#it was on a show called On the Waterfront

[sandymybeloved]

Excuse me but why didn't I know this existed before

I mean possibly becuase it isn't very good, but thats not the point

the point is I was scrolling through TARDIS wiki, as you do, when I came across a minisode I had never heard of before, went to the article to get other information to see if I could find it and

[ID: screenshot of a TARDIS wiki article reads "Either way this was Russell T Davies' first contribution to a piece of live action Doctor Who as he also served as script editor for the story." \end ID]

This is RTDs first televised doctor who story??!?!??!??!!!! Why hadn't I heard of it before???

(if you're confused about the places listed, this was made in 1989 to promote the The Ultimate Adventure, which was touring at the time)

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 8 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, angst, SLOW BURN

words: 10.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 8 ► let’s search the skies for a while, you and i

Stockholm replaced Copenhagen as the next location for Rated Riot’s European Tour, and it was Day 2 of the 14 days that Sid had given Jungkook to win this bet.

Because of that, Jungkook found himself living in a whirlpool of contradictions.

When you were in the room with him, the bet was all he could think about. It’s what held him back from approaching you, what stopped him from talking to you—out of paradoxical fear that this would count towards winning the bet, but not towards getting back together with you.

And when you weren’t in the room with him, all he could think about was that you weren’t in the room with him.

It was like this right now.

Earlier today, Yoongi had suggested that everyone met up for dinner at a high-class restaurant on the Strandvägen promenade after the show tonight. It made sense for everyone to agree – the band had a day off tomorrow and the restaurant was, supposedly, at a very beautiful spot – and Jungkook figured everyone would come.

Everyone did come. Except you.

And now thoughts of you made their way into his mind while his body winced at every slight noise, every minuscule movement that he noticed out of the corner of his eye, thinking—hoping—that it was you entering the room.

He could remember seeing you at the show—actually, it was difficult for him to see anyone but you when he was on stage; he’d just noticed how impossibly captivating your eyes looked with the stage lights reflected in them as you watched Rated Riot perform—but he wasn’t sure where you had gone afterwards.

He leaned over to Namjoon, who was sitting next to him at the restaurant table, and whispered awkwardly, “so, um, I thought everyone was coming to this dinner.”

Namjoon forced himself to look away from the streetlights reflected in the bay as the band and their team dined on the waterfront. He was still smiling, dazed by the overwhelming beauty of the place, as he murmured, “everyone did come.”

“No,” Jungkook objected before Namjoon could look away. “No, uh, see, our manager didn’t.”

“Oh, Luna said that she had something to do,” the producer replied. “But I think she mentioned joining us later.”

Jungkook knew immediately that that wouldn’t happen. In fact, as he scanned the table for your friends—Luna or Maggie—he glanced at Yoongi, who’d overheard the brief exchange, and shook his head when Jungkook’s gaze landed on him.

The whole band knew you well enough by now: if you weren’t here from the start, you weren’t coming. Luna probably only said that to Namjoon, because you asked her to.

Figuring there had to be a reason why you didn’t come – it was early morning back home, so it was possible that the label had contacted you, although Jungkook doubted it; they weren’t the type to call when things were going well – he looked over to his other side where Jude, Sid, and Minjun were sitting.

The three of them had already drunk a considerable amount of brännvin—the more it burned their throats, the more they seemed to enjoy it, the psychopaths—so they were probably unaware of how loud their conversation was.

He thought this was the perfect opportunity to slip out.

Granted, he probably shouldn’t have worried about his friends catching him leaving – they’d assume he was doing it to win the bet. And perhaps he should have deliberately tried to draw more attention to himself, to show off that he was going to win.

But he snuck out of the restaurant because of you, not because of the bet.

He didn’t think this through very well, however. A taxi van had dropped everyone off at the restaurant earlier, and the ride hadn’t taken very long. But, on foot, he was forced to walk for at least fifty minutes until he reached the parking lot where the tour buses were.

He tried to breathe in through his nose and out his mouth, so it wouldn’t look like he’d just run a marathon—although the muscles in his calves certainly felt like it.

He opened the door of the bus and peered inside. As suspected, you were half-lying in your bunk, laptop on your knees, airpods in your ears.

He entered and closed the door behind him with an accidental slam. There was no one else on the bus, but you didn’t lift your head; not even as he walked down the lane between the bunks, stopping in front of yours. Whatever you were listening to had to be loud enough to drown out the noise he was making.

“What are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to touch your shoulder. Your violent flinch at his touch made him flinch as he nearly tumbled backwards into Hoseok’s bunk.

“Jesus! Fuck!” you cried in horror, yanking the airpods out of your ears. “Stop doing that! What—why are you here?”

Straightening up, his eyes still wide, he replied, “I-I came here to ask you that!”

You kept your eyes on him, your heart still startled. “You came here from Strandvägen?”

“Yes.”

“On foot?”

“Yes.”

You knew Strandvägen was quite far from here, but you didn’t know Stockholm well enough to determine if his answer was plausible. However, his chest was rising and falling at an irregular pace, even though he was trying very hard to appear calm and relaxed, and that was a clear sign of physical exertion.

Still not blinking—as if he’d fade away if you closed your eyes even for a second—you furrowed your brows. “Why?”

“To ask you why you weren’t with us,” he replied simply.

Even more confused, you flipped your laptop screen shut and placed the device behind you.

Jungkook took this as an invitation to sit down next to you (really, he would have sat on the floor at this point, his legs were burning). You watched him and thought about what to ask next.

“You could have used the phone,” you said, figuring there was nothing you could ask him that would make you feel satisfied with his answer.

“I wanted to see your face,” he replied, “when you explained why you made me walk all the way over here.”

Despite the humorous twinkle in his eyes, you felt accused and defended, “I did not make you do anything.”

“You weren’t at the restaurant,” he argued. “So, yeah. You did.”

Averting your gaze, you ran your fingers over the frayed edges of the bedspread underneath the two of you.

“You shouldn’t have bothered coming here,” you began. He ignored the condescending tone in your voice, knowing it was there to make you feel better about having to explain something personal—something you’d undoubtedly categorised under ‘complaining’ and, therefore, would regret as soon as you talked about it. “I didn’t come with you guys, because I’m not really feeling up for socialising tonight. That’s all.”

He figured as much, but he knew that was not all. The pain in his legs eased a little, now that he could see that he hadn’t walked here for nothing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied—a reflex—and Jungkook had to swallow his frustration. “Just not feeling my best. But I’m fine.”

You seemed unaware of your own contradictory words, but he chose not to point it out, saying instead, “Luna told Namjoon you were busy.”

“Yeah,” you replied with an uncomfortable twitch of your lip. “I asked her to. I didn’t want him to pity me. He’s very sensitive. Makes me feel bad if I upset him.”

Weirdly happy to hear that, Jungkook gave you a small, teasing smile. “But you don’t mind upsetting me?”

“You came all this way,” you replied, meeting his eye and smiling back—but your gaze remained vacant. “I couldn’t just lie to you. But, really, I’m fine. You should go back.”

Funny how you managed to assure him you weren’t lying and then proceeded to lie all in one breath.

“I’m not going back without you,” he said, his voice rougher. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, and then again, “nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Jungkook knew you never admitted you were tired unless it was an excuse to hide what you were really feeling. And, frankly, he was starting to grow really annoyed. Not because you were refusing to tell him what was going on, but because you were treating him like a stranger.

He’d known you for seven years at this point. He could tell when you were pretending.

And yet, he hadn’t tried to pry the truth out of you in years—he couldn’t even remember what methods he used to use back when you were together.

And he suddenly felt guilty, too, because you spent so much time making sure everyone around you was doing well—citing your job as the reason—but he’d never really asked you about you in return.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he mumbled—the words he’d heard you say to him hundreds of times sounded awkward when he repeated them. “You always tell me that. It’s only fair that I reciprocate.”

“See, but I have to listen to you,” you replied softly, not meaning much by it. You just wanted to relieve him of the responsibility he seemed to think he had to sit here and listen to you. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re feeling your best.”

“Well, I’m making sure you’re feeling your best because that’s what I want to do,” he countered. “Not because I have to.”

Your eyes widened in realisation. “I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you—”

“I get it,” he cut you off. “Talk to me.”

You sighed. There were only so many times you could slither out of answering questions without it becoming frustrating. In your personal experience, most people rarely persisted long enough for you to say “I’m fine” more than twice in a row.

Jungkook, however, sat on your bunk, stiff as a statue. Determined, clearly, to stay here until you talked to him.

You knew you’d have to. And, really, you weren’t purposefully hiding anything. You just didn’t think this was something that you should have bothered other people with. Especially Jungkook, who already had enough on his plate from performing almost every night.

“It’s nothing,” you said—always the introductory phrase in your sentences. “I was on the phone with my mum after the show—”

Jungkook reacted immediately, “isn’t it… very early over there?”

“It was a little after four in the morning when she called, yeah,” you said. “That’s why I knew right away that something bad had to have happened.”

He felt an unexpected pang in his chest. Forgetting the bet completely, he worried about something else for a second—another thing that your mum could have told you about him.

It wasn’t anything bad per se, he knew you wouldn’t be angry if you found out—he hoped not—but you might not like the fact that he wasn’t the one who told you.

But it couldn’t be. You appeared tired, not flabbergasted. You looked surprised to see him, but not enough to toss a flowerpot at his head.

He shuffled on the bunk, and tried to ask, “what, um—what happened?”

“It’s my brother,” you said with a sigh so deep, it drowned out the sound of Jungkook’s relieved exhale. “He got—he had gone on a trip with friends. But then he suddenly returned home with a broken leg. That bonehead thought it was just a sprain, even though he couldn’t walk at all, so he didn’t go to the hospital right away. And now the leg is, apparently, swollen and blue.”

Jungkook cringed at the image.

“Yeah,” you replied to his expression. “Anyway, mum needed his insurance information. It’s not even a big deal, just a broken bone, he’ll be fine. It’s just that my mum was crying like it was the end of the world, and now I’m—I don’t know. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have come.”

So close. You’d almost finished the whole story without discrediting your feelings again.

Jungkook tried to – quickly – find a way to bring you back to your previous state of mind, “no—it’s—is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, they were at the hospital when I talked to her,” you replied. “The x-ray showed a common fracture, so he won’t need any surgery or anything.”

“That’s good. And your mum?”

“Oh, she was still hysterical when she hung up,” you said. “She only ended the call, because the nurse came to talk to her.”

This was typical of your mum, who loved her children more than anything—and now that you were rarely home because of your job, she focused a lot of that love on her youngest son.

Naturally, a broken bone was a disaster for her.

And she probably didn’t even realise how much her crying would affect you. No one liked to see their mother cry—it was possibly one of the worst sights a child could endure—but you’d always been particularly sensitive to it.

You had once told him that your biggest dream was to never see your mum cry again. And you put in great effort to make this dream come true ever since your parents’ divorce was finalised and your mother began to get herself back together: shopping trips, beauty salons, and holidays in her dream countries.

Jungkook had never heard anyone’s biggest dream be about someone else. He didn’t think he even believed you at first, but several late-night phone calls when you were pacing in your room, nearly ripping your hair out, because your mum wasn’t feeling well again, convinced him that you’d meant it.

Really, he admired you for this. But now he was clenching his jaw, because he understood where your mum was coming from, but he still thought it was unfair to burden you with this when she knew that the sound of her tears would haunt your dreams.

“He’s her youngest kid,” Jungkook rationalised in spite of himself.

“He’s seventeen,” you retorted irritably. “Surely, that’s old enough to develop a brain.”

“How did he break his leg anyway?”

“He told mum he was climbing a tree, and a branch broke off, so he fell,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know who climbs trees when they’re travelling with friends, but I do know that he was drinking, and he didn’t want mum to know. As for the thing he fell from, I can’t say anything about that. But clearly, he hit his head pretty badly on his way down, too, the absolute idiot.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small snicker here. “Did she believe him about the tree?”

“He’s done dumber things, so I wouldn’t blame her,” you said. “And she still told me not to yell at him.”

“I second that.”

You groaned, disagreeing with him just as you’d disagreed with your mum before, “he was stupid enough to think his obviously broken leg would heal on its’ own and did not go to the hospital, and now he’s made mum cry—”

“He made a dumb mistake,” Jungkook’s calm voice cut you off. “I’m sure he knows and blames himself for it.”

Thrown off by his composure, you mumbled, “he’d better.”

“I’m sorry,” he said—the word sudden, almost inappropriate.

You looked at him. “Hm? For what?”

“That your mum cried, and you were on your own in a foreign country.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling from his face to the bedspread underneath you.

You didn’t have to tell him much, he knew your family very well: with only one parent to look after two children, you had to step up and take on the role of the other parent to your little brother and be the helping hand to replace the missing partner for your mum once your parents divorced.

Even before they divorced, actually—but Jungkook didn’t know much about that. You never talked about your family before your parents finally split up, but he had an inkling that things had been bad for a while. You had hardly any contact with your father and that had to come from somewhere.

Being a younger brother himself, he’d always felt this misplaced guilt in situations like this. As if exploiting older children in favour of the younger ones was a common practice of all parents, and he, too, received preferential treatment compared to his older brother.

But he didn’t think he did. He knew he didn’t—his parents called him and his brother the same number of times every day, even if Jungkook couldn’t always pick up. They scolded and praised them equally.

And he knew it was different for you. Your mum called you and asked how you were and what was new with you, but the real reason for her call was your brother and the new problems he was causing.

Jungkook suspected that she did this because you’d never told her that you minded being a parent to a child you didn’t have. You never minded being needed, being everyone else’s shoulder to lean on.

You were you.

You had everything under control, always. You were the only clear head in your household of chaos. Sometimes, even in his household of chaos.

You had taught your mum years ago not to ask how you were feeling, because two things would happen if she did: either she would worry, or you’d have to lie to her so she wouldn’t. You didn’t want either.

So, she knew better than to ask you too much, and she thought—or rather, hoped—that if you really needed help, if you were really struggling, you’d be the one to call her.

At least that’s what you’d told her you’d do.

The fact that she accepted this arrangement so easily, however, broke Jungkook’s heart, because he knew that if you were going through a really difficult time, you wouldn’t even think of calling anyone.

It was a miracle you even admitted what was wrong tonight. You’d been fluent in repressing your feelings and emotions for so long that Jungkook felt a little dizzy hearing you talk now.

“I’m fine,” you repeated as the silence in your bunk became too heavy. “Really. You shouldn’t have—”

“Do you want to walk back with me?” Jungkook asked.

Like Luna, he knew when to push, but he also knew when to stop. When to demand answers and when to distract you.

With Luna, that was understandable. She’d been your closest friend for years. But Jungkook made you watch him in stunned silence for a minute.

It shouldn’t have been surprising how well he knew you, but it was. And as you looked at him, the unexpected lightness in your chest made the inside of the bus spin a little.

Objectively, Jungkook knew that everyone would be done eating by the time you got back to the restaurant. But he suggested this anyway.

And, honestly, you knew that, too. But you still wanted to go with him.

“I would,” you said, your mind whirring with all the reasons why you shouldn’t go, “but we’re probably parked very far from Strandvägen. I don’t know how you walked here in the first place.”

“Let’s go,” he decided, standing up from your bunk.

“Huh? I just said—”

“You said you would. So, let’s go.”

“But I also said—”

“If distance is the only thing stopping you,” he cut in again, “then remember that I performed a whole gig tonight, walked over five kilometres to find you, and I’m still willing to walk back. So, give me a little break and come with me willingly, okay?”

“Hmm,” you ran your tongue over your lips to hide your smile at his phrasing. “And, uh… if I don’t?”

Jungkook was completely serious when he replied, “I will carry you if I have to.”

You immediately stopped smiling and narrowed your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge—?”

Noticing the almost predatory look in his eyes, you leapt out of your bunk.

“It’s not,” you said, grabbing your phone from the bed. “I’m coming. Let’s go.”

When you and Jungkook left the parking lot, there were barely any people around—apart from a few cars here and there—which was understandable, considering it was almost three in the morning in the middle of the week.

You tended to get lost in your job a lot of the time, so you took a lot of it for granted sometimes. But it was in times like this: on dark, empty streets somewhere in Europe, that you remembered you weren’t working with regular people. You worked with artists. Musicians.

And walking back to the restaurant on Strandvägen—which should have closed hours ago, but that’s another perk of travelling with rockstars: they had the influence and the money to change the working hours of all the places they went to—you were hyper-aware of all this.

And, for a second, you felt almost intimidated. You’d known Jungkook for so long, but now you realised that he wasn’t just Jungkook, your client. Or even Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend.

This was also Jungkook, Rated Riot’s vocalist, strolling through Stockholm, hours after his concert.

But then he turned to look at you—his gaze so warm that you could see it, feel it, even in the dark of the night, under the fluorescent streetlights—and all of those feelings dissipated as quickly as they’d appeared.

He was back to being someone you’d known for almost a decade. Someone who knew things about you that you’d never shared with anyone else.

“So,” he spoke up as the two of you walked. “Is Kai still playing basketball?”

The mention of your brother made your stomach tighten again.

“Yeah,” you replied. “He doesn’t like it, though. But I’m pushing him to keep playing. He’s good at it.”

“Well, he’s tall,” Jungkook remarked.

“That, too,” you agreed. “But he’s also smart. And cunning when he needs to be. This could be his ride to college, he’s skilled enough to get a scholarship.”

“But he doesn’t want to keep playing?”

“I don't know. This is Kai. He doesn’t want to do regular, everyday things. He wants to skydive and eat cockroaches, and stuff.” You glanced at him before adding, “kind of like you, I guess.”

He was almost ready to argue, but ended up chuckling when your eyes met.

“Okay. Yeah,” he concurred. “I guess that’s true.”

“That’s why I’m relieved you guys are no longer in touch.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wait, I’m the bad influence?”

“You can be,” you said, a meaningful glint in your eyes.

He watched you for a minute, enjoying the moment and your gentle features as you responded to his smile with one of your own. Then a dog barked somewhere in the distance, breaking the spell, and you both looked down at the pavement again.

“So, uh, if not basketball,” Jungkook said, “what does he want to do after school? Last time we talked, he wanted to be a ninja.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that was Kai in his Naruto phase. He’s into Chainsaw Man now, so I’m afraid to ask.

He laughed, clearly understanding where your apprehension was coming from.

“It could be worse,” he said. “At least he’s reading. Even if it’s manga.”

“Yeah.” You lingered on the last vowel as you sighed. “I wish it didn’t influence him this much, though. But then I feel guilty, sometimes, that I’m forcing him to only do the things that are beneficial for him instead of letting him explore other interests and hobbies.”

Jungkook nodded—indicating that he was listening—and suddenly walked to your other side. Growing confused, you felt him lightly touch your hip and nudge you both out of the way of an oncoming bike—which, at two-thirty at night, was surprising, even in a capital city.

Before you could react, he seamlessly returned to your previous conversation. “You just want what’s best for him.”

“I—yeah, uh—I do,” you said, trying to determine if your heart rate increased because of the unexpected bike, or because Jungkook was still walking right next to you, his arm brushing against yours with every step. Crossing your arms over your chest—in an attempt to shield yourself from the chilly night and your own warm chest—you added, “still, I feel like I’m hindering his growth as a person.”

Jungkook looked at you. Because your eyes were focused on the ground, he allowed his gaze to linger longer.

“But that’s not something you should be worrying about,” he said. He couldn’t help it; he felt offended—and hurt—on your behalf. “You’re not his—you’re his sister.”

“I know that,” you replied. “But he was three when dad left for the first time. He doesn’t even remember there ever being a dad. Mom and I are all he’s got. And, you know. Like a true father, I’m pushing him to fulfil my dreams and play in the NCAA.”

Jungkook found several points in your statement that he wanted to address, but he ended up focusing on your half-joking remark, “you wanted to be a basketball player?”

“No,” you said and he lifted his eyebrows higher. “But I’m committed to my role as the father. A father who desperately wants his son to succeed until the son says, ‘it’s not my dream, dad, it’s yours’. You know? Like in any normal family.”

Jungkook snickered—somehow sadly—but did not play along with your joke. Both of you knew that was just a TV trope you were using to divert the topic.

“You don’t need a father to have a normal family,” he said. “The three of you are perfectly normal together.”

You swallowed as your heart switched from beating three times faster than necessary to nearly stopping altogether.

“That’s true,” you said quietly. “But thank you for saying that. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

“That’s because you’re so used to thinking that your family is different,” he theorised. “Growing up, I thought so, too. My house was the only one on the whole block with over a dozen people living in it. No one else lived with their aunts and uncles.”

You smiled, remembering the absolute chaos that thrived in his family home—a new argument, a new problem every day. It was lovely, though. Before meeting Jungkook and witnessing his life firsthand, you never imagined that families could be so close.

“Not a quiet moment there,” you said.

“Yeah,” he nodded, stuffing his hands in his front pockets to protect them from the cold late-night breeze. “And when I lived back home, I used to kind of hate that unstoppable noise. Now I miss it.”

“Do you go back often?”

You looked at him after you asked this, and suddenly felt your breath catch in your throat as the lights from the skyscraper across the street illuminated his features. Nearly hypnotised, you followed the lights across his face as they accentuated the darkness of his hair and the lightness of the spark in his eyes.

“I—well, probably not often enough,” he replied. You looked away from him to save yourself from making very poor decisions. “But it’s not the same. My brother moved out, my parents bicker every time they speak to each other. My cousins are still louder than all hell. I… I guess it’s just my grandma, really, that I want to see right now.

“Did you call her when we were in Paris?” you asked, recalling your conversation in the taxi outside of Gare du Nord.

Jungkook swallowed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I wanted to, but, uh, she’s... well, she can’t hear very well right now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You scream for a living.”

He looked at you and retorted with exaggerated dignity, “that’s how I sing.”

“My point still stands.”

He shook his head, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“It wouldn’t matter even if that was true,” he said, and, out of the corner of your eye, you could see the smile fade from his face. “She, uh, she doesn’t always understand me. Or, remember me, actually.”

You felt three separate stabs: one in your chest, one in your stomach and one somewhere in your lungs. They left you completely breathless and absolutely speechless for a full minute. It was hard to discern which had affected you more: the realisation that his grandmother—the most lovable lady you’d ever met—was sick, or the way Jungkook looked as he said this.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. The late hour and this revelation called for hushed voices.

“Thank you,” Jungkook replied with a distracted nod. He unconsciously sped up and you had to take two steps for every one of his to catch up.

You reached a bridge when Jungkook continued, “she has better days. My aunt and uncle are looking after her right now. I asked them to call me when she has a good day, but, uh... I haven’t heard from them since we arrived in Europe.”

Struggling to keep up, you reached out a hand and gently touched his shoulder, bringing him to a full stop in the pedestrian lane of the bridge over the Tranebergssund strait.

The lights from nearby buildings reflected in the water below, and you could sense the beauty around you as you caught glimpses through your peripherals. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jungkook’s cloudy gaze.

You’ve spent over a week in Europe. You didn’t know that he was waiting to hear about his grandmother the whole time.

“That’s really unfair,” you remarked. “Your grandma loves you so much.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his sneakers, then leaned his back against the railing of the bridge. “She actually once told me I was her favourite grandson.”

You smiled at this, then teased softly, “she probably said that to all of her grandsons.”

“Okay, but to me first!”

“Okay, okay,” you agreed, chuckling. “That might be true. In any case, this is—I don’t even know what to say. How is your grandpa handling it all?”

The brief moment of lightness faded from the conversation as Jungkook inhaled deeply and looked around, searching for a distraction.

“He is, uh... coping,” he finally replied. “Never admits what he’s feeling, but his eyes always well up when he talks to her.”

“Does she remember him?” you asked.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“On good days?” you echoed his previous observation.

“Yeah. On bad days, she pretends to remember,” he explained. “On really bad days, she’s so scared of the familiar face, but unknown person, that she can’t even pretend.”

“God,” you sighed, resting your forearms on the railing. “Both of them must be in so much pain.”

Jungkook nodded slowly and turned around, mirroring your position. The two of you watched the strait in silence for a minute, observing the lights as they danced on the soft, gentle ripples on the surface of the water.

There was a storm inside of him, nothing like the peaceful water below. It was a storm he did not like to think about, a storm he tried to run away from. But with you here, he felt a little less afraid of it.

“They’ve been together for almost sixty years,” he said. “I don’t—I can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for them.”

“It sounds like a nightmare,” you admitted. “I don’t know what’s scarier: forgetting your loved ones or being forgotten by the ones you love.”

He answered without hesitation, “being forgotten. If you forget, it’s just—it gets scary sometimes, because everything seems so foreign. But most of the time, it’s just empty, I think. Quiet. You can still feel the love of the people around you even if you can’t remember who they are. But being forgotten—that—that’s just unbearable. You’re talking to someone you love so much, and t-they have no idea who you are.”

It felt like your heart was about to tear in half as you listened to the pain in his voice. You did not dare to imagine what sort of warzone his chest had become.

“How long was she sick?” you asked so quietly that the water nearly carried your words away.

“She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a year ago,” he replied. “Back then, her worst symptom was very shaky hands. She’s always been distracted and scatterbrained, so we didn’t think it was anything serious. But then she started to talk about visiting her sister who’s been dead for almost six years now, and uh… yeah.”

“Shit,” you whispered, because, for a moment, that was the only word that could capture what you were feeling.

You squeezed your eyes shut as if that would make hearing this easier. The cold wind and the raw emotion of this conversation made it all the more difficult to keep your eyes dry.

A short while later, you added shakily, “this breaks my heart, so I don’t even—I probably can’t even begin to understand what you and your family have been going through. I-I wish you’d told me.”

Jungkook looked at you, startled momentarily by your teary eyes. Then he realised that his own throat had become tight.

Turning towards you, he admitted, “I wish I had, too.”

You responded by turning to him as well.

There was a quiet moment, filled only with the wind as it moved the trees, the water, and the two of you closer to each other.

Jungkook reached for you almost instinctively. His hands were hesitant at first, unsure of how you would react. But your small nod—so small, you weren’t sure if you’d really willed your head to move—gave him permission to come closer.

He enveloped you in his embrace and exhaled so deeply that his lungs almost hollowed out when he felt you lean your head against his shoulder and slide your hands over his back.

“I-I know there’s nothing I could have done,” you whispered, “but I just—”

“You would have known,” he interrupted, tightening his grip around your waist. The side of his face was pressed against yours and you could feel every word on your temple. “That would have been enough.”

He was completely still, focused entirely on the feeling of you in his arms and the way your scent, your warmth, your touch—you—seemed to ease the pain inside of him. The way it quieted the storm, made the noise more bearable, the wind less powerful.

“I know now,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “You can come find me if you get any news, good or bad.”

Breathing unsteadily, he nodded.

You watched each other, neither one daring to move. He held you and marvelled at how he’d survived so long without the feeling of your arms around him—tentative as if you were afraid he’d disappear if you held on too tightly. As if you’d wake up and leave this—all of this—in a near-forgotten dream.

He was the one who held you tighter in turn; to show you that he was here with you. And to show himself, too.

He understood that he had to let go of you soon—to return his hands to the frigid railing of the bridge or slide them back into his pockets—but he chose to play dumb. He chose to pretend he couldn’t read the situation, so he could keep his arms around you for just a minute longer.

His grandma used to say that a hug made everything better, and for a long time, she was one of two people in his life whose hugs truly made his heart and his mind slow down.

He hadn’t been able to hug her in a while. But he was hugging the second person right now.

“Thank you,” he said, reluctantly unwrapping his arms from around you. “Promise you’ll do the same? About your brother?”

You gave him a sad smile as you took a small step back. The chill of the night felt even more intense.

“I promise I’ll try,” you said.

He smiled back, understanding that this was already a lot coming from you.

You glanced at the water once more before returning your gaze to his face as you nervously stretched your fingers.

This conversation, along with memories of his family and how much they loved each other, reminded you of many things about your relationship that you had tried to forget.

There was something else, too. Something you couldn’t forget and couldn’t escape.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

“Of course,” he replied, his body still facing yours even though you had gone back to leaning into the bridge railing.

“It’s something I’ve always wondered—actually, I tried to ask you before, but, uh, you never really told me,” you spoke, stalling, as you were too nervous to just spit it out.

“Okay,” he said patiently.

“Why are you friends with Sid and his crew?”

If Jungkook was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it as he inhaled and looked somewhere behind you. Somewhere far, far into the distance.

“You know why,” he said. “We have fun.”

“I understand that part,” you said. “They distract you from the stress. I get it. But… is that really it?”

Now he began to fidget. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he turned to face the water, then got one hand out to scratch his neck, just below his chin.

“That’s very—uh, what brought this on?” he asked, the question functioning more like a defence mechanism than a manifestation of his curiosity. “Why are you asking me that suddenly?”

“Well, because I doubt Sid has even a spoonful of emotional attachment to any of his family members,” you said. “All three of them grew up so rich that their silver spoons were golden. And you’re so different.”

Jungkook swallowed. Coming from anyone else, this question would have probably offended him, even though he understood that you merely meant his relationship with his family.

He’d been friends with Sid, Jude, and Minjun for a long time, but he sometimes wondered if they kept him around out of pity. And so, he wanted to make it clear that he was more than just Sid’s little sidekick. His errand boy.

He may not have had as much money as his friends—not yet, anyway—but now, finally, he had something that none of them did: popularity and acclaim. It pushed him forward until he could walk alongside his friends. Until, he thought, he could truly call them friends and not feel inappropriate.

They were equals now.

And still, deep down, he knew you were right. He was fundamentally different from the three of them. And you were the only person he felt comfortable admitting that to.

“Yeah, uh, I know I am,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Our differences are what initially drew me to them, I think. I was always restrained by my family and, I guess, our relative lack of money. Compared to them, I mean. Meanwhile, they could just do whatever they wanted without a single worry. Sure, they all have jobs, but it’s different for them. They know they’ll be fine even if they drink those jobs away. All of that seemed exciting and, I don’t know, invigorating to me. It still seems that way. When I say I want what they have, I don’t mean their money. I mean their freedom.”

