, you idiot,” Jake cut in. “And like you said, we’re friends.”

“Is she the girl you posted some BeReals with?” Jay asked, and Jake nodded. “She’s pretty! No wonder Sunghoon likes her so much.”

Sunghoon sighed as he let his head hang low. “God forbid I find a girl cute, because I’ll mention it once, two years ago and you guys make me out to be in love with her.”

“Sunghoon, you act like girls don’t exist, so of course when you not only mention a girl, but describe her as cute, that means you’re in love with her!”

“But I’m not! We were literally having a whole conversation about girls, I happened to see Y/N and her friends from far away, I said she was cute, and now you guys won’t let me live it down. Jay, you weren’t even there!”

“Yeah, but the way Jake told me about the whole thing, it really sounded like you liked her.”

“Why would you trust Jake to relay something like this correctly?!”

Jay paused and tilted his head. “You have a point there.”

“Hey!”

“So you don’t, like… like her, or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at his friend as he sipped on his Pepsi.

This made Jake stop. Did he like you? Wasn’t the fact that he was considering it sign enough? Surely, if there was nothing there, he would have answered no right away.

But there was no use thinking about it. You liked Sunghoon. And as much as he liked to deny it, Jake knew Sunghoon liked you, too. After two years, there was finally an opportunity for the two of you to get closer - Jake wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. If anything, he should help his friends out. Then, when you and Sunghoon eventually got married, Jake would have the honor of saying it was all thanks to him in his best man’s speech. 

“No, I don’t. Don’t worry, Hoon, I’m not gonna steal your girl away from you.”

“Again, she’s not my girl-”

“Whatever you say. I’ll introduce you guys.”

Even if Sunghoon didn’t think he liked you yet, Jake knew it was just a matter of time - his friend just needed to spend a few hours with you to realize he did. You were pretty, smart, funny, nice, had the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, got along with dogs, and even though you sometimes had weird opinions, it was always fun, talking to you. It was easy and comfortable. Anyone with taste would fall for you.

Anyone, except for Jake, of course.

—

For the past three weeks, you and Jake had gotten along perfectly, but today, on this bright Tuesday afternoon, you really wanted to strangle him. 

When he’d invited you to come and watch him at soccer practice, you’d been surprised, but happy - usually, you invited people to watch an actual game, not just practice. But you were just glad for the opportunity to spend more time with him. 

Without realizing it, you were giddy with excitement the whole day, counting down the minutes until classes were over and Jake’s practice started. Jake had told you to just head to the bleachers while the players got ready in the locker room, but when you reached said bleachers, someone was already sitting there, looking at something on their phone. You recognized him immediately as Sunghoon. He didn’t notice you right away, so you had time to wipe the surprise off of your face - you hadn’t thought anyone came to watch practice, but Sunghoon was probably here for Jake, just like you. 

“Hey,” you said quietly as you sat down next to him. Even though you were technically still on school property, this was the first time you saw Sunghoon outside of somewhere like a classroom, a hallway or the cafeteria. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be, seeing him unexpectedly like this. 

You chuckled when Sunghoon started at your sudden arrival. “Oh, hey, Y/N,” he said, chuckling too, albeit somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t hear you coming.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile as you sat down next to him on the bleachers. You didn’t know what sort of distance was appropriate between you two, if you should sit close or far, but you stopped yourself before you could overthink something as trivial as that. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds and you wished practice had started before you got here, so that you’d have something to look at other than an empty field.

You broke the silence before it became too uncomfortable. “So, do you come watch Jake often?”

You’d been fiddling with your hands as you spoke, only turning your head to look at Sunghoon as you awaited his answer. Your eyes didn’t even meet for a fraction of a second before he whipped his head to look at the field, as if unable to look at you and talk at the same time. At least he had a nice side profile for you to look at.

“Um, just on Tuesdays. I have ice skating practice after this, so I come here first, then he comes with me to the rink,” he replied. He glanced at you, lips pressed into a thin line that somewhat resembled a smile and that pushed dimples into his cheeks. You simply hummed in response. 

“What about you, how come you’re here?”

“Jake asked me,” you replied. Sunghoon let out a long “oh” as he nodded, turning his head back towards the field again. You didn’t think you’d ever had such a slow conversation. It was like you and Sunghoon both repeated your words ten times over in your heads before saying them out loud.

“Are you coming to my practice, too?” he asked after another pause.

The question took you aback slightly as you hadn’t even considered it, but it could be fun, seeing Sunghoon practice ice skating. It’d also be fun to hang out with Jake. “If it’s fine with you, then yeah, why not,” you replied, smiling at Sunghoon. He glanced at you again before looking away with a smile, an actual one this time that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah, sure. People usually only come to actual shows, so I like it when someone’s there to watch practice.” Before you could find something to say, the players arrived jogging onto the field, immediately starting their warm-up laps. Some were serious about it and stayed focused as they ran, while others goofed around, running backwards and slapping other players on their butts before sprinting away. Jake, of course, was part of the latter group.

Now that something was actually happening on the field, you and Sunghoon had an excuse not to make conversation anymore. You tried to ignore it, but it was so awkward you wanted to die. You realized now why you were so attracted to people like Jake and Chaewon - without even being aware of it, they brought you out of your shell and made you feel at ease. You wished you could do that on your own, but you were always too scared, so you needed that person who was confident enough showing themselves to you first to make you feel comfortable doing the same. You and Sunghoon, unfortunately, were too similar in that sense to do that for each other. So you just sat there in silence, observing Jake and waving back at him when he caught your gazes.

The ninety minutes of practice didn’t go by in total silence - you asked Sunghoon about some soccer rules you didn’t get, and he shared some anecdotes from his and Jake’s earlier teenage years, including a very entertaining story about a tantrum 9-year-old Jake had thrown when he hadn’t agreed with the red card the referee had given him. You weren’t sure how the topic came up, but at some point, you even shared pictures of your pets. Sunghoon had one of those small crusty white dogs, but you kept your laughter in and cooed over how cute she was. 

But still, most of the time, you were watching Jake. You had never been interested in soccer or any sort of sport that involved balls until now. Somehow, he managed to make flushed cheeks, a heaving chest and hairline beaded with sweat look glorious. In total honesty, you were paying more attention to the player himself than to the sport, to the point that you barely noticed when he scored a goal during their practice match. It was only when Jake started cheering and high-fiving his teammates that you realized what had happened, and you gave him two thumbs up and a wide grin when he looked your and Sunghoon’s way, proudly shouting “Did you see that?!”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks right there and then. The way your heart swelled as you watched his excited, puppyish grin take over his features was undeniable - you liked Jake. You like liked him. Your gaze continued to follow him as he finished his celebratory lap. If you could’ve seen yourself right then, you’d probably have been embarrassed by your awestruck expression and slightly agape mouth, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Much to your dismay, you realized that Chaewon had seen right through you. You hadn’t wanted to read too much into your feelings, but they had become too obvious to ignore. You hadn’t experienced them yourself since middle school (Choi Soobin had really been a heartbreaker back then), but you’d heard about the telltale signs of a crush too many times not to know about them. It was now clear that the way you felt about Jake and the way you had felt about Sunghoon were worlds apart. Feeling nervous around him and your heart skipping a beat when you made eye contact; wanting to see him smile; laughing at all his jokes, even the bad ones; missing him even though it’d been seconds since you said goodbye, and counting down the days until you saw him again. And, yes, looking at his pictures on social media over and over again. You did all those things, so you knew there was no point in lying to yourself anymore - you liked Jake Sim. 

It didn’t help that he was always kind to you, never making you feel stupid for not understanding something in your tutoring sessions and being patient enough to explain the same thing over and over again. He always paid attention to small things, which never failed to make your heart race, like asking after your aging cat’s condition after you’d told him he had a health check-up over the weekend or stocking up on your favorite snack the week after you’d told him about it. He’d also immediately picked up on your habit of teasing the people you felt comfortable with and you loved how he returned it tenfold. It was as much fun debating with him over nothing and making him shut up with your senseless arguments as it was being rendered speechless when he came up with the perfect retort. 

And of course, there was no denying that Jake was ridiculously attractive. There were times you got so caught up in the way his lips moved as he spoke or the way his fingers looked as he pointed at numbers on the page that your mind completely blanked out and you stopped listening to his words for a few seconds. You didn’t know what to make of his small chuckle and smirk when he noticed your gaze fixated on him, but you knew it wasn’t good for your heart. And let’s not even get started on the fact that sitting so close to him meant you could smell the lingering scent of his cologne every single time.

Even now, with flushed cheeks and hair slicked back with sweat, you want to run onto the field and give him a big smooch on his cheek, telling him you were proud of him for scoring that goal.

But even though you were getting closer and he had offered for you to come watch his practice, you squashed down as best as you could any hope that he might feel the same way about you. Even if he insisted he was bad with girls, Jake was popular at school, and you were sure there were many other girls who had a crush on him - so why would he like you of all people?

Sunghoon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Every time he scores, he acts like it’s the first time he’s ever done it,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head at his friend’s over-dramatic antics. The coach was trying to get Jake to calm down so that the game could resume.

“He’s so cute,” you said, voice quiet, before you could stop yourself. But as soon as the words were out, you realized what you’d done, and your eyes doubled in size as you turned to look at Sunghoon. He had whipped his head to look at you, too, and his eyes were just as big as yours. Then, he burst into laughter, and you hoped the Earth would suddenly open beneath your feet and swallow you whole. 

When his surprise had subsided, Sunghoon turned to you again, an incredulous but amused glint in his eyes. “Did you just call Jake cute?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, slightly frowning as you avoided Sunghoon’s gaze. “I just meant, you know, it’s cute how excited he got. I didn’t say he was cute,” you mumbled, knowing you were doing a poor job of defending yourself.

“That’s exactly what you said, though. You said, and I quote, He’s so cute.” You glared at Sunghoon. Who knew he would only become talkative once it came to teasing you about Jake? 

His expression softened slightly when he realized you might actually be upset about this, and he turned his attention back towards the field, smile growing when he found his friend. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“There’s nothing to be said anyway.”

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I tell Jake that you have the biggest, fattest crush on- hmph!”

You’d cut Sunghoon off by pressing your palm to his mouth, mustering the most menacing look you could to scare him off. “I do not,” you said firmly as you moved your hand away from him.

“Sure, you don’t,” he replied, chuckling. Clearly, your most menacing look wasn’t so menacing.

“I get why Jake’s so annoying now, it’s because he’s friends with you.”

Sunghoon raised an amused eyebrow at this. “He might be annoying, but he’s also cute, right?”

“Shut up!” you shrieked immediately, but you couldn’t stop the grin forcing its way onto your lips.

“Just saying,” Sunghoon said, and you laughed together. Maybe you should’ve been more worried about Jake’s literal best friend finding out you had a crush on him, but you somehow trusted Sunghoon not to blabber about it. Whether because he was nice or because he wanted to watch you struggle with your feelings, you weren’t sure, but at least you felt your secret was safe with him.

You looked back at the field, and just as your eyes found Jake, you saw him turn his head away. Had you seen him just seconds prior, you might have noticed the crease in his eyebrows as he watched you and Sunghoon laugh together. Sunghoon isn’t that funny, he thought, what could you be laughing so hard about?

He didn’t understand the sudden weight in his heart at the sight of you and his friend getting along so well. This was his whole plan after all - force some proximity between you and Sunghoon so that you could talk and hopefully make your feelings clear to each other after some time. Clearly, it was working. So why was it bothering him so much? 

He had to turn his attention back to the game, so he could only ruminate over it for five seconds, but for the remaining thirty minutes, he could barely focus on anything. Whenever he glanced back at you and Sunghoon, you were both looking at him and not talking to each other, and that somehow bothered him even more. 

He used his time in the lockers to get out of the weird mood he was in - whatever was going on between you and Sunghoon, he didn’t want to ruin it by being grumpy. So when he came back out and found the two of you waiting for him at the bus stop, he put on his best smile. 

Having you around made his usual Tuesday afternoon with Sunghoon more fun - after years of friendship, Sunghoon ignored most of his jokes and could tune the sound of his voice out, but you still laughed at everything he said, and his heart swelled with pride every time he made you laugh.

It was only a ten-minute bus ride from the school to the ice rink so you still had twenty minutes to spare before Sunghoon’s lesson started. As always after soccer practice, Jake was famished, so you stopped by a convenience store and got more snacks than you really needed.

You sat next to Sunghoon and across from Jake at a picnic table in front of the ice rink, watching the boy in front of you with fascination as he gorged himself on banana milk and chocolate snacks.

“God, how long has it been since you last ate?” you asked with genuine concern in your voice. Sunghoon followed your gaze towards Jake, only then noticing his friend’s feral behavior as if this was a normal occurrence for them.

“Like three hours,” Jake answered. “I’m starving. So hungry I could eat Sunghoon.”

When he looked up, you were both peering at him with furrowed eyebrows and bewildered expressions on your faces. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you mean that Sunghoon is a horse?” you asked.

Jake mirrored your confused expressions. “What? No, why would I say that?”

“The saying goes, so hungry I could eat a horse, dumbass,” Sunghoon chimed in.

“Why would I eat a horse?” Jake replied, shaking his head and chuckling at you and Sunghoon like you were the ones who had gotten a basic idiom wrong.

“Why would you eat me?” Sunghoon bit back, sounding almost offended.

“It’s just a saying, dude.”

Half-an-hour and two whole packets of biscuits later, you and Jake sat side-by-side on the benches, watching Sunghoon as he did his warm-ups on the ice. This was your first time seeing a professional ice skater and you were transfixed, to say the least. He was just skating across the rink and rolling his arms and neck to get the muscles moving, but it all seemed so effortless and elegant that you couldn’t help but watch with your mouth slightly open, eyes eager to keep up with Sunghoon’s figure.

You were so mesmerized that you had no idea Jake was practically burning holes into the side of your face. Eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in disgust, he couldn’t believe you were enjoying the show in front of you that much. “He’s not even doing anything special right now, you know,” he said, but it only made him realize that when Sunghoon did start doing cool stuff, you’d like it even more.

Your head barely budged in Jake’s direction as you answered him, and your eyes certainly didn’t leave Sunghoon. “Really? It already looks so cool, though.” Jake scoffed, but that still didn’t get your attention, which made him scoff again. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned like a child whose parent wasn’t paying attention to their drawing. 

“Cooler than me?”

Finally, you look at me, Jake thought, and his frown immediately dissipated into a grin when your eyes met. But judging by the teasing way your lips curled up, he already knew he wasn’t going to like your answer.

“Cooler than you,” you replied before turning your attention back to the rink.

Jake leans back with a pout, opting to glare at his friend instead of you. He tried to put himself in your shoes and figure out what it was about Sunghoon you liked so much that Jake didn’t also have. Devastatingly good looks? Check. Charming smile? Check. Cute dog? Check - Jake more so than Sunghoon. Brains? Okay, both of them lacked this. Good personality? Check - however, you needed months before Sunghoon revealed himself to you, whereas Jake was outgoing and was comfortable even with people he’d just met. 

So why was the bearer of your affection Sunghoon and not Jake?

And why did Jake even care that you liked his friend over him in the first place?

It wasn’t like Jake liked you - he couldn’t like a girl that his best friend liked - so why did this at all matter to him? If anything, the fact that you liked Sunghoon back should’ve been something to rejoice over. It had been, up until now, and Jake couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t figure out this weird sensation that had plagued him in the soccer field and followed him to the ice rink as he watched you watch Sunghoon with amazement.

Jake was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when you detached your eyes from Sunghoon, who was talking to his coach, and tilted your head at him. “Jake?” 

The boy only let out a low hum, still too upset to look at you.

An amused grin made your lips quirk up. “Are you pouting because I said Sunghoon was cooler than you?”

Jake scoffed, turning his head away from you. “No.”

A pause. “So you don’t mind if I go on and on about how elegant and beautiful ice skating is, while running after a ball and kicking it is the basis of the stupidest sport in the world?”

Jake glared at you, but it only made you smile more. “It’s not stupid.”

Despite himself, his pretend angry facade broke apart at the sound of your airy giggles. Jake didn’t think his ears had ever been graced with such a pretty sound before - he slapped himself mentally as soon as that thought crossed his mind. 

His heart did jumps and spins more impressive than Sunghoon’s when you reached a hand out to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at his behavior. For once, he was glad that you turned back to Sunghoon so that you wouldn’t see the bright blush spreading all over his face.

For the next hour, Jake put his weird feelings to the side and watched his friend practice his routine for his upcoming competition. Even he had to admit that Sunghoon looked pretty cool doing what he loved.

You told him you found it all the more impressive because you’d never skated before, so it looked unachievable to you, and an idea immediately formed in Jake’s mind. As soon as Sunghoon’s practice was over, he rushed over to his friend and asked if the two of you could join him on the ice. Sunghoon turned to his coach, who simply shrugged.

“I trust you to look after them,” she said. “Just make sure to be out when the hockey team gets here.”

Before you knew it, Jake was helping you tie up your ice skates (the sight of which made you faint-hearted) and both boys helped you onto the ice rink, each holding onto one of your hands as you tried not to freak out at the feeling of your knees being so wobbly. Sunghoon demonstrated how to move around the ice, and soon enough, you’d gotten the hang of it - but you still made sure to keep Jake at an arm’s length so you could grab onto him every time you lost your balance. Jake stayed by your side, smiling fondly at how excited you looked and cheering you on every time you took a step of your own. Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to find it funny to watch from afar and point and laugh every time you stumbled.

After some time, Sunghoon announced he was feeling hungry and decided to go eat some snacks, leaving you and Jake alone in the rink. The wink Sunghoon threw your way when Jake wasn’t looking let you know what his true intentions were, and you couldn’t believe Jake’s best friend had just become your wingman.

“Feeling ready to skate around the rink?” Jake asked. His boyish grin was contagious, and you found yourself matching it even though you were still nervous about moving around too much.

“If you help me,” you answered tentatively, looking at him worriedly as you held out your hand for him to take. The softness of his gaze as he smiled down at you made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Of course,” he said, taking your hand in his warm one. Your fingers intertwined as if out of second nature and you thought you finally understood why people said their hands were meant to hold someone else’s.

Being friends with an ice skater for such a long time meant Jake had acquired some skill, too, which is why he could so easily show you how to turn or pick up speed. Whenever you lost your balance, he was always quick enough to make sure you didn’t actually fall, picking you up before your backside could touch the ice. He found your frightened expression every time you thought you would fall absolutely adorable, but your pout and slight frown whenever he teased you were somehow even cuter.

He only let go of your hand after some ten minutes (neither of you had even begun to question Sunghoon’s whereabouts by then) when he came to stand in front of you, a serious expression on his face.

“I think you’re ready, Y/N,” he declared solemnly.

“Ready for…?” you asked, scared of whatever he had in mind.

He leaned in slightly and the sudden proximity took you aback, but he didn’t seem to realize. A mischievous smirk broke through his handsome features. “A race,” he whispered, then skated to one edge of the rink and motioned for you to follow him. Reluctantly, you did.

“First to the other edge has to…” he thought for a second, gazing at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at him for proposing a race when you’d literally just learned how to skate, but how could you when he looked so cute and giddy, searching for the loser’s penalty? “Buy the other ice cream!”

Your eyes were probably the image of tenderness as you looked at him. “Deal,” you said, wanting to sound as playful as him but voice coming out soft. Since when had you fallen so hard for him?

You held each other’s gazes for a couple more seconds before both turning in front of you, getting ready for your race. Jake counted down from three, and your skating wasn’t so bad at first - until you got too cocky for your own good, trying to go at a pace you clearly couldn’t handle. Before you knew it, your knees betrayed you and you found yourself tripping over, your butt making a loud thump sound as it came into contact with the ice.

On your way down, you’d shrieked Jake’s name, and he was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding your shoulder and looking at you worriedly. The pain was immediate, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t answer him and reassure him that you were fine.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked to race, God Y/N I’m so stupid I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t want you to get hurt-”

“Jake,” you squeaked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay, calm down,” you said when the pain subsided, managing a smile. “I’ll just have a sore butt tomorrow.” He chuckled at the word ‘butt,’ but you didn’t have it in you to roll his eyes at his childishness.

“Are you sure you’re okay? There’s an infirmary here-”

“I’m sure, Jakey-poo,” you teased, making him lose the concerned expression as he bore an unimpressed one instead.

“I guess you are fine if you can think to call me that. Come on, up!” he said as he stood up, reaching his hands out for you to take. Just as he helped you up, Sunghoon came sprinting and stood at the entrance to the rink.

“Is everything okay? I heard a yell,” he said, slightly out-of-breath with half a biscuit in his mouth. Guess he really was eating this whole time.

You and Jake laughed and shook your head at him, and you reassured him that everything was fine. 

“Good, ‘cause the hockey team’s here and we have to go anyway.”

There was a bus that took Sunghoon directly from the ice rink to his house, but you and Jake had to go back to the school to catch the one you usually took, which meant you had a forty-minute journey in front of you. And yet, Jake’s company made those forty minutes feel like five, and you found yourself disappointed when the bus neared your stop.

“If you want, we can still go walk Kiwi and Layla,” he offered shyly a few minutes before your stop, as if he’d read your mind. 

“I’d love to.” You watched as his small smile bloomed into a wider one.

“I’m glad,” he chuckled, relieved. “I was scared you’d be tired of me after spending the whole afternoon together,” he admitted, looking down at his lap with a bashful expression on his face. It wasn’t often that Jake looked timid like this, but whenever he did, your heart tripled in size.

“I don’t think I could get tired of you.” You were too shy to look him in the eye while you said this, but in your peripheral, you saw his grin get impossibly wider and his eyebrows raise. He bumped your shoulder with his, making the both of you burst into giggles.

You were still smiling long after you’d come home from your walk.

—

Unfortunately for Jake, forcing you and Sunghoon to sit together for ninety minutes hadn’t resulted in the two of you confessing your undying love for the other and getting together - clearly, his plan hadn’t worked very well. But Jake, instead of coming up with another strategy, decided he should just basically do the same thing again and hope it went better this time. 

Bro night had been a tradition for the past three years that the boys only very rarely broke, in cases of illness, filial obligations or important competitions the following day. This wasn’t any one of those cases, but Jake decided bro night must be slightly sacrificed that night - for your and Sunghoon’s sake. Years down the line, he knew you’d thank him.

This was why he tricked you into thinking you had been invited to bro night (you’d heard a lot about it and considered it an honor to be included) when really, he made Jay promise not to show at the cinema so that you and Sunghoon could be alone. The two of them would make up an excuse about not being able to make it on time and show up later at the diner (“If you want to set them up, shouldn’t we also leave them alone after the movie?” Jay had asked Jake over the phone, and Jake had been unable to explain why he didn’t want you to spend the whole night alone with Sunghoon).

“They ditched us,” Sunghoon had said in lieu of a greeting when you found him at the entrance of the cinema. He turned his phone screen towards you, showing you their group chat - Jay had had some sort of meeting at his school that had run late and Jake had to go to the vet suddenly because Layla kept making weird noises.

“Oh no, I hope she’ll be okay,” you said, voice laced with genuine worry.

Sunghoon just sighed. “I’m sure she will.” He knew what his friends were up to - it almost never happened that one of them was unable to make it to bro night, so two at once? They were clearly lying. He would make sure to tell Jake how worried sick you were about his dog’s fake illness later on just so his friend would feel extra guilty.

You had been looking forward to hanging out with Jake and his friends all day, so you were disappointed to know he wouldn’t make it until later. It wasn’t much comfort that the movie they had picked, some recent Marvel release, was one you were not at all interested in, and you couldn’t even obsess over Jake’s presence next to you instead of the movie because he wasn’t there. You’d have to sit with awkward, quiet Sunghoon for God knows how long - at least the cinema wasn’t much of a talking place. 

You declined his kind offer of sharing a big popcorn tub - you didn’t want to risk a cliché reaching-for-popcorn-at-the-same-time moment with Sunghoon, although you’d daydreamed and giggled about it happening with Jake earlier that day. Instead, you sipped grumpily on your Cherry Coke, watching the trailers for upcoming movies and discussing them with Sunghoon. (“I’m so excited for the Barbie movie,” he’d surprised you by saying. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.)

As the lights dimmed, announcing the imminent start of the movie, Sunghoon whispered something that completely changed your mind about Marvel. “It’s so stupid that Jake isn’t here, seriously. He’s been going on and on about going to see this movie since the trailer came out.” Suddenly, you’d never felt the need to pay attention to something more than this. 

Well, in your humble opinion, the film wasn’t anything to write home about. It was a lot of loud action scenes with some funny one-liners that, okay, you chuckled at. And the actors were hot. You could sort of see why Jake would enjoy Marvel movies, although you yourself liked films with more social commentary, such as Mean Girls or Bee Movie. You’d need to make Jake watch Twilight one of these days - you were sure he’d like the soundtrack, if nothing else.

At least, you and Sunghoon have something to talk about during your short walk to the diner. As you enter the restaurant, a familiar voice calling out your name catches you off-guard.

“Chaewon? I thought you didn’t work on Friday nights!” you exclaimed, letting your friend bring you into a hug. You gave her a once-over - she always looked so pretty in her work uniform, white t-shirt dress draping her body perfectly, apron cinching at her waist, and short pigtails under her 50’s style diner hat. If the blush spreading on Sunghoon’s cheeks at her sudden appearance was anything to go by, his thoughts might not have been too far from yours.

She pouted, taking your hands in hers and swaying them between the two of you. “I usually don’t, but Yunjin asked me to trade shifts and she always says yes when I ask her, so I felt bad saying no.” You nodded and she turned to Sunghoon.

“Hi, Sunghoon!”

“H-hi, Chaewon.”

“Where’s Jay and Jake?” she asked, looking behind the two of you. You’d told the group chat about your evening plans and a lot of freaking out had taken place. 

“Should be here any minute,” you sighed, and when she looked at you questioningly, you told her you’d explain later.

She sat you at a four-person booth by the window and brought you drinks (“On the house,” she’d said with a wink, but you weren’t sure this had been allowed by any of her superiors) for you to sip on while you waited for the others. Every time she was free, she came over to your table and gossiped about the customers. You did not miss the way Sunghoon’s face lit up whenever she approached you.

Jake and Jay see you before you see them. Jay, the only one with a driver’s license out of the three, had picked Jake up, and he was parking his car when Jake gasped loudly, making Jay jump. “I’m trying to park, man, can you be calm?”

“What’s she doing here?” Jake exclaimed, completely ignoring his friend.

Jay followed Jake’s gaze, but he wasn’t sure what his friend was going on about. All he saw was you, whom he recognized from pictures only, Sunghoon, and a waitress that seemed overly-friendly. “Who?” he asked.

“Chaewon,” Jake hissed, like her name was a curse. “She’s ruining our plan!”

Jay sighed. “First of all, this is your plan. Second of all, it was ruined from the beginning. And by that, I mean that your plan sucks, Jake.”

Jake clicked his teeth. “Whatever. Let’s just go,” he said, getting out of the car and heading straight for you. He made sure to give Chaewon a pointed look as he sat next to you in the booth, but she just seemed happy that more people had arrived. 

You bumped your knee into his to get his attention. “Hi,” you said with a smile.

He looked at you dumbly for a few seconds before Jay cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hi. This is Jay,” he said, tilting his head towards the boy but not taking his eyes off of you. You and Jay exchanged hey’s before Chaewon took your order, quickly giving it to the kitchen and scanning the room to make sure every table had what they needed, then headed back to your table. 

“Is Layla okay?” you asked Jake, worry making your brows furrow.

“Huh?” The sudden mention of his dog took him aback. Why wouldn’t she be okay?

“Layla?” you repeated, tilting your head. “Is she okay? You said you had to go to the vet.”

His eyes widened as he remembered his lie from earlier, and he started nodding frantically. “Oh yeah, yeah, she’s fine, we panicked over nothing,” he said with a nervous giggle. Jake was the worst liar Jay and Sunghoon had ever seen, but you were none the wiser.

“What about you, Jay? How was your school thing?” Sunghoon asked, turning to his friend with a glare and making him choke on his Coke.

“Oh, that was fine too, I guess,” Jay mumbled.

As expected, Jake and Chaewon were experts at leading the conversation, and Jay himself was pretty talkative. They all bounced off of each other naturally, and even Sunghoon knew how to throw in witty remarks now and there. You also participated, but you were more than happy just listening to them and laughing along. You tried not to think too much about how your knee would bump into Jake’s once in a while, or how he seemed to look at you every time he made a joke.

At some point, Chaewon had rushed over to your table, looking right at you with wide eyes and beaming. “Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God, Y/N, hat guy is here!” 

You instantly mirrored her expression. “Where where where?” you asked, lifting your body up to scan around the restaurant.

“Over there in the corner, but be discreet!”

You were not at all discreet as your eyes found said hat guy, noting with satisfaction that he was characteristically hatless, and you burst into laughter. “I can’t believe he’s here!”

“Right? Probably has the munchies or something,” Chaewon said, laughing along.

You only noticed then the perplexed looks all three boys were sending your way. “Who the heck is hat guy?” Jake asked, which only made you and Chaewon laugh harder.

“You wouldn’t get it,” she replied airily, waving Jake off as she made her way to a customer who had called for her. 

The boys turned to you and you shrunk in your seat at their attention. “Just a guy the girls and I find funny,” you explained, shrugging and glancing quickly at Sunghoon. If only he knew about all the times you and the girls had gossiped about him, even though he’d done nothing of importance.

When her shift was over, the first thing Chaewon did was take off her apron, then dragged you to the bathroom, where she drilled you for details about your cinema “date” with Sunghoon. 

“It was not a date, it just ended up being the two of us because the others couldn’t make it,” you insisted, but she wasn’t having it. “There’s nothing to say anyway. We got there, talked a bit, watched the movie, walked here, and that’s it.”

Chaewon sighed, shaking her head as she reapplied her lip gloss. A small smile made its way onto your lips. “I think he’s into someone else anyway.” 

You noticed how her hand faltered for a split second. “Oh yeah? Who?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but you knew your friend too well. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

Unbeknownst to either of you, the discussion between the boys back at the table was not too different from yours.

“Bro, I’m literally going to kill you,” Sunghoon whisper-yelled even though you were way out of earshot already. “Do you know how awkward that was?”

“Just so you know, I had nothing to do with this,” Jay said. “I told him that putting two socially constipated idiots like you wouldn’t end well, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Y/N’s not an idiot!” Jake immediately reacted.

“And I am?!” Sunghoon retorted.

Jay just rolled his eyes.

“You are, because this is the second time you’re alone together with the girl you like and you can barely make conversation with her.”

“For the last time, I don’t like her, I just called her cute once in freshman year-”

“Same thing!”

“Jake, I don’t know how many times I can tell you the same thing before you get it. I’ve been around Y/N enough to know I don’t like her like that, okay? We’ve had two classes where we sat together for a whole semester, and we’ve worked with other people in group projects. Not to mention, you’ve made me sit through one of your practices with her. She’s nice. She sends me the homework when I miss class. She even laughs at my jokes sometimes. And her dog is super cute. I’m sure we’d be better friends if we both didn’t have crippling shyness, but I don’t like her like that. I just don’t.”

“But how?!”

“What do you mean how? This sorta thing doesn’t have any sort of reasonable answer, you just do or you don’t. I don’t. Clearly, you do.”

Jake heard the last part of Sunghoon’s words, and promptly decided to ignore them. He had to understand this first - he’d figure out his feelings later. “This whole time, I thought you were just downplaying your feelings, ‘cause you’re an awkward asshole who doesn’t do emotions,” he said, eyes tightly shut and holding his head, the confusion making his brain hurt.

“Okay, ouch. But no, I wasn’t. I really don’t know what got into your head.”

“I know what got into his head,” Jay said. Both of his friends looked at him questioningly, so he went on. “When Sunghoon mentioned Y/N, you probably thought she was super cute too, Jake. But because of bro code and whatnot, you didn’t wanna show any interest. And then as you saw her around more, you probably liked her more, but you thought Sunghoon liked her, so you sort of gave him your crush on her instead of dealing with it. You lived vicariously through him, basically. Except you’re an idiot because he doesn’t even like her like that, so you could’ve shot your shot a long time ago already. I don’t know why you didn’t just listen to him, to be honest,” Jay finished, shrugging.

“You also thought he liked her!” Jake retorted.

“That’s besides the point. The point is that you’re stupid.”

“But- but, what about all those times you talked about her? I didn’t make those up!” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The most I ever said about her was something like, Y/N and I both forgot our textbook today, or Y/N brought cookies for the class because it’s her birthday. You were always the one to notice her everywhere and go, There’s your crush, or something.”

Jake sighed, defeated. He could admit Sunghoon was right about something, and he was wrong - but he hated that Jay was also right. Had he really managed to bury his feelings for you all these years just for what he thought was Sunghoon’s sake? Sure, he was a loyal friend, but that felt a little much.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, recoiling from his friends’ expectant gazes and taking a sad bite of his cheeseburger. “It’s not like she likes me back, or anything.” 

He watched in confusion as Sunghoon let out a loud groan, screwing his eyes shut and taking his head in his hands as if it hurt. “This is so frustrating, I’m going to kill myself.”

Jake turned to Jay for some sort of explanation to their friend’s sudden suicidal thoughts, but Jay just looked back at Jake with disgust. “When did you become so dumb? I swear you didn’t use to be like this,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jake’s eyes flickered between his two friends in utter dismay. “What?”

“Jake,” Jay started. “Do you really, honestly, genuinely think Y/N doesn’t like you?”

The boy leaned back in his seat with a pout. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Sunghoon’s head whipped up at this. Jake gulped at the intense glare his friend fixed him with - he’d never looked so angry with him, and it made Jake wonder what on Earth he could have said or done that made Sunghoon so upset. “Why?” he asked simply, but the frustration was evident in his voice.

Your diary popped up in Jake’s head. What he had read was clear. Of course, the entry dated from over a month ago now, but why would your feelings have changed since then? Jake sighs deeply, getting ready to reveal to his friends what he’d seen, but then he sees you and Chaewon emerging from the bathroom. “They’re coming back,” he mumbled.

It was Sunghoon and Jay’s turn to sigh. “Just pay attention to her, Jake, okay?” Jay instructed, giving his friend an intent look.

“I already do,” Jake replied, frowning.

“No, really pay attention to her. Then use your pea-sized brain for once in your life, and maybe you’ll realize something.”

A strongly-worded reply was on the tip of Jake’s tongue, but all thoughts of violence and murdering his friend were replaced by images of rainbows and pretty flowers when you smiled at him. He felt like the biggest of idiots for liking you so much and only realizing it now.

“Hi,” he said dumbly as you found your seat next to him again, then stole a french fry from you even though he had many left himself. When you gasped at his audacity, he just giggled.

“Hey!” you exclaimed in protest before stealing a fry back. 

If you hadn’t been so caught up in your little world, you’d have noticed the knowing look your three friends exchanged and their simultaneous eye roll. 

—

The following Monday, you decided to have your tutoring session at your house instead of Jake’s. His mom was away at a convention for the week, so you’d have to take the bus anyway - since your house was two stops earlier, you offered to switch it up for once. Jake had never actually been inside your house and was curious to see what it was like, so he eagerly agreed. 

Kiwi was happy to see him and followed the two of you around the house as you gave Jake a quick tour before going up to your room. When you reached the top landing, you realized that Kiwi was still at the bottom of the stairs and was looking up at you expectantly. “Is she not allowed upstairs?” Jake asked.

“Usually not, but I let her come up when my mom’s not here. Come on Kiwi! It’s okay!”

Kiwi didn’t need to be told twice - she trudged her little body up the stairs, and you couldn’t help but giggle at her adorableness. “She’s so cute,” you cooed, looking at your dog with a huge smile on your face.

“She really is,” Jake agreed, but when you turned your head to face him, he wasn’t looking at Kiwi - he was looking straight at you, a softness in his eyes that made your stomach turn. He snapped out of it when he noticed your round, surprised eyes, and cleared his throat. “So, where’s your room?” he asked, looking around the hallway and avoiding your gaze.

“Over there,” you replied, fighting the smile that tried to make its way to your lips as you headed towards your room, Jake and Kiwi following right behind. 

You told Jake to wait for a second as you went to get a second chair. When you came back, he was standing in front of your shelves, upper body slightly bent forwards to observe all the decorations and framed pictures closer. You placed the chair next to your desk then joined him, answering all the questions he had about the items on your shelves. Who’s this? When was this? Where did you get this? In his defense, you really did have a lot of things - you were trying to get rid of your hoarding habits, but you got attached to every small thing that held some sort of significance. You went to sit at the edge of your bed and just watched him, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

It reminded you of the first time you’d been to his house, how upset he’d seemed when you talked about his baby pictures and how you hadn’t wanted to risk looking at all the stuff in his room. You were also curious about things like that, and you wondered once again what had bothered him so much. The question was burning your tongue - although you were nervous to ask it, not wanting to upset Jake once more, you now knew him well enough to know he wasn’t the type to stay mad for long. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jake replied, fingers toying with your favorite Littlest Pet Shop figurine you had kept from when you were eight.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at your baby photos that one time?”

Jake paused at your words. He stood up straight and set the figurine back on the shelf. He glanced at you before walking over to your bed and taking a seat next to you, leaning back on his palms while you rested your hands underneath your thighs. 

“You probably noticed I don’t mention my dad, right? Or the fact that he’s never home?” 

You nodded in response. You had noticed it, but you’d never brought the topic up in case it might be sensitive. Jake sighed. “He passed away when I was six.”

You turned your head towards him. To your surprise, his face remained expressionless - you couldn’t detect any sort of sadness or anger in his features, as if he was just reciting a fact. His uncharacteristic numbness upset you even more than any tears could have. 

He met your gaze and gave you a small smile. “I was so young that I only have very vague memories of him, like playing soccer together in the backyard or a trip to the beach with my parents and my brother. I only remember his face and his voice from the photos and videos my mom has shown me.” He sighed again, shifting forwards and resting his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. “So when I see these pictures, they sort of just remind me of what I’ve lost? I really don’t like lingering on them. I sort of just ignore them every time I walk up or down the stairs.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have mentioned them if I’d known-”

Jake is quick to shake his head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have guessed.” You want to comfort Jake in some way, thank him for telling you something so personal, but you’re not sure what words to use - so, instead, you take one of his hands in yours and bring it to your lap, then cover it with your other one. Your eyes meet for a second - he looks slightly taken aback at first, but then, his eyes drift down to your joined hands, and a small blush spreads on his cheeks.

“I’m- I’m okay, really. Like I said, it happened so long ago that I’m used to not having a dad now. It almost feels like it’s always been that way, which makes it even weirder to think it wasn’t. It’s just… It feels weird to miss someone I barely remember so much, you know?”

You nodded and let out a low hum. “I do know.” Jake tilted his head at you, silently asking you to go on. “It’s different, but I get that feeling of missing something you barely remember. I have these blurry memories of my parents being happy together and the three of us being a happy family, and then all of a sudden it’s hearing arguments from my room and my dad moving out, and they’re asking me, Do you wanna live with mom or dad?”

You watched as Jake moved his hand slightly, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your hand. “I was older than you were when they divorced, so I guess I have more memories to hold onto, but they hurt more than anything.” You let out a deep sigh. “My dad cheated, so it’s not like I wished my mom had stayed with him, but I was too young to understand what was happening. I just wanted my parents together again.” 

When you lifted your head to look at him, he met your gaze, and his eyes were so soft yet so intense, like he was seeing right into you. Then he chuckled. “Do you ever get jealous of other people’s parents?” he asks, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“All the time,” you admitted with a chuckle, relieved to find out you weren’t the only one. “Yena has been blessed with these like, practically perfect parents that are still in love after twenty years, never argue and have a healthy relationship with all of their kids. I’m so in awe every time I see them.”

“Sunghoon’s parents are like that. I feel terrible, but every time they come to cheer him on at his competitions, I just get so jealous, wishing I also had three people coming to see my games and not just two. And I always feel so silly for feeling that way.”

“You’re not silly for that, Jake,” you said, and the honesty in your voice seemed to take him aback slightly. A grin spread on your lips. “You may be silly for other things, but not for that,” you teased, making him chuckle. “I can be your third person, if you want,” you said softly, lightly bumping your shoulder against his.

His eyes seemed to light up at your words, and your smile couldn’t help but get wider at his reaction - that was, until he raised an eyebrow, almost defiantly. “Yeah? I thought you found soccer boring,” he said with a playful smirk.

“It’s not boring if you’re the one playing,” you replied. A small noise of surprise escaped his throat before he could help it, not expecting you to be so forward, and you both burst into giggles. 

He cleared his throat when you both calmed down and stood up straighter, trying to put on a cool front. “Of course it isn’t.” He turned his head to look out the window, and the sight of the sunlight perfectly hitting his features and turning his dark brown eyes a hazel color almost took your breath away. “It’s really nice out,” he suddenly said. He turned back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we ditch the tutoring for today and go out?”

His eyes drifted down to your lips, watching as a smile tugged at the corners of your own. “I’m in.”

That was how you found yourselves sitting at a bench in the park close to your house, eating ice cream and watching Kiwi and Layla play together. You tried each other’s ice cream, and you regretted your choice of simple vanilla and strawberry as soon as Jake’s mango ice cream touched your tongue. Your eyes widened at the amazing taste - it felt like you had bit into an actual mango. 

“Good, right?” Jake asked, chuckling at your reaction.

“What the heck, yours is so much better than mine,” you mumbled, pouting at the ice cream in your cup like it had personally hurt you.

Jake thought for a second, looking back and forth between your upset expression and his own cup. “Wanna switch?”

Your heart was screaming yes, but your brain was screaming no. You tried your best to appear genuine when you smiled at him. “No, don’t worry about it. I still like mine.” You looked at him as you scooped another spoonful into your mouth as if to prove to him you were happy with your choice, even going so far as to hum in delight.

Jake just chuckled and shook his head at you, taking your cup and giving you his anyway. You were about to protest until he started eating your ice cream, imitating your previous hum. You quietly accepted the exchange, smiling as you tasted the mango ice cream again and trying to ignore the fact that Jake hadn’t switched the spoons with the cups, so you were using his and he was using yours. 

As you ate in silence, occasionally chuckling at your dogs’ antics, Jake stole some glances at you. He wasn’t sure why you looked so much prettier today than all the times he’d seen you before. Or maybe you were just as pretty as you’d always been, and he was just finally letting himself admit it. 

He may have had many friends, but there weren’t many people Jake was truly himself around. He always felt the need to be this friendly, outgoing guy that made it seem like everything was going well in his life, but with you, he felt like it was okay to stop pretending. He felt like it was okay to ask for help, like it was okay to reveal the darker parts of his life.

Now that Jay and Sunghoon had practically forced him to see the truth, Jake didn’t know what to do about his feelings for you. He finally understood why he always looked forward to your tutoring sessions, why he was so excited whenever he walked past you in the hallways, and why he was so bothered about you and Sunghoon getting along.

Sunghoon. Because even if Jake now knew that he liked you, he also knew that you liked someone else. And what was the point of letting himself fall for you even more when there was no happy ending in sight for him? He’d only get hurt in the end.

Just as the thought hit him, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Every time you smiled at him like that, Jake felt like he was watching a movie. Everything happened in slow-motion, with flowers falling around you and violins playing in the background. Jake almost felt sick, knowing he was only the second lead in your romance movie. He was the stupid werewolf and Sunghoon was the vampire that glistened in the sun and got the girl. (You had convinced him to watch Twilight, saying it was a mandatory watch to understand who you were as a person. Of course, Jake had streamed it that same night. The soundtrack was surprisingly good.)

Your voice snapped him out of his downward-spiraling thoughts. “You know, I almost got scared that Sunghoon would appear out of thin air and start hanging out with us.”

Jake tried not to sneer at the mention of his best-friend-turned-number-one-nemesis. “Why? Wouldn’t you like that?” he mumbled, clearly doing a poor job of seeming unaffected.

You frowned, then lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your almost-finished ice cream. “No, I’d rather if it was just the two of us.” Jake’s eyes widened, unsure if he’d heard that correctly or not. But before he could say anything in response, you spoke again. “It’s just, he was there when I came to watch your practice and when I thought we were all going to see a movie together, it was just him and me. You would’ve liked that movie, by the way,” you said, looking up at Jake with a smile.

Jake’s heart swelled. He wasn’t sure what what you were saying all meant, but unconsciously, his lips mirrored yours and he smiled back at you. Until he remembered you didn’t like him, and his smile fell immediately. Obviously, you had no idea what he was thinking, so his sudden stony expression sent alarms ringing through your head.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, or anything,” you said, panicked, and Jake had to keep himself from scoffing, “it’s just that- you know. It’s nice to hang out with you outside of tutoring sessions,” you finished, mumbling. 

Jake had no idea what you were saying, so he stayed quiet, watching as Kiwi and Layla ran around in circles. You liked Sunghoon, so why would you rather hang out with Jake and not him? You weren’t making any sense. 

You, on the other hand, were not liking Jake’s uncharacteristic silence. In hopes of getting his attention, you crossed one leg over the other, shifting on the bench to face him. “Plus, don’t you think he and Chaewon really hit it off the other night? I think that was the most I’ve ever heard him talk,” you said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. To your dismay, it didn’t work. You didn’t know whether he was sulking or genuinely upset - all you knew was you desperately wanted to see a smile on his pretty face again.

“Jakey?” you called out, and your voice sounded so small it hurt his heart. He hummed in response, only glancing at you for a fraction of a second. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he replied, scooping the last of the ice cream in his mouth. As he tasted the strawberry and vanilla flavors, he couldn’t believe he had given his precious mango ice cream up all for a girl who didn’t even like him back. What a fool.

