#“he's just some white guy in a cardigan--” “EXACTLY”

[adelphenium]

this one goes out to my sister -- does not give a hoot about hockey except for one mr kyle dubas

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 3

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, mentions of abuse moth never uses y/n.

wc: 4.3k

a/n: I've had a tough couple of weeks (I mean, this week, who hasn't). I hope this will bring some of you joy this weekend. You deserve it. If it did, please please let me know. That would really cheer me up. Also, in case you missed it, going forward I'm going to be updating every 2 weeks. I really hope I can keep it up!

I must thanks @moonlitbirdie and @lowlights for the beta and their massive support of me in life and in writing this. Also thank you @schnarfer for helping me brainstorm some plot!

🐈‍⬛

Aunt Margot’s ringing up a tattooed girl with glasses when you stomp into the shop. You swing the door open so violently that it’s bell thwacks into the wall. You had almost a mile in the woods to walk it off but your anger has only grown, ballooning into a hot rage that’s devouring everything in your path.

“How was it?” Margot asks with a sly smile once the customer’s left with their little brown paper bag.

“River’s disgusting,” you announce. 

“What happened?” her expression immediately clouds with concern. 

“This is exactly why I don’t date witches. I told you that I didn't want to be set up with him.” you rant, blowing past her into what was once the dining room. 

There’s still a turned leg table at its center, now piled with goods for sale. Percy winds his way between beeswax candles and hand-poured soaps.  

“Oh yes I really forced him on you,” she says with sarcasm. “I recall the two of you were practically necking in front of the whole coven last night.”

You’re not sure if it’s the idea that you almost fucked River or the term necking that grosses you out more but you cringe.

“He’s so backwards. Guys like him make me ashamed to be a witch,” you say. 

“How can you say such a thing? Ashamed to be a witch! Do I need to remind you just how lucky you are? After what we’ve been through? Our kind was almost wiped off the face of the earth. By mortals like your little boyfriends,” she says. 

“I’m so tired of hearing that. It’s a shitty excuse. Mortals killed witches hundreds of years ago so we get a free pass to do whatever we want. To treat our familiars like slaves,” you reply. 

She scoffs. “Percy do you hear that?”

He squeaks indignantly. 

“He’s offended by that,” she tells you. 

“He should be. It’s worse than offensive. It’s evil!” you say. Your voice echoes so loudly it rattles the antique silvered mirror hanging over the mantle. 

Margot gathers Percy in her palm calmly stroking his white fur, her eyebrow arched in a way that tells you she’s trying to be patient. You shouldn’t take out it on her. She’s never been anything but good to her familiar. 

“Do you know what he said about Ezra?” You can feel tears begin to bite at your eyes. 

She frowns when she reaches into your mind to hear it herself. 

“His family’s always held onto the old ways," she says, shaking her head in disappointment. 

“Don’t make excuses for him,” you snap. 

She tucks Percy into the pocket of her cardigan and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“He’s an idiot and I’m proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself too. All of you,” she says. 

–

The basement of the Arcane Page might be described as spooky, what with its cobwebs and dusty, amber jars. Apothecary shelves stocked with potions, rare ingredients, and animal bones meet the low ceilings. Disused broomsticks sit in the corner along with willow branches and a black goat’s horn. There are all manner of spell books down here along with hand written notes from your ancestors. At the center of the room there’s a wide oak table carved with runes and spells. It smells like ink and dried leaves and magic. 

The warm sunset streams through the egress windows catching the dust that floats in the air. Margot didn’t have to be a mind reader to know you wanted to be alone and so she didn’t put up a fight when you offered to close up on your own. After you closed the register and locked the front door, you ventured down to the part of the shop meant only for witches. 

Your plan was just to have some quiet before venturing upstairs where Ezra would be waiting. For all you knew he was still huddled under the bed. You could abhor River but only one of you had actually hurt your familiar. You couldn’t bring yourself to face Ezra knowing you were just as bad as the rest of them. 

You start opening old books. Spell books and ancient texts. You’re looking for something, what it is you can’t be certain. All you know is that you felt drawn down here, your fingers itching for the parchment pages. 

When you were a young witch, you came here often. There were spell books that had become your favorites, embellished with intricate illustrations. You memorized charms for changing the color of your hair and shuffled a dog-eared set of tarot cards. This was where you cast some of your very first spells. Magic made the world feel full of wonder yet it gave you some control, an order to things that would otherwise be chaos. 

That’s gone now. All of it mixed up— pride and shame, power and weakness, love and loss. 

You pull a large volume from the shelf, its soft leather cover embossed with constellations. heavy and thick, You need both hands to carry it to the table where it lands with a thud and a gasp of dust escapes into the air. 

You turn it open, the aged glue of its spine cracking. You run your fingers over the delicate pages, so thin you can practically see through them. They’re covered in a careful hand and you can’t help but wonder about the witches that set these spells down, what advice they’d have for you. 

The magic in here is convoluted, singular spells that spill over pages and pages with diagrams and celestial calendars. Some are written in verse so dense you can barely make out their meaning. They remind you of the cadence of Ezra’s voice. 

These are not small acts of witchcraft. There are instructions for summoning beasts and recipes for potions that restore youth to be brewed specially on the solstice. Some of it feels dangerous— curses against unfaithful lovers, spells to wake the dead and use them for your bidding. 

You read through them all with mild curiosity. You have no reason to reanimate a dead horse or brew a cure for quinsy— whatever that is— though it would be amusing to cast a perpetual dancing spell on River if you didn’t think it would kill him. 

You chuckle to yourself as you imagine him dancing uncontrollably, his limbs uncontrollable, as you turn the page. And there you see it. 

What you didn’t know what you were looking for has found you.  

–

You barge into the apartment with a wild look in your eye. Ezra’s still curled up in your spot on the bed. He’s been there most of the afternoon, letting bad memories flood his mind. 

After the elders turned him, Ezra promised himself that he would be better. He’d been selfish and dishonest. Quick to anger. It was out of necessity, he’d told himself, but obviously it had only brought him suffering. He would change. But had he? He’d let you care for him, had loved you and fantasized about you, and he’d hurt you.  

You’re calling his name, breathless from running up the stairs, with a leather bound book under your arm. 

Ezra lingers in the bedroom door, guilt still festering. 

“Look,” you say, setting the tome open on the little breakfast table with a thud. It seems as though you’ve forgotten everything, a whirl of urgency about you. 

Ezra hops up and seats himself in front of the weathered pages. He takes in the verses there, the drawing scratched with quill and ink. It’s complicated and obscure, laborious instructions that must be followed to the letter. Behind him you’re nearly bouncing with untamed energy. 

“What are you showing me?” he asks. He knows. The spell is exact but its outcome is clear. 

“It’s a transfiguration spell,” you explain. 

“That much is clear but—“

“I want to do it,” you say. There’s a determination in your words, a fiery assuredness that makes Ezra’s heart pick up. “I want to turn you back into a human.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No. It’s all right here. And it says under the moon of All Hallow’s Eve. That’s just in a few weeks,” you add excitedly. 

“Little mage, I needn’t explain why this is folly,” he says.

It pains him to say it and not just because being human again would be the greatest gift. Your expression is a mix of frustration and heartbreak. 

“You propose to defy the Elders’ judgment. They won’t take kindly to that,” he says. 

“Fuck them,” you hiss. “The laws have changed. If you were convicted now, they’d take your powers but they wouldn’t make you live like this.”

“They’ll take yours if you do something so foolish,” he says. It comes out harsh but he’s angry that you’d risk your powers for him. That he wants so badly to accept. 

“You don’t deserve to be a fucking cat. You should get a normal life,” you say, your body sagging onto the sofa like it can’t stand the weight of it all anymore. 

“That’s quite a touching sentiment.” Ezra tries to couch the words in sarcasm but his voice breaks. He jumps down from the table and situates himself on the cushion beside you. 

“Why didn’t you tell them?” you ask, defeated. Tearful eyes look towards the ceiling before falling onto him. “When they put you on trial. Why didn’t you tell the elders what he’d done?”

Ezra’s head sinks between his shoulders. 