When he paused, you nodded quietly. You could see he hadn’t finished yet.

“I feel like...” he said, his eyes cast low. “Like I don’t have to worry about the consequences of my actions, either, when I’m with them. I know I do, but it feels good to pretend for a while that I don’t.” He swallowed before continuing, “but, uh… I realise that I have certain responsibilities. I have the band. I have you. Unlike them, I can never truly be free. At the end of the night, I always go home. And my grandma is there to remind me who I really am and where I come from.”

“That’s why I asked,” you said. “It’s impossible she would approve of your friendship with them.”

“She doesn’t know about them.”

You weren’t expecting this, and you couldn’t hide your reaction as your lips parted and eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. “She—she doesn’t?”

“No,” he admitted. “I never told her. Minjun is the only one who’s been to my house, but she thought he was a classmate. Or friends with my cousins. I want her to believe that I’m friends with nice boys like me.”

An ironic smile appeared on his face as he said that last part and you couldn’t help but snicker. You wouldn’t have used this particular adjective to describe Sid or Jungkook, but you knew that, unlike Sid, Jungkook did have a different side to him. A side that he rarely showed anyone, but you remembered it in his good morning texts and goodnight kisses.

“Shouldn’t that be a sign to you that these people aren’t good for you?” you asked. “You’ve never lied to your grandma.”

Something inside him prepared to argue, but he held the urge until it dissolved in his grip. He knew you were right.

Sighing, he said, “probably,” and left it at that.

The truth was, he became friends with Sid, Jude, and Minjun, because he wanted to be like them. He wanted what they had.

But, over time, their friendship became something else. A distraction. A way to maintain his sanity. And he didn’t know how to tell you about that.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he had a fear that had ingrained itself into his mind. A fear that he’d never tried to describe before, worried that speaking it aloud would bring it to life. It would materialise around him and swallow him whole.

It was loneliness, he supposed. Or maybe just himself.

Growing up with a family so big and friends so plenty, he never learned how to be alone. He never learned what to do when it was just him and his thoughts in an empty room for an extended period of time. He didn’t know how to distract himself from all that plagued his mind.

He was afraid of silence, afraid of the way it made his mind scream at him. He was afraid of those screams—they came from a dark place deep within his subconscious.

The screams were his doubts and insecurities. His flaws and weaknesses. His anxiety and fears.

And his friends—all three of them—made sure he was never alone. They made sure there were always enough voices in the room to keep him away from his thoughts. To keep him busy, to keep his mind satisfied.

And on this night, as you watched Jungkook drift away from you while you stood on the bridge, you could sense that there was a lot he’d still left unsaid.

“Be honest, though,” you said to the faded look in his eyes. He blinked when you started to speak and returned to the moment. “Does Sid really never get on your nerves?”

His smile was sad. “He does almost every day.”

“So why do you put up with it?” you asked. “Is this distraction really worth it? This feeling of freedom.”

Jungkook sighed. Sid wasn’t worth it. The rational part of him knew that much. Sometimes, Sid was louder than his own thoughts, and that was hardly better. But without Sid…

A silent minute later, you answered for him, “it’s the rest of them, isn’t it? You think if you cut Sid off, Jude and Minjun will leave with him.”

“I know they will leave with him.”

Uncertain how he’d take this, you asked awkwardly, “would that… really be such a bad thing?”

“I’ve known them since I was a kid,” Jungkook said as a way of answering.

“Well,” you clicked your tongue. “That sounds a little like an unhealthy attachment.”

He lowered his head. He knew that he wasn’t the best judge of what was healthy and what wasn’t, but even he could tell that his friendship with Sid had taken a turn for the worse. And still, he’s known Sid and the rest of his friends for years.

“There were good moments, though,” he said, his tone hopeful. “Sid wasn’t always this... obnoxious.”

You assumed as much; otherwise, Jungkook wouldn’t have kept him around for so long. Still, you asked, “what moments?”

“Well… the birthday parties, for example,” he began. “I saw fireworks, stood behind the wheel of a yacht, and drank decades-old whiskey way before I was legally allowed to do these things. And I didn’t have to pay for anything. Oh, and, okay—I also saw Sid dance to Britney Spears, which is, of course, priceless.”

There was unexpected amusement on your face. “Okay. That’s fair. I wish I’d seen that.”

“You really don’t,” he said. “I still have nightmares about it. He brought out a guitar later. Attempted to remix ‘Toxic’.”

Sucking your lips in to keep yourself from laughing, you nodded. “Hmm. Fitting song.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook restricted himself less as he laughed at your comment. “He can’t play for shit, though.”

Finally, you laughed, too.

Grinning, he continued, “the racing, too. I-I know this isn’t something you want to know about, but it’s—I guess, it’s a special memory for me.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a little surprised by the ease in your own voice. Racing used to be a taboo topic in your relationship. For you, that meant ‘don’t do it’, but for Jungkook, it meant, ‘do it in a way that she doesn’t find out’. Now, you said, “you can go on.”

He went on, “we raced in pairs. Jude was usually with Sid, I was with Minjun. We couldn’t do it individually, because I didn’t have a car of my own, and it wouldn’t have been fair. So, Sid bought me a car. You know the one.”

You knew and the knowledge made you lower your eyes. Even four years later, this car was difficult to forget.

But as you listened to him romanticise his friendship with Sid, you weren’t sure if Jungkook was even aware of how much the car and these races influenced your eventual break-up. How these happy moments that he shared with Sid led to unhappy moments with you.

“Then there was the time we were drunk and, somehow, ended up on the beach,” he continued, and you looked up from the water as you listened. “It got really sentimental in a way that it almost never does with us. I think Sid started it, actually, when he said that he wanted to become a musician.”

Your eyes widened, the image of Sid with a musical instrument successfully distracting you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said. “Was he serious?”

“Yeah. Dead serious.”

“Free Britney.”

He snorted. “Not for Britney. Punk rock. He had a bass and everything. He owned all the Sex Pistols records. You can see where I’m going.”

You paused, thinking. Slowly, your eyes narrowed.

“Not Sid Vicious,” you said.

Jungkook nodded and the sound of your exaggerated groaning made him laugh.

“He used to scream—I mean, literally screech at the top of his lungs—if his parents called him Isidore,” he said. “He started to go by Sid as a tribute and, I don’t know, a manifestation, I guess.”

You shook your head. The only resemblance Sid held to the notorious Sex Pistols’ bassist—aside from the drugs—was that he, too, seemed to give everyone headaches wherever he went.

“It was that night on the beach that I said I wanted that, too. Music, I mean,” Jungkook continued. “And we joked, for a minute, that we should start a band together, the four of us. Jude was going to be the lead singer, by the way.”

You scrunched your nose; another absurd image. “And you?”

“The drummer, of course. Rocking a cigarette between my teeth as I dropped killer beats.”

You laughed again. This was the one thing from their fantasies that you could see: the four of them choosing all the wrong positions in the band, but thinking they made it work because they looked cool on stage.

“So, what happened then?” you asked. “After you were the only one who became a musician.”

“Nothing,” Jungkook said. You scratched your forehead to hide the frown that your laughter had morphed into. Defending his friends came naturally to him and this habit was so useless. “I don't know. Sid never mentioned it again. I don’t think he cares.”

You looked down. You thought Sid cared.

Jungkook must have believed that they were equals now. But you knew they weren’t, and they never could be as long as Sid was involved.

The less of a lackey and more of an individual Jungkook became, the more Sid’s jealousy had to grow. Especially now that Jungkook was doing something that Sid had, apparently, always wanted to do.

“These good moments,” you started slowly, “that’s so long ago. When was the last time you had a good moment with him? When you had drinks in Prague?”

Jungkook almost winced at the unexpected memory of what happened at the hotel bar in Prague. Scrambling for a response, he gripped the railing of the bridge. “No, um, that was—that was one of the bad moments.”

“Really?” you were surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“If I did, you would have thrown me in the water.”

You glanced at the strait reflexively. “It’s that bad?”

“It’s...” he sucked in a breath. “Not good.”

“Huh.” You ran your fingers over the railing, confused. With all that had happened—Sid’s lie about Jungkook’s ex, the Paris trip, the unfortunate encounter at the bar in Berlin—it was hard for you to guess what could have constituted a bad moment between him and Sid. “But Sid’s still kicking it. Wreaking havoc on Stockholm.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

This time, your question was intentionally provocative, “so what does he have to do to cross the line?”

He brought the sole of his sneakers over the ground, rubbing at the pavement to win another moment.

“He’s done everything, I think,” he said finally. “The more time I spend with him here in Europe, the more I realise that things will be different when we go home.”

“Oh.” You blinked. Discomfort and distaste and even a sprinkle of pure dread gathered in the pit of your stomach. “So, he—he’s staying here until we go home?”

He lifted his eyes and noticed the way the light in your gaze seemed to dim. He wanted to assure you, but he also knew that there was something else he wanted, too.

He wanted to defeat Sid. He wanted to make him regret his actions for once. He wanted him to deal with something that he’d never had to deal with before: consequences.

So, all that Jungkook could say to you, was a lame, “I-I don't know.”

The disappointment remained prominent on your face as you said, “well, as long as I don’t see him, I guess, you can… think about what you want to do with him. I just think you deserve better friends.”

He cleared his throat and tried to shift the topic, “I thought Minjun wasn’t that bad.”

You glanced at him and saw the desperation in his attempt at a smile—it was there, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

“He’s tolerable,” you replied kindly.

He snickered. “Okay.”

“Keep him,” you said. “Lose Sid.”

“Hmm. And Jude?”

“Let Jude decide.” You shrugged. It seemed really simple. “It’s not a divorce, you don’t need to divide children. He can choose his real friends himself.”

Sadness returned to his voice as he looked down. “He’ll choose Sid.”

Your voice remained firm. “Then let him.”

Jungkook sighed. There wasn’t much else he could say to you. He heard it in your voice—all the determination that he lacked, you made up for it.

You noted that this wasn’t simple for him, at all. He’d known Sid, Jude, and Minjun since he was a teenager. It was easy for a friendship to feel permanent when it was decades-long. When you got so used to it, you didn’t think to imagine what it’d be like without it.

“Look…” you said, leaning your back against the railing. “If I were more like Sid, I’d be forceful. Maybe I’d even offer something as leverage. Something bad that I would do to you if you didn’t stop being friends with them. But I’m not Sid.”

Flashing back to the bet again, Jungkook groaned. “And thank God for that.”

“Yeah. So, I’m just… all I can do is tell you that you deserve better,” you said. “You deserve to be happy, you know? I don’t always talk shit about your friends because I personally think they’re shit.” You paused when he gave you a look. “Fine. It’s not just because I think they’re shit. I’m—I’m also looking out for you.”

“I appreciate that. You’re…” he stopped, feeling a flicker of fear for your reaction. He decided to push through more quietly, “you’re one of the few people in my life who does that for me.”

“Surround yourself with these people,” you said, too lost in the moment to notice his apprehension. “The ones who really care about you. It doesn’t matter how many of them there are. If they’re the only ones left in your life, I promise it’ll feel enough.”

He shook his head. “It’s not the quantity that matters for me, anyway. It’s… a lot of other things.”

“Think if those things are really worth it,” you persisted, “and if it wouldn’t be more reasonable to just walk away.”

He remembered—so suddenly, it almost knocked him off his feet and his grip on the railing tightened—how you’d done it. How you walked away from him for what was supposed to be the final time.

If it weren’t for a stroke of luck—or destiny, he supposed—he might have never seen you again. He might have never stood on this bridge in Stockholm with you. And if he’d gone after you that time, if he’d stopped you, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to wait for four years to get to this bridge.

Everything required a decision, and he was desperate to know if you ever regretted yours.

“Even if walking away could hurt them?” he asked you.

You looked at him and misjudged the sadness in his eyes for the pain of losing long-time friends.

“You’re hurting me,” you countered, “when you let them treat you like that. When you let them put you in danger.”

He could suddenly hear the silence around you both. With his eyes locked on you, he stammered, “w-why does that hurt you?”

This time, it was you who didn’t have a proper answer to his question. “Because.”

Inhaling until his lungs overflowed, Jungkook lifted his chin and closed his eyes.

A heavy minute later, he asked, “do you know what is the one thing that I’m glad my grandma forgot?”

The sudden change in conversation caught you off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You.”

You continued to watch him, and there seemed to be something burning in this word—a fire strong enough to shield you from the cold wind of the Swedish night and light your skin up with a warmth that felt innate and familiar.

“Why, um,”—you swallowed, interrupting yourself—“why are you glad?”

“Because she’d managed to do the one thing I couldn’t,” he replied.

The fire in your chest spread and you could barely inhale before it consumed everything inside of you.

You looked down at the water below. “Jungkook—”

There it was – his name like a curse on your lips. He didn’t think he was going to last this long in the first place, but this still felt like a forceful slam of a door in his face.

“I know,” he said quickly. “It’s too much, sorry. It’s just... being here with you makes me feel like myself again. Like I’m not just Rated Riot’s vocalist. Not just Sid’s friend. I’m also more than that. It probably makes no sense to you—”

“No,” you interrupted, shivering as the warmth inside of you faded into anxiety. Into fear. “I—I understand what you mean. But I think it’s because we’ve spent so much time together these past few days. It’s easy to get lost in the memories.”

Your guard went back up so quickly that Jungkook scoffed under his breath. He thought he’d broken down some of your defences tonight. Really, he’d merely bent them, if even that.

He still couldn’t tell you anything more out of fear that you would get lost in Stockholm just to run away from him.

“Well, why do you think we’ve been spending so much time together?” he asked, a certain edge to his voice.

You looked at him. “That’s what I’ve been asking you since we came to Prague.”

“It’s because I’m—because—” he started to say and then, in search of the right words, ended up dropping his own walls so he could admit, simply, “I just miss you.”

Still, you looked away and insisted, almost childishly, “you can’t miss me. My job is being with you and the band 24/7.”

He wasn’t sure if you were saying that because it was just easier like this, or because you genuinely felt this way.

Regardless, he shook his head.

“I miss you outside of your job,” he said, gaining confidence now that you weren’t looking at each other. He continued to speak to the water, “I miss hanging out with you. I miss how we used to spend hours scrolling through Netflix, trying to decide what to watch only to get so distracted by our conversation that we’d end up talking the whole night while the movie posters played in the background. I miss the way you’d sing backup vocals for me when I was putting on a show in the shower. I miss the apple scent of your shampoo and how the bottle was the perfect microphone. And the way you screamed that one time, when I nearly blinded you by accidentally squirting shampoo directly into your eye.”

You snickered—quietly, involuntarily, almost painfully—and the sound brought him back down from his memories as he turned to face you again.

“I miss everything,” he finished. “All those little moments.”

Your glance at him was furtive, momentary.

“Why now?” you asked.

This time, it was Jungkook who laughed—incredulously, cynically. “Why always? I don’t think I’ve ever truly stopped missing you.”

As you became more aware of how close he was—physically, of course, because mentally, he might as well have already been inside your head—goosebumps began to rise on your skin. Not just from the cold night, but also because he was right there—right fucking there—and you weren’t touching him.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “well, why did you tell me now, then?”

Deep inside, he was anticipating the question—it made sense, he could see why you’d want to know—but he still winced when he heard it.

Despite everything that had happened tonight—each moment brutally honest and coming from the deepest parts of his heart; the parts that he’d kept hidden for four years—there was a reason why he was telling you this now.

It’s because he was a fraud.

He’d made a fucking bet.

Inhaling sharply, he lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky above. He shrugged, hating himself with every word that was supposed to be an explanation, “better late than never or something like that, I guess.”

You observed him for a second before you looked away, too. You didn’t say anything, and he was desperate to make things right—at least, as right as he possibly could, without making them worse.

“I’m sorry if everything I said made you uncomfortable,” he tried. “I just wanted to—”

You shook your head, encouraged by the darkness and the emptiness of the street around you—like there was no one else here in Stockholm tonight, just the wind, the bridge, the two of you, and the water below.

“No,” you cut him off. “I’ve missed you, too."

His heart rate sped up so quickly that he thought it might give him whiplash. This night, in its entirety, was a rollercoaster ride.

He looked at you, shocking you with how intense his own shock was. “You have?”

Realising that he’d gone out of his way to do these things—spending time with you, helping you backstage, taking you to Paris—while you continued to find it all suspicious as if there was some deeper, more malicious reason for his actions, you began to feel guilty.

Wanting to redeem yourself, you nodded firmly.

“Yeah,” you said. “I have.”

Jungkook was nearly suffocating, his lungs full of something that he could not inhale.

The rollercoaster had reached its peak—his heart was leaping out of his chest—and suddenly, it plummeted at a rapid, nauseating speed. He felt like he was free-falling, his stomach slamming and hitting everything on its way down, as he realised, in horror, what he was doing.

He was taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t know about the bet. He was taking advantage of you.

You were being honest with him—which was rare for you in general, but even rarer nowadays—and he wasn’t doing the same for you. Not entirely.

There was a real reason why he told you about this now, not months—even years—earlier.

The memory of Sid suggesting the bet that very first night in Prague was sharp and brittle. It added to the weight of the confessions he’d made tonight and each of his words ricocheted off his ribcage and pierced his heart as a reminder that everything he’d told you tonight was a half-truth.

He meant what he said about missing you. He meant every single word, every little barely pronounced syllable that kept getting caught on the spikes in his heart, stabbed there each time he remembered that you were no longer together.

Four years he’d felt this way. And deep down, at the end of every day, he knew that he wanted you. Bet or no bet.

And he saw now—he could feel now—that he may have had a chance. A second chance.

But you were looking at him, the colour of your eyes reflected on every surface around him, and he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t take the chance. Not like this.

“It’s cold,” he said. “Should we go?”

The way the colour seemed to drain from your eyes was painful. He felt nauseous as he looked away.

“Uh, yeah,” you said. There was an emptiness in your voice—a great reflection of the sudden space that had opened up in his chest and in yours. “Let’s go.”

The disappointment came so abruptly, it caught you off-guard. You felt like this wasn’t everything that had to have happened tonight.

You felt like the night had been leading up to something. You weren’t sure what, and you weren’t sure how far you’d let it get, but here it was, instead; the disappointment.

The two of you walked the rest of the way to Strandvägen in silence.

One half of your pair felt confused and unexpectedly dispirited. The other half regretted being born.

There was something else, too; a feeling that the two of you shared. And it was the same thing—the thing that almost happened tonight—that you were both afraid of.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “is it really you?”

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[fafnir19]

Genie's lamp - Part VII

Movie Romance

The afternoon sun spilled through the living room window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. Lex was miles away, studying abroad, leaving Jafar alone in the spacious villa. He lounged on the couch, his dark hair tousled, a smirk playing on his lips as he flicked through channels, searching for something entertaining. The faint sound of cheers and shouts came from the living room, where Lex's friends, Thomas and Finn, were gathered around the vast flat-screen TV, their faces glued to the soccer match.

“Goal!” Finn shouted, throwing his hands up in celebration. “Did you see that shot?” Jafar rolled his eyes, the sound of their laughter grating on his nerves. “Ugh, what a bunch of commoners,” he muttered to himself. He stood, stretching his arms, and walked toward the source of the noise. “Hey, Jafar!” Thomas called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “Come watch the real sport with us!” “Yeah, come on! It’s a classic match!” Finn added, oblivious to Jafar’s disdain. They were dressed in their soccer jerseys, exuding an air of youthful exuberance that Jafar found utterly dull. “Why waste your time on that?” Jafar said, a sly grin creeping across his face. “There’s a far more captivating show on right now. Just look at the romance unfolding on Channel Seven. It’s so… enchanting.” “Romance? Pfft, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard,” Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s all so unrealistic. Who actually wears those preppy clothes and eats at fancy restaurants?” Finn laughed, adding, “Yeah, who cares about that mushy stuff? Give me soccer any day.” Jafar’s jaw tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Enough!” Jafar snapped, a surge of dark energy swirling around him. The room seemed to darken as smoke began to rise from his fingertips. Before either of them could react, they were pulled into the screen with a loud *whoosh*.

Thomas and Finn's eyes widened in shock as they realized they were no longer in Lex's villa. They were standing on a sun-drenched patio, surrounded by lush greenery and the sparkling blue waters of the Gulf of Naples. The familiar soccer jerseys they had been wearing were now replaced with preppy, tight-fitting pants and unbuttoned shirts.

"What... what just happened?" Finn stammered, his eyes darting around in confusion. Jafar, still sitting in the living room in font of the TV with the remote control in his hand and smirked. "Welcome to your new reality, gentlemen. You are now characters in my favorite romance series," Jafar's voice boomed and seemed to be everywhere. "What?! No way!" Thomas exclaimed, his face reddening with anger. "Change it back, Jafar! This isn't funny!" Jafar just laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed off the surrounding cliffs. As the implications of Jafar's words sank in, Thomas and Finn exchanged nervous glances, their hearts pounding. They had no idea how to escape this magical predicament, and as the days passed, they found themselves settling into their new roles. They donned preppy clothes, attended elegant dinners, and even found themselves engaging in witty repartee, quoting classic literature to fit in with their new surroundings. Unbeknownst to them, Jafar watched their every move with growing delight.

Jafar leaned back, the remote control in his hand, and a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.  On the vast flat-screen TV, Finn and Thomas's were now the leading men of a romantic drama, set against the breathtaking backdrop of Capri. The genie, usually so cruel and malevolent, had taken delight in romance series. The two young men, once casual and sporty, now embodied the refined elegance of the romance series characters. As the scene unfolded, Finn and Thomas strolled along the waterfront, their bodies language relaxed and comfortable in their new personas. They stopped to admire the view, the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. "Thomas, it's breathtaking," Finn said, his voice filled with wonder as he gazed out over the Gulf of Naples. "Indeed, it is, my friend. A true masterpiece of nature." Thomas replied, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder, their friendship now infused with a subtle undercurrent of something more.

As the camera panned to a luxurious bedroom overlooking the sparkling waters of the Gulf of Naples, soft music filled the air. Finn and Thomas entered the frame. Their eyes locked, they moved closer and their lips meeting in a fiery kiss. And so their bro-mance was becoming a full-blown romance, and Jafar couldn't be more entertained. "This is better than I could have imagined," Jafar whispered to himself, a satisfied smile on his lips as he observed their deepening connection.

Their hands explored each other's bodies, fingers tracing the contours of their newfound preppy attire. Finn's heart raced as he felt Thomas's strong hands on his waist, pulling him closer. "Ah, young love," Jafar purred, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched them kiss passionately on the screen. "So tender and innocent... for now. But let's see how far we can push this, shall we?" With a flick of the remote, the channel changed, and the soft, sensual music of the romance channel was replaced by the throbbing, rhythmic beat of a porn film.

The change in atmosphere was immediate, the camera angles becoming more intimate, the lighting more suggestive. Their kisses became more urgent, their exploration more daring. Finn felt Thomas's hand on his back, slowly inching downwards. Thomas's hand continued its descent, and Thomas's fingers traced the crease of his ass, sending shivers of anticipation through his body. Without warning, he pushed Finn onto the bed trailing kisses down Finn's chest, while he was undressing him. Thomas gently caressed Finn's inner thighs, spreading his legs slightly. "Relax, Finn," Thomas whispered, his hot breath tickling Finn's skin. "Let me show you how good it can be." Finn surrendered to Thomas's touch, a sharp contrast to his usual assertive nature on the soccer field. Finn moaned softly as he felt Thomas's tongue trace patterns on his skin, slowly moving closer to his most sensitive area.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the moment Thomas's wet tongue made contact with Finn's most sensitive area. Without warning, he lowered his head and licked Finn's ass. Finn arched his back, his body responding despite his mind reeling in confusion. . "Thomas... what are you... oh god!" he cried out, his hands gripping the bedsheets as Thomas's tongue penetrated him, stimulating nerves he never knew existed. Thomas smiled against Finn's skin, his hand tightening on Finn's thigh as he delved deeper, his tongue teasing and exploring. "Ohhh..." Finn moaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. The sensation of Thomas's wet tongue probing his most intimate crease was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel his cock throbbing in response, hardening with each swipe of Thomas's skilled tongue. Jafar licked his lips, his eyes glued to the screen. "Yes, Thomas, taste him. Make him yours." Thomas delved deeper, his tongue probing and circling Finn's tight hole. Finn squirmed, his breath coming in short gasps as sensations he never knew existed coursed through his body. "Ahh... Thomas... I—" Finn's words turned into a sharp intake of breath as Thomas's tongue pushed deeper, claiming him completely. With each lick and caress, Thomas asserted his dominance. He knew Finn was his to conquer, and he relished the power he held. Jafar's eyes widened with delight as he watched the scene unfold. "Yes, Thomas, show him what it means to be a true lover!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with anticipation. Finally, Thomas pulled away, a string of saliva connecting him to Finn's ass.

Thomas positioned himself above Finn, their eyes locking again. Finn's hands gripped Thomas's arms, his fingers digging into the muscle as he felt Thomas's strength. "Yes... Feel it, Finn," Jafar whispered, his voice hoarse with anticipation. "Feel his power." Thomas's throbbing member pressed against Finn's entrance, and with a slow, forceful thrust, he entered Finn. A sharp gasp escaped Finn's lips, his back arching slightly as he adjusted to the sensation. Thomas didn't hesitate, his hips moving in a steady rhythm, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Oh... God..." Finn's voice was a mixture of pleasure and surprise as he felt himself being overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body. He tightened his grip on Thomas's arms, his fingers leaving indentations in the hard muscle. "That's it, Finn Jafar hissed, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Feel him inside you. Let go of your control. Become the bottom you're meant to be." With each thrust, Finn's breath came in sharp gasps, his body moving in time with Thomas's. The camera captured every detail, the slick sounds of their bodies filling the room. "Feel my strength," Thomas grunted, his muscles flexing as he pounded into Finn. Finn could do nothing but submit to Thomas' dominance. The bed creaked with each powerful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "That's it, take it!" Thomas growled, his eyes fixed on Finn's face, watching for any sign of pleasure or pain. Finn's body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure. He could feel his own cock, hard and leaking, as Thomas' thrusts became faster and more urgent. "Oh god, I'm gonna—" Finn's words were cut off as his body tensed, his release rushing through him. With a cry, he spilled himself, his body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. "Yes... That's my good little bottom," Jafar whispered amused, his voice thick with satisfaction. "No more girls for you, Finn." Thomas let out a satisfied growl as he felt Finn's ass clench around him. With a few more sharp thrusts, he reached his own climax, crying out as he filled Finn with his release. Collapsing onto Finn's sweat-glistened body, Thomas panted, his weight pressing them both into the mattress. "That was..." he began, but words failed him. Finn, his body spent and sated, simply nodded, his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his face.

Jafar's satisfaction knew no bounds, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight, as he watched the two men on the screen. He had done it. Finn and Thomas had fully embraced their new identities, and their once boring buddy dynamic had been transformed into something far more intriguing. Finn, the once straight soccer jock, was now a gay bottom, and Thomas, his dominant lover, a bisexual top. "Perfect," Jafar whispered, his eyes glinting with dark pleasure. "Their relationship will never be boring again. Welcome to your new lives," Jafar chuckled, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. "May they be everything you never knew you wanted."

Jafar's finger snapped, and with a flash of light, Finn and Thomas reappeared in the living room. The room seemed to shimmer around them as they materialized, solidifying into elegant forms. The two friends stood there, stunned, their eyes widening as they took in their new appearances. Gone were the casual soccer jerseys and sweaty sports gear. Instead, they were clad in tight white suits, the fabric hugging their athletic builds, and black lace shirts that accentuated their newly transformed personas. Their hair, once messy from the game, now framed their faces in stylish cuts.

"Welcome back, gentlemen," Jafar purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "How do you feel?" Finn and Thomas exchanged a glance, their faces reflecting a mixture of confusion and newfound sophistication. Finn straightened his posture, unconsciously quoting a line from one of the romance novels, "As if I've awakened from a dream, and yet, I feel more alive than ever." Thomas nodded in agreement, a slight haughtiness creeping into his tone, "Indeed. It's as though we've been enlightened to a world beyond the mundane." He adjusted his cufflinks, a new nervous habit of him. Jafar chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room. "I'm glad to see you've embraced your new identities. Tell me, Finn, how do you feel about your newfound... preferences?" Finn blushed, a pink hue spreading across his cheeks, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "It's... intriguing. I never imagined myself as... gay or even a bottom. But now, I can't deny the appeal." He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor, unsure of how to process this sudden shift in his desires. Thomas placed a reassuring hand on Finn's shoulder, a confident smile playing on his lips. "It suits you, my friend. And as for me, well, I find myself quite enjoying the role of a bisexual top." He flashed a mischievous grin at Jafar, as if challenging him to disagree. "Wonderful," Jafar purred, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "I'm thrilled that you've both found your true selves. And I must say, the dynamic between you has certainly improved. No longer are you boring, straight jocks. Now, you are intriguing, cultured young men." Finn and Thomas shared a hesitant smile, still adjusting to their new personas. Jafar flattered, "You two are perfect! Lex will be thrilled to have such refined companions." "Lex?" Thomas queried, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching. "Ah, yes, our dear friend. We must catch him up on all our recent...enlightenments." Finn smirked, a flash of the old mischief in his eyes. "Absolutely. Though I daresay he might not recognize us in our new incarnations." "Nonsense," Jafar said, waving a dismissive hand. "He'll adore you even more now. Your transformation is complete, and you are now the epitome of cultured, pretentious bisexual or completely gay dandies." "Bisexual dandies?" Thomas repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I rather like the sound of that." The three shared a laugh, their voices echoing in the spacious living room. Jafar's laughter held a note of triumph as he reveled in the success of his manipulation. The once-common soccer players were now forever changed, molded into the perfect companions for Lex, with a touch of arrogance that would ensure their loyalty to Jafar. The genie's eyes glinted with a dangerous mix of cruelty and satisfaction as he reveled in his successful manipulation. Little did they know that Jafar was plotting far more than just their transformation. He intended to make Finn his pleasure boy, and with each passing moment, his plan unfolded, ensuring their obedience and his own sinister pleasure. "Now, my dear friends," Jafar continued, his voice like silk, "let us discuss the many pleasures and privileges your new lives have to offer." And as Jafar led them deeper into the world of decadence and dark desires, Finn and Thomas had no idea of the true extent of their transformation or the role they would play in Jafar's grand scheme.

