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theonottsbxtch · 11 days ago

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PREACHER’S DAUGHTER | MV1

an: can you tell i have an amazing music taste, anyway i’m finishing up a lot of my wips this weekend therefore be ready for a bit of stuff to come out!! i need to update my master list

warnings: domestic abuse, religious themes obvs

wc: 10.2k

Max was never one for church.

Never believed in any of that.

But God, would he get on his knees for a girl.

He couldn’t even remember when he first saw her—it was like she’d always been there, glowing in a way that made his chest tighten and his palms itch to touch what he had no business reaching for.

She was perfect in that untouchable kind of way. Always smiling, always polite. The kind of girl who said "please" and "thank you" without sounding fake. She had a laugh that could make angels jealous and a silver cross around her neck that caught the light just right, like some divine shield.

And Max? He was everything she wasn’t. Grease under his nails, a cigarette always tucked behind his ear, and a devil-may-care attitude that had sent half the town clutching their pearls. He’d been watching her for weeks now, maybe months. The way she walked, her little rituals—Bible study on Wednesday nights, choir practice on Saturdays, and the absolute certainty that she’d be on her family’s porch every evening at seven, helping her mom snap beans or some other domestic chore that Max couldn’t wrap his head around.

She didn’t belong in his world. Hell, she probably didn’t even know it existed. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. No, needing her.

It was the way she looked so... pure, he supposed. Untouched by the grime and shadows he carried around like second skin. And it wasn’t just her innocence he wanted to wreck. It was the thought of making her his—really his. Of seeing her in his world, in his trailer, on his bike, wearing his marks, not that dainty little cross that probably smelled of Sunday mornings and lavender soap.

Max didn’t follow her. Not exactly. But he always seemed to know where she’d be, and tonight wasn’t any different. Wednesday night Bible study. He parked his beat-up car down the street from the little white church, hidden enough to keep from drawing attention. Not that anyone would think twice—it wasn’t like he blended in with the choir crowd.

The stained-glass windows glowed softly, warm light spilling out into the cool evening air. He could hear the faint hum of voices, maybe a hymn being sung, as he leaned back against the hood of his car and waited. He lit another cigarette, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

When the front doors finally swung open, he straightened, tossing the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under his boot. She was the last to leave, as he knew she would be. Everyone else had trickled out in pairs and groups, chatting and laughing as they headed home. But she stayed behind, always locking up on her own.

Tonight, she was struggling with a box full of what looked like hymnals and Bible study materials, juggling it while trying to fit the key into the heavy wooden doors. Max could see the way her fingers fumbled, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Before he could think better of it, he started across the street. The click of his boots on the pavement caught her attention, and she turned her head sharply, her soft eyes widening as she saw him.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking from his face to the box in her arms and then back again. He noticed how she clutched it tighter, like she wasn’t sure if she should trust him.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. “I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, stepping closer. Before she could protest, he reached out and took the box from her. Their fingers brushed, and the contrast hit him like a punch to the gut. Her hands were soft, smooth, and clean, while his were rough, calloused, and stained with grease that never seemed to wash off.

“Thanks,” she said reluctantly, looking up at him. He noticed how small she seemed compared to him, how her cross caught the light even in the dark.

“You’re the boy that fixes Daddy’s car,” she said after a beat. “From the shop in town.”

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Didn’t know you knew me.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just… heard Daddy talking about you. Said you do good work.”

He smirked at that, carrying the box like it weighed nothing and setting it gently down beside her. “Guess I’m a little famous, then.”

She laughed softly, and it was the kind of sound that made something deep in his chest tighten. She reached for her key again, this time managing to lock the doors without the box in her way.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, stepping back and brushing her hands against her skirt.

“Anytime,” he replied, his grin widening. He leaned against the doors, watching her as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she were about to answer, but then she shook her head. “I should go. My family will be waiting.”

And just like that, she was walking away, her head held high, her skirt swaying gently with each step.

Max watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his grin fading into something darker, more determined.

“See you around,” he muttered under his breath.

Because he would. One way or another.

Max didn’t see her again for days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on his mind. She had a way of lingering there, like the scent of rain after a storm—clean, fresh, and completely out of place in his world.

The more he thought about her, the more he couldn’t shake the way her voice had sounded when she’d called him "the boy that fixes Daddy’s car." There was no judgment in it, no disdain. Just a simple observation, like she hadn’t even realised how different their worlds were.

But Max knew. Oh, he knew.

She was the preacher’s daughter, for God’s sake. The girl who probably spent her nights reading scripture and praying for sinners like him. And he? He was the guy people crossed the street to avoid, the one mothers warned their daughters about. He’d left home at fifteen, slept on park benches and under bridges until he’d scraped together enough to buy that rusted-out trailer. He worked double shifts at the garage, spent his weekends drinking cheap beer with guys who wouldn’t bat an eye at a bar fight, and had a reputation that kept most people from looking him in the eye.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He knew that.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want her anyway.

The next Wednesday, he found himself back outside the church, parked in the same spot as before. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself. But when he saw her again, her laugh carrying across the parking lot as she said goodbye to the last of her Bible study group, he felt that same pull in his chest.

This time, he didn’t approach her. Not yet. Instead, he leaned against his shit box car and watched as she locked the doors, her movements quick and practiced. She wasn’t carrying anything tonight, but she still seemed to pause for a moment, glancing around like she could feel his eyes on her.

He ducked his head, pretending to light a cigarette even though it was already burning. When he glanced back up, she was gone.

The next few days passed in a blur of oil changes, engine repairs, and sleepless nights. Max couldn’t shake the image of her—the way her hands had brushed his, the way she’d looked at him like she was trying to figure him out.

By the time Sunday rolled around, he couldn’t stay away.

He parked his bike a few blocks from the church, out of sight, and watched as families filed in for the morning service. They were all dressed in their Sunday best—dads in pressed suits, moms in floral dresses, kids squirming in their fancy clothes.

And then there she was, walking up the steps with her family. She wore a white dress that stopped just below her knees, her hair pulled back in a way that showed off the delicate line of her neck. The silver cross around her neck gleamed in the sunlight, and Max found himself staring at it, wondering what it would look like tangled with the chains he wore.

Her father was at her side, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder as he greeted the congregation. He was everything Max wasn’t—clean-cut, well-spoken, a man who commanded respect just by standing there.

Max stayed until the doors closed behind her, then turned and walked back to his bike.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he couldn’t just let it go. All he knew was that he’d see her again.

And when he did, he’d make her notice him.

Max didn’t plan to follow her after the service, not really. But when he saw her step out of the church alone, her family nowhere in sight, curiosity got the better of him. She walked with purpose, her hands clutching a small book—probably her Bible, he figured—and her expression calm, like she knew exactly where she was going.

He stayed a block or so behind, keeping his footsteps quiet on the pavement. She didn’t seem like the type to sneak off after church, and yet, here she was, turning off the main road and heading toward the park.

When she reached a shaded bench near the pond, she sat down, smoothing her dress before opening her book. Max hung back, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and began to read, her lips moving silently.

He couldn’t stop himself. Hands shoved in his pockets, he sauntered over, his boots crunching on the gravel path. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening for a moment before settling into something softer, almost expectant.

“I told my daddy I saw you,” she said, closing the book and resting it on her lap.

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what did he say?”

“That I shouldn’t hang around with people like you,” she replied simply, her voice steady, but her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the book.

He stepped closer, leaning down slightly so they were almost at eye level. “But I don’t see you running,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her expression unflinching. “I’ve noticed you, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re always… around. Outside the church. Watching.”

He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re hard to ignore.”

She blinked, her lashes fluttering like she wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—a small, hesitant thing that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

“I’ve been praying for you,” she said softly, her hands tightening on the book.

Max couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, low and rough. “Praying for me, huh? What for?”

“That you’ll find peace,” she said simply, her voice so earnest it made him pause.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way her fingers trembled just a little against the leather cover of her book, the way she seemed so fragile and so unshakable all at once.

“Peace,” he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue. “You think that’s something I’m missing?”

Her smile grew just a fraction, her eyes softening. “Don’t you?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to laugh it off, to brush her words aside like they didn’t hit somewhere deep and uncomfortable. But the way she was looking at him made it impossible.

She shifted slightly on the bench, her hands resting in her lap as she looked at him. “Everyone finds their way,” she said softly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction that made Max’s chest ache. “One way or another. You just have to be willing to see it.”

Max wanted to scoff, to tell her he didn’t have a “way” to find, but the words died in his throat when he noticed it—a faint bruise just below the cuff of her sleeve, barely visible as she adjusted the book in her lap. His eyes narrowed, the casual smirk on his face fading.

“What happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.

She followed his gaze, quickly tugging her sleeve down to cover the mark. “Oh, that?” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “It’s nothing. I play volleyball sometimes with the girls from church. Just got a little too close to the net.”

Max didn’t buy it. The way she spoke, the way her fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress—it didn’t add up. But he didn’t push. Not yet.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

She nodded quickly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Positive.”

The silence between them stretched, and Max could feel the distance growing, even though they were sitting inches apart.

“I should get home,” she said suddenly, standing and smoothing out her skirt. “It’s getting late.”

He watched as she picked up her book and slung her bag over her shoulder, the hesitant smile she gave him feeling more like a goodbye than a see-you-later.

“You walking?” he asked, standing as well.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

He didn’t offer to walk her, knowing she’d probably say no. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching her disappear down the path until she was out of sight.

The next Wednesday, Max found himself back at the church. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself—but when he saw her locking up the doors again, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching.

She glanced up as he stepped up to the doors, her face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and something softer that made his chest tighten.

“You’re here again,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head toward the doors. “Do you want to see the inside?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You offering to give me a tour?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small smile. “If you’re interested.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Show me.”

She unlocked the doors and pushed them open, leading him into the dimly lit sanctuary. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier than normal.

“This is where we hold services,” she said, gesturing toward the rows of wooden pews. “And over there is the choir loft.”

Max followed her, his eyes drifting over the stained-glass windows and the simple but elegant decor. It wasn’t the kind of place he ever pictured himself in, but being here with her made it feel… different.

“And where do you ask for forgiveness?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to her.

She paused, then turned and led him to the front of the church. “Here,” she said, motioning toward the altar. “This is where people kneel to pray.”

Max’s gaze flicked from the altar to her, and for a moment, he couldn’t help the thought that slipped into his mind. The idea of her on her knees, not in prayer but for him, sent a rush of something dark and hungry through him.

She knelt down, her hands clasped in front of her as if demonstrating. “You just… let it all out here. Whatever’s on your heart, you bring it to God.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her, his throat tightening as the image burned itself into his memory. He wondered, fleetingly, what she’d look like if she weren’t here for forgiveness but for him.

“You going to try?” she asked, looking up at him, her expression earnest and full of trust.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Not my thing,” he muttered, stepping back.

She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Maybe one day,” she said softly.

Max wasn’t so sure. But he’d come back, if only to see her again.

He didn’t ever think he’d see her in his stomping ground, ever.

The garage smelled like oil and metal, the kind of earthy, gritty scent that clung to Max no matter how much he scrubbed his hands. He was leaned under the hood of an old Chevy—her dad’s car—when he heard the soft jingle of the bell above the shop door.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as she stepped inside. Her presence was like sunlight cutting through the dim, grease-streaked world he lived in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the car and smirking. “Ain’t I usually the one picking you up?”

She stopped a few steps in, her hands clasping the strap of her bag. “I left some college work in my daddy’s car,” she said, her voice steady but careful, like she wasn’t sure how to navigate him in this setting.

Max raised an eyebrow, tossing the rag onto a workbench. “Well, aren’t you lucky I’ve got it right here.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the car before meeting his. “Can I…?”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the passenger door. “Be my guest.”

She nodded, walking over and leaning into the open door to retrieve her things. Max’s eyes flicked down before he could stop himself, catching a glimpse of her skirt riding up as she bent over, exposing plain white cotton panties that clung to her hips.

It was innocent, unintentional—but it made his pulse spike, his throat tightening as he quickly looked away. His hand clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to focus.

Then he saw it—a jagged gash on the side of her thigh, red and raw against her pale skin. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown as something twisted in his gut.

“You gonna tell me what happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

She froze for a moment before straightening, clutching her notebook tightly against her chest. “Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cut. “It’s nothing. I was playing with my brother in the park, and the ball rolled into some bushes. I went to get it and scratched myself on a branch.”

Max folded his arms, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “You’ve got an awful lot of bad luck, don’t you? First volleyball, now this.”

Her eyes darted to his, wide and a little panicked. “It’s the truth,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

He stepped closer, his presence looming as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “Lying’s a sin, you know.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But then her shoulders straightened, and she lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “I believe you should worry about the long list of sins you’ve racked up,” she shot back, her voice trembling but firm.

Max smirked at that, the sharp edge of his grin making her swallow hard. “I thought you were praying for me,” he said, his tone almost teasing but laced with something darker.

She stared at him, her hands tightening on her notebook until her knuckles turned white. “I should go,” she said finally, her voice clipped.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he replied, stepping back just enough to let her pass.

She turned and walked out, her steps quick and purposeful, the door swinging shut behind her with a jingle that felt louder than it should have.

Max watched her go, the tension in his chest twisting into something heavier. He didn’t believe her for a second. But the look in her eyes—the mix of fear, defiance, and something else he couldn’t quite name—made him want to figure out exactly what she was hiding.

And he would. One way or another.

A few days later, Max was leaning under the hood of yet another clunker when his manager strolled over, clipboard in hand.

“Got a favor to ask,” the older man grumbled. “Preacher’s too busy to pick up his car. Needs it dropped off at his place.”

Max straightened, rubbing his hands on a rag, his pulse quickening at the mention of her house. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“I’ll do it,” he said casually, masking the eagerness bubbling under his skin. “Got time.”

His manager raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Max tossed the rag aside, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “Consider it handled.”

By the time he pulled up to the preacher’s house in the old Chevy, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the house in a warm, golden light. He killed the engine, climbing out and leaning against the car for a moment.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound drifted through the open window—a soft, mournful piano melody that sent a shiver down his spine. It was beautiful, haunting even, and he knew immediately that it was her.

He stood there, listening, his chest tightening as each note seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t quite place. Then, as the song trailed off, he forced himself to move, stepping up to the door and knocking firmly.

The music stopped. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there she was.

She looked different. Vulnerable.

Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple pair of pyjamas—pale blue cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely on her frame. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Brought your dad’s car back.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

His eyes drifted lower, and that’s when he saw it—a dark, fresh bruise blooming along her forearm, just visible under the edge of her sleeve.

His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, his rough fingers brushing against the tender skin.

She flinched, but not away. Her lips parted, her eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and uncertain.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

She pulled her arm back, wrapping it around herself like a shield. “I’ve been sick,” she murmured, her words hesitant. “That’s why I’ve been home. Just… clumsy, I guess.”

He didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

“Sick, huh?” he said, his voice edged with scepticism.

She nodded, but the way her gaze darted to the floor gave her away.

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, charged with something neither of them seemed able to name. Max’s hand hovered at his side, aching to reach out again, but he forced himself to step back.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and Max turned just as her father appeared in the doorway.

“Evening,” the preacher said, his voice warm but commanding, his eyes flicking between Max and his daughter.

“Car’s good as new,” Max said, holding out the keys. “She’ll run smooth for you.”

“Appreciate it,” the preacher replied, taking the keys with a nod.

Max hesitated, glancing at her one last time. “You know where to find me if you need anything. Always here for you to rely on the car.”

His words were meant for her father, but his eyes stayed on her, making sure she understood the double meaning.

The preacher didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, son,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crisp bill. He handed it to Max with a firm handshake.

Max nodded, pocketing the tip without looking at it. As he stepped back, the preacher gave him a polite smile before closing the door firmly, leaving Max staring at the wood grain.

The following morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds of Max’s trailer, casting long shadows over the cluttered space. He was sprawled on his bed, one leg hanging off the side, barely awake when he heard it—a soft, hesitant knock at the door.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, the sound so light it could’ve been the wind rattling the screen. But then it came again, firmer this time.

Grumbling under his breath, Max swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He shuffled to the door in nothing but his boxers, too groggy to care about decency.

When he pulled the door open, he froze.

There she was, standing on the cracked wooden steps of his trailer.

She looked like she’d stepped out of another world—her crisp white blouse tucked into a pale blue skirt that swayed lightly in the breeze, her hair perfectly combed and pinned back. But her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, and there was a tremble in her lip that told him she’d been crying.

Her gaze flicked downward, catching sight of his bare chest and boxer-clad frame. Her face flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Max blinked, his grogginess evaporating in an instant. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the ground like she couldn’t meet his eyes. He stepped back, holding the door open wider. “You wanna come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping over the threshold.

As she entered, the contrast between her polished appearance and the rough, lived-in state of his trailer couldn’t have been starker. The cramped space was cluttered with tools, half-empty coffee mugs, and a laundry basket overflowing with clothes. She looked out of place, like a dove dropped into the middle of a storm.

Max closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself. “I… I didn’t want to stay at home,” she said quietly.

The way her voice cracked on the last word made his chest tighten.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping closer but keeping his distance, giving her space to speak.

She shook her head, her fingers gripping her bag tighter. “I… I snuck out,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew. He’d known for weeks.

Finally, she looked up at him, tears brimming in her wide, frightened eyes. “It’s my daddy,” she whispered. “He… he hits me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body going rigid. “How long’s this been going on?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

She looked away, her gaze darting to the corner of the room as if she could hide from the question. “As long as I can remember,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

Max swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to punch something, to drag her father out into the street and make him pay. But more than anything, he wanted to make her feel safe.

“You should’ve told someone,” he said, his voice softer now, though the anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Her eyes snapped back to his, a flash of fear and desperation in them. “I couldn’t,” she said quickly. “I can’t. If people knew, it’d ruin everything. My daddy’s the preacher. People look up to him. They’d never believe me.”

Max stepped closer, his rough hands itching to reach out and touch her, to ground her somehow. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to go back there,” he said firmly. “You can stay here. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Her gaze softened, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Why do you care so much?”

Max let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think I can just stand by and let this happen? After everything I’ve seen…” He paused, meeting her gaze head-on. “You’re not like the rest of us. You don’t belong in a place like that.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. She looked like she might say something, but then a tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said suddenly, backing toward the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering me,” Max said firmly, cutting her off.

She hesitated, her hand hovering near the door handle.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decide whether she could trust him. Finally, she nodded, just barely, and let her hand fall away from the door.

Max rubbed the back of his neck again, his eyes never leaving her face as she stood there, caught between leaving and staying. He could see the battle in her—wanting to run but needing something, someone, to anchor her.

“You can stay here tonight,” he said, his voice steady but gentle, like he was trying not to spook her.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. She looked around the cramped trailer, at the cluttered counters and the sagging couch, her delicate hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t know…” she started, her voice faltering.

“No one’ll bother you here,” Max said, stepping closer. “You’ll be safe. And if you want to leave in the morning, you can. No strings.”

She bit her lip, the hesitation etched in every line of her face.

“But…” she whispered, looking up at him, “I need to go to Sunday service.”

Max blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone.

“While I’m mad at my daddy,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, “I still have to go. I can’t not be there. It’s… it’s important to me.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet plea wrapped in conviction.

Max nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take you,” he said simply. “First thing in the morning.”

She blinked up at him, a flicker of relief crossing her features. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Scout’s honor.”

That drew a small, hesitant smile from her, though it quickly faded as her gaze dropped to the floor again.

“I’ll stay,” she said softly, almost like she didn’t believe the words herself.

Max exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “Good. Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the trailer. “It’s not much, but it’s better than where you came from.”

She nodded, her movements stiff and unsure, like she didn’t quite know how to exist in this space.

“I gotta get to work,” Max added, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Bed is yours, and there’s food in the fridge—though, fair warning, it’s mostly leftovers and beer.”

That earned him a faint, almost amused look, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

Max hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, careful, but firm enough to ground her.

“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice low but certain.

She nodded again, her gaze flicking up to meet his, and for a moment, the silence between them felt warm, comforting.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, stepping toward his makeshift bedroom grabbing some clothes and slipping them on. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me, alright? Danny down the road has my number, he’s got the graffiti all over his trailer.”

“Alright,” she replied, her voice steadier now.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Max stepped out into the morning light, the door clicking shut behind him. As he walked toward his beat-up car, a strange mix of emotions swirled in his chest—anger, protectiveness, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

She’d taken a risk coming to him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

Max worked through the afternoon with his head barely in the game. The thought of her in his trailer—his space—kept creeping into his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, looking so out of place, like she belonged somewhere far away from this rundown world he inhabited. The image of her soft eyes and trembling lip haunted him as he fixed engines and cleaned up at the shop.

By the time he came back to the trailer, the evening sun had already dipped behind the horizon, casting a pale, dusky glow over everything. He turned the key in the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet.

And then he froze.

The trailer didn’t look the same.

It was spotless.

The clutter on the counters, the dirty dishes, the laundry piled up in the corner—all of it was gone. The floor was swept, the counters wiped down, and there was even a faint smell of something cooking, something hearty and savory. Max took a step inside, his eyes scanning the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

And there she was, standing in the kitchen.

She had slipped into one of his old band t-shirts—black and faded with the edges curling up—and paired it with the skirt she’d worn earlier. Her hair was still down, a little messy from the day, but there was something about the way she moved around his space that made her seem... at ease. She was focused on the stove, stirring something in a pot, humming quietly to herself as if she belonged.

Max felt a sudden knot in his stomach, a wave of desire mixed with something deeper—something protective. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping down to her legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt, and then back up to her face. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in what she was doing, and he took a few moments to just watch her.

She looked so out of place in his world—his messy, cluttered world—but at the same time, she fit perfectly.

She caught sight of him, and a warm, almost shy smile spread across her face. "I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I found some stuff in the cupboard. It’s not much, but I thought… I could make you something."

Max’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea she could cook.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice rough with something unspoken. He stepped further into the trailer, noticing that she’d even made the bed. The blankets were neatly arranged, the pillow fluffed, the whole room looking like it belonged in some kind of hotel. It felt... new.

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's the least I could do. You’ve been so kind to me... I wanted to help, in some way."

Max ran a hand over his jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close. Her presence was intoxicating, her gentle kindness disarming. The way she stood there, so effortless in his space, made something inside him shift. His heart beat faster as he moved toward the kitchen, unable to resist the pull of her.

She turned back to the stove, unaware of the war going on inside him. He couldn’t help but glance at the way her shirt rode up on her thighs, the curve of her hips, and the soft skin of her exposed legs. His mind flashed to earlier—when she’d stepped into his trailer with those wide eyes, trembling and vulnerable. And now, she was here, looking like she belonged to him in ways she probably didn’t even realise.

His hands clenched at his sides. He needed to calm down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything up,” he said, trying to focus on something other than how badly he wanted to kiss her, touch her, feel her beneath his hands.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, her voice soft. “It felt wrong to just sit around, so I figured I could do something. It’s a mess here, but I… I wanted it to feel like home for a bit.”

Home.