Damon was the kind of witch that only used his powers to numb himself to the rest of the world. He brewed potions that made him neglectful of his daughter one moment, belligerent towards her the next. Ezra had never considered himself a do-gooder. He saw the girl with bruises and said nothing. He was so disinterested in the goings on, he’d never even bothered to learn her name until his trial. Largely, he ignored them until the night he took Damon’s life. 

Ezra hadn’t meant to engage him. It was a snide remark he made that pulled Damon’s attention away from berating Cee. Soon the two of them came to blows, Damon throwing the first punch with an accusation. Ezra was scrappy but there was a point when Damon had him pinned down and he thought his time was up. So when he was able to break free, Ezra made sure he wouldn’t be bested. 

“You can’t understand how precarious it was for us then,” he says. “A hundred years of witch hunts. The life of a witch, even one as detestable as Damon was precious.”

Maybe if they’d known how Damon treated one of their kind, they would have shown Ezra leniency. But the real reason he accepted his punishment was because he knew it had been his own fault. Had he intervened earlier, gotten the Elders involved, it wouldn’t have ended in murder. You might think him a hero, but when the Elders made Ezra her familiar, Cee made it clear that she did not. 

You sigh, a slight shake of your head, and you sink back into the sofa. 

“You are a more than capable witch but this is ancient magic. It took the powers of no less than three elders to change me,” Ezra says as if it’s any consolation. 

“Maybe Margot—“ 

“You’d both risk your powers,” he stops you. “No, little mage. It’s impossible.”

—

“I’m not coming,” you say. 

Aunt Margot is loading a carpet bag into the trunk of her station wagon. Nearly a month has passed since the equinox. Halloween is two days away which means it’s time for your annual trip to Salem where the coven will be gathered through Samhain. The celebrations will be days long, singing and food, apple bobbing and fortune telling. Your little gathering doesn't compare. 

Last night you couldn’t bring yourself to pack.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

”I’m sorry,” you say with a shrug. 

You’ve been waffling on this decision for weeks but you’ve made up your mind. Even if it disappoints Aunt Margot.

”But everyone will miss you. And Simone’s making her gumbo,” she says.

”I know,” you say. 

As Margot babbles out more reasons why you really shouldn’t stay home (“The spirit walk just won’t be the same without you”), Ezra snakes between your legs. You were nervous of how she’d take this news and Ezra promised to be moral support. 

She throws out her hands with a pout. “I can’t stand thinking about you alone for All Hallows Eve,” she says. 

“I won’t be alone,” you say, picking Ezra up and scratching under his chin.  

“I will miss the gumbo,” he tells her. 

“No Ezra,” she contemplates. “Maybe I can actually win at Scrabble.” 

“Perchance,” he says, and you know she’s mentally tabulating the word score. 

“Is this because of River?” She narrows her eyes. 

It’s not. While you certainly won’t miss him, you wouldn’t let some dickwad keep you from having a good time. It’s all of them, really. Esme and the rest of them. Knowing how they think of Ezra, how they think of you, it makes you want to scream. You can’t subject him to their scorn and disdain, you won’t. You’d rather spend All Hallows Eve at home. 

And then there’s that little part of you. The one that knows it’s preposterous and downright idiotic yet still hopes that you can put the Halloween moon to good use. Ezra shut that down fast but, oh, how good would it feel for the funny little witch to give them all the middle finger? . 

“I’m just not in the spirit,” you say. 

“Well it won’t feel like All Hallows Eve without you,” she sighs. 

“I know,” you say. There’s a lump in your throat. You’ve never been apart from her for Samhain. There are countless warm memories of Halloweens past. When Margot got you your very first cauldron. The taste of pumpkin pie. The year of the freak snowstorm. 

With another sigh and the jingle of her bracelets, Margot pulls you into an embrace. The smell of vetiver hangs off her hair and you breathe it in deeply. 

“I’ll light a candle for you,” she promises. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

“And I’m going to jinx River’s socks. They’ll be damp for a month,” she says. 

You laugh. 

The horn of her car beeps and you break the hug to see Percy appear at the top of the steering wheel. 

“He’s worried about the traffic on the Thruway,” she tells you. “I’m coming!”

“Take care of her,” she says to Ezra, petting along his jaw

He nods. 

When Margot’s tail lights disappear down the street, you sit beside Ezra on the front steps. 

“You could go,” he says. 

“I made the right choice,” you say, stroking down the shiny fur on his back. 

“So what now?” he asks. 

“I don’t know. I've always wanted to go trick or treating,” you say. 

“That’s blasphemy, little mage,” Ezra quips. 

— 

Ezra holds you in his arms. Human arms. Your skin is warm against his as you lay tangled together. The morning light catches on the prism beads you have hanging in your bedroom window, little rainbows dancing across the walls and rumpled bedspread.  His lips brush across your forehead, leaving a ghost of a kiss at your hairline. You sigh dreamily and your fingertips graze his bare chest. You‘re just barely awake when you turn your face up to him, your eyes warm like you missed him while you were sleeping. He greets you with a kiss, your lips opening to him with a low hum. His fingers tangle with yours as the grasp the spindles in the headboard. 

His name comes out of you in a gasp of breath. 

He’s had these dreams for years but they’ve been happening almost every night since you showed him that spell. Sometimes passionate– your thighs opening as he explores your body— but just as often innocuous. Picking flowers in the meadow by his boyhood home. Bringing you tea as you read on the porch swing. 

Each dream is so alluring, even the most banal, he wakes up with the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to ask you to risk it all and turn him. 

You haven’t brought it up again in the weeks since you set that spellbook in front of him. Maybe you thought better of it. Maybe you were just angry. You told him about your spat with River and, while it touched him that you’d come to his defense, he knew it was an impulsive choice. 

Either way, it’s for the best.

It wouldn’t end well. Of course, you’d be putting yourself at risk. He’d made that very clear to you. There are a thousand other reasons why it shouldn’t be done. He’s probably forgotten how to be human and what he would do with himself in this day and age, he has no idea. The only job experience he’s had in the past two hundred years is rat catching.

The logistics of being a human matter little to him, though. His real concern is with you.

He’ll no longer be your companion. You won’t scratch behind his ears, invite him to lay in your lap. You’ll probably expect him to move on and live the life he’s always wanted. He can’t think of one that doesn’t involve you.

At least as a cat, he never has to know if you’d choose another man over him.

He’s laying awake, pondering this once again, when your eyes crack open. Warm mid morning light pours in through the lace curtains, bathing you in a honeyed glow. With Margot out of town and the store closed, the two of you had been on your own, spending the previous dsy together. A walk in the woods, a visit to the coffee shop where other patrons greeted Ezra with friendly scritches. You bailed on plans with the mortal Connor to watch movies and snuggle Ezra on the couch. It should have been enough, that’s what he thought when the credits rolled and you were snoring on the couch, your fingers buried in his scruff. He could share a lifetime of this with you and be grateful for it. But he was greedy. 

”Happy Halloween,” you say. 

You pull him close and he nuzzles into your warm skin. 

“You were in my dream,” you say. Your voice is still rough from sleep, still somewhere far away like you haven’t fully regained consciousness. 

Ezra’s cheeks heat under his fur. It’s not just the raspiness of your throat but his shame. If only you knew what he’d been dreaming about. 

“I was doing that spell. To change you,” you say. 

“I would’ve hoped for something more scintillating.” He plays it off as a joke. 

You huff a laugh and rest your wrist across your forehead, eyes cast towards the ceiling. “Right when you turned I woke up,” you say. 

Ezra doesn’t want to admit it— that he was thinking about that very spell, that he wants your dream to be a premonition. Witches have been known to have those. No, that’s wishful thinking. 

He gets to his feet and stretches out. 

“What a pity you missed my face. I can’t quite remember my own countenance,” he says. 

You sigh with exasperation. “I think it’s a sign,” you say.

“Our dreams are just that,” he tells you.

“Not this one. It wasn’t just a dream,” you insist. You sit up on your elbows meeting his eye with eagerness. “I can do it.”

“I told you—“

“Ezra, I want to do it,” you say with finality. “I want you to be human again.”