[beatrixstonehill2]

Soooo this rich photographer flew me out to his waterfront penthouse overlooking the city..... You know, he did what photographers do and filmed me, took pics, got me nice and drunk. He showed me his place, mind you he's in a fancy suit and I'm in this bikini, my cock is basically falling out of it and I'm rock hard the whole time I'm there. He shows me this gorgeous portfolio of other trans girls he's worked with, mostly videos on his computer, and oh my god..... I started fondling my cock as he kept showing me some of the prettiest girls I've ever seen, huge breasts, curvy asses, perfect smile, juicy cocks.... But every video ended with a shirtless man. I didn't get it and he told me not to worry, so I kept playing with my cock, sipping my wine as he showed me more.....

The videos always ended the same. Some handsome guy flexing his muscles, looking really hot tbh, most of them had beards or well-groomed facial hair, none were shaven. They all exuded the kind of masculinity I find super hot, def the kind of guys I love my plump ass to be fucked by. The photographer finally turned to me and told me the men were all the very same people as the sexy girls he showed me. He had a really big kink for convincing trans girls to detrans. I was floored, but kept jerking my cock..... He saw this and smiled. He told me he'd happily pay me 100K to detransition. I jerked super fast and nutted, drooling like a good little whore, eyes rolling back......

"100K? You want to see me become a boy that badly???" I panted, jerking my flaccid cock as it drooled more cum, soon getting erect again.....

"Just look at you, already a machine. Imagine what that cock could do on testosterone. I'd love to see you give up becoming a girl for good. Embrace being a guy, which is what you really are, princess.

I bit my lip, my cock responding so well to his words, nice and full again. "Please..... I like being a girl but I mean.... You really really wanna see me detrans, I can tell!"

"I do. I want to see you get muscular, pumped full of so much T and steroids nobody would ever know you were living as such a pretty girl, or at least a decent imitation, not that you pass, darling. You're hot but that cock is a dead give away, and you still look like a boy, but you already knew that, didn't you?" He stroked my chin.

I nodded softly. "I don't pass at all, do I?"

"Not in the slightest, you poor misguided fakegirl. I'm surprised anyone even thinks to gender you correctly. It definitely doesn't help that you're so proud of your cock and flaunt it all over social media, walking around in dresses with a full erection. You can just see people roll their eyes forcing themselves to call you a girl to be nice. But like I said, your face is still very masculine, totally a dead give away. Are you sure you aren't already growing facial hair? I swear I see a shadow."

I was blushing so hard, fully erect and jerking super hard again. "I mean, estrogen only helps so much, I started transitioning at fourteen! But by then..... and sometimes I forget to take my hormones and, ummmmm...... soooo, this is how deep my voice actually is." I used my real voice, sounding pretty much like a guy.

"Wow, I mean you still sounded like a boy pretending to be a girl before but I had no idea you basically already went through male puberty..... that explains why your cock is so huge. You you're pretty much not even a trans girl, you're a femboy with implants?"

I nodded, cumming again, shooting rope after rope. "Mmmmm, maybe? Sorry I don't pass very well..... I hope you still find me sexy...."

"Oh, all the sexier, in fact I'm going to take that fat ass of yours for a nice ride in a moment..... just after I give you your first official T-shot, so let's celebrate you no longer pretending to be a girl. From now on you'll be a good boy and masculinize yourself as much as possible, OK?"

"Yes..... sir..... anything else before you have your way with me?"

"I want you to post a video of yourself to your Instagram, talking in your real voice, that you're detransitioning and getting your DD implants yanked out next week."

"OK..... whatever you like. ❤️ I need to give up playing pretend..... thank you for helping me!"

"It's my pleasure, helping boys like you is my greatest passion."

Needless to say..... I won't be looking back, and I have a few more fakegirl friends I think I'll send his way....

[euijoosorangeslice]

omg maki as ur bf headcannons was sososo cute would u be able to write one for jo? tyty !!

Jo Boyfriend Privileges (&team)

PDA

• I feel like Jo is in the middle when it comes to public displays of affection. Of course he wants everyone to know your his sweet girl, but it can get a little embarrassing at times.

• having such a loving girlfriend means that you always want to show him off, want to kiss him in public and have him hold you

• and he’s more than glad to, honestly. He just probably wouldn’t be the one or initiate the touch. He will admire your lips but will hesitate to kiss them.

•he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it will take time for him to warm up and get used to your style of romance.

Partner Privileges

• Jo is the type of boyfriend who is always going to be there for you. Tripped on one of your cats toys and your foot hurts just a little? Your boyfriend is by your side and cooking, cleaning and helping you around the house without wanting you to lift a finger.

• Dates with Jo are unique, never something you’d expect. One week it’s a waterfront picnic, the next one it’s a ride on a skyline cart. He just loves spending time with you, seeing that smile on your face keeps him going.

• He seems like the type to have attachment issues, so if he’s out of town or at practice he’s always going to call you during his free time to hear about your day and so he can talk to you about how much he misses you (and your touch)

• Jo also almost idolizes you. He’s always staring at your photos, admiring your features and his favorite things about you. He can’t always say what he wants without getting flushed, so he writes you letters.

Love Languages

• On that note; one of his favorite things to do for you is writing letters. He always gets you a gift with a letter, because pen ane paper help him show you what using own mouth could never. And he has such a beautiful way with words.

• with forms of art, Jo also makes you drawings of things that you value. Say you walk past a field of flowers and take a photo of a certain patch. You’d say something about how their petals remind you of a night breeze. About a week later, he’d come to you with a painting of that flower in the night.

• Jo isn’t a big toucher but one thing he’s big on is receiving praise. He’s not very good at giving it, but he is always more than happy to receive it. Whether it be telling him he did a good job on his painting or that his coffee he brewed for you tasted amazing, it will never fail to make his ears red and bring a smile to his face.

[yuzukult]

crush 03 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 03 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.4k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: sorry i actually finished this weeks ago but forgot to post it.. embarrassinng frfr

This place looks… a bit shady.

The address Wonwoo sends you doesn’t show a brief description on Google Maps as it normally does, and it’s missing a preview picture of what the location is supposed to look like. When you pull up into the driveway, the asphalt fades into a dusted dirt road with cars of all ages, models, and manufacturers that line up against the fencing before you notice a building with an open garage on the opposite side.

That’s where you spot Wonwoo, crouched over in a white tank and torn up black jeans with a soiled rag over his shoulder. The driver’s window of an old Chevy is down, and Wonwoo has his forearms resting against the panel, casually conversing to the operator of the vehicle. He’s… got nice arms. But that’s besides the point.

He taps against the door. “Tell me when you need me to take another look at the ventilator. Should be workin’ this time around, but if not, Imma have to advise you to get ‘nother car.”

At first, you didn’t get to make out the facial features of who was inside. The reflection of the beaming sunlight hitting the front windshield made it arduous to identify the driver, but when she peeks her head out just barely, you could pinpoint the owner of those pearly white teeth anywhere. It’s the cute flag girl that Seokmin took home that one day.

“Why? When I could just keep coming back to you instead?” 

But in lieu of reacting decrepitly to those pretty lashes that brush against her cherry tinted cheekbones like Seokmin does, Wonwoo is a major contrast when he slaps the top of the car with a charming smile. “Sweet, but it’s better to see your mechanic less and not more. Head home now, and only call if something happens to your car.”

With a failed sigh and pout, she waves goodbye to Wonwoo who watches as her car takes off.

Although when his eyes lands on you and your shitty ass Toyota, a show stopping grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. Wonwoo gestures for you to come to where the flag girl was earlier, and part of you feels a bit… special from the way he looks at her then at you. He seems happier, excited, even. 

Why couldn’t Seokmin look at you in that way?

Hopping out of the car, you puff your cheeks. “When I said I’d let you take me on a date, I didn’t think it would be here at your shop.”

“I know girls like you,” he begins, crossing his arms before leaning against the doorframe of the garage. Raising a brow, you’re not sure where he’s going with that, but you remain silent to let him continue. “You probably get asked out often and have the most boring dates. What’s the last date you've been on?”

That required some thinking. Maybe it was that guy you met on Tinder and took you out for a candlelit steak dinner. Or even that one dude who took you to that art gallery.

You don’t respond though because Wonwoo seemed to have wanted to guess himself. 

“Steak? Dim lighting, candles, maybe? Museums? How about even a walk by the river or waterfront, letting the cool breeze hit your face? Bet he tried to get into your pants after, which was why you didn’t call him back.”

That last one got you. You’ve been on that one before too, and had the same scenario happen. “What are you getting at here?”

He leans over to open your door wider, and you step aside. Reaching to pull the tab that pops the hood of your trunk, it only confuses you more on what he’s going to do next. “Well, I wanna be memorable, not some guy you went out with. Imma teach you how to change a flat.”

“I don’t have a flat.”

“Make believe, doll,” he chuckles, slamming your door shut. He walks to the back of your, pushing the trunk up, and his eyes skim the contents of the back. That term of endearment from Wonwoo is a new one, and for some reason, if it came from someone else, you’d be disgusted. But from him? It’s… kind of alluring? “Why you got so much junk in here?”

You flinch, immediately rushing to his side when the memory of what’s in your car comes to mind. “Oh shit, I—”

“Emergency one night stand kit?” He quirks a brow, lifting up a little tote back with the words woven into the canvas fabric. “You don’t look like the type.”

“It was a gift!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your cheeks as you snatch it back from him. “The contents inside don't match what the writing insists the purpose is for, I promise. I don’t do one night stands.”

“I know.” Wonwoo watches you in amusement, adoration swirling in his pools of chocolates he calls eyes. “You're one of those hopeless romantics. It’s taking a lot for you to even come on this date with me.”

You roll your lips in response, avoiding his loving gaze as you shuffle the stuff to make way for the lid of the compartment at the bottom of trunk. “How would you know that?”

“Because I see the way you look at Dokyeom, and it’s kind of the way that I look at you.” You choke on your saliva. Were you really that open of a book? Surely, it was true, but you didn’t think you were that obvious.

Dokyeom. It’s weird how Seokmin is your supposed best friend and yet there was so much about him you didn’t know. There was something underlying that he was hiding, and you want to dig deeper. Who was Dokyeom as this version of himself that he never once shared before? 

You clear your throat, warmth rushing to your cheeks. Wonwoo is rather bold. “Um, so… are you gonna teach me how to change my tire or what?”

Wonwoo knows he caught you in that moment, but he doesn’t pry for more. “Aight, well roll up your sleeves and let’s get our hands dirty, love.”

He shows you the compartment to find the spare and tools, the latch that you’ve always looked over is the one he pulls to expose another layer of your car. Was that what it was for? You sort of just threw your shit on top of it and hoped for the best. 

“Here, you’ll find your spare tire. I highly recommend that you don’t just ride it forever just cause you got it on. It’s a spare, it’s temporary. Don’t ever use it for long, it’s not meant for it.”

There’s a long, metal tool he brings out that resembles a cross. “This is a wrench,” then he grabs an unfamiliar mechanism in the shape of a diamond with a flat top, “the jack,” and finally, he points to the tire that peeks out just barely. “Lastly, the tire. Kinda heavy, but I can help you—”

“I got it,” you state daringly, shoving him to the side. 

He chuckles at your boldness with that look of veneration on his face like you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. “Okay, well, grab that—” Wonwoo gestures at the tire, watching carefully to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, “and just… lay it on the ground. And we’re gonna put the jack under the car.”

Oddly enough, Seokmin never really wanted to teach you how to change a tire. You’ve mentioned it to him once before—you found yourself on the side of the road on a highway, phone up to your ear as you frantically called your best friend to be your knight in shining armor. 

And when he arrived twenty minutes after your cry for help, he slammed the car door behind him with that smug look on his face as he said, “You rang?” 

But that was when he was more reliable.

These days, your calls are missed and you rarely see him as often as you used to. He’s so caught up in his new life, his career, and all the girls that you’ve only become a sliver of importance to him.

Somehow, you end up with a smear mark on your cheek from moving all the equipment around. Wonwoo thinks you’re cute like this; admittingly, you were just a girl he found attractive with an amusing attitude. But that night. That night the two of you exchanged numbers—it was the first time he ever met someone that tugged on his heartstrings in this way. How’d he get looped into talking to a girl over text for hours?

“Like this?” You query, looking up at him from below. The tire lock is fastened onto the lug nut of your rims with a socket wrench in your hand. “So, I just…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo leans over, hand on yours as he shoves the head of the tire iron to fasten against the lock. “Then you just…” he drifts off, and instead of pushing you aside to do it himself as Seokmin would’ve, he guides you with his movements. Thrusting his weight and yours against the wrench, he turns it multiple times before the first one releases and drops onto the floor with a clank. “The first one is always hard because it’s anti-theft, but the other ones are a bit easier. If you can’t get it out, just… put your hands on the hood of the car and jump on it. Wanna finish it off?”

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Getting the lug nuts off was easier than you thought (were they on tight enough to begin with?) The tire tilts over to you, and you’re quick to catch it and set it aside. Wonwoo rolls the spare in your direction, watching as you puff your cheeks with a layer of sweat on your skin. You don’t seem bothered, despite the droplets that stream down the side of your neck, and he sort of expected you to confront him about this being a first date. Who takes a girl to learn how to change a flat for a first date?

Not many guys, that’s for sure.

With Wonwoo, he doesn’t act like a savior. When you’re struggling with pulling the tire off, he doesn’t come in and take over—he asks if you’d want his help, and when you’d reply with ‘no,’ he stays put. 

“Okay, next, you should put the spare where you took off the flat. Then secure it with the nuts, and put the car down with the jack. You should be good to go after you use the wrench to tighten it some more.”

“Hold this for me,” you drop the wrench in his palms and he’s fast in abiding. Aligning the spare tire to the bolts, you mount them by tightening the lug nuts into their initial spots by hand. Finally, stepping back, you lower the vehicle with the jack as he advises, snatching the tool back as he snickers at how focused you’ve become. 

You use all your strength—practically the entirety of your weight impeling into the wrench to secure the bolts in place. With a puff of exhausted air, you shove it back into Wonwoo’s hold. “Okay, done. Check it.”

He eyes you impishly, making his way to the spare that you proudly installed yourself, casually popping the head of the wrench to fit the lugs without much difficulty. Wonwoo does it with ease; everything happens so fluidly, from the way he checks the tightening of the lugs to the kick of the tire to see if it would slip out in any way. Your breath gets caught in your throat, a bit anxious of the results, but when he turns to you with a soft smile, your chest releases the tension.

“Wow, impressive for the first try. You sure you’ve never changed a flat before?”

“Promise,” you cheekily grin back. He’s sort of… cute. He reminds you of those flakey croissant pastries, expectant on the outside that the dish you pair with a cup of coffee would be just buttery. But taking in a bite, the strawberry jam spews from the insides, the fruit preserves leaving a candied taste on the tip of your tongue.

This was just part of the date, you soon learn, because after Wonwoo helps you wash your hands in the sink in his garage, he leads you behind the building where a field of green lies. 

His auto shop was located on the borderlines of the city and the suburbs—just a couple blocks over, if you took a step to the left, you would’ve been on the outskirts of the city lines but one move to the right, you’ll find yourself in the heart of the crowd of skyscrapers. Farther back of the property, the dusty road fades into a green field (well, sorta. It’s got patches, definitely needs some TLC, but you digress), and although it’s not the prettiest with scattered pieces of car junk across the lawn, his setup that he has displayed makes it… cute. He’s got this red and white checkered blanket that lays on the grass, boxes of screws on either corners and a hammer thrown at the other. 

You glance over at Wonwoo.

He’s quick to shove it off the blanket, dropping the wicker basket where the hammer once was. 

“Were you premeditating a murder?”

“If the night doesn’t go well, maybe,” he jokes. “I’m kidding, I had a feeling it was gonna get windy and I didn’t want the two of us spending half the day trying to get the thing to stay still. I did it myself before you came.”

He’s kinda cute.

“I couldn’t dress as nicely, I realized I don’t think I own any pairs of pants without a grease stain on it,” Wonwoo admits apologetically, plopping down on the blanket in his raw hemmed black jeans and the short sleeve button up that he doesn’t bother actually buttoning up. Part of you is tempted to ask him if he bought those jeans like that or if he cut it himself (you think it’s the latter). 

Seokmin always had a thing about his appearance. The cleaner and slicker you seem, the more name brands that decorate your clothing, and the type of vehicle you drive says a lot about you. 

But to Wonwoo, it’s clear that those things don’t matter. 

He’s not rich in terms of the money stashed in his pockets or the digits in his bank account, but his wealth resides within his personality and knowledge. As you slice off a piece of cheese to pair with your cracker and prosciutto off a charcuterie board he attempted to make (you give him props for this as he humbly mentions he gives all the credit to those moms on forum websites posting their recipes), you learn more as to why Wonwoo never went to college—both willingly and unwillingly. And yet, he harbors so much wisdom in terms of cars and racing, earning all your respect that he chose a non-traditional route and remains successful.

You recall that night over the phone how he wished he could go to college, but he doesn’t have the means to. Wonwoo dropped out of high school during his senior year, just months before graduating, and although he didn’t fully explain why, the admiration in your gaze when he mentions he’d gotten his GED several months ago is evident. 

Wonwoo isn’t what you’re used to; growing up, it was established that you were to meet a man with a bachelor’s degree, and the bonus is if he obtains a master’s. When your hands are stained, whether it be grease from the stove, oil from a car, flour from dough, or paint off a canvas, it’s recognized as a labor intensive job and the more physical work you do, the less intelligent you are.

This was not the case. 

Admittingly, he doesn’t know anything about kinematics or conservation of energy, but he knows what to do when your carburetor is failing or if your water pump leaks. Analyzing the works of Shakespeare or reading a novel without dozing off wasn’t quite his forte, but he’s better in other fields and there’s so much admiration for that. “I like jobs that give back to society,” he said that night, and it gifts you the perspective that there is more to the world beyond being employed at a corporate company. Wonwoo sets a different standard for you, but even on a sweet date like this where he’s pouring a glass of moscato for you as you watch the sun setting in the horizon… you can’t help but let your thoughts flood with Seokmin once again. 

When Wonwoo’s eyes curl into moon crescents with a laugh so buttery and deep, you discern a lot more clearly how much Seokmin has a hold on you. A great guy sits before you and you can’t get your head unwrapped from Lee Seokmin.

“When’d you get into racing?” You ask, deciding that maybe if you get to know him better, you’d stop thinking about the guy who’d rather be at a rooftop bar downtown with a girl he just met fifteen minutes ago. “I’ve never seen you at any of the tournaments.”

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his hands off each other from the crumbs. “About a month before that cup. One of the sponsors of the stadium saw me racin’ on the streets a couple months ago. Once he found my name, he got me a competitor’s license and forced me on the track. Said somethin’ like he’d help me pay for everything, including two months of mortgage on my shop.” Wonwoo shrugs, reaching over to grab another cracker from the bag. “Two months is a lot. Plus, if he’s paying for everything else and all I needed was a crew, not a big deal. It’s really just a money game.”

You purse your lips. “Any reason for him to want you to race?”

“It’s probably gettin’ boring watching Dokyeom win all the time.”

Oh. You never really thought of it like that. “But he won the circuit,” you clarify. “I don’t get it.”

He grabs a handful of the crackers and lays it across the wooden board for you, adjusting himself on the picnic blanket as he tilts his head to the side. “Yea, but I also came in second with milliseconds on the clock. Not to mention that this is the first of the series–I think they just want somethin’ new to the competition ‘cause there hasn’t been any fresh meat lately. Or, if there are any, they ‘un really last.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re not fresh meat–you raced on the streets.”

Wonwoo winks playfully. “You know that, but they don’t.”

There’s a lot to unpack–the recruiting of Wonwoo into an industry that he didn’t really see himself in, only to be lured to race with a bribe because it was getting boring to watch Seokmin win so frequently? You have a never ending list of questions, ones that Wonwoo couldn’t necessarily answer, but one you were suspicious enough to keep digging. But when Wonwoo lifts the honey dipper made of turned wood to collect the honey from the jar and onto your chunk of cheese, he says one last thing that erases all your curiosity.

“Dokyeom almost got a monopoly on stock car racing. No new consistent racers in the past two years entering this category, instead they’re headin’ off to Formula 1 or drag. They’re losing all potential new money ‘cause there’s nobody that can match his potential. Thinkin’ that the guy just wanted me there to get the ball rollin, let people know that it’s not impossible to beat the Lee Seokmin.”

Popping the piece of parmesan into your mouth, you roll your lips. “Well, you didn’t beat him either,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes with a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. He’s got the same sense of humor as you do, and he makes it a little hard not to get enticed by his charms. “So what of it?”

“I didn’t have to beat him, I just had to get close enough,” he grins. “Why? Are you not impressed that I didn’t beat him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Mm,” he nods slowly while feigning a frown. “Damn. Should’ve told me earlier, maybe I would’ve actually tried beating him then.”

How did this conversation end up looping right back into Seokmin when you asked to distract yourself from him?

“Do… Do you even like racing, Wonwoo?”

“Honestly?” he glances over at you before looking back at the sunset. The hues of warmth that radiate the ordinary star is a pretty sight as it shines on his face, and it’s evident why he’s enamored by many. “No. I like cars, and I love the speed, but I prefer being under the hood than behind the wheel. Knowing how the gears turn and what’s the reason for the black smoke and why your car stutters is more appealing to me than burning rubber on asphalt.”

“Hm,” you hum, remaining silent to bask in the fresh air. You say it often, but Wonwoo is…different. He indulges in the present moments in life; he doesn’t dwell on the past, in fact, he embraces it and learns from it. The type of person that travels with a loose agenda, a couple locations and hot spots in mind to touch, but never abiding by what’s written as if it’s set in stone. 

He’s carefree. Flowing like linens hanging dry on the clothesline on a warm, breezy day.

“And what about you?” he asks, those chocolate swirling orbs just full of adoration and interest. Wonwoo looks at you in a way that you could only dream for Seokmin to do the same, but he’s slowly easing you into the idea of it being someone else. “Do you like cars? Racing?”

“Have you seen my car?” you laugh, quirking a brow. “To me, a car is just something that takes you from point A to point B. Otherwise, it means nothing to me.”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Tilting your head to the side, it’s your turn to gaze at him with intrigue. 

“You just… see cars differently than I do,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s not bad, but it holds so many meanings for me, left core memories, and for you, you blatantly say that it’s a means of transportation.”

You feel bad for saying it like that but… it is just a car.

“It may seem like just a car,” he begins, and you think for a second that he reads your mind. “But every meaningful moment in my life had a car involved in it.”

Maybe Wonwoo has a point—it’s like how some people just view a croissant as just a flaky pastry you could have with coffee in the mornings or tea in the afternoons. But others, the aroma of freshly baked croissants imbues the kitchen, creating a wave of nostalgia sweeping over them. The residual butter left on their fingertips when they tear into the crisp, crescent shaped pastry is a sign that it’s been made with the utmost love, just as their elder relatives baked it.

“Do you have something like that?” It’s… a good question. Truthfully, you’ve never thought about that before, and maybe it’s from the way you live your life, but you’ve hardly stopped and just immersed yourself within a moment. “I… I don’t think I do. I’ve been so caught up in preparing for what’s next that it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Well,” he begins, taking a bite from a cracker. “Let that be something you figure out before the next time we meet.”

You quirk a brow in amusement. “You’re already thinking about another date?”

“Aren’t you?” He mimics your expression. “I thought you’re always thinking one step again. Unless, you don’t view me in that way and decide that there wouldn’t be a next time?”

There is definitely a next time. 

Actually, there ends up being a lot of “next times.”

In fact, meeting with Wonwoo has become a routine. 

There’s excitement that runs through your veins, similar to the adrenaline rush that Seokmin raves on about when he races, except this is simply because of your eagerness to see Wonwoo after work. Once the clock strikes five, your bag is already slung over your shoulder with the door shut behind you.

Some nights, you find yourself drowning in projects with deadlines, stuck in the four walls of your office that feel like they’re closing in. It’s suffocating—spending more than the required eight hours in what feels like an enclosed space, wishing that you could be anywhere else but there.

That is, until you and Wonwoo grew closer.

You never thought of yourself as someone who would find comfort in the sound of tools clanging against each other or on the concrete ground. Wonwoo likes to blast a mixtape he made back in high school—which basically was just a list of songs that you’d know the lyrics to because you used to have it on full volume with your whole emo getup back in your rebellious and angsty teenage years.

When you started to spend more time in his shop, he made a note to build a make-shift desk for you–yes, it was basically a tool cart with a long piece of a wood plank, but with the wheels locked, a swivel chair he used to run reports at his shitty computer (that was also on another tool cart) and a lamp he bought from Walmart (it has a pink base, he thought you’d like that), it felt welcoming. After a long day at the office with work still not done, this change of scenery is nice, especially since Wonwoo makes it crystal clear that he wants your company.

Some days are more uneventful than others, but nonetheless, they’re nice. You liked the calmness–there was something soothing about that roar of the engine when Wonwoo would lean into the open window to turn the key in the ignition for a test run.

Today, though, falls a bit outside of that placid routine.

You drop by, mostly because you’re bored and you don’t want to be alone in your apartment, plus it’s almost guaranteed that Wonwoo would be at the car shop (well, also because his place is literally… connected to it. You opened the wrong door trying to find the bathroom once, only to see this huge backroom that looked like a loft. Wonwoo loves work so much that he lives in it).

As you enter the garage, eyes glued to the screen of your phone, your car keys dangle from your fingers as you’re tapping away. “Do you wanna order dinner? I heard there’s this Chinese place a couple blocks down–they deliver so we can just call–”

“Ehem,” Wonwoo clears his throat, arms crossed over his chest. Attention now on him, that’s when you notice the other four men in the shop, casually sitting on the couch, leaning on a car, and standing beside Wonwoo. “Um, so these are my friends.”

Friends. Wonwoo introduces you to them; Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon are their names, and from what you recall, they seem to have been the same guys that were on his crew back at the track. They’re all car guys, you learn, knowing Wonwoo from way back and it makes you wonder if they knew Seokmin–or well, Dokyeom–at the time but you don’t probe for more. If Seokmin wants to remain mysterious, then he can stay that way.

“So,” Mingyu, who is definitely over 6-feet tall, begins cheekily, pushing himself off the car. “Are you the reason why Wonwoo won’t come out with us to drink? We’ve been asking him for the past month to come out and he keeps giving us bullshit excuses.”

You blink blankly. Was… Wonwoo turning them down to see you?

“I’m sorry,” you turn to stare at Wonwoo for a brief moment before turning back to Mingyu. “Was… Was he doing that? I didn’t even know.”

“He must like you,” Seungcheol chimes in, snickering as Wonwoo smacks Seungcheol’s chest with the back of his hand. “What! I’m just sayin’. You never reject us. Except for that one time your mom came into town, but other than that, you’re basically always comin’ with us. Did a surprise drop by… lo’ and behold. Jeon here's got a girlie.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he twists around to snatch a carton of cigarettes off the shelf of his supplies. “You came for the cigs, bro. Stop saying shit. You’re gon’ scare her.”

“Ohhhh,” Minghao chimes in teasingly. “So you care about what she thinks of you–thinks of us. That’s cute,” he hops up from the couch before coming over to you. “If Jeon gives you a hard time…” with a wink, he then gestures to the other boys to follow. “Just lemme know. Or any of them. We’ll be back around, so we’ll catch you later. Nice to meet you, cutie.”

When they leave, you’re left alone with Wonwoo once again.

“Am I holding you back?”

Wonwoo stares at you blankly with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the red tool cart roller. “Holding me back from what?”

You shrug, putting down your phone onto the make-shift coffee table (it’s just a creeper parked on a cardboard box). “I don’t know. They made it seem that way—I mean, we’re not really dating, so I feel bad if I’m… holding you back from anything. You should see your friends—whether or not we are together.”

“I can make that decision for myself,” Wonwoo shoots back, pushing himself up as he makes his way to the car in the garage. “They’ll see me around, not a big deal. And yeah, I’m down for Chinese. You tryna get me the vegetable lo mein?”

You eye him carefully. The thing with Wonwoo versus Seokmin is that he says it straight up—no hesitation, no crazy maze where you need to probe for clues to reach the end, and he doesn’t expect you to figure him out in a heartbeat. Wonwoo inspects your actions, and if you give it away that you don’t understand, he’s transparent with how he answers.

Wonwoo doesn’t feel like the game of cat and mouse.

“Do you want to share sweet and sour chicken and maybe some wings?”

“Of course. And make sure they have Coca Cola—not Pepsi.”

When you’re both sitting on his secondhand couch of the garage, utilizing one of the ULINE tool cabinets as a more sturdy table, there’s boxes of Chinese food that’s sprinkled all across. His carton of lo mein is now empty, remnants of the grease left on the sides with bits of bean sprouts too small to grab with his chopsticks and the bones of the chicken wings are left on those crappy napkins that you’d find in fast food joints and coffee shops, saturated in the oils and probably leaving marks on the cart. Wonwoo eats fast but he always stays seated until you finish your meal despite being done his.

He used to keep his garage cold, the overhead rolling door made of metal and not including much insulation from the weather outside, but ever since you’ve kept him company more frequently, he’s installed some ceiling mounted unit heater to keep the area warm. The humming of the machine is what breaks the silence between the two of you, but Wonwoo doesn’t fail to bring it up, nonetheless.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “You usually are babbling about your day right about now. Didn’t you and Sunny go shopping yesterday? She didn’t spill any gossip?”

You roll your lips. Are you normally that talkative around him? And if so, are you really that comfortable?