“I don’t know, you’re all- weird, all of a sudden, for lack of a better word.” You searched for some sort of an answer in his eyes, but he supplied you with none. 

Jake sighed deeply. He could feel the ugly mix of emotions in his belly turning into anger - anger at what exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to lay it on you. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired,” he said. Sure, it was warm for a May afternoon, but it wasn’t that hot. But you didn’t want to push it.

“Should we go home?“ you offered, and the worry in your voice made him feel even worse. He just couldn’t understand why you were being so nice to him. He knew you probably just thought you were looking after a friend, but he'd rather you not care about his well-being and leave him be. He didn’t need one more reason to like you - he already had plenty of those. 

He nodded, mustering as convincing a smile as he could. “Sure.” 

The walk home was much quieter than usual. You could feel that Jake was keeping something to himself, and it was killing you; but whatever it was, you wanted him to tell you when he felt ready and not feel forced to. Your hand was aching, desperate to reach out and grab his as you had done before, but you were afraid that would only push him away even further. So you stayed silent most of the time, only commenting on the things around you or speaking a thought out loud when you thought it might make Jake smile. Every time his lips curled up, even ever so slightly, your heart swelled with relief.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was making up his mind. He knew he needed time away from you to gather his feelings before he could see you as a friend again. 

When you reached your house, Jake waited outside with the dogs as you grabbed his bag he’d left upstairs. You hugged goodbye as always, but this one was different - it lasted a few seconds longer than usual, and you could swear Jake held you tighter than he normally would. It felt like he was saying goodbye for more than just a couple days.

You didn’t understand why it made your heart ache so much.

—

The next day, when you walked past Jake and Sunghoon in the hallway, Jake barely glanced at you and only tilted his head in your general direction instead of his usual wide grin and wave. You were so shocked by his sudden snubbing that you halted in your steps right away, looking behind you at his retreating figure. You locked eyes with Sunghoon, who seemed just as confused as you felt. He shrugged at you before returning to his friend and nudging his arm.

On Wednesday morning, you got a text from Jake that he couldn’t make it to your tutoring session that afternoon because of an extra soccer practice to prepare for their game that weekend, something he had never mentioned before.

Thursday and Friday weren’t very different, and your heart became heavier with every time you walked past each other and he acted like you weren’t even there. You desperately wanted to know what you’d done wrong, why he’d started to reply in one-word sentences instead of his usual voice messages and tons of emojis, but no matter how much you cogitated, you couldn’t figure it out. Even when you asked him how his game had gone, a dry Good stared back at you from your phone screen.

That Saturday, your girlfriends came over. Yena had brought beads and strings to make accessories out of, and the mere sight of them had brought fond memories back to all four of you - during your first sleepover in freshman year, this was the exact activity that had kept you occupied for hours. 

You got started on them immediately, each finding a comfortable spot in your room as soft music played in the background. You lay on your bed while Chaewon and Yena took over the floor and Hyewon sat at your desk.

“I’m gonna make one of those phone accessories,” Yena said excitedly, reaching for the biggest, most colorful beads.

“I’m gonna make couple bracelets for Jaemin and I,” Hyewon said somewhat shyly but beaming. Yena and Chaewon groaned at her words, but they gave you an idea.

“You guys are vomit-inducing,” Yena replied, and if you didn’t know your friend any better, just going off the tone of her voice, you’d have thought she was being serious. Hyewon just rolled her eyes, used to this daily slander she received simply for being in a relationship.

“I’ll make something for my little sister,” Chaewon butted in, and you and Yena simultaneously ‘aww’ed. 

“So it’s aww when Chaewon does it for her sister, and it’s vomit-inducing when I do it for my boyfriend?” Hyewon exclaimed, appalled.

“Little sisters are cute. Boyfriends are gross,” Yena replied matter-of-factly, making you giggle.

“Whatever. You guys are just jealous that you’re dying alone and I’m not. What are you making, Y/N?” she asked before Yena could retort again. The two exchanged a glare as you thought over your answer.

“I’m not saying,” you replied with a giggle. 

“She’s making one for Jake, that evil wench,” Chaewon immediately said, making your eyes widen. Yena gasped dramatically while Hyewon smiled at you.

“How did you know?” you asked Chaewon.

“Just your face. You’re so obvious,” she snickered. 

“You’re a traitor, Y/N!” Yena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at you, and you hid your face in your hands, muttering an apology. “Wasting time and energy on a boy.”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N. Whatever it is you make, he’ll be super happy you thought of him. Then he’ll finally ask you out and you’ll live happily ever after, just like me and Jaemin,” Hyewon said with a serene smile on her face. Chaewon and Yena exchanged a look, then faked a gagging sound. “So bitter,” Hyewon muttered, shaking her head at your friends.

“I’m not sure about that,” you sighed. “I just want to be friends again. He’s been ignoring me all week.”

All three snapped their heads up at you. “He’s been ignoring you?” Yena echoed, and you meekly nodded. “Give me his phone number. No, give me his address. I’m going there right now,” she said, already sitting up.

“Gosh, Yena, it’s fine,” you said, gesturing at her to sit back down, laughing at your friend’s seriousness. “I’ll see him on Monday anyway, I can just see how he behaves then.”

Yena didn’t look convinced, but she yielded anyway. “If he hurts you, I swear I’ll give him a stern talking to. And a broken nose.” You laughed as you thanked your friend. 

Hyewon asked for more details about this Jake situation, so you filled your friends in about his mysterious behavior that week. Chaewon had been the only one to see it firsthand, when you’d walked to a class together and Jake had walked past you without saying anything. You told them about his sparse answers to your texts, his lack of response to the TikToks you sent him. He wasn’t even reacting to your BeReals anymore. It was just such a complete switch-up in attitude that you had no idea what to make of it. They tried to come up with reasons for it, but it really didn’t make much sense. It just felt like he suddenly decided to hate you - or maybe you had been interpreting everything wrong, and the two of you had never been friends in the first place. 

“This is so confusing,” Chaewon suddenly said, seeming lost in thought. “I thought for sure that he liked you.”

“Liked… me?” you echoed.

“Yeah. Just the way he was when we were at the diner. He kept looking at you and was always smiling and blushing whenever you talked to him. Also the way Jay and Sunghoon were behaving. Boys are so obvious when their friend likes someone, it’s like they’re trying to fumble it for him. And I mean, anyone with functioning eyes can see that you like him too, so I don’t know why he’s doing this all of a sudden.”

Yena sighed. “Boys are stupid.”

“That, they are,” you agreed, sighing as well and returning your attention to your craft. Maybe a simple gift like this wouldn’t fix what was going on between you and Jake, but you had to at least try. You couldn’t let go of your friendship so easily.

Even though it seemed as though he could.

Nothing changed the next week. On Monday, you woke up to a text that pulled your heart down into your stomach.

jakey-poo i think we should stop tutoring each other for now

For an hour as you ate breakfast and got ready for school, you ruminated over your answer, only to ask him a simple why? in the end.

jakey-poo i’m to busy w soccer practice and other stuff we can start again when exams are near

you oh okay

You felt pathetic, but you had no idea what to say. You couldn’t force him into this, and you definitely couldn’t show up at his house and demand a better explanation. If you were Yena or Chaewon, maybe you could - but you weren’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him if the two of you could still hang out outside of that, so scared you were for his inevitable rejection.

During the week, you tried to find a time when you could give him your small handmade gift, but Jake wasn’t even looking you in the eyes anymore. The only time you made eye contact with him over those five days was on Wednesday at lunch - as you walked into the cafeteria, you scanned the whole room, unconsciously searching for him. When you did, he was already looking at you - he was close enough for you to see the slight frown in his eyebrows, the lack of the usual glint in his eyes. But as soon as he’d seen you’d found him, he turned away. You only looked away when Chaewon called out your name.

In the few classes you had together, he always slipped away before you could get to him. Him walking past you like he couldn’t even see you broke your heart a little bit more every time, and by Friday, you had completely given up. Your friendship with Jake was over, and you had no idea why, no idea who or what to blame.

Monday and Wednesday afternoons felt empty now that you had gotten used to spending them with him, and you couldn’t even walk Kiwi without missing him. He seemed to miss Jake and Layla too - he’d sometimes tilt his head at you as if asking where your new friends were, and when you got to the park, he’d gloomily stick to you instead of running around like he usually would, especially when Layla was there.

The worst part was at night, when your thoughts kept you up. You’d reread your and Jake’s text conversations, wondering what went so wrong so quickly, warm tears spilling from your eyes out of sadness and tiredness. On those nights, you’d sneak Kiwi up to your room and let him cuddle up to you in your bed. You’d comfort each other that way.

You had no idea that a couple kilometers away, Jake lay in bed sleepless as well, Layla at the edge of his bed and whining in her sleep. You had no idea that missing you had carved a deep hole in his chest.

—

Enough was enough.

It had been days since Layla had last seen Kiwi, and to a young pup like her, that felt like eternity. Lately, Jake hadn’t seemed happy to go on walks with her like he used to, and he barely had any energy to play with her. She also hadn’t seen you in days, and she wondered if that had anything to do with Jake’s recent despondency. 

But thankfully, Layla was a smart girl, so she knew exactly what to do to fix this dire situation. On Friday, she waited for Jake to come back from soccer practice and take her on a walk. As soon as they reached the sidewalk outside of their house, she pulled on her leash in the opposite direction of their usual route. Jake tried pulling her the other way, but she wouldn’t budge.

“We’re going that way, Layla,” Jake said, amused by his dog’s sudden stubbornness. Layla barked back. “Come on!” 

She was really not moving. “We never go that way,” Jake said, sighing. “That way’s the-”

That’s when he realized. Layla wanted to go to the park you went to with Kiwi. “But what if we ran into them?” Jake asked. 

Layla barked again. She wanted to say, That’s exactly why I want to go there, but of course Jake didn’t understand. He sighed again and obliged, letting Layla lead the way. She had a good feeling that she’d finally see her friends again today. 

Jake’s heart started beating faster with every step he took, knowing that you might be out right now, too. When he’d seen you at school, you’d seemed as sad as he was, and he felt terrible for perhaps being the reason behind it - but he didn’t know what else to do. He could either spare your feelings or his. If this was hurting you, he knew you’d move on quickly enough anyway - and when he came to terms with being just friends with you, he’d come back, and everything would be perfect like it used to be. Foolproof plan.

If there was one thing Jake had learned from the tutoring sessions with you, it was that the weather always reflected the protagonist’s inner thoughts. If they were upset, it would be gray and rainy - if they were happy, it would be warm and sunny. Jake glared at the sun, just another reminder that he wasn’t the main character in this story. If he was, it would be thundering and lightning would be striking.

As if his life was a joke, two minutes after Jake and Layla had walked into the park, he saw you. At least you were facing the other direction, so you couldn’t see him, and he could redirect his route to avoid you. But he let himself indulge in the moment for a few seconds. You had laid out a picnic blanket for you and Kiwi and rested on your stomach with your elbows propping you up, reading a book. Kiwi slept peacefully next to you - this dog was the furthest thing from a guard dog Jake had ever seen. You kicked your feet up in the air, flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket. Jake was happy to see you like this, enjoying the warmth of this sunny May afternoon. 

He was about to walk away, but a sudden movement caught his eye. Two school kids started running to you, and before you could even register their presence, one of them snatched your flip flops and they both sprinted away, shrieking with laughter like two little devils. Where the hell were their parents?!

Without thinking, Jake started running after them, and so did Kiwi and Layla. 

“Hey! Come back here!” Jake yelled, hoping in vain that these kids would listen to someone older than them. Kiwi did his best, but his tiny legs didn’t allow for such a chase - Layla, barking loudly at the thieves, was the first to reach them, and she managed to scare them so much, they tripped over their feet. But unlike them, she was well-behaved, so she sat once her job was done and waited for Jake to arrive. 

“What are you two doing? You can’t just steal other people’s things!” he admonished, holding onto his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Both kids were already teary-eyed. “We just wanted to play a prank, we’re sorry!” one of them quickly said, voice shaky.

“It’s not to me you should apologize, but to her,” Jake said, turning around to point in your direction. That’s when he noticed you sitting on your knees, hands covering your face as your shoulders trembled. “You made her cry!” Jake exclaimed, tone much angrier than seconds prior. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the kids by their shoulders and forcing them to keep up with his quick steps.

You didn’t notice their presence in front of you until Jake prompted them. At the sound of the all too familiar voice, you whipped your head up. Jake swore he heard his heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You barely heard the kids’ apology, so amazed you were at suddenly seeing Jake.

“We’re sorry for stealing your flip-flops and making you cry,” the first one said.

“Sorry,” repeated the other one, handing you your shoes.

“Oh, right. Thanks, just don’t do it again,” you replied, sniffing as you took back your shoes.

“We won’t!” they replied in unison before running away once more.

Jake stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure what to say. He watched you stare at your flip flops like you’d never seen them before in your life. “You’re not going to thank me for catching those delinquents?” he asked after a small while, chuckling slightly.

This made you look up at him. He gulped as your eyes met. Then, you burst into sobs again, and Jake started panicking. He crouched down to your level, first holding you by the shoulders then forcing your head out of your hands so he could wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“No no no, why are you crying, Y/N?” he asked softly, pulling you into a hug.

You continued crying into his shoulder, ignoring Kiwi and Layla’s confused stares. “You- you- I haven’t seen you in ages!” you exclaimed.

Jake sighed. He didn’t understand why you were crying like this for him, all he knew was that he’d never felt so awful. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, pulling your shaking body closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned back to glare at Jake, your bottom lip jutting out in discontent. “Do you even know how much I missed you?”

Jake held your head in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. Mouth agape in surprise, he looked at you with sad eyes. “You… you did?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Of course I did!” Another sob rippled through your body, and Jake took you back in his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders and resting his cheek against your hair. 

“I missed you too.”

“Then why did you do this?” you asked, voice breaking.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” Jake whispered back. “But I didn’t think I’d hurt you. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You leaned back again, but this time, you looked confused rather than angry. His eyes were soft as they scanned your face and as he brushed strands of your hair back behind your ears. “Why would you get hurt?” you asked again, bringing your voice to the same volume as his.

Jake sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if in pain, before opening them again and boring them into yours. “I like you so, so much Y/N. So much so that I don’t know what to do with myself. But I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I was scared that by staying by your side, I’d just fall in love with you even more and get hurt in the end. So I pushed you away because I didn’t know what else to do, but I’m so sorry I- You’re crying again?”

Your fists grabbed at the front of Jake’s t-shirt as sobs raked through your body once more. It was official - Jake was the stupidest person you’d ever met. And you were in love with him.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I like you too, you idiot!” you yelled back. Your tears were probably staining his t-shirt, but you couldn’t care less. He liked you. Jake liked you.

You were too busy crying to see Jake’s eyes slowly widening in disbelief. “You what?!”

Gently, Jake pushed your shoulders back so he could look at you. Even with puffy eyes and a runny nose, you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Pretty like an angel that had graced the Earth with her presence. “You what?” he repeated, just to hear you say it again.

“I like you, Jake. I’m so in love with you it's actually pathetic,” you said with a chuckle, looking down out of shyness. But when you looked back up, Jake’s eyes were going back and forth between yours, the expression on his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard but desperately hoped it was true.

As you locked eyes, both of your faces lit up with grins. You burst into laughter together, finding each other’s hands and intertwining your fingers together. Then Jake brought you back into his arms, holding tightly, as if he was scared you might disappear any second. Kiwi and Layla had long walked away to give the two of you some needed privacy.

In each other’s arms, you rocked side to side gently and laughed for no reason other than the incredible fact your feelings were reciprocated. “You stink, you know,” you suddenly said in-between giggles. “You sweat while you ran after those kids.”

“I sweat? You mean I swote, right?” Jake asked a pause.

You leaned back to look at Jake. “Swote?” you echoed, and he nodded. Your umpteenth smile made your cheeks lift. “You have to be kidding-”

“I am,” Jake cut off, mirroring your smile. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

You gasped and lightly punched his chest before letting your body fall against his again. “You’re so silly,” you said, sighing in bliss at the sound of his giggles.

Then all of a sudden, Jake pulled away and looked at you, almost frightened. “What about Sunghoon?” 

“What about him?” you asked back, confused by Jake’s question.

“I thought you- Didn’t you- you know…”

You tilted your head at Jake, a small grin spreading on your lips again. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you liked him…” Jake mumbled, looking away with a pout.

Before you could stop it, a noise of confusion left your throat. You looked at Jake like he was insane. “I can barely have a conversation with Sunghoon, what made you think I liked him?”

Jake pursed his lips and let a resigned puff of air out of his nose. “I, um- Remember when we mixed our backpacks up?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at the fun memory. “I may have, um, I may have read… your… diary,” he admitted, voice getting quieter with each word. He dared a glance at you - you looked horrified, eyes wide and mouth agape. “And you wrote that you liked Sunghoon,” he finished with a whisper.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Jake was bracing himself for a slap to the face or your screams, until you did the last thing Jake expected you to do - you laughed. You laughed so hard and for so long that he got scared you had gone insane and this was the first part of your mental breakdown before you murdered him in cold blood for having invaded your privacy. He would’ve deserved it, he thought.

“I don’t- oh my God, Jake, I don’t- I don’t like Sunghoon. I never really have, or not in the way you think, I can’t- oh my God,” you explained in between giggles, trying to catch your breath but starting to laugh again every time you managed to compose yourself. Jake tried to laugh along, but he was too confused to do so properly.

“You’re not mad?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head and the last giggles out of your throat. “You read it ages ago, and we didn’t even know each other back then, there’s no point in being mad now. It’s just funny - I know exactly why you think I liked Sunghoon, but I didn’t. Not really. And even if I did, those feelings are nothing compared to the ones I have for you now,” you said, beaming. A blush spread on Jake’s cheeks, and you could tell he was trying (and failing) to contain a proud grin.

You explained to Jake the ‘character’ thing you and your friends had going on and that Sunghoon (and hat guy) just happened to be one of them - you watched as Jake narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded, trying to understand this concept that was so foreign to him. 

“You know, it all makes a lot more sense now,” Jake said when you were explaining. “It would’ve been weird for you to like Sunghoon when I was right there.” He smirked down at you as you playfully rolled your eyes. 

“Oh my God!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Jake in the process. Dramatic as always, he put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly. “I have something for you. For us, actually.” You reached into your bag and got out the two accessories you’d made for you and Jake. “These are for us to put on our backpacks, so that we don’t confuse them again. They also match.”

Jake’s eyes were fixated on the string of beads as you placed into his palm. “I tried to give it to you over the week, but…” 

A teardrop fell into Jake’s palms, and when you looked at him, you realized he’d started crying. “Jake?” you cooed softly, and he sniffled, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

As a response, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I promise you’ll never go a second without my undivided attention from now on,” he said, voice shaking with emotion, and you hummed happily.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

He leaned back, and you were relieved to find the familiar puppyish grin on his lips. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed your head in his hands and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but when his face was back in front of yours, your eyes immediately drifted to his lips. They looked soft and plump and pink, and were utterly inviting. Every time you’d started daydreaming about kissing Jake, you’d stopped yourself, not wanting to over-indulge in your fantasies. But was this finally, really happening?

“Y/N?” Jake said quietly. You could swear his face was getting closer.

“Hm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your face broke out into a grin. Without warning, you pressed your lips against Jake’s - initially just for a peck, but as soon as you started pulling away, Jake chased after your lips and trapped them into a kiss, a proper one this time. You’d never done this before, so it was naturally somewhat clumsy, but you and Jake were so giddy with excitement that you couldn’t care less. So what if you were smiling so hard, your teeth clashed against his, or you kept bumping noses? You were kissing Jake Sim. 

The second time around, he let you pull away to catch your breath, and you wished you could photograph the sight in front of you - Jake with flushed cheeks, closed eyes and a serene smile on his face. He was so pretty, and now, he was all yours.

When he opens his eyes and finds you looking at him, his smile widens. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” you echoed, laughing. You pressed your lips to his cheek before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He hugged you to him and the sweet sound of his giggles filled your ears and your heart. “My girl,” he whispered, before leaning his head back, face to the sky, and screaming it loud enough for the whole park to hear. You tried to shush him, but you couldn’t stop laughing yourself out of sheer excitement. Layla and Kiwi came running back to you, barking happily and trying to lick your faces. 

“I cried so much today, my eyes are gonna be puffy tomorrow morning,” you said between giggles. 

Jake pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. “I’ll make sure you never cry again, Y/N,” he said, and he sounded so genuine, you almost wanted to cry again right then and there.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur - while you and Jake kissed, laughed, talked, and hugged, hours that felt like minutes passed you by. Jake kept on looking at the accessory you made him, poking fun at you for knowing his favorite color even though he’d never mentioned it.

“It was a lucky guess,” you grumbled. “Your room’s walls are that color,” you said, pointing to a particular dark blue bead.

“I love it,” he replied with a kiss to your forehead.

As always, he walks you home - and this time, you can take his hand without any hesitation. Your mom had come home from work while you and Jake were out, and you found her in the kitchen, prepping some veggies for dinner. 

As soon as Jake introduced himself, a flash of revelation struck her and she shot you a knowing smirk. “So you’re Jake,” she said, and the boy glanced at you with amused confusion. “That one over there has been badgering me about you these past few weeks.”

Apparently, you agreeing to be his girlfriend had already gone to his head, because instead of looking surprised at your mom’s words, he slowly turned to you with an arrogant smirk gracing his lips. “Has she?”

Your mom nodded slowly. “Oh, yes.” Then her expression slowly morphed into something else as she remembered your red, puffy eyes from the other evening when you’d told her about what was going on with Jake. She raised her kitchen knife and pointed it straight to him, eyes narrowed. “If you ever hurt my daughter again, I’m putting you in the lasagna, young man.”

Jake gulped, smirk completely wiped off of his face. You just watched in amusement. “I- I won’t,” he stuttered, eyes fixed on the blade of the knife.

A wide grin reappeared on your mom’s face as she went back to cutting the vegetables. “Good!” 

Jake looked at you for some sort of explanation, but you simply shrugged. He’d just have to get used to your mom’s crazy. 

“You know, you’re just as handsome as she described,” your mom told Jake with a wink.

“Mom, please!” you exclaimed, cheeks burning with heat. You liked it better when she was threatening your boyfriend with a knife, but he was relieved by the new turn this conversation had taken.

“What else has she said?”

“Oh, you know, just your typical he’s so smart, he’s so cute, he’s so funny-”

“Okay, that’s it!” you cut in before your mom could spill more on you. You ignored Jake’s noises of complaint as you grabbed him by the shoulders and led him towards the door. “I think it’s time for you to go home, no?” 

“Y/N, come on!” Jake whined, giggling. 

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Jake?” your mom offered, making you stop in your tracks. You stared wide-eyed at her but she just looked at Jake, wearing an inviting smile.

“Sure!” Jake beamed. “I just need to call my mom.”

“Oh, invite her along! I always make enough to feed an army, anyway.”

“Really?” Jake asked, incredulous. Since his brother had left for university, it had always been just he and his mom at the dinner table. The thought of sharing a meal with you and your mom filled his heart with warmth. 

“Yeah!”

Jake smiled giddily as he got his phone out. “Thanks, she’ll be stoked.”

Although you both wanted to help your mom, she urged you to stay outside with the dogs and enjoy the last rays of sunshine of the day, insisting she didn’t need any help. So you and Jake spent some time throwing sticks for Kiwi and Layla and giggling at their cuteness. Kiwi quickly got exhausted and came to lie down at your feet, but Layla was tireless. “Your dog, your responsibility,” you said as you sat down next to Kiwi, rubbing his tummy and watching Jake throw the stick over and over again for Layla.

Jake was as relentless as Layla, and every time she ran after the stick, he ran to you and pressed a kiss to another part of your face, making you giggle every time. Once on your forehead, once on your nose, once on your cheek, then the other, and once on your lips.

Then his mom rang the bell, and as your mom opened the door for her, the oddest thing happened - they called out each other’s name and hugged as if they were old friends. You and Jake exchanged a confused look before turning your attention back to them.

“What a coincidence!”

“Right! Such a small world, I can’t believe you’re my daughter’s boyfriend’s mom.”

“Boyfriend? Gosh, has he finally asked her out? I was going crazy seeing him moping around in his room!”

“Mom!” Jake yelled, face already reddening as you burst into laughter.

You joined them inside the house and set the table while your mom finished up dinner. Jake’s mom had brought a bottle of red wine as a gift, so she poured two glasses for her and your mom, but you and Jake stuck to Sprite. 

Apparently, they knew each other from some yoga class they both went to every Sunday - you found out this was the woman your mom often went out for lunch or drinks with. They were so excited to meet each other like this that they talked most of the time, leaving you and Jake to eat your food quietly and giggling every time you made eye contact or your feet touched under the table. 

Just as you were about to take your last bite of lasagna, your phone pinged with a message. Curiously, so did Jake’s. Chaewon had sent a message into the group chat, asking to meet her at work when her shift was done because she was craving an Oreo milkshake.

chae bae y/n u better come ik ur not doing anything better tonight anyway

You scoffed. You were doing something better.

“Shit, today’s Friday! The boys are waiting for me at the diner, I completely forgot,” Jake exclaimed as he read the messages on his phone.

“Language, Jake,” his mom scolded.

“At the diner?” you repeated.

“Yeah, that one we went to last time. Why?” Jake asked when he noticed your surprised expression.

“That’s where Chaewon wants to meet.”

You both turned to your respective moms, silently asking for permission to leave the dinner table.

“Just go,” your mother said with a smile.

“I’ll take Layla home later,” Jake’s mom added.

You thanked them before rushing to get a bag and heading to the bus stop, hoping a bus would come by soon. Twenty minutes later, you were opening the doors of the diner and looking around for your friends, who were nowhere to be found. You were fishing your phone out of your pocket to call Chaewon when a familiar voice caught your and Jake’s attention.

“What are they doing together?” you heard Jay say, followed by loud shushes. You turned your head to find all five of your friends (plus Jaemin) crammed in a booth in the corner that was somewhat hidden from the rest of the restaurant. But they were trying so hard to be discreet that it made their presence even more obvious - they hid their faces with their hands as if that would make them disappear from your view. You and Jake shared a look before chuckling, shaking your head at your friends.

“Whatever, they’ve clearly found us,” Jay sighed and exited the booth, walking towards the two of you.

“Were you guys trying to get us to make up or something?” Jake asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah, we grouped up and planned this whole thing. It was a real team effort.”

“It might’ve worked better if you hadn’t all stayed here, you guys were so obvious,” you chided.

“Tell that to your friends over there! They insisted on watching it unfold,” Jay grumbled, and you looked behind him to see your friends frantically waving at you.

You switched to a bigger booth that could accommodate all seven of you, and as soon as you’d placed your orders, Yena practically pounced on you, demanding an explanation as to how the two of you were already made up.

You turned to look at Jake and smiled at him before answering. “It’s all thanks to Kiwi, really,” you told Yena.

“Kiwi? As in your dog Kiwi?” Chaewon asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Mh-hm.” In your peripheral, you noticed Jake tilting his head at you.

“You mean Layla, right?”

You imitated his head movement. “No, I mean Kiwi.”

“But Layla made me go to the park today. I wouldn’t have gone there if it wasn’t for her,” Jake insisted, giving you an are you being serious look that you mirrored.

“I wasn’t going to go outside at all but Kiwi kept bugging me to take him on a walk, that’s why I was in the park in the first place. It’s thanks to Kiwi,” you repeated.

“It’s thanks to Layla,” Jake retorted, playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

“Trouble in paradise,” Jaemin whispered, and Hyewon slapped his arm.

The whole table was silent as you and Jake stared each other down, waiting to see who would cave first. It was like everyone could breathe again when Jake’s face broke out into a grin and he rested his arm behind your shoulders. “Okay, it’s thanks to Kiwi,” he conceded, making you hum in satisfaction. You rested your head on his shoulder and ignored Yena’s groan of disgust at the PDA.

But Jake, as always, wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. “And Layla.”

—

02.06.202X - 12:18

rodrigo hater y/n i can see you being gross from across the courtyard can u guys not feed each other ur still on school grounds and ur ruining my day have some decency

sweet hyewon you guys are super cute <3  jaemin and i only have the same lunch period once a week i miss him

rodrigo hater ugh wheres chaewon she’d have my back

you hyewon love u yena frigg off you’re not going to like this… i think she’s with sunghoon rodrigo hater WHAT

sweet hyewon omg hahahaha saw it coming cuuuuute

rodrigo hater i hate you all so much you’re all kicked out of my celibacy club

chae bae we weren’t part of it in the first place

rodrigo hater GO AWAY YOU TRAITOR

03.06.202X - 09:15

you jake wake up  wake up wake up please

jake ??? R U okay?

you kiwi keeps whining i think he wants to see layla come over?

jake . did u just wake me up before 10 am on a sunday morning for this

you i made pancakes?

jake i’m going back to sleep

you but i miss you :(

jake running

07.06.202X - 16:39

stink #1 hey

jake no

stink #1 wtf man

jake im busy

stink #1 smooching ur girl?

jake yeah stay mad bro

stink #1 where’s hoon

stink #2 he’s at ice skating practice with me <3 this is chaewon btw

jake AYO????

stink #1 HE GAVE YOU ACCESS TO HIS PHONE???

stink #2 hehehe bye losers

stink #1 oh my god jake this is huge

jake right… our little boy he’s grown so much

stink #1 i’m getting teary eyed anyway i wanted to say i think we should invite the girls to bro night more often it’s always fun with them

jake oh? if u wanna see yena just say so bro

stink #1 fuck u man

jake ur literally so obvious you get 100% more obnoxious when she’s around

stink #1 idc she laughs at my jokes

jake which is proof that there’s something wrong w her anyway i’ll ask my girl about it

stink #1 ew and thx ^^

09.06.202X - 17:03

jakey-poo y/nnnnnn y/n hellloooooo y/n y/n y/n baby :(((( where are u what r u doing i miss you hello y/n my baby darling angel pls answer me layla misses you

you jake sim

jakey-poo HIIIIII

you jay is a genius i’m anime pomodoroing the hell out of this essay it’s working so well i’m almost done with it already

jakey-poo don’t compliment another man ever again i’m going to cry

you but jay’s your friend

jakey-poo i’ll kill him if i have to

you gosh okay jay’s an idiot

jakey-poo hahaha he is ice cream after dinner ???

you duh

31.07.202X - 21:03

jakey-poo i’m waiting for you outside the theater baby we have a lot of talking to do. i can’t believe you kissed someone else in front of me

you jake baby it was just acting <3 you know you’re the only one i really kiss

jakey-poo i know i am so come here and kiss me quick you did so well and you were so pretty on stage and i love you so much  COME QUICK I WANNA KISS YOU

you i’m hurrying i promise but a lot of people are trying to talk to me :(

jakey-poo ofc they are you killed it my baby’s already famous <3

you hehe love you my jakey-poo

jakey-poo STOP IT WITH THAT

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

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs always appreciated!

[nubiawrites]

chapter 3

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. Kissing. Thigh riding. Dry humping. 18+

Summary: Upon finding that the development process of her script moving along, Iriye gets more than one greenlight when Aaron and her go over the script.

Notes: Remember how I said this was a slowburn? It still is but you get a little treat for being patient. If you want to be tagged to be notified, like, reblog or reply to this. Let me know what you think!

MASTERLIST

It had been a trying three weeks, waiting to hear what the studio would say about the latest draft. But Iriye was more worried about what the woman in front of her thought than a bunch of studio execs.

Iriye paced a little as she watched Tamara read the last few pages of the latest draft of the script. For as long as the two had known each other, her friend still reading anything of hers filled her with nerves, excitement, and wonder. Not out of fear but knowing that whatever she wrote was safe with her friend. 

“How do you do it?” Tamara asks, putting the pages down. Iriye smiled at her, shaking her head.

“You’re flattering me too much,” Iriye took a sip of her water, her friend moving to sit up.

“It’s never too much flattering when it comes to you. As someone who remembers the short film scripts you were begging your professor to accept when you had the chance to write anything, I have always known how talented you were and how you would keep growing in that,” Tamara spoke into Iriye. “You are magic. You’re that girl,”

Iriye giggled. “Okay, I believe you. But tell me again, one time for the one time,” She joked. Tamara shook her head. 

“You’re an alien superstar. Especially after all those notes those white people gave,” Tamara shook her head. “That’s two hours of my life I will never get back. Two hours I could have spent looking at self-tapes for actresses,”

“With great power comes great responsibility. RIP Uncle Ben,” Iriye chuckled.

Tamara chuckled just as Nelly came into the office, practically bubbling with excitement.

“We got it!” Nelly practically screamed. “Did you check your email?”

Iriye pulled up her phone and braced herself as she clicked, seeing an email from Davis.

“The execs are very impressed with this draft. We’re sending it over to talent,” Iriye read aloud, the biggest smile taking over her face.

“We going to Hollywood, y’all!” Nelly yelled out. “Let me get the bottle of champagne we’ve been saving,”

“Not so fast! We’re not greenlit yet,” Tamara pointed out before Nelly could run to their mini fridge.

“And you’re not allowed to pop any more bottles within a twelve-foot radius of us. I’m almost lost an eye,” Iriye reminded. “But did you lose one?” Nelly said. “If I can’t do that, what can I do?” 

“You want to send over the script through the studio system to Aaron,” Iriye asked. “I know you love any interaction you can have with him,” She teased.

“You say that like I’m not passing notes between you and him,” Nelly admitted.

“Passing notes?” Tamara chuckled. “I need to hear more,”

Iriye rolled her eyes before settling back on the sofa in Tamara’s office.

“You want the truth or what I'm reading between the lines,” Nelly sat beside Iriye, sending her a playful side-eye.

“Anything you have to say for yourself, Iriye?” Tamara asked. Nelly pretended to hold a mic toward Iriye before the latter swatted it out of her face.

“It’s nothing! He asked for my number when we had lunch,” Iriye mumbled.

“You guys had lunch together? Where the hell was I?” Tamara asked. 

“Having lunch with some film bro,” Nelly shot out. “What? I manage your calendar,”

“It was just the both of us discussing film stuff. He wants to work with us,” Iriye shrugged. “It was friendly but professional. Trust me,”

“Then why did he say in his email to call any time?” Nelly mentioned. “I think you two forgot I was cc’ed on that email,” 

Iriye shook her head. “I’ll go send that script,” she said, trying to leave, but Nelly pulled her back down to sit.

“Aaron is fine. You can admit that right,” Nelly asked.

“She can. She's just trying to be professional,” Tamara chuckled.

“Aaron is handsome. There, I said it,” Iriye huffed, seeing the twinkle in the two other women’s eyes. “And he smells good, too,” She said before she rushed out of the office. Hopefully, that would tire them over, even if she heard Nelly’s calling out the word bitch.

After calling it a short day at the office, Iriye had gone home and spent the rest of her afternoon vibing to music as she looked over other scripts she had put on hold when tackling the feature Lanoire Productions wanted to take on first with their deal. Paradise Lost. A black rom-com with influences of the nineties and two thousand films that bonded Tamra and herself into a sisterhood. It wasn’t a dream deferred any longer. 

Just as Iriye was laughing at a line she wrote in a pilot, her phone began ringing. She looked over to see an unknown number appeared on her screen. Lowering her music, she hit the talk button, preparing to tell them they had the wrong number.

“Hello?” Iriye asked, holding the phone to her ear.

“I’m guessing you didn’t save my number,” Aaron spoke through the phone, his voice running over Iriye like scotch.

“I swore I did,” Iriye lied. She had been distracted, her brain trying to come up with excuses. “Are you calling to give me shit about it?” A deep chuckle rolled through Aaron’s chest, sitting in the seat in his trailer. “I come in peace as I always have. I got the script, and I wanted to see if I could come over to the production office to talk to you about it,”

“Too bad I’m not in the office,” Iriye admitted. “I gave myself the rest of the day off,”

“Good for you,” Aaron stated. “Since I got the script, the execs are ready to go. You should be proud,”

“I am. Thank you,” She said. “But I can’t celebrate until they give us the green light, which means attaching some talent. And from what I’ve heard, you got some competition,”

“Competition? If you don’t want me, say that,” Aaron stated.

“Boy, stop,” Iriye let out. His chuckle rang through the phone. “Shouldn’t you be shooting something right now,”

“Lucky for you, I wrapped for the day,” Aaron said. “I’m about to pack up and head out,”

“Lucky for me?” Iriye rolled her eyes at this man. “How so?”

“Well, I wanted to talk more about the script. I read it during lunch, and I wanted to discuss it some more,” 

Iriye sat up, moving her laptop off of her lap. “You read it during lunch? You must have had a long lunch,”

“I’m a quick reader when something captivates me,” Aaron admitted. “I want to discuss this more because I have so many questions. Maybe I can pick your brain over dinner if you’re up for it,” He asked as he smoothed out his pants leg and waited for her to say something.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m already lounging around. I don’t think I can get myself together to go out,” 

“Then I’ll come to you,” Iriye chuckled at Aaron’s words. “Send your address. I’ll pick something up and bring it over,”

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed, looking at her place. 

“Have you eaten?”

“No,” Iriye admitted.

“Send me your address. And if you have any allergies,”

“I don’t,” Iriye bit her lip. “Check your phone. And honestly, please do not bring anything healthy. I earned it today,”

“Got it, Miss Edwards,” Aaron spoke, his deep voice making Iriye’s stomach nervous. She said goodbye and hung up, her head falling to the back of the couch. 

“What the hell,” Iriye spoke aloud. She moved to get up, figuring he would be here within the hour. Iriye wasn’t playing when she said she had been lounging around, wearing booty shorts, no bra, and a baggy shirt. 

Iriye went to her room and stripped her clothes to change into high-waisted jeans and a concert t-shirt, tucking it into her jeans to make A Victoria Monet concert t-shirt look more hip.

She went to her bathroom, pulling her goddess locs out of her ponytail. She shook her locs out and grabbed her makeup bag, looking in the mirror.  If her mother could see her now, trying to make herself up for some man she hardly knew… she would at least be proud.

Iriye put on some mascara, forgoing foundation because she wasn’t about to do all that for an hour with Aaron. They were going to eat—that was all—eat and talk. She found a lip gloss that was not too much and swiped it on her lips.

She looked at her reflection; her brown skin still looked good from the skincare routine she did earlier after she watched her face. She looked at her foundation; Fenty-four twenty would have to wait.

Iriye quickly swept her place to make sure it looked good, stacking books she had strewn around and fluffing the throw pillows. As she moved to put her shoes on the shoe rack, she nearly tripped over them.

After more nervous tidying up, she went to the little bar cart in her kitchen and decided she needed a shot of something strong to quell the nerves. She grabbed a glass and poured a shot. 

It was a matter of time before there was a knock at her door, and she headed to the door, shaking the nerves out, and opened it. 

“Hey,” Iriye breathed, seeing Aaron standing in her doorway, hoodie and glasses on. He had to lean down some to come into her doorway. 

“Hey,” Aaron put his backpack down, and Iriye took the two takeout bags from him. “I got Chinese. It felt like a safe bet,”

“You made a good choice, Mister Pierre. You might earn that conversation about Paradise Lost after all,”

Iriye placed the bags on her coffee table, trying not to watch as he turned to take his shoes off, his ass hugged nicely by his khaki pants.

I am no better than a man. Iriye headed to the kitchen to grab some forks and plates. When she returned, she saw Aaron pulling out all the take-out containers, so she moved to sit by him.

“Is this all for me?” Iriye joked.

“For us. I didn’t know what you wanted or liked,” Aaron stated. A genuine smile came over her face as she looked at him.

Once they finished their feast, Aaron pulled the script and a journal out as Iriye moved the take-out containers out of the way. 

“I hope you know you’re not getting any of that kung pao chicken leftovers to take home,” She muttered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” He stated, and Iriye had to ignore the nerves he was causing. Aaron opened his journal as Iriye returned and peeked to see what he had written.

“That’s a lot of notes,” Iriye chuckled. He let her see more of it, and she caught a whiff of cologne again, clearing her throat. He looked over at her, his greyish-green eyes bright and beautiful. “Okay, hit me with it,”

“Isaiah is probably the most raw character I have ever read in a script before,” Aaron started. “His passion. His being. Everything about him… I was hooked within the first few pages. But by the end of Act One, I was rooting for him,”

As he spoke, Iriye was caught in his words about how he could grasp the character entirely. It was hard enough to focus on his actual words when she noticed how sharp his jaw was or the veins on his hands. 

“But this character… he’s so lived in. So real. You really outdid yourself, Iriye,” Aaron praised.

“Thank you,” Iriye felt the wall she was desperately trying to keep up with him coming down a little. But she needed to put some space between them. “You want a drink?” Aaron relaxed back on the couch as she moved away from him.

“Yes, I’ll take whatever you’re drinking,” Aaron said.

Iriye headed to her bar cart and began making them a whiskey sour, feeling like she could kill even more nerves with liquid courage, especially if he were going to seduce her with how insightful he was in talking about Eric and the story of Paradise Lost.

Iriye brought back their drinks, and Aaron thanked her as he took his drink.

“Cheers to you and this getting greenlit,” Aaron held his glass up to hers. She tapped her glass to his and took a sip; the liquor burned, making it slip easily down her throat. 

“Like I told Nelly, we’re not greenlit until talent gets attached, and the execs are cool with it,” Iriye explained. 

“You’ve been saying that for weeks. It’s going to happen, Iriye. I always keep my word,”

Iriye just shook her head at Aaron’s words, watching him take another sip and lick the liquor off his lower lip.

“Can I admit something?” Iriye asked. He nodded. “I went down a rabbit hole of your previous roles,”

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting that,”

“Neither was I, but if anything, Nelly is to blame,” Iriye pointed out. Aaron chuckled. “She sent me a clip from Foe, and I have Prime, so I decided to watch it,” He nodded along, listening to her. “That’s the only one I watched. I didn’t want to get you even more stuck in my head,”

“Can I admit something?” Aaron responded. “Nelly sent me the short films you and Tamara have made. I wanted to know more. So she sent me a few,”

“Of course she did,”

“Nelly is always at the scene of the crime,” Aaron chuckled, Iriye joining in. “But I can tell why she is so passionate for Lanoire. For Tamara. For you. You’re an artist. You care about your work. It’s breathtaking to me. You’re breathtaking to me,”

“Breathtaking on paper. We gotta see it on film now,”

“You will. I already told my team I want to sign on for Paradise Lost,” Aaron stated. 

“Stop playing,” Iriye shook her head, taking another sip of her drink.

“I’m serious, Iriye,” He replied.

Iriye blinked twice at Aaron, looking at her with a slight smirk on his face. His smile grew as Iriye realized he wasn’t joking. She downed the rest of her drink and stood up, needing to pace and calm down.

“You good?” Aaron watched in concern.

Iriye just continued pacing as she heard his words. 

“No, not really,” Iriye stated. Aaron got up and moved to her, stopping her so she could face him. He saw her deep brown eyes, a sense of fear running through them as he moved to cup her cheek, her so aware of his rough hands on her cheeks. “What are you getting out of this?”

“A chance to bring something beautiful you created to life. The script is something I’ve never gotten to do before. To be a part of that would be an honor,” Aaron said, his thumbs stroking her cheeks softly, and she felt herself calming down.

“You’re nothing like I expected,” Iriye closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and smelling his cologne invading her senses.

“Good,” Aaron tilted her head. Iriye opened her eyes, seeing him staring her down intensely. She was so drawn to him as he surrounded her senses.

Iriye saw the thought flicker across Aaron’s eyes as he looked down at her lips and felt him lean close to her. His head touched hers, her hands traveling up his arms to grasp him.

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed and he pulled her close. “We shouldn’t,”

“We shouldn’t what?” Aaron repeated, tempting her to say it. 

“This… We can’t do this,” Iriye trailed her hands to his on her cheeks. She was trying to find the urge to pull away, but it went all out of the window as he was warm and present with her.

“What’s stopping you?” Aaron brushed his nose against hers softly. “Give me three good reasons,”

“One, you’re tipsy,” Iriye pointed out.

“I only took one sip,” Aaron said, one of his thumbs slowly reaching her chin.

“Two, we don’t know each other well,” Iriye stated, not even caring if his thumb traced over her bottom lip.

“I want to get to know you. I’ve been showing it for the past couple of weeks,” Aaron reminded her. With every email and chance, he had to chat with her. 

Iriye had to keep a clear mind, but it was hard when he was so close to her. Her hands trailed down to his side, resting there to try and focus herself.

“Three, we’re going to be working together now. So, it would be completely unprofessional. A total conflict of interest,” Iriye was trying to stay firm in her decision, but it was going out the window as he pulled her closer. Her body was pressing against all the sinewy muscles that made Aaron.

“It would be wrong,” Aaron nodded. “Does this feel wrong?” He pulled back, his hands moving from her face to her waist, where they stayed politely, brushing against the little sliver of skin between her shirt and jeans.

Iriye was ready to say fuck it so badly. He hadn’t kissed her, frustrating her as much as it turned her on.

“No,” Iriye admitted.

“As much as I want you to kiss me first,” Aaron’s hands went to squeeze the softness of her sides. “I don’t want to compromise your resolve. So if this helps,” He leaned down, and those full bow-shaped lips pressed softly against hers.

Iriye was shocked. How could he be so tender, his lips pressing softly against hers? He was waiting for a reaction because he got one from her. She kissed him back.

The softness that was shared between them was beginning to become intoxicating. Aaron trailed his hands up her arms and placed them around his neck. The movement had her breast pressing against his hard chest, and though she wasn’t trying to make it sexual, a sensual whimper escaped her.