He grits his teeth. If he was capable of crying, he might after hearing your words, seeing that resolution in your expression. It takes all of his strength to not just give in and say yes. You know the reasons why it shouldn’t be done and he can’t tell you the ones that make him hesitant.

“You would turn me knowing how much more capable I am of violence? I might be declawed but I will be far more dangerous as man than beast.,” he asks. It still weighs on him even though it’s been weeks since the equinox and it seems you’ve all but forgotten it.

“I trust you,” you say. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that makes Ezra’s heart swell. 

He knows you mean it. You shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve to be trusted, to be loved by you. He was never a good man, never stood up for anyone else. And it’s that very reason that’s had his mind in knots. He’s selfish. He wants this chance. 

Maybe, maybe you’ll give him the same look as a human and he can love you back the way he’s always wanted. 

“Besides, I know how to defend myself,” you say with a grin. 

That’s his little mage. 

“Very well,” he says. “I’m ready.”

–

You light the final candles on the oak table. The basement is illuminated by the dim glow of candles. You’ve spent the whole day down here with Ezra readying everything for the moon of All Hallows Eve.

Luckily Aunt Margot will be gone for the week so you don’t have to worry about interruptions. You’re not sure how she’ll react but right now, frankly, you don’t care. This is the right thing to do, you keep telling yourself. It’s justice. It’s not about the thrill you feel now, butterflies in your belly. 

You’ve daydreamed about it and after last night’s dream, your imagination feels closer than ever There’s no good picture in your mind of what Ezra will be like but his looks aren’t important. You can’t wait to do normal things with him. What will it be like to get a coffee with Ezra? To do rituals together at Ostara. To hear his old stories again, made new by his facial expressions. 

He’s quiet, nervous you’re sure, beside your cauldron. His golden eyes flit from the flames to the spellbook to the darkened window. Your excitement cools and suddenly you’re worried that your enthusiasm got the better of you. Had you pressured him into agreeing to this? He’s still your familiar after all, bound to serve you.

You kneel at the edge of the table.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to,” you say.

“As long as you’re certain you’re willing to take on the risks,” he tells you.

You nod.

“Very well,” he says.

You look at one another for a long time, both knowing that this will be the last time things are the same. You memorize everything about him, his elegant face, the whiskers beside his little black nose, the streak of white fur above his eye. This is your Ezra, will always be even if he doesn’t exist in this form. You wish you could thank him for everything he’s done for you but the words are stuck in your throat. It won’t do to start crying now when you need to focus and recite the incantation clearly.

“I love you, Ezra,” you manage.

He responds with a long, slow blink and you kiss his forehead.

The potion is murky and thick as you ladle it into a dish. Ezra recoils when you place it in front of him. 

“Smells like piss,” he says with a wince before lapping it up. A shiver runs over his body, down the length of his tail. “Tastes like it.”

He leaps onto the table and settles at the center of the carved pentagram.

“Work your magic, little mage,” he says.

This is it. It’s all laid out just like your dream but you’re still anxious. There’s no room for error.

With a deep breath, you straighten your back and begin to say the words. You read them countless times throughout the day, memorizing each verse so that it can flow from your heart to your tongue. As each one leaves your mouth, you visualize them on the page. Magic begins to stir in you, a tingle beneath your skin.

Ezra lays on his belly, his eyes drifting close, paws outstretched towards you. 

You shut your eyes tight and focus your energy, like a beam of pure magic directed towards him and say the words again.You think about him, really envision his details down to the hair. Memories flood you. Ezra rubbing up on the old books in the store. His soft purrs against your chest when your heart felt heavy. The time he slipped on the edge of the tub and fell into your bath. The love you feel for him radiates in your chest all the way to your fingertips.

You’re squeezing all of it palms, every drop of energy within you aimed at Ezra. A vibration, an earthquake. 

You say the words a final time. 

Lightheaded. Breathless. Exhausted. 

Your eyes flutter open.

Ezra lays on the table just as you left him. Unchanged.

“No.” The word slips from your mouth nothing more than a whisper.

Ezra blinks, looking down at his black paws.

You see his shoulders sag and a long moment passes as he gathers himself before looking at you.

It doesn’t make sense. You did everything right, just as you’d seen in your sleep. You’ve never cast with such fervor. 

“Okay,” you say, swallowing hard around a sob. “We’ll do it again. The moon will be higher.” You can hear your own desperation, voice shaking as you try not to lose faith.

Ezra slowly sits himself up.

“Maybe you need more potion,” you suggest.

“No, little mage,” he says, resigned. 

“Ez–” You’ve failed him. Your chest burns, tears brim in your eyes.It feels like you might collapse from the exertion and sheer heartbreak that’s overwhelming you.

“It’s alright. I’ve been a cat for more than a few years. And so I shall remain,” he says.

🐈‍⬛

Part 4

Again, it would really make my day to hear from you if you've come this far! My asks and dms are always open!

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 4 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: thank u guys for waiting and having patience! enjoy reading <3

W/C: 4.092

part three

"I'm craving a late-night dessert."

I lazily text Luis, shifting on my hotel room bed in Girona. The minimalist interior helping my mind rest after the very hectic and stressful day.

The match against Girona FC was a blazing success with a 3-0 win for us, and what better way to celebrate than having good food?

My eyes widen slightly at the message popping up on the screen, reading Luis' response quickly.

"Meet me at the restaurant in twenty."

I immediately plant my feet down on the floor, sliding the hotel slippers on. Hurriedly having to put on something appropriate since my pyj wouldn't cut it. Rummaging through my small suitcase, I grab my just-in-case slip dress. I would always pack a dress for situations exactly like these. Thankfully, it hadn't wrinkled that much, still looking acceptable enough to be worn out.

I pull the dress over my frame, checking it out in the mirror. Fixing my appearance a bit, for once glad I was too lazy to remove my makeup.

I grab my phone and keycard, walking out of my hotel room. My sandals clicking against the marble floor and echoing throughout the spacious hallway.

I press the elevator button, scrolling through my phone as I wait for the elevator to travel up to my floor. The doors open a moment later with a small noise. I raise my head, ready to step forward, watching the doors slide open patiently, but freeze when I see Vinicius and Jude stand in the elevator.

Both men are dressed up to some extent. Vini just wearing a white T-shirt, while Jude is dressed in a gray cardigan.

It wasn't even that cold..

"Hi?" I greet, trying to keep my facial expression neutral, stepping inside reluctantly. My eyes darting over to the panel of buttons.

"Hey, where are you going?" Vini asks, and at that moment I see the restaurant button already lit up.

"The restaurant- like you guys?"

"Celebrating tonight's win, some others are joining us as well."

"Really? No curfew tonight?"

"We got an exception." He winks, making me chuckle.

"Oh, that's nice!" I comment, leaning against the elevator wall. The conversation quieting down and becoming slightly more awkward. Jude's annoying and negative energy pissing me off a bit.

"You're going alone?" I hear a moment later, my eyes darting back to Vini.

"No, I'm meeting Luis there. He's on a different floor."

The elevator suddenly stops at a different level, the doors sliding open to reveal a family of four. A mother and father, guiding their very tired-looking children into the small space.

I exchange a smile with the mom, stepping aside to make room for them. Cringing when my hand makes accidental contact with Jude's leg. I immediately fold my arms up in disgust, trying to shuffle a couple centimeters away from him.

An awkward silence surrounds us again, the minute or two it takes for the elevator to arrive feeling like hours at this point.

We finally arrive at our floor after the family gets off to their level. The restaurant has beautiful outside seating. Pretty green trees and plants decorating the area nicely. I can hear Vini and Jude walking right behind me as I walk closer towards the seating area.

My eyes catch Luis sitting with some players. Watching carefully, I realize they had already combined multiple tables. Making it a table for ten.

So, now I have to sit with all of these men, as the only woman?

I enjoyed the company of all of these men except one, but still- I just wanted my little dessert and go to bed.

I notice only three chairs being available, all across from Luis.

"Hi guys." I greet, looking at them. I slide my chair back to sit right across from Luis, both of us sitting at the end of our table. The other players greeting and welcoming us nicely.