“Um, yeah, we did,” you begin, placing down your carton of rice. “And sorta. Not really. Mostly complained about work.”

He makes a sound by sucking in his teeth before sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. “Alright, what’s up? Tell me.”

Normally, you’d just… tell the other person to let it go. Even with Seokmin, when he pries, you’re quick on your feet to tell him to ‘not worry about it’ and that ‘this unreasonable feeling will pass eventually.’

But Wonwoo is great at breaking barriers that you never thought you’d do.

Placing down your chopsticks, you let out a sigh along with the drop of your shoulders. “Okay, okay. I just feel bad. We’re not official—and that’s entirely on me, and I really do enjoy spending time with you—whatever this may be—but I also don’t want to be the one to hold you back on things like going out with your friends, meeting other girls, or just… I don’t know. Seeing those guys just made me think of that. I know that you might like me and—”

“Mm, hush.”

You blink blankly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo begins, hands together stiffly in semblance to this situation. “That’s on me too, right? I don’t think you’re leading me on, in fact, I think you’re establishing boundaries—like you are now. I went on a date with you, and it didn’t work. So be it. But—let’s make this clear, we are friends. I’m good with you coming over here whenever you want. And yea, I do like you. You gimme a lot of reasons to, but that don’t mean we can’t be friends. And if it makes you feel any better, I do hang with ‘em, they’re just bein’ dramatic because I spend my weekdays with you the most.”

“Oh,” you reply doltishly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Well, start,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Look, I know that you and Seokmin have these unspoken feelings and I’d rather you resolve them if you decide to take anything further. I’m cool with just chillin’ as friends, and we’re not doing anything wrong by it. I just may be a lil’ sweeter for you is all, only cause I got a crush. But my feelings aren’t hurt by it.”

This is… different.

Although you constantly say that Seokmin and Wonwoo are opposites (well, duh, they’re not the same person), it’s almost become repetitive and annoying how frequent you come to these “realizations.” Wonwoo has evidently seen a lot in his life, endured a lot, and due to that, he’s… emotionally mature. 

As for Seokmin—well, need you say more?

Somehow, the end of the evening isn’t awkward. He makes you laugh with a story about how a client came over, exclaiming on the top of their lungs how the backseat wouldn’t prop itself up, only for Wonwoo to find the seat belt covering the opening that holds it up. Although it was very tempting to smack a $300 invoice to his customer, he chose the better route of just telling them upfront what the issue was.

Although he’s understanding, prioritizing the friendship he’s created with you, he doesn’t make it hard to consider him as more than a friend.

“Well, you look giddy.”

“Hmm?” You respond dumbly, looking up from your phone full of texts. Wonwoo ended up feeling bad that his friends thought he’d been neglecting them, so he agreed to go to a bar tonight with them and maybe hit a club afterwards–but that doesn’t stop him from constantly messaging you. “Me? Or Sunny?”

P flicks your hand. “You, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Sunny snorts in amusement, placing another strip of meat onto the grill. It sizzles from the impact of heat and the fat content of the beef, steam filling the air for a brief second before the ventilator sucks it up. “You didn’t tell us about that date with Wonwoo. You dodged all the texts in our group chat.”

You shrug, grabbing the spare tongs to help Sunny add more meat onto the grate. “Um, because it’s kind of weird.”

P raises a brow. “And how is it weird? Was he strange?”

Sunny’s attention is off of cooking now, diverting toward you. “OMG. Did we make you go on a date with a weirdo?”

You glance over at the two. “Wait-what?” Pretending to resume to the grill, you poke a couple of the raw pieces that lay across with another set of tongs. “No, no. He… He’s honestly great. I haven’t felt that connection with someone in a while–he taught me how to install a spare tire–”

P blinks blankly. “He taught you how to change your spare? What kind of date is that?”

And for a moment, a wash of judgment appears across Sunny’s face but it softens when she finally realizes. “... Because you told him that Seokmin promised to come and “save the day,” didn’t you? Then Wonwoo probably thought for a first date idea… teaching you how to change a spare…”

Then it clicks for P; her shoulders loosen and fall when she’s aware of the meaning behind the date. “He… didn’t want you to depend on Seokmin anymore.”

Sunny frowns, flipping over the meat on the grill. “If that’s the reason… Why’s that weird? Sounds sweet. If anything, I kinda give him props for that. Did he at least take you out to dinner?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Well, he made a whole picnic basket.”

Both Sunny and P glare at you. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“He’s… not Seokmin.”

Gross. It sounds pathetic leaving from your mouth.

The looks that Sunny and P give you are full of pity. How could you be so weak for a guy that doesn’t even respect you enough to hide when he has flings? Someone who claims that they’re yours, but they spent most of their time pursuing anyone but you. It’s a constant recurring thought, and the reminders are always smacking you in the face and yet, you’re here, sitting in front of your two best friends after going on a date with someone who could potentially give you the world and more yet Seokmin still remains on your mind.

“Listen,” P begins, placing down her chopsticks by the side of her plate. Sunny clears off the grill and lowers the fire, mimicking P’s actions with her tongs. “Sunny and I talked about this, and we realized that yes, although we really don’t support this unrequited love between you and Seokmin, it’s still your life and your choices to make. We want you to know that we’re by your side, and behind you through it all, even if you end up with Seokmin, but we’ll say this one last time.”

“We think you should move on, love.” 

Your phone lights up beside you, Wonwoo’s name on display with the preview of his text. He asks if you like mint chocolate, a debate that he and his friends have had since God knows when, and it may determine if he wants to keep chasing you. When you unlock the phone, Seokmin’s chat is pinned to the top with your message being the most recent and sent two days ago. He just… disregarded the picture you shared of the two of you in college, his arm over your shoulders with smiles stretched across your faces.

“It’s… It’s hard,” you admit, and this time, it feels like the weight on your chest releases. “I think… I’d already had this idea that he and I would end up together engraved in my brain that I can’t seem to let go.”

“Well, how about this? You at least keep giving Wonwoo a shot if he does make you happy or if you’re even remotely interested. He seems sweet, and he also seems to know where you stand with Seokmin, which makes it easier to not have to explain to him the situation.”

You roll your lips. “I–Okay.”

Just then, your screen lights up again. Speaking of the Devil.

Wonwoo [11:54PM]: You can hold off on that political question for later. Since you’re still awake… my other friends wanna meet you. Wanna come out and grab a bite w us?

Quickly, you show your phone to the girls.

“Fuck yeah, tell them to come here,” P nearly shouts, and you hush her. “Forreal, give Wonwoo the address. We’ll get more chairs–switch tables if we gotta. I’m tryna see him in person.”

Sunny starts touching up on her makeup in her compatible mirror. “Get them to come! It shouldn’t be too far from where they are, right?”

It wasn’t.

In fact, Wonwoo and his friends were a couple blocks down–when you sent him the text of where you and your friends are, he eagerly sent a screenshot of Google Maps to show how close he was. 

When they walk into the BBQ joint, it’s very hard to miss them. For one, you spot familiar faces—Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon from the shop, followed by three other guys you never met personally before, but you remember them from Wonwoo’s pit before the tournament. It makes you wonder—did he just hire all his friends to be his pit crew members? And if he did, that’s… impressive. You don’t think you could name any of Seokmin’s friends that would spend their Saturday rushing to change his tires—not to mention that they probably aren’t even trained to do it.

Then, you spot Wonwoo. He pushes through the group, shuffling to see where you are, and when your eyes meet, his smile doesn’t fail to stretch across from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, probably from all the shoving. “It’s… Good to see you. Kinda thought you were avoiding me after the mint chocolate question. It can be a touchy subject for some people.”

You let out a laugh; it’s so genuine and warm when it releases from your chest that it causes both P and Sunny to raise a brow at you before glancing at each other.

You’re different around him.

It’s so clear to both your best friends why Wonwoo is the choice you should make, and you’re displaying it right now. The comfortable body language, the laugh, and how you introduce them to him without any nerves. He’s so sweet when he offers to cook (only for one of his other friends to snatch the tongs from him with a hiss to take over, it’s still the thought and attempt that counts).

Wonwoo takes the seat next to you. Of course he does, he likes you, but there’s something inside of you that has trouble with swallowing that information. And truthfully? It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company or want to reject his feelings—if anything, you’ve caught yourself imagining the what-ifs. 

Then, Seokmin’s face shows up in those fantasies.

It’s a reminder of why you need a remedy for your lovesick symptoms, mostly because if a guy like Wonwoo is here with his rowdy friends, unable to keep his eyes that are full of adoration for you, then why would you waste your time with someone else right here?

You could… You could see yourself falling for Wonwoo. It’ll take time, that’s for sure, but you don’t think it’s impossible.

“How do you like your steak?” He asks, tongs in hand as he turns his head away from the grill to look at you. “Medium? Fully cooked?”

“Medium rare,” you answer, and Wonwoo serves you first before kindly asking the same question to your friends. P and Sunny are impressed, rolling their lips to suppress their giggles and teasing, wiggling their brows in your direction. 

“So,” P begins, putting down her chopsticks. “We heard you’re a racecar driver.”

He chuckles, rubbing his nape awkwardly. “I–I wouldn’t necessarily say that. Was a temp thing.”

Seungcheol nudges Wonwoo. “Don’t act all humble. It’s aight to say it, you’re a racecar driver now. You got to compete with Kyeomie, I’d say you deserve the title.” He winks teasingly, but you know he says it to give Wonwoo the push he needs. Seungcheol naturally leads their group of friends; you’ve seen him gesture to Mingyu to grab the tongs and start cooking when he sees plates empty, tell Minghao to ask the server for more drinks when the liquid in the glasses get low, and even just now, when he encourages Wonwoo to be a little bolder. Wonwoo’s pit crew wasn’t just his “pit crew”... they’re his friends. You admire that.

The night runs smoothly. P and Sunny are so impressed and smitten with Wonwoo, constantly encouraging you to make moves on him. Quite frankly, you even… forgot about Seokmin for a moment.

That is, until your eye catches him entering the restaurant.

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[wardenparker]

Win a Date with Javi G, part 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader x Jack Daniels Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.9k   Warnings: Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end. Summary: You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. ✨🎶🥰 Notes: Hey Guys! It's my birthday! To celebrate, Keri and I conceived of this little one shot that turned into a smutty, kinky, fluffy two-parter and I hope you love it as much as we do. For all the folx out there who remember the movie "Win a Date with Tad Hamilton", you'll recognize the inspiration right away -- and reader's hometown is inspired by the waterfront town from "Bob's Burgers". We're all over the map here! Special shouts also to my darling @julesonrecord for imaging how much glitter Eurovision Pop Star Javi G would actually be covered in at every show.

Your eyes are on the verge of crossing when the phone rings, books spread out on your desk in your home office and countless tabs open on your laptop as you try to piece together this bit of research to send off to your bosses on deadline. You almost let the call go to voicemail, too absorbed in this odd passage from an even odder book, but something inexplicable tells you to answer it. The call is Private, the word splashed across your screen as it continues to ring, and your cat meows curiously when she jumps up into your lap as you hit the green button to accept. “Hello?”

Jack tilts the handset for his desk phone against his shoulder and enjoys the sound of the voice on the other end. It sounds attractive, being in the business long enough, you can tell by a voice if the person is gonna be a looker. “Howdy ma’am.” He greets you and then says your name. “Is it a convenient time for a talk?”

Howdy? You make a face instinctively, wondering why you've got a cowboy calling you in the middle of the day. Probably a telemarketer, but what the hell. You've got time. Your cat meows again and you sit back in your chair to let her settle into your lap to be pet while you're on the phone. "Sure," you say after a moment. "What can I do for you?"

“Jack Daniels ma’am.” He introduces himself with a grin as he twists in his ergonomic chair and looks at the poster that is plastered up on his wall for the upcoming world tour. “I’m the CEO of Statesman Talent Agency.” He hums. “And I’m callin’ concerning a little contest that you entered. ‘Win a Date with Javi G’? Does that ring a bell?”

"Oh!" Shooting up straight in your chair almost tips your sweet cat onto the floor but you manage to recover and hold onto her. "Uh–yeah, yes. Of course." Entering the contest had been a whim. A decision made after too much wine and giggling with your best friend. Spain's Eurovision winner Javi G was trying to break out in America and you had loved the album he released - as well as everything he had put out in Spain that you had hunted down on the internet. Your best friend had been able to talk you into entering after about the millionth watching of his winning Eurovision performance. You definitely didn't think you would actually get a call about it though.

“Good, good,” Jack chuckles as he takes his boots off his desk and leans forwards. “I’m tickled pink to inform you that you have won our little contest.” He tells you. “You will be flown out to L.A. to accompany Javi to the Grammys as well as the Universal Music Group after party.” He rambles. “Hotel and your dress will be provided of course.”

"I—"You almost hiccup, the disbelieving laughter coming out of you right away. "Seriously?"

“Now ma’am, my momma would whoop me if I was leadin’ a young lady on.” Jack grins at your reaction, imagining you are about to start dancing. “We do need to be discussin’ some of the particulars. The NDA and the legal-ese stuff the blaster lawyers like to prattle on about.” He hums. “Plus we need to film your ‘official’ win for the announcement. Are you gonna be free next week?”

"I–um–yes, sir, I am." There's no fucking reason in the world to have called him sir, but the cowboy thing just sinks into your brain and the manners pop out by accident. "I work from home and my availability can be made flexible." Having a conventional job for unconventional employers has its benefits.

“Good, that’s good, darlin’.” Jack might get shit for his sometimes seemingly sexist way of speaking, but it’s not often. “I’ve got your information right here in front of me and will be sendin’ you an email.” He promises. “Congratulations.”

"Thank you very much, Mr. Daniels." There, that's more appropriate. It doesn't help that you're nearly vibrating in your chair and about three seconds away from laughing so hard you scream. "I look forward to hearing from you."

“Real soon, darlin’” Jack hangs up the phone and hums, your social media account pulled up and he’s looking at a picture of you. “She’s gonna be perfect.” He predicts with a grin.

As soon as you hang up the phone you're a giggling mess, hugging your cat and giving her all the scratches in the world as she looks at you with distinct concern. Immediately pulling up your best friend’s contact info to call her, you're not taking no for an answer – tonight is going to be takeout and a bottle of wine and celebrating. For a girl who has never won anything before, this is a very big first.

******

Four days later, Jack sighs as he walks down the stairs of the G5 he had flown to your closest airport. Squinting at the light, he’s delighted to find the car waiting for him. The little perks of having an international talent agency often outweighed the long hours and constant ass kissing.

“Thirty minute drive, Mr. Daniels.” The driver tells him when he opens the rear door to let the man climb into the nondescript black SUV. “Not much traffic this time of day.”

“Is there a lot a traffic…ever?” Jack asks, far too used to L.A.’s horrendous traffic in the years he has spent living there. It makes a normal town seem positively quaint.

“People still have to get to and from work.” The driver shrugs and closes the door, only opening his mouth again when he climbs behind the wheel. “Town’s Art Crawl is this weekend, so it’ll get busy fast.”

“Art Crawl?” Jack would normally be on his phone, answering emails but the driver has piqued his curiosity. “What is that?”

“The restaurants and businesses down on the wharf by the theme park all display art by local artists,” the man explains as he heads for the highway. The address he was given is an apartment on Ocean Avenue, so he isn’t worried about finding it. That’s just downtown. “It’s a fundraiser for I-dunno-what. People buy the art and can donate to whatever the cause is at raffles and things. Always brings in the crowds, though.”

Jack hums. “Interesting.”

“Town’s got a lot of good stuff goin’ on.” The driver continues. Having a captive audience suits him. “Just had a big party at town hall for New Years. Community theater is opening a show this weekend. More Art Crawl stuff.”

“Hmmmm.” Jack reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. Maybe Seymour’s Bay isn’t quite as small town U.S.A as he had imagined it to be. “Sounds like this place has some culture.” He says, opening his mail. “You like Javi G?”

The driver glances in his rear view mirror. He was given a name, a time, and an address and nothing else. Now this guy in a Stetson is asking him about some pretty boy pop singer? “Can’t say I’ve heard much,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the kind of stuff my fifteen-year-old daughter listens to.” 

“He is going to be touring in the U.S. in the next three months.” Jack tells him, glancing up from his email for a moment. “Tickets go on sale next Monday.” If there’s anything that Jack Daniel’s excels at, it’s promoting his clients. Even if it’s to his driver for the day.

“Yeah?” The man makes a huffing sound, like the wheels in his head needed some extra oomph to get moving. “It’s her birthday soon…”

“Nothing better than tickets for her and her two closest friends to see the concert of the year.” He reaches into his pocket and and pulls out a card. “If you want to really impress her, call that number and my secretary can set you up with VIP passes for a fair price. Meet and greets.”

The rest of the car ride passes with some grateful squawking from the driver and the usual questions about what it’s like to work for celebrities, and by the time the man pulls the car up in front of the big brick building on Ocean Avenue that houses a florist shop on street level and an apartment up above, he probably should have talked himself silly. Instead he pulls the back door open with a beaming smile and waits for this client to exit. “This is it,” he says, excited for whatever is happening that he doesn’t know about. But excited nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Jack nods as he looks at the neat, well kept building. He steps out of the back of the vehicle and reaches for his briefcase, filled with the paperwork that would serve as the agreement for the contest.

The agent’s arrival time was listed in the email you got last night, and you have been hustling all week long to make sure that your apartment is spotless for his arrival. Putting way too much thought into everything as usual, there are tons of drink choices in the fridge, an entire painstakingly assembled charcuterie platter to offer, and a box of macarons from the bakery down the street that makes the best sweets in the entire world. Even Pyewacket is behaving, just lazing happily in a patch of sun on the arm of your leather sofa. You’re dressed decently, styled like an actual adult, everything is perfect. So when the buzzer for your door sounds, you take a deep breath before you answer without panicking. “Coming!” You chirp through the speaker and head straight downstairs.

He waits, looking around the street and peers into the shop to see the bouquets that are on display. They are beautiful, someone with a skilled hand put them together. It’s ideal honestly and he can already see how the promo’s for the advertisement for Javi’s tour will go.

When the back door to the building opens and you step out, you have to hold back a small giggle at first. There’s a man in a Stetson with a Burt Reynolds mustache peering in the shop window right beside your beaten up little car and you clear your throat politely. “Mr. Daniels?”

Seeing you in person, it's even better than your social media page. Your smile is bright, almost irresistible. He reaches up and sweeps his hat off his head and smiles his most charming smile while he says your name. "It is surely a pleasure to meet you."

The features that you noticed from a distance are the least consequential as the man turns to greet you and aims a smile at you that’s brighter than the sun. Oh god, he’s handsome… “It’s really nice to meet you, too.” You put your hand out automatically, meaning to be polite, and motion to the shop beside you. “Beautiful, right? My sister does great work.”

"It’s your sister's shop?" He asks, glancing back over to the window and then back to you. When you nod, Jack grins and straightens up. "Fine work," he praises. "Probably better that most shops that I've seen charge a thousand dollars a setting."

“She ships long distance and does all kinds of special arrangements.” You tell him, puffed up with pride for your hardworking big sister. “I have her card upstairs, and you should pop in before you leave town. Bring something back to your wife or whoever’s at home.”

"No wife." He shakes his head and winks at you. "Yet." He doubts he would ever marry, his life not exactly conducive to having a little lady putter around the house. "But I know that I send flowers all the time to clients and associates."

“I’ll make sure you leave with Kate’s card, then.” Nodding toward the building, you can’t avoid the little shiver that wink gave you, as silly as it is. “Would you like to come up?”

"I never turn down a pretty lady inviting me upstairs." Jack hums, enjoying the way you seem to fluster. You will look amazing on Javi's arm at the Grammys but that doesn't mean that he couldn't flirt with you and pay you a compliment or ten.

It’s just one flight of stairs that opens into your little place, but the meowing is immediate when your black cat pops out of nowhere and starts inspecting the new arrival. “Pyewacket, be nice to Mr. Daniels,” you instruct, giving her fur a ruffle on your way through the living room. “Can I offer you a drink? Something to eat?”

Jack eyes the fluffy black cat as if he might get attacked and edges past it. Never been a cat man, although it seems to be staring at him judgmentally. "I'm good with a drink." He accepts with a nod and looks at the small dining room table. "Perhaps we can go over the contracts and disclosures here?" He asks.

“Of course.” After going through the drink options you end up pouring two glasses of iced tea and setting them down on the clean table. “I understand the basics. Don’t talk about private things that I might see or hear, and to make sure I actually show up at the appointed time and place or legal action can be taken against me.”

"Right." Jack grins, reaching into his briefcase to pull out the paperwork. "There's also a little disclaimer that any and all sexual activity happens with consent of both parties." He winks at you again and shrugs. "Just in case."

“I—um—okay, that’s…” You look at him curiously. “Is that…something that happens? With these things?” It would be the first you’ve ever heard of anything like it — but then again there is also an NDA on your table right now. 

"If you and Javi wanted it to." He admits with a small grin. "Animal attraction and all. This just states that neither you nor Javi are required to provide intimate acts and if any transpire that it is of your own free will."

“It seems way more likely that I’ll overhear something, but I get it. You have to protect your client.” And since absolutely fucking nothing is happening without your consent - thank you self defense classes - you nod and pick up a pen. “So what happens? I arrive at some decent but inexpensive hotel, stylist dresses me so I look halfway decent, and I walk down the red carpet with him then get sent back to the hotel? Quick and dirty, as they say?”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Oh no." He hums, sending you a cocky smirk. "You will have a suite at the Biltmore Los Angeles and the stylists will be measuring you the day you arrive to make sure the gowns they pull for you to choose from are your size. We have artists come in to do your hair and makeup following a full spa day." 

“Oh.” That’s a hell of a lot more than you expected, and you can’t help but feel a little special and a lot flustered. “That’s a hell of a way to make a girl feel special, Mr. Daniels.”

"This is a once in a lifetime event, darlin'." Jack admits with a charming grin. "Javi's startin' off his U.S. tour with a bang."

“Yeah, I—um…my best friend and I actually pre-ordered our tickets the day the email went out.” You look down into your iced tea sheepishly, but you entered a damn contest for a date. They already know you’re a fan. “Fan Club early access tickets…”

"Fan club, huh?" Jack chuckles and he bites his lip. "Well, we'll just have to upgrade our contest winner to VIP tickets." He decides. "Can't have the woman who goes to the Grammys with Javi G watching his concert from anywhere but front row."

Sure you could demure and say it isn’t necessary, but you’re not at all going to turn down that kind of offer. The nearest big concert venue to you is a decent drive away and you and your best friend had already planned on having to get a hotel room for the night on top of everything else. It is going to be an extra big deal now. “I’m very happy to be extra positive publicity for you,” you tell him instead, knowing that that is probably his biggest and main concern. It doesn’t bother you one bit. 

"Good." He smiles and nods. "Not necessary but we will take all the social media coverage we can get." He does level you a serious look. "Before the winner is announced...you should probably make security changes to your accounts." He warns. "Just in case."

“What do you mean?” The ink is on the page now, your signature on the dotted line of the contract appointing you the winner of the contest, so you sit up to pay attention.

"Sometimes fans can be...invasive." He's sure he doesn't have to tell you about it if you are part of the fan club but he does want to warn you. "Make sure that you aren't getting random DMs and that you accept friends. I'm sure that as soon as it is announced, you will find you have thousands of new followers overnight."

“It will be a very busy weekend, then, I guess.” The email that had been sent to you said the announcement was coming within days of your contract being signed, so that can only be soon. After all, the Grammys are in three weeks. “I’ll change my passwords and privacy settings and all of that. Lock it down. Thanks for the tip.”

"Don't want this experience to be anything but magical." Jack winks again and snaps his fingers. "Oh! Damn near forgot, Javi recorded you a message."

“Oh, that’s—that’s so sweet.” So what if it was in his contract? Or if it was just a thing he would have done for any person who won the contest? It’s still nice.

Nodding, he pulls out his phone and opens up the video. "I'll send it to you, it's going to be posted on the official Javi G tour site after the announcement of your win as well."

The message pops up on your phone right away while you begin to read the NDA, glad to have just a tiny bit of legal knowledge from this and that over time. This one looks nearly identical to one that you signed for a work event some time ago so you sign it without fear. The last piece is the paper listing sexual activity as unattached to the contest and of the own free will of its participants and you shake your head all over again. How many people really just fall into bed with celebrities just because they’re famous? It seems so silly.

Javier Gutierrez, known as Javi G to his fans, pops up on the screen and he flashes the sweet smile that has melted men and women's hearts across Spain and Europe. Now destined to become a major success in the United States. "Buenos dias!" He waves and says your name. "I cannot tell you how I am looking forward to our date." He seemingly speaks to you, making eye contact with the camera. "Perhaps you will make me not so nervous." He chuckles nervously as he says that and continues on. "We will have a wonderful time at the Grammys and who knows?" He shrugs. "You might inspire a new song, cariño." He blows a kiss to the camera. "See you soon."

“He always seems so sweet.” Who knows if it’s a character or not, but even in his little Instagram posts or things like that, he always seems completely earnest and giddy. Like he can’t believe his good luck or something. “Is there anything else I should know? Before the day, I mean?”

"Javi has requested a brunch, or lunch, depending on how hungover the two of you might be." Jack smirks because he knows that is very likely. "Something simple, low key with no social media. His way of thanking you." 

“No dressers for that, I’m assuming?” You tease because it’s in your nature, but you make a mental note to pack your favourite dress to have brunch in. “I can definitely do brunch. Best meal ever invented.”

“L.A. is the city to have it in then.” Jack sweeps up all the signed paperwork and nods. “You will be sent an electronic version of these papers as well. We just like having physical copies.”

“Sure. Makes sense.” Another nod, as you wonder why this agent came all the way out here himself. “Do you…need anything else from me? Clothing sizes, probably?” There had been no request for physical indicators of any kind in the contest entry, so it’s not like he has them on file unless he’s a creeper.

Jack shakes his head. “The stylist will measure you when you land in L.A.” He explains. “Women’s sizes are so varied from brand to brand.”

“Okay.” Nervous again, you shrug your shoulders and take the last sip of your iced tea. “So is that it? I really have no idea how this works. Obviously.”

“Well…yeah.” Jack frowns slightly and picks up his tea again. “The ticket will be sent to you, we are flying you out two days before the Grammys, then back home two days after.” He shrugs slightly. “What questions do ya got for me?”

“Wait, it’s four days?” You almost startle at that news, but manage to shut your mouth after a few seconds. “Okay, uh…what arrangements do I have to make for myself? Hotel for the other nights? Flight home? Obviously you guys aren’t buying my meals or anything.”

Jack frowns. “Darlin’, I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t read the fine print.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Everything is included. There and back. You are not going to pay for a thing. At least I hope the $300 a day spending money for meals is enough.” They had wanted to make this contest as popular as possible, garnering attention and excitement for Javi G’s tour and it seems as though you didn’t even know what you were getting. 

The disbelieving laugh that that news earns him bursts out of you like an explosion and you end up giggling nervously. “I…had had a lot of wine that night,” you admit. “And I never went back to reread the contest information because I didn’t figure there was any chance I would win.”

“Surprise.” He chuckles and tilts his head. “The prize includes first class flights to L.A. and back, the entire stay at the Biltmore and twelve hundred dollars to be spent at your discretion for food. For four days. And the room service in the hotel is included with the room.”

“I’ll grab a city map and a rental car when I land and I’ll be good to go.” Sitting back in your chair, you blow out a breath and laugh again. “This is a hell of a contest, Mr. Daniels. It’s really a very impressive prize.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I knew there was something they forgot.” He hisses, shaking his head. “We will make sure there’s a car at the hotel.”

“Oh no, that’s not—!” You bite your lip and hope you haven’t gotten some poor office lackey in trouble. “It’s very generous of you.”

“Convertible okay?” He wants to make sure he smooths over this oversight so you are happy as a pig in the mud when you post your stories online. “Drive down Hollywood Boulevard Marilyn style?”

Nearly choking on the first sip of a new glass of tea, your eyes go wide when you look up at him again. “I—that car? The broken down piece of crap you were standing next to downstairs? That’s been my car for seven years and she has been that bad the whole time I’ve had her. A convertible is insane.”

“Then the videos you post – safely – of you driving it with the wind blowing through your hair will be spectacular.” Jack winks.

“Very safely.” You can promise him that with your hand on your heart.

“It’s gonna be a great trip, darlin’.” Jack predicts. “Javi’s gonna love you and you’re gonna feel like a star.”

“I’m very excited.” It felt like a dream to begin with, but now all this? It’s incredible. It’s a fairy tale.

“Perfect.” Jack thinks you’re beautiful and if he didn’t have this contest that needed to be fulfilled, he would be hitting on you. “Only three weeks until you will be in L.A. and posing with Javi on the red carpet.”

******

The first two days in LA are like a whirlwind, posting things to your social media in between sending texts back to your best friend and your sister, doing as many touristy things as you can manage and eating some of the best food you've ever had in your life. This city is like nothing you've ever experienced before and you're enjoying every second of it. The day of the Grammys is an all-day spa treatment for you until you head back to your hotel room. Room service is waiting for you there, and the team of stylists arrive very soon after. The army of dresses that they have with them are all so stunning that you can barely get a good look at one before you're sighing over the next, and they are ready and excited to get to work.

“Knock knock.” Javi can hear the chattering and laughter inside as he stands outside the hotel room with his suit. His hair is already carefully styled and the stylist that is working with you right now is going to finish his look here in your room. Jack had wanted candid photos of you and him getting ready together.

"Oh my god." Sitting at the vanity in the hotel room in your robe and slippers, you swear you nearly fall over right in your chair. "It's you!"

“It’s me.” The door had been left open, due to the people coming in and out of your suite, so he pushes the door open and pops his head inside. “Can I come in?”

"O–of course!" Making sure you're covered by your robe, you get up to offer him your hand and find the smile on your face is even broader than you thought it would be. He's even more handsome in person...how is that possible?