To her surprise, Aaron pulled away first. He took a deep breath as Iriye realized she was in a daze, her arms around his neck. She was about to unwrap herself from him when he stopped her.

“No,” Aaron breathed, the command light on his tongue. He pulled them back to the couch, moving to sit. He pulled his hands off of her body to take his glasses off, setting them on the coffee table. But Aaron again placed his hands on her hips, looking up at her. The hues of his eyes darkened with lust, and she liked it. Liked him having to look up at her from her seated position.

“What do you want right now, Iriye?” He asked her. Talking was too much for Iriye. She needed to show. She let her legs slip between his as he sat on the couch, straddling his thigh some before leaning down. She used one hand to hold onto the back of the couch while the other hand trailed over the nape of Aaron’s neck. She softly dragged her nails and heard a groan vibrate through his chest. “I’m going at your pace,”

“I want… if I do what I want right now, we’re going down a road we can’t come back from,” Iriye whispered. “But I want to. I really want-” Before she could even say another word, Aaron took control and pulled her down till her jean-covered core hit his thigh. “Aaron,” She gasped.

“We’re already here. Trust me, I don’t think I wanna go back now,” Aaron stated. Iriye raised an eyebrow at him. “Take what you want from me,”

Iriye swallowed as she settled onto his thigh. His thigh was muscular and pressing against the seam just right. She gave an experimental rock of her hips, a breathy gasp coming out as Aaron held her hips still in his hands. She felt a bit uncoordinated as she still had one leg pressing between his crotch while the other was on the couch. She paused for a moment, pulling back before she properly straddled him.

“Is this okay?” Iriye let her weight rest on Aaron, and he let out a groan as her center met his. God, it shook her to the core.

“Yeah, much better,” His British accent became more assertive in his voice with those words. Iriye watched him as she rolled her hips forward, seeing the breathy groan he let out. She discovered he was vocal quickly as she began a pace, moving her hips deliberately to see what sounds he made.

When Iriye knew she was doing something right as she ground on Aaron, his hands would flex or grasp her hips.

“Stay right there,” Aaron begged. Her face was pressed against his temple as she ground, the pressure delicious as it caught her clit, and she felt her core growing wet.

“Yes,” Iriye whimpered. His right hand trailed up to cup her ass cheek, and she looked at him shocked. He pushed his hips up against her as he pulled her down onto his throbbing bulge through his khakis.

Iriye had to suppress the cry that left her lips by kissing him, and the two of them began to move their hips in sync, their kisses matching just as close. Her hands moved to cup his neck and cheeks as she worked with him to dry hump him. But there was nothing remotely dry on her side.

Aaron licked the seam of her lips, and Iriye gave him entrance, his tongue licking the roof of her mouth. 

“Shit,” Iriye moaned into his mouth. That movement alone made her wonder what it would feel like to have him doing that to her lower set of lips. He pulled away with a grin.

“It feels good, doesn’t it,” Aaron trailed his lips down her chin and neck. She nodded, letting her nails dig slightly into the nape of his neck. She felt him retaliate with a nip to her neck and her breast pressed into his chest, nipples starting to strain her bra. “God, this isn’t even enough,”

“I know,” Iriye moaned, riding Aaron a little faster as she wanted to chase the feeling deep inside her. One that would quell her momentarily with a release. Aaron kept up with her pace, cupping her ass cheek harder as he moved her more.

“You’re right there, aren’t you?”Aaron grunted against her neck. Iriye nodded. “Take it. I know you want to. Use me,” He leaned back, studying her face. He wanted to take in every sign of her impending pleasure. Seeing he was serious, Iriye rolled her hips even faster. 

Aaron’s moans and groans just served to turn Iriye on even more, especially feeling his bulge against her core. She rode him harder, her clit catching on the inseam of her jeans, and she pressed her head into his neck as she felt the telltale signs. She was close and about to cum in her jeans from dry humping. As immature as it probably was, this was the hottest thing to happen with the opposite sex and her in a while.

“Just like that, Iriye,” Aaron groaned. 

“Aaron…” Aaron gripped Iriye’s ass harder and whined. It took him lifting and gripping her ass so close to her core, causing her to cry out, her body shaking as she came. She didn’t even have time to cry out fully as Aaron pressed his lips against hers and ate up every single whimper and moan. She was sensitive, but he helped her by keeping moving till the waves subsided and the tingle in her stomach subsided.

Iriye felt the kisses Aaron and her share become pecks and his length hard against his pants. 

“Fuck,” Iriye said as she realized he didn’t get off. “I didn’t mean to be selfish,”

“I wanted you too,” Aaron said, his voice deep and strained. She kissed him again before hiding her face on his shoulder.

As the haze of lust came down from her, Iriye had to ask her: What the hell did I just do?

@bluewatersfairy @coquitobby @honeysilkandcinnamon @insaneevanity @meleekabenjamin @theogbadbitch @slowlysteadycoffee @ashanti-notthesinger @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @mysticalbiscuitalien3 @irishmanwhore @alonahh @grooveoftiro @gabriellalover @ovohanna24 @ticalsstallion @strawberrymoon45 @hi888888sworld @msuncensered @yurfavdealer @honeys-archives @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @niggaronnn @aritannahrocks1300 @htnqueen305 @333symone @appelle-moi-si-tu-te-perds-numb6 @bombshellbre95 @wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

I don’t know if you’re still doing asks 👉🏻👈🏻 but if you are what about Pedro and reader being FWB and he falls for her but he’s scared to tell her?

Hi, nonny, idk if you're still out there or if you gave up on me ever answering this. If you did, I totally understand. I'm sorry it's been one hell of a year. I lost my dad 5 days after my birthday and my stepmom 3 weeks after that. So I've been kinda out of it writing wise.

All that to say: I got your request. I loved it, and I finished it. So here it is. If you're the anon who sent this, thank you, because you got me writing again. If you know who the anon is, please let them know.

Anyway here you go...

More than Friends (With Benefits)

Pedro Pascal X Reader

(no warnings)(Also reblogs and comments are more than welcome and requests too☺️)

As he felt the sun hit his face, he shook his head with a small frown, his eyes still closed tight wanting to get just a few more precious seconds of sleep. It was no good, he was awake. He sat up, and with a small groan, he stretched and then let out a loud yawn. As his mouth stretched open wider, he glanced to his right. His yawn turned into a soft smile as he took in the sight of the woman next to him. The morning sun shining on your skin.

You shifted, feeling his glance on your sleeping form. Without opening your eyes you said “And what exactly are you staring at, Pedro?”

You heard his soft chuckle that made you open your eyes. 

“Just the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You huffed at that and rolled your eyes at his compliment but you smiled all the same. 

“See you say that,” you said, sitting up and stretching. “But it makes me wonder if you need to get your eyes checked.”

He chuckled again. “And why do you say that? My eyesight is fine.”

You pointed to the matted hair on the side of your head, then you rubbed your eyes. “Dude, I look a mess when I wake up. The hair, the eye boogers…”

“The drool,” he added, his smile growing.

You giggled. “Yeah that too.” You wiped your mouth just in case.

You stretched again then pulled the covers back and hopped out of bed, going over to your dresser you picked up a brush and started untangling your hair, humming softly to yourself. The whole time, Pedro didn't take his eyes off you with a smile still on his lips. You looked into the mirror and saw him looking at you. You didn't say anything, you were used to this, he had been doing that a lot more often, staring at you. Once your hair was somewhat presentable, you turned to him. 

“So, um, breakfast or do you have to go?” he asked.

You went over and checked the time on your phone. 10:36, you couldn’t, although you wanted to. It was Saturday, you had some errands to run, then you had promised a friend of yours that you'd help her put together some furniture she'd ordered.

“I'd love to, but I can't. I'm sorry,” you said and looked it as well. “I got a full day: errands and then I gotta help Selina out putting together some stuff she ordered… umm maybe tomorrow?”

He still smiled but you could see something in his eyes. Disappointment? Sadness? You couldn't really tell. But he nodded and said “Okay, I'll see you later then.”

“Okay,” you agreed as you grabbed your clothes off the floor and hastily dressed. You'd take a shower when you got home, like you normally did.

He followed you to the door and watched as you walked to your car, giving you a wave as you drove off. He sighed and stepped back in his place, looking around a little sadly. He wished, for not the first time, that you would stay a little longer, hell, he wished that you would move in with him and stay with him forever. 

He had come so close to asking you over the time you two had been seeing each other; well, not exactly “seeing” each other. What would you call it when you didn’t really go out on dates, but slept together frequently? Friends with benefits? Ugh, he didn’t like that, he liked you, he wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to mess up what you had, being around you, spending what little time together you did was the highlight of his days. 

~~~~~~~

He had brought it up about six months into you two “seeing” each other. You were laying in bed together, legs intertwined, just talking and joking around. He had looked down at your laughing face, you were giggling at some corny joke of his, normally people would groan at his bad jokes, but you, you laughed, a genuine laugh at that. He loved the way that your smile lit up your face, the sound of your laugh was musical, he even loved it when you let  out a snort when you laughed really hard. It sent his heart pounding and his stomach seemed to fill with butterflies. He hadn’t felt like that in years.

“So,” he started after your giggle fit had subsided somewhat,

“So what?”  you asked.

“So um I was thinking that maybe we could um grab dinner later or something?”

You thought for a second. “Yeah we can order something in.” You reached over and picked up your phone. “I’m thinking maybe Thai, but I heard that Indian place over on Third had some of the best butter chicken. Selina was telling me the other day…” You had stopped upon seeing a slight frown on his face. “What’s up? What’s that look for.?”

“Oh, I was thinking that we could actually go out instead of ordering in,” he had said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh umm.” You had gotten quiet. 

“I-I mean if you can’t today then…” he had started.

“It-it’s just that I don’t have anything to wear over here and I…”

“It’s fine you could go home and change and I’ll come pick you up.” He had looked hopefully at this suggestion.

“Umm well I have a lot of work to do and I don’t think I-I really can. Not today at least.” 

He just nodded. “Okay, no, no, I understand.”

“Cool, cool.” You had thrown the comforter off your legs and you had started scooting towards the end of the bed. “Well, um,” you cleared your throat. “With that maybe I should head out.”

“Yeah, no, yeah, that’s fine,” he had said as he watched you collect your clothes and head out.

“I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he had mumbled as he watched you walk out. Once he had heard his front door close, he lay back on his pillows with a groan.

~~~~~~~

Pedro shook his head at the memory and went into his kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t quite understand it, every time he brought up going out or spending time outside of his place or yours, you got jumpy and would always come up with excuses as to why you couldn’t. Did you not like him as much as he liked you? He scoffed at that thought, it made him seem like some kid in junior high who didn’t know if his crush liked him. But that’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it?

He took his mug full of coffee and sat down at his table, pulling a book he had been reading towards himself and flipped it open and tried to focus on something else.

But after a while, he gave up. He just kept reading the same paragraph over and over, not taking in a single word. He put the book aside with a sigh and got up to take a shower. 

As the hot water washed over him, his thoughts once again came back to you, your smile, your smell, your laugh, the way you felt in his arms, the way you laughed at his jokes, and listened to all of his stories. He knew in his heart that he wanted you, wanted to be with you, and by the time he turned off the tap and stepped out, he’d have to find a way to tell you. He shouldn’t be afraid, hadn’t his father always told him that the best way to get over a fear is to face it head on? So, that’s exactly what he was going to do. Face his fear of rejection and tell you exactly how he felt.

He just hoped that you felt the same way.

As he got dressed, he went over and over the best way to tell you.

~~~~~~~

A little later, you huffed out a breath as you drove up to your friend Selina’s place. You were exhausted from running around, plus the activities you had done last night and earlier that morning, and now you had to help put a shelf and table together. You wanted to call and cancel, but you had promised and plus Selina had promised to feed you. So, with some effort, you hauled your body out of your car and went to knock on her door.

She swung it open before you could fully raise your arm.

“There you are, darling, I was beginning to think you forgot about me,” she said, immediately wrapping you in a hug while pulling you inside.

“Now, Lina, you know I could never forget about you,” you laughed. “I just had some things to do first, I told you that.”

“Yes, yes, darling, I know,” she said, waving her hand in the air. Then she peered closer at you. “Seems like you had quite a bit going on.”

“Huh?” you were confused.

“Did you see Pedro again?”

“How-how did you know?’

She pointed at your neck with a knowing smirk. You turned and looked at your reflection in the mirror above her mantle. Sure enough, there was a hickey blooming on your neck, two actually. You tried to cover them with your hand while turning to her with an embarrassed look on your face.

“Darling, no need to look like that,” she said, with another wave of her hand. “We’re both adults here. I don’t know why you’re embarrassed.”

She walked to the box that held the shelf you were to put together and knelt on the floor. You followed her.

“I haven’t had a hickey since eleventh grade,” you hissed, kneeling down with her and opening the box.

“So?”

“So, I'm not a teenager anymore, I shouldn’t be walking around with hickeys like a sixteen year old.”

Selina just tsked. “Whatever you say, darling. Frankly, if it were me, I wouldn’t be embarrassed in the least bit.” 

“Well, you’re never embarrassed are you?” you commented.

She just gave you a smile and wink. “You’d never know if I was.”

You laughed and began taking the parts out and the instructions. Selina didn’t even glance at the instructions, claiming that it could be put together with a little common sense. You just shook your head and read them anyway, so that when something inevitably went wrong, you knew how to fix it.

As you put the shelf and then the table together you chatted about work, your families, and other friends. By the time she had filled you in on a mutual friend and her latest drama you were finished and she had ordered food for you both.

“.... so i told Liv that she needed to make a decision, and frankly no one would be upset if she left Jay.”

“Agreed,” you said from your favorite spot of her comfy recliner.

She turned to you. “Speaking of making decisions, what are you going to do about Pedro?”

“Do what about him?”

“Uh-uh don’t play confused with me, you know exactly what I mean. You see him at least four times a week.”

“Okay and?”

“And, why haven’t you two made things official. I mean, I for one would love to meet the man behind all the stories you’ve told me. He sounds like a real catch, well, at least from what I've heard about him from you, so what’s the deal?”

You just shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Nope, that isn’t gonna work with me, go on, tell me.”

“I just like what we have and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You like him, don’t you? And he obviously likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, from what you told me, he’s always trying to take you out, like on actual dates and stuff,” she pointed out. “If he just wanted to sleep with you, then he would and then kick you out, hell, he’d probably have moved on by now. But he hasn’t. You spend the night over there often, it seems like he wants more.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” you asked in a small voice.

“Seems like to me there’s only one way to figure that out.”

“What’s that?”

“Talk to him,” she said simply. She got up to answer the knock at the door and collect your food. 

As you two sat and ate, you were deep in thought.

~~~~~~~

When you finally made it home, you put up your things from your errands, all the while thinking about what Selina had said.

On the one hand, the arrangement that you had with Pedro was working out well. Over a year, and he hadn’t dumped you for anyone else, and, as far as you knew, he wasn’t seeing anyone else and neither were you. And man the sex was amazing. So, why mess up a good thing? You thought.

But then there was the other hand: how long could this last? At some point something had to change. You couldn’t just go along forever just sleeping with each other and nothing else, right? Eventually one or both of you would get tired and want to end things. 

Or he could find someone else, another thought came to your mind, and you didn’t like it one bit. You immediately got upset, you didn’t even want to entertain the idea of him being with someone else.

You sighed. “Maybe I need to sleep on this,” you said out loud to yourself.

With that, you headed to your bathroom to shower. Once you were finished you checked some emails from work then climbed in your bed. After tossing and turning for a good hour, you still couldn’t sleep. 

With a groan, you picked up your phone and tried playing white noise to fall asleep to, unfortunately that didn’t work. Your mind wouldn’t shut off. Pedro kept floating across it.

“Fine, fine!” you said aloud to the empty room. “I’ll talk to him!” You rolled over trying to get some sleep, but it was no good. A few minutes later there was a knock at your door. You glanced at the time. It was 1:45 in the morning. 

“Who the hell could that be?”  

Just then you heard a voice call out. “It’s just me.”

You got up and walked to the door and opened it, and there was Pedro standing on your stoop.

“What’s up?” you asked. 

“I know it’s late but I had to talk to you,” he explained. “About , um us… if that’s okay.”

“Really?” you asked and he nodded. “Well, funnily enough, I wanted to talk to you too, about us,” you replied.

You both stared at each other and then smiled.

“Well, uh, can I come in then?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah,” you said and stepped back to let him in.

You closed the door behind him and walked into the living room to talk about the rest of your lives.

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 12.9k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, self-esteem issues, fluff of some sort, self doubt, flirting, soft touches, skin on skin contact, kissing, kissing with tongue, pining, Stripper!Billy and Stripper!Steve at the end.

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You get to know Eddie in a more intimate way, and he helps you with something you didn't think he would agree to. But friends always help eachother.

Listen to the kissing scene here, with AI Eddie.

A/N: Can't even begin to describe how happy you guys made me with all of your reblogs and boosting this story in ways I didn't think could be done! Welcome to all new followers, to all new readers and thank you for your support!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

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PART 4

You ran out of coffee. That’s the first thing you noticed this morning as you got up and wanted your shot of caffeine. The fact you would have to go out to go get a cup of coffee before starting your day at work, was already making you whine with exasperation. 

You had a coffee machine at home because you always liked some nice, steamy, cup of coffee as soon as you woke up, but, you forgot to get it last time you went grocery shopping, swearing you had some, knowing you had some, so your best guess was that Robin snuck in and took it, forgetting to tell you.

You both have copies of your keys, because that’s the one lucky thing of having a friend in the same complex. If something seems out of the ordinary, or something happens at all, you could always go and check on eachother. It was safe, and you both liked feeling safe by one another.

But there were times where Robin would sneak in while you were out or something, or even sleeping, and she would get stuff she doesn’t have. You could go do that to her as well, but she probably used it all by now, so it was no use. You know Robin’s got a sweet stash at her home, so you always invade her property to steal some Reeses or some Musketeers. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing your Pikachu PJs and groaned, knowing you had to change out of the comfy clothes to get into restraining ones. You looked at the clock, 8:10. You had fifty minutes before you got into work, so you moved quickly to get dressed, with the new clothes you got during last week. 

After that meeting with Eddie and his friends, you’ve been shopping during the week, sometimes with Robin, sometimes by yourself, and you actually quite liked picking up clothes that no one could judge in the changing room but you and you only. You’ve gotten blouses, tank tops, a lot of colors, skirts, even shorts you felt comfortable in.

But you also bought something you never thought you would buy. A black piece of lingerie. Seeing it against your body, made you feel powerful, there was the obvious insecurity at the back of your throat and your mind, trying to tell you that you would not use it, that you don’t need it, that you don’t even look like the mannequin where it was displayed.

But you still felt that power. And you wanted it. So you got it. As well as a black stiletto dress, some heels, some accessories. Yes, your credit card bill will be something next month, but it was the first time you shopped, pushing so many negative thoughts away, listening to your gut only. 

So, right now, you put on some pair of jeans and a pink blouse over you, throwing on your white sneakers as well, since it was just a trip to the coffee shop that was two blocks away from your apartment complex. You grabbed your purse, threw your cell phone in there and off you went, walking into the morning sun and the soft summer breeze hitting your skin as you walked.

The days were getting hotter, and you were happy to have A/C in your apartment and mostly in your room, because that would have been agonizing. You could see people in suits walking to get the bus, or going straight to their workplace, and of course the old ladies that took their morning walks with their little dogs.

You reached the coffee shop, small, but it served coffee. You never came here, always opting to go to starbucks or another shop, because here, in this particular shop, there was always–

“Hello! What can I get for you?” Your eyes finally focused on the pair of green ones in front of you. A small knot appeared in your belly, as the nerves vacated in your throat, looking at the guy in front of you. He had black hair, and a bright smile on his face, the apron of the shop sitting on his waist. 

You licked your lips as you felt your fingertips warming up, as well as your ears, looking up at the menu as your brain started working once more. You scanned your options and took a deep breath in, pushing yourself to look down towards the guy’s eyes once again. 

“I would like a medium coffee, with half creamer in it please.” You respond to him, no shakiness in your voice, no stuttering, you didn’t even think of the words, or process anything, you just talked. And he was a handsome young man, probably beginning his 20’s, but his eyes were sharp green, yet, you didn’t feel like running away.

“Sure thing! To go?” Was his next question and you wanted to nod, because it didn’t require for you to speak really, but you still did, just to prove yourself, just to feel prouder and feel your chest gleam with victory.

“Yes, please.” You grabbed your purse and found your hands steady, a little bit of coldness at the tip of your fingers, but nothing like before. Nothing like you would have acted before. You grabbed your wallet and took out the money, and you looked at the bill in your hand and the counter. You raised your head up again, and put the money in front of you for him to take from your hand.

He smiled and grabbed the bill from the other end, and you felt yourself blush slightly as you saw he was about to give you change.

“Keep it.” It wasn’t much, but this had made your day insanely better, by a mile, and it didn’t even start yet. The sun was up, yes, but it was too early in the morning. The guy smiled at you again, giving you a nod.

“Thank you lovely.” Oh, a pet name. Your heart picked up a pace as you smiled back at him, and his back finally turned, letting you exhale a shaky breath out of your lips. Your stomach was knotting, but you kept your gaze up, hand on the counter as you waited for him to finish your coffee. There was a part of you that wanted to run away, but because you didn’t know what to take of that pet name. Eddie says them all the time, so it’s nothing special, right? It’s just a way of calling someone.

He turned around with your coffee in hand, and slid it over to you with a smile to his face, which you returned, despite feeling your neck burning from nervousness, and you grabbed your cup, putting the strap of your purse over your shoulder. You cleared your throat slightly and pushed your limits once again.

“Have a good day.” You say to him and he gives you a small chuckle and a nod.

“You too Miss!” And that was that. You turned around and walked out of the door, with a small ding as you opened it. You were wide eyed, a huge grin on your face as you walked, trying to keep your excitement inside. A month ago, you wouldn’t have done that, there was no way you would have done something like that! You looked at him, straight in the eye and even held a conversation! Tipped him! 

You were panting heavily as you finally reached your complex, looking at the time on your phone as you headed to Robin’s apartment. You had 20 minutes before logging into work, and you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t contain it inside yourself. You fumbled with the keys on her lock, and rushed inside, pushing the door closed with your foot and dropping everything, the cup of coffee and your purse on Robin’s table.

You rushed towards her room, already hearing the intense snoring your friend has, and you opened her door to see her hugging her pillow, while drooling all over it, one leg over the comforter as she slept on her side. You bit your lip as you tiptoed to her right side, and then lightly shook her shoulder.

“Robin… Robs…” You tried waking her up and all you got was a soft snore and a grunt.

“5 more minutes and I’ll get ready mom…” You giggled under your breath and shook her harder.

“Robin, wake up, I have to tell you something!” You exclaimed a little louder this time, and that made her head prop up from her pillow, doing a slurping sound as she put her spit back in her mouth, her hair almost looking like a nest.

“What the fuck are you doing? Its–” She double tapped the phone on her nightstand and looked at the time through half lidded eyes. “Almost 9 AM! I work at 10 and I wake up ten minutes before logging in.” She grunted out to you and you were still smiling widely and shaking her shoulder.

“But I need to tell you something! Look what I got!” You rushed outside the room to go grab the forgotten cup of coffee and then rushed back towards Robin’s room to see her sitting up, rubbing her eyes while yawning. You showed her your cup and she just looked at you as if you were completely insane.

“You got… Coffee?” And her eyes slightly widened as she rubbed her eyes with her fingers, pinching them as frustration hit her. “I took the last of your coffee, shit, forgot to tell you.”

“Robin, no! I got it from the coffee shop two blocks down!” You tried again and she just looked at you with a confused look on her face.

“I don’t know why you woke me up for, but I do not appreciate it–”

“The barista was a guy!” 

And Robin sat there, looking at you, blinking slowly as your news sank in. She knew about the guy at that coffee shop, she buys her coffee there, while you drive around to look for Female baristas, but now you bought coffee from the same place she does. It was a family business and the guy is the son of the owner. 

“You bought coffee…”

“Yes.”

“From the barista, who is a man.”

“Yes, and I said thank you, tipped him, gave the money in his hand and even wished him a good day without driving my eyes away.” You puffed out your chest as you took a sip of your coffee which was now cold, making you wince in disgust. 

Robin slowly started smiling widely at you and she plopped herself onto the bed again with a cheer, excitement blooming in her chest for you, because this now offered you possibilities, chances, and it opened so many doors for you, the possibility of thousands of paths you could take.

“Holy shit! GOD BLESS STRIPPERS!” She yelled out loud which made you choke on the coffee you were sipping, and then trying to shush her through your coughs.

“Robin, shut up!” You laughed as you placed your cup on her night table, sitting next to her as she just stared at the ceiling with a wild look on her face.

“This is huge! Like, now you can talk to strangers! Like, complete strangers without knowing their name! This is a big step!” She giggled as she looked up at you and you were smiling, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly because of how proud you felt of yourself. 

“He even called me Lovely, and I didn’t flinch! I blushed of course, but I stood my ground.” You tell her, and she sat up, pinching your cheek tightly.

“I am so proud of you…” And you knew she meant it as you pushed her away from the assault on your cheek, rubbing it afterwards as you laughed at her, but Robin’s smile faded slightly as she looked down at her hands. “What about the other girls? When will you tell them that you’re doing this?” She asked and yes, you have been keeping this a secret therapy from the other girls in the group, but because you wanted to surprise them, and you also felt too much pressure on yourself if many people knew about this. 

“When I get a date… I will tell them. I just feel like I have to make them proud if I do tell them, like I will force myself to move rapidly and not at my own pace.” You try to explain and gladly Robin understood, giving you a nod. Her smile returned but in the shape of a smirk as she scooted closer to you.

“You gonna tell Eddie?” You looked at her and you felt a burning happening on your ears, and you felt a cold sweat going from the bottom of your neck and running towards your chest. “You still going to his house after work?” Your eyes widened as you jumped up from the bed.

“WORK!” You rushed out of the bedroom, leaving a laughing Robin trying to catch her breath on her bed. Of course, she couldn’t go back to sleep from the excitement now, and the fact that you would be going to Eddie’s later on was making even more excited.

Because she wasn’t invited this time.

You fixed your half ponytail again as you stood in front of Eddie’s apartment door. You chose a different outfit now, jeans, wide leg this time, and a tight crop top white T-shirt, that covers your belly button of course. You had some bunky white sneakers on your feet, and you had done some eyeliner, mascara, and covered a few marks on your face that were here and there. 

The butterflies in your stomach were going wild as you waited for him, hearing the thumping coming closer to the door. Fridays were Eddie’s day off, so it would be just the two of you in his apartment. You doubted on saying yes to this when he invited you over, but you two were friends, it was something normal to do. So why are you still nervous?

The door opened and you looked up to see Eddie smiling down at you and his eyes widened slightly as he looked at you.

“All this for me?” He motioned towards your outfit and you couldn’t help the small smile that came up to your lips as well as a blush spreading on your cheeks, not expecting his praise. He opened his arms for you, raising his eyebrow up, hiding behind his fringe, his hair in a high bun, with some strands falling on his face.

You saw the black shirt, tightening on his chest and biceps as he opened his arms. The guitar pick hanging from his neck, and the black ripped pants on his legs, followed by some combat black boots. You rocked a bit on your heels as you got closer to him, feeling your stomach slowly rising to your throat. He was smirking as he wrapped his arms around you, not too tight, but it was enough to invade you with warmth, and his cologne penetrated your nostrils, making you feel slightly dizzy.

You gulped heavily as you slowly placed your cheek on his chest, feeling the warmth on your skin growing hotter, stiffening all over as his arms pressed onto your shoulders to pull you closer.

“Your arms around me, return my amazing warm hug.” He joked, but he was actually quite nervous about this. He had told you in the last video call that he would like to greet you properly with a hug, and you agreed, after catching your breath a few times, but you did. He felt his heart beat slightly faster as your perfume invaded his sense of smell, noting the sweetness of it, but also the powerful punch to it. 

You raised your arms, feeling them tremble slightly, slowly putting your hands against his waist, almost a brush, not putting pressure on your grip and Eddie shook his head, you could feel over yours, which was making your blush deepen even more as the butterflies in your belly were creating hurricanes and tornadoes from how wild they were flying.

“Your arms, not just your hands. Wrap your arms around me Sweetheart.” You closed your eyes at the vibration on his chest as he talked, taking another deep breath in, guiding your hands towards his back to finally wrap your arms around his waist. He chuckled and finally squished you into him, making you choke up at the sudden gesture, your chest pressing against his harshly, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Eddie, what the fuck–” You choked out with a weak voice and he finally pulled away, laughing at your reaction as you took many deep breaths to get your lungs to decompress again.

“That’s a guy friend hug for you. Come on, I’ll prepare us some nice drinks, and guess what!” He said excitedly as you walked into his apartment, the blush still spread on your cheeks as you held your chest. 

“What?” He pointed towards the coffee table in front of the couch, and there you saw the bowl of Nachos and different smaller bowls that contained salsas and dip sauces. Your face lit up as you rushed towards to sit on the couch, grabbing onto one chip and dipping it into the Guacamole he prepared, taking it with one big bite. If there was something you really loved, it was Guacamole, because it was fresh, yet rich in flavor. It was perfect.

Eddie was biting his bottom lip as he saw your eyes close in delight and he almost choked on his saliva as a soft moan vibrated on your throat. He wasn’t ready for that. He really was not prepared for that sound. It caught him completely by surprise and now it was something he won’t be able to erase from his head anytime soon. 

“Good?” He asked and you opened your eyes to smile at him, still chewing on the chip, nodding your head excitedly. He chuckles at your response, happy with it, and heads over to grab some beers from the fridge, taking off the caps with a bottle opener that is magnetized to the fridge itself. He returned to you, sitting right beside you as he handed the bottle to you.

“Oh!” You hurriedly swallowed your chip as you raised the bottle to cheer. “I will cheer because today I was able to buy coffee from a shop that has a working… male barista.” You say proudly with a smile on your face and Eddie’s turns into shock, mouth falling agape at you.

“Seriously?” He asked and you smiled at him, nodding excitedly, repeating the same steps you did as when you told Robin about it. He was amazed by you, really, slowly becoming confident, in the way you talk, dress, and most importantly, you are confident in being yourself. You don’t change your way of speaking, or your topics, or what you like just to fit in. This is what mattered the most. “Well, fuck sweetheart, congratulations to that!” 

You both cheered with a clink of your bottles and instantly started to dig away onto the chips. Eddie was mesmerized at how you could work from home, because it would allow you to do many things whenever you have a few minutes to spare, and he was right. You often cleaned the house, or played on your Switch.

“Please tell me you play Mario Kart.” He said and you smirked at his words, finding out that he too owns a switch. So that was quickly plugged in, and the matches began, one after the other, Eddie choosing Mario, while you chose Peach. 

You won every game.

“This is rigged. It’s absolutely rigged.” He exclaims, putting his controller on the table with a loud thud as he sipped on his beer with an angry frown on his face, while you wore a wide smile on yours, putting the controller on the coffee table too. 

“I am just better than you in this.” You say cockily, catching him by surprise but it was indeed something you are confident in, so he will accept you being a brat for now. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I beat my brother every time, and he is like a major video game nerd. Always gets mad that this is something he can’t beat me at.” He laughs as he slumps back against the couch and you stare at him, deciding to take off your shoes, to be able to sit and turn to look at him, propping your feet up on the couch, right under you, almost in a kneeling position.

“You mentioned your brother before, also a Lord of the Rings fan.” You say to him and he chuckles, looking at you with a smile to his face. He made an ‘oh’ sound and moved slightly towards you to be able to pull the phone out of his back pocket. 

“A little shit I tell you.” He opened the gallery on his phone and went to look for the photos of last christmas. He found one and smiled as he looked at it, handing the phone to you.

You almost snorted your beer out of your nose as you held Eddie’s phone. Eddie was wearing the ugliest christmas sweater you had ever seen, in the color of greens and reds, reindeers all over it, while the guy next to him, with curly hair as well, but did not share any of Eddie’s facial features, wore a Rudolph sweater, and the nose was lit up. 

“Well, these are… some nice sweaters!” You choke out, and he took the phone back, laughing from your reaction as he put his phone onto the table again.

“Yeah, his mom bought them for us.” He replied and that caught your attention. His mom. Not their mom. He noticed how you tilted your head at the word and he straightened up, looking at you. “My parents have been gone since I was 10. My uncle Wayne took me in, and it was just the two of us, living in a small trailer in Hawkins. Poor man had to sleep on a pull out bed in the living room so I could have my own room.” He said with a soft chuckle as he looked at his rings, playing with them as a bit of nerves filled his voice.

Talking about his past was not something he ever liked doing, but in order to strengthen his relationship with you, he knew that this conversation was coming at some point. He was glad he had alcohol to do it, even if the story of his life didn’t end as tragically as he thought it would. 

“Bet he took good care of you.” You comment and Eddie simply nodded at that, a small smile appearing in his lips.

“Yeah, I was a son of a bitch though. In order for some bills to be paid, I sold drugs at school, you know just your friendly metal head weed dealer.” You looked down at that, not because of disappointment of him, but to know that he had it that rough in his teenage years was making your chest feel some kind of pressure that you were not enjoying. 

“Sometimes people have to do things in order to survive.” You said this time and he smiled, taking your soft gesture at not making a big deal out of his past. He looked up at you with a smile to his face now, almost excitedly.

“But, when I was at a gig, playing with my band, I invited my Uncle and he showed up with a lady friend called Claudia. After that, they started dating, and I met my step brother, Dustin.” He positioned himself to begin talking with his hands from the excitement he was feeling and you were mesmerized by how entranced you were with him. “I mean, he is a nerd! Like me! Star Wars, Lord of the rings, Star Trek, Lost, The Walking Dead… We became inseparable just like that.” 

You were smiling as you listened to him, he just seemed so happy about his family, about the person he is now, how despite it all he is still himself, not letting his circumstances change him or what he likes. 

“You were in a band?” You asked him and he nodded at you, a small glint of sadness shining in his eyes for a second.

“Yeah, as you can see, I play guitar.” He said to you and motioned to one corner, where one electric guitar stood, a red one, and then next to it was an acoustic one. You nodded with an ‘oh’. “Apart from your job, what do you do?” You turned to him and frowned slightly as you thought about that. 

You didn’t really have any hobbies, you just like to read, watch movies, play on your Switch every now and then, maybe baking sometimes when you feel inspired to do so, and now you feel a certain sense of embarrassment washing you over because of how boring you actually are. Think you are. You gazed down at your beer and fumbled with it with your fingers, clearing your throat.

“I– Uh… Don’t really do anything. I was as interesting as a slug, you know. Trying to just lay low, never really took an interest in anything.” Well that was depressing. Letting those words come out of your mouth, realizing that the person in front of you had a very exciting life, was slowly making you feel like curling into a ball and just staying there. Your brain was starting to work, and it began whispering things you didn’t want to hear, not with him.

‘You’re so boring, you should go.’

‘Why is he even friends with someone like you?’

“It’s okay to not have any interests. Better than having forced ones put on you.” You hear Eddie say as you look up to see him shooting a caring smile at you, your mind simply shutting off as you stared at him. “Steve for example, he was pushed to be captain of the Basketball team, Swimming Team, Soccer team… All because his parents wanted him to be the little star.” Eddie scoffed at that, shaking his head as he looked towards the living room.

“Really? And he didn’t want to do that?” You ask and Eddie simply laughs and shakes his head.

“Fuck no. Steve, believe it or not, fucking loves cooking. That guy can cook us a five star meal, out of thin air. He can make chicken nuggets taste like they were done by Gordon Ramsey himself.” You giggle at that, feeling your nerves slowly leaving your body as he talks to you.

“I have to try that, see if what you’re saying is true.” He laughs at that, and nods, taking a chip, dipping it into the Sour Cream and crunching on it. 

“Yeah, ‘nd Billy? Billy was an asshole to Steve and I in high school. Also pushed over by his father to be the best of the school. Worse than Steve.” His expression turned sour at that, his smile falling as he looked at his beer. “When Steve and I found him on the street, with a concussion in his head… I think that’s when we decided we would take Billy with us, out of Hawkins.” 

You were stunned to hear the story of these three men you met no more than a month ago, in the weirdest circumstance of all. You saw them almost naked, thinking that those three men would just be the snarkiest, or most flirtatious people you would ever meet, but there is always more under the skin, under the flesh, under any layer they had created to prevent from being hurt again.

“And… How did you… get the jobs you have now?” You asked him and he turned to you with a playful smile on his face. 

“The first time we stepped on Indianapolis we got drunk, and went straight to a strip club, a female strip club. We were amazed by the amount of money they were getting on their thongs, like, I’m talking about thousands! We just looked at eachother and wondered if we had the power to do something like that… Turns out, we did.” He took a sip of his beer and got up to go fetch two new bottles as you put your empty one on the coffee table, taking hold of a chip.

“So, it’s not like a job you regret having.” You say to him and you hear him chuckle as two caps clinked onto the counter. He walked back towards you, handing you your third bottle of the night as he sat back next to you.

“Nah. It’s still work, and it pays really well, and you can also meet the strangest, yet greatest of people there too.” He says clinking his bottle on yours and you feel a blush coming up to your cheeks at that, smiling softly at him. His eyes were fixed on you, as you smiled and took a sip out of your bottle.

You are peeling your layers, one by one, slowly but surely becoming the person you probably always wanted to be, letting yourself be happy, and this goes beyond the talking to men thing. This was you finally having some confidence in yourself. Believing that you dressed nice, that you did your make up right, that you did your hair with confidence and you felt pretty in all of it. 

Eddie was sure he was watching a butterfly coming out of their cocoon. 

He cleared his throat and your eyes focused on him again as he shook his head to drive his attention away from you, just for a second. You tilted your head as you waited for him to talk, and after an ‘ah’ from his part, which made you giggle, he continued.

“So, let’s tackle the next scenario… What do you do on a date?” He asks you and you immediately straighten up, noticing the slight happy dizziness the alcohol was doing in your brain but you were still very much conscious, but your blood flow was betraying you, making you blush all over.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, actually wanting him to be more specific, and he maneuvered his body to sit while facing you, just like you were doing with him.

“Well, what do you talk about? Do you know how to make a move?” You were supposed to make moves yourself? You slowly shook your head at him and he sighed at you. “Well, for example, on a date, you talk about very superficial stuff. Work, movies, food, music. That’s really the basic stuff.” You were mentally taking notes of that with a nod to your head.

“So, no talks about… politics, family, religion?” You ask him and he laughs at you, his dimples dipping into his cheeks and you felt the burning on your ears again as you saw his smile while he shook his head.

“No. And nothing deep either… A little bit of what we just did now, but less intimate. I ask about your workplace, you ask about mine. You ask about my hobbies, I ask about yours. Keep it simple and short, maybe throw a little funny story here and there about stuff.” You raised your eyebrow at that, confused by what he might mean.

“A funny story?” You ask him and he nods at you.

“Like, for example, when I asked you about your friends and you told me about Robin and the Raccoon, which it’s still very funny to imagine it till this day.” He says with a chuckle and you follow him with a giggle, catching onto what he was saying. 

“Got it, funny works.” He nods at that, and you feel him getting closer to you.

“Alright, now… Normally, on dates, the men do not make any physical moves to show interest. That’s the lady’s job. If we are already engaging in a conversation with you, we are already interested, we are as simple as that… But a woman, you have to let us know you are interested, and that is all done with body language.” He finished and you were just blinking, almost wide eyed as he stared right back at you.

“B-Body language?” You ask him and he immediately laughs at your reaction, shaking his head.

“I’m not talking about pouncing on the guy. Look, I’m gonna touch you, okay?” He says this time and that for some reason sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt uncomfortable so you moved your legs a bit as he scooted closer. “Okay, so, one common move is laughing and placing your hand on the bicep.” 

“Oh, I’ve seen that in a movie! Wait, that actually works?” You ask tilting your head slightly and he smiles at you, nodding his head.

“Like a charm. You just–” He made a funny laugh, sort of a Santa Claus one, making you laugh as well as he moved back and then forward again, putting his hand on your left bicep, running his fingers down for just one second and pulling back again. You felt the area where he touched grow hot, and you bit your bottom lip at how easy he was making this look. “You touch for a second, do not linger more than that, because that would be too obvious, or too desperate.” 

“Oh? I mean, isn’t the whole idea of it for guys to know that I am interested though?” You asked and he nodded slightly to then shake his head afterwards.

“Yes and no. It’s confusing, but we do like a little bit of a chase. If we get it too easily, our interest kind of… fades away.” You grimaced at his words, showing him a look of slight disgust. 

“And you guys say we are the complicated ones.” You say, taking a sip of your beer and he widens his eyes, looking at you, putting his arm along the backrest of the couch, towards you. 

“Hey, we are very simple! In many, many aspects, sweetheart.” You were still facing him, biting onto the inside of your left cheek, trying to hide the smirk as you squinted at him.

“Like what? Throwing big rocks into a lake and rate the splash?” You ask as your left hand starts to slowly creep up on the back rest, without him noticing, a laugh vibrating in his throat at your words.

“Exactly, we just like a little bit of a struggle, that’s all. It makes the tension grow between you and your date.” He explained and your fingers found their way onto his right forearm which were still resting onto the backrest towards you. You hummed at that, taking a sip of your beer.

“But, wouldn’t you risk losing the date? What if you take too long and don’t give in in time?” You ask him as your fingers start to trace onto his bat tattoo, still looking at him. Your heart was beating with excitement as you saw him shiver slightly but was still not realizing you were touching him at all.

“We always give in, it’s at the third move that–'' He shivered again and his eyebrows knitted together as he felt the tingling sensation on his forearm. He looked at it and saw you passing your nails on his tattoos, and his belly twisted, simply and aggressively twisted. His intestines were knotting with each other and he was sure his brain short circuited. You were touching him. You were deliberately touching him, flirting with confidence, and you made sure he didn’t notice.

How long have you been touching him like that? And why does it feel so good when it’s just your nails brushing against his skin, tracing the drawings that were inked on him, and you weren’t even batting an eye at that. He slowly turned to look at you, and that’s when he saw your amused face, biting on your tongue as you smiled at him. A laugh started coming up on his throat, as his nerves flew away from his fingers.

“Shit, that was smooth Princess.” And to his dismay, you put your hand away, taking a sip of your beer. He was still staring at your movements, completely entranced. He was feeling his heart about to burst and he looked down at his beer, deciding this would be the last one for the night. Yep. It would be the last one.

“Thank you, I saw it on Friends.” You say with a wiggle of your eyebrows and he finally let out a cackle, amazed that you tried on a move from a tv show on him, and that it actually worked. He was slightly flustered and maybe that had to do with the alcohol in his system as well.

Your laughing slowly faded away as you looked down at your beer. The dread of the possibilities of what would happen after a move being made could trigger. Possibilities you weren’t sure if you’ve done right. Things you don’t know if you ever did, and what if it were done to you? 

“Okay, what’s going on in that head of yours now?” Eddie asks, slightly worried at the change of expressions you just had. Were you regretting something? Maybe touching him? 

“What if it goes well?” Was your simple question. Eddie blinked at that, not fully understanding what you were asking.

“What if… what goes well?”

“I-I mean, what if– What if the date goes well? What if–” You were a blushing mess, almost sweating as you tried to word your thoughts out without sounding like a child, without sounding pathetic, looking everywhere but his face. But Eddie’s eyes softened, looking at you, seeing you stammer in your words, trying to let them out of your mouth with no luck, but he knew exactly what you wanted to ask.

“You mean if he kisses you?” Your breath caught in your throat at that and you hid your face into your hands in shame. You’ve kissed before, but was it ever good? Was it enjoyable? Did you do it right? Did they do it right? You knew you didn’t put much effort into them because you just weren’t attracted to the people you’ve kissed, you just wanted the experience to be over with, just like your virginity.

But kissing someone attractive, you’ve never done that.

“Yeah… I mean– I can do it but… I don’t know if I did it right…” You said almost in a whisper, ashamed of your words, of being 25 years old and still worry about your kissing skills. Voicing your worries to a man that’s done more kissing than you did in your whole life, much more, way more. Eddie frowned at your words, and shifted on his seat, raising his hand up to put it under your chin for you to look at him. You slowly locked eyes with his and the feel of his hand on your skin, just made your butterflies flutter all inside of your belly, your head getting lighter at the touch. He smiled gently at you, pulling his hand away.

“Sweets, one thing you have to understand is… Attractive people don’t have superpowers.” He says to you and you frowned at that in confusion, tilting your head to the side while looking at him.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, just because a person is hot, doesn’t mean they are experts at everything. You can find hot people that are lousy kissers, bad at flirting, horrible at sex, like, finish in two seconds and that’s that. Hot people that are assholes, like certified with a capital A… Just because you find someone attractive, doesn’t mean they have more experience than you, in any way.”

You drank in his words, processing them in your head. You never thought of it like that, not ever. You just thought that people that are attractive have more chances of experiences, and that leads them to have some practice. Eddie was looking at how you were absorbing that information, and he noticed how your shoulders lost their tension, slumping down a bit on your body.

He was feeling the buzz of the beer as he took a sip from it and put it on the coffee table, a warmth expanding on his body as he scooted just one jump closer to you, which made you look at him again.

“I’ll tell you a secret, and you won’t tell them I told you okay?” He starts and you nod slowly at that, straightening up once again to listen to him. He smiled at you and continued. “So, you saw Steve. Fucking handsome right? With that hair, the freckles, fucking lady killer.”