The word hit him harder than he expected. Max didn’t know what it meant to feel at home. His life had always been a constant hustle, scraping by, living in his car, barely getting by. But here, with her, in the middle of this trailer—he felt like maybe he could understand it, just a little bit.

She stirred the pot again, and Max took a deep breath. His body was tight with the need to do something—to touch her, hold her—but he fought it down.

He stepped closer, casually leaning against the counter. “You sure you’re okay with all this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, casual.

She glanced at him, her eyes soft but unreadable. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing, her gaze steady. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared, Max.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. Her skin was soft, delicate, and his pulse skipped in response. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at him either.

Max leaned in just slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, in the quietest voice, almost as if she were speaking to herself, she whispered, “I believe you.”

And in that moment, something inside Max shifted completely. He didn’t just want her. He needed to protect her. To keep her from harm.

The tension in the air was thick, and he knew if he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. His hand lingered on hers for just a second longer before he pulled away, his heart pounding in his chest.

��Let’s eat,” he said, trying to mask the urgency in his voice, trying to ground himself again.

Max didn’t have a proper dining table—hell, he barely had enough room for his sofa—but tonight, that didn’t matter.

He took a seat on the old sofa, and she settled beside him, carefully placing the plates of food between them. The smell of whatever she’d made filled the air—something simple but satisfying, with just a hint of warmth that made it feel like a real meal. It was the first time in a while that Max had felt something other than hunger when he sat down to eat.

As she set her fork down and looked at her hands, she murmured something under her breath, her voice soft and steady. Max was halfway through a bite when he realised she was praying.

He watched her quietly, noting the calmness in her demeanor, the way her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her lips moved with the words, a quiet reverence that made the air in the room feel still, almost sacred.

When she finished, she looked at him, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s just… habit.”

Max shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No need to apologise,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He found it cute—no, charming—how she prayed before every meal, how that simple act of faith seemed to give her some semblance of peace. He had no idea what that kind of peace felt like.

They ate quietly, the sound of forks scraping against plates the only noise between them. There was something almost intimate about this simple moment—the way she sat beside him, the way she kept her space but still seemed to fill the room.

It wasn’t long before Max’s mind started to wander again, and his gaze drifted down to her hand as she picked up her glass of water. He noticed the ring on her finger, the simple silver band catching the light.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, though his stomach clenched slightly.

She looked down at it, almost absentmindedly, before meeting his gaze. “It’s a purity ring,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent.

Max froze, his fork half-raised to his mouth. A purity ring. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, a wave of something dark and primal swirling beneath the surface. She wore it like a promise, a promise to stay pure, to wait for marriage, to avoid the kinds of things he’d spent most of his life seeking out—things he wasn’t sure he could even offer her if she wanted them.

His thoughts scrambled, his chest tightening. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and shifted on the couch, trying to ignore the tightening in his jeans. He couldn’t help himself. The idea of her—innocent, pure, wearing a ring like that—drove him mad. It made him think things he shouldn’t, things that went against the very core of who she was.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. “I, uh… I think you should take the bed,” he said abruptly. “I’ll crash here on the couch.”

She gave him a soft look, her expression kind, though there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t used to accepting charity—or favours of any kind.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at the bed and then back at him.

She stood up, taking both their plates to the sink and left him in the makeshift living room.

Max settled back onto the small couch, but sleep didn’t come easy. He was restless, his mind too filled with thoughts of her, her innocence, her sweetness, and that damn purity ring. Even though there was a whole doorframe separating the two of them, the room felt too small. His chest too tight. His body too aware of everything that was happening in that tiny space between them.

Eventually, he shifted again, sighing in frustration as he tossed the blanket off of himself. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was too small for someone his size. He needed to stretch out.

A few minutes later, he heard the soft creak of the floorboards. He turned his head slightly, squinting through the dim light. She was standing in the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of his beside table.

“Max?” Her voice was soft, tentative.

He sat up, blinking. “Yeah?”

“I—uh, I can’t sleep,” she admitted, stepping further into the room. “And you look... uncomfortable on the couch.” She hesitated, then bit her lip. “Would you, um, want to sleep in the bed with me? Just... just for tonight?”

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He should’ve said no. He knew he should’ve. But she was standing there in his shirt, her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and her eyes—those soft, uncertain eyes—were pleading with him in a way that made him feel like he was the one who needed her comfort.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tight.

She nodded, her hands trembling just slightly as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please. I just—” She paused, biting her lip, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Max’s heart twisted in his chest. He could’ve said something else—told her it was fine, that she should rest, or something like that. But he was done with pretending he didn’t want to be close to her, to feel her next to him.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “But, uh... let me put on a shirt.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he could’ve sworn he saw the smallest flicker of a smile on her lips. “Okay,” she whispered, turning her back to give him some space.

He grabbed a random shirt from the pile of clean laundry on the floor, pulling it on over his bare chest, and then slipped under the covers beside her. She had already crawled under the blankets, pulling them tightly around her.

Max settled in beside her, keeping a careful distance at first. But the bed was small, and it didn’t take long for her to inch closer. He could feel her warmth at his side, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the delicate scent of her hair mixing with the familiar scent of his worn sheets.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the trailer, casting a soft glow across the room. Max slowly woke up, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her soft breathing filling the quiet room.

For a moment, Max just stayed still, letting the comfort of her closeness wash over him. His arm had instinctively wrapped around her while they slept, and he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

But as his body began to wake up fully, so did a familiar discomfort: the pressure of his morning problem, straining against the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught, and he tried to shift subtly, hoping she wouldn’t wake up and notice the situation. She didn’t. She just remained nestled against him, her breath slow and steady.

Max let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the growing tension in his body. He kept his arm around her for a moment longer, relishing the softness of her against him, before reluctantly moving it.

Her movements eventually stirred him from his thoughts, though. He felt her shift and heard her small, quiet sigh as she began to stir. She slowly pushed herself up and away from him, the weight of her head leaving his chest.

Max watched as she stood up, stretching lightly before walking toward the small kitchen area. The simple act of her moving around his trailer felt domestic, a little surreal. He never imagined a girl like her would be here, in his space, making herself at home.

She turned on the old coffee maker and started washing the dishes from the night before, humming softly to herself. Her bare feet moved across the worn linoleum floor as she worked, picking up the plates, scrubbing them clean with a kind of focused determination. Max watched her, a little mesmerised by the way she went about everything with ease. She was so domestic, so... pure.

After a while, she glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said quietly. “I usually make something nice on a Sunday.”

Max shook his head, trying to get his bearings. “I don’t mind at all.” His voice was still rough with sleep. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly and got to work, preparing eggs, toast, and whatever else she could find in his meager supplies. Max sat up, rubbing his eyes. He watched her as she moved, the way her shirt clung to her in all the right places, how she seemed so comfortable here despite how out of place she looked in his world.

Eventually, she finished up with the dishes and turned to him. “I need to get ready for church.” Her eyes softened a little, as though she could sense the hesitation in his. “Can y—“

“I’ll take you. I just don’t have a car right now. It’s in the garage.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a moment, Max thought she might protest, but instead, she just nodded. “Okay.”

He took a quick shower and threw on some old jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t exactly have a wardrobe that screamed “church-going,” but it was the best he could do. He wasn’t there to make a statement anyway—just to get her there and make sure she was safe.

When he stepped out of the small bathroom, he found her already dressed in her Sunday best—yesterday’s shirt and skirt with a cardigan she must have pulled out her bag. Her hair was perfectly styled, like she’d just walked out of a church bulletin. She looked so out of place in his trailer, so polished and pristine compared to the worn, dirty space they were in.

Max grabbed his helmet and walked over to her, holding it out. “Here,” he said, the words laced with a slight smirk. “You’re gonna need this.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t argue. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You’re not walking to church, and you’re definitely not riding behind me without it.” He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

With a small, reluctant smile, she took the helmet from him, adjusting it over her head, the loose strands of her hair sticking out slightly. Max handed her the extra jacket he had and then motioned to the door. “Let’s get going. I’ll get you there early so no one sees you.”

She nodded, slipping on the jacket and walking toward the door with him. Max grabbed the keys to his bike and headed outside, securing the helmet on her head.

The engine of his old bike roared to life, the sound rattling the air around them. Max felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the wind in his face as they drove, but his focus wasn’t on the speed or the feel of the bike. It was on her, sitting behind him, her body pressed close to his, the weight of her on his back both grounding and electrifying him.

They took the back roads, keeping a low profile, making sure no one would notice them together. Max didn’t want to bring any attention to her. He didn’t want anyone to see her with him, not yet. She was too pure, too innocent to be caught up in his world.

They arrived just before everyone else, the small church looming in front of them as the sun began to rise. Max parked the bike in the back and cut the engine, then turned to look at her.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said softly, slipping off the bike.

Max nodded, watching her walk toward the steps of the church, her figure straight and composed. As she walked away from him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—something he couldn’t quite name. It was a mix of jealousy, admiration, and something darker that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He didn’t know why he stayed in the parking lot. Maybe it was the quiet that clung to the air after the service ended, or maybe it was the feeling of something unfinished between him and her. He waited, watching as the congregation filed out of the church, families chatting, some with smiles on their faces, others with the weight of the week still on their shoulders.

He saw her mother, walking alongside her brother, exchanging a few words with the other churchgoers. But no sign of her. His gaze swept over the parking lot once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she had stayed behind for a little longer.

Minutes passed, and Max’s unease grew. She hadn’t come out.

Frowning, he swung his leg off the bike and walked toward the church’s front doors. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to check on her, but something in him insisted. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if sensing danger.

Max approached the side of the church, his boots scraping the gravel beneath him. A faint voice reached his ears—just a whisper at first, but then it grew louder, more frantic. It sounded like shouting, distorted by the walls of the building, but it was unmistakably hers.

His heart skipped a beat.

He moved quickly toward the sound, pushing open a side door. The hallway inside was dimly lit, the walls cold and echoing with every step. He followed the noise, barely hearing his own footsteps as he crept closer to the source.

And then he saw them.

She was on the floor, her hands trembling in front of her, her back hunched as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Her father was standing over her, his voice a low growl of fury, loud enough to rattle the air between them.

“You’re a dirty slut!” he spat. “You’re going to hell for what you’ve done!”

Max’s blood ran cold, and for a moment, he didn’t think.

With a quick motion, he stepped forward, his voice calm but cold. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The preacher spun around, his face twisted with rage, recognizing Max.

“Stay out of this, boy,” the preacher growled, his hand still raised in the air.

But before the preacher could make another move, she stood up, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—hope? Maybe it was desperation.

Without a second thought, she ran toward Max. She didn’t hesitate, her arms reaching out to him as if he were her only anchor in the storm.

“Max,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear, but Max felt the weight of it all the same.

Max put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so that she was standing slightly behind him. His eyes never left the preacher, his voice steady.

“You know, preacher,” Max began, his voice low and measured, “God loves justice and establishes equity.” He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling something. “Psalm 99:4, right? I’m sure that’s a scripture I heard your daughter read once in Bible study. Can’t be exerting your authority in such ways, can you?”

The preacher’s face went red with anger, his hands balling into fists. “Get out of here, boy. This is none of your business.”

Max didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “It’s none of my business. But I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

He motioned to her. “Go wait by the bike.” His voice softened just for her, the harshness fading away. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated for just a moment, looking at him like she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and walked quickly toward the door. Max watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest.

The preacher made a move to stop her, but Max stepped forward, his patience snapping.

“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Max growled.

The preacher lunged at him, but Max was faster, his fist connecting with the preacher’s jaw before he had a chance to land a blow. The sound of the punch echoed in the small hallway, and the preacher staggered backward, his hands gripping the edge of the wall for support.

Max stepped forward, his voice cold. “I don’t care who you think you are. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The preacher was on his knees now, his face a mixture of shock and fury. Max didn’t wait to hear more. He turned on his heel, walking out the door to find her standing by his bike, waiting as if she hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a storm.

He nodded to her, not saying anything more, his mind racing with the anger he’d just unleashed. But all he wanted now was to get her away from here, away from him.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, handing her the helmet.

She didn’t say anything as she put it on, but the silent understanding between them spoke volumes. Max revved the engine, feeling the rush of power beneath him as he led her away from the church, away from the hell that had just erupted there.

The ride back to the trailer was eerily quiet. Max could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and heavy, the weight of everything that had just happened hanging between them. She sat behind him, her grip tight on his waist, but there was no laughter, no playful banter like there had been before. It felt like the world had shifted somehow, and the silence stretched endlessly as they rode.

Max didn’t glance back at her. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road, but all he could think about was what he’d just done. He knew he’d put himself in danger, confronting her father like that. He didn’t care. But for the first time, he couldn’t ignore the burning question: What did he really think he was doing?

The only sound on the road was the roar of the engine beneath them, a constant reminder of the distance they had yet to travel. Every twist and turn of the road seemed to reflect the turmoil inside of him, but he had no words for it, no way to express the chaos in his head.

When they finally pulled into the trailer park, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the worn pavement. Max parked the bike and cut the engine, the sudden silence of the world around them making the tension between them all the more palpable.

They didn’t speak as they walked inside, the door creaking as it opened into the small, dimly lit space. Max stepped aside to let her enter first, but the moment the door closed behind them, she removed the helmet and her composure seemed to crumble.

She stood there for a long moment, just breathing, as if she was trying to collect herself, but it was clear she wasn’t okay. Max watched her, his heart tightening when he saw the tears beginning to well in her eyes. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Before he could say anything, she collapsed into him. Her body shook as she buried her face against his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. Max’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his own breath shaky from the unexpected surge of emotion he felt at seeing her so broken.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’ve got you, shhh.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to cry, the sound raw and heartbreaking. Max gently ran his hand down her back, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. He wiped the tears off her face with his thumb, brushing her hair back from her forehead. His chest tightened with every sob that wracked her body, every quiet sob that he couldn’t take away.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly, though his words felt powerless against the pain she was clearly feeling. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it, sweetheart.”

She pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face making his chest ache even more. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, a rawness that shook him to his core. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. He could see everything in her expression, the hurt and confusion and fear.

Without a word, Max guided her to the small bed in the corner of the trailer, not sure what else to do. He wanted to fix everything, to make her feel safe, but he knew that wasn’t something he could do with words alone.

They sat on the edge of the bed, and she let him help her lie down. He crawled in next to her, his arm draping over her shoulders as she curled up against him. The space felt small, but it was warm. She was warm.

Max didn’t say anything as he laid beside her, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He just held her. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet, like the calm after the storm, both of them lost in the stillness of the moment.

Her breathing eventually slowed, her sobs quieter now, though her body still trembled slightly from the emotions that had flooded her. Max stayed close, not letting go. His fingers gently traced the outline of her arm as he held her close, not knowing exactly what to say to make it better, but knowing that being there, holding her, was enough—for now.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his voice soft and unwavering, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not anymore.”

Then a weird thought came to Max as he watched hee sleep in his arms.

She’d prayed for his peace.

And while he wasn’t a believer.

He sure as hell felt at peace.

part two out now!

760 notes · View notes

k3n-dyll · 5 months ago

Text

☆Strawberry Crush

Warnings...18+, wlw, loser!Ellie, fem!reader, a few reader descriptions based on the song (lipgloss, nails - nothing body/skin/hair-wise), Ellie is...kind of a stalker, honestly?, porn with a plot, submasc!Ellie, domfem!reader, Ellie is really eager and awkward, sloppy kisses, food play? (strawberry juice is involved), fingering (r!receiving), face sitting, sixty nine

Word Count:3.2k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ Kinda hate this but I've had this damn song in my head for fucking weeks and I needed to write something about it (Spotify link in title).Should have done this when my theme was red but fuck it

Ellie's green eyes flit carelessly over the obviously bruised and beaten-up avocado in her hand, turning the bulbous fruit around over and over again as if she's truly considering buying the pitiful thing. There's a slight feeling of mushiness to it that kind of makes the hairs on her arms stand up - whatever poor fuck decides to pick this thing up once she puts it back in its crate is bound to find nothing but brown sludge on the inside.

Each turn of the overripened avocado is accompanied by a 'subtle' look around the market, her gaze fixing to the door each time the little rusted brown bell at the top of the doorframe jingles.

It'd be so embarrassing if she mixed up the time.

Not that this isn't humiliating enough already. Pathetic, even. No one in their right mind drives thirty minutes from home to look this hard, and for this long at an avocado.

On about the fifth bell ring in three minutes she can feel herself getting impatient. Today was Monday, Ellie was sure of that - the farmers from downtown had surely brought freshly picked batches of fruit and vegetables already unless something had gone awry. Maybe she should just head home and stop acting like a fucking crazy person. It's not like the average person keeps on schedule to a T every week. And even if they did, it's worrying that Ellie even knows that schedule. At least this part of it anyway.

Ellie juggles with the thought for a moment but ultimately decides to leave, placing the unfortunate-looking avocado back in its crate. It's just then when that annoying little bell dings again. She knows she shouldn't get her hopes up and yet she can't seem to help herself, looking toward the farmers market entrance to discern who it was that triggered the movement of the brass bell.

The thought that she was just about to leave makes Ellie's stomach turn. She'd have missed you completely. But just like clockwork, every Monday morning, you're here. And just like clockwork, every Monday morning, she gets to see you.

Ellie has given herself every excuse as to why her little habit isn't creepy. She's just trying to hype herself up to actually talk to you, and somehow during that time she also managed to figure out the exact schedule for when fresh produce is brought to this specific market so that she could catch you every Monday doing what you usually do. Buying strawberries.

You like those a lot.

Or, Ellie assumes you do. Why else would you buy them so religiously? Every Monday you come to buy strawberries. Various other things as well but she's noticed you take your time with the berries in particular - inspecting the fruit in each little green basket for at least a few minutes before finding one or two little baskets to buy and take home with you.

Ellie's practiced how to approach you in the mirror in her apartment before leaving the house more times than she'd like to admit, cringing at every little stutter and awkward phrase.

"You come here often?" No. Who the fuck even says that in real life? "So you like strawberries?" Well, duh.

It looks so simple in shows. Her friends make it look like nothing. Then there's Ellie. Reciting cliche lines from movies.

Not that any of that really matters though. Normally by the time you've gone up to check out your items, Ellie has already managed to convince herself that she lost her chance.

Maybe next time

Next time, for sure. But definitely not this time, no. This time she's too distracted by how delicious you look; the sway of your hips, the pretty smile you flash to the staff, the glittery pink tinted gloss spread carefully across your lips.

Your nails are red today, coming to a rounded point.

Ellie's tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip as her mind wanders. Those nails would make such pretty streaks in her back.

For some reason, the thought that she may be shamelessly staring at you doesn't cross her mind. Until it's too late that is. Ellie's eyes widen in absolute terror when your gaze catches hers, face dropping back to the crate of avocados she'd been pretending to look through a moment ago.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She definitely can't approach you today. Not after you'd caught her staring - no - gawking at you so blatantly. In fact, getting out of this godforsaken market has shot to the very top of her priority list, a task she seeks to accomplish quickly, with her head downcast in shame and embarrassment.

It's just her luck that instead of effectively making it out of the door she stumbles over the dragging, unraveled white laces of the run-down sneakers on her feet, toppling to the floor if not for the similarly misfortuned person she winds up tackling.

"Shit! Sorry, sorry, I-I'm so sorry" she stutters out, cringing at the sight of once unbruised red fruit hitting the hard tile of the market floor. Her eyes meet yours and again she's frozen and embarrassed, a deep shade of red splaying her freckled cheeks and tips of her ears. You would be angry if it weren't for how cute she looked. You sigh.

"It's fine, really. Just...make sure you look forward next time you're walking, okay?" The soft, reassuring smile you offer her as you speak damn near melts her where she stands.

"Right."

There's a beat of awkward silence, Ellie nervousely tugging at her ring and pinky fingers as she gives you a small hesitant nod. "I should-"

"Maybe you could help me pick out some new ones?" You ask quickly, interrupting her, gesturing to the strawberry littered tile.

It's the first time she's spoken to you and given her clear anxiety, she likely wouldn't end up speaking to you on her own again. Ellie nods quickly, mouth slightly agape, though at this point she's lost all of her words. She simply picks up the dropped berries, some of which are now a little flattened and soft on one side from the impact, standing straight once they're all gathered to help you get new baskets.

"You okay?" You ask, as Ellie hasn't said much of anything in the past few minutes.

"Oh, yeah...sorry just...a lot on my mind" she murmurs, quieting back down again as she attentively unpacks your produce.

She doesn't even know how she wriggled her way into this situation. She'd thought for sure you'd call her a freak or a psycho when you let her know you were aware of her little routine. Instead, you just suggested that she help you with the rest of your groceries.

"It's a bit of a hassle trying to bring them up to my apartment alone. Plus...you kinda owe me for the tackle, yeah?"

You had feared the boldness of your invitation may give her pause but Ellie agreed without reluctance.

"A lot on your mind? Like what?"

"Like...how you don't seem unnerved about...y'know." Ellie murmurs, leaning up against your kitchen counter, the little giggle you give in response sending her heart rate up.

"I was honestly just waiting to see if you would actually come speak to me"

"Wait, really?"

You turn to her from where you were organizing things in your fridge, a small bowl of freshly washed strawberries in hand. You set it down, gently sliding the bowl out toward Ellie as an invitation to take one, which she accepts, twisting at the leaves until they come off of the top before biting into it. It's quite large, and very sweet she notices, a bit of juice dribbling down her chin as her teeth sink in, her hand clumsily going to guard any more from falling down.

"Yeah." you answer, to which Ellie raises a questioning eyebrow.

"You're cute, Ellie." you clarify, playfully rolling your eyes at her obliviousness. " And messy"

Before she realizes it, you're in front of her, holding a napkin to her now berry juice-stained chin and neck, readying yourself to pat her dry. Your lips are incredibly close, dangerously so, but she does her best to ignore it, popping the rest of strawberry into her mouth before gently taking your hand in hers to stop you.

"I can- "

"Just let me, okay?" You chuckle a bit, shaking your head. "You really don't know when a girl is trying to flirt with you, huh?"

Ellie blinks, staring at you as if you've just said something ridiculous, her fruit filled cheek almost making her look like a chipmunk in the moment. The insistence on cleaning her up, the invitation to your apartment in the first place, the fact that you don't even seem to question her infatuation with you. It all makes sense now. And she'd taken way too long to notice.

There isn't a thought process behind Ellie's actions this time, just impulse as she leans forward, closing the distance between you both and crashing her lips onto yours. A shiver of shock runs through her as you reciprocate, regardless of how unideal the kiss may seem - cold, sticky fruit juice now being shared between the both of you, creating a thin coat of strawberry and saliva on your connected lips flowing down your chins and slowly making its way to the collars of your shirts.

Ellie pulls back enough to actually swallow what's left of the strawberry and breathe out a quick "I'm sorry", though a part of her is too fascinated by the look of you with transparent red fluid trailing along your skin to be genuinely apologetic.