The stylist quickly takes the suit from Javi, leaving him free to take your hand and pull you in for a hug. “Are you excited? I am excited. What a thrilling night!” He rambles, squeezing you tight and pulling back to beam at you, “Jack was right, but he always is.” 

"Jack was right you'd be excited?" He smells amazing despite it probably just being soap, and he's so warm that it radiates through you like you're hugging a ball of pure energy in the form of a man. Or maybe the form of a Golden Retriever Man.

“Jack was right that you are even more beautiful than your picture.” Javi corrects with a shy smile.

"I..." What the hell do you even say to that, when it's being said by the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life? "Thank you." Lame. "You're–I mean–you're incredibly sweet." Thank god you stopped yourself before you told him that he is beautiful, too. That would have been a hell of a way to start the night.

Javi frowns slightly as he panics slightly. “I did not mean to offend.” He hastily corrects, biting his lip. “I– I messed it up, didn’t I? Now you are uncomfortable and will not want to attend the Grammys with me.”

"Javi..." Surprising both of you, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. "I got tongue tied. I was about to tell you that you look beautiful instead of saying handsome. It's...you did nothing wrong. I'm just excited and very nervous."

He swallows, taking a deep breath and sighing out softly. “I–I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “Normally I can pretend to be more collected but I am nervous.” He admits.

"It's okay." Both of you end up laughing a little, and you step back to let him further into the room. "We were about to have a great debate over which gown to put me in. Do you want to weigh in?"

“You have not chosen yet?” He is surprised but delighted. “Have you tried any on yet?”

"They took my measurements when I got into the city two days ago and now I get to try stuff on and pretend to be a model." It's completely surreal and you're enjoying every second of it, if you're honest with yourself. The fact that people have whole lives like this is insane.

“You will look incredible.” Javi has no problem slipping into the chair that you had just vacated and he taps his chin as he thinks. “Is there a dress that matches my suit?” He asks the stylist. “Or should we not coordinate?”

The woman tips her head at Javi for a moment before nodding slightly and pulling away to sift through the garment bags that she brought. "We can make your accessories match," she tells him confidently. "You have pearl and gold cufflinks and gold horsebit on velvet loafers. For her," she nods to you while she talks. "I have two velvet gowns. Both will work with gold and pearl accessories." One gown is lush black velvet and the other is seductive red, both in vintage cuts. "How about one of these?"

Javi looks to you for your opinion. You will be wearing the dress after all. “What do you think?” He asks, genuinely wanting your input. “If you would rather something else, that is perfectly fine too.”

"Velvet is great. I'm not upset about that option." You're not upset about any of this, and you step toward the stylist with the dorkiest thumbs up known to man. "Let's try both on and see which one looks better."

Javi chuckles and nods. “That sounds like a perfect plan. Shall we have some champagne?”

Champagne. On Grammy night. With your favourite singer of all time. While you try on designer gowns. If you could go back in time and tell Little You about all this you'd never believe yourself. "Absolutely. Let's do it. You pour and I'll be right back."

Javi knows that the bucket of champagne is going to arrive soon. Jack had assured him that he was ordering one for when you were meeting him. Knowing that some champagne would calm him down.

Disappearing for the time it takes to wiggle into the red dress, you glimpse yourself in the mirror long enough that you almost sigh. It's stunning. Reminiscent of old Hollywood, it fits and flares in all the right places and the back hangs low enough to show off a whole lot of skin. Unfortunately, you note as you step out for Javi to see the dress on you, it's a little hard to walk in because it is so form fitting.

Immediately, Javi frowns when he sees your lips pinched together in concentration. “What is wrong with it?” He asks, leaning forward. It’s stunning, to be sure, but he will not have you uncomfortable for the entire night.

Biting your lip just gives you away even further, and you shrug a little helplessly. "I'm not very good at being elegant, I guess," you have to laugh to not be embarrassed. "It's a little hard to walk in."

Javi nods seriously, his brows pinching together. You look sexy in the dress and he knows it is flattering, but if you aren’t comfortable, it’s not the dress for you. “No.” He decides, shaking his head. “I wish for you to be comfortable.” He flashes a grin with a roll of his eyes. “As comfortable as you can get in a formal dress.”

The horror stories of being sewn into red carpet gowns, not being able to breathe, or walking in one specific way all night are thankfully not in your future, and you smile gratefully. “Okay. I’ll put on the other one. Be right back.”

“It is beautiful though!” Javi calls after you, watching you toddle out of the room into the bedroom of your suite.

He’s right, obviously. It’s a stunning gown and gorgeously made, but the one and only time you ever walk a red carpet is not going to be a night you have to hold your breath and tiptoe in order to exist. The black velvet dress is slightly shorter, the silhouette is much more comfortable, and the intricate pattern in the material is accented by an off-the -shoulder neckline that makes you feel elegant without being too exposed. It’s perfect, and you know the second you walk out that the difference is immediate.

Javi sits up straight in his chair, captivated by both the dress on your body and the shy smile that lights up your face. You feel good in this dress and that makes you even more stunning. “Estás preciosa. Impresionante.” He murmurs as he stands. “Yes, this is – it is beautiful.”

“It’s so comfortable,” you barely stifle a giggle, gleeful and unable to really wrap your head around your own good luck. “You, um…you like it?” As surreal as it is to have this monumentally talented international star sitting there gauging your appearance in red carpet fashion, you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you would. As you did right when he came in. He just had such a positive energy about him that it puts you right at ease.

“It’s is perfect, no?” Javi bobbles his head enthusiastically as he looks at the stylist for some back up. “She looks like she is a celebrity herself.”

“She will be after tonight.” The stylist hums her approval. “Sit down, honey. Have a drink, chat, whatever you like. Just don’t move your head a lot while we’re putting your look together, okay?” 

“Drink. Chat. Don’t move,” you laugh lightly at the directions and sit back down again, delighting when Javi himself hands you a glass of champagne. The last two days have been surreal, and this has just leveled up to crazy.

“It is easy to do once you remember not to look at everyone.” Javi assures you, sitting down in the chair that has been set up next to yours for last minute touch ups. It will allow him to chat with you and get to know you before the red carpet. “Are you looking forward to the awards?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” It’s such a once in a lifetime chance for you, what’s not to love? “I have no idea what to really expect, though.” A laugh comes easily but you have to remind yourself not to shrug. “I watch it on TV like most other people, but I have a feeling that a lot of stuff happens that isn’t shown on the broadcast.”

“We will find out together.” Javi admits with a giddy grin. It will be his first American Grammy Awards show and he is looking forward to it. “But we will have fun. I am sure of it.”

“We absolutely will.” Looking at him in the mirror as the stylists go to work on both of you, the whole thing is just…it’s perfect. It’s the story you’ll tell for the rest of your life. That time you reached Peak Awesome by winning a contest.

“And then we have the after parties.” He chuckles with an excited grin. “Sharing a drink with all my favorite artists.”

“Are we supposed to go to certain ones?” You had re-read the contract and contest rules over the last few weeks and there was a lot you had missed in your wine haze when you had entered.

“We will make an appearance for Jack. The main party….” He snaps his fingers, unable to think of the name. “Then we can choose where we would go.”

“Universal Music Group.” You remember that one, considering it’s such a big deal. “Jack did a really amazing job setting all of this up.”

“Jack is wonderful at everything he does.” Javi assures you with a small smile. “He has guaranteed my success in the States.”

“Well,” the smile you aim at him in the mirror is shy. “I already have my ticket for the tour. Jack, um…upgraded it. To VIP. So tonight won’t be the only time you see me, it seems.”

“Wonderful!” Javi lights up happily. “I might have to pull you up on stage with me.” He teases with a small wink. “Croon a few songs while you are there and make everyone in the stadium jealous.”

This man just does not do things by half, does he? It makes you wish you had about three more glasses of champagne to justify this bubbly feeling. “Well…he also put me and my best friend in the front row…so if you wanted to, we’ll be right there.”

“Your best friend? Is she a fan as well?” He asks, his eyes wide and sincere. “Or are you dragging her along for someone to attend with you?”

“She’s a fan, too.” You assure him, watching in the mirror as the stylist carefully sets the curls in his hair. “We watch Eurovision together every year, and the first time you performed for Spain…three years ago? You absolutely should have won, by the way, but we’ve both been fans ever since.”

“Thank you.” Javi still has a hard time accepting compliments, even as long as he has been performing, so a blush darkens his tanned features. “I am grateful that you think so. That is what matters to me, people enjoy my music.”

"There are a lot of us out there." If you thought he was sweet before, now you just want to wrap him up in cuddles and protect him with everything you've got. He's just a nice man who wants people to connect to him, and he's so endearing that it makes you ache. "You have a huge community of fans out there. All over the world."

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ducks his head, causing his stylist to huff and remind him about staying still. “Oh! Sorry.” He catches your eyes in the mirror and winces, although he is grinning slightly.

"I promise, you do." Considering you're a member of that community, you would know. But either way, you beam his smile back at him in the mirror. "There are a lot of people in the States who are very excited to see you come over here. It's going to be great."

“I hope so.” He gushes. “I have always dreamed of coming over to American music billboards. ‘Crossing over’.”

His excitement is so sweet and pure, and you can't help the way your smile spreads and spreads the more you talk to him. "I don't know anything about distribution or profits or tours or any of that. But as a fan? There are so many of us who are so excited about this. I think it's going to go really well for you."

“Fingers crossed as the saying goes.” Javi is grateful that you seem to be such an encouraging person and his eyes light up. “We should call your friend!”

"Would you mind it?" Your phone is out on the vanity in front of you and you had thirty seconds worth of forethought this morning to change your lockscreen from a picture of Javi to one of you and your friend and your sister in her florist shop so that when he nods and you pick up your phone it isn't a cringeworthy moment.

“Not at all. You should FaceTime her!” He insists, eyes sparkling with the excitement of surprising your friend.

"Her name is Esme." You're practically giggling as you tap your phone screen, and grateful when the stylists move him slightly closer to you while they work so that you can both be seen in the small screen. "She's going to absolutely lose her mind. So...just be warned."

“That is okay.” He grins as he leans over a bit more to smoosh his face next to yours in the screen as you try to connect to your friend.

The phone rings twice before she picks up, but Esme is currently cat sitting for you and it's Pyewacket's face that greets you instead of your best friend's. "Hey Pye!" You coo at your cat, who looks confused as hell to see you in a little window instead of all in front of her. "Es...put the cat down and say hello," you giggle, still making faces at your cat.

“Aren’t you calling for a Pye check in?” Esme laughs as the feline jumps down and she turns the camera towards her face. “So how is it–” Her eyes widen and she starts to squeal. “OH MY GOD, Oh my god! Javi G!”

"I'm calling to say hi," you cackle, nearly keeling over in your chair to the dismay of your stylist. "Javi thought we should give you a call."

“Oh my god, oh my god, hiiiiiiiiiii.” She gasps out, nearly about to pass out from not taking a breath yet. “I can’t believe that I’m talking to you!”

"I told you," you smirk to the man beside you, but it's all good natured. Everyone deserves a little love and encouragement, right? His just comes from fans. "Es, you have to breathe, babe," you remind her over the camera.

“I’m so sorry.” She looks stricken for a moment. Embarrassed that she might be embarrassing Javi G. 

“Hello.” Javi finally has a moment to speak and he smiles indulgently into the camera. “Do not be sorry. I am happy to meet you Esme. You have a beautiful name.”

“Y-you’re beautiful,” she giggles, like she isn’t a grown ass woman of thirty. “I mean— ah, my friend is the smart one. I’m okay with that. You’re meeting her, she’s the smart one.” 

“Oh, you’re going to lose it even harder at the concert in a couple of months,” you can’t help but laugh, really. Esme wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t apologize for it.

“I will send your friend home with an autograph for you. Is that okay?” Javi asks, raising his brows in question.

“That would be amazing!” Esme squeaks. She would be clapping her hands with glee if she didn’t also have to be holding up her phone. “I’m gonna record the whole thing on your DVR tonight, babe,” she promises you eagerly. “You’ll have it to watch over and over.”

“I will talk to you again before she leaves.” Javi promises before kissing his hand. “Ciao Esme!” He knows they can’t keep talking, needing to finish getting ready and there needs to be behind the scenes photos taken. 

“I love you, honey, I’ll call you later!” You promise her before having to end the call. The clock is ticking and it’s almost time to go. “That was incredibly sweet of you. I know she’ll never forget that in a million years.”

“It was a small thing.” He shrugs one shoulder and gives you an embarrassed grin. “We will have to call during brunch so you can talk longer.”

“Jack said the brunch was your idea?” You ask, setting your phone back on the vanity. “I think it’s absolutely perfect. Brunch is absolutely my favorite meal.”

“I figured that even though the Grammys are exciting, we won’t get a lot of time to talk.” Javi reasons. “But brunch? Brunch is perfect for talking.”

As if to prove his point, the stylists move over to do a full face of makeup on you and just a few small touches on him - bits of eyeliner and glitter that the naked eye would hardly perceive but that enhances his look so much.

Javi grins in the mirror as you open your mouth so the lipstick can be painted on the interior of them far beyond what women normally do. “It should withstand any eating or drinking,” the stylist tells you when she is done, and she puts the tube down next to your phone. “But keep it with you for touch ups just in case.”

“I am glad I do not have to wear that.” Javi hums.

“It’s not so bad.” Lipstick always feels glamorous to you, adding to that elegant celebrity vibe that tonight is giving you, especially after spending all day at the spa. “Besides,” you grin and it wrinkles your nose. “You have more glitter on than I do.”

“To make me sparkle on camera.” He rolls his eyes but he knows the effect will look good on film.

“It’s cute,” you promise him easily. The jewelry and accessories have come out now – the very last thing before you are ready to get into the car to head to the red carpet.

Javi stands and smiles at you. "Now I must put on my own suit to match your beauty."

The whole thing takes less time than you would think, but by the time you’re ready to take pre-show pictures the stylist who is snapping them for you is making silly jokes about adult prom while he does his tie and you check your purse one last time to make sure you have everything. The night is going to be absolutely incredible and you’re starting to vibrate with excitement.

"I must confess." He takes your hand and leans close. "I have been so nervous for tonight that I have not eaten anything." He whispers. "Have you?"

“I’m the opposite.” His hands seem almost twice the size of yours, enveloping yours and keeping you close. “I’ve been nibbling all day to try to take my mind off being nervous.”

"So you would not want a pit stop by In & Out?" He asks, almost pouting at the idea. "I have a wish for their fries and American Coke."

“Well, I think we have to.” You’ve been nibbling today, picking at fruit and cheese, charcuterie and spiced nuts at the spa. As much tea as you could drink. The room service tray was delicious but definitely picked over. But fast food with a pop star is way better than some of the things you had on your proverbial Bingo card for tonight. “I’ve never had In & Out. We don’t have them where I’m from.”

"We can have the driver swing through the drive through on the way." He grins mischievously and nods. "We can experience it together."

“It will make a very silly story in an interview one day. I think it’s an excellent idea.” His phone goes off on the table again, flashing as it sits beside yours, and you see Jack’s name pop up on the screen. “I think you might have some instructions, or hopefully some encouragements, incoming.”

Javi picks up his phone, his face lighting up when he hears his agent's voice. “Rey,” he hums, grinning at you as he speaks. “We are just about to leave.”

“Está bien, zorro.” Jack’s voice on the other end is pleased and honeyed. “Y’all got everythin’ you need? Clothes fit, stylists done their duty? Car should be downstairs waiting for you.”

“Sí.” Javi bobble his head even if Jack cannot see him. His hand reaches up for the necklace around his neck. “We have already taken some pictures, rey. They are fantastico. She is more beautiful that I imagined.”

“I knew you’d like her.” Jack seems satisfied at the choice, and his voice pitches low for a moment. “Now you two behave and I’ll see you at the party. Buena suerte esta noche.” Good luck tonight.

“Sí.” He hums warmly, smiling as he pulls the phone away to look back at you. “Jack will be joining us at the party.”

“Then we better make sure we have fun before that.” Boldly putting out your hand to him, you nod to the door of the suite. “So we can have plenty to tell him.”

He takes your hand and grins. “Are you enjoying your prize so far?”

“It’s absolutely amazing.” And why does holding his hand feel like the sweetest, giddiest thing in the world? Esme’s going to be hearing about this forever, she really is. You could just melt over it. “I still have two more days here after tonight and I just…it’s more than I ever thought it could be. Going home is going to be such a bummer.”

"Where are you from?" Jack had told him the town, but he couldn't remember off the top of his head. You both are out the door and striding down the hallway with the stylists snapping photos of you. Jack probably told them to do that.

“Seymour’s Bay, New Jersey.” It’s a small town that almost no one has ever heard of, and you shrug a little. “We’re a ninety minute drive from New York City, and we have an old style amusement park. Those are about the only notable things from my town.”

"I see." He nods and once you are on the elevator, he squeezes your hand. "So what do you do, Belleza?"

“It’s…kind of weird.” You admit, feeling very schoolgirl in your beautiful dress while the man of your dreams holds your hands on the way to a very fancy party. “I’m a researcher for a podcast. True crime, a lot of history, some supernatural stuff. Sometimes we talk about movies made about true events and what they got right or wrong. It’s basically me and my cat and a whole lot of books.” 

"Interesting." Javi doesn't think it's weird, but he frowns slightly. "Do you do the podcast? Or do you just research for it?"

"I research for it." The frown makes you certain that you've completely weirded him out or made him uncomfortable, and you shrug again. "I studied to be a librarian, but through a series of random events, I ended up becoming a researcher instead. My bosses are great, though, and I can work from home. So it's way better than a lot of other jobs based on just that."

"That is unfortunate." Javi shakes his head. "I think you would be good at the podcast." He smiles. "You have a beautiful voice and I was hoping I could listen to you sometime."

"Anytime you want to hear it, you just give me a call," you joke, never thinking for a million years that he would actually do such a thing.

Javi nods seriously, making a note to himself that he needs to have Jack give him your number. The elevator starts to slow down and he sighs, squeezing your still joined hands. "The car should already be waiting for us."

It is, just as Jack had promised, and the crowd of fans and paparazzi outside that had gotten wind of where he would be are held at bay as you and Javi are ushered quickly into the backseat. More luxurious than any sedan but not quite a limousine, you're glad all over again to be wearing the less cumbersome dress of what you tried on. There is plenty of room to stretch out and be comfortable as the driver pulls quickly away from the hotel entrance.

"I didn't think that there would be so many outside." His eyes widen and he looks back at the crowd that gathered and was still snapping pics as you drive away. "That's crazy."

"Some members of your fandom are...a little more zealous than others." No one was overtly rude or acted out or anything like that, which was fortunate, but it's a very good thing that the car's windows are tinted. The further you get from the group, the harder it will be to pick out your nondescript car from all the other black cars with tinted windows in LA.

Javi scoots forward so he can tap on the the divider between the driver and the you. When the window rolls down, he shoots the driver a grin. "Can we stop by In & Out?" He asks. "We want to grab some food and drinks before the red carpet."

The driver chuckles, obviously having heard this request before, and he nods. "Sure thing, Mr. Gutierrez. There's also some drinks in the cooler built into the seat between you, if you want them. Not sure what Mr. Daniels put in."

"I'm sure Jack put in all my favorites." He grins and nods before he sits back. "Jack stocked the drink cooler in here." He tells you before he reaches for the pull down for the seat.

"He seems to think of everything." When Javi pulls the cooler open there are half bottles of Spanish cava from a vineyard on his home island along with a plethora of canned cocktails in every flavour imaginable and, of course, water bottles. You have to admit to being impressed. Jack seems to be an incredibly thorough man. And that thought turns dirty very quickly.

"He does." Javi nods as he pulls out a bottle of the cava and starts to twist to the wire off the cork to open it. "Shall we share a drink before our fries?" He offers.

"Wine and French fries is actually a combination I've done before," you roll your eyes at yourself. "Because I'm clearly the classiest person you know. But yes, absolutely let's celebrate."

"Cava and papas fritas are a match made in Heaven." Javi insists, popping open the bottle and taking a swig directly from it before offering it to you. "I can open your own if you do not wish to share."

"I'm not fussy." He's charmingly normal, and yet also you don't think you've ever met anyone like him before in your life. He is simultaneously vibrating like an overexcited chihuahua and as laid back as any housecat. When he offers you the bottle you take it, enjoying the heady buzz of more bubbly in your system. Nowhere near even tipsy, you're simply relaxed.

"I must confess." He turns towards you with an earnest expression and leans in close. "I am surprised by how normal you are." His eyes widen, realizing how horrible that sounds. "I mean, how normal you are taking all of this" He rushes out, cursing himself for insulting you. "I would be about to jump out of my skin and you are so cool and composed."

"It's partly the bubbly," you admit with a guilty grin. "But..." Pressing your lips together when you move the bottle away from them makes you look even guiltier, but you can't help it. "I'm just trying really really hard not to weird you out. Like Esme's reaction when we called? I've been doing that on the inside for the entire time."

"Do you want to know a secret?" Javi asks, his eyes widening and he leans in closer to you.

"Very much." And you will keep it secret and safe for as long as you live, just glad to have these memories to hold on to.

"I feel like that all the time." His eyes widen in seriousness and he bites his lip. "I am always anxiously bouncing off the walls and wondering if everyone around me thinks I am crazy."

"How many people have ever referred to you as a puppy to your face?" You ask with a grin, knowing that the majority of the American fandom refers to him as a 'golden retriever boyfriend' with maximum affection. His brow furrows in confusion and he tilts his head to the side as he looks at you. Trying to figure out what you mean by that. "It means you're excitable and sweet and you have really positive energy." The last thing you want is for him to think that you're covertly taking a dig at him or something, because it's completely the opposite. "Your happiness is infectious."

"Oh." Javi nods as he smiles at you, understanding what you are saying now. "Then it is a good thing."

"It absolutely is." You would never have said it otherwise, but you feel a little hazy from how close he is. His presence really is intoxicating.

"I look like a puppy, hm?" He asks, leaning in a little more. "A cute puppy?"

It's criminal the way your heart leaps in your chest, but you're flustering before you can even blink. "I think the agreed upon term is...'Golden Retriever Boyfriend'," you admit sheepishly.

"Golden...Retriever...boyfriend..." He says it slowly, letting the words roll on his tongue. Biting his lip again as he thinks about the nickname that he is apparently known by. "Do a lot of people call me that?"

"I–" You could lie. You could. Or play it off. But you just sort of giggle as he passes the bottle back to you to sip from again. "...yeah. At least, in America they do."

"Maybe I should get a dog." He thinks with a grin. "They have such loving little faces and always love you."

"You should do what makes you happy." It's good advice that you can never seem to follow for yourself, but he absolutely deserves all the good things in the world.

"Do you have any pets?" He asks, feeling the car slow down and turn. He looks out the window and grins when he sees the iconic sign for the west coast fast food joint. 

"The cat in the phone call?" You grin at the excited look on his face. "She's mine. Pyewacket...like the cat from Bell, Book, and Candle."

"Ohhhh, she was pretty." He nods, grinning. "Sleek looking, have you had her long?"

"She's two now and I've had her since she was twelve weeks old." That beautiful black cat is your favourite roommate and only child, and you love having her. "Someday maybe I'll get her a puppy sibling. But the apartment I live in is a little too small for that right now."

"Mr. G." The driver clears his throat. "We are nearing the window. "What would you and your guest like to eat?" He asks politely.

The two of you collaborate on an order in the backseat just in time for the driver to order at the speaker, and only a few minutes later you have a bag between you and Javi's craving for American Coke is being fulfilled. "Should have enough of a drive to enjoy your snack before we get there," the driver tells you, fully amused before he puts up the separator again.

"I'm so excited." Javi confesses, even as he starts opening napkins to start draping over your lap to protect your dress. "I have heard so many good things about this and have not had time to try it before now."

"Are you that busy getting ready for your tour?" It must be an immense amount of work, but you don't really have any bearing on what goes into it. Not really.

"Rehearsals are normally fifteen hour days." He admits with a rueful grin. "Another reason I have been looking forward to the Grammys. It's a break."

"Fifteen?" That sounds like torture, and you immediately offer him some French fries like an apology. "Please tell me you have all kinds of people whose literal job it is to take care of you, because that's insane."

"Jack makes sure that I am well rested." He assures you, smiling at how thoughtful you are to worry about him. "It will get better. Hard work now to insure that the tour is perfect."

"It will be perfect." Of that you have no doubt. He's an amazing performer with incredible talent and dedication. "And I'm glad you have someone to look out for you. I know...people always say that being famous is lonely, and you're too sweet for that."

"It– it can be lonely." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching for his Coke to take a sip of it. "I do not have many friends." He shouldn't admit this to you. Opening up too much, you could tell people even though there is a NDA that protects him.

"Well that's shitty." Turning to face him completely in the back of the car, you decide that the frown on his face is completely unacceptable and you shake your head. "You have one more. If you want to, I mean. You want to talk to somebody, or vent about your day, or whatever, you just drop me a line, okay? And if you ever want to see the lamest town in New Jersey sometime, I'll take you to the broken-down amusement park for the probably-unsafe rides and rigged carnival games."

"Really?" He asks, surprised by the offer. People often want to be close to him, to get things from him, but it's never an offer to just listen. "That is– that is very nice of you." He chokes out, emotional from the gesture.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." In a moment that might qualify as juvenile if it didn't feel so honest and pure, you stick out your pinky finger to him and grin. "Pinky promise. Jack has my number and my email, but I'll give it all to you at brunch tomorrow if you really want it. Friends shouldn't be hard to come by for somebody as nice as you are."

His grin lights up his face and he eagerly hooks his finger around yours. "I know it seems silly to not have friends." He admits. "My family kept me isolated. Practicing to become famous was more important than friends."

"My family put pressure on me in other ways. And I know I don't have any kind of demanding career like you do, but I get it. When they decide they know what's best for you they never let go." Squeezing his finger gently in yours, the two of you are back to your snack in no time. "I do shifts in my sister's flower shop to keep them quiet. The whole family are all florists except me."

"Florists?" His brows shoot up and he hums. "They create beauty and they can't understand why it doesn't fulfill you."

"I am...not very artistic," you admit, picking up another French fry. It's official. In & Out is amazing. "I can appreciate beauty, and music, and art, and theater, and all of it. But I'm not good at making it myself. So sometimes I run the cash register for my sister on busy days or help with shipments. But arrangements? Esme and Kate do all that."

"There is nothing wrong with that." He shoves some fries into his mouth and follows it up immediately with a sip of Coke, moaning at the taste of it combined. "You have to have a sip of Coke with your fries."

It's not exotic for you at all, but he is so excited that you lean over and accept a sip of Coke without a second thought. There really is something so fantastically satisfying about simple, greasy fast food while you're all dressed up that is so much fun. "So are you right back to rehearsals tomorrow after brunch, or do you still have time to relax?"

"I will start back rehearsals next week." He tells you with a grin. "The last week before the tour starts. They don't want me to be too tired at the start of the tour." One more week of practice and then the last week before the kickoff will be spent relaxing. 

"So you have time to relax and enjoy yourself." That makes you nod with authority you definitely don't have. "Good. You should do things with your time that make you happy. Collect lots of memories. You never know where inspiration can strike, right?"

"I am hoping to." He smiles although there is a hint of secrecy in the curve of his lips as he says it. "There are a lot of things that I wish to experience. Especially if I am going to make the move to America permanent."

"Are you?" That rumor hasn't even hit the most in the know members of the fandom as far as you can tell, and you make the motion of an ‘x’ over your chest. "I signed the NDA, Javi. I won't say a word, I swear. But that's so exciting!"

He flushes again, realizing he has misspoken and yet with your hand reaching out to take his, he relaxes slightly. "I shouldn't have said that, but I'm glad someone knows." He admits, knowing that only his people, Jack, know of his plans.

“And hey.” You squeeze his hand gently, a moron he seems to find reassuring. “Even if I hadn’t signed it? We’re friends now. Friends get excited and keep secrets for each other. It’s part of the deal.”

"Thank you." The last few fries are gone quickly and he carefully starts to wipe his fingers free of salt and grease before he checks his suit for any dropped grains.

“Here.” There’s just a few specks of salt on his lapel but you lift them off in the curve of one of the fake nails that the manicurist at the salon gave you earlier today. “There.” There is no stain or mark left behind. No one would ever know you’ve been naughty. “Perfect.”

“Thank you.” He smiles, reaching up to brush a fry crumb from the corner of your lip. “You still look beautiful. And that was delicious.”

“I should check my lipstick, since it’s the one thing the stylists sent with me.” Having him call you beautiful makes you shy. You’re just a normal girl from a normal little town. Not someone Javi G should be calling beautiful.

“Yes.” Javi nods seriously and picks up your purse to hand you, “I will hold anything you need.”

The ride took less time than you thought, and you’re putting away your lipstick and mirror as the car enters the line to deposit you and Javi on the red carpet. “Don’t be nervous,” you encourage, taking his hand briefly. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it.”

"It is show time." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. Clinging to your hand when you try to pull it away and flashes you an apologetic grin when the moment passes. "Sorry." He hums.

“Sorry.” You instinctively apologize at the same time, and the two of you end up feeling silly but thankfully not too awkward. “If you need to grab my hand on the carpet, go for it,” you tell him, right before the car door opens. You’re not going to be mad if there is a picture out there in the world of him sweetly holding onto you for support. Just a nice man being nice to his fan.

Javi slides out of the SUV, adopting a charming smile and lifting an arm and waving to the first wave of fans and photographers, buttoning his jacket and turning to help you out of the car. While there are porters to help guests out of the cars but he wants to do it himself. Flashing you a smile as he reaches for your hand.

What you see on tv is so different from what is happening the second that Javi helps you out of the car. It’s so much louder than you expected and with so many more people everywhere. Red carpet interviews and photos give you the impression that things are all very organized and to some degree they are, but there are far more people milling about than you ever would have guessed. The two of you are ferried into a sort of arrivals line - as you make it down the carpet there will be certain places to stop for photo ops and for interviews, and there are handlers to make sure that you go where you need to. But the sheer scale of the event is so much greater than you had ever thought watching it from home.