“Y-Yeah.” You nodded slightly at that, feeling the anxiety of admitting Steve was hot not as painful as it once would have been. 

“Yeah, he couldn’t kiss for shit.” Eddie says with a smile and your eyes widened at that, not believing what he was saying. A man like Steve? Not knowing how to kiss?! “You’re looking at me like I’m lying, but I swear I’m not. When we first started working at the club, and Steve kissed clients, they would complain to Joyce that he was too sloppy, too much saliva.”

“Oh god…” You giggle as you take a sip from your beer, wincing in disgust at the thought of a kiss with overloading saliva. Eddie laughed at that, nodding.

“Yep… He was so bummed out because he wanted to be one of the favorites and he knew that if he didn’t kiss he wasn’t going to get it. So… Billy helped.” You spat your drink away from Eddie at that and he started laughing hysterically at your reaction. Your eyes were almost bulging out of your sockets as you listened to that.

“Are you joking!?” He shakes his head at you, still laughing, his shoulders shaking up and down at the motion.

“Fuck no. Imagine my fucking shock when I came in here and I found them making out on the kitchen. It was traumatizing.” He says and your eyes were still like plates as you stared at him. “They aren’t dating if that’s what you are going yo ask, Steve is bisexual but Billy is straight. He just wanted to help Steve.” You blinked rapidly at that, and gave one nod, frowning at that. Friends helped eachother like that?

“So, that makes Billy a good kisser then.” You say and Eddie nods with a shrug.

“That must be, BUT, Billy was very forceful when handling the clients. Pulling their chairs, or turning them, or grabbing their shoulders. He really didn't know how to treat them.” He says and you tilted your head with a surprised ‘oh’ on your lips. Now what Eddie was saying about everyone, despite how they looked, had flaws was making more sense to you.

“So, Steve taught him to be gentle?” You asked and Eddie smirked, shaking his head and pointing at himself.

“Nope. That would be me. I taught him how to pull a chair with force but not a violent one, or how to grab a chin or a shoulder without digging his digits into the skin.” He explains and you were just staring at him, nodding at every word he was saying. You licked your lips as the nerves started forming a lump in your throat, looking down at your bottle of beer which was half empty by now.

“So, that would make you… Flawless?” You try to giggle and Eddie couldn’t help but feel his chest warm at your slight praise, but he was far from what you just said. He shook his head and smiled at you.

“Hell no… I couldn’t dance for shit.” He says to you and you raise your head up in complete surprise. “I didn’t know how to move my hips like Channing Tatum does, and Steve was the one to help with that. You might have noticed that night that out of the three of us, Steve is the one that moves the most.” You shook your head nervously at that, looking at the empty bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“That night is still kinda hazy, but I remember one thing or two.” You were sure you were a deep red now, remembering Steve on his knees as he prayed to Nancy, Billy’s hip grinding against Barb, and Eddie’s kiss and fingers down someone’s throat. 

“So, yeah, we all have flaws, and we all have experience and inexperience.” He finishes saying, looking up at the ceiling, not noticing how you put the beer on the table, sitting up straight now, not facing him, your feet back on the floor as you fumbled with your hands on your knees.

The knots in your belly now turned into painful vines, full of thorns as your body burned in anticipation. You knew this would cross a line, you knew this was a big step, and you knew this was not right, and for some reason, you knew this would be a mistake. 

But, there is also a part of you that knows you want this. And that part is winning over all of the other things that were stopping you.

“S-So… You guys helped each other.” You began talking and he shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling as he rested against the backrest of the couch.

“Yeah, cause we’re friends. It’s what friends do, have each other's back.” You nodded at that, slowly as you gulped down the lump that was forming in your throat and your feet turned cold.

“Friends…” You were almost breathing heavily, your nails digging onto your knees as your heart started beating into your ears, hearing every thump of it as it rapidly made your blood flow to every inch of your body. “A-And… We’re friends… right?”

Eddie’s eyes almost came out of his skull because of how wide he just stared at the ceiling. Were you actually asking him what he thought you were asking? Nah, it couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t real, right? He slowly looked down and you were already looking at him, jumping slightly as he locked eyes with you, making you flinch your gaze away in embarrassment.

He was still trying to understand that what you were asking was real. You wanted his help, but he was fighting with himself because he didn’t want you to think he was taking advantage of you for trusting him. He really didn’t want you to think that. But if you were the one asking… 

“Sweets, are you asking me what I think you are asking me?” He asks, and he wants verbal confirmation, even if it takes you an eternity to say it, he will wait. His chest was hurting from how fast his heart was beating into it, and he wanted to punch it to make it calm down. You were a friend asking for help, he has to get a hold of himself.

“I-It’s stupid, don’t worry, f-forget what I just said!” Your mind was telling you to run away. You crossed the line, you fucked it up. Why would he want to kiss you anyways? You weren’t anything special, just a friend, and he kissed beautiful women almost every night. You were inexperienced, and you would probably fuck it up, completely and he would laugh at you, or what if he winces in disgust at you? What if–

“Darling, darling, darling… Calm down.” You felt his hand on your knee and your eyes looked down to your lap, not realizing that your legs had been jumping up and down uncontrollably. Your breathing was slightly heavy as you shook your head still looking down.

“I-I shouldn’t have– I mean– We’re-We’re friends–” And Eddie wasn’t going to let you belittle yourself. He knew what was coming next, so he stopped your rambling with just his voice.

“Honey, I would be honored to help you with this.”

Your body froze all of its movements. Your legs, your quivering lips, the digging of your nails on your jeans, and even your heart steadied itself, almost non beating. His hand was still on your knee and you saw him pulling it back to himself as he waited for you to reincorporate yourself. 

Did he say honored? Why would he be honored? You have to stop thinking, you have to stop. You need to push the thoughts away, he said he will help you, it’s just that. Help. It doesn’t mean anything else, but a friend helping another friend. Nothing more. It’s nothing more.

You slowly turned your head to face him and he was wearing a soft encouraging smile as he looked at you. He wasn’t going to show his nervousness, and he didn’t even know what he was nervous about. He has kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but you, for some reason, were making his knees tremble slightly, as well as feeling like bending over from the constant knot in his stomach.

“You okay?” He asked you and you were still looking at him, face red as you tried to mumble out words.

“Y-You’re sure you want to… kiss me?” You asked him and his eyebrows turned into a frown at your question. He knew there was more to it than simply asking him if he wanted to kiss a friend to help her. He knew there was something deeper behind those words, something darker.

“Darling, you’re fucking beautiful, I’d be more than honored to kiss you.” He said with a fist pump in the air to try to ease up the tense situation and it seems it worked, because you let out a soft huff, almost a giggle, and he saw your fingers no longer digging on your jeans. He took a deep breath in and positioned himself, sitting next to you, but facing you, crossed legs under him. “Okay, I need you to, first, let yourself go.”

He put his arms out and started shimming all over, just moving all his arms and body erratically as if trying to get a bug away from him. You laughed at his movements and sat in the same position, facing him and shaking yourself to lose the tension on your body, making him laugh at you, scanning you all over for a second as you joined him in the laughter.

This moment right here between you two, was too easy, too natural, and it felt as if it were right, and it had always been destiny that you two should meet. He was enjoying this moment with you, finally something different in his daily life. His calls with you, whenever you show him a new piece of clothing you got for yourself, and it wasn’t only with him.

Steve and Robin talked privately too, but it was as if they were soulmates, long lost souls that should have been together a long time ago. Platonically. He wondered if that was the same with you. If your relationship was platonic of some sort, only focused on it being friendship… And there’s another part of him that wished it wasn’t that.

“Right so… I’m going to start slow, okay? So first things first.” He grabbed your hand gently, pulling it up towards his lips to finally press them against your knuckles. You took a sharp intake of breath at that, feeling him against your skin in this way was something you were not really prepared for. You shivered at his touch, and you felt your belly just yearning for more, your mind no longer wanting to run away. He lingered his lips there, looking at your reaction until you met his eyes again and you took a deep breath in with a nod.

Eddie now knew you were okay with his touch, putting your hand down once again. He licked his lips in anticipation as he looked into your eyes who were looking at him with expectation, waiting for his next move. He raised his hand up towards your right cheek and leaned forward. Your breath completely stopped as you felt your stomach just contract on itself, shutting your eyes tightly and bracing for what he was going to do, until you felt his lips press gently onto your left cheek. 

It was burning your skin almost.

“No need to act so pained about it.” He let out a nervous chuckle out of his lips as he saw your scrunched up face. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you again, and dropping his hand down from your face. “Okay, now, I want you to reciprocate that. Kiss my cheek, I’ll close my eyes so you can be comfortable.” 

When Eddie closed his eyes, you couldn’t help but stare at him. He just looked way too beautiful, untouchable almost, tingles going from the bottom of your neck to the tip of your fingers. Your heart was painfully beating into your chest cavity as you slowly leaned in, keeping your eyes open just to not miss the spot on his left cheek. You had to press your hands on his knees to keep yourself stable as your lips inched closer to his skin.

You held your breath in as you finally pressed your flesh with his, yours soft, plump against a warm cheek that was tinting itself in a pink hue. You let the air leave your lung as you rapidly sat back in place, taking your hands away from his knees. He gulped heavily as he composed himself, opening his eyes to look at you. 

Your eyes were on your lap as you fumbled with your fingers, and he wanted to laugh, almost giggling he could say at how red you were looking. But he wasn’t going to do that, because you were doing good, great even, but now comes the difficult part, one of the few. 

“That was soft sweetheart, thank you.” You almost whined at the praise but because you just felt getting redder and redder from embarrassment and adrenaline. You slowly looked up at him, and you suddenly saw the hint of nervousness cross his features, making your eyebrows twitch in confusion. “Um… Now, I will give you a peck on the lips. You can close your eyes this time, and then I want you to give one back to me, that okay?” 

Oh, your breathing quickened at that. You clenched your fists tightly, closing your eyes as you nodded at him, barely, but he could figure it out. He raised a hand up, and he noticed the particular shakiness at the tip of his fingers, frowning at them because he never twitched. He never trembled. He never got nervous. He held onto your left cheek and you jumped slightly at the touch, not expecting it and you tightened your lips together. He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Don’t tighten your lips. Relax angel, it’s just me.” He softly says and the way his voice sounds on your ears, make you actually slump a little bit, relax your muscles as well as your lips. He looked down at them, feeling his breathing quicken its pace, but he held those breaths in, trying to not show how he was feeling to you, which he didn’t even know what feelings he was feeling himself. 

He leaned down, pulling your face towards him, slowly and agonizingly. You wanted to open your eyes to see how far he was from you, as your belly just screamed at you to lean closer, but you stayed put. Waiting, and after what felt like ages, in the darkness behind your eyelids, you finally felt his lips connect with yours. A sharp intake of breath was taken on your part due to the shock, and also because of how surprisingly soft he was being. A soft subtle moan vibrated in your throat at the touch and he had to contain the urge to move his lips on yours, wanting to devour you. Your hands itched with the need of grabbing onto him, and it was shocking you because you never felt this. You never felt the need for more. 

Because that’s all you could think about now. More. You wanted more.

He pulled away from you, the peck being only for one or two seconds but to the two of you seemed like minutes. He opened his eyes at the same time you opened yours and he swears that he felt an electric shock run down his body as his pupils connected with yours. Your breaths were mixing with one another, because Eddie was still in your space, noses almost touching.

He pulled away from you, causing you to exhale a deep sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, and he dropped his hand from your cheek. He ignored the lingering burning sensation that was left on his palm as he gazed at you once again, a soft smile spreading on his lips.

“You okay?” He asked you and you could only nod. He chuckled at your reaction and scooted closer, now knees touching. “Alright, your turn.”

Fuck, that made all of your consciousness return to you in one big slap. It was your turn to kiss him. But you could do it right? It was just a peck, just a quick peck. You could do that, it was something fast, just like he did to you. You couldn’t feel your fingers as you raised your hand up to cup his left cheek. You scrunched your eyes closed and leaned in, quick, pulling him as well, but you felt him fight against your grip and you opened your eyes to see him squinting at you.

“What–”

“Slower. If you come at me that fast you are gonna knock our teeth out Angel. Just go slow, no need to be quick.” And there was a part of him that just said that to be able to be in this moment for a little longer. You felt embarrassed at his scolding and you wanted to pull away, feeling completely pathetic and childish for your actions. You took a deep breath in again as you continued to lean in, but this time slower, pulling him towards you in the same manner, gentler and he was content with that.

You closed your eyes when your lips brushed his, and he kept them open just before you pressed your lips to his to look at your face. You weren’t scrunching your eyebrows, or grimacing in pain or discomfort, so he knew you were okay right now. He closed his eyes after a second and you just wanted to stay there. Your lips on his, as your palm rested on his cheek, your nails wanting to dig in his flesh to pull him even closer.

You didn’t know if this would feel like this with every man you would kiss later on, you hoped it did. You hoped this wasn’t just happening with Eddie, because he is just a friend. That’s all he was. A friend helping another friend.

You pulled away after another second, dropping your hand from his face and this time you didn’t gaze towards your lap again. You kept staring at his face, waiting for his eyes to open, your chest now burning for the next move. 

His brown eyes connected with yours again, and he smiled reassuringly at you, as if telling you that you were doing good, that everything was fine, and that you were safe with him at this very moment. You took a deep breath in, giving him a small smile in return, feeling your cheeks aching thanks to the amount of blood that is pooled there.

“Alright… Next is the tricky part. I’m going to move my lips against yours this time. When I kiss your top lip, you kiss my bottom lip, and then the other way around.” You know how kissing works, you’re not an idiot. You have done it before just the way he describes it, but the question always lingered if you were any good at it. If you were too pushy, or too soft, or too slow, or too quick. 

You took a deep breath in to brace yourself, and exhaled, giving him a nod for him to continue. Now, Eddie was almost sweating. He didn’t want to feel that way towards you, but he was still a man, and you were beautiful. A very beautiful woman. So of course his body will react, he just has to remind himself that you are just a friend and that you need help. 

And he is just helping. 

He raised both of his hands up this time and your eyes almost went wide when he cupped your face in between them, getting a sense of feeling trapped but in a good way. The coldness of his rings and the warmth of his palms filled you with a sense of peace. You felt safe. You started hearing a buzz in your ears, knowing it was the intense flow of blood that was going all over your body, as the anxiety in your stomach was almost ripping its way out, wanting to break your skin, or wanting to crawl up into your throat. 

“Lean in with me sweetheart.” He commanded and your eyes were burning, your hands moving towards his knees again, trembling fingers finding the skin in the rips of them, your breathing hitching as you both moved towards one another, his fingers softly getting in between your hair, palms on your cheeks still and you closed your eyes.

He took a gulp, closing his eyes right after you, feeling your nails digging into the skin of his knees, softly scratching at him, almost desperately and he didn’t know if you were eager or nervous, but you were leaning in, and that was a good enough sign for him to press his lips against yours again, this time, with more pressure than before.

Your heart soared, beating wildly but not because of complete nervousness or because you wanted to run away from it, but because you were content. Content because you weren’t sweating out of a panic, content because you didn’t feel like fainting, content because the dizziness you were feeling was because of the rush, the adrenaline, the excitement of it all. 

His lips finally moved on yours, and you let your instincts kiss him back, following his lead. He was being gentle, slow, lips between lips and the smacking of them being heard all over the apartment. Your fingers were gripping on his knees as if your life depended on it, to keep you grounded to earth. There was a part of your brain that was telling you that friends shouldn’t do this, that friends do not kiss each other, not even for practice. 

But maybe those thoughts were wrong, because here you were, and Eddie’s self control was slipping. He wanted to move to the next step, but he wanted to properly warn you, he really wanted to, but with the way you were touching him, and the way you were tenderly moving your lips with his, was slowly but surely making him lose his composure of being a good friend. 

He had to be quick then, because you seemed into it, and if you stopped you might become nervous again and it will take more time for you to prepare yourself. He kept moving his lips on yours, your heads moving from side to side and you felt like you were being kissed like they do in the movies. Romantical and gentle. But something was slowly snapping inside of you, something that was clawing its way back in your throat.

More. You wanted more.

He pulled away but his hands were kept in place, his lips remained over yours as the heavy breathing of each other mixed in between you both. You opened your eyes to meet his, and he saw the hazy look in your eyes, the same look he must be having right now, and you might not even know how you are looking at him, but he knows how he is looking at you. And it was different, different than before. Way different.

“I’m gonna go further now, stop me if you’re uncomfortable.” Before you could even formulate any sentence, think of anything at all, his lips crashed against yours, this time, more forcefully than before, and it shot another feeling inside of you. It was something you didn’t experience before, something that made you magnetized to him, and you cannot pinpoint what name to give it.

You moved your lips against his, following his movements, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, gently, asking for entrance. This was the part where your inexperience might show, and you didn’t want to disappoint him, not when he was making you feel like this, not when he was the first person to kiss you like this.

You felt him rub your right cheek gently with his thumb, trying to soothe you down, telling you that you can still stop him. But you wanted anything but that. So despite your guts trying to make you bend over in pain, despite your brain throwing red signs all over to make you run away, and despite your heart beating so fast you were sure he would be able to hear it, you slowly opened your mouth, letting him in.

And he was so grateful for it.

His tongue slowly sneaked in between your lips, meeting with your nervous tongue. He moved, gentle and slow, small swirls which you danced with him harmoniously. He let out a huff of breath through his nose, trying to swallow a grunt because your hands had gone up to grip onto his thighs now, pulling yourself closer to him, and deeper into the kiss.

You were a good kisser, even in your nervousness, even if you told him you didn’t know if you were even doing it right, you smashed all of that in one second. One of his hands went deeper into your scalp, running his fingers through your hair as he felt the temperature of the room start to rise up. Your tongue was magical on him, so tender and delicate, yet he could hear the soft little moans that vibrated in your throat at every harsh movement he did on you. He could feel his pants starting to strain, and he cursed himself for being so easy to rile up, or maybe cursing at himself for wanting to–

The door opening caught both of your attention, your eyes widening as you both pulled away as quickly as you could. Panting heavily as you looked at one another, not even knowing for how long you have been making out with each other. It felt like seconds, but probably minutes had passed. 

“Well, shit, did we interrupt something?” Billy asks with Steve standing next to him with a bag over his shoulder. Your whole body turned red and you squealed as you hid your face in your hands, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole. They saw you. They saw you kissing Eddie. Your friend. Oh god, what will they think? You thought you were an idiot, a very big idiot.

“I uh–” Eddie was at a loss of words and he looked at his friends. He knew you were feeling utterly embarrassed at this moment, so he knew he had to ease the situation up a bit. “We were practicing kissing.” 

And that made you even more embarrassed, your head shooting up to smack Eddie on the arm. Why would he tell them that?! Now they know you have no experience in that department and that Eddie was helping you gain confidence in it. Great. You shook your head, becoming more overwhelmed each second that passed.

“No need to hit me! You are a good kisser, despite what you thought.” Eddie brushed his arm as Billy and Steve walked over to the two of you. You groaned into your hands as you felt the heat of your face transfer onto your palms, and your guts were turning, the feeling of nausea slowly filling your stomach.

“Well, I bet it went better than with Harrington over here.” Billy glared at his friend as Steve blushed all over and pointed at you.

“Dude, she doesn’t need to know about that–”

“Actually…” Eddie begins with an innocent dimpled smile on his face and Steve became red in anger, ready to start going at his best friends but a giggle was heard in the room and they all turned to you.

You were laughing into your hands, and the situation that had mortified you now was making you laugh because of their bantering. They weren’t judging you, not you, nor Eddie because they had been through it. They helped each other out with things that were either weird or too bizarre, yet they did it because they’re friends. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” You say, as you raise your head up again, locking eyes with Eddie who had a playful glint in them and both of you laughed with each other, or at each other, you didn’t know, but just having this moment with him felt nice, it felt as if nothing had changed. No awkwardness, no weirdness, nothing that makes you feel uncomfortable, or him for that matter. 

He was still Eddie, and you were still you.

“Alright, hang on, I have a question.” Steve suddenly says, putting the bag with clothes down. He was still sweaty from work, his hair back with a small half ponytail. Eddie and you stopped laughing and looked at Steve to keep talking. “My question is, are you fine with kissing someone you trust, or are you fine with kissing men in general?” Your smile dropped at that, the thought being processed in your head.

You didn’t even think about that. What if kissing Eddie was easy, or kind of easy, because you trusted him? What if you were able to just because you can confide that part of yourself to him, because he is your friend? Will that happen with the men you meet?

“What Steve is trying to say is that when you go on a date, you don’t trust each other on the first one, but you might kiss, maybe something else.” He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, earning a glare from Eddie’s part, and you gazed away from that dirty joke. 

Steve stood there for a second, thinking and then he took out his phone to open his music player and choose a song from there. ‘Stereo Love’ started sounding from the speakers and you winced at the nostalgia of the song, Eddie chuckling at it and Billy simply rolling his eyes. Steve puts the phone on the coffee table and urges you to get up from the couch. 

“Come on, let’s try something.” And you gave Eddie a confused look before doing as Steve says, following him to the middle of the living room as Billy took your place on the couch, dropping himself on it and grunting in relief. Eddie’s eyes were focused on you as you stood in front of Steve.

“Harrington, what are you–” Eddie tried to talk but he was stopped by one look from Steve. His chest was not liking where this was going but he remained quiet as Steve started swaying side to side.

“Okay, so, I imagine that you go to clubs, and guys approach you, right?” He asks and you look down, playing with your fingers as you talk back to him.

“The girls always pushed them away before they could talk to me.” You reply and Steve only scoffs at that and shakes his head. He dances all around you, on your side, behind you, on the other side, as he talks.

“Well, now you will let them talk to you. He is a complete stranger, just coming right up, dancing, and introducing himself.” He stops right in front of you, with a smirk to his face and your eyes slightly widened as his friendly expressions were exchanged by sultry ones. “Do you like this song?”

“Um, a little old but yes, I do.” You responded to him and he just kept the grin to his face as his movements started making him come closer, and closer to you.

“Hi, I’m Steve.” You were already blushing at the roleplaying but he was right, what will happen when you start trying to date someone? You won’t kiss them on the first date? You won’t show your attraction to them? You won’t make a move? 

“Hi, I’m Angel.” You reply with a small smile on your lips and Eddie’s eyes widened. You were flirting, and you were flirting with Steve with a pet name he gave you, and you only. He gulped heavily as you swayed closer to him.

“That’s a very pretty name, just as gorgeous as the bearer of it.” He winks at you and you almost lose your willpower at that. With Eddie was different, way different. It was a different type of nervousness, a different type of adrenaline, a different type of excitement. This was just nervousness.

So maybe, Steve was right. 

Before you could respond, Steve’s lips crashed onto yours, and Billy was studying your body language. You went rigid, frozen, eyes completely wide at the action. He could see the slight bit of paleness starting to drain your cheeks and he was about to call out Steve to pull away, but then your eyes closed, and your lips moved against his.

You noticed the difference with Eddie’s kiss. With Eddie’s, your mind shut off, didn’t even think about anything else and just let yourself feel, feel him, feel his lips on yours, his skin on yours. And now, Steve’s, you were conscious of how your lips were moving, and wondering if you were causing an impression or not.

Steve pulled away after a few seconds to study your face and do a whole check over, before cheering with delight and clapping for you with pride.

“You kissed me back, you didn’t faint, you flirted with me… Yep, you’re cured honey!” Steve says excitedly and you couldn’t help but feel excited with him. It was a big step, a huge change in your life. Even if the nerves were still there, the anxiety was still deep in your belly, and the thoughts sometimes appeared in your head to speak horrible things to you, you finally didn’t let them control your body.

You were finally cracking your shell open.

And as you cheered, you didn’t notice the pair of brown eyes that were looking at you.

“Munson… You’re going to break the cushion.” Billy says, without even looking at Eddie and the metal head looked down at the cushion of the couch, seeing his fist gripping tightly onto it, almost ripping through the fabric, his knuckles a bright shade of white from how hard he was clenching them, rings digging into his fingers. He also noticed the tense movements on his jaw and he realized that he had been clenching it tightly shut since Steve pressed his lips on yours.

Your lips that had his minutes before. Your tongue that danced with him, your body that touched him, his hands that were on you, your body heat invading his, and his jagged breaths invading your mouth. He had you first. 

You were his, first.

You turned to look at Eddie, with a smile on your face and he tried to return the smile to you, fighting the uncomfortable feeling that was happening in his belly, trying to push away all the negative thoughts, but then he remembered the look in your eyes just before he leaned in to kiss you again. He was looking at you in the exact same way, and hope rose in his chest, because the eyes you were looking at him with, were full of lust.

And you might not even know or realize you were looking at him like that. You probably never once felt lustful towards someone. You probably never had that need of wanting someone so badly that you might explode.

But Eddie, Eddie was feeling it right now. He was feeling it alright, and had been feeling it ever since he saw you in that tight purple dress. He felt it when you smiled at him for the first time on video camera. He felt it when you introduced him to your favorite pizza. He felt it when you beat him up in Mario Kart. He felt it when you had called him beautiful. And now, he felt it when he finally had a taste of you.

Oh how he wanted you. 

Eddie really, absolutely, desperately wanted you.

End of part 4

A/N: I really do hope you all enjoyed this chapter, your comments always make me happy... we can all feel the tension building, can't we? Just a peek, next chapter will be spicy.

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[little-diable]

There's just something about you – Professor!Austin Butler (smut)

Well well well, ofc I {as somebody who has a massive prof!crush} had to give in and write this. I think this has potential for a part 2, so please tell me how you feel about that. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works as Professor Butler's teaching assistant. The two are about to take a trip with his class when she gets sick. While staying with him for the weekend the two finally give in to the pull keeping them chained together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), professor x TA relationship, quite fluffy

Pairing: prof!Austin Butler x fem!TA!reader (3k words)

picture credit to the original owner

“Alright, listen up!“ Professor Butler’s voice echoed through the room. His words were followed by instant silence, forcing all eyes towards the handsome professor. She stood close to him, not enough to feel his body heat clashing against her, though just enough to hyperfocus on the scent of his expensive cologne – a scent she’d always pick up on, no matter where she was at.

“As you all know, we’re leaving for our trip next week. (Y/n) was kind enough to take over the bookings, but we need you to find one or two people to share a room with. Please send (y/n) an email til Monday, so we can avoid any confusion when we check in. If you have any further questions about the trip or concerns, feel free to reach out to one of us.”

She had joined the faculty as Professor Butler’s PhD candidate and teaching assistant a while ago, slowly having to adjust to being around a man like him. At first, (y/n) had struggled to focus, fighting against the urge to stare at him at any given chance, but slowly she had gotten more and more relaxed around him, actually getting to enjoy her interactions with the young professor. 

“Please don’t forget your homework, alright? I’ll see you all next week.” The room was filled with loud noises as he ended the class, forcing the students to their feet and out into the hallway. (Y/n) busied herself with his notes, rechecking them before she allowed her gaze to find his bright eyes. “You did good today, (y/n), if you feel comfortable enough you can gladly do next week’s class on your own.” 

“I don’t think I feel ready to do this without you yet.” His big hand found her shoulder, leaving her torn between focusing on the feeling of his thumb softly stroking the fabric of her blouse, and the intense eye contact he now held with her. For a second, neither of them spoke, leaving (y/n) to wonder what he was thinking about. 

“Alright, but you’re by far better than me at catching their attention, I hope one day you’ll realise that.” Professor Butler’s raspy chuckle had an addicting effect to it, leaving her to avert her gaze as he took a step away from her. “Chinese takeout while we grade the essays?” 

……

She woke with a pained whine as her hand reached for her phone, trying to read the time. It was Saturday morning, two days before they’d go on their short trip, but her body was clearly fighting against all plans, making her suffer from a sore throat and a blocked nose. Curses wanted to claw through her, cursing fate for pushing her into her misery. 

(Y/n) had been looking forward to the trip for a while, excited about spending some more time with Professor Butler outside of his office and the room he was teaching in. Secretly she had hoped for some more calmer moments where they could go back to sharing information about one another that had nothing to do with their research or their university work. Hopes that were now evaporating into nothing but cold air. 

For a moment, (y/n) pondered over her choices, but her fingers had already started to move before her mind could protest, opening the email app. With a few quick words she sent her professor a small warning, telling him that she was sick and would most likely not be able to join on Monday. She felt pathetic for the wave of hurt and exhaustion flushing through her, leaving her trembling body to search the warmth of her bed. 

It didn’t take long for her phone to go off, forcing her glassy eyes to read his reply. Simple words told her to give him a call with his added number to the email. Perhaps it was the fault of her cold, perhaps it was the fault of her hazy thoughts, whatever it was, it stopped (y/n) from overthinking, clicking on the number before her anxiety could get the best of her. 

“Morning, (y/n).” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily letting her eyes flutter close. She repeated the greeting while internally cringing at the raspy sound of her voice. “Oh sweetheart, you sound horrible.”

Heat rose to her face at the pet name, having to forcefully stop herself from gasping. She could only let go of a hum, not trusting herself to speak coherent words he could easily pick up on. 

“Are you still living alone?” A while ago (y/n) had told him about her struggles to find a roommate, unsure who to pick as she had high priorities she didn’t want to let go of. Once again she hummed, wondering where he was taking this conversation. “Alright, I want you to pack a bag. I’ll pick you up in a few, you’re spending the weekend with me, I can’t go on that trip without you. We’ll get you back to your healthy self in no time.”

“Professor,” she sat up as she tried to protest, having to drown out the sinful thoughts instantly flushing through her mind. “I don’t want to take up any of your space, and you could also get sick. I’ll be alright here, don’t worry.”

“No, you’re staying with me. I won’t accept any protests, (y/n). What’s your address?”

It hadn’t taken long for them to end the call, for her to take a quick shower and to pack a bag. Her heart kept racing in her chest, urging her to move, to be smart about the things she packed. She barely got any time to overthink as he had arrived at her place rather quickly, but now as she was sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket, (y/n)’s thoughts finally caught up with her. 

Austin – as he had asked her to call him – was all too gentle with her, tending to her every need with worry tugging on his features. (Y/n) could only guess that she looked as horrible as she felt, tired eyes barely managing to stay open, and yet she didn’t want to miss a thing, cherishing the chance to be so close to him. 

“How about we watch a movie before I make some soup, huh?” Austin plopped down next to her, tugging on her legs to place them in his lap. (Y/n) allowed herself to study him for a few seconds, his blonde hair had that slightly unruly touch to it, blue eyes focusing on his TV. He wore a simple white shirt that perfectly stuck to his muscles, paired with blue jeans that gave him a different touch to the version of him who always wore suits in class. 

“Sure, I’m good with whatever.” He shot her a quick smile that left her trembling, having to calm her racing heart with her grasp on the blanket growing stronger. She barely managed to pay the opening sequence of the movie any attention, getting lost in her thoughts as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her ankle, holding onto her as if he was scared she could slip right through his fingers. 

For the first time in years, she felt an unfamiliar kind of safety wrapping itself around her, clinging to her like a second skin made to protect her, to cherish her, to perhaps even love her. 

……

Quiet steps carried her towards the big kitchen, engulfed in darkness as (y/n) started the kettle, hoping that another cup of tea could finally lull her to sleep. She was too deep in thought to notice his approaching figure, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his naked chest. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” (Y/n) jumped at the sound of his raspy voice, pressing her hand to her chest as she turned towards him. A laugh clawed through Austin, guiding him closer to her with slow steps. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.” 

(Y/n) had to turn from him, trying to focus on the almost boiling water as he came to a halt behind her, reaching for another cup. His naked upper body was pressed against her back, one of his arms found its way around her waist to keep her close to him. Goosebumps covered her limbs, silently whispering to her, guiding her hand to find his. 

No words were spoken between the two as she poured the hot water into the big cups while Austin reached for the teabags. He loosened his hold on her as if he was begging her to turn around, to get lost in the bright eyes that reminded her of warm summer mornings spent at the beach, getting lost in daydreams that felt more real than memories of things she had lived through. Her body urged her to move, to lean against the counter with her eyes finding his features, wandering over his handsome face. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, (y/n)?” She didn’t trust her voice, knowing that she’d most likely make a fool of herself, but the two hands finding her waist, keeping her caged between his tall frame and the counter, encouraged her to part her lips. (Y/n)’s eyes focused on his neck, on the golden necklace he wore, dangling from his neck like a pendulum about to give her a glimpse into her future. 

“I,” a shaky exhale left (y/n), trusting her mind and heart to guide her. “I keep thinking about how comfortable I feel here. Thank you for letting me stay with you, Austin.” 

She expected him to shoot her his signature smile, to pull away from her to reach for his cup. But he kept close to her, hand slowly moving up to her face, cupping her cold cheek. He forced her to look up at him, making her breath hitch in her chest as she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips. 

“I tried to stay away from you, but you’re not making it easy for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) got no chance to reply, silenced by the feeling of his lips finding hers. Ever since she had joined his team, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, wondering how his lips would feel pressed against hers, how he’d hold onto her as they got lost in their kiss. But this was so very different to all these daydreams, more intense, more exciting even. With his hands finding the back of her thighs, he helped her onto the counter, allowing himself to stand between her thighs as they kept kissing. 

“Now you’re definitely getting sick for sure,” (y/n) mumbled the words against his lips as they parted to catch their breaths. Austin’s raspy laugh echoed through the kitchen, bright eyes burning her skin as if she was caught in a wildfire, about to burn to the ground. 

“For you I’ll gladly take on the struggles of being sick.” His words left her heart roaring, lips finding his once again. Their tongues met in a teeth clashing kiss, wordlessly managing to communicate their longing, the desperate need they had fought against these past months. “I need you to be honest with me, do you want this? I don’t want to pressure you, sweetheart.”

“Take me to bed, professor.” (Y/n)’s smirk grew wider as his pupils dilated, picking her up without another warning. She had her legs wrapped around him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Within seconds they found themselves in Austin’s bedroom, he didn’t give her much time to take in the big room, the pictures gracing the walls, fully focused on him as he pressed her down on the mattress. 

Austin kissed his way down her throat as if he was following the trail of a treasure hunt, high on the adrenaline of the search. (Y/n) trembled beneath him while her fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck before moving down to his muscular shoulders. Somehow it felt as if they had done this numerous times before, knowing exactly how and where to touch one another. 

He parted from her to pull her shirt over her head, focus instantly drawn to her naked chest. The way Austin was staring at her made (y/n) feel as if he was marvelling at a masterpiece, a creation of old times the human mind barely managed to understand. Carefully he cupped her breasts, groaning at the feeling of her soft skin pressing against his. They held eye contact as he brought his lips back to her skin, sucking on both nipples before kissing his way down her stomach. 

“Austin,” (y/n) choked on his name, begging him to keep on moving, to touch her where she needed him the most. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart, what do you want?” His voice grew lower with every spoken syllable, pushing heat down to her core. She felt her walls clench around nothing, begging him to finally fuck her. 

“You, all of you. Please, I need you so badly.” Without speaking another word, he ripped her panties from her hips, letting his fingers explore her arousal-covered folds. His name rolled off her tongue, she arched her back at the careful touches, trying to shuffle even closer. Austin could do whatever he wanted to her at that very moment, she was putty in his hands, his to toy with, his to use for his own pleasure. Whatever he wanted, she’d do it, if he kept on touching her like this. 

“Will you let me taste you? I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” (Y/n) could only nod her head, letting go of a breathless gasp the second his rough tongue brushed through her folds. Austin moaned at her taste, he wrapped one arm around her thigh, keeping her pressed to him while the other hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with his fingers. Within the first seconds of him touching her, (y/n) had known that she wouldn’t be able to hold on for long, overstimulated by his touches. 

No longer could she spare her hurting throat any attention, no longer did she struggle to breathe on, all she could do was focus on him, on the way he dipped his tongue into her tightness, how he added more speed to his movements, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“You taste so sweet, I could stay like that forever, if you’ll let me.” She moaned at his praise, fingernails scratching at his skin to try and hold on. Her legs were trembling from the strength she used to curl her toes, unsure how much longer she could stop herself from giving in to an intense orgasm. 

“It’s alright, cum for me, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.” Austin’s words pushed her into the open arms of her orgasm, calling out his name as he kept circling her clit with a smirk glued to his lips. He watched her every move, every micro-expression he could pick up on, fully mesmerised by the beautiful woman he had wanted to pull closer for months. 

“Oh god,” (y/n) panted the words, drawing gleeful chuckles from Austin as he let go of her. Her glassy eyes watched him undress, gaze wandering down his muscular upper body, past his six-pack to his sweatpants. His cock sprang free as he stepped out of his clothes, a sight that pushed heat straight down to her cunt, needing to feel him buried inside of her. “I need you to fuck me now, I can’t wait any longer, Austin.”

“Mhm, such a desperate girl, we should teach you some patience one day.” He reached for a condom, rolled it down his cock and positioned himself between her thighs. With her hand finding the back of his neck, (y/n) pulled him back down for a kiss, distracting herself from the slight pain as he pushed into her, having to adjust to his size. For a second, they held still, clinging to one another to let go of a few deep exhales, fingers interlaced to try and keep themselves grounded. 

“Move, please, professor.” Austin let go of a growl at the use of the title, building a comfortable rhythm that allowed one another to get used to the sensation. He was careful with her, not daring to hurt her when she was still sick, not fully able to guide her body. But the blissful expression tugging on her features was enough to calm his racing heart, finding enjoyment in the way she clung to him, how she seemingly felt the same pull he did.

They were a mess of tangled limbs, of moans blurring together, of hearts beating in sync, a match so perfect neither of them wanted to break out of their very own bubble. Their bodies met with every thrust, bringing them closer and closer together, while their eyes found back together. 

“My pretty girl, I don’t want to let you go again.” He murmured the words against her lips, luring a soft chuckle out of (y/n). 

“Don’t let me go, don’t you dare.” Her head rolled back as his cock nudged her swollen spot, leaving him grinning in success. Austin kept staring down at her, trying to burn every passing second into his mind, praying that he won’t ever forget about this night. 

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock, sweetheart.” With a gasp leaving her, her fingers found her pulsing clit, moving quickly to give her the needed push. He fucked her through her second orgasm, letting go himself as she relaxed beneath him. 

Austin clung to her as they both tried to catch their breaths, only parting as they managed to break through the hazy fog wrapping itself around the two lovers. He threw away the condom before he returned to her, cupping her now warm cheek to pull her in for another kiss. 

“How about a bath?” She could only nod as he picked her up and carried her into his bathroom, while making the silent promise to cherish her for as long as she’ll let him.

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting. 

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there. 

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked. 

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on. 

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice. 

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely. 

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty. 

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.  

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show. 

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward. 

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement. 

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.” 

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you. 

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him. 

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.” 

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good. 

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy. 

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating. 

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall. 

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

 You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process. 

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed. 

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again. 

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared. 

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

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[e-dubbc11]

Ride the Lightning

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader

Warnings: Maybe a swear word or two, confessions of feelings, alluding to smexy time if you squint, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2.4K-ish

Summary: After a cup of coffee and a piece of pie, your quick trip home will conclude by experiencing a thunderstorm down at the beach. Your only wish is you wanted him there with you.

A/N: I know, I know…I said I was putting this out a couple weeks ago but my vacation crept up on me so I’ve been enjoying that. But I do apologize and I hope you like it. Oh! I can’t remember where I saw it but I used the prompt…”You’re the only one I’ll talk to this late at night, ya know that?” I’m sorry I don’t remember where it came from but it’s not mine so all the credit to that person. Lastly, title is a Metallica song

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

While sitting in a cozy little diner with a hot cup of coffee and a piece of pie, a familiar scent drifted past your nose and it was coming from the booth behind you. Notes of musk, leather, and whiskey reminded you of him and a shy smile stretched across your lips as you took a bite of your apple pie.

Nonchalantly, you turned around slowly to see who was behind you while making it look like you were checking the time. Sitting alone, just like you were, was a man peacefully enjoying a cup of coffee and a very early morning, or late night, breakfast. On the floor next to him was a small silver rolling suitcase. The train station wasn’t too far away and you briefly wondered if he was coming or going but the moment passed and your mind drifted to him.

The stranger’s scent spread, almost like a poison, and it was suddenly all you could smell. The bitter coffee mixed with the cinnamon and apples scent disappeared and it felt like he was right next to you again.

But he wasn’t and you missed him.

He wasn’t even yours to miss.

You talked to him quite often, every night in fact, but the last time you saw Dean Winchester was a few months ago. You were helping him on a case on the coast of Oregon, the opposite coast of where you were from and where you were right now. And you remembered your conversation like it just happened a few minutes ago.

“They filmed The Goonies here.” Said Dean with a childlike smile and looking out at the waves crashing onto Cannon Beach.

“Well now there’s a fun fact.” You had said with a warm smile. “It’s beautiful but I think the beaches at home are a lot prettier. Although, I like going down to the beach at night especially during a thunderstorm.” You had replied.

Dean inched closer and turned to face you. Even though he was squinting, you could still see his bright green eyes with flecks of gold reflecting in them from the rare afternoon sun.

“I take in the sights when I can, sweetheart. No beaches in Kansas. And you’re crazy for doing that, ya know. You could get struck by lightning.” He said with a slight smile and a wink.

“You can make a trip home with me and see for yourself.” You said along with a playful hip check.

He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger and replied, “I gotta get back and check on Sam. See how his shoulder is healing.”

You didn’t think he would say yes but you can’t win if you don’t play, right? Any time you had a chance to work a case with Dean Winchester, it didn’t matter where you were, you jumped at that opportunity but it always made you sad when the case was over because you knew it was time to leave.

As you walked back to the cars, you thought about what you had wanted to say to him. You wanted to tell him that there wasn’t a minute during your day where you didn’t think of him and those thoughts continued even when you were asleep, especially after your nightly conversations. What had stopped you was you knew he didn’t feel the same way and you hated to admit that you cried every time you had to drive away from him.

“Always full of excuses.” You had said. “It’s ok, Dean. I know you’ll never take me up on my offer.”

“Hey you don’t know that!” He said with a slight growl and narrowed eyes.

After getting inside your car, you leaned slightly out of the window and replied in a hurt tone, “Yes, I do. See ya around, Dean.”

“I’ll talk to you tonight!” He called out after you.

As you drove away, you caught a glimpse of him in your rearview mirror as he waved goodbye. You waved back with one hand and brushed a tear off of your cheek with the other, not knowing if or when you would see him again.

There was a comfort and a familiarity when you were with him. The serrated edges of your world always seemed to smooth out a little more every time he was around you, almost as if your entire life was made up of broken pieces of glass and you were just trying your hardest not to get cut. The pieces that were once incredibly sharp became dull as soon as his strong arms wrapped around you for a warm hug and you inhaled his intoxicating scent.

The scent you were smelling right now, inside the diner.

But no matter how much you wished he was the one sitting behind you, he wasn’t and he probably never would be.

The quiet little New England town you called “home” was just a quick stop you had to make before moving on to your next case.

And it was perfect timing because there was a thunderstorm rolling in and you had plenty of time to get to your spot to watch it.

**********

The sun had disappeared earlier the previous day behind the smoky gray clouds. The damp thick air surrounded the car as you headed east toward home while low rolls of thunder rumbled in the distance.

It had been threatening to rain all day and the closer you got to home, the more threatening the storm was becoming. And after stopping for a late night piece of pie and a cup of coffee, you quickly headed down to the beach.

Little flashes of lightning briefly lit up the night sky, light rain continued to gently tap against the hood of the car, and as you pulled into the parking lot, a loud clap of thunder erupted overhead and scared you just a little bit.

After closing the car door, you began your short walk up the sand dunes and as soon as you laid eyes on the waves crashing onto the shore, the ominous stormy sky opened up and began to downpour. The humid summer air kept you warm as cool drops of rain pelted against your skin, soaking your clothes and your hair but you were loving every second of it.

The soothing song of the intense waves crashing against the beach put you in a trance-like state. Your eyes were closed while you listened closely to the sea become angrier and angrier as the rain picked up. You slowly opened your eyes in time to see a large crest of white hit the shore at the same time as a loud crack of thunder split the air.

A bolt of lightning lit a path from the clouds down to the water’s surface and you realized that you picked a really good storm to come home for.

You heard another loud rumble but it didn’t sound like a rumble of thunder. It almost sounded like a car exhaust. Great, now you were hearing things. So not only were you always thinking about Dean, you could now add hearing things to the list, even down to Baby’s door squeak.

But you weren’t hearing things.

A loud growling voice boomed from behind you.

“ARE YOU NUTS?!! DO YOU WANNA DIE? What did I tell you about bein’ out here when it’s like this, huh?!” Shouted Dean.

Quickly, you spun around to see his unmistakable silhouette, standing at the top of the dune at the end of the walkway.

“DEAN?!!” You yelled back.

The lights in the parking lot were dimly lit but there was enough light to see the slight smile on his face as he replied, “In the flesh, sweetheart! You happy now? You finally got me to come out here!”

He started toward you with that signature walk, his hair was wet, his black t-shirt soaked and clinging to his body in all the right places.

This was a dream, right?

As he got closer, you asked him, “How? How did you know I was here?!”

Raindrops were bouncing off of his perfect lips as he replied, “Air Tags, y/n. There’s one in your glove compartment.”

“Real creepy, Winchester! Stalkers do shit like that!” You said.

Dean moved closer; you were practically sharing the same air when he softly asked, “You mad about it, sweetheart?”

Biting down on your lower lip, you gently shook your head, never breaking eye contact. He knew what he was doing…damn him.

“Why are you here, Dean?” You asked in a stern tone as your eyes welled with tears.