"I don't mind a little mess." You whisper in response, swiping your thumb along her chin to collect some of the juic. Something about the girl being so desperate to kiss you that she was unconcerned about the inevitable messy nature of said kiss put butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You keep her pressed up against your kitchen counter as you allow yourself to give in to your desires, only dethatching your kiss-swollen lips from Ellie's to press opened mouth kisses along the column of her throat, licking at the sweet red liquid that's almost managed to make its way into the loose, black wifepleaser she's wearing.

"Y-you don't think this is happening too fast?" she questions, despite her clear willingness to let you do as you please, her words coming out between heavy breaths, her entire face painted a rosy shade of pink.

"Would you like me to stop?" You ask, eyebrow quirked upward as you halt your advances and look at her.

Ellie shakes her head immediately at that, tightening her grip around your waist. She can't help but think that was an idiotic question for her to ask anyways. This is finally her chance, and she refuses to fuck up by overthinking everything as she has been up until this point. Your lips connect again with no second guesses this time, Ellie taking her opportunity to slip her hands underneath your top, pulling it over your head. Her mouth takes to your skin, sloppily lapping at the strawberry juice flowing along your neck and pulling your bra straps down enough to expose your breasts.

"Fuck, Ellie"

You slip your leg between her thighs while she's occupied with "cleaning you up" with her tongue, reveling at the way she whimpers and attempts to resist the urge to roll her hips when your knee makes contact with her clothed cunt. Her attempts prove futile, of course, the poor girl huffing and moaning against your skin as she grinds herself against your leg.

"So fuckin' needy, weren't you?" You tease, unable to help the amused laugh that escapes you at the sight of the girl humping desperately at your knee.

All Ellie manages in response is a nod, whining even louder when you press against her harder, the seam of her shorts pushing up against her clit at the right angle, her movements becoming faster and more erratic.

"G'na make me cu- fuck fuck" Ellie's muscles tense for a moment before releasing again, short, ragged breaths and muffled grunts punctuating her last few thrusts against your leg as she finishes in her boxers. Embarrassed, she buries her face into the crook of your neck, her already blushed face becoming redder at her unintended quickness.

"Shit...sorry" She murmurs against your skin, not sure if she should even look you in the eye right now.

You stifle a giggle and shake your head, running your fingers through her soft, auburn hair as a means to reassure her before lacing your fingers with hers. With your free hand, you lift her chin so that she looks at you.

"It's okay. Doesn't mean I'm finished with you."

The softness of your tone seems to soothe her, though the bashfulness still lingers on her features, green eyes casting downward regardless of your words. You press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, and, fingers still intertwined, lightly tug her away from the kitchen counter on her wobbly legs over to the loveseat in your living room.

You lightly jerk your head in the direction of the sofa, letting go of her hand once she's seated. "Lay down for me baby"

Ellie, in all of her eagerness doesn't so much as hesitate, laying back onto the soft cushions, reaching out as if to pull you down with her. Instead of straddling her like she'd wanted you to though, you stay standing, a mischvieous giggle escaping as you lean down to kiss her on the lips once more before pulling back.

"What's wrong?" She asks, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Nothing El. Just relax, yeah?" You murmur in response, hands now focused on slipping off your shorts. That's answer enough for her, Ellie's eyes widening a little bit as they fixate on watching your lower body, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as you pull off your shorts and panties in one go. You were soaked, and you make sure to let her know it, teasingly trailing a finger through your folds before pressing it to her lips, Ellie gladly sucking the digit into her mouth without instruction.

"Aw, look at that, I didn't even have to ask"

Ellie just nods, pink lips still caught around your finger. She's well aware of how pathetic she looks right now, but she can't bring herself to care at this point as she's too busy savoring the taste of you on her tongue, eyes damn near rolling to the back of her head off that alone. When you take your finger out of her mouth she whines.

"Wanna taste you more... please"

Her pleading pulls a chuckle from your throat, your finger gently running across her bottom lip as you speak.

"God, you're so impatient, baby. Does my sweet girl want my pussy in her mouth, hm?"

She nods vigorously, grabbing at your hand again to pull you toward her. This time, you oblige, allowing the girl to guide you to sit on her face, her slender hands catching around your hips. She licks a bold stripe along your slit before pressing a kiss to your clit, the amount of times she's thought about doing that exact thing noe finally coming into practice.

Ellie eats at you like a woman starved, lapping up every drop of your arousal, her lips latching around your swollen clit and sucking at it. The sloppy, wet noises coming from her mouth on your cunt, the muffled moaning and whining escaping her - it's obnoxious. But it's the sexiest thing you've seen ina while, her gaze never leaving you as she buries herself closer to you. "This what you wanted, isn't it baby? Spent so much time watching me 'n all you could think about - fuck - was having that pretty mouth pressed up against my cunt like this?"

Your teasing is condescening, your hand tangling into her short locks, forcing her head nice and close as you rut yourself against her tongue. The poor thing can't stop herself from squirming, pressing her thighs together, and for a moment, even detatching a hand from your thigh and snaking it down her own body to slip her hand into her shorts. You don't notice it at first, but when you do, it's clear to her you aren't having it.

"Nuh-uh, none of that, pretty girl." You lift up into a hover above her head, reaching back and wrapping your hand around her wrist to stop her. She whines again, her frustration obvious in the line that forms between her brows. "You wanna ask this time?"

"S-sorry, you're just so fucking sexy, I need you to touch me, please"

You have half a mind to make her wait longer. To pin her hands over her head and prop yourself back onto her mouth, but an idea comes to mind that you can't just ignore. You giggle, giving her a simple 'okay' and before she knows it you've shifted on top of her, settling yourself into a hover over her face again, but this time facing the opposite direction. She can't see what your doing, but she feels it when you start sliding her shorts and boxers down before leaning down and spitting on her already glistening cunt.

"Oh my fucking god..."

Ellie's thighs are shaking around your head already, her hands gripping at the fat of your ass as she pulls you back down onto her mouth. Your muffled cries of pleasure fill the apartment, the vibrations from her moans against you only serving to drive you insane. A thin layer of sweat coats your bodies as you chase a simultaneous orgasm, hips bucking and rolling against each others tongues with primal urgency as that familiar coil tightens within your lower stomachs.

"Fuckfuckfuck- coming, I'm coming" Ellie's mouth detatches from you as she's the first to go, her trembling legs clamping around your head and trapping you against her. She's shockingly quick to replace her mouth with her fingers, slipping them inside of you without warning. She's almost as despereate to have you cum on her face as she was to cum herself, and to her luck, you unravel above her soon after. Her mouth comes back to you are you finish, lapping up every single drop of cum you give her, fingers still lazily pumping in and out of your dripping hole.

It takes a bit to float back down to reality, your head resting limp on her thigh as you slowly start to catch your breath, twitching and shaking too much to actually move on your own. Ellie's not much better, her head plopped down onto the couch cushion, gently kneading your ass with her hands and pressing sleepy kisses to your inner thighs. When you're finally able to move, it's not much, only adjusting yourself enough so that your faces are level, nuzzling your body close so that you can both lay next to each other on the couch. There's a peacful silence between the both of you for a while, your foggy brains still processing how far you'd gotten with one another in the span of a few hours.

"So...you really like me then? Like actually?" Ellie breathes out, a hand lightly rubbing along your side.

You laugh and give her a playful punch to the arm, the fact that she even felt the need to ask that almost comical to you after everything.

"Ow! What was that for?" She asks, feigning as if the light hit actually hurt.

"Of course I like you, dummy" You murmur, kissing her cheek. "I've liked you the whole time"

Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,

#☆kennie's works #lesbian #tlou2 #wlw #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #loser!ellie #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #the last of us 2 #ellie williams #tlou ellie

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mamath · 17 days ago

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This year it's Boxfox's 10th (tenth!!!!) Anniversary! Hard to believe. This silly little cubular fox going viral on the 12th of November 2014 on Tumblr kind of changed my life a bit?? I dunno. It was big for me.

Anyway, perfect time for a couple of new colours for the Boxfox plush lineup! "Kitsune"-style and Black boxfoxes are now available in my shop! They debuted at Tails of Terror last weekend and I'll have them at Supanova Brisbane this week and into the future! Very exciting. :)

Unfortunately I'm fully out of orange boxfoxes and very low stock of the red boxfoxes so...ya know. I just can't juggle full stock of everything at once. ^^

These are available online at my Shopify shop now! Check them out! They make might fine Xmas gifts for the silly fox fan in your life! :3c

#boxfox #plush toy #indie toy #I still want to make giant boxfoxes too...#I worry that no one cares any more though so idk we'll see how these go first!! How would I store giant boxfoxes?? A logistical nightmare #Actually I have ideas about that but anyway they're not 2024 ideas

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elikajinnie · 24 days ago

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How Can I Choose?

P: Roommates!Heeseung & Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Bonding, Alcohol Drinking, Clubbing, Teasing like LOT of teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Suggestive Content (i mean it), they both kinda whipped for you, Ambigious Ending.

Synopsis: After months of crashing on friends' couches, you finally find a cheap apartment, only to realize your new roommates—Heeseung and Jake—both have feelings for you. As flirtation turns into tension, you must navigate the complexities of living together while deciding how to handle their surprising willingness to share you.

a/n: boaf. baof? BOAF! -- i HOPE the link of the drawing i made of the apartment is accessible! pls tell me if it isnt. anyways! i got this idea in the shower and fried my brain by writing it in the span of a few hours :) SO PLSSS DONT MIND HOW STUPID IT IS.

-----

You stand in front of a tall, gray apartment building, boxes and suitcases piled around you. One of your friends had been kind enough to drive you and your stuff to this new place, and as their car drives away, you're left with a sense of excitement. This is your chance to finally find some stability after a long stretch of uncertainty.

There’s an excitement buzzing in your chest, but a trace of exhaustion lingers. For weeks, you’ve been crashing on friends' couches, juggling multiple jobs, and the demands of school alongside the perpetual search for somewhere—anywhere—to land.

Finally, though, things seemed to be turning around. Just days ago, you’d been clocked in for a slow shift at the convenience store, trying to squeeze in some schoolwork behind the counter.

With only a handful of customers trickling in over the hours, you found yourself browsing for rental listings once you had finished your assignments.

Luck seemed to be on your side that day. The first ad you saw was for an apartment close to the city, with a store nearby and plenty of bus stops in the area. It was perfect. The listing described a single room available in a decently sized apartment, affordable and ideally located. The ad was put up by someone named Sim Jaeyun, who had a picture of a cute dog as his profile picture but no other personal information.

You scrolled through the pictures of the apartment, noting its clean, functional layout. The description specified the need for a tenant who was clean, could cook for themselves, wasn't excessively loud, and could pay rent on time. You nodded, realizing you met all those criteria, and sent in your request without hesitation.

As you close your laptop that day, a customer walks in, and you go back to your duties, hoping that this will be the break you've been waiting for. The prospect of finally unpacking your suitcase for good after moving out from your parents' house was a comforting thought that kept you going.

Now, standing at the building’s entrance, you can’t help but feel a small, hopeful thrill. You walk towards the door and pull your focus to the side panel by the intercom and scan for the familiar name: Jaeyun. But your eyes catch something else—Jake and Heeseung. You tilt your head, curious. Jake was the name you’d come to know him by in your recent conversations, the person who’d warmly accepted your request and walked you through what to expect. You hadn’t known there was another roommate. With a shrug, you figure it’s something you’ll ask him about once you’re inside. Pressing the buzzer, you wait.

A few seconds later, a soft buzz sounds, and the door clicks open. You place a wooden doorstop to prop it open and start bringing in your belongings, piling up suitcases and boxes just inside the entrance. The elevator dings, drawing your attention as the doors slide open, revealing a man stepping out. His dark hair falls casually around his glasses, framing a face both handsome and warm. His clothes are neat but relaxed, hanging comfortably on his frame, and his easy smile grows wider when he spots you.

“Hey! You must be the new tenant,” he greets, extending a hand as he reaches you. “I’m Jake.”

You introduce yourself with a grunt, and he nods, giving a friendly chuckle before he glances down at the boxes and bags. “Let me help you with that.” With his help, it doesn’t take long for you to gather your belongings into the elevator.

Once all your things are inside, Jake presses the button for the third floor, and the elevator doors glide shut with a soft hum. He turns to you, slipping easily into what sounds like a well-rehearsed rundown of apartment essentials.

“So, first thing,” he says, glancing over at you with a friendly smile, “I’ll get you a key for the front door. And the apartment itself has a digital lock, so I’ll give you the code as well. We usually change it every few months, just to be safe.”

You nod, taking it all in as he continues.

“The laundry room is in the basement. It’s shared with a few other units, but it’s usually pretty quiet. Most people don’t do laundry until the weekends, so if you want some quiet time down there, mid-week is best.” He gives a quick chuckle. “Also, there's a schedule sheet down there if you want to block off a time.”

As the elevator rises, he ticks off other small details—the garbage room is down the hall, recycling day is every Tuesday, and there’s a spot by the door for your shoes, since he prefers to keep the place tidy. It’s all practical, straightforward, and reassuring.

As he speaks, you think back to the other name on the door panel and decide to ask. “So… Heeseung?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a good friend,” Jake replies, giving a small nod. “He’s crashing with me. His schedule is intense, so you won’t see much of him unless there’s something big planned. But he’s a good guy—you’ll like him.”

You nod in understanding, unable to keep the fleeting thought that if Jake looks this good, Heeseung might be just as handsome.

The elevator dings, signaling that you’ve arrived. Jake reaches down, effortlessly lifting a heavy box as he steps into the hallway. He walks to door 3F, punches in the code, and holds the door open as you step into your new apartment.

The first thing that strikes you is the openness of the space. Sunlight filters in through large windows, illuminating the clean, modern living room. A spacious couch faces an oversized TV, framed by soft, neutral-colored walls and minimal decor that gives it a cozy feel. Further in, to the right, lies an open kitchen and dining area. There’s a polished dining table set against the wall, and you can picture yourself here, finally settled and able to take in a meal in peace. A small staircase with four steps sits to the right, leading up to what you assume are the bedrooms.

Jake steps up beside you, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I, uh, did a bit of cleaning before you came. Wanted to make sure you had a good first impression.”

You chuckle softly and assure him it’s perfect as he leads you up the stairs. At the top, he pushes open the door to a room and steps inside, placing the bag and box he’s holding down carefully. “Here we are. This is your room.”

You step inside, taking in the space that is, for now, just walls and an bed frame. But with your belongings, you can already imagine turning it into comfortable. Jake heads back downstairs to grab more of your things, leaving you to take in the moment.

Setting your suitcase and bag down, you take a deep breath, just as Jake returns, balancing a final pair of bags. He gives a small, easy smile as he sets them down by the bed frame.

“Oh, by the way,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “I took the liberty of getting you a mattress. Figured it’d make the first few nights a bit more comfortable.”

Your face lights up in gratitude. “Thank you, Jake. That’s really thoughtful.”

He shrugs it off with a smile. “Glad it helps.” Gesturing around the small hall outside, he continues, “So, my room’s just across from yours, and the bathroom’s at the end of the hall, next to my room. Heeseung’s room is right beside yours, but he’s out right now, so no worries there.” He hands you a small, brass-colored key. “Here’s your copy of the front door key.”

You take it, the weight of it feeling like a tiny anchor, grounding you here. With a nod, he gives you a quick smile and quietly steps out, closing the door behind him.

As the silence settles, you glance around, noticing—thankfully—that the door has a lock, which brings a small comfort. You exhale, feeling a rare sense of privacy and security, and decide it’s time to start unpacking. Unzipping your first bag, you begin pulling out clothes and books, setting them on the bed.

With each item you unpack, the room slowly takes shape. Clothes find a place in the closet, your books line up on a narrow shelf, and you tack a few personal photos and mementos on the walls, bringing color and comfort to the once-bare space. A small, soft rug unfurls at the foot of the bed, and a cozy blanket drapes over the mattress. By the time you finish, hours have slipped by without you realizing it.

Just then, a loud growl from your stomach reminds you it’s well past dinnertime. You leave the room, closing the door behind you, and step out into the apartment. The lights are dim, shadows stretching through the now quiet space, and Jake is nowhere in sight. Shrugging, you make your way to the kitchen.

You open the fridge and peer inside, noticing containers labeled with Jake and Heeseung’s names—and a few others you don’t recognize. One container in particular catches your eye, with a handwritten label that reads Ni-ki. Just as you’re about to open it, wondering who this Ni-ki is, a soft chime sounds from the front door, signaling someone’s arrival.

Turning, you see a tall man standing in the entryway, framed by the dim glow of the hallway. He’s effortlessly cool, dressed in baggy pants and a leather jacket, a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. His dark hair is swept back, and his gaze sharpens as he looks at you.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice low and slightly gruff.

You introduce yourself, explaining you’re Jake’s new roommate, and he nods in understanding.

“So, you’re the girl Jake was talking about,” he says, almost to himself. “I’m Heeseung.” He then glances at the container still in your hand and raises an eyebrow. “You might want to avoid eating Ni-ki’s leftovers,” he advises with a small smirk. “He can be… protective of his food.”

You tilt your head. “Who’s Ni-ki?”

“A friend,” Heeseung replies simply, slipping out of his jacket and hanging it by the door. As you place the container back in the fridge, he suddenly reappears in front of you, holding out a takeout bag.

“Here,” he says, passing it to you.

You take it, peeking inside to find a neatly packed dinner. You look up, surprised. “Thank you, Heeseung.”

His expression softens, a faint smile curving his lips. “You’re welcome.”

A voice from behind interrupts. “Can you close the fridge?”

You and Heeseung turn to see Jake standing at the kitchen entrance, dressed in pajamas, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy smile. You quickly apologize and shut the fridge door, but Jake waves it off as he turns his attention to Heeseung.

“Hey, man,” Jake says, stepping over to Heeseung. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he looks back at you, resting his hand on your shoulder and playfully bouncing on his feet. “Isn’t she great? The new roommate?”

Heeseung chuckles, looking down at you with a gaze that feels unexpectedly warm. “She’s even better than you said,” he says, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “Got a good taste in roommates, huh?”

Jake nods, grinning. “Right? A good pick for sure.” He tosses you a lighthearted wink, adding, “We’re lucky to have you here.”

The playful compliments catch you off guard, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. Silently grateful for the dim light that hides your blush, you stammer out a thank you, bidding them both goodnight before slipping back to your room.

Once inside, you lock the door and settle onto the bed, setting up the takeout and opening your laptop. The food is still warm, and you relax against the pillows, pulling up an episode of the series you’ve been watching.

-----

The next morning, your alarm jolts you awake, piercing through the calm of your dreams. You groan and fumble to turn it off, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up.

After changing into a fresh set of clothes, you grab your toiletries and shuffle out into the hallway, relieved to find it empty. You lock the bathroom door behind you, a small sigh of relief escaping your lips.

Inside, the bathroom is decently sized, its neutral colors soothing. A simple shower sits in the far corner, while a toilet is tucked beside it. Two sinks stand side by side, both topped with a huge mirror that reflects the morning light. You notice one sink is filled with various male grooming products—shaving cream, two toothbrushs, and a few other items—while the other sink remains empty. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember Jake mentioning that the empty sink was yours.

You get to work, brushing your teeth and washing your face, the cool water refreshing against your skin. The cabinets hold a few decorations and essentials, but you keep it simple as you focus on getting ready for the day. Once you finish, you take a last glance at your reflection, before exiting the bathroom. You head back to your room to grab your bag. After making sure the door is locked behind you, you head down the stairs and out of the apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible. You hope you didn’t wake Jake and Heeseung; they both have classes later in the day, and you’d hate to disturb their sleep.

Once outside, you take a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling your lungs as you walk toward the bus stop. You decide to skip breakfast this morning, opting to grab lunch on campus and planning to pick up groceries in the afternoon instead.

The elevator ride down feels swift, and as you step outside, you see the bus pulling up just in time. You board, find a seat, and settle in, clutching your bag on your lap as you pull out your phone. With a few taps, you put on your favorite playlist, letting the music drown out the morning chatter around you.

As the bus rolls along, you gaze out the window, watching the world blur by. Trees, shops, and people merge into a soft painting of morning life, and a small smile spreads across your face.

----

After a long day of classes, you make your way back to the bus stop, the familiar rhythm of your routine guiding you. Once on the bus, you relax, your mind still buzzing from the lectures and discussions. The bus stops at the mall, and you hop off, ready to clock into your shift at the clothing store.

The hours fly by as you assist customers, folding clothes, and restocking shelves. Each sale and every smile from satisfied shoppers makes the time pass a little quicker. When your shift finally ends, you clock out, ready to head to your next job.

Another bus ride takes you to the convenience store, where you cover for one of your colleagues who is running late. Luckily, your shift is only a few hours. You greet familiar faces as you work the register, and soon enough, your colleague arrives, a bit flustered but apologetic. You clock out, the end of your shift bringing a welcome sigh of relief.

With a little time to spare, you decide to shop for groceries. The store is busy, but you quickly gather the essentials you need for the week. With bags in hand, you hop on the bus again, this time heading to a nearby takeout place where you’ve already called in an order. The thought of cooking feels too exhausting after a long day, so you indulge in the convenience.

Once you pick up your food, you decide to walk home since it’s not too far. As you approach the apartment, you pull out your keychain, finding the key that now feels familiar. Unlocking the door, you step inside, your feet heavy with fatigue. The elevator ride up feels like a small victory, and as you reach the third floor, you shuffle down the hallway to your door.

You punch in the code, the door clicking open as you step inside. Kicking off your shoes and hanging your jacket, you’re immediately greeted by the cheerful presence of Jake and Heeseung. They’re in the living room, and their warm smiles lift your spirits.

“How was your day?” Jake asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

“Exhausting,” you reply, dragging your bag into the dining area and setting down the takeout food on the table.

Jake’s eyes light up, and he hurries over, his curiosity piqued as he peeks at the food. Meanwhile, Heeseung moves to help you with the groceries, offering to take the bags to the kitchen.

As you unpack, you can’t help but smile at Jake, who is now sneakily grabbing some fries from the takeout container. You shake your head playfully, and he grins, unrepentant in his munching.

The three of you settle around the table, sharing the fries and nuggets, laughter filling the space as you recount the amusing moments from your day. But soon, Heeseung checks the time and realizes he has to get to work.

“Alright, I gotta run,” he says, grabbing his jacket and helmet. “See you guys later!” You and Jake wave goodbye as the front door closes behind him, leaving you and Jake alone in the apartment.

The atmosphere shifts to a cozy calm as you both move to the couch, where Jake grabs a blanket and hands it to you. You settle in, finding the couch surprisingly comfortable.

“Alright, what are we in the mood for?” Jake asks, glancing over at you.

“Something light, maybe a comedy?” you suggest, settling into the cushions.

He nods, his finger hovering over a title. “I’m down for that. Do you have a favorite comedy?”

You think for a moment, a smile creeping onto your face as you recall one of your all-time favorites. “I love Superbad! It’s just so ridiculous but really relatable. What about you?”

Jake grins, leaning back. “Classic choice! I’d have to say The Hangover. That movie just cracks me up every time. The whole concept is just so over-the-top.”

You laugh, remembering the wild escapades of the characters. “It really is! And the way everything just spirals out of control—it's like a train wreck you can’t look away from.”