I adjust my dress as I sit down, hearing the scrape of the chair next to me. I look up, staring right at Jude's side profile.

I bite back a sigh and look away, my eyes skimming the table.

"Is everyone going to enjoy their orange juice?" I joke, knowing they weren't allowed to drink tonight, nor was it encouraged.

I hear a couple grumbles and laugh, looking over at Luis.

"What are you getting?" I ask as he hands me the menu. I flip all the way to the back, finding the dessert category.

"Crema catalana, and I'm still thinking about my drink."

I hum, continuing to mentally debate on what I should get, eyes roaming over all of the delicious-sounding desserts.

After much overthinking, I decide to order a classic cheesecake, along with a virgin mojito. I look around to find a waiter, one finally catching my eye. I raise my hand to call him over, allowing the others to order first, fidgeting with my necklace while I wait for my turn.

I look up at the waiter when he starts speaking in English, realizing Jude is ordering and it’s my turn next.

"What would the beautiful lady like?" He says, not switching back to Spanish for some reason. I give him an awkward smile, quickly giving my order.

The waiter isn't necessarily bad-looking or anything, he's alright, just visibly not my age.

Way older for sure.

He repeats my order to me, and I try to listen intently, noticing his eyes flicker to my chest. I nod in confirmation when he's done, reluctantly handing him the menu when his ogling of my chest intensifies. I don’t miss the creepy spine chilling smirk he gives me, but I give him a blank face, not entertaining his bullshit.

I exhale when he finally leaves, shifting in my chair. Trying to calm my annoyance.

"You okay?" Luis asks, glancing at me concerned. His shoe making contact with mine.

"I'm okay. I'll go to the restroom for a moment." I whisper, grabbing my phone off the table and getting up.

I walk into the restroom. The beige and dark gray decorated space looking gorgeous, especially with the nice lighting.

I get to the sink and wash my hands to refresh myself. Deciding to take a couple pictures. I had noticed that I barely had good pictures of myself on these short trips. I definitely had to remember to capture these moments more often.

After spending a good five minutes snapping tens, or maybe even hundreds, of pictures, I realize I had to head back to our table.

I mentally prepare myself, trying to suppress the feeling of wanting to punch the waiter square in the jaw.

Can a woman wear a pretty dress and not be made uncomfortable by a man for once?

The guys I was with did not say one thing or did not look at me in a weird way at all. So, why did the stupid waiter have to ruin my mood?

I take a deep breath, open the restroom door, and walk back to our table. Conversations and jokes being made in full motion put me in a better mood, and I get an idea.

"Guys, let me take a picture of you all." I suggest, seeing some of them look up. Voices of agreement being spoken.

"Whose phone should I use?" I ask, going to stand at the head of the table. Jude handing his phone to me. Realizing he must've understood my question.

I decide to not say anything and just take the phone, snapping some very nice, memorable photos.

"Take a selfie! You need to be in it as well." I hear Brahim urge, his arm wrapped around Antonio's.

I nod, flipping to the front camera, positioning the phone so everyone can be seen properly, and take a few more pictures. Finishing up, I hand the phone back to Jude, going to sit down again.

After indulging in numerous conversations, our orders finally arrive, brought by the same waiter as before. I'm aware he can't bring all orders at once, so I wait patiently, watching him hand out a couple orders at a time.

As expected, my order comes last. The waiter places my cheesecake in front of me, my eyes follow the delicious, creamy dessert-

SPLASH!

I feel ice cubes and cold liquid spill all over me.

There is no fucking way this just happened to me...

This had to be on purpose, because there is no way.

My eyes and mouth go as wide as dishes. I look down at my wet dress, drenched in my mojito. Broken shards of glass now on the floor, next to my feet.

The entire table goes quiet, and I suddenly want to be buried alive.

Is this real life right now?

I look up at the waiter, watching him scramble for the handkerchief in his back pocket. I'm still frozen, in shock as his hand inches closer to me. To my horror, he starts dabbing and rubbing the damn cloth on my drenched chest.

Absolutely not, this couldn't be real...

I snap out of it, realizing this man was touching my body, and open my mouth to curse him out until a hand grips at the waiter's wrist. I can practically see it turn white until it's pushed away from my proximity with a scary strength.

"Don't touch her."

I hear an unusually deep, calm voice say and immediately know who it belongs to.

I don't even dare to look his way, whether it's because I'm so fucking embarrassed or- no I was absolutely horrified.

I watch the waiter clutch his wrist, trying to look as unbothered by the pain as possible, as he starts spewing millions of apologies to an enraged Jude.

"Don't apologize to me! You touched her!" He says loudly, gesturing to me. Frustration painted all over his face.

Oh shit

No way, he just defended me

I finally gather the courage to look at him, forgetting all of my words completely as I watch the situation unfold. Along with Jude, the entire table erupts in voices of disagreement. All of them practically ganging up on the waiter.

The waiter’s expression falters again as a string of more apologies leave his mouth. I can't help but just stare at him, unable to say or do anything.

"Can we see the manager?" I hear Antonio say, beginning to usher the waiter away.

The waiter finally leaves to collect the manager, and I look down at my body, uncomfortably starting to wipe away at the sticky residue of the sweet beverage left on my skin.

Talk about a mess.

Luis stands up from his chair, coming to help me as I can hear soft murmurs coming from the rest of the table. Hearing curse words in multiple languages mumbled underneath their breath.

I do hear a couple reassuring words, female staff members coming to help me out. After a couple of minutes of trying to clean myself off in the restroom, I finally walk back. Feeling much better and cleaner, though still in shock.

A damn late-night snack suddenly turned into whatever this mess was...

When I sit down, I notice three empty chairs, realizing both Jude, Brahim, and Antonio are gone. I look at Luis, shooting him a questioning look.

"They went to the manager, to you know what.."

I didn't know what 'you know what' meant, but I imagine it wouldn't be good for the creepy waiter.

It doesn't take long before they return to their seats, along with a nicely dressed older man. He makes instant eye contact with me, introducing himself as the manager before apologizing for the incident and offering for the table’s bill to be dropped.

That was the least of my worries. I was sitting at a table full of men earning millions every year, the bill wasn't an issue.

"I understand mistakes happen, your staff should be more careful next time." I begin, using elaborate hand gestures as I speak to him, trying to convey my frustration.

At this point, I had given up on my anger, just wanting it to be over with so I could finish my dessert and go back to my room.

"I'm just glad it wasn't anything hot, but really, I urge you get your staff in check. Doesn't really do well with the image of your establishment..." I state, throwing my hands up and raise a brow.

"Again, I apologize on behalf of our staff and establishment. Is there any way we could make it up to you? We already have your drink replacement on the way."

I open my mouth to speak, though I get distracted by a murmur coming from my right.

"Just fire the fuckin' creep, mate.."

I keep my facial expression neutral, pretending I didn't hear it, and continue speaking with the manager.

"No, truly, just a replacement for the drink is alright.." I wave my hand in rejection.

A couple minutes later, a waitress comes up to our table, handing me another drink. I thank her quickly, informing her of my appreciation.

We all return to our fun conversations after I reassure everyone that I'm a hundred percent alright. The mood picks up quite fast when the guys started talking about something funny that had happened in the changing room today.

I finally finish my well-deserved dessert, sipping on the last bits of my drink as I continue to listen to the guys.

I suddenly feel a gust of wind passing me, making me shiver a bit. The weather had definitely gotten way colder as it became later in the night.

I hear a scoff next to me at my reaction, and look in the direction of the noise. I raise my brows, puzzled, as Jude starts shrugging his cardigan off. The rest of the table still distracted by a story being told by Vini.

I freeze at his sudden movement, seeing him inch the cardigan over my back. His arms surround me as I watch him drape the cardigan onto my shoulders. His body very close to mine. His hands go up to close the cardigan, buttoning up the first two buttons.

My eyes travel from his hands to his face, not uttering a single word to him. Eyes widening when he leans to whisper in my ear.

"You're insufferable." He whispers to me, pulling back and looking away, his attention going back to Vinicius.

I smirk at the comment, somehow being glad he was being snarky. I adjust the cardigan a bit, looking at the back of his head.