He delicately reached out and put his hands on your waist. As he gazed down at you with his hypnotizing green eyes, you could see drops of rain in his eyelashes and water dripping from his hair as he replied, “I didn’t get my goodnight phone call.”

“What?!” You replied.

“You didn’t answer your phone earlier. I called three times so I thought something may be wrong but then I checked to see where you were, I knew where you were going and I wasn’t that far away so here I am for our goodnight conversation.” He said, gripping your waist a little tighter now.

You talked to Dean every night or mostly every night before either of you went to sleep and now you were remembering that you left your phone in the car while you were at the diner and it was still in your bag as you were driving down to the beach so you completely forgot about your nightly phone call.

You just really wanted to see this storm.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I completely forgot. I was just so excited about being home for a couple of days and then this thunderstorm. I’m sorry.” You said.

“You’re the only one I’ll talk to this late at night, ya know that?” He said, a little frustrated.

Looking up at him through your dark, wet lashes, you asked, “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re the only one I actually WANT to talk to; you’re the only voice I wanna hear at night before I go to sleep, and I’ve never had an easier time being myself than when I’m on the phone with you. I’m just always afraid of messing things up when we’re together in person. That’s why I always blow you off when you suggest it but I’ll talk to you all day, every day on the phone.” He replied.

“Oh, Dean…I—” You started to say.

“It’s so stupid, I know. But your voice soothes me, it calms me down if I’ve had a long or bad day and your laugh? I think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” He said, interrupting you.

This was one of those moments that you only read about in books. That kind of shit doesn’t happen in real life but right now it was very, very real.

“Well…you’re talking to me now and it’s not weird, right?” You asked.

Dean wiped the rain off of his lips as he replied, “No…I guess not.”

He placed his hand back on your hip and you reached out to wrap his wet t-shirt around your fingers. Echoing above you, the thunder growled low and deep as one of his hands suddenly cupped your cheek, the warmth of his hand mixed with the cool drops of rain caused goosebumps to pepper across your skin.

Your heart was beating hard and fast against your chest as he gently wiped the rain off of your cheek, your legs felt like jelly, and the butterflies in your stomach just fluttered harder, the closer he inched toward your face.

Tugging on his t-shirt, you tilted your chin up so you could meet his gaze and he delicately pressed his lips to yours. You could feel the rain hitting the sensitive skin of your eyelids and dripping down the side of your face as he parted your lips with his tongue, deepening his kiss.

You could hear the heavy rain drops as they pelted against the sand as well as the loud rolling waves slamming against the beach and Dean’s hand delicately swept strands of wet hair away from your face.

The steady sigh of the sea was your background music as his kisses became more insistent, more tongue and teeth that left you gasping against his mouth.

Pulling away from him slightly, you said, “You know how long I’ve waited for you to do that?”

As the tears fell down your cheeks, they mixed with the raindrops hitting your face and Dean did his best to wipe them away.

“I should have done it sooner, sweetheart.” He replied. “So, you done trying to kill us out here?”

The turbulent surf crashed against the large rock wall; the taste of the salty sea breeze along with the rain mixed together on your tongue, and you took another look at the threatening beauty of the hungry sea before turning back to face him.

“You’re taller than me so the lightning would only hit you, ya know.” You replied, snaking your arms around his neck.

Dean gave you a smirk as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Not if my lips are attached to yours.” He purred into your ear before his lips collided with yours once again.

There wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t soaking wet but as you clenched your thighs together, the wet spot on your panties wasn’t because of the rain.

“Sooooo…you wanna go get out of these wet clothes? The motel is right across the street.” You said, biting down on your lower lip.

With a sly smile, he replied, “I’ll follow you, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

Curled up next to him with your hand resting on his chest, the leftover winds from the storm blew past the open windows and caused the curtains to sway. Your eyelids were heavy, begging for relief, silently telling you to just let yourself fall asleep but you couldn’t stop looking at his handsome face.

Dean’s hand was encased over yours as he slept and before you gave in to the sleep your body was desperately asking for, you delicately pressed your lips to his cheek and smiled against his warm skin.

“G’night, Dean.” You whispered.

You had no idea what this would turn into, if anything, but you had to try.

Ride the lightning.

Lay out all your cards and love him more than anyone ever has because he deserves it…and so do you.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @vaguekayla @stoneyggirl2

Others that might enjoy: @fluffyprettykitty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @k-marzolf @jvanilly @deans-spinster-witch @savorxe @delightfull999

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[celestial-grls]

Party 4 You - Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you decide to go out with the women's basketball team and a certain member has always confused you - before now word count: 2.9k a/n: fav concept ever is #partypaige...title inspired by the best Charli XCX song ever. please leave comments / reblog if you liked this ok mwah <33

"It's my job that you come out with us tonight." A very out-of-breath KK Arnold informed you on the phone about her new job. 

"KK, did you just finish practice? Why are you out of breath?" You'd started an internship about two weeks ago, and when you agreed to take it, no one warned you that interning meant piling on a ton of work that no one else wanted to do. It'd felt awful to be holed up inside, spending nights hunched over a computer when everyone else was only getting their summer started. 

"Was just playing pick up with Paige and Ice," KK sighed, "So, did you make up your mind yet?" 

"Ugh, I don't know. There's a ton of stuff missing in some of these documents they want me to edit. I still haven't even thought about what I'd wear if I did go out tonight—" You rambled on, pacing around your desk before KK interrupted. 

"I already know you got something in that never-ending closet of yours. Does that mean you'll come out tonight?" An air of hope in KK's voice made you pause to consider it. 

You mindlessly wandered all the way to your closet while you were on the phone with KK. Maybe it was a sign that your brand-new skirt was hanging on the door handle, begging to be taken out for a spin. You told KK, "Okay, I'll be there. But please, promise we will keep it contained, nothing crazy?" 

KK let out a scream that made you rip the phone away from your ear before she started laughing and said, "Come by later to pregame! Bye, Pookie!" 

You laughed at her excitement, "Bye, KK!" 

The going-out section of your closet only served as a reminder of how crazy going out with some women's basketball team members can get. Between their boundless energy, how they seem to know everyone (including bartenders), and how they attract a crowd everywhere they go, there is no telling where the night can go once you join them. 

You met KK when you partnered up in your communications class and immediately found her hilarious. Plus, it didn't hurt that she always got you better seats than the student section during basketball games. You knew that going out tonight meant you were going to see Paige, so it was crucial to keep yourself in check. 

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

Paige and Ice took a water break while KK finished her phone call with you. 

"So Y/N's coming tonight?" Paige asked in confirmation. 

KK teased, "Why? So you can stare at her from a corner all night?" 

Ice added, "No, for real. Poor girl probably thinks you hate her." 

Paige interjects, "Alright, alright. We've talked to each other before. Y'all just don't wanna remember it." 

KK scoffs, "Girl, boo. Asking what her major is doesn't count. Especially because I already told you what it was before." 

They all gathered their things while Paige advocated for herself, "Y'all really have no faith in me, huh? Trust, it'll be a different story when I come by later." 

KK and Ice mumbled a combination of 'Yeah, sure' and 'Uh huh' before heading toward their building while Paige walked alone to hers. The truth was that she was a nervous wreck around you and always has been ever since KK and you became friends. 

It was one of those things that no one but Paige understood. She was her confident, relaxed self around her friends, in a stadium full of fans, even at events she would've never believed she'd find herself in. She got it in her head that maybe you didn't like her very much. Not because you were standoffish, you were actually the opposite. Paige never felt that you liked her enough to be around her alone. They were always in groups with their respective friends.

At first, none of her friends caught on to her little crush; she tried to keep it discreet. It was going well until you came over to watch movies and see them fight over the Xbox controller in a pair of striped sleep shorts and a UConn hoodie, and she officially became a goner. Sitting four feet away from you while you looked like that and periodically pushing your glasses up made her sweat from her palms and make her think up an excuse for leaving movie night early. 

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

Ice's apartment was filled with chatter, and Paige's pregame playlist came from the speakers. Everyone's shot glasses were haphazardly crowded on the table while some girls mixed drinks. 

You adjusted the bottle of Tito's in the crook of your arm before knocking on the door. When Ice answered the door, you could already tell you needed to catch up with everyone. She immediately wrapped you up in a hug and excitedly screamed, "We missed you, Pookie! And you came prepared." 

"I always do," You told her as she took the vodka from you so that you could adequately say hi to everyone. 

It was a natural relief to finally have a night out with friends, and any thoughts about work or deadlines didn't even cross my mind when I got to Ice's. 

KK must've been just as relieved to see you because she said, "Y/N, finally, someone who can make a mixed drink. I can't drink any of Paige's mid-ass drinks anymore." 

Paige looked offended and told her, "Call them mid, but they get it done." 

It's not like you received any formal mixologist training or bartending experience, but making drinks became your specialty whenever you went out. You got straight to work making KK her favorite drink and handing it to her. 

KK graciously sipped it and said it tasted "Perfect, as always." 

You turned around to see Paige standing empty-handed and decided to ask, "Want me to make you something?" 

Your pretenses were completely innocent, but how you softly smiled and batted your eyelashes made Paige's heart jump. Plus, she'd only heard five-star reviews about your drinks, so she couldn't refuse anyway. Once she gave you the okay, she was gearing up to ask you where you learned to make drinks like that until KK interjected, already half her drink downed. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. She's not picky."

You were done with the drink and ran to the fridge, your little heels clacking on the wooden floor, to grab the jar of maraschino cherries. When you topped off Paige's drink and handed it to her, you shrugged, "I have a feeling she'll like it." 

There it was again—your self-assuredness and complete ease in any situation made Paige feel weak and wobbly around you. The shiny red cherry on top, matching the shiny coat of lip gloss you were sporting, didn't make it any easier for her. 

She usually hates anything that tastes like alcohol, so whatever you made her was incredible. "This is fire. What is it?"

"A dirty Shirley. You like?" You stood looking up at her, hoping the drink could be a peace offering or a way to make Paige like you a little more. You never knew why she seemed more reserved or conscious around you, but you knew it always drove you crazy. 

"These are dangerous." Paige concluded with approval, and KK said, "Told you." 

After everyone was tipsy enough and you caught up with what some girls had been up to in the last couple of weeks, it was time to get into the Uber to start your night. Time collapsed into a whizz of final lip touch-ups, shuffling clumsy bodies into one car and waiting in anticipation to let loose. 

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

There was a corner of the bar with a karaoke machine that KK and Paige excitedly ran over to like it was a toy. Everyone downed the shots you bought and got ready to hear their performance. They did their best rendition of 'Kiss Me More' and sounded nothing like SZA or Doja Cat, but since everyone was tipsy, they danced anyway. Paige and KK looked right at home, singing with their arms wrapped around each other and sassily dancing whenever they caught Ice or Azzi filming them. 

When they finished, your little group applauded their effort, and Paige unexpectedly took her place next to you and Azzi. She looked a little smug, sipping the drink in her cup with her other hand resting in her pocket. 

Azzi piped up, "Tone deaf and singing Doja Cat is crazy." 

Paige scoffed, "Alright, Azzi, I don't remember asking." Azzi and Ice got up to sing next, and Paige shifted closer to you. 

Emboldened by the drinks, she nods at you and says, "I like this skirt on you." 

You feel it in your face first, flushing from having her eyes on you. You played it cool and told her, "Thank you, the skirt likes you, too." As you said it, you didn't exactly know what it meant, but it made sense in your drunk brain. 

She laughs and nervously twists the bracelet on her wrist. "So what'd you think of my singing?"

You pretend to think about it, "You ball better than you sing." 

Azzi and Ice are making an Usher song into a duo. You sip on your drink while taking a video of them that they'll definitely be humiliated by tomorrow. 

Paige looks at you and asks, "Oh, so you've noticed?" 

You don't know where this confidence came from. Usually, Paige avoids you whenever you're out. You figure it's because she's been drinking and having fun after an intense season. You're suspicious of it, but you like this version of her. "You know I come to games." 

"Haven't seen you in a minute, though. You been busy?" 

You repeat what she said right back to her, "Oh, so you've noticed?" 

Paige laughs, touching your arm and lingering near your elbow. "I'm being for real. What you been up to?" 

Her touch makes you feel dizzy, going straight to your distracted brain while you try to find an answer for her. "Got an internship, and they're already overworking me." Before Paige can respond, you shift closer to her to ask, "Can I ask you something, Paige?" 

She steadies her eyes on you and says, "Sure, what's on your mind?" 

You start, "I don't know…Normally, you don't talk to me much." You kept it lighthearted, teasingly asking, "Am I that scary?" 

Paige looks down at her sneakers, "Nah, not too scary." She added, "M'glad you came, though." 

You looked up at her as she wet her lips and said, "I'm glad I came, too." 

When Ice and Azzi finished singing, they were exhausted from exerting so much effort. You rounded everyone up and announced, "Everyone's gotta do a shot, I'm buying!" 

After another round of green tea shots, all hopes for a contained and calm night went out the window. Some girls broke off into different groups inside the bar as they ran into different acquaintances and friends. There was even more karaoke, only getting slightly sloppier and more tone-deaf with time. Sometime between you dancing behind the DJ table and your third drink, your exchange with Paige from earlier caught up to you. 

You couldn't even precisely identify what you were feeling at the moment. You thought Paige was indifferent toward you, or at least not keen on getting to know you beyond being KK's friend. But when you remembered the feeling of her fingers grazing your arm, you felt confused by it. Suddenly, an emotional wobbliness started to creep up on you, and your next instinct was telling you to duck outside for a minute. You handed your drink to Azzi and told her you needed some air and would be right back. 

It was cool enough outside to wrap your arms around yourself comfortably as you stood with your back against the wall. When you leaned your head back to close your eyes and take a breath, you tried to collect your thoughts. It was bouncing around a few things: deciding what to doordash later when you got home, mentally writing a small to-do list of internship work, and Paige. 

You thought about how her hands looked around the drink you made her at the pregame, her long legs in a pair of cargos you liked on her, how she sounded so sincere when she told you she was glad you came. It was a lot, and your brain would overheat if you didn't duck out when you did. You were so startled when all you heard was, "Hey," coming from somewhere on your left. 

It was just Paige, who currently had her hands on your shoulders after you almost jumped out of your skin at someone coming up to you. She apologized profusely before she said, "Wanted to see if you were good." 

Your eyes soften at this. You forget that you were concentrating so hard on your shoes that you were about to burn a hole in them. It was replaced by Paige's presence, comforted automatically by her taller frame blocking out the view of the street at night. 

You straightened up, adjusting the purse she was touching on your shoulder, and evening your voice enough to say, "I'm good; I just needed a second." 

Paige looked down and nodded, "Good, good. DJ booth looked empty without you dancing." 

You shook your head and laughed, "Been a minute since I could dance until my feet hurt." 

"You think you'll feel it tomorrow?" With how Paige looked at you, you thought she was much more sober than you probably were. 

You shrug, eyes feeling heavy as you lean into the wall, "Think we all will." 

Right as you say that, all the rest of your friends start shuffling out. They were clearly tired. You remember they all decided to play an entire pick-up game earlier and announced they were ready to call it a night. No one disagreed. All of you had fun, but it was time for the drunk food and pajamas part of the night. 

Paige urgently needed to spend more time with you. One of those game-time decisions seemed to come out of nowhere when she said, "Y/N and I should take a separate one since our buildings are close together and everything." 

Thankfully, all your friends were gone enough to not question it and felt safe in knowing it was best everyone went home in a group instead of alone this late. It sounded sensical to you, even though you hadn't remembered that you and Paige lived in neighboring apartment buildings. But then again, you haven't been anywhere but work or home, which felt like forever, so maybe you hadn't noticed. 

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

Something about being in this car in the backseat with Paige felt right. She spread out in the back while you crossed your leg, shifting your weight so the tip of your shoe would brush against her leg whenever the car stopped. 

It was a short ride from the last bar your friends hit to your apartment building. There were hardly any red lights, but you wished for at least one or two more. 

You turned to question Paige, "I didn't know you lived close to my building." 

She pressed her lips together, "KK didn't mention it?" 

You shook your head, more wide-eyed now that you sobered up.

Paige added, "I got a bigger place after the last semester ended." 

You nodded and teased, "Okay, big baller, I see you." 

Paige snickered and thanked the driver while you guys got out. She walked you into your building and even rode the elevator with you. When you asked what she had planned for the night, she mentioned some Advil and a big glass of water. When she asked you the same question, you told her about door-dashing some Taco Bell and taking your makeup off. 

She felt like you guys made it to your door too soon. You each stopped before it as you fished for your keys inside your purse. When you turned to tell her, "Thanks for walking with me. Text me when you get to your building."

Paige got that look again as if she was about to say something to you, the same one she made when you plopped the maraschino cherry into her pregame drink. She scratched the back of her neck, "S'no problem. And I will." 

You said, "Night, Paige." as you leaned against the door frame and kicked your heels off into a corner, shrinking in height and making Paige even taller than you for a moment. 

She paused to tell you, "Night, Y/N."

When you changed into your pajamas and got your cotton pads out to remove your makeup, your phone chimed with a text from Paige that read: Home. Remember to take that makeup off

You loved the message and wrote back: Doing it right now. Drink a glass of water for me!

You knew Paige had to go through group chats with all the girls in it to select your contact and text you personally since you guys had never texted each other before. It felt like too much to process in your state, and you thought it best to deal with it tomorrow. When you went to hang up your skirt, you ran your fingers over the fabric and silently thanked it for whatever magic it might've done for you tonight. 

[cheynovak]

Fevered Confessions part 3

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N got hurt during a mission with Soldier boy, Ben feels guilty and tries to take care of her. But the fever makes her believe she is imagining it.

Warnings: Mentioning of fever/wounds/ fighting/... -> 18+ later on in the series.

English isn't my first language.

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

**Y/N’s POV**

Weeks passed, and Ben started to change. Or maybe… this was who he really was.

At first, he was patient with me. Attentive. He’d cook—nothing fancy, but he made sure I ate. He’d check my wound, sit with me on the porch when I felt too weak to do much else. Sometimes, I’d catch him watching me with something unreadable in his eyes, something that made my stomach flip.

But whenever Annie or M.M. visited, something in him shut down. He’d withdraw, get colder. Sometimes, he’d leave the room entirely. I didn’t understand why.

This morning, I woke up to raised voices, the unmistakable sharpness of an argument.

I sat up slowly, still groggy, and strained to listen.

Annie. And Ben.

“You need to stop lying to her, Ben!” Annie’s voice was angry, but there was something else—desperation? “Stop pretending this is her happy ending when *you’re* the reason she got hurt in the first place.”

Silence.

My breath caught in my throat.

Ben is the reason I got hurt

I swung my legs over the bed, my heart pounding. I didn’t understand. What had happened? I thought this—whatever this was—was real. But if he’d lied about something, if he’d done something…

I stood up too fast, dizziness washing over me. I steadied myself against the wall, then forced my feet forward, following the voices.

I needed answers.

I walked to the top of the stairs, lingering just out of sight, my fingers gripping the railing as their words sank in.

Ben’s voice was sharp, angry. “You weren’t there, Annie! You don’t get to tell me what the hell I should do.”

“I know enough,” she shot back, venom in her voice. “She hated you, Ben. Hated you. And now you’re letting her believe you two are a thing? Now you’re taking advantage of her situation?”

My breath caught in my throat.

I hated him?

My stomach twisted. This feeling, this… pull toward him, was that real? Or was I clinging to him because I had nothing else?

Ben let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Christ on a fucking cross, she sleeps in a different room, Annie. Back off.”

I took a step forward, the floorboard beneath my foot creaking softly.

Both heads snapped toward me.

Annie looked guilty, like she’d been caught saying something she shouldn’t. Ben just looked… furious. But when his eyes met mine, something else flickered there. Panic.

I swallowed hard.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice quiet but firm.

I needed to know the truth. Now.

**Ben’s POV**

Y/N stood there at the top of the stairs, watching us, her eyes sharp despite the confusion. She was almost fully recovered physically, but her memories were still a blank slate.

She’d been trying to figure out what we were for weeks. I felt her frustration every time she looked at me like she was searching for something—an answer, a feeling, a reason.

She saw me for a far better man than I was, and I didn't want to break that bubble. I’d been trying like hell to stay away. For her own good.

I knew she wanted me close. I saw it in the way she gravitated toward me, in the way her face had fallen when she realized the marriage thing was a lie—just something I made up so I could be with her in the hospital. That moment had broken something inside her. And maybe inside me, too.

I exhaled sharply, forcing the walls back up. This is for the best.

“Get back to bed,” I ordered, my voice firm. She crossed her arms. “I’m not a kid, Ben. If you two are talking about me, just say so.”

Annie stepped closer to her, softening her voice. “We’re just worried. You’ve… changed.”

Y/N’s brows pulled together. “How?”

Annie sighed and turned to face her fully. “You hated him,” she said carefully. “You and Ben—God, you two couldn’t be in the same room without fighting.”

Y/N lowered her gaze to the floor, her expression unreadable.

I tensed, waiting for her to run, to agree, to remember. But she didn’t. She just stood there. Silent. Thinking, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted her to remember the truth… or stay lost in the lie.

**Y/N’s POV**

I stood in the living room now, fully awake, fully aware of the tension in the air. Annie looked at me like I was some lost cause, and Ben… he was watching me with that same guarded expression he always had, like he was bracing for impact.

“Well,” I said finally, meeting Annie’s gaze. “Maybe that was the past. But I can’t say I feel the same way now.”

Annie’s eyes widened, and then she started rambling—about how dangerous he was, how he’d killed people, how I couldn’t just ignore that.

I knew. Or at least, I’d figured it out.

The way Ben carried himself, the anger simmering beneath the surface, the way he reacted to loud noises or sudden movements—it all made sense. I’d watched a movie a few nights ago, something about soldiers returning from war, and I saw it in him. The way they clenched their fists, the way their eyes darted to exits, how easily they snapped when pushed.

Ben had the same anger issues. The same haunted look.

I raised my hand, cutting Annie off. “I feel safe with him, Annie,” I said firmly. “I trust him.”

Annie’s jaw clenched. “Y/N—”

“And maybe,” I continued, “maybe losing my memories makes me see him for the first time.”

Annie scoffed, throwing her hands up. “Oh Jesus, Y/N. He has you rainwashed.” I frowned. Was that what this was? No a refused to believe that.

I turned to Ben, searching his face for some kind of answer. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Annie, his jaw tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

He looked furious. But beneath that anger, there was something else. Guilt.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said, my voice steady as I looked at Ben.

“What?” Annie snapped. “No!”

Before I could respond, Ben stepped between us, his presence solid, unmovable. “You heard her,” he said coldly. “Go.”

Annie’s eyes darted between us, frustration clear on her face. But eventually, she moved toward the door.

She hesitated, her hand on the doorknob, and turned back one last time.

“When your little house on the prairie dream collapses and you see him for what he really is, call me.” Her voice was softer now, like she truly believed I’d regret this.

I didn’t answer.

I just stood there, watching her look past Ben—past his broad shoulders, past his protective stance—to me.

Then she was gone. The door clicked shut.

The moment she left, the weight of it all hit me, and my head dropped forward, resting lightly against Ben’s back. I felt the tension in his muscles, the barely-contained anger still simmering beneath his skin.

Without thinking, my arm moved around him, my hand settling against his stomach. He was warm, solid. Safe.

He didn’t move. Didn’t push me away. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing, steady and deep.

I should be questioning everything. But standing there, my body leaning against his, all I could think was—

I didn’t regret this.

**Ben’s POV**

I let myself feel it for just a second—her warmth against my back, her small hand pressed against my stomach, the way she trusted me without question.

Then I did what I always did. I pulled away. I had to.

I carefully lifted her hand off my body, stepping forward, creating distance between us. I couldn’t let her touch me like that. Not when I knew the truth.

Annie was right, in a way.

I wasn’t honest with Y/N. Not entirely. But she hadn’t asked, and she seemed fine with the life I built for her.

And that made me selfish. I knew it. But I didn’t care.

She believed in the life I created because she didn’t know better. And I liked that. I liked having her close, waking up to her voice in the morning, the way she always reached for me when she was unsure.

She looked up at me with those doe eyes, and something in my chest ached when I stepped away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her lashes fluttered, and I saw the tears gathering in her eyes.

“I just…” Her throat bobbed, like she was about to say something important. Something that could change everything.

But then she shook her head. “Never mind.” She turned and walked toward the porch, I had no idea whether to let her go… or stop her.

**Y/N’s POV**

I tried.

I tried to tell him what he meant to me, but the words felt stupid. Too big, too heavy. So I did what he always did.

I ran.

I sat outside for what felt like hours, wrapped in silence, staring at the wide-open field in front of me.

Eventually, I heard him. Ben sat down beside me, saying nothing, just watching the trees sway in the wind.

I let the silence hang for a moment before speaking.

“Even though I’m the one who supposedly hates you,” I said, still looking forward, “you sure as hell don’t seem to like me that much either.”

He didn’t answer.

So I kept going.

“I don’t get it. You stayed with me at the hospital, claiming to be my husband.” My voice was steady, but my chest ached. “Then you brought me here. And clearly, I’ve figured out this isn’t our original home.”

Ben remained silent.

“You keep things from me. I know it’s to protect me from my past, and I’m not even asking you to spill it all.” I turned to him now, searching his face. He still wouldn’t look at me.

“But whenever I try to be close to you, you push me away.”

Nothing.

My stomach tightened. I inhaled deeply and finally asked the question that had been clawing at me for weeks.

“What do you want from me, Ben?”

Silence.

I nodded, lips pressing together. I stood up, my body heavy with disappointment. I turned toward the door, ready to walk away—

And then I felt him.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, firm but not rough. I barely had time to react before he pulled me back, turning me into him, crashing me against his chest.

And then—

He kissed me.

**Ben’s POV**

I lost control.

I should’ve said something—anything. But instead, I kissed her.

And God—it felt like a goddamn crack addict giving in to his fix. She was my drug. Her lips, soft and warm, tasted sweeter than I ever imagined. And the way she moaned against my mouth? It set my whole body on fire.

She didn’t pull away. No—she pulled me in. Not soft. Not tentative. Needy.

Like she needed me as much as I needed her.

Her fingers curled into my shirt, gripping me tight, like she was afraid I’d disappear. I pressed her back against the wall, caging her in, my hands greedy—trailing up her sides, her ribs, her waist.

She was mine.

At least in this moment.

And I wasn’t strong enough to stop.

--

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[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 1: ♪All I've ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

A/n: It's here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I've ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (no smut until part 2 but i swear it's worth the backstory!!!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: The story starts with Part 1 where afab!Y/N is a child and Joel is her new stepdad and this story explores their relationship. Themes of abusive family, domestic violence, child abuse, daddy issues, physical violence, murder, stepcest (kinda b/c he is divorced from her mom technically but she grew up with him as her stepdad), infidelity, age gap, and more are explored throughout the fic. PLEASE READ SPECIFIC TAGS (part 2 tags will be added with the release of part 2). Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier. NOTHING SEXUAL OCCURS BETWEEN Y/N and JOEL until Y/N is 20!!!!!!! Also check out this playlist of music that's in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, stepdad!joel, mechanic!joel, convict!joel, no apocalypse au, Mentions of sex (little detail), mentions of male masturbation, infidelity, domestic abuse/violence, sibling abuse/violence (no one ever talks about sibling abuse but it’s very real), physical child abuse, neglect, allusions to past domestic violence, cursing, brief mention of pedophilia and kidnapping (David), allusions to committing future pedophilia (David), threats, cancer mention, Sarah death discussion, Tommy death mention, murder, prison, mentions of god and religion, fights, general violence, alcohol consumption, using music lyrics to move the plot, daddy issues, use of y/n

Word Count: ~15k

PART 2 (coming soon)

Ao3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

Joel Miller is not a good man, that he knows like the backs of his calloused hands. 

He knows loss too, feels it burrowed in the hollow cavity of his chest. Sees it in the face of every little girl he meets. 

The memories sting. 

He knows pain, deep in the depths of his character, down to the fundamentals of what makes him something that resembles a human being. The belts, the bigger hands, the harsh words, and then the grief. The recent Bring back my babygirl! The ancient ¡Basta, Papí, por favor, no Tommy, no Mamá! ¡Por favor no esta noche! The indignity of begging, always reduced to begging to a cruel man, an indifferent doctor, a cruel universe. 

He knows hard work, how to work with his hands. He knows the grit and grease of labor. Sees the cogs turning in the engines he fixes, relates to them. Feels like he knows them intimately because he is one too, chugging along day after endless day. But no one dares fix Joel Miller.

Until…

Her name is Erica and she’d like her front bumper replaced, please. She has long eyelashes and a soothing voice. And she has money too, at least more than he, who is almost broke from the cost of Sarah’s medical bills. She comes with baggage, Joel can tell from looking into her eyes, but then again so does he. And he hasn’t been laid in god knows how long. 

She takes him on a date and he lets her. She reveals she has two kids, but Joel doesn’t care. They fuck at her place while the kids are at school and she wants it soft, like her hands, and that’s how Joel gives it to her. 

A week later, Joel has moved in, which is good because his rent was due and he couldn’t pay it. He still hasn’t met the children.

***

It’s Joel’s day off and he’s sitting on the couch in his new home. His back hurts, but that’s nothing new. He’s got an excellent view of their nice, big backyard with a wooden fence. The kind of home he would have liked to have given Sarah. He sighs. Technically, nothing is wrong.

Then he sees it. It takes him a second to realize what is going on. It’s a whirlwind. He sees the back gate open and two tumbling forms fall over the threshold onto the manicured grass. One form is bigger, a boy of about twelve or thirteen beating the shit out of a much smaller form, fists flying. The other form is a little girl, no more than eight, defending herself like her life depends on it. Perhaps it does with the way he’s going at her. 

This must be the son, Aiden, and the daughter, Y/N. 

He’s a good boy, really, but he has anger issues sometimes. He’s been through a lot. That’s what Erica said, but Joel does not see a good boy. He sees a bully. A disproportionately violent one at that. Nothing that tiny girl could have possibly done could warrant the brutality he sees before him. 

Anger is something else Joel knows intimately, and that is what he greets when he runs outside to end the fray.

“Stop that!” he roars, pulling Aiden off of Y/N.

“Who the fuck are you!?” the boy screams, fury and hatred radiating off of his entire being. 

He continues thrashing and punching at nothing as Joel restrains him.

“I’m gonna kill her!” he screams, his eyes bulging.

“What the hell happened?” Joel growls, still holding onto the livid boy–verging on young man. 

“She ripped up my paper!” he bellows. “For no fucking reason! I worked hard on it!”

“It was a lie,” she says with so much conviction Joel almost flinches.

He looks down at the little girl, her nose bleeding, her right eye turning purple. She has tears streaked down her face, but she is not crying. Her shirt is ripped. The first thing he thinks of when he sees her is Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah, how could he not think of her? But this little girl is different, has a different look in her eye. This look is much harder and feels like she’s lived a thousand lifetimes. He thanks god Sarah never looked that way, but somehow he wants to hear about everything this little girl has experienced. Something twangs in Joel’s chest that he has not felt in what feels like an eternity. 

“It was not a lie, you stupid bitch whore!” Aiden shouts angrily, still fighting back against Joel’s unrelenting grip. “Take that back!”  

“No, you take it back! Dad is not a hero. You could’ve picked anyone to write about and you choose him? After everything he’s done?” she screams herself.

The sound of her voice is powerful but desperate. Joel feels himself needing to know more and bury himself deep inside her experiences.

“SHUT UP!” Aiden yells, finally ceasing his movements. 

A tear falls from his cheek. 

“If I let you go, will you stop whooping your sister?” Joel snaps firmly.

“Get away from me, you stupid cuck!” Aiden curses, turning his energy to Joel. “Who the hell are you to me? Fuck you! I’m out of here!”

He wriggles out of Joel’s grasp and Joel lets him go and Aiden storms back out the rear gate, slamming it behind him.

“You alright?” he asks Y/N.

Joel crawls over on his knees, still upright, closer to her. 

“Had worse,” she shrugs, running a hand through her messed-up hair. 

She wipes the tears and blood from her cheeks.

Joel shudders to imagine what she means.

“He always like that?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “So you Mom’s new boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” he nods back. ”’M Joel. Joel Miller.”

“I’m Y/N,” she says a bit mournfully. “Here,” she continues suddenly, reaching out a small hand to his cheek. She wipes blood (hers) gently off his stubbly face. “Didn’t mean to get ya dirty.”

Joel is nothing short of touched. He wasn’t even aware he could still have such a feeling. His cheeks go rosy pink. His heart pulses. He stares at her delicate hands and notices a long, thin scar on her left middle finger. 

“‘S no trouble, sweetheart,” he hears himself reassuring her. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Could even mend your shirt if ya want. Know how to sew and all.”

He reaches out a large hand, but she flinches at the sudden movement. A dull ache wells up in Joel’s chest. 

“Not gonna hurt you, honey. Swear it.” 

He wants with every fiber of his being for her to believe him, for it to be true. 

She takes his hand.

***

That evening Erica is still not home, working late Joel supposes. It is nine o’clock when Aiden slinks back into the house.

Joel stops him from making his way up the stairs. He is more than familiar with the art of creeping.

“Think you oughta apologize to your sister,” he says as gently as possible. Maybe he can impart some manners onto this unruly child now that he’s calmed down some. “You beat her real bad. You’re much bigger than her.”

“I’d do it again,” Aiden hisses, his eyes cold. “It makes me feel better.”

And then, to Joel, the answer is simple. What do you do with a bully who won’t repent? Fight him back. Show him who’s boss, who’s bigger.

He grabs Aiden by the arm in a flash of anger and drags him up the stairs. The boy screams and flails, but that doesn’t deter Joel. He brings him to the room he assumes is his, the walls covered in sports posters and memorabilia.

“Take off your shirt,” he growls, a familiar fury pounding inside his chest.

When Aiden protests, Joel does it for him, ripping the kid’s shirt nearly in half. Rage floods through Joel’s veins and he can’t exactly place why, but the feeling is very real and bouldering through him at an alarming speed. He knows this feeling, feels strangely at home there.

He undoes his belt and brings the leather end down on Aiden’s back, not the buckle like his father used to do. Joel does have some decency buried deep in his chest. And then he loses himself to the unyielding anger.

“You get ten,” he snarls. “Don’t you lay a hand on your sister again. Is that understood? Now you answer to me.”

No response except for a scream.

“I said , do you understand?” Joel roars, bringing down the belt.

Rage consumes him like a drug. He barely registers what he’s doing. The belt goes down again and again. And somehow, through the screaming and the pain, and the intoxicating feeling of being completely in control for once, Joel’s line of vision wanders to the bedroom door. In all the excitement, it was left ajar and out in the hallway, sitting on her knees is Y/N. Joel immediately expects fear, despair, revulsion. When Tommy would watch him take a beating his face would betray the most acute sense of hopelessness and terror and the waterworks would begin. But Y/N just stares at him unflinchingly, at what he’s doing. She doesn’t cry, she simply sees. Too much for a child, and yet, she watches. She does not intervene, doesn’t even try to. And for the tiniest moment, her and Joel’s eyes connect, and he feels a sense of calm, of comprehension, of recognition in that uncannily knowing gaze. Her irises sparkle and Joel feels…something that he cannot entirely articulate. Seen? Accepted? Understood? Joel knows logically what he is doing is an ugly, vile thing — he has never claimed to be a good man. Practical maybe, but never good. And yet, Y/N sees it — sees him — and she doesn’t look away. She cocks her head slightly, and images of Tommy grimacing in revulsion and fear as Joel mercilessly beat up their childhood neighborhood bullies to the point of unconsciousness pop into his mind, of the haunting look in his brother’s eyes. Even Sarah could not stomach his violent heart when she witnessed him beat up some pervert with a camera that had looked at her funny at the mall. Even though it was for her — to keep her safe. She had stared at him in disgust and pity. She had not seen him then at all.

But now, looking at Y/N, for the briefest moment, Joel can swear he sees something resembling a smile flicker over her serious face. And though it goes as quickly as it comes, he feels the familiar sensation gnawing at the bottom of his stomach: primal and untameable, soft and vulnerable, but fierce and loud at the same time. He feels an inexorable, inescapable sense of care and devotion to this child. But most of all, because she sees him, truly sees him, and does not turn away in disgust, Joel Miller feels the gut-wrenching, unquenchable sensation of love deep in his chest. For the first time since Sarah died on that hospital bed, weak and unwell from the chemo he could not afford, he feels alive . 

***

Things fall into a tentative routine. Every morning, Joel wakes up in bed beside Erica. They fuck the night before more often than not, but always in that same slow way that doesn’t do much for Joel. It’s enough to get off, sure, she isn’t an unattractive woman, but he’s mostly there for the meal ticket and roof over his head. He goes to work at the auto-body repair shop, Erica goes to her job at her law firm. The kids ride the bus to school. He gets home in the evenings before Erica and spends time coexisting with the children. Usually, he kicks back on the sofa, rubbing his sore back, and watches television, minding his own business. Aiden mostly avoids him, doing god knows what in his room. He bullies his sister cruelly and Joel punishes him when he sees fit. Erica knows what he does to Aiden and either doesn’t care or approves. He never lays a hand on Y/N though. She warms up to him slowly, cautiously. Most evenings she sits on the far end of the couch and Joel on the other, but as she gets used to him and sees that he’s not a threat, at least to her, she scoots closer. 

The children’s father is no longer in their lives from what Joel can tell, which is perfectly fine with him. When Joel’s heart does not feel full of lead, he plays the guitar. Y/N sits and watches him. She is a quiet child, but unrelentingly brave. When Joel lets the TV blare, he rarely cares to pay much attention these days, she stays and watches with him, no matter what is on and never complains or asks to change the channel. Blockbuster zombie apocalypse movie? She watches. News special on America’s most dangerous serial killers? She watches. Documentary on venomous snakes? She watches. Should Joel be letting her watch this crap? Who the fuck knows? He isn’t her father. And plus, he won’t admit this to anyone, hardly even himself, but he likes having some company. It makes everything feel…less. And he likes that she doesn’t try to make him speak. Sometimes there are no words and he thinks Y/N understands this. Unlike Erica who yaps every second of the day. But Joel stays polite and plays along. He has to.

But he will not lie, Aiden gets on his very last nerve. There is something that Joel cannot quite place that makes him feel like he has known this boy his whole life even though they are as familiar as perfect strangers. All siblings fight and rough-house. That is normal. Hell, he and Tommy used to fight rough and tumble all the time. But the way Aiden bullies Y/N is something else entirely. And most times, it is unprovoked. And he is so much bigger than she is, growing bigger by the day. 

Joel’s beatings have not stopped Aiden’s anger and sadistic attitudes, but they do make sure that he takes some kind of physical consequence for his crimes. It makes Joel feel better and he thinks it makes Y/N feel better too. And some days he gets so fucking mad at Aiden that he thinks not even god could stop his wrath even if the boy turned into Mother Theresa herself! Okay, maybe that’s extreme, but another part of Joel thinks maybe it’s not. The truth is, though he is loathe to admit it, some days, he is not in control of his anger. Some days he punches so hard, his knuckles bleed and he has to stop for a second to come back to himself. Others he goes so roughly on Aiden that he causes the kid to become bloody and he feels ashamed of what he’s done. But there are other days, very dark days, where he wishes he could do it over and over again. He convinces himself he’s doing it for Y/N and not some other sinister ulterior motive he does not care to dwell on…

One night, a few months into Joel’s new living arrangements, he walks through the upstairs hallway to his and Erica’s bedroom, passing the closed door to the bathroom that the kids share. He has done this what feels like a thousand times before and doesn’t think anything of it until he stops and realizes he hears Y/N singing. 

♪“ Someday, my pain / Someday, my pain will mark / You…”♫ she sings softly.

He can barely hear it over the crash of the water from her shower, but her voice is beautiful. It pulls at Joel’s shrunken heart, deep inside his long-dead chest. Her voice has an eerie quality to it too, almost haunting. He’s not sure of what song it is, but he finds himself wanting to know. Eventually, she stops, and Joel goes to bed, but her voice echoes in his mind for hours as he lies awake in the dark.

The next day, Joel is sitting on the couch when the kids get home from school. Y/N joins him on the other side of the sofa as usual. They watch reruns of some unfunny family sitcom.

“Heard you singing last night,” he finally grunts unceremoniously.

Y/N goes very still.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be quieter next time.”

Joel looks over at her. He realizes she looks terrified.

“Ain’t no problem with it,” he tries to explain, confused. “Thought you sounded nice is all.”

“You tryna trick me?” she stammers, tears collecting in her shimmering eyes.

“What? Trick you? What you crying for, honey? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel is genuinely flabbergasted. 

Tears trickle down her cheeks. What has he done this time? he wonders. But he is concerned more than anything. Hell, he hasn’t seen her cry like this since the day they met. Not even last week when Aiden slammed her head into the metal oven in the kitchen (luckily it was off or Joel would have really killed him that time).  

She sniffles, looking conflicted, then collects herself as best she can manage.

“M-my dad didn’t like when I would sing. ‘Specially if he was in a depo…I forget the word…deponition? Deposition? When he was on the phone for work, I mean. If I was being too loud. Or too shrill. He didn’t like that one bit. He’d get mad…” she trails off. 

“The way Aiden gets mad?” Joel asks very slowly, not truly wanting to know the answer.

“Yeah,” she nods after a while. “Except he’s a lot bigger. And stronger. He…he broke my arm once. But it was on accident I think. He got me ice cream after.”

Anger, red and hot, pulses through Joel’s veins. What hadn’t this child endured at the hands of angry men? 

“What did your mother do?” he bites out, almost unnaturally calm from trying to control himself.

“Well, most of the time he’d kinda like hit her around, I guess? But the time he broke my arm was the time she made him leave for good and they got a divorce and all. Aiden says it’s my fault he won’t come around anymore. He was so mad. He loves Dad so much. I don’t understand it though because even though Dad likes him a lot more than me, Dad would still be so mean to him sometimes. Mom says I don’t even know all of it...Promise I won’t bother you with singing though, okay?”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says as softly as his blinding rage will permit. Somehow, when he’s with Y/N, he finds he can control himself better. “I’ll never get mad at you for singing. Or being too loud. Or anything. Never gonna put my hands on you. I’m sorry if what I do to Aiden scares you or made you think that I would ever do such a thing to you.”

“It doesn’t scare me,” she shakes her head. “When you get rough with Aiden, you do it because he did really bad, to protect me. It’s like with you there’s rules that make sense. Aiden chooses to be mean and violent so you choose it back to him. With my dad, it was different. It was like I could breathe wrong and I’d get in trouble. Get in trouble for things I couldn’t control or help. Sometimes I did bad, I know I did, but I also know there were other times where I wasn’t hurting anyone and he’d still hurt me so badly. My dad never got mad at Aiden for hurting me though. He thought it was funny, I think. Sometimes he’d kinda like sick him on me. Kinda how you could a dog.”

Joel doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know the right words. He figures he can only show her with his actions who he is and she will just have to learn to trust him. If her father ever enters the house though, he will wring his neck. That’s for certain. Thank God he doesn’t come around for his sake, Joel’s, and the family’s.

“I was just thinking,” Joel finally says. “If ya want, I could learn how to play that song you were singing on my guitar and maybe you could sing it for me sometime?”

“M-maybe we could sing it together?” Y/N asks tentatively, her eyes wide. “Singing in front of other people is kinda scary.”

“I haven’t sung in a while,” Joel sighs. “Might be rusty.” 

“That’s okay,” she grins hopefully. 

Joel wants to take a photo of that rare sight and keep it close for as long as he lives, torn in his pocket or snug in his wallet, he doesn’t care. 

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold. 

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter . Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now. 

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life? 

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry. 

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.  

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists. 

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back…

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down. 

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs . 

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist. 

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t. 

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell. 

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

***

A few months roll by. Things are virtually the same except Y/N seems more comfortable around him now. Maybe it’s because she saw his weakness up close and personal, his Achilles heel —— knows how to coax it out of him now if she has to. Or maybe it’s because she truly trusts him. Whatever the case, she sits closer to him on the couch now, still giving him a respectful foot of distance though of course. 

Once in a blue moon, she sings for him and he tries to keep up with the lilting sound of her high voice. She says she likes his low, deep voice just fine, it’s just she still gets nervous singing in front of other people so it’s still a rare occasion. His favorite is when she sings solo and he gets to strum along for her and really listen. Sometimes her voice cracks in a very specific way that some might find to be a flaw, but Joel would never. 

Aiden makes fun of them and calls them the ‘Von Trapp Family Singers.’ Are they a family? Joel wonders.

One day after work, Joel goes to the library to find some sheet music for a song Y/N likes. She treasures the photo-copied paper like a gift as Joel deciphers the notes he can actually read for her. She color-codes each one carefully in magic marker so she can remember the differences between them. 

The next day, Aiden burns it up with a lighter he has acquired from God knows where. Joel confiscates it – the last thing he needs is this particular child setting fires – and It doesn’t end well for Aiden. He limps for damn near a week. But some days, when Aiden is calm, he joins Y/N and Joel in front of the TV if a sports game is on. He doesn’t sit on the couch though, just the floor. He doesn’t say much to them but does get invested in the good and bad plays of each game, gets sore if his team is losing. On one particularly good day, when the Rangers hit a grand slam, and Joel was actually paying attention, he and Aiden actually high-five.  