He clicks on a rom-com, and you settle in to watch. As the opening credits roll, you continue chatting. “So, what got you into movies?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jake shrugs, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I guess I grew up watching them with my family. It was always a thing for us to have movie nights on weekends. How about you?”

“Same! My parents were big on movies too, so I was basically raised on classic films. We’d have popcorn and everything. I think that’s where I got my love for them.”

You share stories of your favorite movie nights, each anecdote flowing effortlessly between you. You talk about the films that have made you cry, the ones that made you laugh until your sides hurt, and the thrillers that kept you on the edge of your seat.

“I’m a sucker for horror movies,” Jake admits, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “The adrenaline rush is just so addictive. Have you seen The Conjuring?”

You nod vigorously, recalling how it had you hiding behind your hands the entire time. “That one is terrifying! I had to sleep with the lights on for a week after.”

Jake laughs, and it feels easy and comfortable, the way friends can be. “Same! I love the ones that mess with your mind. You think it’s just a simple scare, but then it leaves you questioning everything later.”

The warmth of the couch and the soft hum of the movie make it hard to keep your eyes open. You fight against the pull of sleep, telling yourself you should stay awake, but it’s a losing battle. Your eyelids grow heavier, and soon enough, they flutter shut, surrendering to the comfort enveloping you.

Time slips away, and you drift in and out of consciousness. The sounds of the film fade into a gentle lull, a backdrop to your dreams.

You only briefly wake when you feel yourself being lifted. Your eyes flutter open, and you blink a few times, trying to make sense of your surroundings. When your gaze meets Jake’s, looking down at you with a sleepy smile, warmth spreads through your chest.

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbles, his voice low and soothing. You can’t find it in you to argue, and you let the comforting haze of sleep pull you under once more.

Jake carries you effortlessly, maneuvering through the apartment, and you feel the gentle sway of his movements. You catch brief glimpses of your surroundings as he struggles momentarily with the lock on your bedroom door, the soft click echoing in the stillness.

He finally succeeds, and with a gentle motion, he lays you down in your bed. The softness of your plushies welcomes you, and you instinctively snuggle closer to them. You hear Jake’s soft chuckle, and it makes you smile even in your half-asleep state.

Just before you fully drift off again, you feel a soft brush against your face as Jake tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

He smiles down at you, a quiet moment shared between you. Then, with a gentle touch, he walks out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

A few moments pass before he returns, this time holding a makeup wipe. You stir slightly, feeling his presence as he approaches the bed. Carefully, he leans down, and you can barely register what he’s doing as he begins to remove your makeup from the day. His movements are soft and precise, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at his tenderness.

“There,” he whispers when he’s done, a smile on his lips as he looks at you. “Pretty...” The word lingers in the air, and even in your half-asleep state, it makes your heart flutter. He tosses the used wipe into the small bin underneath your desk and quietly closes your door.

The sound of the movie plays softly in the background as Jake settles back into the living room, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his features. He waits for Heeseung to return, glancing occasionally toward the hallway, a small smile on his face as he thinks of you tucked away in your room.

----

The next morning, you wake up slowly, the soft sunlight filtering through your window, casting warm rays across your face. It feels like a rare luxury to have a late shift, and you stretch lazily under the covers before finally rolling out of bed. You take your time with your morning routine, enjoying the rare moment of leisure before a long shift ahead.

Once you’re dressed and refreshed, you make your way to the kitchen, the familiar scents of home enveloping you. You decide to whip up some breakfast, you switch on the TV, letting the sounds of a morning show accompany your meal prep.

After breakfast, you head back to your room to tackle some schoolwork at your desk. The quiet hum of the apartment is comforting as you focus on your notes.

It’s not long before you hear the soft sound of Heeseung’s bedroom door creaking open, followed by some shuffling footsteps. Curious, you glance toward your door, wondering if he’s finally awake. Moments later, a knock at your door pulls you from your concentration.

“Come in!” you call out, looking up to see Heeseung standing there, looking adorably disheveled. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, a baggy t-shirt swamping him, and messy hair sticks out in all directions, giving him a relaxed look. His fluffy socks peek out from beneath his pants as he shuffles inside.

“Can you make breakfast for me?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Can’t you?” you reply teasingly.

“Too tired…” he mutters, a hint of a pout on his lips.

“Late night at the bar?” you inquire, stepping around him and heading to the kitchen, a grin spreading across your face as he follows you like a sleepy shadow.

“Yeah, I had to cover for my friend while he hooked up with some girl… and he took too long,” he explains, his tone flat as he leans against the kitchen island.

“Oh, that sounds terrible. When did you get home?” you ask, measuring out ingredients for waffles.

“Four a.m…” he mumbles, and you can’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head at his apparent misfortune.

You hum as you mix the batter, the rhythmic motion soothing in its familiarity. Suddenly, you feel Heeseung draping himself over you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist and his head resting against the crook of your neck.

“Heeseung?…” you mumble, surprised but not entirely against the sudden intimacy. All you receive in response are muffled grumbles, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

After a moment of stunned hesitation, you decide to carry on with your waffle-making, pouring the batter into the hot waffle iron while he clings to you like a sleepy koala. The gentle weight of him against you is unexpected, but oddly comforting. You focus on the task at hand, feeling the warmth radiating from both the iron and his body.

You try to push the knowledge of how close you both are to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that if Jake were to come in, he wouldn’t see you from this angle. The thought makes your cheeks warm, but you push it aside, trying to maintain your composure as you concentrate on breakfast.

As the waffle iron hisses and the sweet smell begins to fill the air, you steal a glance at Heeseung, who seems perfectly content with his head resting on you, his grip tightening slightly as if to anchor himself in place.

When the waffles finally finish cooking, the kitchen fills with the delicious scent of warm sweetness, and you can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Heeseung slowly releases his hold on you, finally letting you go as he moves to grab a plate. He fills it with a few waffles, drizzling syrup over them before taking a bite, a look of sheer bliss crossing his face.

“These are amazing,” he mumbles with a mouthful, and you can’t help but chuckle at his eagerness.

“Thanks! Just don’t forget who made them,” you tease, your heart warming at his genuine happiness.

He finishes chewing and leans over to wrap his arms around you once more, pulling you in for a brief hug. “Seriously, thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” he says before plopping down on the couch, clearly ready to enjoy his breakfast in comfort.

You linger in the kitchen for a moment, a smile still on your face, before opening the fridge and grabbing a vitamin drink. You pop it open and take a refreshing sip, as you walk out into the living room.

As you step into the space, you pause at the sight before you. Heeseung has sprawled across the couch, the half-eaten waffle left hanging from his mouth, his eyes shut and small snores escaping him. It’s an adorable sight, and you can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief at how cute he looks.

You quickly grab your phone, snapping a picture of the moment before sending it off to Jake, knowing he would appreciate the humor of the situation once he sees it after class.

With a playful smirk, you approach Heeseung, carefully prying the half-eaten waffle from his mouth. As you do, you notice his shirt has ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin. You gently pull it down, wanting to make him more comfortable. Then, you grab a nearby blanket and drape it over him, ensuring he stays warm.

Ruffling his messy hair affectionately, you step back to admire your handiwork, a fond smile gracing your lips. With Heeseung settled and blissfully unaware, you retreat back to your room, determined to continue your studying.

A little while later, as you immerse yourself in your notes, your phone buzzes with a notification. You glance at the screen, seeing Jake's name light up, and you can’t help but smile at the excited message he sent:

“OMG, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Heeseung is literally draping himself over the couch like a cute baby sloth!”

You laugh, unable to help yourself as you imagine Jake’s exaggerated reactions. You quickly type back a response, “Right? He’s impossible! Just don’t tell him I took that photo.”

As the afternoon rolls around, you glance at the clock, realizing it’s time to get ready for work. You quietly shuffle around the apartment, careful not to wake Heeseung, who remains soundly asleep on the couch, still draped in the cozy blanket you had covered him with. You smile at the sight, finding it hard to resist the urge to snap another picture, but you decide to let him rest instead.

After changing into your work uniform, you grab your bag and head out, giving one last look at the peaceful scene before closing the door behind you. The chill of the air greets you as you make your way to the bus stop, excitement bubbling in your chest for the shift ahead.

Once you arrive at the sweet shop, you clock in and prepare for the bustling evening. Just as the bell above the door jingles, a wave of children floods in, their faces lighting up at the sight of colorful candies and pastries. You jump into action, serving up scoops of ice cream and filling bags with sugary treats, the cheerful chaos making the time fly by.

After what feels like hours, the rush of kids finally calms down, and you lean against the counter, wiping your brow with a sigh of relief. You chat with two of your colleagues, sharing stories and laughing about the antics of the day.

“Did you see the way that kid tried to sneak in an extra gummy bear?” one of them chuckles, mimicking the child’s guilty expression. You join in the laughter, easing the fatigue from your day.

Eventually, your shift comes to an end, and you clock out, tired but satisfied. As you take the bus home, you pull out your phone, ready to check messages. To your delight, you see a new notification from Jake. He’s sent you a picture, a selfie of him looking triumphant, with Heeseung still sprawled across the couch behind him, the blanket now haphazardly draped over his body.

You can’t help but laugh at the scene, Jake’s grin wide as he gives a thumbs-up, and you quickly save the picture to your phone.

“You’re not letting him sleep the whole day away, are you?” you text back, adding a laughing emoji to convey your playful tone.

Almost immediately, Jake replies, “Nah, I just let him be while I made some dinner. He’s gonna regret sleeping through the day!”

You smile at his enthusiasm, enjoying the banter as you make your way back to the apartment.

----

The days zoom by in a blur of laughter and warmth, transforming what started as an uncertain arrangement into a comfortable home.

Your first few weeks are filled with shared meals and movie nights, late-night chats about everything from favorite foods to secrets. Heeseung’s easy-going charm and Jake’s playful energy bring out the best in you, and you find yourself laughing more than you ever thought possible.

When you finally meet their friends—Ni-ki, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jay—you feel a mixture of nerves and excitement. Ni-ki, in particular, is quick-witted and charming, but you shoot Heeseung a warning glare, determined to keep your near mishap with the leftovers under wraps. To your relief, he complies, stifling laughter as you all share stories and get to know one another.

It’s surprising how easily you fit into this lively group, your personality blending seamlessly with theirs. Sunghoon and Sunoo’s humor keeps the atmosphere light, while Jungwon’s gentle nature balances it out perfectly. You also introduce them to your friends Wonyoung, Yunjin, Kyrell, and Yeonjung, and the two groups meld effortlessly, laughter and teasing filling the air whenever you all hang out together.

Despite your busy schedules—your classes, Jake’s shifts at the pet store and smoothie shop, and Heeseung’s late nights at the bar and his job at the sports store—there’s always time for fun. You all make a point to coordinate your schedules, planning outings that range from shopping sprees to casual movie marathons at home.

Amidst the joyful chaos, there comes a time when you begin to question your place between Jake and Heeseung. It’s subtle at first, just fleeting moments that flit past your consciousness like shadows. They both treat you with a warmth that feels more intimate than just roommates or friends.

Jake’s flirtation is often lighthearted and playful, a gentle tease that leaves you smiling longer than you should. He’ll come up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he watches whatever show you’re binging, the warmth of his body brushing against yours making your heart race. “What do you think about this one?” he’ll ask, his voice light, but there’s an underlying sincerity in his gaze that leaves you pondering what’s really behind his casual demeanor.

Heeseung, on the other hand, has a more physical way of expressing his affection. He’ll sneak up behind you while you’re washing dishes, his arms wrapping around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he hums a tune. “What’s for dinner?” he’ll ask, his breath tickling your ear. The way he lingers there—so close, so familiar—sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like more than just a friendly embrace, a tenderness that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

It’s in these moments that you find yourself questioning the boundaries of your relationship. Are they just being friendly, or is there something deeper at play? You try to dismiss the thought, laughing off their behavior as just typical friend antics.

Then there are the times when Jake becomes almost puppy-like, trailing after you, eager to join in whatever you’re doing. “Can I help?” he’ll ask, hovering by your side while you prepare dinner, his eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a softness in his gaze that makes you feel special, cherished in a way you hadn’t expected when you first moved in. And when you catch him stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat.

You wonder if they’re both feeling the same way, caught up in a strange blend of friendship and something more. The ambiguity weighs on you, and late at night, when you lie awake in your bed, you can’t help but replay their actions in your mind. Are you just imagining things? Do they see you as more than a roommate?

The days blend into a delightful routine, filled with laughter and playful banter. But beneath the surface, Jake and Heeseung have started to engage in a little game of their own, one that you’re blissfully unaware of. You can’t quite pinpoint when it began, but it becomes clear that they’ve both developed an interest in you that goes beyond friendship.

During one lazy afternoon, the three of you gather in the living room, the sun streaming through the large windows. You’re sprawled on the couch, engrossed in a book, when Jake plops down beside you. He leans over, peering at your pages with a mischievous grin. “You know, I could help you study,” he teases, his voice dropping to a lower, suggestive tone. “I’m a great tutor, especially with… hands-on experience.” You look up, caught off guard by his words, your cheeks flushing as you playfully shove him away.

Heeseung, who’s been lounging in the armchair across from you, raises an eyebrow. “What are you studying? Maybe I could lend a hand, too. I promise I won’t distract you—much.” He flashes you a charming smile that sends your heart racing, and you can’t help but laugh nervously, your mind racing as you try to focus on your book instead.

Later that week, you’re preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you chop vegetables. Suddenly, you feel a warm presence behind you. Jake sneaks up and leans against the counter, his arms crossed, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Need a sous chef?” he asks, leaning closer, his voice low and teasing. “I can stir the pot and keep you company at the same time.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but the warmth of his body so close to yours sends a jolt through you.

“Yeah, because that’s what I need right now,” you respond, your tone light but your heart betraying you as it races.

Heeseung strolls in just then, a knowing smile on his face as he catches the two of you. “Am i interrupting something?” he chides playfully, arching an eyebrow at Jake. You feel your cheeks heat up as the playful banter continues, and you can’t help but feel like the center of attention, albeit in a way that leaves you both flustered and exhilarated.

What you don’t realize is that behind the scenes, a little competition has begun. Jake and Heeseung have started making bets on who can get your attention first, whispering and laughing about it when they think you can’t hear. “I’ll bet you a smoothie I can make her blush before dinner,” Jake declares one day, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Heeseung chuckles, countering with, “You’re on. But I’ll raise you—I’ll bet you can’t make her laugh while doing it.”

These little moments of rivalry only heighten the flirtation. One afternoon, you’re lounging in the living room when Heeseung walks in wearing a fitted shirt that highlights his toned physique. He notices you staring and grins, leaning casually against the wall. “What? You like what you see?” he asks, his voice dripping with playful confidence. You can’t help but feel your cheeks burn as you stammer a response, the heat creeping up your neck as you try to find words.

“Shut up, Heeseung,” you manage, your laughter mingling with embarrassment, but he only chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Then there are times when Jake gets a bit bolder. One evening, he finds you in your room, studying. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly relaxed yet undeniably handsome. “You know, if you need a study break, I’m really good at helping people… unwind,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye. You can feel your heart race, and your response gets caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless.

As weeks turn into months, these playful exchanges become more frequent and more suggestive, leaving you in a constant state of fluster. They often playfully compete for your attention, showering you with flirty comments and lingering touches that send your heart racing.

It’s not just the comments that leave you flustered; it’s the way they both find excuses to be close to you. Jake will brush against you as he reaches for a snack, his fingers grazing yours in a way that feels charged with something more. Heeseung will lean in while you’re cooking, his breath warm against your neck as he whispers a playful remark, leaving you shivering with both surprise and delight.

One afternoon, after weeks of playful banter and flirtation from Jake and Heeseung, you decide it’s time to turn the tables. You’ve been thinking about how much fun it could be to throw a little flirting back their way, to see if they can handle a taste of their own medicine.

You wait until a Saturday when everyone is home. The living room is buzzing with energy as you all relax together, the sound of a movie playing softly in the background. Jake is sprawled across the couch, while Heeseung sits in the armchair, legs casually crossed and an easy smile on his face as he scrolls through his phone.

Feeling a rush of confidence, you take a deep breath and lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms and adopting a playful smirk. “You know,” you begin, drawing their attention, “I could really use some help getting my grades up. Maybe I should schedule some one-on-one study sessions with the both of you.”

Jake looks up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, and Heeseung’s mouth curves into an amused smile. “Oh? Are you sure you can handle all this help?” Jake quips, his tone teasing, but you can see the flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Just think of it as an opportunity to show me your expertise,” you reply, maintaining eye contact with both of them as you saunter closer. You can feel the charged atmosphere as you lean casually against the arm of the couch, inching closer to Jake. “I could use some practical lessons.”

Heeseung sits up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Practical lessons? Sounds like someone is trying to get a little more than just academic help,” he retorts, the hint of a challenge in his voice. You can tell he’s intrigued by your sudden boldness.

“Oh, I definitely am,” you say with a playful wink, enjoying the way both of them are momentarily taken aback. “But only if you can keep up with me.” You’re met with stunned silence, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. But then, Jake bursts out laughing, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“You’re on!” he declares, shooting you a cocky grin that ignites a flutter in your stomach. “But just so you know, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes in mock defeat, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you can’t keep up.” His voice is low and teasing, the challenge hanging in the air between you.

As the afternoon unfolds, you continue to flirt playfully with both of them, tossing comments back and forth. You compliment Jake on his “impressive knowledge” of pop culture, leaning in just a bit too close as you whisper about how his recommendations have been “so helpful.” You watch as his cheeks flush, caught off guard by your boldness.

Heeseung, not to be outdone, makes his own moves. “You know,” he says, his voice smooth, “if you want to study hard, you might need to take some breaks. I could think of some fun activities to fill those breaks.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh at how easy it is to keep the teasing going.

The three of you end up in a lighthearted competition, each trying to out-flirt the other. You toss compliments like confetti, and they respond in kind, each line making the tension between you thick and exhilarating.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you two were so charming,” you remark, feigning innocence as you watch them squirm a little under your gaze. “Maybe I should have taken you up on that help sooner.”

Jake grins, leaning back against the couch with a newfound confidence. “Well, now you know. We can definitely provide the special assistance you need.”

You feel a rush of satisfaction at finally flipping the script. The laughter fills the room, punctuated by playful banter, and it feels good to see them flustered for a change, struggling to come up with responses to your flirty remarks.

Eventually, as the evening winds down, you sit back and bask in the warmth of their attention.

You’ve made your mark, and it’s clear that your flirty game has raised the stakes between you and your two charming roommates, setting the stage for whatever might come next.

----

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting a warm glow as you returned home from work. Your phone buzzed with a notification, and you quickly glanced at the group chat. The excitement in the messages about a night out at a local club had your heart racing with anticipation. Without a second thought, you agreed to join, feeling a surge of energy at the prospect of a night filled with laughter and music.

You rushed to your closet, rifling through your clothes until you found the perfect outfit: a fitted black top that hugged your curves and a high-waisted skirt that accentuated your figure. You quickly changed and turned your attention to your makeup, after curling your hair into loose waves, you added a touch of glittering highlighter to your skin for that extra glow.

Grabbing a small, chic purse to carry your essentials, you made your way downstairs. As you descended, you spotted Heeseung standing in the living room, his back to you as he exchanged goodbyes with Jake, who lounged on the couch. Both of them turned as you approached, their expressions shifting from casual conversation to admiration.

Jake’s mouth fell slightly open, clearly impressed. “Where are you off to?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.

“The club,” you replied, a smile forming on your lips as you noticed the way Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you.

Before you could say anything else, Heeseung quickly chimed in, “I can drive you.” He moved toward the closet, retrieving another helmet with a casual ease that made your heart flutter. The prospect of riding on his motorcycle sent a thrill through you.

You nodded, excitement bubbling in your chest as you took the helmet from him. After throwing on a short jacket to ward off the evening chill, you turned to Jake. “See you later!” you called out, waving goodbye. He still looked slightly dazed, clearly caught off guard by your transformation.

You followed Heeseung down to the parking lot, the anticipation of the ride sparking in the air around you. As he climbed onto his motorcycle, you felt a rush of adrenaline. You slipped on the helmet, securing it snugly before getting on behind him. As you wrapped your arms around his waist, the warmth of his body seeped through your jacket, and he started the bike, the engine rumbling beneath you.

With a twist of the throttle, you felt the bike lurch forward, and you leaned into Heeseung’s back as he expertly maneuvered through the streets. The cool wind whipped past, sending a shiver through your exposed skin, but you didn’t mind; the thrill of the ride was invigorating.

The ride to the club was quick, the familiar streets flying by as you soaked in the freedom of the moment.

As you both arrived at the club, the vibrant energy of the nightlife buzzed around you, the pulsing music spilling out into the cool evening air. You hopped off the motorcycle, feeling exhilarated, and removed your helmet, shaking your hair loose and letting it cascade down. Just then, a group of drunken guys standing outside caught sight of you, their eyes lighting up in appreciation.

“Hey there, beautiful!” one of them hollered, followed by a chorus of wolf whistles. “Looking good! I’d love to have you hugging me from behind like that!” Their comments were laced with crude humor, and you felt a grimace form on your lips as you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

Before you could respond, Heeseung had already dismounted his bike, removing his helmet and stepping forward with a glare aimed at the group. “Back off!” he shouted, his tone sharp and commanding, making it clear he wouldn’t tolerate their disrespect. The guys exchanged wary glances but quickly retreated, their bravado faltering under Heeseung’s fierce expression.

You let out a small sigh of relief, thankful for his protective instinct, and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the entrance of the club. “Come on, you gotta clock in,” you urged, eager to escape the unwanted attention. As you reached the door, you noticed your friends waiting just outside, their faces lighting up at the sight of you.

With a friendly wave, you called out to them before turning back to Heeseung. The bouncer, recognizing him, waved you both through without hesitation, allowing you and your friends to enter the lively club atmosphere.

As you stepped inside, the beat of the music enveloped you, and the dazzling lights danced around the room, pulling you into the vibrant nightlife. Heeseung squeezed your hand gently before letting go, heading toward the bar to start his shift.

----

The night had unraveled into a blur of laughter, music, and drinks, with you and your friends dancing under the flashing lights, letting loose in a way you hadn’t in a while. You’d managed to get a couple of cheap—or even free—drinks thanks to Heeseung working behind the bar. Every time you looked over, he would give you a quick wink or a grin, sending another round your way.

And you weren’t short on attention either, noticing that a few guys in the club were more than happy to flirt. Their compliments and eager smiles were flattering, and you enjoyed the easygoing fun of it all. Still, as your friends leaned in to shout in your ear over the music, you noticed something: Heeseung’s gaze wasn’t just casually lingering. He was watching, his eyes sharp, his attention shifting from you to each new guy who tried his luck.

At one point, a guy offered to buy you a drink, and you agreed with a polite smile, following him over to the bar. As he ordered, Heeseung’s expression changed, his smile a touch too tight.

He set both drinks on the bar with an innocent smile, and you took a sip of yours, which tasted surprisingly perfect. But the guy next to you sputtered, coughing immediately as he spat his drink out, splattering a bit on your sleeve. He turned, red-faced, looking horrified.