"That's all you." I murmur quietly.

"Shut up." He mutters, finishing his drink, not glancing at me any further.

I stifle back a chuckle, returning my attention to the banter as well.

I felt insanely grateful for the normalcy for a moment, which with Jude was rare- if not never happened.

"What the fuck is this man even talking about?"

I groan, fighting the urge to bash my head against my keyboard. I was fifteen minutes into my lecture, not understanding a single word my professor had said. I was really impatient, and two times speed wasn't helping either.

I had finally sent in my stress-inducing essay. Now having to catch up on two 45-minute lectures. I found the plane ride to be a very good place to catch up, since it was almost three hours long from Girona back to Madrid. Though, I had forgotten to consider that I was running on minimal hours of sleep after last night’s turn of events.

"What are you whining about now? I'm trying to sleep here." I hear Luis mumble, turning my head to watch him pull his blanket down to reveal his face.

"Sorry, it's just this lecture I need to catch up on." I mumble, returning my attention back to my laptop screen and restarting the lecture. I adjust my grip on my pen and begin taking notes. Hoping I could understand my professor the second time around.

I hear some commotion and laughter in the back of the plane. Not wanting to get distracted, I raise the volume of my lecture, trying to focus completely.

My efforts are finally rewarded when I understand most of the information this time, sighing in relief as the first lecture ends.

"I am a genius." I mutter to myself. My ego was completely boosted now, and no one could tell me otherwise.

Or so I thought…

I instantly hear a loud laugh and look up, confused. I take out my earbuds and look to my right, Jude standing next to me.

Yeah, forget whatever happened yesterday, normal Jude had returned.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a restroom in the back of the plane?" I ask, fake-smiling at him.

"It's occupied, so I went to this one here." He states, arms crossed against his chest.

"Why are you bothering me then?"

"I heard the most outrageous words leave your mouth, couldn't help myself."

"Can you just let me listen to my lecture now if you're done?"

"What lecture?"

"Law lecture.."

"You study law?" He asks, bewildered. His hand inching closer as he snatches my precious notebook from my table and starts inspecting it.

"I do." I reply, scowling and reaching to get my notebook back.

"Because of your dad?"

"Maybe..." I respond, confused by the number of questions he's asking.

"Think you'd put me in jail rather than saving me from it."

"Well, fuck around and find out." I retort, getting even more annoyed. Our conversation gets interrupted by Eduardo before it gets too heated.

"What are you guys fighting about?" He asks, looking at us, way too amused for my liking.

"Her lecture." He says, pointing at my screen.

"Do you know she studies law?"

I watch Eduardo nod, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

"She’s our club’s future lawyer." He jokes, winking at me and patting my shoulder as I crack a smile at his words.

I hear Jude scoff, mumbling an annoyed 'whatever' as he goes to sit back in his seat.

"Is he okay?" I ask, wondering why he looked so pissed.

"He's fine. Just in a bad mood, I think." He replies, telling me he'll go back to his seat.

I nod, giving him a small wave before starting my second lecture.

"Right, but I don't think this could work. We have had great engagement since the beginning of the season, switching up our posting schedule would not have a positive impact- in my opinion."

We'd been in our monthly meeting with the marketing and PR team, and it was practically sucking the life out of me. Especially, with Valeria's stupid idea. I had no choice but to say something about it, because no one else looked like they dared to.

"Then- let's take the democratic approach. Who's in favor of changing the schedule?" Hugo suggests, looking around the room.

My eyes dart around the room, seeing some of Valeria's minions raise their hands. Thankfully, they aren't the majority.

"Okay, well, that tells us enough. Sorry, Valeria." Hugo chirps up, resting his forearms on the table.

I watch her face crumple up into a fake smile, and her gaze averts to me.

"Well, if that's what everyone thinks, It's fine."

"Then that concludes the meeting. Let's keep this up until the end of the year!"

I hold back a sigh of relief, glancing at Lina and Luis as they give me the exact same bored look.

"Come on." I urge, grabbing my laptop and folders. The three of us walking out of the meeting room and back to our desks.

"What are you guys going to do tonight?" I ask, grabbing a piece of gum from my desk and throwing the pack at Luis.

"Thanks! I think I'll just go to bed early. My sleeping schedule is messed up." He says, handing the pack to Lina.

"I'm celebrating my boyfriend's birthday. Fancy dinner, all of that stuff." She says, finally handing the pack to me, prompting me to put it away in my drawer.

"Really? How nice!” I comment, turning to Luis.

“Where’s your bird, old man-”

I begin, but I am rudely stopped by Luis' hand clamping over my mouth.

"We don’t talk about that." He says, his palm still on my face. I grab his wrist to take his hand off me, scoffing.

"I don't have any siblings, so you should step up and make me the bougie aunt-"

His hand clamps over my mouth again, making me sigh against it. Hearing Lina laugh at our antics.

"Don't say anything else."

I shake my head in response, grabbing his wrist again. "I won't." I mutter, having difficulty hiding the smile on my face due to how annoyed he looks.

"I have to leave, only way I can get ready on time." I hear Lina say, watching her collect her handbag.

"I'll leave with you- are you staying longer?" Luis asks, glancing at me, also beginning to pack his items.

"Yeah, I have something to do." I say, my eyes darting to the gray cardigan that is draped over the back of my chair.

They both leave the office minutes later, leaving me to tidy up my desk. I pack up my bag and don't forget to grab the cardigan as I make my way down.

I glance around when I walk down the flight of stairs, trying to find someone who would know Jude’s whereabouts. Finally, may I catch Brahim walking out of the restroom.

"Have you seen Jude?" I ask, walking up to him. My heavy bag resting on my shoulder as the cardigan is draped over my arm.

"He's in break-room three. Why are you asking?" He asks, raising a questioning brow at me and reaching up to fix his hair.

"I have to give him something."

I notice a slight change in his expression at my words, a small smile forming on his lips.

"What's with that look?" I ask, raising my own brow.

"Nothing, you should go. Don't want to miss him, do you?" He replies, his eyes going down to the cardigan in my hand.

I stare at him for a second, puzzled by his reply, but decide to ignore it.

"See you tomorrow, then." I say, waving to him as I walk up to the break room.

I reach over to the door handle, but retract my hand as the door is already opened by a familiar man, a huge suitcase behind him.

Wasn't this that one famous Instagram barber?

"Oh, sorry, is Jude in here?"

The man immediately steps aside, revealing Jude, sitting there in the chair, his hair definitely freshly cut.

The man leaves without speaking a word, leaving me standing there in the doorway.

"Didn't you already get your hair cut last week?" I ask, my voice loud, as I walk into the room instead of standing in the doorway.

I watch him stand up from his chair, his phone in his hand. It looked like I interrupted his photo shoot.

"I need to look good, obviously." He mutters, finally looking at me. His face crumpling with irritation.

"For what? The girls that run away when they find out how annoying you are?" I say, looking displeased.

Jude rolls his eyes, huffing, before looking away.

"Why are you even here?" He breathes out, voice thick with an unwelcoming tone.

"Oh- here." I mutter, remembering why I was there. I extend the cardigan to him, seeing his eyes soften for a moment.

"I washed it as well. Checked the label and everything." I add, my tone relaxed.

"Thank you." He finally says, folding the cardigan and throwing it over his shoulder.

A thank you? That was new.

We both stare at each other for a while, not knowing what to say next to one another.

I wanted to thank him for what happened back in Girona, but my ego and pride were holding me back like a dam holding back water.

A civilized conversation was something that never happened between us. Causing our silence to be even more awkward.

"Okay, that's all. I'm leaving." I finally say, shoving my hand in my pocket as I begin marching up to the door. Not looking back when I hear his phone ring loudly.

He answers the call quickly, and I sigh in relief, finally walking out of the break room, excited to go home.

[sunkendreams]

SIDELINES.

you haven’t seen jesse pinkman since high school — and he’s the last person you ever expected to connect with. however, times have changed — and so have you.

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5.

༄ PAIRING. | jesse pinkman x [female] reader.

༄ FORMAT. | one-shot, multi-part — not requested.