"Here we go." Javi murmurs under his breath as he smiles and starts to wave again. It's big and loud and reminds him of stadium tours while he was in Europe. You are new to this and he keeps your hand curled around his and when he drops his hand down, he pats your hand and looks at you. "Are you okay?"

“I’m great,” you admit, thoroughly surprising both of you. The whole thing is massively exciting and you’re just soaking it up. “How are you doing? Nerves okay?”

Surprisingly good. He is normally way more nervous about things like this but you are calming him down with your down to earth friendliness and happiness. "I'm good." He insists with a smile, leaning in and kissing your cheek before his hand drifts up to touch his necklace again.

The crowd apparently loves this moment, fans nearby cheering loudly to see something so sweet in front of them. “They’re loving every second of you,” you promise him, grinning from ear to ear.

He smiles shyly, biting his lip as he looks at you soulfully. "I should have asked if that was okay." He murmurs, hoping you didn't mind it too bad.

“More than okay.” Hell, for all you care the guy can stick his tongue down your throat in the middle of the red carpet. Fuck…that’s a thought that is going to fester…

He smiles and nods, kissing your cheek again and this time he doesn't flush when he pulls back. The permission gives him confidence and he sends you a small wink before an event coordinator comes over to guide you down the carpet.

For the first real time tonight, that sheet of paper you signed concerning the possibility of sex pops back into your mind. Not because a kiss on the cheek is inherently sexual but because the nearness of him is so intoxicating.

The first few stops fly by. Charming and vivacious, Javi manages to win them over with a smile and his enthusiastic love of everything American and the joy of being here. He displays you just as much as he can, gushing over how he is enjoying being here with you and pushing you to talk as well.

The first reporter to not know anything about the contest is the first one to ask him to introduce his girlfriend to the world. He looks eager to hear all about it, thinking he might be getting a scoop, but despite the hand holding you both shake your head politely.

"She is my date." Javi clarifies, leaning in. "But she is beautiful, no?" He asks, looking back at you. "Won a contest and inspired the next song. I swear."

“I’ll be very excited to hear that song when it comes out.” He surely doesn’t mean it, but it’s still a nice thought to have. “I’m honestly just having the best time in the world.”

"We are planning to make sure we enjoy everything." Javi beams, happy you are enjoying yourself and he hopes that you mean that. You are inspiring his next song. He's already come up with the hook in his head and actually cannot wait to jot it down.

“What kind of everything are you enjoying?” Disappointed to not have unearthed gossip, the reporter digs for more. You’re clearly smitten, even if you are just a fan.

“The show, the parties after.” Javi flashes you a grin. “Tomorrow, we will nurse our hangovers with a delicious west coast brunch.”

“You’ll never want to leave LA after this.” The man chuckles to you, and you can’t shrug or risk looking weird. 

“I already don’t want to leave,” you admit with a blinding smile. This moment is supposed to be for you and yet all you want to do is make it good for Javi. He chuckles and the two of you move down to the next reporter. Smiling as he grips your hand tightly. “He wanted us to give something away so badly,” you grin guiltily.

“He did. Secret relationships are always titillating.” Javi hums, reaching up and touching his necklace again to calm himself.

“Too bad for them.” Still holding his hand, You flash him the same smile that you had the reporter to hopefully reassure him. “Everything’s going great.”

“Let me know if that changes.” He asks softly, wanting you to enjoy this entire experience. “Although they are going to be jealous of me standing beside someone as beautiful as you are.”

"When you write your song, put that in the lyrics," you tease affectionately. "It will be my favorite forever."

“I will.” Javi nods seriously. “The hook is already written. ‘No star shines as bright as your smile’” He sings softly.

"I—I thought you were just...saying that." The flash of a camera isn't as dramatic as a wasted bulb anymore, but there is now one photographer in the world with an picture of you looking at Javi with soft astonishment written all over your expressive face. "It's...it's beautiful," you murmur back, feeling your cheeks heat up so much you might become your own sun.

“You are beautiful.” Javi counters, unraveling your hand from his arm to kiss the back of it. “Inspiration struck, thanks to you.”

******

If he was enjoying himself before the awards, Javi is ecstatic afterward and you are powerless but to roll along with his excitement at the afterparty. His award for Best Global Performance will be delivered to his LA residence and the adrenaline from his win might never wear off. Happiness looks so well on him, though, and he's all but glowing when you walk into the party together.

"I can't believe I won!" He gushes for about the five thousandth time. It's incredible and he's nearly overwhelmed with how many people, famous artists, came up to congratulate him. "Can you believe that I won?"

"I absolutely can," you assure him just like every time before. He's a brilliant entertainer and it isn't the first award he's ever won, but his desire to break America means that winning a Grammy holds enormous importance for him. "You more than deserve it."

"Is that..." His eyes widen and he cranes his neck over the crowd and then ducks down and around The Weeknd to see better. "Is that Gloria Estefan?" He asks in a near reverent whisper. "Oh my god, it is." He hisses, looking back at you almost panicked. "It's Gloria Estefan!"

"You should say hello." He is very near to a kid in a candy store at this party, and while you are just sort of absorbing the glitz, glimmering chaos around the top of you, he has transformed into a fanboy. It's actually reassuring to see – the way he is acting on the outside is very much how you felt on the inside when he walked into your suite tonight.

"No!" He shakes his head and straightens up, looking back at you like you had suggested he spit in her drink. "I could not possibly. She is...she is iconic. I cannot bother her."

"Did it bother you to meet me?" The question is posed as entirely theoretical, and the hint of a smile on your lips tells him you aren't judging him in the least. "Having someone who admires you tell you that you mean something to them is wonderful, Javi. Don't be afraid."

Javi shakes his head, still too starstruck and he looks back at you, “Maybe after a drink, sí?” He asks, raising his brows at you.

"Well, let's get you a drink, then." There are waiters passing by with trays in every direction and a full bar against the far wall, so getting him whatever drink he wants will not be a problem whatsoever.

“How do you feel? Are you still having fun?” He asks, wanting to make sure that he’s not boring you or you wish you were back in your suite.

"The answer to that will always be yes," you promise him. The two of you have gotten used to walking hand in hand tonight, and now it is natural to put your hand in his as you walk to the bar. "What are we drinking to celebrate your victory?"

“Tell me your favorite drink.” He begs, turning those puppy dog eyes as you call them on you and smiles.

"Usually just wine," you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. "Sparkling or even sangria if there's a party. "But I am absolutely open to trying anything." A rule which goes for more than just cocktails, but he doesn't really need to know that.

“Should we try some of the signature cocktails?” He asks, pointing to the placard with a list of yummy sounding drinks. “Jack should be here soon.”

“Absolutely.” The only way to survive winning this contest has been to go with the flow, so you’re just going to roll with that a while longer. People are already starting to drink and dance, catching snacks from passing trays of hors d’oeuvres or from the long buffet of sumptuous offerings along the wall adjacent to the bar. Tables for chatting and resting sit ready but most people seem ready to party. At the bar, a half dozen specialty cocktails are listed with cheeky names and full descriptions. Some are fruity, some are smokey, some sound downright dangerous. It’s all a matter of taste.

"Award Winning Whiskey Sour." Javi decides, looking at the menu. "I think I will start with that." He looks over at you and waits for your decision.

“The Sweet Victory Raspberry Limoncello Cooler sounds like my speed,” you decide with a grin. An open bar with a reason to celebrate always means trying something wonderful.

"Then that's what you will have." He winks at you and darts off to grab the drinks. It doesn't matter that he is the award winner, he is going to treat you like the star since you are with him.

“Javi!” There is a crowd forming and you end up losing the fast-moving Spaniard in the thick of it, but you just laugh and hang back. You’ll stay where you are and he will find you again. In the meantime, this party is incredible and a few covert pictures won’t hurt anything.

At the bar, Javi orders the drinks, smiling at the bartender and he reaches up to touch his necklace as he looks around the crowd, searching for a Stetson.

“Lookin’ for somebody?” Jack’s voice comes from behind his left shoulder, the warm smirk of amusement evident in his honeyed tone.

"Jack!" Javi lights up again, delighted to see him and he lunges forward to hug his agent. "Can you believe I won?" He knows that Jack had kept tabs on the awards ceremony, even if he had been working while he was watching so he could attend the party.

"Of course I can believe it." He had no doubts about it, but he's glad to see Javi happy. Jack pats his star on the back and looks around before raising an eyebrow at Javi. "Where'd our girl get off to? Run away to powder her nose?"

"I left her..." Javi bites his lip and looks around the crowd before he spots you. "Just there." The bartender brings over the drinks and Javi shoves a generous bill into the man's hands. "Can we also get a glass of whiskey?" He asks, nodding towards Jack. "For my friend."

"Enjoying your night?" Jack asks him, honestly wondering if the sweet shows of companionship he saw during the broadcast were real or if Javi was learning how to charm Americans along with everyone else in the world.

"She is wonderful." Javi confides with a small grin, leaning in closely. "Just like you said she would be. I like her, rey. I really like her."

"I thought you would." That news pleases Jack, who presses a bill into the bartender's hand when he comes back with his whiskey. "She signed on the dotted line, ya know," he reminds Javi under his breath. "Could be a well-deserved way to celebrate."

"Does she know?" Javi asks under his breath, reaching up and touching his necklace again. "What that entails?"

"Not yet." Jack shakes his head and picks up his drink, holding it to his lips a moment and considering the next course of action before he drinks. "If you'd like to tell her, we can. But I'd say let's see how she dances before we go invitin' her to the rodeo."

"No." Jack's idea makes sense and Javi nods. "I want to see her dance. Plus I need to deliver her drink."

"Then lead the way, zorro," Jack murmurs quietly, a smirk gracing his lips.

Javi smiles as he moves through the crowd of people, nodding and slightly awestruck by some of the people who greet him by name. He doesn't stop, eager to get back to you with the drinks and with Jack.

You get one more discreet picture in on your phone before you see Javi reappear with a distinct Stetson-wearing mustachioed cowboy behind him, and you quickly pull up your text messages to fire one off to Esme to cover up the fact that you were being an absolute fangirl for the five minutes he was gone.

"Jack is here." Javi rushes out with a happy smile on his face as if the man's presence behind him isn't announcement enough.

Murmured thanks to Javi for delivering your drink come with a broad smile, and you are right back to beaming when you turn to Jack. "You must be very proud tonight."

"Pleased as punch, darlin'." Jack hums, sending you a small wink. "Only a few things that I can think of that would make me happier and it wouldn't be polite to speak about that in public." He winks again and takes a sip of his whiskey.

When your smile turns shy it seems to please the cowboy even further, and you take a sip of your drink with a happy hum before looking back to Javi. Not that Jack isn't damn fun to look at, but it's Javi's night. "What are you thinking, Javi? Grab something to eat? Get on the dance floor?"

"Dancing." Javi sneaks a look over at Jack before back to you. "I wish to see how you move." He smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey sour and biting his lip.

Well damn. Get a couple of drinks and an award win into Javi Gutierrez and suddenly he's all but purring at you in front of his agent. While a prouder woman might have played it off or demurred, you have reached a point in the night where not caring anymore is a virtue. There are no paparazzi inside this party. No fans to speak of other than you or a few other lucky guests. So Jack is here? Fuck it. Jack's a flirt, too. "Well, come on, then," you toss him a grin after taking a long drink of your cocktail. "I'm sure Jack won't mind guarding our drinks for a few minutes."

Jack chuckles and takes your drink from you, making sure that his fingers linger over yours and he practically coos at you. "Enjoy yourself now, darlin'." He encourages, grinning at you like he's the cat that is edging closer to the canary.

"I'll try to keep up," you tease Javi as he leads you out onto the dance floor. Considering how many of his performances you've seen on television, you know how well he can move. It really will be trying to keep up with a pro tonight.

Jack watches with interest as Javi pulls you into his arms and starts to move. It's obvious that you are infatuated with Javi and he doesn't blame you. It's a part of his charm, his ability to draw people in.

The song has a beat to move to, thank god – something hip hop and Latinx that makes for fantastic party music at the beginning of a night. There are no speeches here, no cameras to pose for, only people enjoying themselves, so that is exactly what you decide to do when you put both arms around Javi's neck. When are you ever going to get a chance like this again in your life? Never is when, so you're damn well going to enjoy every second of it for everything it's worth.

Javi laughs breathlessly as he twirls you around and dips you. Happy that your dress allows for you to move so easily. He wouldn't have been able to dance with you like this if you had worn the red dress. And it would be a shame to not get to press his body to yours like this.

"I think we picked the right dress," you laugh breathlessly, obviously having the same thought as him at this moment. This fairy tale - your fairy tale - keeps getting better and better at every turn.

"Depends on how it looks on the floor." Javi teases, pulling you closer and flashing you a grin.

"I–" The shock on your face is abundantly evident. For all the teasing, or flirtatiousness, or even the fleeting sweet moments you've shared tonight? Neither of you has been as bold as to make that kind of comment or make any intentions known. On your end it seemed utterly ridiculous to even think he would be interested, assuming his gestures to simply be those of a sweet man with good manners. But maybe it is actually more than that? "Now that is a very interesting question," you admit, lips curling up into a grin.

"Sí?" He asks, eyes widening slightly in shock as if he is surprised that the line actually worked. Jack's presence has given him confidence that he normally does not possess or represses because of his poor self esteem, but the grin on your face captivates him. "You would like to find out? With me?"

Thinking about it for a second, you end up surprising yourself and laugh a little right out loud. "You know..." you shake your head in amusement. "I was really about to say that I was only serious if you were actually interested in me for me and not in some wish fulfillment thing about fucking a fan. But honestly? I don't really care what the motivation is. I'm one hundred percent on board. We'll dance, we'll drink, we'll go back to the hotel and have a night. Why the hell not?"

If you had told him that he was the world wide star, top of the charts for all the countries, he couldn't have looked any happier about your agreement. "Yes!" He crows happily and pulls you even closer to kiss your cheek. Since you are in public, he would not cause a scene.

He is nearly crushing you to him as he revels in your agreement, and you have to admit - this whole contest, this trip, this night, all of it - it's so surreal that why shouldn't it include sleeping with an internationally known musician that you've had a crush on for literal years? That's completely tracks with the tone of the whole thing. Esme and Kate are never going to believe half of what actually happened even before this.

When the song ends, Javi pulls away and he searches your eyes. "Do you want to stay?" He asks. "Or do you want to go?"

"Jack won't be upset if we don't stay longer?" After all, you had really only been here for what feels like a few minutes. Perhaps it was as long as a whole half hour, who knows. And Jack seems like a man who prefers to do things 'right'.

"Why don't we see what he wants to do?" Javi asks, taking your hand and leading you off the dance floor. "I need my drink anyway!"

There is definitely something you're missing here, unless Javi is about to ask his agent's permission to take you back to the hotel, but since you're already decided to just roll with it you let him drag you back to the table where Jack is waiting and gratefully accept your drink from the tall, dark, and handsome Southerner when he offers it back to you.

Javi is nearly bouncing on his toes with anticipation, grinning as he takes his drink from Jack and tosses it back quickly. “I would like to go back to the house, rey.” He tells Jack before he turns to you. “Unless you would be more comfortable in your hotel room, of course.”

"It's where my stuff is," you point out needlessly. "But nobody ever died because they were embarrassed about a walk of shame."

“There’s no shame in that walk, darlin’.” Jack smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Maybe a little hitch in your step dependin’ on how hard you’ve been ridden is all.”

"Traditionally is it not the lady who does the riding?" Throwing caution to the wind, you have another sip of your drink and tilt your head at Jack. "What's the song? Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy?"

“Oh you are perfect, darlin’.” He chuckles, leaning in and chucking your chin with his fingers. “How’d you like to find out?”

For a second you freeze, not sure that you've understood him correctly, and you look between the two men to find Javi looking just on the edge of nervousness and Jack smirking confidently. Well that's a surprise... But really, is it a bad one? Hell no. Cowboy Burt Reynolds is a look you didn't know you were into until a month ago when Jack Daniel's showed up at your apartment, and you're just going to throw up your hands and go with the flow. "Ya know what?" You toss back the end of your drink, enjoying the way the bubbles go straight to your head - you're making the decision with a clear head but you might be a little floaty by the time you get back to wherever you're going if you have another. "Sure. Let's go find out."

“Really?” Javi’s eyes widen happily and he reaches for your hand, “You know he is talking about…” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Both of us, sí?”

"I understood that part," you promise him, squeezing his hand just as you have every other time that he has been nervous tonight. "And I've got no clue why you're asking, or why you're asking me, but since I'm never going to get an offer like this again?" You shrug again and end up laughing a little. "Let's go."

“You will not regret it.” He promises you, turning and beaming at Jack. “I want you to know that you have the most exquisite taste, rey.” He hums. “I feel relaxed already.”

"Okay." Setting your glass down on the table beside you and picking up your evening bag instead, you look between them curiously. "I thought your name was Jack?" You ask quietly. "Not Ray?"

Javi flushes and he ducks his head in embarrassment, reaching up and touching his necklace. Jack chuckles and decides to answer for him. He sets down his whiskey after he drains it. “Not ‘Ray’ like ‘Howdy my name’s Ray’.” He explains. “‘Rey’.” He exaggerates the punctuations slightly. “My little zorro named me his king the first night he skipped a step or ten on his own walk of shame.” 

"Zorro?" As far as you know, that's just a guy in a mask with a sword running around Mexico in the movies, but clearly it means something different. Whatever it means, though, one thing seems to be growing clearer: Jack is much more than just Javi's agent.

“Fox.” Jack smirks, reaching out to run his finger down Javi’s smooth jaw with tender affection. “He’s my sexy fox, isn’t he?” He asks, looking up at you. “Or foxy?”

The absolute hard right into unbelievable that an already crazy night has taken makes your whole body feel like it's been instantly set on fire and like your system has been flooded with instant arousal all at once. Jack is his dom...that makes so much sense... "He's been very good tonight," you tell Jack, humming a little to see how Javi lights up at the praise. "He should definitely be rewarded for it."

“That’s good.” Jack coos, smirk growing wider when he sees that you understand the dynamic and are either intrigued or approving. “I bet his cock is aching for some attention, isn’t it, zorro?”

"Por favor, mi rey," Javi turns his wide eyes on Jack, the very same ones he has used on you multiple times tonight. The party is so raucous all around you that barely anyone has even noticed you, and the three of you seem to have entered your own little world anyway.

“Now that you know this…” Jack turns his dark gaze on you. “Are you still willing to go home with us? The agreement doesn’t cover me. But a good old fashioned verbal consent will do.”

"I thought it was a little weird when that page was in with the others, but...anything can happen in the world, right?" You smirk at Jack, feeling far bolder than you ever thought you could. "Now I see you were just being thorough for your man. That's very considerate, Jack. And...I think that deserves a reward, too."

Jack arches a brow and a slow smirk rides across his face. “What kind of reward are we talkin’ about, darlin’?” He asks, interested in see what you think is a reward.

Cheeks on fire, your eyes slide away for a second to compose yourself so you can look back at him. "I was really hoping you'd just be impressed that I was being cheeky and I'd have the car ride to think up something creative," you admit sheepishly. "Called my bluff."

He tosses his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh that rolls through his body. Javi squirms slightly, his own grin on his face and Jack finally looks back at you with pure admiration in his expression. “Good for you, darlin’.” He chortles, reaching out and pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear. “Might have to spank you for that, but only if you want me to.”

There’s no way he can know that he’s offering you something that you very much enjoy, but he’ll most likely be able to figure it out by the way you reflexively shiver a little at the suggestion. “We should get going,” you tell them most, nodding with as much authority as you can. “Sounds like our own party is going to be far more fun.”

“Oh it will be, darlin’.” Javi whimpers in agreement with Jack and he takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You don't seem surprised.” He murmurs as Jack guides you both towards the exit.

"I decided about ten minutes ago to just throw up my hands tonight and go with the flow, so I'm just leaving all of my confusion and surprise for tomorrow when I think about what happened." You lace your fingers through Javi's and offer him a smile. "I basically have decided that all of this is just an amazing dream and so anything can happen."

"That is a good way to look at things." Jack hums, his hand sliding to your back as he leans close. "I thought I was dreaming the first time Javi begged to suck my cock, now I hope to never wake up." He teases. "Why don't we go see what kind of fevered dream we can cook up for you?"

______

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My Masterlist!

[planetpiastri]

“permission to lean in?” “permission granted.” w rooster cos that sounds just dorky enuf for him 💘

ruby i really leaned into the dorky here i hope it shows<33 i hope u like this even tho u don't go here hehe | [wc - 1.2k] | join my prompt party!

“And so I was like, oh, shit, they are definitely into me. This is your moment, Bradshaw! Don’t fuck it up!” Rooster said, dropping his vocal register to represent his inner monologue as he recounted the story of his most recent failed date. “So I looked them in the eyes—gave ‘em the look, you know—and I asked if I could kiss them, and they said—get this—they said, Well, I wanted you to until you asked.”

You couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that burst out of you. “Are you kidding?”

“I wish!” he exploded, gesticulating wildly. 

“So what did you do then?” you asked.

“I didn’t know what to do!” he said. “I think I said something super intelligent like, Oh, okay, and then we stood there awkwardly for a second and they were like, Okay, I’m gonna go in now, and I said, Okay, and then they just…left.”

You pressed your hand to your lips to stifle your giggles. “Is it safe to assume that they haven’t called you back?”

“Yes, y/n,” said Rooster flatly, turning and fixing you with a dull stare. “They obviously haven’t called me back.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your stifled giggles descending into embarrassing snorts. You stopped on the sidewalk, one hand covering your mouth and one clutching your knee as you bent at the waist, trying to recover from your fit of the giggles.

“Okay, okay,” said Rooster. You could tell by his tone that he was also fighting back a laugh. “Get it all out now.”

Your friendship with Rooster was a delightfully unexpected bonus of moving into your new apartment. He rented the room across the hall, and you’d met him on your very first day, when he graciously offered to help you carry some boxes up the stairs since the elevator was broken. After you’d moved in, he’d offered to take you for a walk down by the waterfront and show you around your new area. Pretty soon after that, nightly walks by the reservoir had become your new normal. 

Conversation came easily with you and Rooster, in no small part because of his endless catalog of dating fiasco stories. It seemed like every single week he had a new story about how some date of his had ended with a crying waiter, red wine on a white dress, or a decidedly unsexy scraped knee. You’d never met someone with such a talent for being bad at dating.

This new story really took the cake, though.

“I’m sorry,” you said, finally catching your breath and leaning against the fence looking over the water below. “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“I would have been offended if you hadn’t,” said Rooster, which just made you laugh again. He stood next to you, just close enough that your shoulders would occasionally brush, and loosely laced his fingers together, draping his forearms across the railing. He sighed. “Is it me? Am I losing it? I used to be good at this.”

“It’s not you,” you said sincerely. “Honestly, if someone thinks asking for consent ‘ruins the mood’ or whatever…that’s a red flag.”

“That’s what I thought!” he blurted. “I think it’s kind of hot if someone asks before they kiss you.”

“Me too,” you agreed, determinedly not looking at him when you said it. The day Rooster realized that you were silently wishing that you’d be the one he asked out on a disastrous date was the day you’d probably move to a different state.

It was quiet for a moment, and you began to feel nervous, worrying that you’d said the wrong thing. But then Rooster asked, “How do you usually do it?”

“Wh-what?” you asked, turning to look at him in alarm.

He winced. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be weird. I’m trying to gather information. You know? You don’t have to answer, that’s awkward.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said quickly, choosing to focus on the starlight dancing on the water instead of the warmth of Rooster’s shoulder pressing against you. “I mean…it’s been a while, I won’t lie. But usually I wait for some kind of signal—like the look you mentioned. Then, if I’m feeling bold, I go for the ol’ lean-in. Kind of like asking without asking, you know?” Your cheeks grew warm. “This one time, I was feeling really confident, and I just said, I really want to kiss you.”

“Whoa,” said Rooster. “How’d that go?”

“It worked.”

“Yeah, I bet. That’s hot.”

“Um. Thanks.”

“Oh—shit, I didn’t mean to—sorry, that was weird. I shouldn’t have said that.” Rooster took half a step away from you, and you immediately missed his warmth.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, hoping he couldn’t hear how your heart was racing. “I don’t mind. Really.” You sucked in a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you were about to say. “The main line is, asking permission is cool. It’s hot. It is sexy. So you shouldn’t think it’s a problem on your side. Just…keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll find the right person.”

“Hm,” said Rooster, but that was it. He stepped back next to you, and when you glanced over, he was staring at your face with a furrowed brow, like he was thinking really hard. That scared you a little. Had you said the wrong thing? Had you given yourself away? Shit, you totally had. You’d totally just blown this whole thing.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Oh, god. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away from him. “O-of course.”

His mustache twitched as the corner of his mouth pulled into half a cheeky smile. “Would you count this as a date?”

All the breath left your lungs like you’d just been punched in the gut. “What?” 

He blinked, his smile dropping. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I definitely shouldn’t have said that. That was so stupid of me. I—”

Before he could pull away again, you grabbed his sleeve, holding him in place. Your stare was frighteningly intense as you demanded, “Would you count this as a date, Rooster?”

“Maybe,” he squeaked out.

“Oh, my god,” you gasped, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I’m an idiot. I’m a moron. This is totally a date, isn't it? Oh, my god.”

“I just ruined this, didn’t I?” he asked, sounding tired. His head sagged on his neck, his broad shoulders deflating.

You grabbed his sleeve again, your grip insistent. “Bradley,” you said sternly, “you didn’t ruin anything. I thought—I thought—I don’t know what I thought.” You paused and then asked softly, “You like me?”

He stared at you then, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Of course I like you,” he breathed.

"Oh," you whispered. "That's nice."

This time when his mouth stretched into a crooked smile, you weren’t as scared. He squared his shoulders, turning to face you fully. His voice was husky and thick with amusement when he asked, “Permission to lean in?”

The laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Your fingers loosened in his sleeve, resting gently on his bicep. “Permission granted,” you answered.

As the lights twinkled over the water and Bradley Bradshaw stooped to kiss you for the first time, you’d never felt stupider. But you also couldn’t think of a time when you’d felt happier.

[acewritesfics]

Pal-entine's Day | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Platonic!Female Reader

Request: From anon for last years Valentines celebration. THIS IS A REPOST FROM @/DLMLUFICS.

Prompts: friend valentines, being stood up and surprise. 

Warnings: fluff. “Friendly” kiss between friends. Platonic relationship.

Word Count: 1,089

Jay Halstead Masterlist

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

It's almost 10 o’clock at night and Y/N is laying on her couch, watching some sappy romance movie with a tub of her favorite flavored ice cream cradled against her chest. Just as she stabs the spoon into the ice cream to scoop out some more a loud knocking comes from her front door.   

“Go away,” she mumbles putting no effort into making the person go away. But as the knocking gets more incessant, she sighs sitting up and slams her ice cream on the coffee table. She drags her feet to the front door, opening it and is pleasantly surprised to see her best friend and work partner, Detective Jay Halstead, standing there. She hides her surprise and sadness behind a teasing smirk. “Your date didn’t want to take it back to her place?”  

“There was no date,” he tells her, pushing past her to go inside.   

She only just notices the stuff in his hands after she closes and locks the door behind him and follows him into the living area.  

“Did you get stood up or something?”   

“Nope,” he says, placing the 6 pack of beer, some welted flowers, and bags of food on the kitchen counter of the open plan space. After shrugging off his coat, he hangs it over one of the dining table chairs.  

“What’s all this?” she asks confused and still a little surprised.   

“I didn’t actually have a date tonight,” he admits. “I was going to spend the night at home, watching hockey with beer and pizza but then you texted me saying that jackass stood you up. So, here I am being the bestest friend ever.”  

“You didn’t have to do this,” pouting, she fights the urge to cry. She truly did have the bestest best friend in the world.   

Y/N was asked on a date by one of the patrol officers at the 21st. This guy she has been flirting with and waiting for him to ask her on a date for a few months now. So, when he came up to her a couple of weeks ago, asking her if she would like to have dinner with him on Valentine’s Day, she told him she would love to.   

Tonight, he was supposed to meet her at one of the slightly fancier restaurants along the waterfront. When he didn’t show up an hour after their reservation was made for, feeling hurt and embarrassed, she paid for the couple drinks that she drank and left the restaurant so another couple could use the table.   

As she sat in her car in front of the restaurant, needing a moment to compose herself, she texted Jay telling him what happened. She didn’t expect a reply or a call until tomorrow, while hoping he was having better luck with his own date. What she didn’t expect was for him to show up at her doorstep with some of her favorite things.  

“These are for you, because everyone deserves flowers valentine's day,” he says picking up and holding out the flowers. “I may have stolen them from some restaurants outdoor table. Please don’t arrest me.”  

“Depends on what’s in those bags,” she smiles already feeling a lot better than she had been five minutes ago.   

Jay has always had the knack for making her feel better even when she wants nothing more than to wallow in her own misery. He would never let her do that alone.   

The two friends met when they went through the academy together. They dated for a couple of months but ultimately decided they’re better off friends and have remained that way since. After graduating, they were assigned to different districts but always found time for each other. Now they’ve been working intelligence together for 4 years which has come with many difficulties in their friendship but has also made it even stronger.  

“I know you well enough to know that the ice cream on the coffee table is all you’ve eaten tonight so I brought the best burgers and fries in town with me,” he holds up one of the bags, showing her the logo of her favorite fast-food place.  

She takes the bag from him and opens it, instantly inhaling the smell of her favorite burger. It smells so good her stomach begins to rumble giving away that he was indeed right about her having not eaten a proper meal.   

“I could kiss you right now.”  

“I wouldn’t stop you. It’ll be the most action both of us have gotten today,” he says setting the second bag of food on the table and opens it.   

Y/N walks over to him, taking his face in her hands and plants a soft peck to his lips. “Better?”  