“Why is this so… spicy?” he demanded, voice hoarse. Heeseung kept his face impassive, busying himself with a rag and the counter.

You couldn’t hold back a giggle as you watched Heeseung discreetly nudge the hot sauce bottle further under the counter, his lips twitching into a smile as the guy stomped off, grumbling. Not a minute later, you headed for the restroom, shaking your head in amusement at Heeseung’s antics.

In the quiet of the restroom, you took a moment to breathe, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You slipped off your jacket, draping it over a nearby hook, revealing the full outfit you'd carefully chosen for tonight. The cool air in the room brushed against your exposed skin, a reminder of how much thought you'd put into tonight's look.

You ran a hand over your clothes, smoothing out any creases, then turned to check your makeup. With a practiced hand, you reapplied a touch of lip gloss and adjusted your eyeliner.

As you strolled back into the club, the pulsing lights and thumping bass surrounded you, momentarily drowning out your thoughts. You barely glanced at the guy from earlier, who was now fully engrossed in conversation with another girl, when your gaze was irresistibly drawn to the bar.

There stood Heeseung and Jake, leaning casually against the polished counter. Jake wore a pair of fitted jeans that hugged his form just right and a simple shirt that accentuated his toned physique. His hair was pushed back effortlessly. Heeseung was a perfect match, dressed in jeans as well, but opted for a sleek black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. His hair was also slicked back now.

The moment they turned their attention to you, their eyes locked onto you with an intensity that left you momentarily breathless. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of surprise and excitement at seeing them both here, looking so undeniably handsome.

Heeseung’s gaze was unblinking, a flicker of something bold and daring mixed in with his usual confident smirk. His posture was casual, one hand braced against the bar while the other rested on his hip, but his eyes… they seemed to trace over you with a slow, almost deliberate sweep, lingering a second too long. The defiance in his smirk spoke volumes, as if daring anyone else to look at you the way he was. There was a possessive glint in his eyes, as if he was barely holding himself back from reaching out.

Then there was Jake, whose gaze held a different kind of heat. His eyes softened as they traveled from your face down to your outfit, then back up. He took in every detail—your makeup, the way your clothes clung to your figure, the glint of confidence in your eyes. When he met your gaze again, his lips curled into a grin, the warmth of his smile undercut by the intensity in his eyes. It was as though he was studying every inch of you, and his lips curved, like he knew exactly how captivating he found you.

You caught a brief exchange of glances between the two of them, each sizing up the other’s reaction, before they turned their focus back to you, their eyes following every step you took. Their shared gaze left you feeling bare, like they were both trying to pull you closer without needing to say a word.

“Well, well, here comes trouble,” Jake teased, his voice low and smooth, though the smile he wore was anything but innocent. He raised his glass to you, his eyes reflecting that warmth that always made you feel seen—but there was something else tonight, a sharper edge to the way he looked at you, as if he was waiting to see how you’d respond to their attention.

Heeseung’s smirk only deepened, a spark of mischief flickering in his gaze as he straightened a little, his posture shifting subtly closer. He kept his eyes locked on yours, every part of him seemed to radiate a daring energy, as though daring you to close the distance between you.

With a steadying breath, you made your way to the bar, fully aware of Jake and Heeseung's gazes. As you reached them, Heeseung leaned forward, elbows propped on the bar, his smirk never faltering, while Jake wasted no time slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you close with that effortless charm he wore so well.

"Dressed to impress,” Heeseung drawled, his tone laced with amusement as he gave you another lingering look, head tilting as if to take in every inch. “Gonna be a distraction all night, aren’t you?”

Jake tightened his hold on your waist, bringing you even closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “He’s just jealous because you look this good, and he’s stuck working.” His voice was smooth, and his breath sent a warm shiver down your neck. “Right, Heeseung?”

Heeseung scoffed but didn’t pull back, the gleam in his eyes only intensifying. “I think I’ll manage,” he shot back, but his eyes never left you, tracing the subtle way you leaned into Jake’s embrace. “Besides, it looks like you’re already in good hands.”

Feeling bold, you turned to face Heeseung fully, resting one hand on the counter as you smiled, the challenge in your eyes clear. “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Only if you’d do something about it,” he replied, his gaze unflinching, taunting. He reached over, his fingers brushing lightly over yours where they rested on the bar. “Think you could handle both of us?”

Before you could respond, Jake chuckled softly, his arm around you tightening, as he glanced over at Heeseung. “Oh, she can handle anything we throw at her,” he teased, his eyes locking on yours with a hint of something darker. “Right?”

You laughed softly, finding yourself delighting in their attention, the playful tension between them only adding to the thrill. Heeseung shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, while Jake’s fingers absently traced along your waist, making it clear he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

You leaned closer to Jake, letting him feel the warmth of your smile against his cheek. “Oh, I can handle you two just fine,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but you knew they both heard it. The shift in their expressions told you enough—they were both thoroughly captivated.

Heeseung exhaled a low laugh, eyes twinkling with intrigue, while Jake’s hand at your waist stilled, his grip firm, like he wasn’t about to let you out of his sight for the rest of the night.

Jake tilted his head just slightly, the corners of his mouth curving up in a half-smile. “Is that so?” he murmured, his voice low, almost daring. He let his gaze drift slowly over your face, down to your lips, and then back to your eyes.

Heeseung watched, clearly enjoying the exchange, a slow, amused grin spreading across his face. He leaned across the bar, his gaze locked on yours as he teased, “Guess we’ll have to test that out, then. Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable.” His voice was smooth, the subtle challenge in his words matched by the spark in his eyes.

Feeling both their gazes, you couldn’t help the little smile that played on your lips. You leaned slightly closer to Jake, keeping eye contact with Heeseung as you replied, “Maybe it’s you two who won’t be able to keep up.”

Jake let out a breathy chuckle, but his eyes never left you, even as he responded, “We’ll see about that.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained but also intrigued, and he nodded in agreement, watching as Jake held you close. With an easy grin, he said, “I think you’ll keep us busy.” He reached out to hand you a drink, fingers brushing against yours in the brief exchange, his eyes lingering on you.

You took a sip, feeling their attention wrap around you like a warmth that made the crowded club fall away.

Just as Jake’s hand tightened on your waist, you felt a tug from behind—your friends, appearing at just the right moment, grinning as they coaxed you toward the dance floor.

“Come on!” they called, laughter in their voices. Before either Jake or Heeseung could react, you slipped from Jake’s hold with a wink. Both of them stared after you, looking mildly stunned—and maybe just a bit thrown off by how easily you’d gotten away. Jake tried to reach for you, a playful protest on his lips, but your friends swept you into their midst, pulling you into the rhythm of the music.

On the dance floor, you let yourself get lost in the energy, moving in time with the pulsing beat. You stole a glance back at the bar, where both Heeseung and Jake were watching intently, as if sizing up their next move. Heeseung raised his drink to you, that confident smirk still plastered on his face, while Jake looked torn between amusement and a slight, playful irritation at your escape.

Laughing, you lost yourself in the music, feeling their gazes follow your every move.

----

The night took an unexpected turn when one of your friends became a little too enthusiastic with the drinks. Before you knew it, she was outside, hunched over on the sidewalk, throwing up. You quickly moved to her side, pulling her hair back and rubbing her shoulder, doing your best to soothe her as she mumbled apologies.

Once she was done, the group decided it was best to get her home. You all piled into a car, the designated driver taking the wheel while the rest of you kept a close eye on your friend.

When you reached her place, you carefully helped her inside, guiding her up to her bedroom and laying her down, making sure she was comfortable. With her settled, someone found a stash of drinks in the kitchen, and before long, the vibe had lightened back up. One friend pulled out a karaoke machine, and soon everyone was singing loud, off-key renditions of your favorite songs, letting the night carry you all along.

As the hours ticked by, one by one, everyone found a cozy spot to curl up, and before you knew it, the house was filled with the soft sounds of snores and murmured dreams, a blur of a night settling into a peaceful sleep.

----

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and the usual regret that came with a night like this. Squinting against the morning light filtering in through the window, you groaned, reaching for your phone. Your notifications were littered with messages and missed calls from both Jake and Heeseung. You smiled a little, heart warming at their worry, even if it made you feel a bit guilty.

You dialed Jake’s number, and he answered almost immediately. “Where are you?” he asked, his voice filled with relief and lingering worry. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah, I’m okay," you mumbled, rubbing your forehead. “I’m at my friend’s place. She got a bit… too drunk, so we crashed here for the night.”

Jake exhaled, sounding both relieved and a little exasperated. “Alright, just hang tight. I’ll come get you.”

You thanked him, already feeling a bit better just knowing he’d be there soon. After the call, you stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle and downing some Advil. You checked on your friends, giving soft goodbyes to those who were half-awake and murmuring farewells to the ones still knocked out.

Stepping outside, you saw Jake’s car pull up, and you hurried over to climb in. As you slipped into the backseat, you noticed both Jake and Heeseung in the front seats, eyes full of concern as they looked you over.

“Good?” Jake asked, glancing up and down to check on you. You nodded, managing a small smile as he pulled away from the curb.

When you finally got back home, Jake parked and turned to open your door, but Heeseung beat him to it, sweeping you up in his arms so you wouldn’t have to walk barefoot on the pavement. You laughed, feeling a bit like royalty as Jake carried your heels and purse alongside.

Once inside, they led you straight to the bathroom, letting you shower and wash away the remnants of the night. As you closed the door, you couldn’t help but feel grateful, a smile spreading across your face as you let the hot water soothe away the morning’s aches.

After finishing your shower, you called out for one of them to bring you some clothes. “Hey, could you grab me something to wear?”

A moment later, Heeseung’s voice came through the slightly cracked bathroom door. “I got you.” You heard a rustling, and then he slid a pile of clothes through the gap. You reached out, taking them gratefully.

“Thanks!” you replied, quickly pulling on the comfy oversized shirt and sweatpants. Once you had dried your hair with a towel, you opened the bathroom door to find both Jake and Heeseung sprawled out on the couch, looking cozy under a soft blanket.

You joined them, settling down in the middle, feeling the warmth radiating from both of them. They shifted slightly, making room for you as you grabbed some popcorn from the bowl resting on Jake's lap. The familiar comfort of their presence wrapped around you like a warm hug, and you let out a content sigh as you nestled deeper into the cushions.

The movie played on, but your eyelids grew heavier by the minute. The soft light from the screen flickered in the dim room, casting gentle shadows over their faces. You leaned your head against Heeseung's shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you.

As the movie continued, you felt Jake's hand brush against yours, and his fingers intertwined with yours, a comforting gesture that lulled you further into relaxation.

Eventually, the movie ended, and you barely noticed Jake turning it off. Heeseung glanced down at you, noticing how peaceful you looked, and he exchanged a knowing look with Jake. They both smiled softly before leaning back against the couch, pulling you with them.

Before long, the three of you were all asleep, the quiet hum of the world outside fading into a blissful silence as you cuddled together.

----

The atmosphere in your room was relaxed and comfortable as the three of you lounged together, the glow of fairy lights casting a soft ambiance. You felt a sense of warmth and belonging, but there was an unspoken question hanging in the air—what was this dynamic you had built with Jake and Heeseung?

After a while, you turned to them, curiosity piquing your interest. “So, what do we call this? This… thing we have going on?”

They both exchanged glances, a playful light dancing in their eyes before they climbed into your bed. Heeseung settled on your right side, while Jake nestled to your left, and you found yourself sandwiched between them.

“We like you a lot,” Heeseung confessed, his voice low and sincere, “and we’d love to have you for ourselves. But we also don’t want to see you with any other guy.”

Jake nodded, chiming in, “Yeah, same here. We both want you.” He paused, his expression serious. “At the end of the day, we’d rather share you than lose you to someone else.”

Your heart raced as you processed their words. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread through you at their admissions. “But wouldn’t one of you get jealous of the other?”

“No,” Heeseung said, his tone firm yet gentle. “We both love you, and that’s what matters. You belong to both of us.”

As you gazed at them, a flutter of excitement and apprehension filled your chest. “I— I’ve been unsure about this. It feels wrong to like two friends at the same time.”

Jake pouted, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “Doesn’t seem wrong if we like you at the same time,” he reasoned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You found your gaze drawn to his lips, swallowing hard. The tension in the room shifted, and Heeseung noticed, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face. “Looks like someone’s interested,” he quipped, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“I am not—” you started to protest, but before you could finish, Jake leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips pressed against yours, soft yet insistent, and you gasped in surprise before instinctively kissing him back.

The moment was electric, and as Jake deepened the kiss, Heeseung leaned closer, trailing kisses along your throat. The sensation sent shivers down your spine as he nipped playfully at your skin, and you couldn’t help but let out another gasp, caught between the two of them.

Jake pulled back from the kiss, his grin widening as his gaze landed on the marks Heeseung had left on your throat and the exposed skin of your shoulder. The contrast of their playful possessiveness sent a thrill coursing through you, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“We have to show you that you’re ours,” he declared, his voice laced with a mix of mischief and determination.

Before you could fully process what that meant, both of them leaned in closer, their intentions clear. You gasped as Heeseung pressed his lips against your neck, his mouth warm and insistent as he began to leave his mark. Jake mirrored his actions on the other side, nipping and kissing a trail that made your head spin.

You whimpered at the sensation, the combined heat of their mouths igniting a fire deep within you. Your fingers tangled in their hair, gripping tightly as you succumbed to the intoxicating wave of pleasure and need. The soft sounds of your enjoyment filled the room, and you could hardly think straight as they lavished attention on your sensitive skin.

“Yours,” you breathed out, the word slipping from your lips as they continued their ministrations, creating a symphony of sweet tension and fervent desire. Each gentle tug and nibble sent shivers racing through you, and you could feel your heart pounding in rhythm with their touches.

“Just like this,” Heeseung murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. “You’re ours.”

Jake's hands roamed down your arms, his fingers trailing along the exposed skin, amplifying the sensations coursing through you. The way they worked together, each touch calculated yet spontaneous, made you feel cherished and desired in a way you had never experienced before.

Heeseung's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed his lips against yours. You instinctively grabbed his bicep, fingers digging into the firm muscles as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the moment. It felt right; the heat between you was undeniable, intoxicating. His kisses were fervent, each one making you crave more, driving you to the brink of madness.

Meanwhile, Jake positioned himself on the other side, his fingers weaving into your hair as he leaned in to claim your now vacant lips as well. The sensation of his mouth on yours was electrifying, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Your grip tightened around his neck, anchoring yourself as he kissed you with a mix of urgency and devotion.

In that tangled mess of limbs and kisses, they continued to explore every inch of your skin they could reach, marking you with their lips and leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Heeseung's kisses danced along your collarbone, trailing lower to your shoulder, each gentle nibble igniting a new spark of desire. His hands roamed your sides, fingertips brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, teasingly inching upward as if he were mapping out every curve of your body.

Jake, on the other hand, his hands glided down your back, holding you against him as if he never wanted to let go. He would pull you closer, the heat radiating off him intoxicating. With each kiss he pressed to your lips, he’d angle your head just right, deepening the kiss and making you melt.

As Heeseung’s mouth found its way back to yours, he captured your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue teasingly brushing against yours. It was playful yet fervent, drawing soft moans from you as you surrendered to the sensations. Your hands were restless, instinctively roaming to their arms, gripping tightly as you sought to anchor yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

With every caress, they exchanged knowing glances, a silent agreement to share this moment entirely. Jake leaned down, kissing a path from your shoulder to your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin while Heeseung took his turn, trailing kisses down your jawline. You gasped at the sensations, feeling completely lost in the ecstasy of it all.

“We’ll take care of you.” Heeseung murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear.

Jake’s hand slipped beneath your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin, sending shivers coursing through your body. “Yeah, we’re not letting you out of our sight,” he added, his tone both playful and serious.

Your mind raced with thoughts, a delightful confusion enveloping you as you relished in their attention. All you could focus on was the pleasure they were giving you, the way their bodies enveloped you.

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faeriekit · 2 years ago

Text

I’m writing this only to excise this from my body.

TIM (& DICK) ACCIDENTALLY START THE BATFAM AU!!!

So. Recently dropped out from college, kicked out of Wayne Manor, and fast tracked through police training Officer Grayson is having a real fucking shit time at the precinct. No one respects him or his deductions or his opinions. Everything sucks ass. His most familiar and longest-living support structure was ripped out from underneath him, he’s broken up and no-contact with anyone he’s ever dated, his Blüdhaven apartment is awful and full of black mold and there’s never enough food to sustain him, his creation of his Nightwing persona is slow-going and the public is reluctant to catch on, there’s a kid hiding under his bed, his partner thinks he’s a total nepo baby even though he has no money and no contacts, and—

There’s a what.

Dick double checks under his bed. Yerp. Sure enough, just hanging out, is a black-haired kid with a raggedy coat and a backpack, just peering back out at him with his big ‘ol eyes.

“What the fuck,” says Dick, before remembering not to swear in front of kids. “...freak.”

The kid scrunches his nose.

Dick doesn’t kick the kid out because, fuck, it’s cold out in November and at least his shitty apartment has heating, but he does tell the kid that this ain’t cool and that if he wasn’t literally in the cops to take most of them down, he wouldn’t let this fly at all. In the morning, the kid skedaddles, and Dick assumes that is that.

Except he’s here the next day.

“What the fuck,” Dick repeats, and commits to the swearing this time.

In the mean time, Tim already knows what swearing is and Is On The Fucking Lamb.

His parents were murdered in their bed on their one week in Gotham for the season, and escaping the same fate had been a lot of sneaking out of the house and hitching a ride on the Gotham city bus and laying low on the streets for the week, keeping only his most important photos, his camera, and a spare set of clothes on him at all times. There had been warnings of upset in the company that Tim had overheard, but he hadn’t expected this. With no safety in Gotham, no money, no food, and no one he knew personally, Tim was Very content with his plan of hiding out under Robin’s (ex-Robin’s?) bed until the murderers are appropriately found. The company can’t be bought, traded, or sold until Tim’s found dead, after all.

So. With a motivation to avoid getting murdered, Tim very rudely ignores Dick Grayson’s attempts to keep him out of his apartment with strategic uses of puppy eyes, lockpicks, and general knowledge of exploits in electronic locks.

“Little monster,” Dick warns, even as he has a plate for Tim in the hand opposite his own, “You can’t hide under my bed forever.”

Tim ducks back further under the frame. Yes he can!!!

It devolves into day-to-day shenanigans from there. Tim never speaks since he knows his Bristol accent is recognizable. Dick suddenly has to juggle his day job, Nightwing, and stopping this little kid with a camera from crawling around this crusty and crime-riddled city all night, just so the squirt can dart into the precinct in the morning with entirely inadmissible evidence of wrongdoing?? JUST managing the baby is part-time job. Fuck. Dick is buying double groceries now. He might actually learn how to cook more than ramen-with-egg.

It’s good that Dick has mastered some kind of weird almost-parent bullshit with the little monster, because overnight one kid under his bed turns into two.

“What the fuck,” says Dick. He tries to reach under his bed, and the new kid tries to get him with a knife. “What?? The fuck??”

“Back off! The shrimp was here first!!” the new kid growls, his street accent thickly prominent.

“This is literally my apartment?!”

“So what? What’re you going to do, call the cops to this shithole?”

“…I’m a cop?!”

Anyway. This new kid is deeply protective of the little monster, and his name is Jay something-something, mind your own fucking business, and Dick’s a little bit grateful because now at least the ten-year-old-monster has backup when he starts darting around town and also is wondering why it’s suddenly his fucking problem that he has to feed two kids he is not related to, and also apparently bailing them out at work when two not-even-pubescent kids get caught breaking and entering at seemingly random places in Bludhaven.

“Fuck off,” says Jay, to a cop, while the more silent kid is busy trying to get a look at evidence on cop desks. Dick watches from his own desk in silent horror.

“Is this yours?” asks Dick’s haggard partner.

“…Sure,” says Dick, to Jay’s clear surprise and suspicion. The monster beams with all of his adorable and also entirely fake innocence, the little shit. Dick bails them out, and then they all have lima beans for dinner as punishment for getting caught. I mean doing illegal things. (I mean getting caught.)

And then Bruce asks if Dick is coming home for Hanukkah.

Dick does not want to come back for Hanukkah.

…But the leftovers would feed the kids, actually. And it’s good food. And free. Maybe he can go for one night and not kill Bruce.

Spoiler: Dick cannot go for one night and not kill Bruce. Dick stomps to the other end of the house, texts Alfred an apology, and makes it all the way back to his car in order to drive home. Dick is on the parkway and on his way back to Bludhaven by the time that the tiny assassin in his car tries to Get Him.

They tussle. Dick only wins because he is An Adult and the assassin is, like, four foot nine.

Anyway. Cass is driven home in an improvised belt-and-dress-shirt restraint and cannot live under the bed, as she has to receive lice treatment. She stays because there is food and also other kids her age.

“Where are you getting all these kids?” Dick’s work partner asks, which is a fair question.

“…Cousins,” Dick lies.

“They live at your place.”

“Until their moms get sober again, yeah, probably,” Dick says, banking on the fact that he looks ethnic enough that no one will question the blatant reference to substance abuse or the basically-still-a-kid raising kids.

No one questions him.

He’s kind of disappointed in them about that.

Jay drops a reference to Crime Alley about this point. “You’re from Gotham?” Dick asks, perplexed. “Then why are you here?? This place sucks ass.”

“I’m in hiding. Duh.”

“From who??” Dick is fully prepared to go Nightwing on someone’s ass.

“Batman,” Jay says, severely. “I stole his tires. And then I hit him with a tire iron.”

Dick gapes. Monster gasps. Cass doesn’t get it, and takes a good heaping of spaghetti off the monster’s plate while he freaks out.

Much cute domestic shenanigans, and then it all goes to shit when the party is crashed by an assassin, who has been paid reasonable amounts of money to kill Timothy Jackson Drake.

Fighting ensues. Jay, who had known everything But the fact that Dick was Nightwing, freaks the fuck out.

"YOU?!"

"Yeah," Dick says, sheepishly, putting the escrima stick back in his pocket. "Uh. Whoops?"

"BUT YOU'RE A COP?!"

"I'm harboring you all, aren't I?" Dick points out, and rightfully so. "Cops do illegal stuff all the time. I literally got you out of trouble for your little B&E adventure in the inner city warehouses last week. If you weren’t fake related to a cop, you’d be in juvie right now for repeat offenses."

Jay, who was pretending that didn't happen and whose face is a bright scarlet, changes the topic. "Why didn't you tell us you were a fucking vigilante, then?? You should have said something?"

Dick points to the under-the-bed monster who has been squatting in his apartment since last year for that exact reason and the mostly mute mini assassin, both of whom had already known this information and said nothing. “I assumed they told you tbh.”

Jay stomps away.

Unfortunately, Tim's plan of hiding in Dick's apartment is no longer safe, and now everyone has to haul ass to move somewhere more secure.

This means needing more money.

This means needing somewhere to hide until a new place can be secured.