༄ WORD COUNT. | 9.6K.

༄ WARNINGS. | drug use, references to substance use/addiction, past jane/jesse, emotional trauma/hurt, jesse’s internalized hatred/guilt, acquaintances to lovers, smoking, smut, smut with plot, making out, dirty talk, breast play, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bottom!jesse, riding, morning sex, aftercare.

༄ AUTHOR’S NOTE. | I don’t know where I’m getting these ideas, but I have a lot of projects in the works right now. Some are horror-related and some aren’t. Honestly, I’m just happy to be writing again no matter what the content is. Thank you guys for your continued support & love. I couldn’t do it without you all! Peace! ☺️

The scent of marijuana, pungent smoke, and a toxic amalgamation of sweat and AXE body spray wafted throughout the house, music jacked up so loud that it made your ears ring. You remained at your perch, stuffed along the wall of a stranger’s house while your friends got stoned in another room.

You were dragged to this party out of sheer loyalty to your friends and a boredom that outweighed anything else. Regret rippled through you, nose stinging from the foul smells that hung like a noxious haze in the living room. The drink you clutched within one hand was watered-down, tiny slivers of ice swirling around within the cup.

Some mediocre hip-hop song blasted throughout the house, bass loud enough to shake the very foundation — you were thoroughly surprised that the police hadn’t been called in for a noise complaint.

Grey wisps of smoke drifted in your direction, and you swatted at it with a wrinkled nose. It wasn’t your typical scene — the sort of party, at least. Partying was something you were accustomed to — harmless college parties with drinks and weed, but this was something else.

There were people snorting lines of cocaine off of a glass coffee table, and you swore that one person had passed out entirely in the kitchen. A strange sensation crawled across your flesh — a feeling that you weren’t exactly meant to be here. Your friends had driven you down here, but you were prepared to take your chances with walking home.

“Wanna hit?” A man asked you, gsze half-lidded, lips curled into a less than attractive smile. He propositioned you with a jerk of his head, motioning toward the thin line of fine, white powder sitting along the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You waved one hand in dismiss, weaving through the crowds to retrieve another drink. The kitchen was destroyed, ravaged by strangers with little respect for the home. Debris, trash, and the remnants of marijuana were everywhere. You nearly stepped on broken glass.

It felt like an out-of-body experience — as if you were simply a spectator, an observer who watched the chaos around you. You didn’t thrive or revel within it — you were indifferent. The vices of your friends differed greatly from your own, to quite an extreme degree.

As you watched the swarm of people, all huddled together within the living room, the air became stifling and stuffy, as if it threatened to suffocate you altogether. They reminded you of zombies — barely moving in one place, all drugged-out from whatever concoction of pills and illicit substances were available at this party.

You silently slipped outside, abandoning your drink somewhere on the windowsill as you stepped out into the cool night breeze. You inhaled, greedily drinking in the crisp freshness of dusk, hands roaming over your thin cardigan as you began to shuffle to the edge of the porch.

Moonlight pooled through the wispy clouds as they fluttered through the night — everything was so much quieter outside. The thumping of the bass had diminished, and the skunk-like scent had dissipated altogether.

The door opened behind you, a figure slinking out onto the porch a few feet away from you. “Hey.”

It was somewhat unfamiliar until you’d actually glanced over your shoulder, gaze landing upon a most familiar face — Jesse Pinkman. The two of you made eye contact; Jesse’s face blossomed with a subtle realization.

“Holy shit,” You let out a bark of a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Jesse Pinkman, right? You went to J.P Wynne.” You hadn’t seen Jesse Pinkman since high school graduation — you distinctly remembered his social circle.

Jesse recognized you sometime during the midst of the party — a true wallflower, despite your popularity in junior high. It surprised him to see a girl like you at one of his drug-laden festivities, but then again, life was full of surprises. He looked tired, skin pale and eyes baggy as he leaned against one of the columns.

“Yeah,” Perusing his pockets, he fished out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “You were one of the Honor Society members, right?” Jesse recalled your stellar academics and social standing — his polar opposite.

You made a face, keeping your arms folded across your abdomen. “Yeah.” Admittedly, Jesse wasn’t exactly someone you were friends with in high school. Cordial was a good word for it — your parents never would have allowed you to hang out with someone like him, anyway. “We were in Mr. White’s chemistry classes together.”

Upon mentioning Walter White, Jesse stiffened slightly, feigning innocence as he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Jesus,” He exhaled, reaching for his lighter. “It’s been awhile.”

There was a prevalent exhaustion that hung within his eyes, a loneliness that almost felt tangible within that moment. He avoided eye contact with you at-times, hands fidgeting when you stepped closer.

“It has.” You paused, rubbing your palms across your arms. Despite the acrid heat that New Mexico produced during the day, the temperatures dropped drastically at night. You shivered, a delicate smile creeping across your features. “Did the party get a little boring for you, too?”

He’d forgotten about you a little bit — forgotten about just how beautiful you were. You’d only gotten prettier, too. Jesse felt the sting of sheepishness and inferiority that came with being around someone like you — a good person, someone with responsibilities and respectable morals. You weren’t a criminal — you hadn’t killed somebody.

Jesse almost felt as if he shouldn’t be speaking to you, but he pressed on. “I guess. Needed some air, you know?” He noticed your constant shivering, prompting him to remove the baggy, black jacket he wore. “You cold?” He asked, gesturing toward the garment he carried.

“Oh,” Warmth crept along your flesh, brows knitting together as you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.” It was a thoughtful gesture, something you didn’t expect, but you were freezing and the dress wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Nah, go ahead. Might smell like cigarettes, though.” Jesse forewarned, tucking one hand underneath his arm. The long-sleeved Henley he wore was more than enough for him.

You thanked him, slipping into his hooded zip-up. He wasn’t exactly incorrect — it did smell of cigarette smoke intermingled with the cologne he wore. You didn’t mind, though.

Silence drifted between the two of you, awkward enough to make you uncomfortable as you fished around for your cellphone. Minutes ticked by without a word. Jesse appeared to be a little nervous, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you.

There was a string of texts from your friends inquiring about your whereabouts. It was a little after ten o’clock, and you fully intended on walking home. “It was nice seeing you, Jesse. I hope you’re doing well.” You cleared your throat. “I’m going to head home.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, lips fumbling around the unlit cigarette. Surely, you didn’t want to talk to him — Christ, he was practically a stranger. It felt cruel of him not to offer to give you a ride home, or something like that.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat, clamoring after you. “I can give you a ride home. Could be stalkers or crazy people around.” His reasoning was weak, but it seemed to resonate with you, oddly enough. He felt strange — he barely knew you outside of what he perceived in high school.

You knew that Jesse had gotten in trouble with the law in school — everyone knew. Gossip was prevalent at J.P Wynne. Part of you screamed to refuse, to politely decline and endure the lengthy trek home, but a sliver of you wanted to accept, to indulge in your curiosity.

Jesse had always been kind to you in the very rare, occasional interaction you’d had with him. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him. It was a nice change of company — refreshing, almost. There was a clean slate between the two of you.

Your shoulders slouched and sluggishly lifted in a weak shrug as you rubbed your hands together. “You don’t mind? It’s on Nauman Drive, past downtown.” A decent drive, for sure — a half an hour or more. You expected him to reject you given the distance.

“Nauman?” It was a nice area, he knew that much. “Yeah, I don’t mind. You care if I smoke?” Jesse inquired, gesturing around toward the garage. He didn’t care about the house — it almost seemed to fade away into the background. He needed a break, time to think.

“Go ahead.” You trailed after Jesse, following him toward the paved stretch of driveway. A 1984 Toyota Tercel sat, red paint beginning to fade and show signs of weathering. It was beat-up, but certainly held a bit of rugged appeal.

Jesse awkwardly shuffled to open the passenger door, and you thanked him, sinking down into the felt seats. The car smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air fresheners, but it was tidy and clean inside. You placed your purse down onto the floorboard in front of you.

Blowing a pillar of smoke into the air, Jesse hastily finished his cigarette, fingers beginning to quiver as he opened the driver’s side. He hadn’t really spent time with a girl since Jane — but you didn’t remind him of her whatsoever. There were many qualities you possessed that certainly contrasted from her, not that it was a bad thing.