Things are going…well? Is that the right word? It is a foreign concept for Joel. For Christmas, he gets Y/N guitar, Aiden a book on boxing so maybe he will redirect his anger into somewhere productive, and Erica a spa-day kit for 20% off that he saw at CVS (he never claimed to know what women want). Aiden is neutral, surprised, he thinks, that Joel even got him a present. Erica is actually appreciative and returns the favor with some new socks and underwear. 

“A practical gift for a practical man,” she says, kissing him on the forehead. 

Joel supposes he appreciates the gesture. 

Y/N, though, is thrilled.

“Thank you, Joel! Got you something too,” she says excitedly, bouncing up and down in her red and white pajamas.

“That’s not necessary,” Joel chides, leaning over to pick up the wrapping paper that was strewn across the living room floor. 

But secretly he is curious. He didn’t think she even had any money of her own…

Aiden opens the cover of the boxing book with disinterest, eyeing the new guitar distastefully. 

Y/N jumps up, leaves the room, and returns with a small plastic baggie in her hands. Inside are little, different bits of colored plastic clumsily and haphazardly cut into tiny, sharp-looking, badge-shaped pieces. One he recognizes is from the top of a yogurt container he put into the recycling the other day, another one from the top of a Gatorade bottle. 

“Here ya go!” 

She shoves the plastic bag into his large hands enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” Joel responds, still unsure what he was given.

It reminds him of when Sarah was young and would come home with some sort of abstract macaroni painting from kindergarten and he would nod and smile knowingly when she explained that of course it was Two dinosaurs getting married, Dad. Duh!

“You could try one on my new guitar,” she offers, a little disappointed when he doesn’t have more of a reaction. “You said you lost most of yours…”

Joel immediately feels guilty and then it clicks. She tried to make him guitar picks! His heart clenches with emotion he can not quite identify. 

He pulls a little orange one out of the bag and accidentally nicks the edge of his finger. Because of the way it was cut, no doubt with uncoordinated child’s hands and a pair of scissors, the edges are much too sharp to serve as an actual guitar pick without damaging guitar strings or apparently Joel’s finger. Dumb kid. But he’s beyond honored anyone would take the time to do such a thoughtful thing for him. 

He hisses softly and sucks the blood off his finger.

“Oops,” she says, horrified. “Shoot. Sorry, I–”

“‘S no trouble,” he interjects dismissively. “Love ‘em. Was my fault anyway. I’mma be honest with you though, sweetheart; don’t think the guitar strings can handle these babies.”

“Oh,” she says softly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Oh, yeah, okay...”

She deflates, looking down at the carpet.

Joel selfishly lets her be sad for a beat before swooping back in to be the one to save the day.

“But here’s what I’ll do…”

She looks back up at him with an intoxicating kind of hope in her eyes.

He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and slips the orange pick into the photo slot next to the picture of Sarah. He returns the wallet back into his pants. 

Y/N positively beams. Brighter than the sun, even, Joel thinks.

Aiden yawns purposefully loudly and rolls his eyes. Erica looks touched and maybe even a little proud of her choice in men. But Joel didn’t do it for them. The only reaction in the world he cares about is hers.

Y/N is still grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet again. But then she does something new: she leans in and hugs him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, burying her face in his flannel shirt, pressing against his tummy.

The world stops for Joel. 

At first, he just hangs there limply, awkwardly. Literally forgets what one is supposed to do in such a situation, but then instinct kicks in and he wraps his arms around her too and squeezes ever so slightly. It’s a more cautious hug than Sarah would have given him – she would have squeezed him half to death – but Y/N is still holding him. Someone small and warm is holding onto him for the first time in what feels like an eternity. And just like that his past is rhyming with his present and it is the most beautiful sound Joel Miller has ever heard. 

Joel Miller is not a good man, no, but maybe, just maybe, he thinks he could be one for Y/N. 

***

Joel tries to be good. He does. His first order of business is stop beating on Aiden – especially in front of Y/N. No amount of violence towards the kid seems to do any good anyway – he still hurts her. And Joel is sick of bandaging her up and wiping the blood from her cheeks; something has to change. Not that he wouldn’t do it a thousand times if he had to. He’d do anything for the girl, that he is sure of. And the truth is, Aiden is close to getting big enough to really fight back. And Joel knows if Aiden really lays a hand on him, he’s not sure he will be able to control himself enough to not inflict permanent damage. And he doesn’t want that. Truly.

So at first, Joel thinks about having Erica send him away to a wilderness camp for troubled children or some such program he sees mentioned on reruns of Dr. Phil. She has the money to do it too. But she won’t send him away. She refuses, loves him too much. Protecting Y/N seems as far down on her list of priorities as ever. She is useless at disciplining him, always has been, so it is up to Joel to find another solution. So the next thing he tries is to set the boy up in boxing classes. This is risky since it might just teach him new ways to hurt Y/N, but at least it will be a place to direct his anger.

It works for a while, to his and Y/N’s immense relief, but that leaves Joel nowhere to take out his anger. He tries to ignore it at first and shove it down, but it starts to come out in little ways. At work, he barks at a customer who locks his keys in the car he’s trying to fix. At home, he shouts at Erica for missing Y/N’s school play. The rage leaks out of him, pours off his entire being. He tries jerking off more to increasingly violent porno magazines to calm himself down since Erica is sure not satisfying him. It doesn’t do enough though, not really. Finally, he tries boxing at the local gym himself, but it is not enough either. Boxing has rules. The first sorry sucker he gets in the ring with, he beats to the point of unconsciousness. Two men have to pull him off to get him to stop. They kick him out immediately.

So Joel tries going to the bar after work with the guys from the shop and drinking a little to take the edge off. That actually helps somewhat. He’s careful about it, never comes home drunk, never drinks in front of Erica or the kids. But what helps the most are the bar fights. He’s careful about that too. Only fights the assholes, which there are many of. Switches up the bars he goes to. But some motherfucker slaps a girl's ass without permission? Joel’s on him in seconds, watching like a predator from the shadows. Some dude throws a drink in the bartender’s face? Joel clobbers him half to death. And sometimes? People in the bar applaud him, even cheer him on. It’s probably because they’re intoxicated, but that’s how he justifies it to himself like he’s some kind of goddamn vigilante. Deep down he knows he is something much, much uglier. But at least he’s not doing it to Aiden, a child. And more importantly, at least it is away from Y/N.

***

One day, Y/N falls sick. It starts out as what seems like a cold with a nasty cough. Kids are little germ factories, Joel knows that. He tells himself it is nothing to worry about – that all kids get sick sometimes. The first few days she lies on the couch like a zombie, coughing incessantly into her elbow and sleeping a lot. She snores ever so slightly which he finds charming. Joel stays home from work with her because Erica has to be in court and they watch lots of nature documentaries and daytime talk shows. 

Then the coughing gets worse and Joel’s brain stops functioning properly and he has trouble explaining why. He feels more on edge, more agitated. Erica takes Y/N to the doctor and comes back with a diagnosis: walking pneumonia. Nothing too serious, lots of kids get it. She is prescribed antibiotics and is supposed to drink lots of fluids and wait it out. But when Erica tells Joel the news of what the doctor told her he is holding a glass of water and it shatters in his large hand, cutting the skin of his middle finger.

“Fuck!” he yells. 

And he cannot articulate precisely why, but he feels good that there is a justified reason to yell. 

Erica wipes his hand and cleans the glass up.

“Gotta go to court again today, honey,” she says like everything is fine and normal. “Can you look after her today? Call in sick? She’s in bed. Going through it.”

Joel nods and she is gone like this whole thing is nothing. Like her precious, living breathing child is not suffering in the room above his head.

He climbs the stairs and enters Y/N’s room. He doesn’t often spend much time there. The walls are painted pink and differently shaped dolls and stuffed animals line the white vanity across from her canopied bed. He does not think he has ever seen Y/N play with any of those specific toys, come to think of it, or express any interest in the color pink (no doubt Erica’s secret passion for interior design rearing its ugly head). He vows silently, one day, to paint the walls any color she wants. 

But there she is, sprawled out in her bed coughing a nasty cough. Something shifts inside Joel at the sound. She looks unwell and weak and so small. 

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, almost robotically. 

Something is not right. He sits on the edge of her bed, feels her burning forehead. He takes her temperature gently with the thermometer that goes in her ear. He feels that weird sensation like he’s been here before even though he has hardly ever entered her bedroom. One hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit it reads when it beeps. Joel swallows a lump in his throat that he didn’t realize was there.  

She coughs pathetically. She looks out of it, her eyes far away. Joel’s heart throbs painfully.

Y/N is mumbling something incoherent now. Joel leans a little closer so he can decipher the words.

He makes out something like: No, Dad. Don’t. Stop, please. Please, not tonight. 

Joel stops breathing. 

She must be delirious from the fever. 

And then she’s crying. Quietly, but crying all the less. And this time, unlike every time he has seen her tears before, she sobs. Actually makes noise, her chest wracked with it. 

Then she coughs so hard she starts to wheeze and it hits Joel so ferociously he practically loses his grip on reality.

When Sarah was sick she had leukemia, a blood cancer. And cancer requires treatment. Expensive treatment. But of course, Joel hadn’t cared. He would have sold every item he owned to save his child, would have traveled to the ends of the earth if he had to, done literally any and everything in his power to protect her. So he paid for most of her chemotherapy with high hopes. Desperate hopes, but high ones. It had been her best shot at getting better according to the doctors. And the thing about chemo is, the side effects can literally be deadly. Joel is not a man of science, but the doctor explained that those drugs kill the bad cells that make up the cancer, but also the good ones. It fucks with your immune system, weakens you. Makes you lose your hair, vomit, and or be so weak you can barely walk. All that happened to Sarah. Joel felt like a traitor taking her to those treatments. Logically, he knew they were necessary, but he always felt like he was the one doing those awful things to her. It eviscerated him, left him raw and empty, and helpless like a child.

But in the end, it was the pneumonia that killed her. Her body couldn’t fight it off. She’d died in a hospital bed, Joel at her side, holding her hand, unable to do a single damned thing except scream .

Y/N coughs again, simultaneously pulling him from his thoughts and throwing him back into them. His heart is pounding in his chest to Do something! But there is nothing to be done, nothing he can do! Why can’t he ever seem to protect her?

She looks up just then, notices him for the first time since he entered the room, still crying feebly.

“He hurt me,” she whispers up at him, her eyes glazed over and glistening with tears. She reaches out for a handful of his dark blue work shirt and pulls it tightly to her. “He hurt me. And I couldn’t–I c-couldn’t…”

And then he is holding her, not quite sure how, but he is holding her trembling body to his chest and he will not let her go. Not for the world, not for anyone. He will not lose this child. He wraps his arms around her, holds tight. He will keep her safe, no matter the cost. 

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he whispers. “I got you.”

***

Joel and Erica get married that spring. They agree on a private ceremony in front of a judge with only Y/N and Aiden in attendance. When Aiden hears the news, he throws a fit, He breaks dishes and punches a hole in the TV set which sets Joel’s teeth on edge. But Y/N is overjoyed. In the end, he and Joel adorn what Joel considers monkey suits and Erica wears a beautiful white dress that accentuates her figure. Y/N wears a frilly pink dress and carries a basket of pink roses. Joel never thought he’d be a married man and yet here he is. He imagines Sarah in attendance too and his heart aches. This is his life now. 

He refuses to wear a ring.

***

Time passes. Long stretches of time where things feel–dare he think it–normal.

 Aiden doesn’t beat Y/N, but begins to get into fights at school. Joel saves his violence for the bar scene which he begins frequenting more often. 

Erica starts working later, gets promoted in her job. Fucks Joel less and less, not that he cares very much. 

Joel goes to back-to-school nights and family cookouts. He teaches Y/N to play the guitar and how to fix car motors. In both these activities, she is no natural, but she tries her best and listens well. She smiles more than he’s ever seen. He drives her to sleepovers and Aiden to boxing practice. He paints her bedroom walls orange.

Things feel stable.

Two Christmases pass.

And then things take a downturn.

***

One evening, Joel returns home from work later than usual. When he arrives home in his truck, he notices an expensive sports car in the driveway. Erica has affluent friends, sure, but he’s never seen this particular car before. Something about that doesn’t sit right with him.

He opens the front door with a creak and Erica intercepts him before he can make it to the dining room table for dinner. She presses a hand to his forearm bulking with muscle.

“Don’t freak out,” she whispers urgently. 

Joel stops and hears the sounds of people eating dinner and a man’s raspy voice speaking.

“Freak out about what?”

He makes his way past her to the dining room. He sees a man he does not immediately recognize sitting at the head of the table, Y/N is flanking one side of the table next to him and Aiden the other. He is conventionally handsome and wearing an expensive pinstripe suit. When he looks up, he smirks at Joel. Joel thinks he looks kind of like Aiden if you were to squint. And then he understands who he is.

“The fuck are you doing in my house?” he growls, lunging forward.

“ Your house?” the man smirks again, unflinching. 

He looks Joel over, examining his mechanic’s uniform, the grease stain on Joel’s cheek. 

Erica grabs Joel. She pulls him back out into the hallway.

“Tell him he’s not welcome here,” Joel snarls, trying to get a look at the man over Erica’s shoulder. 

She pushes him backward gently. Instantly, he is worried for Y/N, for all intents and purposes alone in there with the man who abused her and this entire goddamn family for that matter. He catches a glance at her and she looks terrified . Aiden, conversely, Joel sees, looks like he just won the lottery, staring up at his dad in adoration. Joel doesn’t think he has ever seen him look so happy.

“This is important to them,” Erica snaps quietly. “That’s their father. He has a right–”

“Get him out of here or I’ll kill him,” Joel says deadly quietly. “He what? Doesn’t show up for over three years and you think that–”

“I know that he has a right to speak to them. I am their mother and they need a sense of closure. Aiden needs this. So you will sit down at that table and have an amicable dinner or so help me God, Joel.”

Erica never speaks to him like this. He is shocked.

“Fine,” he snarls after a while, his chest heaving. 

He can hardly think straight while Y/N is in there alone with that excuse for a man. Better he be close to protect her instead of thrown out of the house.

He walks back in with Erica, who sits next to Y/N, leaving Joel nowhere to go but next to Aiden.

“I’m Derek,” the children’s father says, leaning over the food Erica has prepared to shake Joel’s hand. 

Joel doesn’t take it.

“And you must be Joe? The new husband.”

“Joel,” he replies shortly.

He looks over at Y/N who is trying to be brave, he can tell, but deep in her eyes, looks petrified.

They eat dinner in tense silence until Derek breaks it and begins bragging about his golf club record, the latest client he’s been representing, his new girlfriend, Sylvia.

“See, she’s helping me become a better man,” Derek insists with a forkful of steak. “I know I haven’t always been…the greatest of fathers or partners, but she really convinced me coming here would be a good thing. That it would be healing. You guys will meet someday, I’m sure.”

Joel leans forward toward Derek, reeling at the idea that this man could possibly be back in the picture of his family’s life, but Erica reaches under the table and squeezes his knee in a death grip and Joel holds himself back.

Aiden hangs on his father’s every word. Erica looks somewhat intrigued after she lets go of her husband’s leg. Y/N screams silently at Joel, who tries his best to communicate without words that he will keep her safe.

“And I know I’ve missed quite a bit,” Derek continues. “Which is why I brought these. Sylvia’s idea, really.”

He reaches down toward his feet and pulls out a fancy golden gift bag and takes out two presents. He hands one to Aiden and the other one to Y/N. Aiden rips his open excitedly. Inside is a hunting knife with a red handle. 

Great, Joel thinks.

Y/N doesn’t move though, stopped like a deer in the headlights.

“Open it, girl,” Derek sneers.

She looks over at Joel. 

“Go on, baby,” he says softly, heat pumping through his blood.

She unwraps the pink wrapping paper and finds a Barbie doll in a clear plastic box. Joel has never seen her play with dolls at all come to think of it. 

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Erica smiles cautiously.

“Thanks, Dad,” Aiden says enthusiastically. “Can’t wait to show the guys at ROTC.”

“Good for you, son,” Derek grins. “Serving our country is the highest of honors.”

Joel suddenly tries not to think about Tommy blasted to bits halfway across the world in Afghanistan, his body in such bad condition all that he got left of his baby brother was a finger and two bent dog tags.  

Aiden beams.

“Well,” Derek barks, eyeing Y/N distastefully. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he taunts. 

Joel sees where Aiden gets it from. This arrogant, bullying behavior. He shifts in his seat, ready to strike if necessary.

“Thanks,” she says very quietly. 

Derek grins in a kind of satisfaction that makes Joel want to go over there and punch his daylights out. He almost does too until Erica kicks his shin beneath the table and he controls himself. 

Y/N frowns. She looks over at Joel, then back at her father. Something ripples across her face, but it goes so quickly Joel cannot assign any meaning to it. But she looks ever so less scared somehow, more angry almost, but not quite.

And then after about ten minutes of somewhat peaceful eating and Derek making Aiden and Erica laugh with stupid anecdotes from his court cases while Joel and Y/N exchange looks, it happens.

Y/N’s hand reaches forward and knocks against her glass of coke. It goes flying over in Derek’s direction and drenches him in the sticky liquid, staining his suit.

“Sorry, Dad!” she squeaks immediately. “Oh my god, I–”

“You little slut!” he roars in response, almost like a reflex, backhanding Y/N across the face with lightning speed and accuracy. “Do you know how much this fucking suit cost!?”

The force of the blow is so strong it knocks Y/N from her chair onto the ground.

Before a coherent thought can even go through Joel’s head he is on the other man, slamming him up against the wall behind him by the throat.

“Joel, don’t you dare!” Erica yells, but it is too late.

Joel sees red and can’t exactly recall what he does next, but it goes something like this:

He squeezes around Derek’s throat and bangs his head backward against the wall a few times. The other man tries to get a punch in, but Joel ducks and kicks him in the balls. Derek crumples to the ground and Joel gives his chest another hard kick. He whines pathetically. 

Aiden gets up then, but Erica uses all of her strength to pull him back before he can get involved in the mix. He resists, shouts something that Joel cannot make out, but Erica manages to keep him from the two men with a great amount of effort and struggle. 

Derek is on the floor now and Joel is straddling him, landing punch after ruthless punch down onto his head. His nose begins to bleed, but Joel keeps punching. 

“HOW DARE YOU?” he roars down at the trembling, gushing man on the floor.

There is so much blood splurting all over his face, dripping down onto his expensive stained suit, and the floor that Derek almost stops looking like Derek. Joel sees Aiden’s face in his features. And then there is so much blood that it could be anyone’s face screaming back at him for mercy. It could be those creepy, asshole men at the bar. It could be the much bigger kid who always used to beat up Tommy every day in the schoolyard. It could be that damned head doctor who let his babygirl die. It could even be his no-good, bastard, alcoholic papá . 

He turns his head ever so slightly while still delivering punches. Erica has Aiden in a bear hug. She is screaming for Joel to stop. Aiden is bellowing something that sounds like, You bastard, I’ll kill you! Get off of him! I’ll kill you! And then Joel sees Y/N still on the floor from where she was knocked. Her face is still turned in the same direction it was slapped into, but she is not crying or screaming. Her eyes are dancing.

They connect with Joel’s. 

He knows he is supposed to be a good man for her, but she doesn’t seem to mind his deviant behavior. He stops then, though, because otherwise he thinks he will kill the man and he doesn’t want Y/N to experience that. He steals a glance at her again and she looks ever so slightly disappointed, but her wide-eyed expression tells Joel that Christmas has come early this year. She sends him a look of gratitude and Joel thinks that maybe he did act like a good man for her after all in the case of this vile, pathetic person who is supposed to be her father. 

 Finally, Joel stands up. He walks over and reaches out a bloody hand to Y/N and pulls her gently from the ground. Even after she’s standing upright she doesn’t let go of him.

Derek gets up after a while, wiping his sleeve over his face to try to tame the excess blood. Joel thinks that maybe he broke the man’s nose. He feels not a shred of remorse. The other man spits on the ground at Joel’s feet and leaves without saying goodbye to his ex-wife or children, slamming the front door behind him.  

Erica is not pleased with Joel’s behavior. Aiden is shouting and screaming. He breaks a plate by throwing it onto the floor with a loud crash. Joel leans over and grabs the knife his father gave him and sticks it in his front pocket so Aiden doesn’t feel tempted to use it. Y/N’s small hand is still in his. 

When Aiden is coherent enough to listen to instructions and all screamed out, Erica sends the children upstairs to bed. 

Joel tries to walk Y/N up to bed to tuck her in, but Erica stops him.

“ Not you,” she growls at Joel. 

She is livid in a way Joel has never seen before. For a moment, he seriously wonders if this is the end of their relationship. 

The kids scamper upstairs and Erica yells at Joel for ages. 

At a certain point, he stops listening. He doesn’t try to argue back. Doesn’t care to. He is actually calm now, though his chest is still heaving from the exertion, more calm than he’s been in ages. He knows that she will never understand why he had to do what he did to Derek. She lives in another reality where his violence is not acceptable if she has to bear witness to it. She doesn’t care about Y/N the way she is supposed to. Never has. Doesn’t know or see her. Not the way Joel does. Has too big a soft spot for Aiden. Tolerated Joel’s violence toward him though like a coward. Maybe deep down she knew he needed some kind of discipline? But when Joel lays a hand on her scumbag of an ex-husband that’s what’s too far? When he hurt her own daughter? When Joel himself was responsible for hurting her own precious son? Where was her outrage then? 

But he voices none of this. Pushes it down. He cannot lose her. Not this house, not the kids, not the financial security. Never Y/N. 

Erica banishes him to the couch for the first time in their relationship. Joel doesn’t mind. 

Hours later, late into the night, he hears soft footsteps walking down the stairs. He rolls over on the sofa to see who is approaching. He wonders if it is Erica there to apologize because he knows her well enough to know by now that she will forgive him eventually. She will forgive anything it seems. But it is not Erica at all.

“Joel?” a little voice asks quietly. “You up?”

“Yeah, baby,” he replies. “You okay? I’m so sorry he pulled that shit on you.”

Y/N shrugs. 

“Sorry I…I didn’t stop it before it happened,” he admits like a secret. 

She shrugs again.

“‘M sorry she made you sleep on the couch and all,” she replies.

“‘S no trouble. I don’t mind.”

“But it’s my fault you got in trouble in the first place.”

“Y/N, you ain’t done nothing wrong,” Joel tells her seriously. 

It’s hard to see her in the dark, but he thinks she’s grimacing guiltily. 

“I just wanted to say…” she begins hesitantly. “Thanks for like sticking up for me and all that. You…you’re the only one who does.”

Joel hides a smile from his babygirl. Something inside him likes being that person for her, he cannot lie to himself. Likes being the one she can count on. 

“You were like some MMA fighter,” she continues. “But then all the blood was like in The Shining .”

One day, not long ago, Joel had fallen asleep on the couch when The Shining came on and Y/N had watched the entire thing out of her own free will. That movie had frightened the shit out of him as a kid!

“I’m sorry if I scared you, sweetheart.”  

“You didn’t,” Y/N replies matter-of-factly.  “I wasn’t scared of what you did for a second…I know that’s messed up, but I kinda wanted you to…” 

She trails off.

Joel understands. 

“I kinda, please don’t get mad, but I sorta knocked the cup over on purpose,” she admits.

Joel’s eyebrows go way up on his forehead in surprise.

“It’s just,” she babbles quickly in self-defense. “Mom and Aiden were like giggling and hanging onto every dumb thing he said and it scared me. I thought they might let him keep coming around and start liking him again. And I also knew he hadn’t changed too. I could tell on account of how he was looking at me in that same mean way he always did. And I also knew you’d save me like you always do and you had this angry look in your eyes. I knew what you would do. I could feel it in my gut…”

“You little shit!” Joel smirks. 

He has to give her credit where credit was due – that was incredibly shrewd. Dangerous, but oh so clever. She played everyone in that room like a fiddle. Joel is honestly kind of proud.

“You mad?” she asks tentatively, biting her bottom lip.

“Nah,” Joel grins. “At you? Never. You shouldn’t have had to let him hurt you to get him away from you, but you protected yourself and that’s the most important thing. If I had to do it over, I would.”

Y/N smiles. 

She’s a fucked up little girl, but Joel is a fucked up man, and they both live in a fucked up world.

“Got your back,” he grunts. “Remember that. Now scurry along back to bed and get some rest.”

“G’night, Joel.”

*** 

Time passes. 

Erica forgives Joel of course and Derek never comes around again. 

Y/N and Aiden grow bigger. 

They go on camping trips and Joel teaches Y/N and Aiden how to fish. Never thought he would see the day where Aiden was willingly listening to his instructions, but the day comes anyway. Of course, the boy’s favorite part is cutting up the bloody fish guts like Joel’s used to be as a child. Y/N likes the part where you wait for the fish to bite. She sits next to Joel on the grassy river bank, the sun shining down on the lazy lake they are camping by, and smiles softly to herself.

Another two Christmases pass.

All the while, Joel is visiting the bar more and not necessarily to drink. His violent streak is getting worse somehow. He thinks, though he’s no goddamn shrink, that it might have something to do with the fact that he and Erica are not having any sex. Their relationship is still amicable and she is still sweet to him, and he tries his best to be to her too, but in the bedroom is mostly crickets. Joel jerks off, of course he does, but his fist is no substitute for a warm body. 

Joel causes such a scene at the bar he frequents the most, that the cops have to be called. He ditches the place before he can get arrested, but he’s getting worried about his behavior. Something must change.

So then come the women. They practically throw themselves at him. Never has he thought he was that attractive until women literally offer themselves up to him on a silver platter after saving them from some drunken creep. Joel had always declined until now. But Joel is only a man. He fucks them rough and dirty (with their permission of course – Joel is not a good man, and a lot of things, but he isn’t a fucking rapist) in the bathroom stalls, in the alleyways. In the moment it feels good and helps him let off some steam, but after he feels guilty. And it doesn’t satisfy him much more than with Erica if he really thinks about it. One thing that Erica has over these women who let him act out his violent self is the look of devotion in her eyes. That’s always the thing that gets Joel to cum in the end when he does get to fuck her.

 He would leave her, she isn’t that special to him if he’s honest, but she offers him a twofold sense of stability he has never known in his life. The first fold is the financial stability that has evaded him all of his days. The second is the feeling of family . Something so mundane and normal. And despite her flaws, she treats him so well – better than Sarah’s mother ever did. And most importantly, he doesn’t think he could leave Y/N. Not now. Not when she looks at him like he is the universe. Not even Aiden whom Joel has (begrudgingly) begun to see the traces of himself in. 

***

This particular muggy, summer day begins normally. Joel goes to work, fixes a Chevy Impala’s fluid tank. And then he walks in with an old, beat-up Honda Accord. 

His name is David, and Joel has heard of him through murmurings and bar stories and whispers at community barbeques. He’s a notorious neighborhood legend, whose house kids cross the street to avoid. He is the boogeyman at the end of the cul-de-sac. 

The story is, though through the many versions Joel has heard some of the details get muddled, that he kidnapped and raped a twelve-year-old girl (that part all versions agree on). Some say he was supposed to have ten years in prison, others say twenty, but whatever the number he got out in one for “good behavior.” In jail, he supposedly devoted his life to God and became a preacher.

Joel doesn’t want to help him, but his boss hisses at him that money is money and he’s going to serve the man whether Joel likes it or not. 

There’s something wrong with the exhaust pipe, so Joel bends down and takes a look at it. He opens the trunk and sees a box of Bibles next to a plastic bag of zip ties. His blood runs cold.

“The fuck is this shit doing in your car?” he growls, referring to the zip ties.

“The Bible is the word of God, Mr. Miller,” David replies, eyeing Joel’s nametag. “Would you like one? I’m always trying to spread The Good Word.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he spits, looking over to make sure his boss is not watching. 

“If you must know, though it’s none of your business, those zip ties are for my garden to help hold up my plants. They are remarkably useful,” David smiles sickeningly politely. 

And that’s when Joel loses it just a little.

He picks up the ties and pockets them.

“Listen here, you pedophile piece of shit,” he snarls. “If I hear about you stepping one goddamned pinky-toe out of line–”

“Hey, Joel!” A little voice calls.

The breath is knocked from Joel’s lungs.

Y/N bounds up to them holding a brown paper bag out of nowhere. 

“You forgot your lunch! Mom dropped me off so you could have it. It’s tuna though. I hate hate tuna. But you’ll eat anything so I hope it’s good for you at least,” she babbles.

“Baby,” Joel says very quietly, his heart thrumming in his ribcage. “Right now’s not a great time. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll catch up with you later?”

Then she notices David. By the fact that she doesn’t immediately leave, Joel determines she has no clue who he is.

“Hello, young lady,” David smiles, eyeing Joel knowingly. “I’m Pastor David.”

“Uh, hi,” she says.

Joel thinks he might actually kill him.

“Would you like something to take home with you?” he asks.

Y/N blinks in confusion as Joel steps in front of her.

“She’ll be going now, won’t you Y/N?” Joel suggests dangerously.

“Here,” David says before she can respond.

He hands her a black-covered bible.

Y/N takes it, looks at the cover, and laughs. Joel and David both look down at her in surprise.

“No offense, ‘Pastor David,”’ she smirks. “But I don’t believe in that shit. Here, you can have it back,” she offers.

He takes back the book somewhat defeatedly. And Joel grins internally.

“Bye, Joel,” she tells him, still smirking. 

She side-hugs him quickly and returns to Erica’s car. 

“How dare you even look at her–” Joel booms at the sad, pathetic excuse for a man once she is out of earshot. 

His hands are clenched into fists and they are shaking. Every part of him is on fire. 

“I think I’ll be going now,” David interjects lightly. “I can see my business isn’t welcome here. You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Miller. Quite a mouth on her. Shame if something were to happen to her…Oh, the things someone like me could make her believe…”

Joel reaches back his fist to punch, to pummel, to kill, but suddenly, another hand grabs his and holds it in place. Joel’s boss has materialized behind him and is holding him back. Good thing too. It’s probably the only thing that saves Joel’s career and David’s life. 

David winks and drives away as the boss begins to reprimand Joel who is still shaking and fuming.

All he knows is this: If anyone touches his babygirl he will not hesitate to put them six feet under, no matter the cost to himself. He will not hesitate to get blood on his calloused hands. He will not hesitate to kill. And this time? His baby will not sustain a single scratch . He will not wait for her to get hurt before he acts. 

***

Joel wants nothing more than to go home and spend time with his babygirl and wife and even his step-son if he will allow, but there is blood popping and oozing and broiling and churning under his skin like billowing, bubbling lava. If he doesn’t do something about it soon he will explode worse than a volcanic eruption so he heads to the seediest bar he can think of. He makes his way inside and sits right up at the bar, already occupied by a few people. He orders a drink (his usual: whiskey on the rocks) and waits for the impending opportunity for violence he is sure is lying in wait.

He cannot believe the shit that came out of ‘Pastor-fucking-David’s’ sick, perverted mouth and that he almost lost his job over it. He lets that thought charge him up into a rage, his fists clenched so tightly they are beginning to ache in the joints. He cannot believe that disgusting little fucker had the audacity to say that horrible scummy bullshit in his presence when he would do anything to protect that innocent child. He takes a drink of his whiskey and knocks it back in one gulp. He would do anything , ‘Lord’ only knows. He snickers to himself sinisterly. 

And while he’s on the topic, fuck God! When had He ever done a single damn good thing for Joel his entire miserable life except maybe to give him Sarah and then take her away like she was nothing and not the entire light of the universe wrapped into a small, vulnerable person? Joel doesn’t know much about the bible, truth be told, but he remembers a few things from his Sunday school days. He remembers that people are created in the image of God and the stories he remembers most are from the Old Testament which heavily featured a God of absolute rage. Maybe that is the way he is god-like, built of anger and revenge and wrath and the sick, pathetic hunger for power that lurks inside most people. 

But he also remembers Jesus being meek and mild. Joel never understood that desire until he had Sarah and then Y/N in his care. If Joel could snap his fingers and make himself some fundamentally kind and caring man he would, but he can’t. Joel Miller is not a good man. He tried to be for Y/N, he truly did, but look at everything he’s done in the time he’s known her: he used Erica to get financial stability and roof over his head, he’s cheated on her numerous times, he beat Aiden, a child, and everyday the weight of that guilt grows greater as he begins to truly understand how wrong that was, and he beat his babygirl’s pathetic excuse for a father (but still her father) in front of her. He also beat people in bar fights and that time at the gym. And the thing is: is he even a little bit sorry about any of it – except for maybe what he did to Aiden? No, not even a little. And he’d do all of it again if it could mean getting to spend time with his babygirl, Y/N, again. His babygirl who FUCKING DAVID tried to threaten!

And the problem is: who knows what that fucker is capable of? The police and the judicial system let him out after one year which can only be described as a colossal moral failure and a massive miscarriage of justice. It wouldn’t take much for David to really figure out where they lived and grab Y/N and throw her in his trunk like he did that poor other little girl. Maybe that’s paranoid, but Joel knows better than most that when a man wants to do a dark thing he will find a way to do it. Joel does not want to live his life constantly looking over his shoulder as some horrendous pedophile lives freely. 

And then he turns his head to look down at the rest of the fairly busy bar and he sees him . None other than David himself, drinking a beer. Joel cannot believe his luck. It is like all of the light in heaven has aligned to give him such a gift. A part of him is screaming to not engage because Joel is sure he could kill him for what he said about Y/N. But the rest of him is already standing up and grabbing David by the shoulder and–

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here now ,” he snarls. “Almost lost my job because of you, you sick fuck. You’re lucky I give you a warning and don’t wring your neck on the fucking spot.”  

David turns around, Joel’s fingers digging into his shoulder.

“Proverbs 24:1 and 2,” he quotes calmly. “‘Do not envy wicked men or desire their company; for their hearts devise violence, and their lips declare trouble.’”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means perhaps I will be leaving. I don’t care to spend my time with wicked men such as yourself. And I have many preparations to make for what is to come. How is your daughter doing since we last met?”

Joel’s heart runs cold. 

“Get my baby’s name out of your goddamned mouth .” 

“Hope we run into each other soon,” David grins as he gets off the barstool and dislodges himself from Joel’s grip. “There is a lot I could teach her.”

He turns to leave. Disgusting coward, Joel thinks. He could let the man go. But then what? Live in fear of him? Let his precious Y/N live in fear of him? Joel is tired of living in fear, of resigning to a cruel man in a cruel world, and he will never do that or let Y/N do that ever again. 

And then David leans in so close that Joel can smell the alcohol on his breath and the sweat on his skin.

“Can’t stop thinking about her pretty little hands around my–”

Joel doesn’t let him finish. In that moment he knows what will transpire. He picked this seedy-ass bar for a reason: so that no one will bother to stop him.

He lands the first punch with ease, doesn’t even feel the pain till minutes later. The force of the blow to David’s head is so strong he slams down into the ground. It is so violent that David’s eyelid starts to bleed and the skin around the impact spot becomes puffy and dark. 

David shouts for help, but no one in this place gives a fuck and even if they did everybody knows who he is and what he did so they don’t give a shit two times over. 

Joel continues the assault. Punch after punch reigns down on the other man as blood begins to coat his features. David tries to get a punch or two into Joel’s stomach, but Joel straddles each of his biceps and holds him down so he can continue hitting. The longer Joel hits, the better he feels. This time is different. This time he does not see the features of every man he’s ever hated in the face of his victim. This time he sees only David’s disgusting smirk in his mind’s eye. This time he only thinks about how he is saving Y/N from a lifetime of fear and cruelty. This time Joel will not let his adversary get a strike in first. This time he will be the one to stop the fate of impending devastation that lies in the palms of David’s shaking and broken hands. This time he can save her . 

When Joel is done with his hands, he is panting heavily. He moves on to his feet, kicking the man’s gut sadistically, his trembling hands, his face. Crunch , goes David’s skull. And then he is not moving or breathing.

Joel stops.

A lick of fear trails against the inside of his stomach, but the rage, always the rage warms his stomach like a rush of flames.

So he keeps going. He bends back down and squeezes the man’s throat just to make sure. It’s good he did too because David’s bloodshot, viens-having-burst eyes snap open and David makes a pathetic little squealing noise and Joel squeezes harder, rougher, with more conviction.

In the end, it takes longer than he thought it would. 

Joel only stops when he hears sirens blaring in the distance. He looks up for the first time since the assault started and sees all of the patrons staring at him in revulsion and fear. The bartender actually has the phone in her hand. Joel guesses she was the one to finally call the cops. He guesses he was so sadistic and violent that even this shitty place had seen enough. He thinks to run, briefly, but where would he run to? Everything he has ever wanted in life is now going to be closed off to him. But he saved Y/N and that makes everything worth it. It has to have been worth it.

Joel puts two scarred, calloused fingers to David’s pulse point, as blood (his and David’s) drips down from his knuckle onto the wooden floor and feels nothing.

When the cops handcuff him and take him away, he doesn’t resist. He comes quietly. He cannot ever really be a good man for Y/N, he understands that now, but at least now she and he may know some peace of mind after what he’s done.

***

The time leading up to the trial is a blur. 

Erica pays for an excellent lawyer, but divorces him on the spot. It seems there are some things even she will not forgive, and apparently murder is one of them. She allows the children to see him one last time in cold, sterile police interrogation room. A court-appointed child advocate social worker must be present. They allow him to have his handcuffs taken off for the first time since he was arrested. The kids are told he accidentally killed someone in a bar fight and for legal reasons he leans into the “accidental” part. 

Aiden comes in first. He knew who David was and tells Joel he did the right thing. Joel is surprised. He reaches out a limp hand, dirt caked under his fingernails, and shakes Joel’s for the first time since they’ve known each other and they part ways on good terms.

“You’re not my dad,” Aiden tells him quietly. “But you always put up a good fight to be there.”

And he leaves.

Joel is more touched than he wants to believe.

Y/N’s visit is much more difficult.

“How could you!?” she screams, standing by the door the second she sees him as he sits at the interrogation table, his chair turned toward her. 

At first Joel thinks she means how could he killl another human being. Y/N didn’t seem to know who David was after all. But that’s not what she is mad about.

“How could you leave me!?” she shouts, tears in her eyes. “You’re going to be taken away from me! Mom is leaving you because of this and that means you aren’t like my dad anymore. You’re going to forget all about me and never get to see me again because you killed some dumb man who tried to give me a bible?”

“He was not a good man,” is all Joel can say. 

He can’t be the one to tell her more, hasn’t told anyone how David had threatened her. Not even his lawyer. He doesn’t want to scare her, doesn’t want to admit to anyone he let those words even get to leave that shit stain’s mouth. 

“I don’t care!” she shouts again. “I want you!”

And then she bursts into tears and runs into his chest and Joel holds her against his orange jumpsuit and starts to feel tears trickling down his own cheeks.

“Never gonna forget about you,” he nearly scolds her into hair. “How could you ever think that, baby? You’re my babygirl. I’ll get out one day and come right back to you, understand?”

“But Mom–”

“You’ll be grown by the time I get out and won’t have to worry about what she says. But I’ll tell you this: you might feel different about me by the time your grown up and however you feel I want you to know I’ll respect that. But I ain’t gonna forget about you. Not ever.” 

“Your time is up,” the court-appointed social worker states. 

“No!” Y/N shouts, burying herself deeper into Joel’s embrace. “NO! I’m not leaving! I won’t leave you!”

Joel hugs her back tightly, crying into the top of her head as she sobs softly into his chest. 

In the end, the social worker has to pull her away as she screams.

“I love you, Y/N!” he calls to her as the social worker drags her from him. “Never gonna forget you, babygirl. Remember that.”

All Joel can hear back is a broken wail.

***

Erica attends the trial; the kids are forbidden. Joel’s defense claims it was a drunken accident and goes for manslaughter. Because he killed a known child molester he has no trouble while he waits in jail. He is even considered a hero by some. No one tries to fuck with him and that’s how Joel would prefer it since if he gets into too many fights it will just add to his sentence and he must get out and get back to his babygirl if she’ll still have him. His lawyer tells him not to mention the threats that David made toward Y/N because it will look like more of a reason that Joel would have had to intentionally kill him as opposed to accidentally like the manslaughter plea would have the court believe. Joel listens. He does exactly what he’s told because this lawyer is good and he needs to get out someday for christ sake.

In the end, he gets ten years and his lawyer tells him he could get eight for good behavior.

Eight years, if Joel can manage it.

They take him away to prison in handcuffs. Erica sobs. It is the last time he sees her.

***

Joel always wondered if his temper would land him in prison. Now that he’s here things go surpringly well. He gets a reputation for being the murderer of a child molestor and people respect him, listen to him when he bothers to speak. He keeps things in order and people start to refer to him as the “pod boss.” He also reads a lot in his cell, tries to help people with their cases and appeals if he can. And if someone steps out of line, Joel is more than happy to put them in their place so long as he can avoid attention from the guards, who he actually mostly gets along with to their faces, but behind their backs beats people to a pulp. No one ever dares to snitch on him and he is considered on the right track to get out for good behavior early. 

Time passes — painfully long stretches of time.

He has a lot of time to think, to read. He reads every book in the prison library over the time he is incarcerated. He reads parenting books, self-help books, books on trauma, books on abuse, books on anger management, books on meditation, books on spirituality (nothing sticks in that regard though, he is still furious like God, but less so these days). Somehow his anger has started to simmer down a notch.   

But he worries his babygirl will forget about him, or worse grow to hate him. He’s not sure he’ll survive that.    

Luckily, or he might have withered away and died, somehow Y/N convinces Erica to let her write him a letter once a month and have one call with him on Christmas. 

Christmases quickly become his favorite day of the year. 

Y/N writes him religiously. She talks about how angry she is at him, how she misses him, how she finally fixed the motor on Joel’s old pickup truck, how some boy gave her a love letter on Valentine’s Day, how she thinks of him every day.

Joel never tells her what David said about her, lets her believe he is just some violent, drunken idiot. He writes back how much he misses her, how he read a new book this week, how prison food is shit, how he’d probably greet that boy with a shotgun if he thinks he’s getting anywhere with his babygirl, how his whole heart beats for her.

She’s allowed to send him one photo a year, her most current school photo, and Joel hangs them on the wall of his cell so he can see her beaming at him at his highest and lowest moments along with the tiny picture of Sarah he managed to save from his wallet. 

Aiden even sends him a card each Father’s Day. It never has anything written in it except for whatever stupid pun or text the card came with, but Joel reads between the lines with that one. Each one seems to whisper to him louder and louder, I love you and I forgive you. Joel writes him back, “Thanks, kiddo. -Joel” He hope that conveys the thousands of sorrys he wants to scream from the rooftops and say straight to the boy’s face. He will someday when he gets out. He makes himself promise. He hears from Y/N when Aiden joins the marines. 

When Joel gets to actually hear Y/N’s voice on the old prison phone it’s like the most beautiful sound he has ever heard except for maybe Sarah’s voice. She babbles away about her life and what’s she’s up to and he hangs on every word like gospel. He barely gets a word in, but prefers it that way. Wishes he could hear her singing. Once, when she’s sixteen, and sounds so woefully grown up it hurts Joel’s entire heart, she hums a little absentmindedly and he can’t get the sweet sound out of his head. Her love for him never seems to waver and that is a blessing that Joel will never forget, the only thing he would thank this cruel God for. And of course, his love for her never wavers either. She is the only beacon of light for him in this dark and mundane existence. She is his everything.

***

When Y/N is eighteen and no longer under her mother’s control, she comes to visit him in person. This is the first time they have seen each other in six years. Despite their loving correspondence, Joel is nervous to see her for the first time since her childhood. He worries about how awkward it might be.

When he sees her walking into the dinky little family meeting room, his entire mode of existence changes.

She looks so beautiful, so grown-up. Sure she had always been a cute little kid, Joel always thought that, but now she is a woman. Tears come to Joel’s eyes. When her eyes connect with his, he feels so seen .

He tries to get a word out, but before he can she is running to him, into his arms and Joel has never felt something so perfect in his entire life. He knows he has never felt a love like this before. Not even with Sarah…something about this is different somehow? Joel is not too in touch with his feelings, but he’s trying to be more attentive to them these days with nothing left to do but read about such topics as “emotional regulation” and “mindfulness.” He’ll come back to this thought later though…

Y/N begins to babble into his ear, something about missing him and not wanting it to be awkward, but this is the furthest from awkward Joel has ever felt.

Joel has never been a man of many words so all he can think to say is,

“Missed you, babygirl.”

She grins at that, brighter than all the suns of all the planets in the universe (Joel has been reading about those too) and he laughs for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

She laughs too, wipes tears from her eyes, and says,

“Missed you too, Joel. More than you know.”

Joel thinks that can’t possibly be true for that is all he has known for the last six years and possibly his entire life: missing her.

She comes once a month, drives an hour just to see him, and she tells him about college and later her very own shitty apartment. Her mother has thrown herself into her work and Aiden is serving his second tour. She makes good grades and has a stable boyfriend that treats her well, she swears. Joel couldn’t be happier for her, except the boyfriend business does make him want to crush that little fucker’s head in for some reason.

***

The last time Y/N comes to visit before his release (eight years to the day for good behavior) (she is 20 damn years old already!) something feels different to Joel. When he hugs her to greet her, he’s suddenly very aware of her body, the curves of it, her softness. Her hair smells so good, he doesn’t want to let go of her and then to his intense dismay and shock he feels himself getting a little excited down south. Immediately, he lets go of her, feeling like a pervert, praying she didn’t and doesn’t notice. He doesn’t see any obvious signs from her and the two sit down (Joel rather quickly) at the flimsy, nailed-down table and they talk of Joel’s impending release. All the while, Joel is trying to stay calm. He convinces himself it was just an accident and that he hadn’t been around any women in what felt like an eternity and that’s what  led him to get worked up. But when Y/N leaves to go home he feels a kind of dull longing in the bottom of his gut. A different kind of longing then what he had felt for a younger Y/N. Joel tells himself not to repress for the first goddamn time in his life and let himself feel. And he does. He feels butterflies and yearning and need, a great big need inside himself. And then he knows what else he feels: the gut-wrenching, unquenchable sensation of love and beneath that, primal, base, and self-loathing: desire . 