…Shit. This means playing nice with Bruce and asking for favors.

Dick does not want to play nice and ask for favors.

…Dick looks at the kid who’s depending on him to protect him from assassination, another orphan with nowhere else to go, and a girl who underwent abusive training and who’s never known a safe space apart from them.

Dick is going to have to get his shit together.

And he will hate it the whole fucking time.

Everyone piles into his early 2000s toyota something and off they drive, one bag each, to the house with the guy who never quite adopted Dick into his family and probably never wants to see him again, based on how literally every time Dick tries to spend time with him, Bruce can’t help but push on every one of his fucking buttons.

From there it’s a slow-churning reconciliation arc, baby! Bruce learns how to actually communicate with his kid, finds out that having the kids around improves his quality of life by 200%, and Alfred gets an early plural grandkid arc. Dick struggles not to take shit personally while they solve the deaths of the Drakes, Tim breaks his leg falling off of a place he Should Not have been, and Jason continues to learn that protecting others isn’t the same as genuine vulnerability and intimacy, and that he has value, and Cass learns that although she hates killing, she loves fighting, and using that for good isn’t bad.

Reasons I will never write this fic:

Too long!! I would never get it done in a reasonable time frame, and I can’t commit right now.

I actually…writing mysteries bores me. Sometimes actual mysteries bore me. I couldn’t execute this the way I would want it to be read. I’d give up. (Or, you know, I technically already have?)

In-betweens between the action scenes are too vague. They’re not solid in my head in the way I would want them to be if I was writing this.

This entire fic was premised under the basis of Dick looking under his bed and finding a twelve year old Tim Drake. I wanted some good old fashioned Tim & Dick bonding that wasn’t Red Hood based, since it’s still one of the most prominent tropes in their ‘&’ relationship tag.

Want to use any of this…? Go nuts. Or don’t. This has been exorcised from my body. I am now free.

#dc #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #cass cain #dcu #Bruce Wayne (derogatory)#free to a good home

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suzukiblu · 8 months ago

Text

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Karam, plus a cut for more; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

The walk over to the diner is quiet, mostly. Billy tells Lynn where some things are in Fawcett and points some stuff out in the neighborhood, but Lynn doesn’t really say much back. He nods along, though, and Billy's pretty sure he's listening.

Maybe sure, at least.

Worst case scenario, he figures he'll just repeat himself later. If Lynn's a little too stressed or overwhelmed to really be listening right now, well, he definitely wouldn't blame him. He's a baby, basically! Everything's gotta be so new and weird and overwhelming for him right now.

Billy isn’t gonna push. Not on day one, when they don’t even know each other yet. Lynn can take his time all he wants right now. It’s not like he’s hurting anyone, or even himself. So Billy just has to be patient with him while he learns stuff, same as any little kid he’s met in the system or on the streets.

They get to the diner and Lynn hangs back a little bit. Billy suspects Cadmus did really not prepare him for restaurant etiquette and stuff like that, considering. He’s pretty positive it didn’t, in fact. Billy doesn’t go to many restaurants himself, but . . .

It’s fine, he figures. He just needs to be a good example for Lynn, that’s all. And that’s what he always needs to do right now, so it’s no big deal.

He hopes he’s being a good example, anyway. He really wants Lynn to be able to trust that he is one, so he can know he has someone to learn from, so . . . yeah.

Billy goes to the counter, politely gives their fake last name–Batman would not appreciate them half-assing the new secret identities–and tips the waitress twenty percent and thanks her. It’s kind of a lot of food, but they have super-strength and a fridge for leftovers, so he figures it’ll be fine.

He does feel a little nauseous over how much money he just spent, though.

Batman gave them way more money than that, Billy reminds himself as he gathers up the bags. And there’ll be more next week. And if they actually somehow run out or just have an emergency, he can just fill out the League paperwork to requisition funds to make up for it. They could spend way more than this and still be fine.

He’s pretty sure takeout is still gonna be a special occasions only thing, though. And couponing. Couponing is definitely gonna be a thing.

It’s just a lot of money.

Billy gets all of the bags juggled into his arms. Lynn looks awkward again and shifts Tawky under his other arm.

“I can carry it,” he says stiffly.

“Well, if you wanna,” Billy says. “We could split it?”

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, still stiff. Billy smiles at him and offers him a couple of the bags. Lynn frowns, but takes them. Billy figures it makes sense Lynn wants to help; that’s pretty normal with little kids. Like, they always wanna do what the older kids are doing, or the adults, or just whoever. So it makes sense Lynn would too, especially if Cadmus didn’t teach him this stuff to begin with. He’s learning, basically. So yeah, it’s normal.

And also a good sign, Billy hopes, if Lynn trusts he knows what he’s doing enough to copy him. It’s even sorta cute, actually.

. . . okay, it’s really cute, but Lynn’s kinda a teenager so he might not appreciate hearing that.

Still cute, though.

They walk back to the apartment–back home, which is a weird thought, Billy recognizes fleetingly but tries not to focus on right now–and Billy unpacks all the food onto the coffee table in the living room. He figures that’ll be lower-pressure than the kitchen table for their first meal together, and they can put a show or a movie on if Lynn doesn’t want to talk too much or anything.

Lynn sets Tawky on the end of the table, looking a little awkward about it. Billy smiles encouragingly at him. Tawky doesn’t really need to eat either in his stuffed animal form, but it’s nice that Lynn’s including him at lunch. And food does still taste good, obviously.

“What do you wanna try first?” he asks, nudging the open box of onion rings over towards Tawky. He knows he likes them. Lynn frowns, looking a little wary.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says stiffly. “Just . . . whatever.”

“Okay,” Billy says, figuring that means he’s a little overwhelmed by the options. They did order a lot, so . . . yeah, that makes sense. “How about the soup, then?”

“. . . sure,” Lynn mutters, and warily pulls the takeout bowl over to himself and takes the lid off. Billy offers him a spoon. Lynn frowns, but takes it. “. . . thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Billy says cheerfully. Setting a good example, and all.

#karam #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

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alchemistc · 5 months ago

Note

okay….. can I ask about Buck in the hockey au?

Buck was a middling college player who got drafted in the third round after his team missed the Frozen Four, and he kind of labored in obscurity for a few years in the AHL before his current team picked him up trying to unload cap space to buy out a problem players contract.

Buck plays four regular season games with his new team before he gets sent back down. The company line is that he's just Not Ready but in actuality he's been hooking up with girls in visitor facilities and once in the team bus. His coach (the coach is Bobby I'm just still working out the details) tells him he sees a lot of potential in Buck, and he could make it if he could just find a way to get his head on straight.

Buck gets his head on straight. He kills it with the affiliate team, runs a point streak through twenty-three games as a defenseman, quarterbacks the power play to the point that fans of the NHL team are up in arms that he hasn't been called up.

They're playing with numbers, trying to give Buck as much ice time as possible while they lose the weight of one of their underperforming D-Men - the usual contract juggling. Then they call him up. He has a few good games, scores a few goals, has a wicked wrister from the blue line. He also scores an own goal against Chim his fourth game up and keeps taking stupid penalties. It's 2-4 penalty minutes a game for too many men or delay of game because he keeps getting too overexcited and slinging the puck over the glass instead of along the boards.

Abby works for TNT, and Buck catches her eye while she's between the pipes for a national broadcast game. She's got enough pull to get his number and they start up a phone based relationship.

Buck's team makes playoffs his first year, and gets slaughtered in the first round. Abby's mom dies and she takes a break from sports casting and Buck, not that she really lets him know that.

During the off-season Buck's team trades for a defenseman who's been in the KHL for a few years. His name is Eddie Diaz.

Buck hates him for about half a day. He feels like he's being replaced. He's worked so fucking hard to make it and now there's this guy who just gets a spot right away?

(They're best buds by the end of the week, and by the time the regular season starts they're playing 25 minutes a night as the top D-Pair)

Buck's career comes to a screeching halt in the second round of the playoffs that year when he gets tripped on a breakaway and slides awkwardly into the boards.

(No one makes the connection at the time, but the player who trips him is the same one one of their old wingers, Deluca, saved from the bottom of a dogpile years ago when a skate got way too close to his neck)

The injury isn't an easy one. There's no quick recovery time. Buck is just sort of stuck in limbo for a while. And then when he's cleared to return they find out there were complications. Coach Bobby benches Buck.

And Buck has been nothing but hockey for most of his life. It was the only way to get his parents to pay attention to him. The only outlet for all his anger. And he's good at it. He's the best. He could be the best, anyway.

Buck takes to twitter during his 'recovery' time. At first he's just posting stupid shit, but then people start paying attention to him. The PR dept does Not Like the way Buck calls out bullshit and trolls on Twitter. The GM gets involved, things blow up. Buck is reluctantly allowed back at practices and quickly jumps into game readiness.

And it's clear he's come back better.

The team toils for years in first and second round exits, and some of their stars are coming close to contract years, and they just can't break out. Buck places third for the Norris a few times, and he and Eddie are often talked about as one of the best Defensive pairings in the league, but their team is fast and light and they get beat to shit every time playoffs roll around. Eddie's feisty, he'll talk shit until the opposing bench is FUMING, he'll get scrappy along the boards, he'll duke it out when necessary, but he usually has to keep a lid on that because he can't let Buck down by getting injured.

At the end of year six for Buck, after a heartbreaking out, Buck's end of year presser goes viral when he talks about how he's been in the league for six years and hasn't won shit.

The fanbase panics because he's in his second to last contract year. If they can't contend, they're convinced he's gonna want out before the All-Star break. (None of them are aware that Buck would rather re-break his leg than leave this team he considers family, and his agent would like to keep it that way)

The team has a banner fucking year. They've got record game winning streaks and record point streaks and their aging goalie has never played better. He has four shutouts in the first half of the season. And Buck was never planning to leave so no one really broaches the contract thing. They'll figure it out in the off-season. Buck's got games to win.

With the trade deadline looming and Buck's team looking like a shoe-in for top of their conference, the front office makes a... strange move early in. They trade for Tommy Kinard. He's a bruiser, real old school type, skates like he's got bricks attached to his ankles but will knock a motherfucker down for looking sideways at his guys. He hasn't announced he's retiring at the end of the season, but he's planning to hang it up either way.

The team is hesitant about that, at first, once they know. He and Chim played together for a few years, and Chim welcomes him to the team by filling his car with golf balls. Pointed, maybe, but Tommy laughs it off, and retaliates, and the team starts to grow fond of him. BUCK starts to grow fond of him. Buck has a Cup run to worry about but Tommy is there, playing five minutes a night and knocking dudes on their ass that would normally be going for Buck and Eddie so consistently that Buck and Eddie feel a little invincible. People are second guessing whether or not they want to risk incurring the wrath of Kinard for a meaningless late March game.

And that is where I leave this because I'm actually seriously considering writing this fic now and that's about where I'd start it.

#bucktommy #bucktommy hockey au

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edutainer2022 · 1 month ago

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An unassuming coincidence on a Friday night leads to an unforeseen chain of events. Jeff Tracy is badass. Teen Scott doesn't always follow Dad's orders to the letter. A kidnapping goes wrong. And I'm always intrigued by TAG Jeff up and packing his young sons into increasingly remote locations.

Many thanks to @janetm74 , as ever, for kind support!

ERGO PROPTER HOC

In hindsight, so many things aligned that day that normally wouldn't. His late evening conference call with the GDF Headquarters in a different time zone got rescheduled because of, ironically enough, a storm raging through Central Europe, that demanded consolidation of rescue and dispatch efforts. So that would mean he'd be home before his sons' bedtime (not that the elder three still pretended having one), for once. On a Friday. His mind drew a rather shameful blank, trying to remember the respective school and club schedules. Scott had been juggling the pick-ups and so much more since... well, for far too long.

Anyway, a call from his eldest's basketball coach settled the score - the boy sprained a wrist early into practice. The coach was following protocol and was more comfortable with sending Scott out to the hospital for a proper X-ray. Jeff's eldest son would never have called him at work if he could help it - unlike the father, he actually did remember the agenda for the week, and A LOT was riding on that GDF call. But the coach likely wanted to avoid liability for delay. It was too soon to break the practice up or to let Scott sit it out with an ice-pack and then bum a ride from one of his friends (or bargain with them to skip hospital altogether and give him a ride home, more like). The coach also wouldn't hand Jeff's underage son over to a stranger, a status in the Tracy wider social circle Kyrano was vehement to maintain. Anyhow, the stars aligned so that Jeff was available (and quite a bit worried by the time he got there). Which might have bumped the stars some more into giving him a flat tire.

They ended up taking Scott's car to save time, Jeff driving. The trip proved a breezy affair as there was no damage beyond a sprain. Nothing a brace, some cold, Ibuprofen and rest couldn't fix. Jeff saw how the latter might prove a problem, though, with the three year old Allie practically living in Scott's arms. But that was to be a problem for Dad Jeff to deal with later that evening. In the meantime, they had some much overdue quality time one on one, complete with some take-away burgers and a backseat full of stacked pizzas and other delicious goodies for the all-boys movie night at home.

Jeff's enjoyment of the afternoon was slightly marred by Scott apologizing up, down and backwards for interrupting Dad's workday. That, and the boy being obviously in more pain than he let on. But that too was an issue for Dad Jeff to tackle later. For the time being he let himself enjoy his eldest son's company.

***

The drive back to the farm was to be swift and uneventful. He could see Scott, paler than Jeff was strictly happy about, fighting off fatigue, and wondered if the movie night would quickly turn into a puppy pile sleepover. That thought might have twitched annoyance in his gut as he saw a two-car crash ahead, blocking an otherwise empty road. He didn't want any delays on the way to spend a Friday night with his kids.

Jeff was used to trusting his gut. It got him through tight fixes in a war, out in space, all the way on friggin' Mars. It helped him navigate the World Council and GDF convoluted politicking, and the cut-throat business scene. So now, when one of the drivers, engrossed in dispute, looked up at their approaching car - Scott's car - Jeff's gut was blaring a red alert.

An imperceptible shift in stance to reach for the weapons, the cold glimmer in the eyes, the vaguely familiar faces of Gaat's "assistants" launched Jeff's mind into a breakneck tumble. He assessed the situation and weighed the options. From the passenger seat big blue eyes were glancing up at him in worry as Dad's hands tightened at the wheel, his face momentarily hardened. Jeff made a move for the glove compartment, then remembered they were in Scott's car. No gun! The curse that followed had the blue eyes dilate wider, startled. He was scaring his son, which entirely defeated the purpose. Okay, new plan! The seatbelt clicked off.

"Bluejay! I need you to take the wheel now! Don't stop, drive off! Tell Kyrano to get you and the boys away at once! He'll know what to do!"

"Dad!!!"

The face of his young self was sheet white now, bright blue almost black with disbelief.

"Dad! What are you gonna do?! I CAN'T LEAVE YOU HERE! Dad, what's wrong!?!!"

They were approaching fast, he didn't take the foot off the pedal, hoping to give Scott momentum. And a chance to flee. The goons on the road were openly smirking now. He could see the sunset bounce off one of the gun barrels.

"I need you to do exactly as I say, son! It's an order! Don't stop, don't look back! GO!"

He didn't have time to placate a frightened child, even if the last thing he would see in life would be the horrified features of his son. He could think of worse ways to go. Smaller shaking hands, one in a brace, clasped the wheel. He knew Lord Hugh's "multitalanted valet" had taught Scott extreme driving, so he ought not to doubt the boy's ability to speed through. With one parting glance he opened the door and jumped, aiming to tackle one of the henchmen to the ground.

***

Whoever his erstwhile friend sent out, were certainly not expecting a combat hardened veteran with rigorous astronaut training under his belt. Nor a father determined to protect the most precious with his life. It nearly came down to that too, as they were no amateurs either. But they definitely didn't expect Belah Gaat's brother, skidding into the fray in Jeff's farm truck. Jeff didn't anticipate Kyrano as well, but couldn't turn down the much needed help. On second thought, it didn't surprise him Scott obviously disobeyed his order. The realization didn't add to his piece of mind one bit.

Leaving Kyrano to deal with the henchmen and with the police (in whichever order he saw fit), Jeff, though visibly worse for the wear, vehemently shot down the suggestion to wait to pop into a hospital and floored it home in the truck. He needed to hold his kids!

***

The house was dark and quiet to the point it seemed empty. Jeff could feel this heart pounding as he checked the sitting room, kitchen, the boys' bedrooms up on the second floor, and even the attic. Scott's car was haphazardly parked on the driveway, so they didn't leave. Logically, Jeff knew the kids could be hiding somewhere on the farm property, while Kyrano was dispatched to help him in a fix. There were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house. But logic eschewed his rational thinking till he hadn't spotted his sons - safe and sound. Jeff was about ready to expand the search perimeter to the barn, when he noticed the basement door locked. After the TV-21 sabotage and Belah's thinly veiled threats, the hurricane shelter was transformed into a fully stocked panic room, complete with a touch pad lock. Jeff promptly ran the scanner and made his way down an equally dark stairway. On his last steps down he was momentarily blinded by a flash of light. His eyes adjusted to a siluette of Scott, clutching the gun, usually stashed in a coded safe. The boy was visibly trembling, but held the weapon steady, level with Jeff's torso - the wrist in a brace supported by the uninjured hand. The flash of light couldn't hide the pallor and the thin line of Scott's lips, pursed tight against the pain. The other boys were huddled behind him - John and Virgil hugging the Tinies between them. John was brandishing a torch.

"Put the gun down, son! It's Dad!"

It took a moment for the scared minds to process his words and for the eyes to adjust and identify the intruder.

He let the breath out only having removed the gun from Scott's grasp and tucked it securely out of reach, once the safety clicked back on. The next instant the eldest boy nearly collapsed into him and he had his arms full all five sons. The ribs that took a significant battering protested, but Jeff didn't care. He took his time liberally distributing soothing hugs and kisses over each and every mop of hair. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises as well, but that would have to wait. He needed to feel his boys breathing, warm and alive, and close to him.

That day indeed ended in a puppy pile, albeit not the way anybody expected. He left the in the basement for the night - for his own peace of mind. He kept the gun tucked into his belt - for the same reason.

Once the boys settled down into uneasy sleep, including little Allie bursting into tears and Scott persuaded to take another painkiller, Jeff did another round of kisses on assorted brows, noses and temples, and made his way back up to the kitchen, trying not to wake them up with his own grunts. He needed to see about those injuries, finally. Gaat's crooks did a number on him.

He probably should have known better than to sneak away from his eldest. Sure enough, light steps soon followed him into the kitchen. Scott slipped from the basement and made a beeline to the medical cabinet. The movements of a slender teen's figure were sure even by the moonlight. Nible hands produced gauze, antiseptic cream, and cold packs with practiced precision. The boy's face was serious and wrought with concern. At some point the shadows shifted and Jeff nearly swayed on his perch by the kitchen isle - he had to blink hard, twice, to let the gossamer vision pass.

"How did you get the gun, Bluejay?"

Scott froze midstep to soak a clean washcloth for Dad's gushes. Jeff mentally kicked himself. That was relatively far removed on his priority list at the moment!

Angular shoulders, still in the team jersey, shrugged.

"John hacked the safe code way back - we needed Allie's birth certificate for daycare."

Jeff had to brace himself on the edge of the counter not to keel over and keen, like a kicked dog. Ashamed.

The boy shifted from foot to foot and visibly braced himself, ready for a reprimand. When he turned back to Jeff, blue eyes were silver with tears.

"Are you mad at me, Dad? I couldn't just leave you there!"

How could he be? The boy's disobedience and quick thinking, ultimately, saved his life. He beaconed Scott closer and draped an arm around the still bony frame.

"I know, Bluejay! I'm not mad. I just need to be sure you'll follow my lead when it's about you and your brothers' safety, deal?"

"Yes, sir."

The answer was barely above whisper - the teen was still notably trembling, exhausted and anxious. Jeff sealed the deal with a kiss to the side of the boy's head and gave them both a moment, cheek resting on the disheveled curls. The kid was chasing him in height so fast.

Scott shifted away, startled by a sudden thought.

"Dad! How did they know you'd be driving!?"

They didn't. The roadblock trap was set up to kidnap a teenager, driving alone late. Terrified eyes searched his face for an answer his son had already figured out. He shifted to adjust the embrace tighter with both arms and guided the boy's head into the crook of his neck. The soft half-sob, half-gasp nearly tore Jeff apart. Come dawn, he'd need to make arrangements to relocate the boys far away. Kyrano and Hiram would help him turn Gran Roca into an impenetrable fortress. To begin with. He'd spare no effort to keep his sons safe.

#thunderbirds are go #jeff tracy #jeff tracy needs a license update in fathering #scott tracy #scott tracy needs his dad #my fic #wee!tracies get a hug #methinks i have astronomy

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marisol-000 · 3 months ago

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Clipped Birds Don't Fly

I've decided to not take ao3 going down as a sign and post this anyways ❤

Magpie Au by @dyad-tmesis! Jekyll and Hyde are separate in this one. Everyone knows about Hyde’s wings, but very few know about Jekyll’s.

It was a day like any other when Jasper walked into Doctor Jekyll -Henry's office. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and Sinnet blew something up for the second time that day.

The were-boy had been hanging out in Rachel’s kitchen, dangling his legs and trying to look interested in what the day-manager was saying.

“-and that's the last time I let those two ‘help out’! I mean honestly you’d think they were children but I’d think even children would know not to use the same gloves for dishes you use to carry hazardous materials around!” she huffed, chopping some veggies with a bit too much force.

Jasper wasn't quite as sure but knew better than to disagree with someone holding a large knife.

“And on top of all the new dishes we need to buy I still need Doctor Jay to approve this week's meal plan, in case that wretch Frankenstein has any dietary restrictions, Ooh if I could get my hands on her-”

At this Jasper straightened up, his ears perking. “I could ask him if you need!”

It wasn't that he didn't like Rachel, or her stories, but it always felt awkward to be in a room with someone and not be working. Especially when they were. If she wouldn't let him help cook then he could certainly run a small errand or two! And admittedly he wouldn't mind an escape from her tirades…he still liked her though! (Not like-like, well, yes like-like but not not like-like)

She looked back, blinking. “Oh? If you're sure. You don't have to if you're tired, I know I couldn't sleep in the same room as all those creatures of yours.”

“Ha, I grew up on a farm miss Rachel, at this point I doubt I could sleep without them. And just one list won’t take long!” he begged.

She considered it for a moment, looking a bit put-out. “Hrmm. Fine, I can't say no to those puppy-dog-eyes. But you need to repeat exactly what I say, got it?”

Jasper grinned and nodded rapidly.

He walked in without knocking. A stupid mistake in hindsight. He knew better than most how important privacy could be to a person, but while juggling the list of ingredients Rachel told him and their expected costs it just slipped his mind.

To say he was startled would be an understatement.

Jasper pushed open the heavy wood door to see Edward Hyde. He'd heard all about the man from Rachel and the other lodgers. A wild and intense party guy who didn't fit well with the society's image, leading many to speculate on why Jekyll hired him in the first place.