“Do you live here?” You asked, head canting to one side. There were other cars scattered around the block and parked on the street, but his happened to be the only vehicle in the driveway.

“Uh,” Jesse glanced at you, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He turned the key forward, car rumbling and puffing to life. “Bought the house months ago — used to be my Aunt’s.” He clarified, wondering if you would ask about the obscene amount of drugs.

“You don’t think it’ll burn down while you’re gone?” You questioned, lips twitching into a thin smile as you rolled down the passenger window, letting your elbow rest up against the ledge.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter, and shrugged his shoulders. He began to back up, rolling out onto the empty roads. “It’s been through worse shit.” His wry statement only made your smile flicker again, but he vehemently focused on driving instead.

You felt the barrier melt a bit at that — it was comforting to know that the two of you didn’t have to behave like complete strangers. Silence simmered again, settling between the both of you as he concentrated on finding something on the radio. It served as suitable background noise.

“What are you doing nowadays?” You avoided the topic of the party — it wasn’t worth mentioning. A cool breeze whipped through the car as he began to drive, causing goosebumps to prickle along your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Jesse confessed, cerulean hues flickering in your direction. “Drifting, I guess.” It was the first time where he’d revealed a sliver of his true feelings. The parties were a worthwhile distraction — soulless events where he could find solace in all of the chaos surrounding him. “Shit, it’s a long story.” His laughter was shaky.

“You don’t have to do a full confession, Jesse.” You reassured, playfully prodding at your cardigan. “I’m not wearing a wire.” With a gentle exhale, your tone softened as he pulled out onto the highway. It was almost soothing — driving back home with somebody you never expected to see again.

Jesse laughed at that, running a hand across his disheveled hair, and then planting it against the back of his neck. The support groups he’d been attending didn’t work — there was no comfort he’d been able to find.

Everything felt like some massive distraction from the root of the problem — the residual pain he was dealing with from Jane, from Gale. His heart hammered within his chest, and he looked at you again. Oddly enough, your nonchalant behavior and lack of judgment would’ve been enough for him to spill in a different setting.

“Hey, what about you? What are you doing these days?” Jesse immediately shifted the focus away from him. He was far more interested in what you had to say than his own life. Besides, it would pull him out of his own head for a little while.

The inquiry was unexpected but not unwelcome, causing you to adjust yourself within the passenger seat. “Oh,” You cleared your throat. “I’m in college at the University of New Mexico. I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to study — getting basics out of the way. I work at a cafe.”

Normal, uneventful, peaceful — Jesse envied you.

You were achieving something mundane yet safe, something that he wished he would’ve done long ago. Maybe things wouldn’t have happened in the way that they did. His countenance became a touch forlorn, but it wasn’t the time to become mournful over the past. He couldn’t go back, not anymore.

“Yeah, that’s …” He nodded, attempting to conjure the right words to say. “That’s good, really good. You know you could do anything you wanted. You were always really smart and shit.” Jesse replied, gaze hyperfocused upon the road as headlights raced past.

You could detect that Jesse was holding something back — that minuscule flicker of pain had crossed over his visage before being forced to dissipate. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you reached over, gently prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey,” You began, tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jesse felt his heart constrict within his chest, wisps of air stolen from his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that — and genuinely meant it. It wasn’t out of obligation, that was easy to tell. He felt his throat grow thick, but he staved off any tears.

“Yeah.” It was a blatant lie, spoken through a clenched jaw. He nearly winced when you touched his shoulder, feeling as if he were souring the mood entirely. “Just, uh … You know, going to therapy and rehab right now. It’s been tough.” A very threadbare half-truth, but it was enough to placate you.

“Oh.” A warmth crept into your voice as you withdrew, countenance softening as you sank back into the passenger seat. “That’s understandable, Jesse. I’m sorry.” You replied, tucking strands of hair behind your ear as you looked out the window again.

Albuquerque was a sprawling city, and as the two of you neared the nicer end, Jesse knew that Nauman was only ten minutes away. He didn’t want to go back to the party anymore — but it might’ve been the best option. If he stayed with you, he knew the pain it would cause. He feared losing people — it was present all the time, a nagging dread that never stopped.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse interjected, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Did that shit to myself, you know?” Addiction was behind him. He rarely participated anymore — he was just a silent observer, fueling everyone else’s vices while he withered away. What kind of a life was that?

You canted your head to one side, lips parting slightly as you spoke. “Jesse, that’s not entirely your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your environment or circumstances out of your control.” You were right — but he made the choice to shoot Gale, and he made the choice to shoot up with Jane before she died.

He was silent, feeling the sensation of tears swimming within his gaze. Jesse didn’t want to even remotely consider crying in front of you — he barely knew you. Instead, he focused on the road, taking the exit towards Albuquerque Studios. Nauman wasn’t very far away.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d had a conversation with someone else that was this raw and vulnerable. Jesse’s discomfort was palpable and very real to you, and you felt horrible. Your countenance glistened with concern, brows furrowing together.

After the exit, Jesse drove onto Nauman Drive. There were rows of beautiful, lavish houses and apartment complexes, ones that he probably could’ve bought with the dealing money. He was blowing it all away right now on drugs for the parties — he was beginning to ask himself ‘why?’

“My apartment is at the end of the drive.” Your voice had softened, hands planted within your lap as he followed your directions. It was a smaller apartment complex but much nicer, your driveway occupied by your vehicle.

Jesse pulled up along the curb — it was eerily silent, aside from the cacophony of crickets that provided a steady ambience, and the occasional bark of a dog. He put the car in park, still gripping the steering wheel. “You got a nice place.” He murmured, a halfhearted attempt to shift the conversation to something else.

“Hey,” After unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the center console, palm resting over his hand, the one that was strangling the wheel of the car. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you coffee or something and you can just space out for a little while. We don’t even have to talk.”

The offer was generous — admittedly, Jesse wondered if it would benefit him in any way. If he could just lay on your couch, decompress, let the emotion off of his chest. He didn’t care about the state of the house — he didn’t care about anybody at that party. What he did care about, however, was you, and how you made him feel.

It was as if the invisibility he’d been safely floating in for so long was shattered, but there was someone who could actually see him — see the veil he’d been maintaining for this whole time. His gaze finally flickered toward you, who appeared genuinely concerned for him.

You were good — truly good.

There wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness or an underlying agenda. You didn’t smoke, you hadn’t touched drugs, you were in college with a steady, normal job that never got you involved with the wrong people. Jesse knew what he’d be putting you through if he let this drag out for too long. If he fucked up, people could hurt you.

“Listen,” Jesse swallowed, palm planted against the back of his neck. “You’re really sweet, okay? You’re nice,” He wanted to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt your feelings. “I just — I can’t. I’m not in a good spot right now. I don’t wanna drag you down with me.” That sounded fair, didn’t it?

You could accept that.

If it had something to do with the drugs, which you assumed that it was, then you understood that he was trying to protect you. You wanted to encourage him to try, but the last thing you wanted to do was pressure someone in a fragile state.

“Okay, Jesse.” You hesitated, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need someone, I’m here for you. I know that there was a wedge in high school, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t reconnect.” You shrugged, popping open the passenger side door.

As you stepped outside, you made sure to remove his jacket, draping it over the center console as you shut the door. Jesse didn’t say anything as you rounded the car — he was biting his finger, eyes squeezing shut as you made the short trek toward your front door. It felt like an eternity until you’d actually gotten inside.

Jesse exhaled, hands trembling as he hastily wiped away straggling tears that he’d been withholding during the span of the whole drive. Part of him knew that he could use a positive influence like you in his life, but the danger that lurked around him, the cloud of loss, he was afraid that you’d become lost in all of that, too.

The deliberation between going back to his house and biting the bullet to stay with you was a tedious process. He sat out in the car for a long time — he was surprised that you hadn’t come back outside asking why he was sitting there with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

When he finally made the choice to go up to your door, the walk felt like a lengthy, eternal drag. Jesse rocked forward, pressing his hands against his face as he composed himself. Back in high school, he was suave — much more of a charmer. Nowadays, he felt incompetent, but it was largely due to an amalgamation of nerves and drug use.