“Much better, thank you,” he smiles and goes back to removing the food from the bags. “I love you; you know that right?”  

“I do. I love you too and I should be the one thanking you,” she says moving to hug him from behind, her hands against his stomach and her head resting on his back. “This is the best surprise I’ve ever gotten and it’s why you’ll always be my number one guy.”  

“I’ve got to make sure my number one woman feels loved and cared for, especially after some loser beat cop breaks her heart,” he says and turns around in her arms. He kisses her forehead as his arms wrap around her.   

“He didn’t break my heart,” she assures him. “I just feel stupid for wasting my time on a guy that I thought actually liked me back.”  

“You’re not stupid, he is,” Jay reminds her. “Now let’s eat cause I’m starving.”   

Y/N chuckles and lets him go. She sits down at the table, pulling the food out of the other bag. Jay sits to her right as they begin to eat. “Best Valentines ever.”  

“You mean Pal-entines,” Jay says as though he’s correcting her.  

“Did you learn a new word?” She teasingly questions him.  

“I had to look it up,” he shrugs. “There was also Galentine's, but I don’t have the anatomy for that,” he adds making her laugh.  

After eating, they move to the couch to finish watching the movie she’d started before he arrived. By the time the movie finished, Y/N had fallen asleep curled into Jay’s side as they laid down to get more comfortable.  

Instead of leaving, he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over them. He makes himself more comfortable, being careful not to wake Y/N. 

TAGGED: @mrspeacem1nusone - @halsteadbrasil - @allisonargent144 - @cs-please - @alexxavicry - @nicole-19s-world - @mimiteller712 - @qutequeersstuff

[not-so-lost-after-all]

Moments before the disaster

Astarion and Tav having supposedly the last chance to have some fun time together AKA the missing opportunity to go on a date.

Inspired this amazing piece by the talented @lirotation This is not your Amaara but I hope you don't mind ;)

Tagged: @spacebarbarianweird

***

His heart was lighter, she knew. It's been two tendays and something since he gloriously murdered Cazador, that prick who ruined his life, and they both were giddy. Amongst all the violence around, it was perhaps the only comforting thing, Esipre thought.

They both knew it's only question of time before he'll have to return to the shadows - if they survive at all - and they had an unspoken deal to make the most out of it.

They made love almost every night and sometimes it felt like her legs are shaped around his hips and her breasts were always sore. "He would make a fine consort if you're the type to be addicted to dick," Minthara raised her eyebrow and Esipre just shook her head and laughed.

She gave him her blood once, the most she could effort. As always it felt like falling into the cold water and then heatwave thanks to his touches. Her eyelids were already heavy when he kissed her and he tasted like smoke and brandy and the iron in her blood. She rolled her hips and sighed when he filled her up and then Astarion whispered something in elvish while brushing her chin and neck with his lips. Sometimes she woke up to him curled around her like a cat. One morning she watched the first rays of sun coming through the window and through the tip of his pointy ear before waking him up by kissing that ear.

The two of them were always the last to go to sleep and the first ones to get up, just shortly after sunrise.

But the time was almost up. Tomorrow or the day after that, she thought. Their merry band was well prepared and Esipre tried to keep their spirit high the best way she could. She was strangely calm about what they're about to do, she wasn't more sure about anything in her life.

When Astarion asked her about it, she shrugged. "Of course. But being afraid was never of any use to me. I'm done running."

"That's my girl," he grinned and nodded.

"Truth to be told, it was you who inspired me to not run away just because it's the easiest way."

He looked at her, bewildered. "Easy now, darling..."

Gods above, she loved all of him but it always made her heart flutter how precious he was whenever thrown out of his element.

"Anyway, this may be our last chance to have fun. Come with me?" Esipre smiled at him. She offered him her hand and Astarion immediately took it.

First thing first, she stole a bottle of red wine from a street vendor while laughing at his stupid jokes. Astarion was simply standing nearby, enjoying the show. "I could say I'm shocked about your criminal behaviour, you villain, but that would be a lie," her vampire rewarded her with a high pitched giggle. He stole two iron cups in a short few minutes...

The were walking along the waterfront and watched the last returning fishing boats.

They heard a scream from a dark alleyway and then a Sharran cultict running from that direction. She blasted him with a firebolt, then dramatically bowed like an illusionist when two temple guards were thanking her.

They were sitting in the shade of an apple tree in the park, with Astarion's head in her lap. The sun was already low in the sky, its light golden. They heard some female voices calling their kids for dinner. She wrinkled her nose as one of the buzzing bees briefly stopped in front of her. Esipre sipped a bit of the wine from the cup and laughed as Astarion was gossiping about Shadowheart. The moment was like the last day of summer, sweet and melancholic at the same time.

"What is it, darling?" Astarion noticed her unfocused eyes.

Esipre didn't want to ruin the mood but then decided to simply tell the truth. "I just wish to freeze this moment in time."

"I don't. I'm just happy there's something always changing in my life now, after two centuries of doing the same with the same outcome."

"And you can deal with anything, I'm aware of that." Astarion was the strongest person she knew but telling him that would make his ego the size of the moon. Though he wasn't so sure how well he's going to take the ending of his love affair with the sun because that surely won't come gently. But she left that unsaid.

Esipre caressed his collarbone with her finger. "You're still warm from the sun," she smiled.

There was a hint of something darker, painful in his ruby eyes but it almost instantly faded. Astarion then took her hand and kissed her wrist. "Just an illusion anyway. I can perform the same trick using't heat from the fire whenever you want to."

Esipre was a bit tipsy which always made her say things she would probably regret saying otherwise.

"Provided we'll survive. I... may not be some serial killer you can swoon over or a young girl who you'd have easier time to wrap around you finger..."

"Don't," he moved a finger across her jaw. "How many times do I need to tell you you're perfect everytime?"

She hapilly giggled. "...but I think we've still had a great time together. Just so you know." Becase you may not want to see me ever again if we survive tomorrow.

"Look," Esipre pointed at the last small part of the sun disappearing on the horizon with childlike wonder.

"I can only see you," Astarion continued watching her, now sitting next to her.

She turned to him, then they both closed their eyes. "Three. Two. One," she whispered to the last rays of the sun.

The kiss was teasing and playful and long like they have all the time in the world. "That choice was painful, you know that," he said when their foreheads touched. "It'll be even more. But for moments like this I wouldn't have it any other way."

[villainsimpqueen]

Eternal Bloodlines

Adriana tepes/ Alucard x Male Dhampire reader

This fanfic is for 18+ Audience's due to it containing gorey themes and later on smut.

Also available on A03

chapter 12

Blood dripped down the man's back, the stinging slap of thorny metal enwrapped in leather clashing on own back wasn't a sound he had expected. 

The last meeting was a shit show, while his younger companion he made during these so called war conciles was able to get one of the human generals to turn head towards her plans, this one had seemed diligent at staying loyal to the old man. Something he would have done willingly if the Old man had not declared death on his only son, one the woman he even bothered to create a war for tried so dedicatedly to give him after years of wrong borns much like his own little mother baring him a son like you. 

He attempted to approach the other human general to ease him into working with Camillas approach, He struck a nerve he hadn't seen being more vulnerable than the others, and as the thorny metal leather strap was ripping through his own flesh around his neck, Godbrand could feel every single moment of it. 

Red splattering away from him like a fountain he had once seen before long ago in a dinning hall, with a silhouette of his little mother dying in front of their son's eyes. 

He could feel a soft gentle hand on his chest making his eyes cast down to the silhouette, even in death her body was warm.

Her hand moved up his chest to his decapitating head as if lifting it and turning to make him see what she had seen at the moment of your conception. 

Blazing E/c eyes boring through the darkest shadows of the tower. Ever consuming the Red that sprayed from him.

Not a man.

Not a vampire.

but a beastly thing conjured up from hell, Escaped it, long before Dracula's little pets army. 

“I will give a son, and he will be stronger than any man of your bloodline.” 

A statement that he took as some promising threat that he now realized was a deadly curse that left his little mothers lips, before she begged him to conjure a spawn of death like you. 

He was correct in picking his name for you, even if he had little doubts about it before, seeing the visions the ghost of your mother was showing him was proof enough. 

He could hear the human, Issac grunting as he tore the leather strapping through his neck, as he was fixated over the very red fountain pouring from his neck, his gurgling starting to cease as laughter started to leave his dying lips.

“Why do you laugh?” The human man spoke, human, the thing that would kill him was a human, the irony of it all as he felt the ghostly hands of your mother on his breastplate. 

Mother killed by a vampire.

Father slain by a human. 

“You'll die in a room filled with blood.” He laughed as he focused in more of the silhouette of your mothers figure,

“What makes you so sure?” Ah the tone of slight arrogance, he knew it well, the strap only tighten snapping through bone

“He was reborn in blood.” 

“Who?”

“Antiphonus.” 

His head went rolling, his body fading soon after leaving nothing but clothing behind to be discarded. 

Yet A small delicate hand in his own pulling him away, He did not question what or where the ghost of your mother was leading him. 

He owed it to her to follow, and shall she take him in vengeance as a pet then she had earned that right and yet she took him to you.

slumbering the day hours away on horseback. Chatter of two humans, and the mad king's son in a mere carriage away. 

He only watched as he felt his and her soul fade away. A final goodbye to the child they both brought into the world, and the curse of  monsters, The Man they leave behind. 

The meeting went well, all according to her plans and by the help of her surprising companion. The humans pushed for Braila, The waterfronts will be taken by her advantage with the help of the Viking General himself…and Yet..While she won this small victory it came with its already forming problems and questions. 

The first one was simple: Where the bloody hell was Godbrand? 

Camilla had searched the castle's walls, even the courtyards, and yet while all his men seemed to be counted for, He was missing. 

An alley missing only led to a foe who believes themselves to be threatening. 

Carmellia would not give one such satisfaction of her concern about the missing General. She knew well to save her face under anyone's eyes, and yet as soon as daybreak appeared and the only two beings that dared walked it was the humans who busied themselves to their so called great works for the king, she broke her sleep cycle to search the missing comrade room, finding nothing and yet everything. 

She could tell by the borrowed rooms affairs that Godbrand had not packed and left, as his weapons lay by his bed amongst other things that she would deem important enough to the man to want to grab before leaving. Yet the room seemed moved around as if someone themselves came to disarray the room. 

A window messily thrown open to give an appearace of a suicide, had one not known him. 

To give the appearance of a coward's way out. 

And he was nothing of that sort. 

She shut the door before the piercing light of death dared touch her own unbeating flesh. 

Later surrounded in deep pools of the midnight moon she took a stroll through the forest that surrounded the mad man's castle. It's gloaming light being the only other thing the Queen of ice could trust, as the moon was nothing but a woman shining down on her with welcoming arms. 

And like all women, her moonlit shadows loved to gossip as any other, a small flash of dull glittering brought the queen of ices steps to a halt in the first layers of fallen snow, failing to hide what the moon was so eager to whisper about. 

Carmella bent, grabbing the frozen metal into her hand as she stared at the golden carved medallion that bit at her fingers as she wrapped them tightly around it. 

Her surprising companion permanently Silenced. 

How their past conversations plague her mind as she turns following the trail of her footsteps back to the castle. 

The promise she made burned on the tip of her tongue and scorched the scowl of her lips. How she had celebrated the meeting too earnestly.

“A discussion that I think even Godbrand would be happy with.” 

She sneered as she slashed her claws against the bark of a tree. 

Breathing harshly as she mourned her scream that she would now have to revise to her advantage, her placement. 

And mourn a  friend who had proven to be a damn good alley Amongst all the old fuckers that sat around merely talking with no bite behind their words. 

Her gleaming eyes staring at the medallion freezing her already frozen hand.

By the time she step up the castle steps, her composer was perfect, face collected and mind seemingly at ease as she moved through the castle walls, the eyes of the old fucks upon her, surely plotting in their own ways disinterest her as she climb stairs up to a tower. 

The human mutt that seemed such an easy play thing pounding away at a corpse. 

And yet her scheming mind played out her plans in front of her as she moved towards him letting sweet nothings fall from her lips as she toyed with the mongrel's mind. 

“Just this once, send one of them for me?”

“What's the harm if one night creature did something a little different?” 

A gentle cunning caress here, a bat of her lashes there and a venomously sweet pull of her lips there had the mad king's dog listening to her false honey commands. 

Her eyes watching the dead crow fly in the moonlit sky away from the tower, a letter tied to its leg and a medallion secured tightly in its beak, flying seaming nowhere to find a half breed. 

No.

She shook the thoughts away as she turned descending down steps to her chambers.

To her friend's  son

[kaidatheghostdragon]

So i decided to rewatch static shock and now i have Ideas(tm)

IDEA 1

Amity and dakota are neighboring and/or sister cities, and virgil and danny are the same age or one is only a few years older than the other.

A few things about dakota's location:

It has miles of waterfront on its east side to Lake Dakota, which has ocean access. The lake has a golden gate sized bridge over it, but the other side is never shown. An extremely large artificial lake from a dammed up river that leads to the atlantic makes the most sense to me. A fictional Great Lake is also entirely possible. Either option probably still limits Dakota to east of (or connected to?) the mississippi, especially when combined with the point below.

Its implied to be close enough to gotham for virgil to signal batman in the sky, and to quickly fly over. There's still plenty of room for reinterpretation, though.

Its large enough to have 'miles' of waterfront, and to have stadiums hosting major sports events, so its safely larger than amity park.

I was looking at a map and thought it would be great if dakota was between or encompassed toledo and detroit (i got the impression it was an expy of chicago or detroit anyways), with lake eerie and lake st clair on its east. Lake st clair would be renamed dakota lake and lake erie is the lake eerie that danny and his dad visit. Amity park is in ohio instead of illinois (which is fanon anyways).

(Also, hilariously, dakota has a poorer neighborhood called the fenton projects. Do with that what you will.)

So basically, dakota is the closest "big city" to amity park, so theres a lot of cross travel. Both cities get their vigilantes at the same time and bond over the mutual weirdness, and team phantom and team shock are close allies that constantly fly over to help each other out.

OR, one of the origin stories happened 2-5 years after the other, and whichever one is younger goes to the other for vigilante advise and training.

IDEA 2

The chemical that caused the big bang is some form of ecto, and all the bang babies are liminal. In this idea, i imagined team phantom closer to batman's age instead of static's. The (adult) team is investigating ecto-shipments in dakota when or shortly after the big bang event happens, connect alva to vlad and/or the giw, and discover a conspiracy to deliberately create liminals 'for science' (ie the chemicals were purposefully placed at the docks and a gang war deliberately incited).

Team phantom set up a bang baby outreach program at the community center with virgil's dad and quickly identify virgil as static. They train virgil (and eventually richie) and cover their patrols under the excuse that the two are extremely involved in the outreach program (which they are - static recommends the program to all of his rogues).

Danny's team is able to help the various bang babies develop and control their powers, has the resources to help anyone who doesnt want to be associated with ebon's gang, and has a way to safely subdue and contain the bang babies that refuse any help and continue to be a danger to others. And they can show up in a mask if they want to hide their identity while learning to control their powers (not that it would actually stop the team from being able to identify them). The team is also monitoring the bang baby population to make sure the giw or anyone else arent disappearing them.

The team would also take great offense to how the cure was ethically handled at the end of the series, especially if retconning the bang babies as liminals means that 'curing' them would actually hurt them.

Anyways, more danny phantom x static shock crossovers, please.

[luna-eclipse2000]

Baby, You’re a Firework

The AOT boys meeting you for the first time at the Fourth of July/Canada Day firework show

Ft. Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, Levi, Reiner, Bertolt, Connie

Eren

- He didn’t really care for fireworks as a kid

- He just didn’t get the appeal

- But when he got older, he loved going as it symbolized freedom

- Now he gets dressed up in those Old Navy flag shirts and wears a pair of red shorts

- He goes with Armin and Mikasa, obviously

- It’s so crowded that they definitely can’t get close to the front

- “Hey, let’s go up that little hill.” Armin says, pointing behind them

- The three friends climb the hill that has some people sitting on it

- They choose a spot where a tree isn’t blocking their view and sit down

- Armin starts to talk about how old fireworks are and that’s when Eren checks out

- He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling on twitter

- Then he hears a laugh

- It catches his attention somehow which us odd because the waterfront is absolutely packed

- So he looks up and watches as you stumble down the hill from behind him

- You literally take his breath away

- You look behind you to tell whoever you’re with that you’ll be right back

- But you trip on your own foot, causing you to fall down and roll to the bottom of the hill

- Eren is up in a flash and runs down after you

- “Hey, are you alright? That was a pretty nasty fall you took there.”

- “Yeah. I’m fine.” You say, sitting up. “I’m just a little clumsy”

- He holds out his hand and pulls you up

- He finally gets a good look at your face and to say he thinks you look stunning is an understatement

- “Hi. I’m Eren”

- “(Y/N). Thanks for helping me up”

- “No problem. You want someone to walk with you wherever you’re going?”

- You look a bit unsure but when you see your friend shooing you with a smile on her face, and two people sitting just below her and looking pretty ecstatic, probably Eren’s friends, you agree

- You also think he’s incredibly handsome and you’ll probably stay with him near where you’re going so your friend doesn’t start mocking you until you’re ready

- The fireworks begin to go off so you look up excitedly

- He looks down at you with admiration in his eyes

Armin

- Armin loves fireworks

- He loves how something so magical is real

- Plus the show always takes place by the water, so he’s happy about that

- “Did you know that England uses to have someone called the ‘Fire Master of England?’” He asks his friends

- “Really?” Mikasa asks

- “What the hell is that?” Eren asks

- “So Queen Elizabeth the First loved fireworks so much that-“

- “Baby!” A voice squeals as a body throws itself into his side

- Armin grunts as he’s caught off guard

- He looks down at you just as you look up. “I was looking everywhere for you! You said you’d be by the water!”

- Armin blinks a few times. Were you drunk? Were you confused and in need of medical attention? Did he look like your boyfriend? You were super cute, though, so he wasn’t complaining. Just confused

- Then he sees a large male figure walking up to them

- And he understands

- He wraps his arms around you in a hug. “Ah, I’m sorry! I saw Eren and Mikasa and came to say hi. Didn’t realize how long we were talking for.”

- You look so relieved that he understands what’s going on

- You look over at his friends. “Oh, hi! It’s so nice to see you again!”

- Eren’s so fucking confused

- Mikasa catches on right away. “You too. It’s been forever.”

- Armin looks at the guy. “Darling, who’s this? I didn’t think you were bringing any friends.”

- “Oh, he’s no one.” You say and cling to him tighter

- “Ah, well it was nice seeing you.” Armin says, giving a smile to the guy. “Have a nice night.”

- “Ain’t no way you bagged that.” The guy says and then scoffs. “I’m not buying it.”

- Now Eren understands, and he’s ready to throw hands

- But Armin kissing the top if your head catches him off guard

- He lets you go and steps forward. “I suggest you leave my girl alone. You really don’t want to know what I can do when I’m pissed. Do you know exactly where to hit to make you seize up?”

- The guy suddenly looks scared. “No? I do. Now, please. Take your leave, or else you’ll be leaving in a body bag.”

- The guy scoffs and walks away

- Armin breathes out to calm himself down when he feels you wrap your arms around him again

- “Thank you! Thank you, so much! He wasn’t leaving me alone and I got really bad vibes from him.”

- Armin turns around and holds you again. “It’s alright, no need to thank me. Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you did he?”

- You shake your head as you pull away. “No. I saw you and just felt like you’d know what was going on.”

- “Alright, well you’re gonna stay with us, ok?” Armin says. “We’ll bring you wherever you need to go.”

- You nod thankfully. “You’re my hero. Seriously.”

- Armin’s face erupts into a giant blush. “H-Hero? No, please, I was just doing what any sane guy would do!”

- Eren smacks his shoulder. “Armin. You’re her hero.”

- Mikasa gives him a thumbs up

- “Armin? That’s your name? I like it. I’m (Y/N).”

- “Well I like your name as well, (Y/N)”.

- The fireworks start going off, causing Armin to break out into a huge smile

- “Did you know that fireworks originated in China around 2000 years ago?”

Jean

- He’s there with Sasha and Connie

- Marco couldn’t make it as he had to go on vacation to see his family from overseas

- Sasha and Connie are loud

- They’re play fighting, screaming, and just being their usual idiotic selves

- Tonight, however, he can’t take it

- His social battery is already getting drained by all these people so him babysitting them is not gonna happen

- So he decides to take a walk

- It’s difficult to walk though since there’s so many damn people around

- “Hey! Knock it off!” He hears a voice shout

- He instantly looks around and sees you with a guy who’s obviously drunk

- “I said, leave me alone!”

- Jean instantly runs over, barreling over literally everyone

- He pushes the drunk away

- “I think you need a hearing aid, buddy!”

- “Why don’t you mind your own business?” The guy says grabbing Jean’s shirt

- He looks down at the hands, then back up at the guy

- He’s been in this exact same position more times than he can count

- It doesn’t even take that hard of a punch to get the guy to go down

- He’s not knocked out, surprisingly, but he’s definitely reeling

- Jean turns to you and his heart breaks as he sees you shaking

- He notices how pretty you are but pushes that thought away for now

- “Hey, are you alright?”

- You nod. “Th-Thank you.”

- “Don’t worry about it. Do you want me to stay with you in case that dumbass tries anything again?”

- You nod

- “Alright. Then let’s go. He’ll have a harder time finding finding us if we walk away”

- He gently takes your hand and pulls you away

- “I’m Jean, by the way.”

- “(Y/N)”

- You’re still shaken up so when you stop walking away, you wrap your arms around Jean’s waist

- This sets something off in his mind

- You feel safe with him

- You only just met yet your clinging to him like you’re a koala

- Now it’s his goddamn duty to protect you

- He wraps his arm around you to pull you even closer

- “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

- You nod, feeling yourself calm down

- He’s nice and warm, even though it’s a warm night

- You feel like you’re meant to be pressed into his side

- Like his side was made specifically for you

- The fireworks start going off and you gasp in delight, completely forgetting everything that happened mere minutes ago

- Jean can feel his phone go off in his pocket, but he ignores it

- He’ll answer Sasha and Connie later

- When he has your number tucked securely into his contacts

Marco

- He’s there with his parents and little brothers

- They’ve always gone to see the fireworks

- They found out last year that his youngest brother has some issues with loud sounds so they made sure to bring along some headphones for him

- Marco’s always secretly hoped he’d find someone while watching the show

- He finds the idea romantic, ok?

- One of his brothers starts to say that he needs the washroom so Marco grabs his hand and pulls him through the crowd towards the indoor event space

- He’s standing in line with his brother when he watches you get into the other line (either for the female washroom or the gender neutral one, he doesn’t know)

- He knows it’s weird, seeing a random stranger get in line to use the washroom and think they’re gorgeous

- But he looks at you nonetheless

- You feel someone looking at you so you turn your head and notice Marco

- You wave slightly and find it adorable how he blushes and looks away

- You’ve actually seen him before but never got the chance to say hello

- You work at a local toy store and so you see him and his family come in often to buy gifts for the youngest children

- He’s never noticed you before so he never read your name tag

- He feels embarrassed that he was caught but pushes the feeling aside as he eventually makes it to the front of the line

- As they exit the washroom, he sees you standing by the exit door

- You’re probably waiting for someone

- There’s no way someone like you came here alone

- “Hi there.” You greet

- He stops in his tracks. “Me?”

- “Who else could I be talking to?”

- Marco stays silent. He can’t believe you’re talking to him

- “I was wondering if you were here with anyone.” You look down at his brother. “I mean, anyone else.”

- “Oh, uh. Just my parents and my other brothers.”

- “Oh, ok. Sorry.” You say. You then fish into your bag and pull out a pen. You grab his arm and write down your number. “Text me when you get a chance. My name is (Y/N), by the way.”

- Before he can form a sentence, you’re already gone out the door. He looks down at his arm and sees your pretty handwriting

- He immediately fishes his phone out of his pocket and adds your name and number to his contacts

- He then quickly sends a text

- “Hey, there. You just gave me your number. My name is Marco”

- It doesn’t take you long to respond

- “Hi, Marco. If you want to join me, I’m sitting on a checkered purple blanket by the play structure :)”

- He instantly rushes his brother back to his parents before running off to join you

- He practically slides on the ground to sit, he’s so excited

- He’s never had someone so into him that they write their number on his arm like he’s in a romance movie

- He’s now just realizing that his fantasy is coming true as the fireworks go off

- You lean against him and he just about faints at the contact

Levi

- Despises fireworks

- Hates them

- They’re loud, bright, annoying and make the air smell like shit

- He’s also surrounded by strangers and kids

- And what do those two things have in common?

- Germs

- And germs brings colds and sickness, which he absolutely cannot stand

- He only came because Hanji was going and we all know how much trouble Hanji can get in when by themselves

- He cringes at the sight of all the people standing around

- It feels like a cult to him

- All these people flock to one place to watch this big event in dedication to this one moment in history

- “I wanna get close!” Hanji says as they begin to push through the crowd

- Levi grabs their ponytail. “No, we’re not going in that cesspool”

- “Aw, c’mon, Levi! We need to get good spots!”

- “Don’t care. Not going in.”

- Hanji grabs Levi’s hand out of their hair and starts dragging him

- Knowing damn well that Hanji consistently forgets to wash their hands, he struggles to pull out of their grasp

- “Stop being so stubborn!” Hanji exclaims, gripping their friend tighter

- Levi grabs their wrist and yanks himself out

- But the force causes him to stumble backwards

- Tripping right over your legs as you sit on a blanket

- “Oh, my god, are you ok?” You ask him, his legs laying right over yours

- “Yeah. Fine.” He grumbles. He’s about to stand up and beat the living shit out of Hanji for making him tumble over a stranger but then he meets your concerned gaze

- He stops moving and wonders if he stopped breathing for a second

- “Seriously, that was a bit of a nasty fall. Did you hit your head?”

- “Uh… No. No, I’m fine. Sorry.”

- “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t mean to.”

- He nods and stands back up

- He looks around for Hanji but they seem to have abandoned him

- Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance “Damn, four-eyes”

- “Can’t find your friend?” You ask

- “No. Probably didn’t even realize that I fell.”

- “You can stay with me until they come back.” You offer

- He looks down at you patting the empty spot on the blanket

- He doesn’t know where that blanket’s been

- Hell, he doesn’t know where you’ve been

- But for some reason, he can’t say no to that sweet face

- So he sits down and crosses his legs

- “I’m (Y/N)”

- “Levi”

- You pull out a small thing of hand sanitizer and put some in your hand before holding your hand out to shake his

- Yup, he’s instantly star struck

- He takes your hand and shakes it. “I see you like your cleanliness, too?”

- “Mhm. I have a thing with germs. Just the thought creeps me out”

- The fireworks start going off and suddenly, he’s seeing them in a new light

- Maybe they’re not so bad after all

Reiner

- He doesn’t mind fireworks

- He’d honestly prefer to be at home and watch them from his backyard but the city banned backyard fireworks this year so he was forced to go out

- He doesn’t go with anyone

- He had a barbecue earlier in the afternoon so now he’s unwinding from having to talk to people

- It’s not that he doesn’t like people, he just likes not having to entertain them all the time

- He’s still a depressed bean so keeping up face is exhausting

- This is his time

- His time to be alone

- His time to-

- His head whips around as you pass him

- He can’t take his eyes off you as you push through the crowd

- So he turns and starts to follow you

- He doesn’t mean to be creepy

- He just hasn’t felt like this in years so he doesn’t want to let it go so quickly

- It’s like you’re a magnet and he’s metal

- Or a witch and you’ve casted a spell on him

- He follows you to the back of the crowd and watches as you walk over to a group of people

- A group that contains other guys

- The feeling washes away immediately and is replaced by more depression

- There’s no way in hell you aren’t here with one of those guys

- “Hey, looks like you’ve got an admirer.” Your friend says as he points to Reiner

- You turn around and see him

- You think he’s incredibly attractive with those broad shoulders and tall stature

- He starts to walk back into the crowd

- You feel your friend push you

- “Go get him! Bring him over!”

- You nod and quickly run back

- “Excuse me!” You grab his shoulder and when he looks down, his eyes widen

- He can’t believe it

- You stopped him

- “I was wondering if you wanted to join me and my friends.”

- “Friends?” He repeats. “Not your boyfriend?”

- You chuckle. “No. I don’t have one”

- He feels his heart leap for joy. “I’m Reiner.”

- “(Y/N)”

- You bring him back and introduce him to your friends

- They all seem jealous that such a fine man wants to talk with you

- You just smile smugly and grab his arm

- He’s so touch starved that he almost gets on his knees for you

- The show starts and you all watch as the sky lights up in different colours

- You rest your head against his strong arm

- He’s pretty sure he feels his nose start to bleed

Bertolt

- He’s afraid of fireworks

- The sound and light brings back bad memories

- Whenever someone sets off fireworks, he immediately turns on a movie, putting the sound on full blast and hiding under the covers

- He does this during thunderstorms, too

- But his therapist wants him to do exposure therapy

- It’s easier for thunderstorms

- He just has to sit by the window in silence

- But fireworks?

- Those only come around every few months

- And his therapist wants him to go to the show

- He only agreed to go if he brings someone with him

- So Reiner and Annie step up to the plate

- She’s pretty nonchalant while Reiner us praising him up and down

- “You got this, Bert!” “Look at you! You’re doing so good!” “You’re gonna own these bastard fireworks in no time!”

- This helps but he’s still nervous as all hell

- The amount of people isn’t making it any easier

- With all the people buzzing with excitement, it’s just churning his stomach

- They opt to stay on the outside of the crowd

- As the clock strikes ten, Reiner puts an arm around his friend’s shoulder

- He feels a bit more confident

- But when that first firework goes off, he’s no more than a small dog

- He basically becomes a mouse

- He just wants to run and hide

- But with Reiner there, he can’t

- Another firework goes off, so he covers his ears

- Another, he closes his eyes

- And when the fourth one goes off, all that churning comes bubbling to the surface

- He pushes Reiner off and runs away, holding his mouth closed under the bile is too much in his mouth and he lets it out into the grass

- “Oh, sweetie, are you ok?” A soft, sweet voice says from behind him

- He tries to look up but he can’t as his stomach continues to empty

- He feels you start to rub his back comfortingly. “Here. Wipe your mouth”

- He takes the tissue out of your hands and wipes his mouth clean

- As he stands up, he turns to you but keeps his gaze down. “I- Um- I’m sorry”

- “Don’t be sorry.” You say. “Are you alright?”