Some speculations were a bit more… scandalous than others, while some claimed they absolutely hated each other. He didn't really believe them all, nor did he want to think about his boss that way thank-you-very-much, but it did make him curious to meet the so-called ‘spirit of London at night’.

True to the stories he had bushy straw hair and bright green eyes, and of course a small pair of golden wings sprouting from his back. Bird-like and alive.

And Henry Jekyll stood over them with the largest pair of scissors Jasper had ever seen.

For a moment time seemed to slow down, Jekyll lowered the scissors, big things made of heavy metal, to the base of one of Hyde's wings.

Jasper had never seen the wings before, (a warbler maybe? Or some kind of parrot? he felt numb), as he'd never met the man they were attached to, but he'd seen feathers lying around the society. Even been shown some Rachel had secretly held on to. And the fluffy gold feathers matched the wings before him.

But all he could see was red.

Without a thought he lunged forward snarling with a force he hadn't known he was capable of. Eyes locked on the man who saved him from being arrested, he could practically feel his fur emerging, begging his nails to grow into claws.

Nothing happened as Jekyll snapped his eyes up at the growl, just now realizing he was there. The were-boy pushed forward regardless, he was stronger than the doctor. With or without a transformation.

A shout, his vision was cut off by a blur of yellow. Real claws in the form of dark talons swiped at his face.

He clashed with the man-bird-guy. Feeling a bit bad about it, he shoved him to the side to get to Jekyll. Or tried to. Edward Hyde held onto his arm like a lifeline, kicking what he could and even swiping at the boy's hair.

Jasper held off the black talons, and a gold wing that smacked him repeatedly on the head. The assistant was surprisingly strong for being so small. His hat went flying and his shaggy hair danced in his eyes in the small gusts.

Panicked arms cast out for something to grab onto. As bad as it felt to do Jasper grabbed Hyde’s other wing and pulled. The cryptozoologist knew birds’ wings were often stronger than they looked, and was experiencing it firsthand. He muttered something adjacent to an apology as he swung both himself and the avian around. Wincing at his cry of pain and cussing.

Once more throwing the man off he darts forward and lunges at the frozen doctor. Talons pull him back by his sweater to start the fight anew.

After some more tousling Jasper is pulled from the opposite direction, the were-boy yanked by his shirt collar. Away from Hyde who simply hisses and raises a wing in warning instead of following.

Jasper realized he couldn't see Jekyll behind Hyde anymore, and chanced a glance away to look behind himself. Of course, there was only one person it could be.

“How could you?!?” he howled, struggling in his grasp. He could barely believe this was happening, even if Henry didn't like Hyde, like the lodgers said, he wouldn't do something like this would he? What could the man possibly have done to deserve his wings being taken away?

“How could- what?! Mr. Kaylock I demand to know why you felt the need to attack my assistant!”

Hyde hopped back and landed in a crouch on the large desk behind him. “Yeah, I haven't even threatened you with the shovel talk yet!”

“You were trying to cut his wings off, I saw you!”

Jekyll's eyes went wide and brows creased with concern. The hand holding him fumbled and loosened. “What? I would never!”

As the boy whipped around, he paused, “Wait… you weren't?”

“Of course not! Goodness is that what you were so worked up about?” Jekyll sighed, running a hand through his brown (auburn?) locks. “Edward’s wing was snared. I was trying to untangle it.”

Jasper blinked, “You were?” For the first time he looked closely at Hyde's wing, the one that hadn't extended properly the whole fight, the one that wasn't currently being held up in a defensive position with the other.

There, wrapped tightly around the feathered appendage, was a thin wire. Jumbled up and twisted around like a cat stuck in yarn. He watched in shock for a moment as the wing twitched against the cord, pushing uncomfortably against the metal web.

The man himself looked equally as uncomfortable, and maybe a bit embarrassed.

“You see, Mr. Hyde got himself tangled in a clothing wire during his excursion, god knows how, and I was simply removing it from his wing.”

“Did not! It was a fight I tell you! With some very bad guys!” Hyde cried, waving his arms around. His free wing puffing up in protest.

Jekyll rolled his eyes, “Ah yes, a fight, my apologies.”

Jasper felt himself calming down, heart still racing but slower now. “Oh…I, yeah that makes more sense, ha… But-but wait, the scissors?”

It seemed to be Jekyll’s turn to look sheepish, “Well, I figured there was no pressing need to return it. I tried to undo it myself but it’s quite stuck on there. Not to mention Edward’s notorious for not sitting still.”

Jasper thinks about this, slowly relaxing his stance. Hyde watches him skeptically, lowering his wing in turn.

Suddenly Jasper’s shoulders slumped as low as they can, a sigh of air exiting with a whoosh. “Thank goodness. I don't know what I’d do if that were me. If I had wings and had to lose them like that. It’d be like cutting off my tail.”

Hyde snickered, “Didn’t know you cared so much about little ol’ me.”

He looked up immediately, “Of course! I mean, not you specifically, but, no one should have to lose parts of themself like that. Even if you don't like it, it's still part of you. It still IS you. And cutting it out or hiding it is like hiding part of yourself. If you got rid of your wings you wouldn't be the same you anymore.”

Something in Henry’s eyes softened.

“I must say Jasper I’m quite impressed with your resolve, it’s nice to know you wouldn't hesitate to stop someone you thought was causing harm. Even if it happened to be me!” Henry smiled, something almost like pride in his eyes.

“Ha, um, well,” Jasper blushed at the praise, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s nothing really, I…I…” Jasper froze dead, eyes wide as he realized what just happened. “I JUST TRIED TO ATTACK YOU OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY!!!!!!”

Later on Jasper has to embarrassedly explain what happened to Rachel, then, even more embarrassingly go back and give Henry the list XD

---

You're out of your mind if you think Rachel wouldn't throw hands with Frankenstein. Unlike the others she didn't grow up reading about and looking up to her; and if you think she's gonna stand for some ungrateful house guest punching her friend unprovoked you've got another thing coming. That being said, she wouldn't want to trigger any allergies on accident or go against any religion-related food preferences. Though mostly it’s in case it interferes w her medicine.

Fun fact the scissors Jekyll’s holding here are the ones in the sketch where he's cutting Edward's hair. They're just so big why did he use those ToT

The sketch I did that inspired all this!

#NOT angst lol #tgs #the glass scientists #the glass scientists au #tgs magpie au #magpie au #tgs jasper #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #my art #art #my fic

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ssivinee · 1 year ago

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✧Desirable Care✧

BEBE! Lee Seoyoung, aka Lusher x F Reader: You and Lusher are both popular regarding school status, but her crush on you was kept lowkey because you had no clue who she was despite being known to everyone. That changes once you realize how connected your worlds are.

Word Count: 4.1k

Note: Using blonde Lusher bc... look at her, like why wouldn't I😭. Anyway, ik this took a while. I was too lazy to write this one for some reason, so my bad, guys😔. This feels kind of rushed tbh (even if i wrote this for a while💀).

Character Vision Board

In university, there was a worshipped and admired group called "Team BEBE." This crew, renowned for its mesmerizing dance performances, held an uncommon status as the most recognized friend group on campus. Senior Bada Lee, Juniors Lusher, Kyma, Tatter, Sophomore Minah, and Freshmen Cheche and Soweon were the epitome of the popularity. They were the students everyone wanted to emulate, befriend, or perhaps even date. Yet, behind their iconic reputation, Team BEBE led lives of busyness, often hidden from the general public.

Despite their widespread recognition among the student body, Team BEBE maintained an intimate circle of friends and a few classmates. To them, popularity was secondary to their passion for dance and academic pursuits. Among the diverse crowd of their university, they navigated their busy schedules, balancing their commitments with dignity and determination.

To clarify, you existed in a different sphere of popularity. While you were not counted among the elite on campus, your name was frequently whispered in conversations revolving around popularity and the school's complex social hierarchy. Y/n Cruz, a Guatemalan-American international student who had graced the university since your freshman year. Your striking beauty and exceptional intelligence set you apart, but your warm, charismatic personality endeared you to anyone who interacted with you. Your name basically symbolized admiration, and your popularity transcended the boundaries of close friendships.

Popularity never swayed your humbleness, though. You remained consistently modest, friendly, and an inspiration to your peers. Every time you crossed the school's hallways, you were surrounded by your loyal friends who respected you with unwavering devotion. Your smile was a constant, a beacon of warmth that never failed to brighten your surroundings.

As the university semester progressed, the calendar page turned to a new month, and with it came an increased frenzy of activity. Team BEBE found themselves in the depths of preparation for a dance competition hosted at another school, a mere two weeks away. Simultaneously, they had committed to performing at their school's upcoming festival. It was a demanding juggling act, yet they diligently approached it. Dance held a special place in their hearts, and the ability to harmonize it with their academic pursuits made the long days and sleepless nights worth the effort.

Bada, their committed team leader, bore the burden of hectic schedules. As a senior, her academic responsibilities were more complex and time-consuming, demanding her attention early in the academic year. So, many of their practices were led by Lusher, her capable junior. On this particular day, Bada conducted a practice session before tackling her assignments, reaffirming her tenacious commitment to her beloved craft.

The studio atmosphere was charged with a noticeable sense of exhaustion. Beads of sweat glistened on Lusher's brow as she led the practice, her breathing mirroring her teammates. She glanced over at Bada, who was orchestrating the formation and couldn't help but feel sympathy. "Unnie," Lusher implored, her voice slightly strained, "can we take a five-minute breather?"

Bada, fully aware of their fatigue, hesitated momentarily before responding, "Seoyoung-ah, you know I would, but—" Her words were cut short by a discreet knock on the studio door. Bada and Lusher turned to the unexpected visitor, gesturing to be let in.

Bada, recognizing the newcomers, nodded in confirmation, and the door swung open to reveal three senior students. Lusher recognized some of them from seeing them around campus but couldn't understand why they were there. "Is it time already?" Bada inquired, and one of the seniors nodded affirmatively. "You have some time, though. N/n should be here in ten minutes."

The "N/n" caught Lusher's attention, a name unfamiliar to her until now. Curiosity piqued, she wondered why this person's arrival was significant enough to interrupt their practice. "All right, let me just finish this practice," Bada announced, determined to make the most of their limited time.

With her phone in hand, Bada approached Lusher and entrusted her with a task. "Do me a favor, Seoyoung-ah. Review the last minutes of the video, then send it to your own phone so you all can work on the dance while I'm gone." Lusher nodded, focusing on the video analysis as Bada conversed with her senior friends.

As Lusher focused on her task, Tatter, one of her team members, nudged her gently. Startled from her concentration, Lusher turned to Tatter with a questioning look. "What?" she asked.

Tatter pointed subtly toward the studio's entrance, and Lusher followed her gaze. What she saw left her momentarily breathless. Standing in the doorway was the sight of your tempting beauty.

Your caramel skin seemed to shimmer in the studio's lighting, while your wavy brunette hair cascaded in a high ponytail that flowed down to your hips. Your presence was nothing short of exquisite, and as you flashed your radiant smile, your pearly white teeth seemed to dazzle anyone who witnessed them. Lusher had surely seen you around campus before, and she'd often marveled at your beauty from afar. However, her busy schedule and the fact that you were a year ahead prevented her from ever encountering you.

Now, as she stood there, watching you with a mixture of awe and surprise, Lusher felt a newfound desire to bridge the gap that had separated her from you all this time. Your charm had always intrigued her, but this unexpected encounter had ignited a curiosity that was impossible to ignore.

Bada, wrapping up her conversation with her senior friends, rejoined the group and acknowledged your arrival. "Y/n-ah, nice of you to finally join us," Bada remarked, her tone playful. You responded with a light-hearted chuckle, your breath still slightly labored from your sprint to the studio. "Sorry," you began, "Ms. Hong held me back at the last minute."

Lusher watched the interaction between you and Bada, noticing the warmth in your friendship. It was a side of Bada she had never seen before, adding another layer of intrigue to the situation. As the conversation continued, Lusher couldn't help but wonder how deep this connection between you and Bada ran.

She was almost tempted to kneel before Bada, grateful she'd been allowed into your presence. The two blonde girls, Lusher and Bada, sat there, observing interactions between some of the school's most popular students. The conversation revolved around a forthcoming project that you needed to start this week due to your busy schedule next week. One of the other girls, not part of Team Bebe, pointed out, "So we should get going now?" Y/n nodded in agreement.

Team Bebe was taken aback by your remarkable accent when speaking fluent Korean. It was just one of the many aspects of you that people adored. Lusher, in particular, was determined to uncover all there was to know about you. As the seniors were about to leave, Bada gave the younger girls a mini salute, and you offered them a small wave.

Once the group had left, a deafening silence enveloped the dance studio, and the underclassmen stared at the door they had just exited. Minah scanned her spaced-out teammates and broke the silence, asking, "So are we supposed to act like that didn't just happen?"

"Did anyone know Bada-unnie was friends with Y/n-sunbaenim?" Everyone shook their heads in unison, and Lusher, still in shock, reclined on the floor, mentally replaying the scene. "Was she keeping their friendship a secret?" Soweon inquired, her arms crossed over her chest in frustration. "I doubt she would. Maybe they just met this year?" Tatter attempted to defend her leader, although none of the girls were entirely convinced. They all reached for their phones and opened the group chat.

Kyma🩵 Bada unnie?

Minah🩵 Bada unniiiiiiiieeeeeeee🤗

Tatter🩵 @Bada🩵, please pick up the phone so they can focus soon😮‍💨

Lusher🩵 How long have you and Y/n sunbaenim been friends?

While Lusher's unexpected question took aback the rest of Team Bebe, Bada stared at her phone in confusion. She had just left the room, so why hadn't they asked her then? "I didn't recognize any seniors in there," you pointed out, and Bada sighed, saying, "Yup, I'm the only one teaching them and leading it." You nodded and headed to Bada's car, but she hesitated momentarily. "Hey, we've been friends since our first year, right?" You nodded instantly, and Bada quickly typed away on her phone.

Bada🩵 Since our first year.

Upon receiving this new information, all the girls' jaws dropped inside the studio. "She was keeping it a secret?" "Maybe it just never came up?" Tatter, once again, attempted to cover for her best friend.

Lusher🩵 Why didn't we know this?😱

Bada🩵 Cause I know you guys are obsessed with her. Duh.

Lusher could practically hear Bada's sarcastic tone and rolled her eyes. "I swear she hates us," she mumbled, pouting while Tatter giggled. As the girls returned to their practice, the seniors went to the park to work on their assignment. The tall dancer, Bada, knew how people reacted to your presence. In fact, Team Bebe practically functioned as a fan club for you at this point. Bada had even noticed the subtle crushes some of the girls had on you, but Lusher was the one who appeared most infatuated. She often ranted about how good you looked and discussed your latest Instagram posts.

Bada had never brought up her friendship with you, even though the two of you were close. You had been each other's first friends in college, bonding over having the same major. You initially weren't sure if you could be friends with the towering girl, but as time passed, you discovered that you both shared the same major, making classes together inevitable. You often hung out during class, and other students loved the dynamic you both had. You were shorter, optimistic, smiley, and emotionally driven, while Bada was tall, appeared cold, and leaned towards being a pessimist, intellectually driven. You were the perfect definition of opposites attracting.

So, when Bada thought about her team, she figured the dancers wouldn't be able to handle the information. They might even use it to their advantage at some point. "So, you're going to be busy again with the festival?" Bada asked, and you nodded before sighing, "Yeah, but I'm also babysitting on those days."

"I don't know how you guys do it," one of your group mates said, her face reflecting her skepticism. "Bada has like 20 assignments, a dance competition, and you have two part-time jobs, your assignments, and the festival booth." You shrugged, and Bada chuckled. "When you love what you do, it doesn't make you feel busy," you explained, and Bada agreed. "She's not wrong."

"Speaking of the booths, can you come early next Friday?" Bada looked at your pleading eyes, tempted to tease you slightly. "Nah, I'm a little busy," she initially replied, causing your lips to pout as you grabbed her arm and shook it vigorously. "Dude, we need your height for the signs. You can even come later if you want." Bada laughed at your desperation. "Of course, I'll help you, N/n."

On the festival day, you and the baking club worked diligently to set up the booth. Boxes upon boxes of delectable desserts filled the display area. Some students passed by, watching as you organized the treats. Your eyes gleamed as you revealed a new dessert from each box, exclaiming, "These look amazing." A voice behind you expressed admiration, and you turned to see your tall friend with hungry eyes staring at the food. You gave her a pleading look, asking her to help first, causing Bada to roll her eyes and reply, "That's why I'm here, N/n." She began tying up signs while you ensured the coolers were functioning correctly.

"You made coffee cake?" Bada's gaze softened at seeing her favorite treat, and you smiled. "I know they're your favorite, so I made a bunch." She gave you a tight hug, her excitement evident. You swept the area as Bada moved around you, working efficiently to help with the setup.

"By the way, you should bring your team over later."

"Why?" Bada looked at you, her expression showing reluctance. "Girl, it's for the school fundraiser. Besides, I made so much, it'll just go to waste." Bada groaned at the thought. Her team was about to go crazy being in such close proximity to you. In a teasing tone, you told her, "I'll give you the ones you want for free." She agreed immediately, making you laugh at her swift response. After a few minutes, Bada finished putting up the signs and helped with the decoration. She then prepared to leave for a last-minute practice before their performance later that night. "I'll stop by before the dance?"

The school festival kicked off an hour after Bada left you in charge of the booth alongside other students who were helping out. The demand was soaring, and the delicious treats were flying off the shelves. Berry macaroons, red velvet cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, and other goodies disappeared suddenly. You made sure to set aside some items that you knew Bada would love, keeping them hidden away discreetly.

Meanwhile, Team Bebe had just wrapped up their grueling practice and were gearing up for their performance. They all sported matching outfits featuring sturdy black cargo pants, baby tees with their logo, and cropped light blue bomber jackets. Bada led the girls through the crowd, the sea of students parting to make way for the renowned dance crew.

"The stage is that way, Bada," Lusher said, pointing to the left, but Bada didn't pause for a moment. "I promised to stop by somewhere and make sure I have some food left."

The younger members exchanged puzzled glances but continued to trail behind their tall, determined leader. They soon came across a sign displaying a cupcake, and the delightful aroma of sweet desserts filled their senses. "Are we getting food, unnie?" Lusher asked with a joyful clap and a jump. Bada nodded and made her way to the front of the booth, calling out, "Hey, N/n!"

Lusher's eyes widened with surprise as she spotted you holding a tray of beautifully frosted cupcakes. You wore a cute baby pink apron that exuded adorableness, and your beaming smile was a magnet for eager customers. Observing Bada trying to cut in line, you rolled your eyes, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Lusher.

"Is it okay for us to do this?" Lusher whispered to Bada, who responded with a sly grin. You signaled for Bada to move to the back of the booth, and the girls followed their leader. Reaching the rear, they found you holding an adorable light blue box. You opened it for Bada, revealing the delectable treats inside.

Grateful for your kindness, Bada expressed her thanks with a warm hug, and your eyes met with the crew standing behind her, creating a connection that would spark something new and exciting in the coming days.

As Bada and the rest of Team Bebe enjoyed the cupcakes you had prepared, Lusher couldn't help but be mesmerized by your beauty. Your smile was as warm as the sun, and your eyes sparkled with a charm that was hard to resist. Lusher found herself stealing glances at you whenever she thought you weren't looking, trying to hide the fluttering feeling in her chest.

She wanted to make a good impression, so she smiled and said, "Hi there! I'm Lusher. These cupcakes are amazing!" Bada took notice of her friend's boldness, leaving a cheeky smile on her face as she watched the younger blond pursue you.

Your gracious response only deepened her crush on you. "Nice to meet you, Lusher," you replied with your captivating smile. "I'm (Y/N). Thanks, I'm glad you like them."

As the festival continued, Team Bebe's performance drew nearer. Lusher and her crew enjoyed their treats, but Lusher's thoughts drifted back to you. She couldn't help but wonder about the person behind those enchanting cupcakes and that radiant smile.

Lusher felt a rush of excitement as she stood there next to you, even if it was just for a brief moment. She desperately wanted to keep the conversation going but knew that time was short with their performance approaching. As she glanced toward the stage where her crew was getting ready to head, she couldn't resist asking, "Are you going to watch our performance later?"

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world. I've heard amazing things about you guys."

“Would you still be here by the end of the festival?” Lusher asks, hoping for anything but a no. That didn’t go her way, though, feeling down once you say, “I actually won’t be. I have work in 2 hours.” Lusher’s face grows sad as her posture droops, and you take notice, feeling bad. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure to leave something for you before you leave.”

With that assurance, Lusher reluctantly tore themselves away from your booth, eager to make her way to the stage. However, as they danced their hearts out in front of the school, Lusher couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, hoping to catch your eye in the crowd.

Hours passed, and as the festival drew close, Lusher returned to your booth to collect the baked goods you had promised. However, upon her arrival, she was met with dismay—a vacant space where your booth had once stood. You did say you had work, but Lusher truly hoped you could’ve possibly waited for her.

Lusher felt a pang of disappointment, but she didn't linger on it for long. She assumed her chance to see you again had slipped through her fingers. Little did she know that destiny had a different plan for her.

That night, Lusher's daily routine took an unexpected turn. She had to leave her group of friends earlier than usual due to her little brother being home with his babysitter. Her parents were working late, leaving her responsible for caring for her younger brother, Minjae, for the night. So when she enters her home, she expects her brother to run up to her with a cheesy grin like he always does. Yet, she was met with an eerie sound of nothingness.

Her worry grew rapidly. Minjae was still supposed to be awake with his sitter, so why was there no noise? Lusher found herself cautiously stepping up the stairs, making sure she wouldn’t awaken anyone. She finds his door slightly ajar and a petite figure sitting beside her brother as they chatted away. Her eyes go to the babysitter, and she observes the clothing but pauses hard when she recognizes the cream-colored ribbon that held their hair up.

You were her brother’s babysitter? How in the world did she never realize? She wants to ask you many things but hesitates, especially after seeing your bond with her brother.

She watched in awe as you tenderly tucked Minjae into bed, his eyes shimmering with appreciation as he affectionately called you his "girlfriend" or "noona," expressing his deep admiration for you. Lusher couldn't help but beam at the touching sight as you giggled at his fantasies.

You read his favorite book as he fell asleep, ending the story to find him asleep. With a kiss on the forehead and a whisper of goodnight, you were about to exit his room but flinched when you saw Lusher standing at the door, leaning her head on the frame as her face held a sense of gratitude. Confusion brews on your face as you look back at Minjae, who looked peaceful as he slept. “Your Minjae’s noona?” You ask, and Lusher smiles, nodding. “So you’re Seoyoung?” You announce, stating it as if you were just asking yourself. “I’m just as surprised seeing you here. My parents never told me Jae’s sitter went to my school. There was literally no clue given to me,” She jokes, causing you to giggle at a hushed volume.

“I’ll head out since you’re here now?” Lusher nods and walks you downstairs as you get your items situated. Before leaving, you perk up, remembering something as you rummaged through your bag. You pulled out a small box and opened it to show Lusher, and she stood there, bewildered. “I did promise you some treats, right? I didn’t really know what you liked, so it’s pretty basic stuff from the sale today.” You tell her, feeling a bit shy at the interaction, putting a smile on Lusher’s face. “I really do appreciate it, Y/n, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you around?” Lusher’s heart flutters at the question. You? Were you hoping to see her? It was like a dream come true.