In his solo cell (that he has acquired because he is the pod boss and respected) he jerks off to those thoughts, touches himself to those feelings. When he cums unusually hard, he feels an overwhelming amount of shame. Of this, Joel knows, he will never ever tell another soul. Joel also knows he will not hurt his babygirl any more than he already has, intentionally or not, not ever. But then again, being a good, upstanding man has never really quite been in his arsenal, has it?

Tags (LMK if you wanna be tagged!): @toxicanonymity @motelprincess444 @epicrainbowsheep @anama-cara @sheepdogchick3

@denileisariver @lochnymph @mewantpeepaw @fandomdaydreamer @r3dheadedwitch

PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING

PART 2

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 12

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11)

Oof, so this took me forever to write. A week and a half. But now it's finally here, the final post of this meta series. And yes, I did hit 20k words by the finale, oops. The analysis part alone is at 20.1k words. In total, this meta series is at 150k words. When I wrote that very first post about episodes 1+2 in on single sitting, pulling an all-nighter to both write, gif, and publish it I never expected it to turn into this huge project that has become. Don't ask how much sleep I was getting while I was writing these metas. And don't ask how my studies have been going since early December (I was gonna write two exams a week from me publishing this but I haven't done any studying so far whatsoever rip). Totally worth it, though. Anyway, I don't wanna keep you on your toes any longer, so have fun <3

By the way, I apologize in advance, but the section cover pics had to go for this one. Instead I bring you.... more gifs! Yay!

Acknowledgments: To everyone who regularly liked and/or reblogged and/or commented... THANK YOU 😘 Your encouragement really kept me going over these past few weeks, even when my brain was feeling really exhausted from thinking so long and so hard about this series and especially this character. I had a blast going on this journey and I'm glad I got to share it with you. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I love you.

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume Fadel and Style use the rude pronouns guu/mueng with each other unless I specify otherwise. And I WILL be specifying otherwise this time hehe.

To recap: Last episode Style got to spend a lovely 24 hours of saying goodbye to Fadel before the one thing that Style has been dreading the most (safe for Fadel's death, probably) happened: Fadel got arrested. And there's nothing Style could do about it but watch. And now he has to live with the fact that his boyfriend will be in prison for the next five long years.

No. 1: Visitors

Kant and Style go visit their boys in prison together and it seems to be their first visit in general, considering how both couples are catching up. We don't know how long it's been since they last saw each other, but I assume it must have been more than just a couple of days, since we later learn that the burger restaurant has already been sold.

Either way, Style is now sitting in front of Fadel, asking him how prison is. Fadel says it's not that bad and Style checks in once more to make sure Fadel is really fine: "Really? You sure you're not saying that just to make me happy? I've seen some interviews, and the people who have been here said it was awful."

After all, Style knows Fadel and he knows Fadel is prone to pretending that everything is fine when really, it isn't. Style even called Fadel out on it in episode 7: "Just admit when it hurts. You don't have to be tough all the time." Back then Style also told Fadel: "I'm worried about you, you know? I was afraid something would happen to you.*"

*กลัวมึงเป็นไรไปอ่ะ [gluua - mueng - bpen rai - bpai - àh] afraid - you - have a problem - [particle] Official subs: I thought you were a goner.

Now, about half a series later Fadel is finally very well aware of just how much Style worries about his well-being and, with a laugh, reassures him once more that prison really isn't that bad. Style lets it go and tells Fadel: "I really miss you, though." And let me just share what I learned when I asked my Thai friend about the phrase ก็...อยู่ดี [gôh ... yùu dii], because I wasn't entirely sure what it meant: according to my friend it means "still" (German speakers: he translated it as "immer noch"), so the line goes more like:

But I still miss you. แต่กูก็คิดถึงมึงอยู่ดีนะ [dtàe - guu - gôh - kít-tĕung - mueng - yùu dii - ná] but - I - miss - you - still - [na]

They've been separated for a while now, but Style still misses Fadel. Style hasn't stopped missing Fadel. Fadel acknowledges that and tells him "When you do, just come visit." And for those curious about the literal wording (it doesn't really change anything, but I know you guys love this <3):

If you miss me, then come visit me like this. ถ้ามึงคิดถึงกูอ่ะ ก็มาหากูแบบนี้นะ [tâa - mueng - kít-tĕung - guu - àh • gôh - maa hăa - guu - bàep níi - ná] if - you - miss - me - [particle] • then - come visit - me - like this - [particle]

Style doesn't say anything. He just smiles at Fadel fondly and in love. Fadel didn't preemptively break up with him last episode and even though there is a barrier between them, Style can still go see Fadel and Fadel also wants Style to come see him. It's not ideal, but things could have been much worse, so Style is happy and also makes the best out of the situation. Just like he always does.

Fadel then asks about the garage and it's the first time we learn that Style's dad is starting to retire and that Style is starting to be busy. This will come up later in the episode again, but for now everyone is still happy. Then Fadel asks about his burger restaurant and both we, the audience, and Fadel learn that it's been sold. Fadel then says he'll find a way to buy it back once he's out of prison and once again we're handed information that will be relevant later in the episode.

Style being Style immediately announces that he'll be helping Fadel find a new place, if he can't get back the old one. And now it's Fadel's turn to smile at Style fondly and in love. Style then asks if Fadel wants anything special. But Fadel doesn't need anything. "Just seeing your face will last me a whole month." And again, the literal wording doesn't really change anything here, but if you're curious, this is what he's saying:

Just you visiting me like this makes me happy for a month. แค่มึงมาหากูแบบเนี่ย กูก็อิ่มใจเป็นเดือนละ [kâe - mueng - maa hăa - guu - bàep nîia • guu - gôh - ìm-jai - bpen deuuan - lá] just - you - come visit - me - like this • I - [sentence link] - happy, pleased - for a month - [particle]

Fadel uses the word อิ่มใจ [ìm-jai] here (which I translated as "happy") and that's funny to me personally, because this word already came up when I was discussing a different sentence from episode 11 with my Thai friend. You know when Fadel and Style are in the kitchen in episode 11 and Fadel talks about how he wants to do what he loves with the person he loves? And then he says "It makes me happy". The word that was translated as "happy" in Thai is อิ่ม [ìm], which actually translates to "full". And I had my friend watch the scene and asked "What does he mean 'full', what does that mean in this context??" and my friend explained that in this context it means "happy" and mentioned the word อิ่มใจ [ìm-jai], which he also explained to mean "happy". The literal translation, though, is actually "full heart" (as in the heart is full → you're happy). And then this exact word that I learned comes up in episode 12, I love it. So yeah, Fadel is basically telling Style that he doesn't need anything, because Style visiting him in prison is enough to make is heart full/fill up his heart for a month. And from the way Fadel raises his eyebrows and smiles cheekily when he says the อิ่มใจ [ìm-jai] part, I assume it's just as cheesy in Thai as it is in English, especially judging by Style's reaction afterwards.

Style is amused, impressed, as well as touched by Fadel's cheesiness and asks: "What did they feed you in there? How come you're this sweet?*"

*ทำไมถึงหวานขนาดเนี้ย [tam-mai tĕung - wăan - kà-nàat níia] how come, why - sweet - to this extent Official subs: You're way too sweet.

If you read last episode's meta you might remember how I went over the development to from โหด [hòht] (= harsh, aggressive, brutal) to หวาน [wăan] (= sweet) and I just love how this time around, the word โหด [hòht] doesn't even get mentioned anymore. They went from Style using only the word โหด [hòht] in episode 4 ("No matter how harsh you are, I'm still hooked on you." / Official subs: "It doesn't matter how scary you are, I'm still hooked."), to them making comments about and discussing Fadel being both harsh (โหด [hòht]) and sweet (หวาน [wăan]) in episodes 7, 9, and 11, and now in the finale Style only uses the word หวาน [wăan] (= sweet). It's the polar opposite of episode 4. I love it.

(By the way, I'm not gonna copy and paste all the direct quotes again, so if you wanna look at the lines and the development of "harsh vs sweet" in detail, please refer to section 7 of my ep11 meta.)

Style continues to say "If you say such sweet things, it'll only make me want to hold you and kiss you even more, you know?" and I'm just gonna share the literal wording again:

The sweeter like this you are ยิ่งมึงหวานแบบเนี่ย [yîng - mueng - wăan - bàep nîia] the more - you - sweet - like this the more I really want to embrace you and (sniff) kiss you on the cheek, you know that? กูยิ่งอยากกอดอยากหอมมึงมากเลยรู้ป่ะ [guu - yîng - yàak - gòht - yàak - hŏhm - mueng - mâak loiie - rúu - bpà] I - the more - want - hug, embrace - want - (sniff) kiss - you - very much - know - ?

In the official subtitles Style says just "kiss you", but the word he uses here in Thai is หอม [hŏhm] which, from what I've picked up so far, usually refers specifically to a kiss on the cheek, especially those sniff-kisses. And that's what prompts Fadel to turn his head and offer his cheek to Style — because Style specifically asked to kiss Fadel's cheek.

Also, something about the way Style says this and the way he emphasizes and drags out the word หอม [hŏhm] kind of really reminds me of the way he emphasized and dragged out the word หวาน [wăan] (= sweet) when he shouted "My meat is sweet, I tell you!" in episode 3, and watching these two lines back-to-back actually shows the development so beautifully:

In episode 3, Style is so very loud and he doesn't mean what he is saying at all, he isn't taking his words seriously whatsoever. His words are a performance and the world (or rather the market, in this case) is his audience. In episode 11, his words are still a performance, but now it's a private show for Fadel and Fadel alone. Fadel is the sole member of his audience and what Style is saying isn't meant for anyone else but Fadel. Style is serious about it now and he really means it. By the episode 12, Style is still loud in his personality, but compared to episode 3 his demeanor is so much calmer and he is also much more grounded.

The difference is also in Fadel's reaction: in episode 3 when Style isn't taking what he's saying and doing seriously whatsoever, Fadel doesn't have time for him. He rolls his eyes and just leaves him standing there. In episode 12, when Style means every single thing he says and does, Fadel actually leans closer and then presents his cheek to Style, going along with Style's antics instead of blocking or ditching him. Style blows a cheek at Fadel and we leave them as they continue to make heart-eyes at each other.

No. 2: This Is Torture

Style puts on his cheerful face when he's in front of Fadel, and while I don't think any of the above was a mask, because I think he is definitely genuinely happy to talk to Fadel, there is still some frustration that Style only lets out as soon as he's away from Fadel, similar to how he didn't fully cry until Fadel was completely gone at the end of last episode. "Kant, I can't do this," Style complains and let me just share the real vibe of his sentence:

Ai'Kant, I can't fucking do this anymore. ไอ้กานต์ กูแม่งไม่ไหวแล้วว่ะ [âi Kant • guu - mâeng - mâi - wăi - láew - wâ] Ai'Kant • I - [rude interjection] - not - able to, can - anymore - [rude particle]

I usually don't bother to point out sanitized subtitles, but here I thought it was appropriate, because first of all, Style using curse words and rude language really underlines just how frustrated he really is about this from his first line of the scene on and second of all, to me with the cursing it comes across as even more dramatic and I mean, the drama is what we've all come to love about Style, isn't it? Kant agrees and once again Style is much more dramatic in the original wording than he is in the official translation:

What's torturous is going in and being able to chat only for a few minutes. ที่มันทรมานอ่ะ คือเข้าไปคุยได้ไม่กี่นาทีไง [tîi - man - tor-rá-maan - àh • keu - kâo bpai - kui - dâai - mâi gìi -naa-tii - ngai] that - it - torture, be tortured - [particle] • is - enter, get in - talk, chat - be able to, can - not many - minute(s) - [particle] Official subs: The worst part is only getting a few minutes to talk to him.

Yeah. Style explicitly calls it torture that he can only see Fadel's face but can't touch him. He continues with the drama:

We're close, but so damn far away. ใกล้แต่ไกลฉิบหายเลยมึง [glâi - dtàe - glai - chìp-hăai - loiie - mueng] close - but - far - [impolite intensifier] - [particle for emphasis] - you Official subs: We’re so close but it feels so far.

Style is frustrated, almost downright angry even. Kant agrees again and when Style then asks "Is there no way we could hold them in our arms again?" There's a hint of desperation and impatience now mixed in with the frustration. Kant informs Style that there's a special visiting day, but it's only once a year. And here we have the biggest clue as to just how unhappy Style really is with the situation. Style, who usually stays optimistic and tries to find the bright side in things, is very dissatisfied about those news. Even positive Style can't see how the special visiting day is a good thing. Because once a year just really isn't enough, no matter how he looks at it. Kant throws him a glance. Style is sitting in the passenger's seat, head downcast, looking very dispirited and crestfallen.

Kant thinks some thoughts for a moment. Then he announces "I think I have an idea that will give us more than just a hug." Style lifts his head again. He's listening.

No. 3: Prison Break

For Kant's idea to work they need Captain Christ's help and they go meet him in a parking lot. They let Captain Christ know they wanna get into jail to see their boyfriends and Captain Christ actually asks the reasonable question of "Can't you just visit them?" No. They cannot. Because looking at them through a barrier is simply just not enough. Style starts listing all the things he wants to do to Fadel and he's clearly thought about this a lot. He gets lost in his own world a little the longer he goes on, clearly seeing everything he's describing in front of his mental eye, clearly seeing Fadel himself in front of his mental eye. And in a parallel to both episode 4 and episode 11, Style trails off at the end, leaving it up to the audience to imagine just what exact kind of things Style wants to do to/with Fadel (fanfiction, anyone?). Style pulls himself out of his fantasy and back into the real world, sighing and shaking his head in a way that reads to me like frustration about the fact that he can't be doing all of that. Kind of like Come on, man, get it together... The circumstances won't let you have your fantasies anyway. When the shot changes to Captain Christ, we can see that Style is even looking towards the ground. We can't see his face, but just from his dissatisfied expression just now we could interpret his hanging head as disappointment or sadness or both about not being able to do all the things he just talked about.

Captain Christ says that Style is crazy in love and from the way that Captain raises his eyebrows and the way the corners of his mouth twitch into a bit of a smirk when he's done speaking has me think Captain Christ was saying it to tease Style, but I think the teasing passes right by Style, because he makes a skeptical face, kind of like a bit of an annoyed and maybe slightly defensive What?? or maybe even a bit of an And what's wrong with that?

Captain Christ discards his cigarette and starts asking questions about just how exactly Kant and Style plan to get into prison, pointing out that he had just helped Kant wipe his slate clean. Kant explains that they aren't planning on getting themselves arrested and asks if Captain Christ knows anyone inside. Captain Christ says he does, then asks: "Don't tell me you want me to help you reenact Prison Break?"

Special shout-out to Style's reaction, because it's definitely in my top 5 moments of the episode, if not my absolute favorite highlight of the episode:

His face makes me laugh and giggle so much, it just really cracks me up. It's like he's thinking to himself Oh I sure wouldn't mind a little prison break... or maybe even Oh this is totally not the exact thing I've been fantasizing about. Let's be real, this would be Style's ideal scenario. But unlucky for Style, that's not the plan that Kant has had in mind.

No. 4: Vocational Training

Kant's idea was to go do some kind of volunteer work (or something along those lines) at the prison. Style, of course, teaches fixing cars, and it's interesting that Fadel actually shows up for that, because without knowing Style was gonna be the one teaching, Fadel could have easily chosen a different activity instead, since we never actually saw him be interested in fixing cars. Maybe Fadel heard about it and it made him think of Style and decided to go check it out in honor of him or to feel closer to him. Either way, Fadel actually shows up to Style's class and from the way Style's jaw drops a little bit I wonder, if this comes as a surprise to Style, since it's not like Style specifically told Fadel he was gonna come in.

Pronoun change! You might have noticed yourself, but the very first thing Style says to Fadel is khun. Style is pretending not to know Fadel. Style continues to speak using no pronouns at all and when Fadel answers, he goes along with Style's pronoun change, using phom to refer to himself. The two of them continue to use the polite phom/khun for the rest of this specific conversation.

Fadel says he doesn't know anything about fixing cars and Style replies it's fine, because Fadel can learn about it. Then he says "If you want to, that is." The expression that Style uses here in Thai is มีใจ [mii jai] which is made up of มี [mii] = "to have" and ใจ [jai] = "heart, mind", so literally it translates to "have (a/the) heart". My friend explained that in this context this phrase means "to have the intention to do something". The funny thing is, though, that I asked my friend about this specific phrase a couple of episodes ago, because Style actually uses it when they're standing by the broken down car in episode 8 when he teases Fadel "Either a hitman like you still have his humanity, or you’re in love with me." In other words, the phrase มีใจ [mii jai] can also mean "to be in love" and now I'm wondering if this specific word choice with this double meaning was very intentional for this episode 12 scene. Especially because Fadel then huffs and smiles a little.

Style walks up to Fadel and tells him "I'll show you every nook and cranny of a car. You'll definitely find some use for what you learn from me. But if you still can't fix cars after that, I'll fix them for you," still using polite pronouns and particles to address Fadel, and somehow this whole thing just really reminds me of their little roleplay at the garage back in episode 5. The way Fadel's eyebrows shoot up and he huffs in amusement really raises the question if Fadel is wondering what kind of payment Style will take for fixing Fadel's car. At the same time, Style offering to fix Fadel's car also works as a callback to the circumstances in which they first met: Style has fixed Fadel's car once before, maybe even twice, if we assume that Style fixed the jeep again between episode 8 and episode 9 when it broke down.

No. 5: A Man Has Wants, A Man Has Needs

At the end of class, Fadel is working on the car and Style uses the chance with everyone else distracted for a little private chat with Fadel. And now that they don't have an audience listening in and appearances to keep up, they're both back to the rude pronouns guu/mueng. Fadel likely sort of already expected that Style would find a way to get to him, because he says he had thought Style would do something illegal to get inside the prison and I think the majority of the fandom thought similarly. I personally realized Kant and Style would be working in prison when I went to rewatch the episode promo like two or so days before the episode and realized that the blue clothes that Fadel was wearing in the shots where Style kissed him on the cheek and threw him against the wall looked like the prison uniform while Style was in normal clothes. At first I thought the shot of the cheek kiss by the car was when Fadel was out of prison again and that it was set in Style's garage, but once it hit me that they were clearly fixing a car while Fadel was in a prison uniform while Style wasn't, that's when I realized that Style was likely there as a volunteer worker (or something along those lines) rather than a prisoner. Unfortunately, I was too busy trying to get my ep11 meta done, so I didn't make a post about my discovery which means I don't have receipts and this brag is completely worthless. Ah, well. At least my ep11 meta is done.

Style says "This is way better" and steps closer to Fadel, reaching out his arm right into Fadel's personal space, seeking proximity before he even says it out loud or touches Fadel at all. Fadel responds to it by immediately moving his own arm closer to Style's hand and while I know that Joong most likely did this as part of their "choreography" so that Dunk would have an easier time grabbing his arm for when Style talks about touching Fadel, the thing is if we're looking at it from the character's perspective, well, Joong might have known Dunk was gonna grab his arm, but Fadel didn't know Style was gonna grab him and so I love this small interaction anyway. Style reaches into Fadel's personal space with his hand and Fadel immediately moves his own hand closer to Style.

And it's only then that Style says: "I get to be close to you and to touch you just like I wanted to." Then Style sneaks a kiss on Fadel's cheek, just like he said he wanted to do in his first scene of the episode. Fadel gets as stressed about it just like I did when I watched the episode for the first time. I mean come on, Style, there are still people around!! I swear to god, the amount of times I've had to remind myself during the prison part that this was a romcom and that this was the final episode of the show and that nothing too bad was gonna happen now...

Fadel scolds Style, but Style doesn't care. He points out: "Why would I come here if I don't get to do anything with you at all?" The whole point of finding a way to get inside the prison was to be able to touch Fadel, to kiss him, to hold him, just like Style was so very desperately wishing he could do in the very beginning of the episode. And he's not gonna pass up that chance, especially when it's been a while since he actually got to feel Fadel's skin.

Fadel sees the guard walk around and tells Style "I can't help you." Then Fadel continues to be grumpy, scolding Style "You said you'd be patient, and you're already losing it?" Style is so used to Fadel's grumpy personality by now that he isn't fazed in the slightest. He comments it with a very quick huff to the side, then goes "A guy has wants and needs, you know?" He smiles a little when the words are out of his mouth and observes Fadel's reaction, eyes fixed on him attentively. Fadel lifts his head, looking a little done, but ends up breaking anyway after staring at Style for a moment. Fadel laughs and turns his head away to hide it, then looks at Style one more time, before directing his attention back to the car. Style watches him with a fond smile and affectionately shakes his head as if to say That's so you of you to first be grumpy, only to fall for my charm in the end anyway, you silly goose. As if I don't know you by now, my love.

After that, Style goes back into teacher mode in order to officially end the class. And I just love how the wide-shot reveals that now both Style and Fadel have their hands in each other's personal space close to the other person's body, their arms criss-crossed. And I also love how Style leans right into Fadel, touching him more when he goes to address the whole class.

Good job at pretending not to know each other, boys. Really. Very inconspicuous.

Fadel does move away from Style a little a moment later while Style continues his "see you next week" speech. But we can still see just how much Style missed touching Fadel, because he seeks out proximity again by tapping Fadel, casually touching him again immediately after he is done ending the class.

Then his eyes also find Fadel's face again, who looks at him very amused. And now that class is over, Style can finally do what he's really here for.

No. 6: Loyal to You

When we cut back to them, they've found a hidden corner and Style is shoving Fadel against a wall, kissing him with great urgency. Once they break apart, Style tells Fadel "I've been dying to do that since the moment I saw you", smiling a very satisfied smile. Fun fact, this time around Style is actually less dramatic in the original wording:

I've been wanting to do this since I saw your face. กูอยากทำแบบนี้ตั้งแต่เห็นหน้ามึงอ่ะ [guu - yàak - tam - bàep níi - dtâng-dtàe - hĕn - nâa mueng - àh] I - want - do - like this - since - see - your face - [particle]

Fadel laughs and says "You're crazy", to which Style replies "Love will make people do crazy things" and let me just share the original wording for a second:

Love makes us do something crazy like this. ความรักอ่ะ ทำให้คนเราทำอะไรบ้าๆ แบบนี้แหละ [kwaam rák - àh • tam hâi - kon rao - tam - à-rai - bâa bâa - bàep níi - làe] love - [particle] • make that, cause - people, we - do - something - crazy - like this - [particle] Official subs: Love will make people do crazy things.

The reason why I'm sharing this isn't, because the translation is inaccurate in any way, but rather because this line reminded me of another line Style says in episode 7 and I just want to point out the similarity in the original wording that isn't as clean in the official translation:

Love makes us do something stupid. ความรักมันทำให้คนเราทำอะไรโง่ๆนะ [kwaam rák - man - tam hâi - kon rao - tam - à-rai - ngôh ngôh - ná] love - it - make that, cause - people, we - do - something - stupid - [particle] Official subs: Love sure makes you do something stupid.

It greatly amuses me that Style went from "Love makes us do stupid things" to "Love makes us do crazy things". Style, lover of love, willing to do stupid and crazy things for the sake of love. He is stupid and crazy enough to even find a way to get into prison for the sole purpose of making out with his boyfriend, because who can wait five whole years, amirite? Style immediately proves his point by continuing to kiss Fadel. But Fadel doesn't let Style kiss him for long, because he has something to say: "Save your sweet words." Funfact, he uses the word นำเน่า [nam nâo] here, which my friend explained to mean "soapy" (as in soap opera like). I think Fadel just called Style "dramatic" without actually calling him dramatic, and I think that might also be the reason why Style steps back with a sigh, looking kind of disappointed and annoyed, before answering Fadel's question of "How did you get in here?"

We know being called dramatic has been a touchy subject for Style before and so has been being pushed away. I think Style had a moment of Does he really not appreciate that I'm here now? Does he not appreciate my efforts? But Style doesn't comment on it, doesn't start an argument, and instead answers Fadel's question. He explains that he'll be teaching at prison every week now thanks to Kant's connections and then says:

I'll get to come and see you every week. จะได้มาเจอมึงทุกอาทิตย์เลย [jà - dâai - maa - jer - mueng - túk - ah-tít - loiie] will - get to - come - see, meet - you - every - week - [particle] Official subs: So I'll see you every week.

Although when Style says this, it's not as joyful as you might expect. There is determination in Style's voice, because he is determined to do this, but there is also a bit of a challenging edge to it and I think it comes from his sudden worry that Fadel might not want him here after all. It's a challenge in the sense of Well, are you happy about me being here once a week from now on or not? He keeps his eyes fixed on Fadel and when Fadel then huffs and smiles almost in disbelief, the look on Style's face softens a little bit before he leans in to kiss Fadel again.

But once more, Fadel isn't letting Style kiss him for long, before he speaks again: "You know… You don’t have to do this." Style goes still as he waits for Fadel to elaborate. And Fadel does:

It's fine if you visit me once a month or once every three months. มาหากูเดือนละครั้งหรือสามเดือนครั้งก็ได้ [maa hăa - guu - deuuan lá kráng - rĕu - săam deuuan kráng - gôh dâai] (come) visit - me - once a month - or - once every three months - it's fine Official subs: I don't mind seeing you once a month or once every three months.

Ah. There it is. Fadel is pushing him away again. Or so Style thinks. Of course Fadel is saying this to be considerate of Style's time and schedule (after all, Style did tell him that things at the garage were getting busy), not wanting Style to get tired and exhausted in the process, but what Style hears is I don't want to see you that often. And now Style is seriously done.

He steps back, tilting his face in a Really, now?? way, presses his lips together unhappily, then raises his eyebrows and firmly tells Fadel: "I did everything I could to be with you, you know?" Style's next question is another challenge to Fadel:

Are you not moved? ไม่ซึ้งบ้างหรอ [mâi - séung - bâang - rŏr] not - touched, moved - any - ? Official subs: You don’t appreciate that?

Fadel breathes out loudly and tilts his head like Oh, come on, it's not like that. But Style is really annoyed now and continues to say: "Or did you already find someone here? I'd expect it of a popular guy like you." You heard him use the anglicism "hot" here, right? Because the second sentence goes more like:

You're hot anyway. ฮอตอยู่แล้วนี่มึงอ่ะ [hot - yùu - láew - nîi - mueng - àh] hot - be - already - [interjection] - you - [particle]

A little extra info from my Thai friend: according to him in Thai this word doesn't necessarily refer to someone's appearance and to physical attraction, but rather it is used to express someone has a quality or skill that is desirable.

Now I think Style actually being jealous for real can be a valid interpretation of him asking Fadel if he found someone new in prison, but to be honest, personally I don't really think so, or rather I think real jealousy is the case only on a surface level. Because Style knows Fadel, Style knows that Fadel doesn't easily open up to others. Style knows first hand how much work, effort, and persistence it takes to get to Fadel's heart. Style also knows Fadel would absolutely kill him if Style ever cheated on him and so I don't think Style would expect Fadel to be a hypocrite and go cheat on Style just like that himself. So I don't think Style actually expects Fadel to have found himself a new boyfriend in prison for real. No, in my opinion this is about something else deep down. I think Style is actually hurt that Fadel is (seemingly) pushing him away again, the way Fadel has done before so often. And Style has felt hurt from that before, and he's argued with Fadel about that before (most recently last episode during their last supper, and in episode 10 the scene where Style demands to help with the mission as well as the scene where Fadel cries in Style's lap). And I think playing it over apparent jealousy is Style's way of letting Fadel know that he's sulking about this, without starting a full-blown argument. Because at this point Fadel should know better than to keep pushing Style away, especially when Style is putting in so much effort in their relationship again. And part of me also wonders if Style was trying to avoid being called "dramatic" again (remember: touchy subject) if he had outright complained about being pushed away, while jealousy could maybe be taken as a "more valid" or more expected or acceptable reason to be mad.

Style starts to walk off, upset, because fine, if Fadel doesn't want him here then he'll leave him alone. But Fadel catches his arm. Style is sulking and it's Fadel's job now to make up with him. And Fadel does: "No matter where I am, you're the only one for me." Fadel holds him back, pulls him back in, doesn't simply just let Style go. And then promises his loyalty to Style. Something that Style has promised to Fadel many, many times. Fadel's efforts to get Style to stay placate Style again. This is all Style wants: for Fadel to show that he, too, wishes for Style to be in his life and be willing to work for it, the same way Style constantly shows he wishes for Fadel to be and actively works on Fadel being by his side. Style's face softens again, he smiles a little and lets Fadel kiss him.

They go back to making out against the wall. Well. That is, until the prison guard walks in on them. They quickly jump apart and Style rambles some orders about cleaning up, before walking off. And I love that Style can't help but touch Fadel one last time, before he leaves. He really has gone too long without touching Fadel and has to make up for it now.

Language fun fact: Technically, a pronoun switch from guu/mueng to phom/khun isn't actually happening here, because Style actually uses no pronouns at all when he talks to Fadel in front of the guard! Fadel does drop one polite "krub", but that's about it. There are no pronouns this time, but I think it's safe to assume they would have switched to phom/khun again in front of the guard, if the conversation had gone on.

Side Quest: Year 2 or Literal Horny Jail

Alright, sooo, there isn't that much interesting happening in year 2, or rather not interesting enough that I really wanna get into detail and turn this into its own section, but of course I couldn't leave it entirely unaddressed. So a side quest, it is. The brothers' second year in prison turns out to be a happy one, with both couples really obsessed with each other as if they'd only just started dating, sneaking kisses and make-out sessions whenever they can. Somehow, they're never found out. Everyone is happy and pleased, and this is especially significant for Fadel and Style. They're happy and in love and still very much into each other. We don't actually get any scenes of Fadel and Style together during year 3, but I think it's safe to assume that things are going this well throughout the third year, too. Well, until things aren't. Until suddenly we get dropped down to the ground from the high that we had just been taken up to.

No. 7: Busy Bee

Year 4 comes around and with that all the happiness gets thrown right out the window. Because Style, without a warning, suddenly doesn't show up to class one day and instead waits for Fadel in the visiting room. When Fadel walks in, Style addresses him happily, but his happiness is not as bright as we know it can be, it's a bit subdued. Style asks why Fadel took so long and I think it explains why Style doesn't sound as cheerful as usual: I think while Style was waiting, for a moment he got really worried that Fadel wouldn't come to see him.

By the way, yes, Style did phrase it as a question in the original wording:

Why were you so slow? ทำไมช้าจังเลย [tam-mai - cháa - jang loiie] why - slow, late - so much, very much Official subs: Took you forever.

Fadel explains he went to the garage first, but Style wasn't there. Style apologizes for it, then explains he's been very busy. Style had already mentioned at the beginning of the episode that he was busier compared to before, and now he's even more busy than that. So busy that he might not be able to come in and teach as often anymore. He tells Fadel just that and looks at him with sad, apologetic puppy eyes.

Fadel asks why that is and when Style answers, he puts on a very enthusiastic voice in an attempt to make the situation sound as positive as possible. Style explains that he's in charge of the garage now that his dad is retired and updates Fadel on how he's thinking of expanding the business and how he has a lot of projects going on that allowed him to meet more people in the industry. Style's little mechanic world is getting bigger for him, isn't that exciting? Style just wants to share the joy of his good news with Fadel.

Fadel nods a bit unenthusiastically and says "That's good. It's alright. I understand" and I think Style can tell that in reality Fadel is upset just as much as the audience can, even if it might not immediately seem like he can tell:

Style continues to smile, but it's like he's putting down the enthusiasm that he's just put on, and he looks at Fadel. Style is always looking at Fadel. And Style has become an expert at reading Fadel. There is no way Fadel's disappointment passed right by Style, even if his expression stays positive and affectionate and full of love. Style doesn't say anything and I think he's actually waiting to see if Fadel will fall back into his old patterns and usual downward spirals again. And I think Style keeps his expression joyful and warm in order to give Fadel as little reason to think that Style doesn't care about him anymore. But the trauma sits deep within Fadel, leading him to say: "You don't have to come here to teach, you know?"

This is the exact reaction that Style was expecting of Fadel and we can tell, because Style is immediately ready to calm Fadel's anxiety without missing a beat: "Don't worry. I'll make time for it." It's really not that big of a deal. And in case it is a big deal, Style has already thought of a solution, a compromise: "But if I can't, I'll just come visit you instead." Because let's be real, Style would miss Fadel just as much and wouldn't want to miss out on seeing Fadel's face. "Is that okay?" he asks. Do we have a deal? Fadel stares at Style for a second, then nods awkwardly, but looks very unconvinced and doesn't say anything. Style raises his eyebrows a little, then leans back, keeping his eyes fixed on Fadel.

As I said above, I think Style could already tell Fadel was upset a few lines earlier, but I think this is the moment where he realizes that Fadel is more upset than Style had initially thought and that Fadel isn't gonna be easy to cheer up about this. It really does seem to be a big deal to Fadel. So much so, that Style now chooses to address it after all: "What's wrong? Are you mad at me?" And I adore how Style continues to interact with Fadel in such a loving, kind way and continues to smile at him warmly.

Style isn't attacking Fadel when he asks Fadel if he's mad, instead he's reaching out to him kindly and in a way that makes it very clear that Style is asking out of concern for Fadel's well-being and not because he's trying to start an argument. In fact, Style is very much trying to not start an argument right now. Fadel says he isn't mad at Style. "I understand you have to live your life. I'm in here so there's nothing I can do but wait." And that's when Style's smile finally falls completely.

I think part of him is concerned for Fadel and his mental state, and part of him is also worried where this might be going. I think the underlying question here is Are you... about to preemptively push me away again because you're falling into a downward spiral again?

Fadel continues. "Style, I think..." Style's face is very serious now as he listens to Fadel to find out where this is headed. Fadel says "Our timing just wasn't right at all" or word for word:

We met at the wrong place at the wrong time. เราเจอกันผิดที่ผิดเวลาไปหน่อยว่ะ [rao - jer gan - pìt - tîi - pìt - weh-lah - bpai nòi - wâ] we - meet each other - wrong - place - wrong - time - too little - [particle]

Style is quiet for a moment and I think now there is also a hint of fear added to the seriousness in his expression as well as confusion.

I think Style does very much understand that Fadel really is in the process of pushing him away again, but I think he's confused about what exactly Fadel means by "wrong place, wrong time". Style needs to know what exactly Fadel is getting at in order to properly fight against Fadel's downward spiral and so he asks. Fadel explains and Style listens intently. "I think you should focus on your future." Style is wasting many hours just to come to see Fadel at the prison since it's so far away. Style doesn't earn any money working at the prison. Style is better off getting paid fixing some expensive cars. "You shouldn't waste your time on me." Fadel is once again simply just presuming Style's perspective on things without actually asking Style about it. But at least Style now has a lead, something specific he can counter. And Style does, and just like before he talks to Fadel in a very kind, warm way: "It's not a waste of time. You're my boyfriend. I will always make time for you. Work is important, but you're also important to me." Style is also back to a warm, happy face now, the seriousness from a moment ago hidden completely.

He then also speaks a little reminder to Fadel that Fadel's behavior right now isn't entirely fair to Style either: "Before you went to jail, you told me to focus on my own life. Now that I'm doing exactly that, you are sulking?" And again, this isn't supposed to be an attack. When Style says this, he is more serious than he was mere seconds before, but Style's voice is still rather soft, and while his words come with a certain urgency, there are no sharp edges to his tone. Style stays patient with Fadel, clearly trying to talk this issue out without getting into a full-blown argument.

By the way, the word that Style uses here that was translated as "sulk" is งอน [ngon]. Avid watchers of Thai dramas might have come across this word before (especially those who also follow actors outside their series). The dictionary thai2english translates it as "sulk" and "pout", and I knew it meant something like this, but I still went ahead and asked my Thai friend about it, in case he had something interesting to say about it. And he did, and I'd just like to share it here, because I think some of you will love to read about it, too. According to my friend งอน [ngon] is when you are "upset and disappointed, because the other person should know better, but it's not significant enough to be properly angry". My friend also said that it's a whole thing: for example when you are งอน [ngon] you can't actually admit to it, and it's the other person's job to come to you and make up with you (this step is called ง้อ [ngóh]).

So Style asks if Fadel is งอน [ngon] (and I hit pause after Style's sentence to have my friend explain this word, before continuing the scene) and Fadel says that no, he is not งอน [ngon] (after which my friend exclaimed: "See!! Exactly!! He's denying it!! Like I said!!"), then tells Style "Just do what you want. Don't take me into account." Fadel gets up to walk away and Style calls out for him to wait. But Fadel is done with the conversation. "I have work in the kitchen. Don’t want these prisoners to starve." With these words, Fadel leaves Style sitting there, alone, looking unhappy.

No. 8: Be Patient, My Son

Next, we find ourselves in Style's garage and we are shown that Style is indeed working hard, earning money. Even his dad comments on it: "You always only fixed a few cars a month. What's going on?" Style's dad then asks if Style is in need of money and Style says he just wants to save it. And that's when we, the audience, slowly start to realize that Style is likely trying to buy back the restaurant. But Style's dad doesn't know this, so he starts asking whether Style is intending to buy a new car, and when Style says no, he's not, his dad makes a guess for a "love nest" (เรือนหอ [reuuan hŏh]). I didn't ask my friend about the term เรือนหอ [reuuan hŏh], but according to thai2english and sanook.com it refers to a home for newlyweds which, uh, is quite different from "a place (such as an apartment) used for amorous and often illicit rendezvous", which Merriam-Webster defines love nest as. Style's dad asks if Style is getting married, and that's the fifth reference to a FadelStyle marriage. Here's a recap, in case you forgot:

Ep6: "wear make-up with me" vs. "will you marry me" (explanation here)

Ep7: proposal prank

Ep8: Fadel and Style taking part in an actual wedding

Ep11: Style's dad outright telling Fadel and Style to get married

Ep.12: Style's dad asking his son about marriage again

I can't believe this show did not end with them actually getting married, or at the very least engaged. It's gotta be my biggest beef with the show, not gonna lie.

Anyway, so Style informs his dad that he is not, in fact, getting married and goes on to tease his dad, asking if his dad doesn't like seeing his son working hard. The comment makes his dad laugh, although he's already got another question on his mind: "Where's Fadel been, though?" I do think it's kinda funny how this question comes up only after more than three years. Did Style's dad really never wonder about it? Or has Style always casually mentioned Fadel over the years and his dad just assumed that Fadel only happened to come over when Style's dad happened not to be there for it? Why did it take more than three years for this question to come up?

Either way, Style quickly comes up with the excuse that Fadel is in culinary school abroad. And from the way Style says it, it seems like Style is making up this excuse on the spot, which again has me wonder... what exactly has Style been telling his dad the past 3+ years?

Style says that Fadel will be back, which is the truth this time, and Style's dad is happy to hear that, because he's actually rooting for Fadel. We love to hear it. Then Style's dad tells him "You need a lot of trust when it comes to long distance relationships. Be patient, son" and I'm so glad we got this very scene, following the last one. I think this is something Style kinda needed to hear at this point. Because Fadel had just walked out on him, clearly upset, and now Style's relationship is in trouble. And I adore that Style gets told some comforting words, even if his dad actually has no idea what's really going on. "You need trust," his dad tells him, "be patient." And Style thinks about it.

These words hit Style, they mean something to Style. He goes very quiet while his dad continues talking. "You'll be back together soon." Style's dad puts a comforting hand on Style's shoulder and Style's reaction is one I find very difficult to describe and put into words (see gif below). It's like, on the one hand his own optimistic and hopeful nature agrees with his dad, but at the same time he also doesn't quite believe his dad, as if he's thinking Well, whether we'll be back together or not depends entirely on how stubborn Fadel is and if he stops being mad at me. I think part of Style lowkey fears that Fadel might not be willing to make up with him again. Style looks at his dad who then gives him an encouraging nod and Style returns a small smile and a little nod himself.

Style's dad walks away and Style's smile slowly falls as he gets lost in thought and looks down at the money in his hands.

Style is most definitely thinking about the state of his relationship with Fadel and his dad's encouraging words right now. And we, the audience, are now all going Oh, he is SO buying back the restaurant for Fadel!! Honestly, it's my own personal headcanon that Style started working out a plan to buy it the moment he got back from that very first visit where Fadel was like "I'm gonna buy back the restaurant."

No. 9: Making Up

We don't know how long it's been since Fadel and Style talked last, but I assume it's been a while, since last time we checked Style said he might not be able to come as often and now we learn from Bison that Style is at the prison twice a week these days. Personally I assume it's been at least a month if not more. I feel like 3 weeks should be a long enough time for "twice a week" to have become an established pattern that Bison can point out, plus at least one or the other week for Style to work on his projects before that. There's also the chance that it's been even longer than that. Either way, it's been quite a while for sure. After all this time, Fadel is still งอน [ngon] at Style and as my friend explained to me, it's Style's responsibility to make up with him. And so Style does. Surely also boosted by his dad's encouraging words, Style takes the first step towards Fadel by having Bison deliver a small origami bouquet. We know for a fact that Style was not the one who made the bouquet, because Bison does explicitly say the bouquet came "from someone who takes origami training" and I don't think it was a lie, because I think Style would most certainly have bragged about his origami skills if he'd made it himself. However, I do think the little Heart Burger flag is something that Style did make himself. And it's the first hint of confirmation that we get that Style is indeed trying to buy back the restaurant. Fadel doesn't make the connection, though. The little gift still touches him enough to finally seek out Style again instead of actively avoiding him.

Style is wiping the board when Fadel finds him. We don't know if Style is about to start a class and is wiping the board in preparation so that he would have space to write on once the prisoners come in or if he just ended a class and now he's doing some clean-up for next time. My personal headcanon is that we're seeing Style after class actually. It's been established that the prisoners help putting stuff back once class is over and with the way Style is completely by himself when the scene starts it's my headcanon that Style is being slow and hanging back on purpose, because he is desperately hoping Fadel would come to see him, even if Style isn't really expecting it. And the reason why I believe Style thinks Fadel won't show up despite the gift is because Style isn't cheerful the way he usually is when he's purposefully staying optimistic (like he was for example when he's talking to Kant about the cat in front of the abandoned diner in episode 6, or in episode 7 when there is clearly something off about the assassin brothers and Kant points it out and Style insists that Kant is overthinking it or in episode 9 when he makes wishes for his dead body and so on). No, Style looks very serious when the camera first cuts to his face.

He does smile a little once it's fully sunk in that Fadel is really here, standing in front of him, and only then does he put on a bit of a cheerful, teasing voice when he tells Fadel: "Thought you'd never see me again." Didn't I say Style was a little afraid that Fadel might not be willing to make up again? Fadel bluntly asks what Style is here for and Style drops the positive voice. Instead, now his voice sounds more concerned and regretful when he asks "What are you mad (งอน [ngon]) at me about?" As per the etiquette that my friend explained, Fadel immediately denies that he's mad (งอน [ngon]). But then he finally does tell Style what the problem is: "I told you I don't like expectations because I don't want to be disappointed." (Btw, Fadel did indeed say this pretty much word for word when he was crying on those steps in episode 10.) Style then says "But I didn't do anything to disappoint you."

I actually had a question about this line to my friend as well: for the English translation the sentence was phrased in past tense and to me that sounds like Style is talking about something specific maybe back around that time when he failed to show up to teach, an incident clearly set in the past. The thing is, though, that Thai doesn't actually have verb tenses. There are words you can add to a sentence that will clarify whether a statement is about the past or the future, but the verb itself doesn't change and sometimes things can get a little muddy. This is one such case. And I was confused, because especially in retrospective where we know Style is actually in the middle of trying to get back the restaurant (he also states later in the scene that he is in the middle of doing something that he isn't sure is gonna work yet, meaning the restaurant has not yet been acquired at this point) I thought Style's statement could maybe also be taken as What I'm doing and working on right now isn't something that is wronging you. Since Style trying to buy back the restaurant is an on-going project that is happening off-screen at the very same time, it's not a one time thing that happened back when Fadel first got mad at Style. No, it's still happening at this very moment. I discussed this with my friend who thought about it for a moment and then decided that the present perfect tense would probably be the best solution here, since it implies that it's about something that started in the past and is still on-going (or still has an effect) in the present.

So Fadel says he doesn't want to be disappointed and Style tells him "But I haven't done anything to disappoint you." Because what Style has been doing will be the opposite of a disappointment for Fadel. If it works out, that is. Because if it doesn't, if Style fails then it will be a huge disappointment to Fadel. And so Style doesn't want to tell Fadel about it just yet, precisely because he knows Fadel doesn't like disappointments. But Fadel is missing all that context, and so to him the situation reads very differently. And he's hurt. And now he finally opens up to Style about it: "Coming to see me regularly, getting me used to seeing you, making me miss you, and suddenly disappearing… How do you think that made me feel?" Style doesn't reply, he just keeps looking at Fadel with a serious face.

I think he feels bad that Fadel feels like this, but I think he truly doesn't dare to reveal what he's doing. Style knows just how important the burger restaurant was/is for Fadel and how much he loved the place and I think Style assumes it will be an even bigger disappointment and blow to Fadel if Style outright tells him and then fails to deliver. And it's a disappointment that Style really doesn't want to see, because I think it would crush Style himself. I think Style would actually beat himself up about that. And so he keeps his plans to himself, because he's afraid of failure. This specific failure is one he really can't afford. Style stays silent and doesn't answer Fadel's question. Fadel continues to rage: "If you can't do it, don't promise me anything. Do you know how easy it is to overthink when I'm here?" Style still isn't saying anything. Fadel is done. "If you have something important to do, just focus on it. I don't want to slow you down."