- He finally looks up at your face and instantly wishes he didn’t

- You’re so beautiful that it makes him almost puke again

- Why did he have to be sick in front of someone like you?

- He opens his mouth to answer but a very loud ‘boom’ sounds off

- He drops the tissue and covers his ears

- You can see the poor boy shaking in his boots

- “Oh, sweetie.” You coo and run over to your bag. Your friend was supposed to join you, but she had to go away for the weekend. You just never removed the noise cancelling headphones from your bag

- You hand them over to him. When you see his eyes closed, you gently touch his arm. He finally opens them and looks at the headphones

- “Here. These should help”

- He gratefully takes the headphones and puts them on

- “Thank you”

- He calms down almost instantly. But you can still see him shaking

- So you gently grab his hand and smile up at him

- His hand is sweaty, but you don’t mind at all

- “It’s ok to be scared. I’ll stay with you until it’s over, ok? I’m (Y/N)”

- “I’m Bertolt.”

- Reiner and Annie watch the whole ordeal go down and tease him about it later

- Only he could pick someone up by blowing chunks in front of them

- Safe to say though that you exchanged numbers and talk all the time

Connie

- This boy goes crazy for the Fourth of July/Canada Day

- He’s wearing a hat, face paint, flag shirt, matching shorts, flags in both hands, and even has celebratory crocs with matching Jibbitz

- Safe to say he stands out

- And in a crowd of thousands, that’s hard to do

- He’s there with Jean and Sasha, Sasha being dressed up too but not like him

- Jean in that moment really starts to question where he went wrong in life to get Connie and Sasha as his best friends

- Connie, even though his get up seems finished, needs more merch

- So he leaves Sasha and Jean to man their spot as he pushes through the crowd and up to the stand selling just about everything he could hope for

- Is part of him doing this to annoy Jean more? Abso-fucking-lutely

- He looks at all the items on offer when he notices someone walk up beside him

- He’s mesmerized but not just because you look amazing, but because you match his vibe

- You are wearing a light up hat and a necklace that’s singing the national anthem

- And don’t get him started on your makeup

- It’s way more elaborate than the painted stripes he did on his cheeks

- You look at him and smile widely when you see how decked out he is

- “I thought I was the only crazy one here!”

- “Crazy? Baby, you haven’t seen crazy yet”

- You laugh in response

- He wants to hear you laugh again

- No, scratch that. He needs to hear you laugh again

- So he buys the bubble wand and presses the button so bubbles start shooting out

- He starts screeching the anthem at the top of his lungs like a damn seagull

- You laugh so hard you nearly fall down

- Connie catches you though, so you end up laughing into his chest

- You’ve finally found another person who’s as insane as you are

- Connie knows how rare it is to find another person like him, so he knows he can’t just let you go

- “Are you here with anyone?”

- “Yeah, technically.” You sigh. “But they all thought I was being annoying and left. I was gonna buy something to cheer myself up”

- “No need.” Connie says, linking your arm with his. “You have new friends. Sasha’s like us and Jean actually tolerates our craziness. Pretty sure he secretly likes it”

- You giggle and hold his arm tighter

- “Then take me to thy leader!”

- He laughs and begins to lead you back. “I’m Connie.”

- “Nice to meet you, Connie. I’m (Y/N)”

- Sasha and Jean give each other a look as you two approach. They’ll leave Connie alone for now

- But once you’re gone? They’re mocking the living shit out of him

- Titanic references. Singing ‘A Whole New World’. Humming the wedding tune. Making kissing noises- the whole nine yards

- As the fireworks start going off, he starts screaming the national anthem

- Jean covers his ears and then his jaw drops as you join him

- People start giving you looks

- “Oh, god. Now there’s three of them” Jean says

[ereardon]

The Back Seater and the Baker || Chapter 2 [Bob Floyd x f!OC]

Overview: Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC [Bakery owner Haley Nichols]

Tropes: Marriage pact

Chapter summary: Haley reminisces about how she met Bob as kids; Bob surprises Haley with an exhilarating first date; the two share a second first kiss

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol

Word count: 3.1K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were nine the first time you laid eyes on Bob Floyd. 

This time his family was new in town and he started three weeks into the fourth grade. 

“Class, we have a new joiner.” Your teacher, Mrs. Pebbles, put her hands on Bob’s thin shoulders. “This is Robert Floyd, he’s just moved here from. Where are you from, sweetpea?” 

Bob nudged the thick frames up his nose where they had slipped. “Mobile.”

“Alabama,” Mrs. Pebbles said. “OK honey, take a seat. Anywhere with a free desk.” 

Even back then, Bob was nervous looking. Almost anxious for a child. He paused at the front of the class, worry creasing his tiny face, shoulders hunched under the weight of his blue Jansport backpack. 

You looked up and smiled, eyes flicking to the empty desk to your left. Bob looked at you questioningly and you nodded. Finally, he started down the aisle, sliding into the empty seat near the window. 

“I’m Haley,” you said softly as Mrs. Pebbles gathered a stack of papers at the front of the room and started handing out a sheet with math equations. 

“Bob,” he whispered. 

“Not Robert?” 

“Not really.” 

“OK,” you said, smiling. “You can eat lunch with me, if you want.” 

“Really?”

You nodded. “I’ll meet you by the cafeteria doors after fourth period.” 

Bob cocked his head to one side. Mrs. Pebbles was closing in on the two of you and class would resume soon. “Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Everyone needs a friend,” you said quietly. 

Later that day, Bob walked, hunched over, through the busy hallway toward the cafeteria. He didn’t expect much. He had moved before, he knew what it was like to be the new kid. 

So when he looked up and saw you smiling at the cafeteria doors, his heart leapt in his chest. 

He fell in love with you a little, then and there. 

***

You learned that Bob had gone to school and then quickly enrolled in officer’s training and that he was something called a WSO. His family had never left Mount Pleasant. They still went to the Harris Teeter off of Long Grove Drive, and First Baptist by the waterfront. 

Bob listened with rapt attention as you told him about your time in undergrad and then at Wharton. How you had graduated with a MBA and moved to New York, but felt unfulfilled, spending night after night at an investment banking office in FiDi until three in the morning. How the only thing that you had enjoyed was going home to your Tribeca studio and cooking in the early hours of the morning when the rest of the city slept. That after a year you quit your job and enrolled in culinary school, where you met Calvin, and that together the two of you had moved back to Charleston where you ran a bakery near King Street. 

Before you realized, your plates had been cleared and your stomach was full but all you could remember were Bob’s piercing blue eyes as he watched you. You tossed your hands in the air, you had always been an animated talker, and he grinned. Suddenly you were fifteen again and somewhere deep in your stomach you felt a pang of guilt. 

The waiter swept by and before you could reach out, Bob had slipped him a credit card. 

“Hey,” you frowned. “Dinner was supposed to be on me, remember?” 

“Absolutely not, darlin’,” he said and you felt an ache between your legs at how good the small glimpses of Bob’s accent were. “Been waiting a long time to take you out on a proper date.” 

“I liked eating pralines by the water just as much as any expensive date.” 

“I know you did,” Bob said softly. “That’s what I love about you.” 

His words hovered in the air. Heavy. The waiter returned with the card folder and Bob busied himself signing the check. You watched his neat handwriting, the way his hand shook slightly as he put the pen down and smoothed the paper receipt. 

Bob looked up. “Shall we?” 

You nodded, standing up, Bob’s hand light against the small of your back as he guided you out of the restaurant into the dark street. Without thinking, you turned to him, slipping your hand into his. “I know I gave you a surprise, just showing up,” you whispered. “But I’m really glad I came.” 

Bob smiled. “Me, too.” 

“Doesn’t feel weird?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Somehow, no. I think a part of me always hoped one day you’d show up out of the blue and ask me to marry you.” 

You laughed, head thrown back, and Bob grinned. His fingers were warm and solid in your hand. “I’d invite you over, but my hotel room isn’t very guest friendly.” 

“I’m pretty tired, Peanut,” Bob admitted. “And we have a test flight in the morning. But what are you doing tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know, what are we doing?” 

Bob’s eyes lit up. “I’ll text you where to meet me. Wear closed toe shoes.” 

You squinted. “What?” 

“Just go with it, darlin’,” he whispered and you felt goosebumps line your skin. Somewhere between 2007 and now, Bob had gotten sexy. There was a gravely nature to his voice, a dominance that hadn’t been there when the two of you were kids. He had filled out and even though you had yet to see him naked you just knew that there was muscle where before it had only been skin and bones. 

You leaned in and grazed your lips against his cheek, kissing him softly. “See you tomorrow, Bobby.” 

***

 You frowned at the GPS. This couldn’t be right. You were at the gates of Top Gun. Two men in full military gear stood with guns outside the imposing gates as you drove your rental car up. 

“Can we help you, miss?” the shorter one asked. 

“I uh, I’m meeting someone.” 

“Name?” 

“Haley Nichols.” 

“Their name.” 

“Oh, crap, sorry it’s Bob Floyd. Robert Floyd.” 

“Lieutenant Floyd.” He flicked through a page on his tablet. “That’s approved.” He nodded to the man next to him who pressed a button, opening the gate. “Have a nice day.” 

“Thanks.” You drove through the gate slowly, in awe. You had wondered what Bob would do as an adult. He had always been math and science oriented as a kid. You had thought maybe a chemist, a physicist, a professor. 

Never had you expected him to go into the navy. 

You pulled the car into a parking lot and stepped out, shielding your face from the late afternoon sun with one hand. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a figure emerge from a large white hangar, in a green outfit. As he drew nearer, you realized it was Bob. 

“Hey!” he said, slowing down his jog as he met you. Without even thinking, you tossed your arms around his neck, drawing him into a hug. He pulled back, smiling. “You ready?” 

“For what?” you asked. 

Bob grinned. “Time to suit up, darlin’.” 

“I, what?” 

He grabbed your hand, tugging you toward the white building. You couldn’t help but admire how he looked in his flight suit, hair combed back neatly, glasses perfectly balanced on his button nose. His hand was warm in yours and you followed him willingly into the shade of the hangar, out from the blinding sun. 

Looking around, you felt small. Jets towered above you. It felt illegal standing so close to them, practically brushing against the metal bellies that you knew were lethal weapons in the air. 

Bob smiled down at you. “Well?” 

“I can’t believe this is your job,” you whispered softly, in awe. “It’s just not what I predicted for you.” 

Bob squeezed your hand before letting it fall. “Come on, have a surprise for you.” 

“Floyd!” A few people from the bar entered the hangar, all wearing matching green flight suits. You recognized the tall one with the scars on his jaw. Chicken or something similar. 

“Rooster,” Bob said. “You remember Haley.” 

“The fiance.” Rooster smiled down at you. “I remember. Nice to see you again.” 

“Nice to see y’all.” 

“Is it take your girlfriend to work day?” The familiar blond with perfect features grinned from the back of the group. 

“Haley here is going on her first flight today,” Bob said and you looked up, astonished. He smiled widely. “Surprised?”

“Terrified,” you replied and Bob smoothed his hand over your back. 

“You’ll do fine.” 

“Are you taking me up?” 

He shook his head and your face fell. “Phoenix is. I trust her more than anyone.” He leaned in closer. “I wouldn’t trust you with anyone else. I promise.” 

“You’re Floyd’s girl, wouldn’t dare to try anything.” Phoenix appeared on the fringe of the group with a smirk. “Although I will say you look a lot like my ex-girlfriend, so no guarantees.” 

Bob flushed and you laughed. 

Phoenix handed you a flight suit and a helmet. “Bathroom is over there. Suit up babe, we’re heading up in a few.” 

The flight suit felt uncomfortable as you followed Phoenix out to the jet on the runway. Bob stopped as Phoenix started to do checks on the plane. “You can say no,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to force you into anything. I just thought it might be fun.” 

You gulped down your anxiety. “Can I talk to you on the headset?” 

He nodded. “I’ll be up there with Rooster so you can talk to me the whole time, OK?” 

You nodded and Bob leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek, his fingers inching low on your back. “See you on the ground, Peanut.” 

The moment you were in the skies, your stomach was in your throat but as soon as you and Phoenix penetrated the clouds, it lifted. “On your left,” Phoenix said into the mic and you looked over, Bob and Bradley’s jet hovering in the space next to you. Bob waved enthusiastically and you waved back, beaming. “Ready to roll?” she asked. 

“What?” 

“Hold on,” Phoenix said, and the next second you were flattened, the jet slicing through the air at speeds you had never imagined before. It was like being on a rollercoaster but also on LSD. You let out a little yelp. 

“Doing OK, honey?” Bob’s voice was sweet in your ear. You had almost forgotten he was there. 

“I think so,” you gasped. 

“Phoenix, slow down,” Bob demanded. 

Phoenix laughed. “She’s fine, Floyd. You’re alright, aren’t you Hales?” 

You looked around. It was a layer of fluffy white clouds. In the jet next to you, even behind the helmet you could tell that Bob was worried. You nodded. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Bob pressed. 

“She’s a big girl, Floyd,” Phoenix said, pushing the jet faster. “Hold on, pumpkin.” 

The two of you shuttled forward into the abyss. After a few moments, you watched Bob’s jet catch up on your left. And suddenly, it wasn’t so scary anymore. There was an exhilaration. It was like nothing you had ever experienced. “Holy shit,” you whispered, completely forgetting the mic was turned on. 

Phoenix laughed. “See, she’s having fun.” 

“Peanut?” Bob’s voice over the mic was crinkly. 

You turned to your left and grinned. “Remember the third grade when Keith Atwater said he could beat me in a foot race?” 

Bob chuckled. “You wiped the floor with him.” 

“Think Phoenix and I can beat the two of you that bad now?” 

“Oh shit.” Rooster’s voice came over the mic. “I think we’re being challenged, Floyd. What do you say?” 

“Sure about that honey?” 

“She suggested it,” Phoenix said. “Or are you scared of losing, Floyd?” 

Bob’s voice was velvet over the mic. “Peanut?” 

“Be prepared to get your ass handed to you.” 

Rooster and Phoenix laughed in unison. “Count us down, Peanut,” Bob said. “Two minutes, on the clock.” 

“Losers buys the winners beer.” 

“Three, two, one.” 

You felt your head snap back as Phoenix kicked the plane forward, the two of you piercing through the air. You could barely see or breathe or think, and you had no idea how they did anything other than just fly when they were in the air, let alone make rational decisions, defend allies, action plans. 

It was over before you even knew it, Phoenix whooping in the seat in front of you as Bob and Rooster pulled up on your left, shaking their heads. 

“See you boys down there,” Phoenix said, dipping the nose of the jet gently toward land. 

“Nice job, Nix.” Bob’s voice floated through your headset. “Guess I owe you a drink, Peanut.” 

You grinned as Phoenix guided the plane down back to the runway. Once the jet had stopped, she opened the hatch and unclipped herself, turning around, helmet under her arm. “Listen, Floyd is my back seater. That means he trusts me with his life, and I trust him with mine.” Her gaze was hard. “I want to like you, Haley. Just don’t hurt him.” 

You stood up. “I won’t.” 

She nodded, climbing out of the jet and holding out a hand. “I’m going to hold you to that.” 

Bradley and Bob were down on the ground a moment later. You climbed out of the jet and down onto the ground, swiping your hair back from your face, waiting for the two to dismount. Bob climbed out first, bounding over and before you could even register the action in your mind you were reaching up, wrapping him in a hug. His arms came around your waist tightly, pulling you in closer. Once the two of you parted, you touched his sweaty face softly. “Best date ever.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. Bradley approached from behind, clapping Bob on the back. “Think we owe these ladies some drinks.” 

“One drink,” Bob said, leading you back to the hangar, “but that’s it.”

You pouted. “One drink? That wasn’t the deal. I thought it was an all night offer.” 

Bob’s hand was heavy on your back as he leaned in. “One drink because I want you to myself the rest of the night.” 

You looked up at him with a grin. 

***

Bob’s house was small and charming. You had seen only the kitchen and foyer that first night that you showed up. He drove you back in your car, leaving his truck at the base. You took a shower, emerging from the bathroom to find that Bob had laid out a pair of boxers and one of his old sweatshirts for you to wear on the bed. 

When you emerged from the bedroom, Bob was standing in the living room with his flight suit tied around his waist, black t-shirt clinging to his abdomen. He spotted you and hung up the phone. “Perfect, thanks.” Bob slid the phone into his pocket. “I ordered a pizza, hope that’s OK. Thought we might want to stay in and all I have in the fridge is some old cheese and a decaying apple.” 

“Pizza sounds great.” You wanted to step closer, tear the shirt from Bob’s sweaty muscles where it clung to him, feel the hardness of his abdomen beneath your fingertips. You were surprised at the level of attraction you had to Bob. Even after all this time. Even after everything. 

“I’m going to shower,” he said softly. “Be right out, I promise.” 

You nodded and Bob disappeared down the hall. He was only gone a minute when your phone buzzed. You pulled it out of your bag on the ground and groaned. 

Peterson wedding wants to cancel the mini cupcake order. That’s $800. What should I do?

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, dialing Calvin. He picked up immediately. “No.” 

“Well I know it’s a no, but how do I say no?” 

“You just say no,” you repeated, pacing around the small living room. “They signed a contract. So they can either have the cupcakes or not, either way they’re paying the price.” 

Calvin sighed. “Alright, fine, I’ll call bridezilla.” 

“Thank you.” You slumped down onto the sofa. 

“How’s it going?” he asked. “How’s the fake boyfriend?” 

“His name is Bob,” you corrected. “And he’s actually amazing.” 

“Oh sweetie.” Calvin’s voice was dripping with pity. “Don’t go falling in love with him. Did you tell him about Grandma Lee and the clause?” 

“No,” you snapped, eyes wide, but the shower was still running. “And he’s not going to find out.” 

“Everything bites you in the ass sooner or later.” 

“He’s a good person,” you said gently. “Nice. Kind. Handsome.” 

“Handsome? What does Mr. Perfect do?” 

“He’s a Navy pilot.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You grinned. “You’d be in heaven. All of his friends are gorgeous.” 

“If I didn’t have to make sixteen cakes tomorrow I’d be on the first flight to California.” 

The water in the bathroom stopped. “Listen, Cal, I gotta run. Text me with any issues, OK?” 

“You got it boss.” Calvin paused. Then, “And Haley?” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s going to come out eventually,” he said. “So don’t get too attached.” 

Bob walked out into the hallway, wet hair combed back neatly, wearing a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. You stood up, smiling. “Too late. I’ll talk to you later.” You ended the call. 

“Everything OK?” Bob asked, crossing the room. He looked like he wanted to touch you, put a hand on your waist, slide his hand against yours. But he held back. 

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re here, so everything is fine.” 

Bob stepped closer. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body. It made your skin tingle with the sheer anticipation. “The last thing I expected was to open my door and find you,” he whispered, voice deep and sultry and it skimmed over your curves in waves. “And here you are, fifteen years later. Still the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Oh, Bobby,” you sighed. 

“I mean it, Peanut,” he said and you knew he did. Truth was laced into every single world falling out of his mouth. “Not a day goes by where I didn’t wish that things could have been different. That you could have stayed. That we had tried harder to make things work. That I had tracked you down sooner.” 

“Things happen for a reason,” you murmured, closing the gap between the two of you, looping your arms around Bob’s neck, his blue eyes glued on yours. 

“Maybe.” 

“I think this is our second chance,” you said as Bob’s fingers reached out, ghosting over your waist. 

“I can't waste a second chance,” Bob said, leaning down, free hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips landed on yours, consuming you in a kiss that you felt might never end. 

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[geasthewritingrat]

Proposing at the same time

Pairings; Ferdinand x reader, Hubert x reader, Claude x reader, Dimitri x reader, Yuri x reader (separate) Gender Neutral! Possibly OOC but I’ve just worked 6 days consecutively I’m tired (I also didn’t mean for Ferdie and Hubie’s to be so much longer than everyone else’s I promise)

Ferdie; -He spent so much time in multiple different towns, trying to find the best ring for you, and if he wasn’t so swamped with work he’d have made the ring himself, but he eventually settled on a gorgeous, elegant yet extravagant, jewelled band that suits you and your stunning beauty perfectly -The whole night was perfectly planned, from the time he calls for you, to the sweet speech he’d prepared (and rehearsed) over the course of many early mornings (Hubie caught him reading it in front of the mirror once and poor Ferdie’s never seen such pure amusement on anyone’s face) -It’s already all set up by the time you both reach the secluded meadow, blanket laid neatly in a patch of grass surrounded by flowers, yet not squishing too many, candles carefully placed so they don’t fall and burn everything to the ground, fireflies dancing in the moonlight, your favourite foods, lovingly handmade by Ferdinand himself, beautifully covered so none other than you two could enjoy it -A perfect night for the most perfect person in his eyes -Yet he completely forgets that he was meant to propose. Literally just, forgets. He’s so enthralled by your beauty and enraptured by your melodic voice that he forgets about the box in his pocket, forgets about the speech he made, forgets that he’s meant to ask you to share the rest of your lives together because in that moment it truly seemed as if you were the only people to exist -It’s only when you, having known his plan all along (he’s not subtle nor sly enough to hide it), pull out a box containing the ring you spent weeks choosing, showing it to him with a sheepish smile, that he remembers what he came there to do and scrambles to pull out the ring he chose for you -Very romantic, 10/10 -He later tells Dorothea everything that happened, dramatically lamenting the fact he never got to say his long, very sweet speech he had prepared, and she brings the whole ordeal up during her speech at the wedding

Hubie; -Oh Hubie, oh sweet, caring mother hen Hubie -As well-informed and sly as he is, he’s near-hopeless when it comes to romance, so when he found out you were taking trips to various jewellers searching for rings he genuinely thought you were just browsing for yourself, even if its not usually your type of thing (or, maybe you were looking at rings for him, to coax him out of his glove-wearing obsession) -With how much time he spent also at the same jewellers that you visited (he thought you were better with accessories than him so he followed your lead in secret) you’d think he would wisen up and figure it out but no, it takes the jeweller themself mentioning you for him to realise you were looking for engagement rings and not everyday rings -He found a ring that he thought would be perfect for you and the jeweller mentioned that you’d been eyeing that one and that’s what finally made him clock on to what all your trips had truly been for -Not wanting to be taken by surprise with no way to smoothly recover and act like he has everything perfectly planned all the time, he carries the ring with him everywhere he goes, even if you’re not nearby or maybe even in a whole other city doing work stuff -After a talk with Edelgard, he decides to plan something special to show that he does, in fact, absolutely adore you and everything you do, but he does still keep the ring with him in a special pocket that he refuses to use for anything else -It happens at a time that neither of you had prepared (the dinner he had planned was set for a week later, and you were gonna do it later the next night), you two were just sitting by the waterfront one warm afternoon, gazing out at the glittering lake before you, when you felt peaceful and relaxed enough to ask him to close his eyes as you stood to kneel behind him, ring box in hand -He’s smart (sometimes) and knows exactly what you’re doing, so he takes the ring box out of his pocket and displays it proudly as he turns around once you tell him you’re ready

Claude; -Fecker knew the whole damn time -Somehow knew from the moment you thought to yourself “huh, I think I wanna marry Claude” -He mentions to Hilda one day that he’s 99% sure you’re out shopping for engagement rings at that exact moment, and then says “hey you know what would be really funny” and decides that he, too, would be proposing after you spent so much time & effort planning everything with your second closest confidant (whoever that may be) -So when you finally muster up the courage to take him to a gorgeous beach one evening after a satisfying dinner, he’s got this unusual, unreadable grin on his face, hands behind his back as he fiddles with the little velvet box containing the ring he oh so lovingly chose for you, only to trip and fall, grabbing you by the arm and bringing you down with him -Now, two identical ring boxes lay on the sand in front of you, and Claude’s sheepish “surprise?” almost makes up for the mouthful of sand you’re now having to spit out -He’s laughing and you’re eating sand

Dima; –Absolutely clueless -You two proposing at the same time really is just pure chance -He didn’t even know you were planning on proposing in the first place! Okay maybe he had a slight hunch but he didn’t want to ask in case he was wrong and it was just wishful thinking on his part -Dimitri (lovely Dima, gorgeous man, amazing) asks the Blue Lions for help with choosing the right ring and planning the perfect date, some help more begrudgingly than others (looking at you Felix Hugo Fraldarius), but in the end he has a solid plan and a pretty damn gorgeous ring, all he needs now is self confidence and you -A while before the actual event, he tells you that he’s taking you to see some of Faerghus’ most beautiful snowy areas, promising countless tales from his childhood, and you decide that that’s the perfect time to propose, because it sounds phenomenal and you had no idea Dimitri was planning on proposing then too -When you two reach the absolutely stunning and truly wondrous area, you pull out your ring box and get on one knee, only to see Dimitri blink a few times before doing the exact same thing, blushing hard and smiling wide

Yuri; -He found out your plan by accidentally going to the same jeweller as you at the same time as you, seeing you carefully inspecting the engagement rings as he got through the door, but because he’s Yuri mf Leclerc you didn’t see him as he stood in the shadows and observed your choice -It made him feel all warm & fuzzy inside so he searches high and low for The Best Ring Ever to give to you -From that point onwards, he’s taking the ring with him whenever you ask him to join you on an outing, no matter how big or small that outing may be, but to his surprise you don’t propose on any of those trips -One day, he’s been working non stop for hours, so you waltz into his office and all-but drag him to the dining table, lecturing him about how he needs to eat properly even if his work is very important, and since he just thought it was a normal dinner he didn’t take the ring with him -To his shock, you end up spontaneously proposing after you both finish eating, confessing that you were planning to propose on each of those little trips you took him on, only for it to not feel right or for nerves to get the better of you, so you decided to do it in a place you both feel comfortable and at ease -He accepts, obviously, but then takes you back to his office to show you that he bought you a ring too, slipping it straight onto your finger

- Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! As always I have been Geas and you have been awesome, never forget that. I hope that you are giving yourself a break and treating yourself fairly, because while things may seem like they’re spinning out of control sometimes, you are stronger and better than you know. -

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep. 105: Moving On and Moving In

With Luigi’s post college career on track, it was time for him to focus on fulfilling his lifelong desire to establish his own homestead in sunny Sulani.

He’d always imagined living right on the water, but none of the available waterfront properties would accommodate a stable. He refused to abandon his promise that Noemi could adopt a horse, so the couple searched further inland for their own personal slice of paradise.

Scouring openings on all the islands, they finally decided on a modest sized ranch on Lani St. Taz. It was quite close to the beach, and the large side yard called out for a sturdy stable. After walking through the lot a couple times, they decided it was perfect.

With the island ranch now officially their  home, it was time to furnish it with everything their little family needed to live comfortably.

Luigi had never worried about simoleons and spared no expense purchasing the best furniture and appliances. In the end they spent almost every penny of his savings as well as the surprisingly large nest egg Noemi and Kiana had set aside by living modestly.

Being two professionals soon to start lucrative careers, Luigi was sure they’d be making more than enough to replenish their bank account quickly.

The final step, of course, was getting all that furniture moved in and setup (not to mention paint and wallpaper!). The house they’d bought had been “move in ready” with a neutral and thoroughly boring beige interior pallet, and according to Luigi that “simply wouldn’t do”.

Noemi was glad they’d taken Dr. Valasquez’s advice to put out a call for help getting them settled. After all the house hunting, she was in absolutely no condition to do much more than lounge around and try to recover from hauling their nearly full-term baby around with them.

Luigi dropped his favorite girl off at the homestead to keep his self proclaimed “lazy” father company while he and a large group of younger family and friends spent the day setting their new home up just right.

While unpacking Luigi had time to catch up on the others lives.

Bonnie sent her husband Leroy’s regrets. He was up against a big deadline in his new job as a freelance writer, but they were doing well. She’d even brought some of the first vegetables harvested from the seeds Luigi had given her at Winterfest as a housewarming gift!

Scott reported that he and Bria had started talking about trying for a baby. His sister practically had her own basketball team, and he figured it was time for him to maybe have at least one of his own! Luigi wished the couple luck while silently shaking his head in disbelief that he’d ended up being one of the first in his friend group to have a child when he’d been so unsure of when he’d even feel ready to get started trying!

Most of his friends may have been doing well, but as soon as they’d arrived Luigi had sensed the tension between Hunter and Tess, who’d just given up their quest for a baby themselves after a string of devastating miscarriages. He’d contemplated not inviting them to help with the move to spare them having to help unpack so much infant gear, but he couldn’t bear the thought that they might feel unwelcome or abandoned.

Hunter was quiet and withdrawn, barely responding to Luigi’s gentle questions. Tess shed more light on their situation, taking advantage of a moment alone with him to confide her fears for her husband’s mental health and the difficulties she was having getting him to communicate with her.

The loss of their babies had taken a heavy toll on their relationship. Luigi told his friend how sorry he was and reminded her he was there for them if he could help in any way. He loved them both and hoped they could bounce back from their troubles without losing each other too.

At the end of the long day Peachy and Noemi arrived with a couple big bags of groceries. Taking her hand Luigi excitedly showed his girl from room to room, basking in the glow of her happy smile.

According to Noemi she’d had her fill of muted tones living with Kiana’s plain tastes in décor, preferring the bold colors and bright patterns that filled their new home. At the end of the tour, she told Luigi that her absolute favorite room was the nursery. A serene blue paradise, she just knew that the little person sleeping peacefully inside her was going to absolutely love it there someday soon.

Gathering everyone in the living room the couple offered their wholehearted thanks and invited them to stick around. It was time to party!

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here