Over the following weeks, Lusher began to reorganize her entire schedule. Whenever Bada had to miss dance practice due to her projects, Lusher seized the opportunity to spend more time with her beloved brother and, naturally, to be in your company. One evening, while you were cooking a mouthwatering meal for Minjae, Lusher couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. She remarked, "You're so wonderful with Minjae," attempting to initiate a conversation.

You looked up from the stove with a hint of surprise. "Oh, thanks. He’s a good kid, so it’s a rewarding job for me."

Lusher's inquisitiveness grew, and she couldn't resist inquiring further, "Is babysitting the only thing you do? Like nothing in regards to working in a kitchen or bakery?"

You chuckled softly and explained, "I have another part-time. I also work in my mom's bakery on weekends."

Over the following six months, you and Lusher would share countless bonding moments. Whether baking cookies together, providing Minjae with homework assistance, or simply enjoying each other's company as a makeshift family, your connection deepened with each passing day. Unbeknownst to both of you, your lives were about to become more intertwined than ever imagined.

Lusher decided to visit your bakery since she had never been there after knowing you for a few months already. She was accompanied by Tatter and Kyma, her fellow dancers from Team Bebe. The three friends entered the cozy bakery, and the delightful scent of freshly baked goods enveloped them like a warm hug.

You were behind the counter, a welcoming smile gracing your face as you noticed them. "Well, hello there, Miss Seoyoung. What can I get for you today?" you asked teasingly.

Lusher couldn't help but feel excited as she exchanged playful remarks with you. She gestured to the delicious array of treats on display. "We'll take a little bit of everything, please."

You chuckled warmly. "Coming right up!" As you began to assemble a selection of delectable treats, you couldn't help but admire Lusher's lively spirit and her friends' enthusiasm. As you handed them a box filled with an assortment of your finest baked goods, Lusher couldn't contain her gratitude. "Thank you so much, (Y/N). These look amazing!"

With a playful wink, you replied, "My pleasure! Enjoy, and best of luck with your dance competition. I'll be rooting for Team Bebe!" The girls exchanged excited glances, knowing your support meant the world, especially to the sub-leader. "Actually," Lusher began, "we were wondering if you'd like to attend our competition next week. We'd love to have you there!"

You paused for a moment, genuinely touched by the invitation. "Of course. Count me in." The week passed quickly, and the day of the dance competition arrived. Team Bebe was in high spirits, fueled by your encouraging presence in the audience. As they took the stage, your face in the crowd gave Lusher an incredible boost of confidence.

After taking the stage with a breathtaking performance, the crowd applauded, and the girls took their final bow. Lusher's heart raced as she watched your eyes light up with pride. As the group gathered backstage, basking in the success of their performance, you made your way to congratulate them. Lusher could feel her heart pounding with anticipation. With an adrenaline rush, she decided it was the perfect moment to seize the opportunity.

With a trembling yet determined voice, she said, "I have something to ask you, (Y/N). I've enjoyed getting to know you so much, and I can't help but feel a strong connection between us. Would you consider being my girlfriend?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, and a radiant smile spread across your face. "I'd be absolutely thrilled, Lusher." You replied, sealing the moment with a sweet and tender kiss on her check.

The applause from the performance continued to echo in the background as you and Lusher embarked on a new chapter together, one filled with sweet surprises and the promise of a love that had blossomed amidst cupcakes and dance routines.

Tag List: @tikitsune @luvjanexx @blurmelonmilk @froufrousnowman @amararosesblog

#ssivinee #gxg #wlw #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #bebe #swf2 #swf2 x reader #lusher x f reader #lusher x fem reader #bebe x reader #bebe lusher #bebe lusher x fem reader

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tokoyamisstuff · 1 year ago

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You get them a cat HC's

Featuring Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy and Kuro!

Warnings: None.

Notes: GN! Reader

A/N: I just needed to get this silly little idea out of my head!

"Oh? Well, I guess another one won't hurt."

Turns out his castle is a refuge for all kinds of animals. He's taking care of injured or abandoned beings of all sort.

Let's be honest, his personality has a lot of a feral cat as well. You find the similarities hilarious, while he still can't see it.

One time you walked in on him petting it - one of the rare occasions you ever saw him smile.

Loves when the cat sits on his lap while he's in his armchair by the fire, sipping on a glass of wine. An adorable image, and his favourite kind of self-care.

It will rub itself against his beard all the time. Who can blame it?

Needs at least one new outfit a week since the cat will always wreck the feather of his hat or scratch his leather clothes.

Talks to it with a way higher voice than usually, and yes, he does babytalk.

-><--><--><--><-

"Great idea! I actually thought about getting a mascot for the crew anyways."

This man is like a Disney Princess. Just gives off a vibe that makes an animal automatically love him.

Is pretty chill about standard annoying cat behavior. This pet will be misbehaving a lot since he just takes everything with a smile. Can't really be mad at all.

It will probably have a standard seat on his shoulder and loves hiding under his cape.

Always buys snacks when he's on land and even shares his meal with it.

Talks about the cat as if it's an actual person, and talks a lot. Literally his new bestie, you're almost jealous.

This animal has seen some shit. He'll definetly not go anywhere without it and do some weird party tricks when drunk.

Would protect it with his life, certainly.

Poor guy is actually a lil' bit allergic, but endures for your and it's sake.

-><--><--><--><-

"...fine. But if it goes anywhere near my stuff I'll throw it overboard!"

Will have a full blown rant about how cats are ungrateful and illoyal little shits.

Isn't actually an animal person in general. Especially cats and dogs are a little too fascinated with his nose for his liking - it looks like a toy, after all.

It follows him around despite his best efforts not to. He gets used to it quickly however and starts talking to it. It helps him get his thoughts in order, actually.

Lets you keep it in the end because this man just can't say no to any of your wishes. Won't admit it though, probably says it's because they're useful to catch mice on the ship or something.

Throws a tantrum at least once a day, especially when the cat got anywhere near his maps.

Unsuccessfully tries to teach it any tricks for them to participate in the circus.

Is often caught juggling for it and acts like the cat just happened to be there while he was practicing.

It's an open secret that he adores this animal. It's also the only one allowed to sit on his throne besides him.

-><--><--><--><-

"...what an astonishing creature, indeed."

It takes everything in this man to not drop the facade.

Wants to keep it so badly but hesistantly talks about hygiene and how the cat's presence may negatively affect Kaya's health.

He's actually the most skilled when it comes to properly train those stubborn creatures.

Anyways, he still will get scratched and hissed at. It breaks his heart.

Indulges it as good as he can. Only the best food, it's own room in the mansion and always new toys.

Always nerds out some biological or historical facts about those animals.

Loves to absentmindedly stroke it's fur whenever it sits on his lap. Looks like a Bond villain when doing so.

#one piece #buggy x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #kuro x reader #headcanons #writing #self insert #dracule mihawk #buggy d clown #shanks #captain kuro

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m1ssunderstanding · 10 months ago

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Days Eleven and Twelve

The Different Beatle Arrivals outside apple are interesting to me.

Ringo: arrives first, in the passenger’s seat, has a chummy remark for his driver, a cheeky grin for the camera, and a kind nod for the scruffs.

John and Yoko: arrive second, in the back of their on-brand, white thing, with no acknowledgement of anyone (and Yoko accidentally goes for the front door then changes directions when she sees John going around the side)

George: drives himself, glances over his shoulder, locks his car door, and goes in. Again, no acknowledgement.

Paul: walks, studiously ignores the camera, bestows a condescending nod at the scruffs. (shouldn’t be sexy. Is. what else is new?)

Everything the scruffs said was perfection. Where are their parents? Who is taking care of them? Do they not go to school?

So glad for the boys that they took a day to hide from the cameras. I hope they all traded meaningful items of clothing and meditated and circle jerked and told each other how brilliant they were. (Oh gosh. Can you all imagine a circle-jerk plus yoko? Her and Paul furiously compete over who can hold John's eye contact?)

Short queens making the beatles look like child-labor supporters.

Look at that cute little impish grin. What do we think? Did George and John actually have a punch-up? George Martin went out of his way on at least two occasions to say that they did, in fact, come to blows. But I didn’t see any evidence on John the next day, and they both seem extremely comfortable joke-fighting here, where I don’t think they would if they’d real-fought a week or so ago. I don’t know, I think it’s very up for debate. But if they did, I actually think it would be a testament to the importance of the John and George dynamic. We always say how it shows how much John must’ve cared about Paul to sprint down the road and jump his fence over a missed recording session. What would it say about how much John must’ve cared about George if he punched him when he said he’d quit?

Either way, their *meaningful* rendition of “You are my sunshine” is heart-melting.

Yoko, the og sad beige mom.

Add juggling to Ringo’s talents in his cabaret/circus act with Paul.

Every old man obsessed with “tough, acerbic Lennon” needs to have “My rock and roll finger is bleeding, my rock and roll finger is hurt” played on a loop in their heads every time they open their mouths until they shut up.

Paul, why are you literally strong-arming Glyn into the studio? This man does not know how to touch another person.

Maybe they kept Magic Alex around just for laughs? It’s good to hear anyway, that they are fully aware they’re being conned.

The way George and Paul just in sync jump into their old choreography.

The way they could really have just gone off and done their own things while Glyn finishes setting up. But the idea just doesn’t occur to them. Why would they want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else?

I feel like John right now because I’m like enjoying Paul’s sexy drumming face and then the camera switches and I’m like Oh Yoko you’re so pretty. And is this another *meaningful* cover? I’m going to have to make a list of all these and go through after I’m done with this and see which ones I think actually have a double meaning. “My baby left me” by Crudup. My main evidence here being Yoko’s Jim Halpert expression as John’s singing this at Paul.

How to get Paul to stop messing with your shit. A demonstration by Ringo Starr.

John is Not having Paul reading their bad press for the cameras.

And today, it’s John that needs a little Ringofection. I wonder if it had anything to do with “Aaaaall I want is youuuuuuuuu. Everything has got to be the way you want it toooooooooo.”

George looking at Ringo’s jumping jacks. I agree.

“Richard Rogers has got nothing on this boy. . . . Ah, sometimes, John, I don’t know.” “I just make it up as I go along.” “Oh, is that how you do it?” Again. He’s being silly, but he really does think you’re the smartest boy in the whole wide world, John. I hope you know that. (he definitely does not know that.)

ICONIC. One of my favorite moments of the whole series. Not a glance at each other. Perfectly synchronized.

Any particular significance with Dicky Murdock that anyone knows about?

Another favorite moment. The absolute marshmallow softness. Oh to have footage of Paul teaching John guitar chords on one of their childhood beds.

Not going to say it again, but boy am I thinking it.

Someone needs to make a compilation of all the times someone’s been caught giving John and Paul a WTF look.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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kivaember · 8 months ago

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when you get the urge to just crank out 2k+ oneshot about rusty getting briefly jealous over ayre when 621 tells him about her............ well anyways. here, enjoy! (it's not 2am i should sleep)

jealousy

Rusty wasn't quite sure when it started exactly, these talks with the new merc in town.

The days were long on Rubicon, and the nights even longer, and as the stalemate stretched between Arquebus and Balam, so too did the monotony of the various sorties Rusty was sent out on. Usually he was alone, performing well at 'surgical strikes' or 'sabotage runs', but sometimes he was deployed alongside the MT squad he was the commander of. There wasn't much chatter there, though, except for 'yes sir!' or 'understood, commander!' from the grunts, or Snail's dulcet tones drawling through the comms.

With the new merc, it was a little different.

He didn't talk for one. Raven only ever communicated through text, and even these were very short phrases like ack, or negative, or clarify. It should've been off-putting, but Rusty found a strange sort of openness to the blank canvas Raven offered during sorties. No matter what Rusty said, Raven always replied with an ack at the very least.

Acknowledgement. I acknowledge your words.

It was little things at first, inconsequential. After their first team up at The Wall, where Raven survived where he shouldn't've, Rusty had been curious yet wary. He knew that the merc was running a stolen license - he'd met the original Raven and had narrowly escaped with his life in the encounter - and he'd heard of Handler Walter's reputation. His Hounds tended to be high-quality pilots, no matter their outdated augmentations and their equally outdated ACs - and they bore no loyalty to no one but Walter, who was a dangerous wildcard in his own right.

So Rusty had tried to scope out this 'hound'. Got absolutely fuck-all in return.

"So, where're you from?" Ack. Negative. "Nowhere?" Ack. "How old are you?" Ack. Negative. "You don't know?" Ack. "What's your favourite food?" Ack. Negative. "You don't have one?" Ack. "What're your plans after Rubicon?" Ack. Negative. "None?" Ack.

Was it cageyness? Maybe he was so brainfried he didn't remember? Rusty didn't know, but it prompted him to give him examples in return, even if they were all blatant lies:

"I'm from the Jupiter colonies, though I grew up in Tau Ceti." Ack. "I'm almost forty years old." Ack. "My favourite food is seafood paella." Ack. "I plan to take a two week vacation to the beach after Rubicon and blow all my bonus money on a new car." Ack.

And from there...

Rusty didn't know when it started. When his probing questions getting stonewalled turned into him just... talking to Raven, if only to hear the ack in return. How his blatant lies shifted into something just half a step away from vaguely truthful, on those long days and even longer nights, during sorties where they trashed Balam outposts and sent their MTs running, or harassed Liberation Front supply lines (yet, somehow, those Rubiconists always somehow managed to slip away before they could be captured for re-education, strange that....)

It'd become a sort of catharsis for him, a comfort. Maybe this was what it was supposed to be like when you went to therapy, having someone you could just talk at to sort out your own thoughts, not having to juggle with actually carrying a conversation, just needing someone to say yup, i hear you, i'm listening, without giving needless platitudes or advice - or worse, asking questions.

Hah.

It was kind of pathetic, really.

But for someone like Rusty, this was the best he was going to get. Once he'd finished his mission, no one would ever want to speak to him again - provided he wasn't buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, with his name synonymous to traitor.

So, despite the slippery slope this was, with Raven squatting in the nebulous region of threat i am keeping close to observe and one of the few decent people in my fucked up social circle i'd be sad to kill one day, Rusty kept talking.

And eventually... Raven spoke back.

"-nyway, it's getting a bit awkward right now. Freud's more than a little antsy at how Snail keeps giving me all the assault missions while he's staying benched just in case, and I have no idea how to tell him that Snail's probably just trying to kill me by overworking me. Well, tell him in a way to say 'this isn't a good thing!' Pretty sure Freud would find that a fun afternoon, dodging assassination attempts..."

'Ack.'

"Honestly, I'm a little jealous of you sometimes, buddy," Rusty sighed half-jokingly. He toed a chunk of scrap with STEEL HAZE's clawed foot, checking it for mines. Balam had gone a little nuts with this current outpost of theirs, and the place was lousy with them. "You get to pick and choose your missions, and don't have to deal with office politics. Now there's a battlefield that takes no survivors, let me tell you."

'Ack.'

"In fact, it's just you and Walter, isn't it?" Rusty mused. He knew Arquebus had already exhausted its information network to dig up as many skeletons as it could on Walter, and amazingly enough they'd only come up with a few bones. Walter's past was shadier than midnight fog, and Raven basically manifested out of thin air with how non-existent his papertrail was.

Or, rather, how fraudulent it was. The original C4-621 had died over two years ago. Whoever this 621 was... no one had a clue, no one but Raven himself and Walter, that is.

'Ack. Negative.'

Rusty paused, putting his very cautious examination of his immediate surroundings on hold as he fixed STEEL HAZE's ocular feeds onto STALKER.

"It isn't?"

Raven didn't respond, which was odd. He always gave at least an ack. Had he said something he wasn't supposed to? Rusty was intrigued... but he knew he'd get nothing else out of him. Still, it was a scrap of info-

'i have a friend.'

Rusty blinked at the words that flashed across his HUD, in the little chatbox that was designated for STALKER's text comms. It was not ack, negative or clarify. It was actually a full on sentence, the very first that Rusty had ever read from the mercenary.

He was actually speechless for several moments, the words actually taking some time to fully process their meaning.

"A... friend?" Rusty repeated.

'Ack.'

Rusty waited, because in any normal social setting this would be when elaboration occurred, but after three whole minutes where they just stood there staring at each other, Rusty realised nope, that was it. Raven just upended the norm to drop an enigmatic sentence and decided to explain nothing. Typical.

"...who's this friend?" Rusty tried. "You got a name for them? Any details? C'mon, throw me a bone here."

There was no immediate response. Rusty waited impatiently.

'Ayre. She's a Rubiconian. I have no bones. Sorry.'

Ayre? A Rubiconian? She?

"Huh..." Rusty's stomach felt weird, a sort of knotted tension he couldn't quite explain. A Rubiconian... he didn't know anyone by the name of 'Ayre', but then again, he's been away for ten years and didn't know everyone... as an independent mercenary, too, Raven probably took jobs for the RLF - Rusty already knew of two he'd taken - so... probably someone from one of the other cells...

A friend though... he probably interacted with her outside of missions to have that close of a relationship. Two months, though? This was the first time Rusty had prised anything other than ack, negative or clarify from the guy in those months, and it turned out he had a full on friend in his back pocket this whole time? Talk about a shock...

"How'd... you meet?" Rusty asked, aiming for casual but his words coming out all stiff instead.

'Mission.'

Right, of course.

Rusty abruptly returned to the task at hand: checking their ground route for mines as they inched through the outer perimetre of the Balam outpost. Usually they'd just fly over the damn things, but Balam had installed some heavy-hitting anti-air cannons, the outpost practically a bristling porcupine with how many of them were primed and ready to shoot a fly out of the sky so... here they were, tiptoeing through a minefield instead.

It was tedious but doable. STEEL HAZE's LIDAR system was finetuned enough to detect the mines before he entered their detonation range, and STALKER was a repurposed surveyor AC. It was slow but safe. Mostly slow.

'You too.'

"Huh?" Rusty blinked at the sudden text, confused from the lack of context. "Me what?"

'Friend.'

"...oh." It clicked. "I'm your friend too?"

'Ack.'

"Thanks, buddy," Rusty said, injecting some friendly cheer into his tone, even as he felt... conflicted over the whole thing. His stomach hurt like he'd just eaten a bowl of stinging nettles, his mouth twisted into a grimace as his emotions bounced between tiredly resigned and intensely guilty.

He didn't return the sentiment, and Raven said nothing else. In fact, the rest of the mission was completely silent, broken only by Rusty giving the occasional order or situation update as they penetrated the minefield and destroyed the anti-air guns in the outpost, the Balam MTs routed and in full retreat.

Rusty knew it was out of character. He was chatty, especially with Raven, but his mind kept churning over this mystery friend. Ayre. She. Apparently been buddies with Raven for a while.

He was surprised Walter would've tolerated it. He always weighed in whenever he was on comms on their sorties, snapping at Raven to focus on the mission, or curtly telling Rusty to stop distracting his hound. Needless to say, he and Walter did not see eye-to-eye often, and Rusty couldn't help but feel that Walter held a hint of disdain for him specifically. He had no idea what he'd done to earn that mysterious handler's ire, though. Getting too friendly with his dog, maybe?

In which case...

"Hey, Raven," Rusty said, too curious for his own good. "Does Walter know about this Ayre of yours?"

'Ack.'

"He does? And he's... fine with her?" Rusty asked in mild surprise. Huh, maybe Walter was fine with his hound knowing nice girls? Well, as nice as freedom fighter girls could be... or Walter disliked corporate mercenaries? But he was oddly friendly with Michigan, so that couldn't be it...

Maybe he was just plain homophobic? Thought Rusty was some evil gay trying to seduce his hound to bat for the Arquebus team only? Rusty couldn't help but snort at that theory.

'He doesn't think she exists.'

Uh...

"He... what?"

'He doesn't think she exists.'

Rusty had no idea how to unpack that.

"...like, does he think she's a catfish or...?"

'? Catfish can't talk?'

"What?"

'She's not a fish?'

"No, I- not that kind of fish. A catfish."

'Catfish are a diverse group of ray-finned fish. They can't communicate with humans.'

"No, no, not- it's- it's describing a technique people use, to decieve someone with a fake identity. Usually in romance scams... it's called catfishing. So, a catfish. A person faking their identity to scam you out of something."

'Ack. Negative. Ayre is not 'fake' or scamming me.'

"But Walter thinks she is?"

'He thinks she doesn't exist.'

Why did Rusty feel like they were going in circles...? He let out a laugh, amused despite the frustratingly confusing nature of this entire discussion, and shook his head.

"Buddy... why doesn't he think she exists?"

The response was a long time coming. Long enough that Rusty thought Raven had dropped the topic entirely - even if it would've left Rusty thoroughly scratching his head on the apparent Schrodinger nature of one Ayre Rubicon, when:

'Because she doesn't have a body and only I can hear her voice. He thinks she's a hallucination.'

...

Okay.

Rusty had no idea how to unpack that.

"Huh," he said, with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. "I see."

He said nothing else. What else do you say to that. Really.

'You don't think she exists either.'

"I..." Rusty could practically sense some sort of wall being pulled up between him and Raven, leaving him with only a split second to make a snap decision. Tell the truth and say yes, I actually agree with your handler for once and think she's a hallucination, and alienate Raven, or lie and say no, I believe you, tell me more, and end up spending the rest of his time humouring Raven and his hallucination in full earnest.

And... really, what was wrong in that?

This hallucination clearly didn't interfere in Raven's mission performance, and he seemed to be otherwise connected to reality. Maybe Ayre was just a manifestation of Raven's loneliness, an imaginary friend he'd conjured up for himself and just couldn't let go of. Rusty knew Gen Fours had it hard. Legally, they weren't even considered humans, just intellectual property or military assets. Maybe this 'Ayre' was the only "human contact" he'd had until Rusty had come along.

With that in mind... Rusty's decision was easy.

"I believe you," Rusty said gently. "Just trying to wrap my head around not having a body... must be hard."

There was a pause, a long one, and Rusty waited to see if Raven would see through him and scorn him for trying to humour him, or if he was just-

'She says she's used to it, but there're some things she wants to do but can't, without a body.'

"Oh? Like what?"

And just like that, their roles were reversed. Raven's responses were slow, typed out as they were, but Rusty was getting more than ack, negative or clarify, and he felt a little rueful that it was because of an imaginary friend when he'd been standing right here for months...

But it was fine. Rusty'll show him that he didn't have to pretend to get his human interaction. Just like how Raven quietly listened and acknowledged his words, Rusty'll will do the same. And even if Raven kept hallucinating this Ayre, what did it matter, so long as it didn't interfere in his connection to reality?

Out of all vices Rusty had seen in his fellow pilots... this was the most harmless one

...if a little sad.

#armored core #armored core 6 #v.iv rusty #c4 621 #viv621 #fanfic #when ur slapped with a fic idea instead of sleeping...#anyway here's rusty getting jealous over ayre for a hot second

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