Fadel turns to walk off angrily. Style moves at the speed of lightning to hold Fadel back. Fadel finally talked to him and Style is not gonna let him go that easily. They still have something to clear up. Fadel stops and turns back to look at Style again. Before Style even says anything, he pulls away his vest to reveal the heart burger pin that Fadel gave to him. The pin that is very important to Fadel, the pin Fadel is very protective of. In a way, the pin is Fadel's heart which he gave to Style only last episode. And it's right there. Fadel's heart. On Style's heart. In Style's heart. "You're the most important thing to me," is the first thing out of Style's mouth. Style is extremely serious right now. All of Style's decisions, all of Style's actions revolve around Fadel. And he really doesn't want to lose him. And even if he's afraid of failure and disappointing Fadel if he can't pull through with his plan, losing Fadel is worse, and so Style finally opens up at least a little bit: "I'm doing something for both of our futures." Again, Style is extremely serious. He isn't hiding behind a positive attitude, his words aren't performative in the slightest. This is extremely serious and extremely important. I think Fadel does believe him, but wants to confirm that it's true and also doesn't want to be kept in the dark. "What are you doing?" he asks, then throws Style a challenge, almost an attack: "Can you tell me?" You know your behavior is hurting me, will you keep it up for the sake of whatever it is you're apparently doing?

At this point everyone in the audience is screaming HE'S BUYING BACK THE RESTAURANT FOR YOU, YOU DIMWIT!!!!! at Fadel. But Fadel still isn't making the connection, despite the hint with the Heart Burger flag and the Heart Burger pin and Style dropping he's working on their shared future. Can you tell me? But Style can't. He doesn't quite dare. "Can you wait a little longer? I want to be certain about it first. I want to make sure I really can do it." This is a plea. Style is pleading with Fadel. I told you as much as I could and I really am trying my best. For us. Will you please give me the benefit of the doubt and be considerate of my feelings in this situation, too? As I said, I think Fadel did believe Style earlier already, but I think now Fadel really understands that what Style is doing is very important to Style, but that it comes with certain insecurities that Style isn't ready to open up about. Style never pressured Fadel to open up about anything he wasn't ready to open up about and Fadel isn't about to pressure Style either. Style is loud and clear on the fact that he has Fadel in mind and that Fadel is important to him. Fadel doesn't immediately answer and instead contemplates on the situation and Style's plea while Style keeps his eyes fixed on him. Fadel's reaction, Fadel's response really matters to Style right now. Their relationship depends on it. And then Fadel finally yields. Because Style and their relationship is just as important to Fadel. Even if the situation isn't ideal. "You really love surprising me, don’t you?" Fadel finally says. And let me just share the original wording, even if it doesn't make much of a difference:

You always like to surprise me. มึงนี่ชอบเซอร์ไพรส์กูตลอดเลยนะ [mueng - nîi - chôp - sêr-prai - guu - dtà-lòt - loiie - ná] you - [interjection] - like - surprise - me - always - [particle] - [particle]

(Alt. translation: You're always surprising me.)

I like that in Thai Fadel says Style always surprises him, because to me it highlights how for the past 12 episodes we really have watched Style surprise Fadel all the time. Over and over again. In many different ways. God, I love them, I love their story so much. Anyway. Back to the scene. Fadel says this and Style understands that Fadel is no longer outright pushing him away or blocking him anymore. Style replies:

Then come learn how to fix cars with me again. งั้นมาเรียนซ่อมรถกับกูใหม่นะ [ngán - maa - riian - sôm - rót - gàp - guu - mài - ná] then - come - learn - fix, repair - car(s) - with - me - again - [na] Official subs: Come back to class.

The phrasing of the official subs sounded a bit too much like a direct order in their written form, especially without the context of Style's friendly tone, which is why I wanted to share a softer phrasing for the purpose of this meta. Because Style's words aren't an order. They're an invitation. If you've forgiven me, come see me again regularly. They're a peace offering. Fadel stays grumpy and grumbles: "I've been taking the course for years, and I still don't know how to fix anything." It's a stab at Style, but not an aggressive one. And it doesn't have anything to do with their original conflict. Fadel is leaving that conflict behind. Fadel has forgiven Style, even if he doesn't outright say it. Style finally laughs (or rather snorts) for the first time this entire scene and for a moment it looks like he's about to cry from relief that Fadel is no longer angry and that their relationship is saved:

Fadel continues with his grumbly teasing: "All you do is yap." The relationship really is back on. Style teases Fadel right back: "But that's exactly what you love about me, isn't it?" This isn't just Style going along with Fadel's teasing, it's also Style telling Fadel No matter how grumpy you pretend you are, no matter how much you were ignoring me, I know you never stopped loving me, I know you still love me now.

And finally, Fadel breaks. He laughs for a moment. Because he can't deny Style's call-out. Both, that he still loves Style and that he likes that Style is a chatty cat. Fadel pulls up the Heart Burger flag from the origami bouquet. Style laughs in surprise. Why? I don't know. You decide. Maybe he thought Fadel had stomped on it in dramatic anger. Or maybe he's thinking Oh wow, did the bouquet and the flag actually work? Is that what finally made him come see me again? Fadel is still holding up the flag and says that it's cute. And again you can really see the relief in Style's eyes, alongside his joy that things are looking better now with Fadel.

Style asks Fadel to clean the board and Fadel grumbles about it, but does it anyway. Because when does Fadel not give in to Style.

No. 10: Show, Don't Tell

We reach year 5 and finally the brothers are released. We check in with our foursome on the day the brothers get to go home. Bison walks through the door first, runs up to Kant and hugs him. In the meantime, Style is sat on the hood of the car. Fadel doesn't immediately walk up to him, but instead stops behind/next to Kant and Bison who discuss just how much they missed each other. Style doesn't pass up the opportunity to tease Fadel (and I think Style, too, wants a proper greeting, thank you very much):

Hey. This couple said they missed each other. เฮ้ย คู่นี้เขาบอกคิดถึงกันด้วยนะ [hóiie • kûu níi - kăo - bòhk - kít-tĕung - gan - dûuay - ná] hey • this couple - tell - miss - each other - too - [particle] Official subs: Hear that? He said he missed him and all that. So how about you, did you miss me? แล้วมึงอ่ะ คิดถึงกูป่ะ [láew - mueng - àh • kít-tĕung - guu - bpà] and - you - [particle] • miss - me - ? Official subs: Did you miss me at all?

(Sharing this mostly because I feel like it and I know a lot of you love the language bits, not because the literal wording makes any difference in this case lol)

Fadel announces "I'm not saying it", but the reality of the matter is that Style's wish is Fadel's command. And so Fadel walks up to Style and plants a kiss on his lips. "I'm showing it."

But before they break apart, Style pats Fadel like easy tiger, we have company. I do think this is about Kant and Bison's live slug reaction and not because Style doesn't want to be kissing Fadel right now. I think Style is trying to be considerate of the other two. After the kiss, Style gets up, hugs Fadel and over his shoulder nods at Kant and Bison and boastfully points at Fadel like Did you guys see that?? That's my man!! It's the exact same energy as he had at the end of episode 9 when he was raising his eyebrows at Kant and Bison in the boat. It's the You guys don't have a Fadew like me energy. (I'm out of images for this post, but here's a parallel gifset.) I love just how proud Style always is of Fadel, and how happily he'll show him off.

While Fadel and Style are busy hugging, Kant and Bison discuss where they should go to now. Style jumps in to ask "Hey, can you guys drop me off near my place first?" and Fadel gets confused: "What do you mean, 'your place'? The garage?" Fadel's confusion might be a little weird, because why exactly would Fadel be so confused about "my place"? That seems pretty self-explanatory in English, no? Well, let me explain. Because there's something really interesting going on here in Thai...

Now, I didn't go back and rewatch the entire show to check (if I did, it would be March until I finally drop this meta lol), but as far as I remember they usually refer to Style's place as "the garage", or อู่ [ùu] in Thai. But here for this line, when Style say "my place", he does not use the word อู่ [ùu] (= garage). Instead, he asks to be dropped off at his ร้าน [ráan]. Now what does that mean? This word means "store" or "shop" and like in English it can be paired with other words to specify just what kind of shop it is, for example:

ร้านหนังสือ [ráan năng-sĕu]: ráan (store) + năng-sĕu (book) = book store

ร้านดอกไม้ [ráan dòhk mái]: ráan (store) + dòhk mái (flower) = flower shop

You may have noticed that I said Style says just ร้าน [ráan], without specifying what kind of shop it is. Because just like in English, you can drop the specification and refer to it as just "the shop" (or ร้าน [ráan] in this case).

Now here comes the interesting bit: this word is also used when referring to food related places such as...

restaurant = ร้านอาหาร [ráan aa-hăan] -> ráan (shop) + aa-hăan (food)

coffee shop = ร้านกาแฟ [ráan gaa-fae] -> ráan (shop) + gaa-fae (coffee)

Or, you know, it's also in... ร้านเบอร์เกอร์ [ráan ber-gêr]. Now, เบอร์เกอร์ is "burger", but written in Thai letters. I don't have to tell you what ráan burger translates to, do I?

Oh, and at his point I should probably also mention that while the characters usually refer to Style's place as อู่ [ùu] (garage), when they talk about Fadel's place (the diner) they usually call it ร้าน [ráan] (shop, restaurant).

So yeah. The moment Style dropped that he wanted to be taken to his ร้าน [ráan] instead of his อู่ [ùu] (= garage) was the moment I started screaming, because that's when I knew for sure Style had bought back the restaurant and more importantly, that he had succeeded in doing so (yes, I did scream as if I didn't already know they were gonna be back at the restaurant through the clips shown in the MVs and from pics the boys posted during the shoot where they posed in front of the burger shop sign and their clothes matched the ones from the clips lol).

As I already mentioned, Style refers to it as just ร้าน [ráan] without specifying what kind of ร้าน [ráan] it is and it's vague enough that Fadel doesn't catch on the surprise, but it's just weird enough for Fadel to get confused: "What do you mean, 'ร้าน [ráan]'? The garage (อู่ [ùu])?" Yeah, Fadel's confusion here is about Style's unexpected word choice, because usually Style doesn't refer to his garage as ร้าน [ráan] (= shop, store). This is how they used to refer to the diner before Fadel had to go to prison. Style tells him he'll know soon and urges him to get into the car. They all do and Kant drives off.

No. 11: Surprise Surprise

The surprise works. Fadel didn't see it coming. "You said it was sold to someone." Style nods, making a m-hm sound, an adoring smile on his face that just oozes love and care. I really wish I could add a gif or a screenshot of his face, but unfortunately there's an image limit. I mean, you've seen the episode. You know how head over heels in love Style looks throughout this entire scene.

Style explains he bought it back for Fadel who then says Style didn't have to do that. Style says "I worked my ass off to buy this place back for you." I'm not entirely happy with the phrasing in the official subs, because to me there is also a negative connotation hidden in the phrase "work one's ass off", in the sense of "I worked my ass off for [xyz] and you don't appreciate it". But that might just be my ESL brain, maybe the media I've consumed mostly used this phrase in a more negative context and now my brain associates it with that.

In Thai Style uses the expression ตั้งใจทำงาน [dtâng jai tam ngaan] which does translate to "to work hard", but this expression contains the word ตั้งใจ [dtâng jai] which means "to intend to" or "to mean". I think it highlights with how much intention Style did this for Fadel. Style really meant to do this, like he's meant a lot of other things he's said or done over the last few episodes.

And Style putting in so much work also really shows how much he's grown. Because in the first half of the show I kept wondering why he had so much time to run after Fadel. We were told Style works as a mechanic, but we rarely saw him do any actual work. Instead, Style was able to follow Fadel's routine at the market or at the sports field or was even able to randomly help Fadel work at the restaurant without any scheduling problems and I kept thinking... what about his job at the garage? Is he never working? How does he have so much time to bother Fadel? And earlier in episode 12 Style's dad actually confirms just that: "You always only fixed a few cars a month." So Style, indeed, had the time to keep bugging Fadel. And back then it seemed like he didn't really have anything to do, didn't really have a goal or any direction in life. But then Kant sets Style on Fadel. And suddenly Style has a mission. And then Style falls in love. And now he suddenly has goals to work towards. We saw it last episode already, when Style suddenly started to make plans (first, his elaborate plan on getting Fadel and Bison on the run and second, during his last supper with Fadel when Style suggests making a plan for their life and their relationship while Fadel was imprisoned), and now it's not just that Style has started planning, but he makes plans with a very specific goal in mind and puts all his efforts in to reach this goal. He's no longer running around doing whatever. Style has really matured in this regard, Fadel's influence has changed him and has made him grow.

When Style says how determined he was to work hard to earn money to buy back the restaurant, his voice is somehow both soft and firm at the same time. His voice is so soft and filled with so much love, but there is some urgency to it, because Style needs Fadel to know this and he needs Fadel to know that he wanted to do this for him. Style knows he didn't have to, but Style wanted to. And it's important to him that Fadel really understands this. Because over the years Fadel has so often blocked or disregarded or struggled to accept all the nice things that Style has done for him. And Style doesn't want his act of love to be devalued again, especially not when he has spent so much time, effort, and energy on it purely out of love. A love that is worth it.

It's finally hitting Fadel what Style was so busy with when Fadel was sulking at him. Style confirms with another "mh". God, Style's heart eyes are really off the charts in this scene. "I wasn't sure I could do it so I didn't tell you," Style explains. And then he tells Fadel how he managed to keep up the energy in order to succeed despite his uncertainty: "But the image of you being back in this restaurant gave me this great strength to fix at least a hundred cars." Style smiles a bright, adoring smile. He's so in love. Fadel takes Styles hand and thanks him: "Thank you for doing this for me and for waiting for me." When Style responds, he actually phrases his sentence in a less direct and more general way in Thai than he does in the official subs:

Well, when you love someone, you gotta be able to wait. ก็คนมันรักอ่ะก็ต้องรอได้ดิ [gôh - kon - man - rák - àh - gôh - dtông - raw - dâai - dì] well - person, people - they, he, she, it - love - [particle] - [sentence link] - have to - wait - be able to - [particle] Official subs: Well, I love you. Of course I can wait.

This is an interesting difference between the Thai wording and the English subs, because once Fadel and Style start dating, Style actually rarely ever outright says the words "I love you" (and neither does Fadel, by the way). The only time Style properly says it is when Fadel has him at gun point in episode 7:

But now that I know the real you, I love you for real, Fadel. แต่พอกูรู้ตัวจริงของมึงแล้วอ่ะ กูรักมึงจริงๆนะฟาเดล [dtàe - poh - guu - rúu - dtuua jing kŏng meung - láew - àh • guu - rák - mueng - jing jing - ná - Fadel] but - when - I - know - real you - already - [particle] • I - love - you - really, for real - [na] - Fadel Official subs: Now that I know you, I really love you, Fadel.

And then arguably he says it again in episode 10 when he comforts Fadel on the stairs, although it's up to debate if that really counts as a direct "I love you":

But that I'm still staying / But that I still stayed แต่ที่กูยังอยู่ [dtàe - tîi - guu - yang - yùu] but - that - I - still - stay Official subs: But I stay with you is because I love that you're you / is because I love you for being you เพราะกูรักที่เป็นมึง [próh - guu - rák - tîi - bpen - mueng] because - I - love - that - be - you Official subs: because I love who you are.

Any other time Style talks about "love", he never addresses Fadel directly but phrases it in a more general way, using the word คน [kon] which means "person" or "people" instead of a pronoun. Style does this in episode 10 just a little while after the above line:

The more I know how much you care about me, ยิ่งกูรู้ว่ามึงแค่ร์กูขนาดเนี่ย [yîng - guu - rúu - wâa - mueng - kâe - guu - kà-nàat nîia] the more - I - know - that - you - care (about) - me - like this, this much Official subs: Knowing how much you care about me the more I know that I don't love the wrong person. มันยิ่งทำให้รู้นะว่ากูอ่ะ รักคนไม่ผิด [man - yîng - tam hâi - rúu - ná - wâa - guu - àh • rák - kon - mâi - pìt] it - the more - make that, cause - know - [particle] - that - I - [particle] • love - person - not - wrong Official subs: makes me certain that I didn't choose the wrong man.

And he also does it in episode 9 when Fadel opens up about his ex for the first time on the island:

A person who risks their own life for someone they don't even know. คนที่เอาชีวิตตัวเองไปเสี่ยงเพื่อคนที่ไม่รู้จักด้วยซ้ำ​ [kon - tîi - ao - chee-wít dtuua eng - bpai - sìiang - pêuua - kon - tîi - mâi - rúu-jàk - dûuay sám] person - that - take - one's own life - go - risk - for - person - that - not - know - even Official subs: You risked your life for a total stranger. I love the right person. กูรักถูกคนแล้วละ [guu - rák - tùuk - kon - láew - lá] I - love - right - person - already - [particle] Official subs: I know I'm in love with the right man.

And Style does it again now in episode 12, standing in front of the restaurant with Fadel. And let me just repeat the line with an even more literal translation this time (this sentence really doesn't work well in a literal translation in English, especially because English also comes with plural forms rip):

Well, people who love, they gotta be able to wait. / Well, a person who loves, has to be able to wait. ก็คนมันรักอ่ะก็ต้องรอได้ดิ [gôh - kon - man - rák - àh - gôh - dtông - raw - dâai - dì] well - person, people - they, he, she, it - love - [particle] - [sentence link] - have to - wait - be able to - [particle] Official subs: Well, I love you. Of course I can wait.

This time Style actually switches it around, because previously คน [kon] implicitly referred to Fadel, while this time คน [kon] actually refers to Style himself. And for some reason the official translator went for a direct "I love you" when Style neither says "I", nor says "you". In the entire series, Fadel and Style rarely say the words "I love you" word for word to each other. It's very clear that they do love each other, but they never outright say it. Instead they say things like "I'm worried about you" or "So what if we're old? I'll still wanna be with you" or "I don't feel so sad anymore. I'm happier." And they don't really need to tell each other I love you anyway, because their actions speak for themselves. It's like Fadel said the moment he got out of prison: "I'm not saying it. I'm showing it." And yes, this line was about missing Style, but really, this sentiment also goes for their love, for both Fadel as well as Style. So Style doesn't directly say he loves Fadel, instead Style just implies it and it's only in the next line where he doesn't mention the word "love" that he directly addresses Fadel:

Whether it's 5 years, 10 years, 20 years, I can always wait for you. จะ 5 ปี 10 ปี 20 ปี รอมึงได้เสมอแหละ [jà - hâa - bpii - sìp - bpii - yîi-sìp - bpii - raw - mueng - dâai - sà-mĕr -làe] will - 5 - years - 10 - years - 20 - years - wait (for) - you - be able to - always - [particle] Official subs: Whether it’s five, ten, or twenty years, I'll wait for you.

And this is the point where I get jumpscared by Dunk's voice suddenly blasting through my speakers. I wish the editors had made the music just a little more quiet. It gets me every single time, because every single time I watch this scene I get so immersed that I completely forget about the jumpscare. Fadel and Style lovingly stare at each other while I scramble to save the health of my eardrums. Then Fadel says he'll work hard to pay Style back, but Style doesn't want that. Technically Style is the current owner, and if Fadel were to pay him back then it would be like Fadel was buying the restaurant from Style. But that's not how Style wants to see it. Because this isn't Style's restaurant that Fadel has to buy from him. No, it's their restaurant. It's already their restaurant. Because obviously if Style owns it, then Fadel owns it, too. It's both a gift to Fadel and something that Style bought for them to share. Because "I'm here to support you in all your dreams." Because no one means well for Fadel more than Style does.

Fadel says "I sure am a lucky guy. I've been doing bad things my entire life, but I have the best boyfriend in the world." Style throws his head to the side, smiling, half in an Oh, you sweet-talker way and half in a No need to mention it, kinda way. Then he says "It's all thanks to Kant for daring me to take you out." And this is actually a reference to the title. The Thai name of the series goes:

He hired me to flirt with a hitman เขาจ้างให้ผมจีบนักฆ่า [kăo - jâang - hâi - pŏm - jìip - nák-kâa] he - hire - that - I - hit on, flirt, woo - assassin

And this is what Style says:

[...] for hiring me flirt with you. [...] ที่จ้างกูมาจีบมึง [tîi - jâang - guu - maa - jìip - mueng] that - hire - I - come - hit on, flirt, woo - you

Style laughs and Fadel smiles, too, and then Style pulls the Heart Burger pin out of his pocket. Without a word, he carefully pins it onto Fadel's shirt while Fadel makes heart-eyes at him. It's a parallel to Fadel putting the pin on Style last episode. The ring pin exchange is complete. Style says "From now on, everything is yours." They're all but married. Style still has his hand on Fadel's chest by the pin. Fadel goes to grab it. They smile at each other. Then they turn and together they enter the restaurant, their restaurant, their shared future, hand in hand.

No. 12: Dinner With Mom

At night, when Fadel and Style are done at the ร้าน [ráan] (restaurant) they do go to Style's อู่ [ùu] (garage). And I love how Style immediately calls out that Fadel is here. Style is so excited to tell his dad the joyful news. But but before he has the chance to share his good news, he gets surprised with bad news instead. A dinner invitation.

Our foursome once again gets together to fight evil. And of course, the evil dinner invitation calls for an urgent outfit change for all four of them. They're greeted by two men holding out guns, and Style is a bit startled for a moment, but otherwise keeps calm. The men demand Fadel's and Bison's guns and the brothers hand them over. The men then walk into the dining room and the the four of them look at each other before following the men inside where Lilly is waiting for them together with Babe and Style's dad tied up on their chairs. Kant and Style immediately call out to their loved ones. In general, I just love how worried about his dad Style is throughout the entire scene and how he keeps checking and communicating with him. I actually made a whole separate post about this with lots of gifs where I really go into detail about it, because the relationship between Style and his dad really needs to be appreciated in all its glory in gifs and tumblr simply just has an image limit of 30 gifs per (desktop) post. I can't afford to spend like 20 of them on Style and his dad alone. It was already tricky enough to limit everything I wanted to showcase for this episode to only 30 images in the first place. Anyway. Back to the scene.

Once again Style finds himself in danger, and once again he mainly stays out of the conflict between the brothers and their mother. We also aren't shown Style's face that much, so we can only make guesses as to how he feels listening to Lilly monologuing on and on and Bison raging at her. Style probably feels worried, especially for his dad. We know this, because in the beginning of the scene, before everyone sat down at the table, Style was very fixated on his dad and you could tell that he wanted nothing more than to run over to him and check if his dad was unharmed. When everyone is sitting at the table, sometimes the camera cuts into a wideshot and while we only see the back of Style's head, we can tell that he's looking at Lilly, so I assume he's paying close attention to her words and actions.

At some point, Kant chimes in: "It was me who exposed you. I masterminded the whole thing. If you want to kill someone, kill me. Just let my brother go." Style immediately jumps on board: "Kant was right. Let my Dad go. He doesn't know anything. I don't care what you do to me." We already learned in episode 9 that Style is very much willing to give his own life for the people he loves and so it doesn't come as a surprise at all that he's willing to offer himself up for his dad. However, in comparison to episode 9 there now is a hint of uncertainty to Style's voice, because he really doesn't know Lilly and so he can't predict her actions and reactions unlike he could with Fadel in episode 9. Lilly laughs a mocking laugh while Style and his dad exchange glances. And I love that they exchange glances here, because, to quote from my other post:

i love that style is communicating with his dad again at this very point, because style offering himself up will also affect his dad. his dad might be physically fine if style trades his dad for himself, but emotionally the dad will be ruined if lilly takes his son's life, especially when he's already had to deal with the loss of his wife years ago. style being willing to sacrifice himself isn't nothing, in fact, it's a very big deal and so the two of them communicate about it

Lilly continues to monologue and announces she has some poisonous drinks prepared for the occasion. Style turns to his dad and says "Dad. I'm sorry." His dad had absolutely nothing to do with this, his dad is totally innocent and Style hates that his dad was pulled into this and that his dad's life is now in danger.

We then don't see any shot of Style at all while Fadel and Bison plead with their mother and offer to continue working for her. We don't get to see Style immediate reaction to Lilly's announcement that she'll let her sons and their boyfriends go if her sons give their brother-in-law and their father-in-law the poisoned drink. There is a long pause and it's only right before Lilly asks "Can you do that?" that the camera goes back to Style and we see there is shock and concern. Shit's getting real.

Fadel and Bison say yes, they can. Style is most definitely very worried right now, but to be honest, I don't feel like he's all that terrified, I think that's more of a secondary feeling. He watches closely as Fadel lifts the glass towards his dad lips, and Style is clearly anxious and agitated and maybe a little afraid, but he doesn't say a single word to stop Fadel and I think deep down he does trust Fadel not to kill his dad, trusts Fadel to find a way out with dad unscathed. After all they've been through, I think Style trusts Fadel not to cause him such great pain. Although I do think Style is ready to swap the glass out of Fadel's hand at any given moment. But Fadel pulls through. From one moment to the next Fadel throws the wine into his mother's minion's face, attacks him, and Bison follows his lead. Style and Kant jump up to free their family.

Fadel and Bison kill the henchmen without remorse and end up with Lilly at gunpoint. Kant calls out for Bison not to kill her and Style offers to call the cops. Now that the immediate danger is over, we get to see a little bit of that Style again who tries to mediate and solve conflicts with as few people coming to harm as possible. But Fadel orders him not to get the police involved, so Style drops his phone, still concerned and not entirely happy, but without further protest. Style, Kant, and their family watch the brothers poison Lilly without interrupting them.

And I kinda love we do get to see Style witness Fadel actually murdering someone, because in my ep5 meta I wrote this:

"I promise that no matter who you are, I'll still like you." And there it is. Style's decision. [...] Fadel doesn't believe [Style's] promise, though. "Words are cheap. I'll do that when you're ready. You can judge, then." Again, I think Fadel has a point. [...] Because yes, Style may say he'll like Fadel no matter his occupation, but Style still hasn't seen the killer in action. Fadel's words mean Decide whether you still like me or not only when you find out my real occupation before you promise anything as much as they mean Decide whether you still like me or not once you've actually seen me murder someone in front of you before you promise anything. Style has already made a decision about the former, but he is yet to make a decision about the latter.

And so I love that Style is now able to make the choice of loving Fadel having seen Fadel truly at his worst, having seen him murder someone in cold blood.

I know for this meta I focus purely on character analysis, and I don't really criticize (whether it's acting performances or script writing or directing or whatnot), but I do wish the series would have spent a little more time on this, on Style seeing Fadel kill. Because Style is clearly affected by what he is witnessing.

Something truly horrible is happening right in front of his eyes. And it's a shame that Style finally seeing the killer in action gets kind of just glossed over in the very next moment when "I'm a killer, I'm a bad person, you should be wary of me" "I love you anyway" has been such a big theme for these two. It's kinda weird that we go from Style looking this horrified to Style being happy and content in bed, as if nothing had happened. That kill doesn't even get mentioned again. I feel like you could jump from the scene in front of the diner straight to Fadel and Style in bed and not notice that any major traumatizing event has occurred in between. Ah well. Let's move on.

No. 13: 100%

We come back to Fadel and Style sitting in Style's bed at night. Fadel is wondering if he should change the restaurant's name and Style thinks it's fine as it is. But Fadel says he wants Style to be a part of it, too, so Style suggests "Just add an S and a heart" and I'm just thinking... So, Heart Burgers? Or Hearts Burger, since he talks about an additional heart? Or maybe the S in an entirely different position? Whatever name Style is thinking of, according to him with an added S and another heart it'll be a better version than Fadel's version, because:

Because you have another heart right here. เพราะมีหัวใจอีกดวงเพิ่มขึ้นมาอยู่ตรงนี้ไง [próh - mii - hŭua-jai - ìik - duuang - pêrm kêun - maa - yùu - dtrong níi - ngai] because - have - heart - another - [classifier] - increased - come - be - here - [particle] Official subs: With another heart, that is.

Fadel likes Style's idea. And before I move on, I just want to go into more depth about this little sequence for a moment: after Fadel explains that he's thinking of changing the name because he wants Style to be part of it, too, Style looks like he thinks about something for a moment before he says "I don't think it needs much change." Of course, in this moment he is thinking about what exactly could be changed if Fadel really does want to change something, but the thing is, Style already likes the restaurant the way it is. He doesn't necessarily need the restaurant to change if Fadel is changing it just because he thinks Style would want him to change it. It really reminds me of episode 6 and the theme of "Be who you want to be, not who someone else wants you to be". If the restaurant represents Fadel's life, Style already likes Fadel the way he is. But if Fadel does want to change, there is something important to do: he needs to add a S(tyle) to his life. And another heart (Style's heart). With that, it will make a much better version of Fadel's life than it was before. And Fadel actually agrees.

I can't help but think back to the last time they were in Style's bed at night, all the way back in episode 5. Back then, Fadel really struggled with sharing his life with Style and letting him come close. Now Fadel actively wants Style to be part of his life. Now that he's done being a hitman, the restaurant can finally be Fadel's life, but it's not his restaurant alone, it's theirs. Getting to be part of Fadel's life is something Style has desired for a long time now and has even fought and argued with Fadel over on multiple occasions, and now Style is finally granted his wish. Fadel is finally letting Style in. When Fadel agrees that a better version would be one with an added S(tyle), Style looks at Fadel for a moment and thinks about something again.

Style knows Fadel loves him. And that actually reminds him... Style turns to grab something off the shelf next to him and proudly presents it to Fadel. The key to Kant's car. It's finally Style's. And I know from a story crafting perspective it makes sense for Style to receive the car only at the very end, but it's still really funny to me that Style was given the car only now, when Fadel has without a doubt been head over heels in love with Style for the past five years already. Because Fadel was without a doubt already head over heels in love with Style before he went to prison. But however long it took, what really matters is that Style did get the car, because a deal is a deal. And Style did indeed succeed. "If I could make you fall crazy in love with me, I'd get his car." When Style says that, his voice is full of affection and there's also a bit of teasing. I know you're head over heels in love with me. But Fadel tells Style to give the key back to Kant:

Because I don't love you that much. เพราะกูไม่ได้รักมึงขนาดนั้น [próh - guu - mâi dâai - rák - mueng - kà-nàat nán] because - I - not - love - you - to that extent Official subs: I’m not in love with you like that.

Style wordlessly stares at Fadel for a second while he's processing those words, blinks, then lowers his head. Really now?

Fadel looks at him, a grin most definitely hidden in his eyes, then huffs and pointedly ignores Style. It's a challenge. Style puts down the car key. Challenge accepted. Because Style is not one to back down from a challenge. This personality trait has stayed consistent until the end of the series. Style turns to loom over Fadel. "Are you sure that you're not head over heels in love with me?" Because Style knows with unwavering certainty that Fadel is. He just needs Fadel to admit to it. I've already talked about how Fadel and Style hardly say "I love you" to each other. Style, the person who loves so fiercely and so passionately and so loudly, already rarely says it himself and Fadel says it even less. In fact, ever since they've started dating the only other time Fadel has said he loves Style since that one time Fadel directly said it the night he found out about the betrayal in episode 6 was in the kitchen in episode 11 when he said he wants to "do what I love with who I love" and even then he actually doesn't literally say the words I love you, but rather just implies it. If anything, Fadel likes to claim he isn't actually in love with Style. And so I think Style wants to hear Fadel say differently out loud for once, even if Fadel's actions speak louder than his words anyway.

But Fadel continues to ignore him. I think Fadel is waiting to see what Style will do in order to draw the words out of Fadel's mouth that Style so desperately wants to hear. It's like he's testing Style's persistence. Style kisses Fadel's cheeks and asks "How much do you love me?" But Fadel isn't giving in to Style that easily and that quickly. "Only 30%." He knows Style is chasing those 100%. Style ups the ante and kisses Fadel's neck. This is a game now. "How much do you love me?" Fadel says "60% now" and looks up at Style, waiting to see what Style's next move is going to be. This time, Style goes for the mouth, goes for a full make-out session even. Then Style asks again: "How much do you love me?" He grins at Fadel expectantly and he's definitely also a little bit satisfied and proud. Fadel doesn't reply immediately, just puts his hand on Style's face and looks at him for a moment. And then Fadel finally gives in and says "100%".

Again, this meta isn't supposed to be a review or a criticism piece on the story, but I do think it's a bit of a shame that the conversations about percentages wasn't about trust. Because I feel like the main question with them over the series wasn't really Does Fadel love Style? but rather Does Fadel trust Style? And trust was also the big theme of episode 5, the episode that Fadel and Style's game in episode 12 is a callback to: "A guy like me doesn't go trusting someone 100%." And a little later in episode 5, when they're in Style's bed, Style more or less opens the conversation with "Sometimes you make me feel so scared, and sometimes you make me feel so safe," which again is about trust, not love. This theme continues also in episode 8, when Fadel handcuffs Style to the bed, because "I don't trust you", not because he doesn't love Style. Episode 8 is all about Style trying to gain Fadel's trust again, not his love: "What do I have to do for you to trust me?" The episode 12 dialogue does work in a way, because Fadel did say he didn't love Style or didn't like him all that much multiple times over the course of the series, and he even makes a comment like that in this very scene that we're currently discussing. But the thing is, Style never actually believes Fadel whenever Fadel claims he doesn't love Style (that much) and Style even calls him out on his "I don't love you" claim in episode 8: "You might be good at cooking and shooting, but you're not very good at lying at all." Style never doubted that Fadel loved him, but trust has been a very big issue. In fact, trust also played a role only this very episode when Fadel was sulking at Style when Style couldn't come in to teach in prison. Because in episode 10 Fadel had told Style "I don't want to have any expectations just to be disappointed" and Fadel had trusted Style not to disappoint him, except then Style seemingly does disappoint him and that hurts Fadel ("I told you I don't like expectations because I don't want to be disappointed." [...] "Coming to see me regularly, getting me used to seeing you, making me miss you, and suddenly disappearing… How do you think that made me feel?"). It makes Fadel feel like he can't trust Style, not that he can't love Style. And the question in that scene is whether Fadel can trust Style to really be working on something for their future that Style can't share yet, it's not whether Style loves him. So yeah. I feel like the dialogue about the percentages would have been a much cleaner parallel/callback if it had been about Fadel trusting Style, not about Fadel loving Style. Because we all, including Style, know that Fadel has always loved Style. He just didn't always trust him. But now he does. 100%. Style once decided "One day, I'll be your 100%" and now he is. They celebrate that by making out some more.

When they part again, Style tells Fadel "You know what? Having you is worth more than winning that car" and I'm filled with satisfaction upon hearing that, because I said more or less exactly the same thing three episodes ago in my ep9 meta:

[I]t's actually kinda funny, because Style agreed to make Fadel his boyfriend, but it's been how many episodes since they've started dating?? And we have yet to see Style with said car. [...] [A]s of episode 6 it was Kant who was still in possession of the car, despite Style and Fadel being head over heels in love by that point [...]. Style may have gone into it for the car, but he never actually took the car and by now the car is long forgotten. I didn't go and check, but as far as I remember Style hasn't even brought the car up to Kant ever since that scene in episode 4 where he initially came to claim it. At this point, Style would much rather have Fadel than the car anyway.

(Bolded for emphasis)

Now please forgive me if I skip the rest of the love scene, but I do want to get this post done before the end of the month, if possible. I think the main take-away is that now they both very much want each other and are very much into it, with nothing holding either one of them back.

No. 14: Driving Into the Sunset

Of course their last scene would be of them driving into the (metaphorical) sunset together in Kant's car that Style has finally won. Fadel and Style check in with Kant and Bison in Iceland. After the call, Fadel asks if Style would also like to go on a trip. Obviously Style wants to. "I usually travel with my Dad. Never done it with my boyfriend before," Style says, at which point, upon me showing my language buddy and Thai language consultant this scene, he goes "...the kidnapping, though?" and I break into laughter, because my friend is right. Yeah, Style, what do you mean you've never gone on a trip with your boyfriend? *gestures at episodes 8 and 9* Right, wots all this then?

I mean, technically you could argue that during that time Fadel wasn't actually Style's boyfriend, but let's be real, Style never got that memo. Or rather he went I recognize that the Council has made a decision. But given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it.

Anyway, whether it'll be their first trip, their second trip, or their hundredth trip, I don't think Style will ever say no to traveling with Fadel. Fadel suggests planning a trip later and then, at the mention of Style's dad, asks how Style's dad is taking the news of Fadel being an ex-assassin and ex-prisoner. I do think Style's dad is genuinely chill with it, but once again I wish the series would have dwelled just a little bit more on the aftermath of the Lilly incident and on how it affected everyone involved. Because it was quite a traumatic and brutal incident, and it's a bit jarring how everyone is all sunshine and rainbows from one second to the next. But for the sake of this meta and the next line, I'll just assume that everyone, including Style's dad, worked through it all off-screen. Style says that his dad is totally okay with it, because "He said I need someone with a past like yours to tie me down." The Thai wording is slightly different, actually:

My dad said someone like me needs to meet someone with a history like yours. พ่อกูอ่ะ บอกว่าคนอย่างกูต้องเจอคนมีประวัติแบบมึง [pôh guu - àh • bòhk - wâa - kon - yàang - guu - dtông - jer - kon - mii - bprà-wàt - bàep - meung] my dad - [particle] • say - that - person - like - me - have to, need to - meet - person - have - history - like - you

I like that in the original phrasing it doesn't state the "to tie me down" part. The Thai line leaves it up to the viewer's interpretation as to why exactly Style would need someone with a past like Fadel's. Personally, I took it in a "Style needs someone fucked up enough to be able to stand and handle and appreciate all of Style's unhingedness". And I don't necessarily think that Fadel would actively try to tie Style down, since Style's shameless loudness and Style's ability to unabashedly be himself and say things without a filter is exactly what Fadel loves him for. I think Fadel tying Style down ("taming" him *wink wink*) happens more as a byproduct of both of them influencing each other and changing into better versions of themselves when they're together.

The words of Style's dad make Fadel laugh. Then he says: "You know, I still remember what I promised your dad before I went to jail." Style looks over to him and asks "What did you promise?" Style smiles and I see both joy as well as curiosity on his face.

I think Style knows exactly what promise Fadel is referring to, but he's dying to hear the words out loud out from Fadel's mouth. His expression is also very expectant, almost challenging when he's done speaking. The little head tilt afterwards is almost like he's saying Pray do tell. Fadel replies: "I told him I'd go talk to him after five years." As I said, I think Style knew what the promise was, but I think actually hearing Fadel say it still gives him a thrill and causes butterflies in his tummy. He looks over to Fadel in pure delight.

And I love, love, LOVE that Fadel was the one to bring it up first. Because at some point after episode 8, when there were so many references to a FadelStyle marriage and I seriously started thinking about the possibility of a canon FadelStyle wedding or at least a wedding proposal (lmao joke's on me rip), I was contemplating about who of the two would propose first and who I'd prefer to do so. And I thought Style proposing would fit with his personality, especially since he himself said "I could spring a ring on you one day and just ask you to marry me." It seemed fit that the series would end with Style doing exactly just that. But then I contemplated some more and thought, actually, I would love it if Fadel was the one to propose. Because in the series it's always Style who is chasing Fadel, it's always Style proving over and over again that he really wants Fadel in his life while Fadel spends the majority of the series pushing Style away (and Fadel does it again even in the finale when he's mad at Style during year 4!). And I thought that it would probably mean the world to Style if Fadel proposed. Because it would showcase that Fadel wants Style in his life just as much as Style wants Fadel in his life. It would show Style that the feeling is mutual, that Fadel wants it for himself, too. That a marriage isn't something Fadel agreed to just because Style asked for it or talked him into it or anything like that. Fadel proposing would show Style that Fadel is choosing Style out of his own free will the way Style has been choosing Fadel over and over again. I'm once again reminded of @braceletofteeth's tags on this post:

#Style wants Fadel to claim him as his so bad it makes him look stupid #just like he takes pride in choosing his own man #he would be proud to be chosen as Fadel's man #delighted‚ if Fadel let others (and Style) know he's the one who earned the space reserved for his special someone #in his heavily secured heart #if he was so special to Fadel that he wouldn't want him to be taken away #or to share him with anyone else

Fadel asking for Style's hand in marriage, Fadel marrying Style would be Fadel claiming Style, it would be Fadel making an announcement to the world that Style is his and his alone. It would be Fadel choosing Style and Style would even have a ring to prove it. To prove that he is Fadel's. To prove that Fadel is his. I just thought Fadel being the one to propose would mean the world to Style. And judging by the joy in Style's face in the above gif, it absolutely does mean the world to him. That Fadel is the one to bring up the prospect of marriage.

Style asks if Fadel is serious and Fadel says yes, he is, but that he wants to have the chat only once the restaurant is up and running again (at least that's how I interpreted this statement). Style says "No need to hurry." He most definitely wants to marry Fadel one day, but I think he's got a point with this. After all, it's only now that they can finally start dating "properly", can finally experience the couple life with both of them out of prison, all cards out in the open, both parties trusting and loving each other mutually, and most importantly, without fearing for their lives. "No need to push yourself. After everything that we've been through, still staying together is already beyond anything we expected." Their relationship really is chill the way it is, there is no need to rush anything. They can get married when they both feel the time is right for it. I think that's what Style is getting at here. Fadel agrees. Then he says "I thought I'd die alone." Style knows that well. They discussed this last episode by the gravestone. And back then, Style had already announced that he wouldn't let Fadel get lonely in death. Now he says: "We'll die one day, but we'll die together of old age." They're gonna have that old man yaoi future together.

Fadel laughs, claims Style is cheesy, but still plants a big kiss on Style's lips. Uhhhh, Fadel, so what about the lecture you gave Style about safe driving the first time you guys met? All of that goes right out of the window as Style and Fadel continue to plant kisses on each other. How's that for character growth?

And off they drive into the night. Style's got both the car of his dreams as well as the man of his dreams. What more could Style want?

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11)

[jamiebluewind]

Warning! Pet illness, xray

A friend of mine a few states away had a pregnant female cat walk onto her porch and decide she lives now. She had 3 kittens. Since my friend/roommate @winterpower98 was looking for her first cat, we (other roommate/bestie, Winter/Gaia, and I) decided to take a trip down to visit and see if one of the kittens would work for her.

The thing is, she did fall in love with one! He's black with white markings, so the 6 year old had been calling him Eclipse. He's, curious, playful, and always trying to get into something. He loves Gaia. I mean LOVES her. And she loves him. Like... emptying her savings loves him.

Right before we arrived, our friend noticed a little lump on his belly. They thought nothing of it. And then, it got bigger. And bigger. And bigger.

After a week, we took him to a local vet to get checked out. He had a umbilical hernia. Luckily it stopped before his diaphragm, but the hernia was severe enough that he would need surgery to close it (a lot of articles talked about smaller ones closing on their own which is why we waited). He would also need special care for IBS symptoms and to keep his hernia from getting injured or obstructed before repair (which couldn't happen until he was big enough to go under anesthesia). He would need to come indoors for his safety and be separated from the others as his sisters pouncing on the hernia was causing issues (a week earlier than the 8 week mark).

I was honestly expecting Gaia to say it was too much for her to handle. Even told her that nobody would judge her for not being ready for that level of responsibility. That we could find an organization that could take him and get him the help he needed and find him a good home. He has two sisters she could consider, there were plenty of shelters back home with cats under a year old, and we could even check the town we were visiting and places on the way back home, so there were options. I knew how much it took to care for a kitten with health issues (my current cat required months of specialized care and there were plenty of scares along the way) and Gaia has no previous experience with cats outside of hanging out with our cats, so that's just starting on hard mode.

After a long serious talk on the responsibilities she was about to take on, she said she knew it would be hard but the thought of giving him up made her sick. That she would do whatever it took to give him a happy life for however long she has him. We aren't rich people, she's going back to college full time, she had only decided on him over one of his sisters that morning, and (again) this would be the first cat she has ever had. She went all in without a second thought.

The original quotes from various vets willing to do the surgery (not all vets can) were pretty insane, but luckily I found a non-profit that did the surgery for about half. My other roommate and I fully support her and chipping in what we can.

Eclipse is 8 week old and his surgery is scheduled in a month, but we are going to call in and check for cancelations since he's reached the minimum weight and age for anesthesia. Winter has been so busy caring for him that she's not had a chance to post about him, so I decided to do it on the drive home. I think the story is important because it raises awareness about an issue most don't know about and shows someone genuinely caring about a pet with special needs. As a disabled person who's went through a lot of ableism and survived abuse, it really hit me to see how much she loves him with her whole chest and doesn't ever approach his issues with anger or blame.

I don't ask for reblogs much, but I wanted to ask you guys to boost this. I linked Gaia's PayPal below if anyone wants to help take some of the financial burden off her, but you can also support her with messages and boosting this and her future post/s about Eclipse (cut her some slack guys, she's currently in tired new mom mode). I don't expect anyone to donate because I know you guys are mostly in the same shape as us, but I think showing Gaia support is just as important.

Now if you'll excuse me, the hyperactive boy got the zoomies and just jumped in the toilet XD

Edit: Late thing to add on, but a few days after posting this my other roommate/bestie Sarah decided to adopt his sister! Her name is Melanite, but her honey eyes have earned her the nickname Miel. Her and Eclipse have always been very close (often laying on top of each other), so it's great that they'll get to stay together.