He knocked a few times, skin crawling with a nervous sensation, but there was something exciting about it, too. You were familiar yet new, a breath of fresh air that he desperately needed. Jesse watched as the door opened, and there you were.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back upon his heels. “Is the offer still on the table?” He’d ask, and your lips split into a gentle yet bemused smile.

“Of course.” You’d changed into your pajamas — a baggy, oversized graphic t-shirt and cotton shorts that were dwarfed by your top. “Did you want to watch a movie? I was about to start Watchmen.”

Jesse watched as you stepped aside to invite him in, closing the door behind him and latching the lock. You had a weird itch for security, especially at night. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” He replied, having a look around.

Your apartment was tidy and very cozy, with a rather comforting aesthetic and atmosphere. Jesse felt a little more relaxed, wandering around in the small living room. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the plush sofa, scattered with throw blankets and pillows.

As you prepared coffee, you wondered what changed his mind. It was a question that would likely nag at you until you asked. You understood being lonely — aside from the occasional hangout with your friends, you lived alone.

“Make yourself at home,” You chimed, weaving around the coffee table to place your steaming mugs down, settling into the couch. Jesse sat a comfortable distance away, arm slung over the back of the sofa. “What changed your mind?”

Your question caught him off-guard, but he wanted to be transparent with you. He owed you that much, especially after talking to him — after this, after everything. “I knew that I’d be miserable if I went back,” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna keep being miserable.” Loneliness also played a factor in this, but he didn’t really want to own up to it just yet.

“I understand,” You began, tucking one knee toward your chest as you played the movie. Admittedly, it served as better background noise than anything else. “I’m glad you came over.” Your lips split into a soft smile.

Jesse hesitated, glancing over at you as he stayed silent. He was most definitely drinking you in, gaze subtly raking you over as you took a sip of your coffee. For a moment, he envisioned this — getting close to you, hanging out with you, just getting to be himself, or as close as he could get again.

“I’m glad, too.” Jesse confessed, rubbing at the back of his head. He nearly shriveled at the eye contact you made with him, but he maintained it instead, lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nudged your drink back onto the wooden table, wordlessly slinking closer to Jesse until you were curled up beside him. The silence simmered with something else, perhaps a crackle of affection. Your gaze glistened with a peculiar softness, flickering between the movie and him.

Admittedly, this was the last thing Jesse expected — but that didn’t stop him from wanting it to happen. Once you initiated, he decided to meet you halfway, draping his arm around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

He’d been craving something like this for a while now. Jane left a void — a massive, gaping wound that he feared wouldn’t heal, but now? Maybe there was an end in sight — maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesse relaxed, sinking into you as you cuddled up with him.

Your hands intertwined, fingers brushing together until they joined. Just like Jesse, you were chasing after the sensation of touch, chasing after that feeling of fulfillment — no more loneliness. You’d been dealing with it for a long while, trying to manage the sea of emotions, and this was a nice break from that.

“I understand feeling miserable,” You murmured, head resting comfortably against his collarbone. “Sometimes it feels like you’re alone out on a raft, in the middle of the ocean.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened, but there was a mutual sense of empathy and understanding within your words. That was how he felt oftentimes — just himself, attempting to stay afloat. He didn’t say anything, but he did caress your knuckles with his thumb as a form of acknowledgment.

As the movie progressed, the two of you occasionally made small talk, but you were a little engrossed by the film, and so was he. It was comforting to just be near him — let him hold you, keep it light with gentle touches and whatnot.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Jesse cleared his throat, glancing down at you with exhausted eyes. “Thanks for this,” He murmured, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Would you wanna do it again? Like, uh … Hanging out, or something?” He was intent on cleaning up his place, now.

“Yeah,” You replied, twisting within his hold enough to peer up at him. “I would.” There was something special about this — perhaps a feeling of renewal, of starting something with someone you never expected. You had a feeling that Jesse needed a little bit of support, and you didn’t mind providing that.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed through a soft laugh, visibly bewildered yet pleased by your answer. “Okay.” He didn’t expect that from you — he didn’t expect anything, really.

The both of you were smiling, now. Watchmen dissipated into the background once more, simply serving as ambience as the two of you nestled together. “Okay.” You parroted, lips curling into a lopsided smile as Jesse gathered his bearings.

You had little time to fully comprehend his next actions — he moved inward, cerulean hues dropping from your face to your mouth. Everything about this screamed sudden and intense, but you didn’t care. He tasted like cigarette smoke and spearmint gum — he had a very sweet kiss.

Jesse inhaled, relaxing into you, careening right into the warmth of your body. Every fiber of his being felt electrified, and he became so incredibly nervous — he hadn’t done this since Jane. He didn’t want her death to tarnish the moment, but it was inevitable.

He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak, yet nothing emerged. Words turned to ash upon his tongue, dying then and there as he hung his head, fingers toying with yours.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was struggling with this — you didn’t want to pry, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, either. “Hey,” You murmured, dragging one hand toward his face, fingertips grazing over his stubbled jaw. “What’s wrong?” It was written all over his countenance, this underlying sense of pain.

“Nothing, just …” Jesse shivered when your palm cupped his jaw, shamelessly leaning into the sensation you left behind from your hand. “I just don’t wanna leave.” It sounded so pathetic — he didn’t want to go back home to a drug-laden pit.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. “Is that it?” You left it open-ended, attempting to stay on the side of not being invasive or pushy. You wanted him to be comfortable.

Jesse huffed, idly tracing the pad of his thumb across the delicate plane of your knuckles. “Nah,” He admitted, cerulean hues flickering toward your face. “Haven’t really done this in awhile.” Telling you the visceral, painful truth would’ve been too much for him, so he settled on something else, something superficial.

“What, kissing?” You teased, keeping it mellow and lighthearted before he shook his head. “If it’s any reassurance, I haven’t done anything, either. Don’t feel like it’s just you.” With a soft sigh, you watched as Jesse leaned back just an inch or two, head craned to rest against your couch.

There was something forlorn about him, a light aura of melancholy that swirled around his being. You didn’t want to ask, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened. You were able to look past that — he was attractive. You’d always thought that he was handsome.

“You, uh … You mind if we do it again?” Jesse asked, head cocked to one side. He was some amalgamation of sheepishness and a suave charm, smile somewhat feeble as he held your hand.

“I don’t mind.” You replied, but before he could lean in again, you had something on your mind. “Jesse?”

Jesse stooped closer, forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Yeah?”

“Would it help if you stayed tonight?” Whatever was plaguing him, being alone around drugs was the last thing he needed. You didn’t mind him staying the night — you didn’t mind whatever came with that, too.

He remained silent for a few moments, and immediately felt as if he should say no — and against his own inner turmoil, he wanted to be with you. He didn’t care if the house was a mess or if it had been reduced to nothing — he’d rather stay here with you.

“I don’t wanna disturb the peace,” Jesse began, nose wrinkling slightly when you rolled your eyes. “I can crash on the couch.” Admittedly, that sliver of him that was desperate for affection also wanted to sleep with you, but it was only polite to keep his distance until you said otherwise.

“You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.” You reassured, fingers creeping toward the nape of his neck as you tilted forward. “I want you to stay.” You uttered, your own desire for fulfillment and company mirrored his own want to not be alone.

Part of him really wished you hadn’t said that — but once the gate was open, Jesse couldn’t stop himself, and neither could you. His gaze fell to your lips, thumb briefly caressing your jaw until the two of you were colliding into one another.

Jesse kissed you again, compassionate and borderline needy, hand dropping to grasp at the curve of your hip. His free hand still remained tangled with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you shuffled forward, partially planted within his lap. It was enough to make him forget about the downward spiral he was on, and it was as if the plummeting had ceased — for now.

You didn’t know where this would lead, but that was the exhilarating part about it. The uncertainty and the newfound territory that was Jesse Pinkman elated you. Maybe this was what you needed; he was what you needed — you needed a fresh start.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse whispered against your mouth, fingers teasing the hem of your baggy shirt, grazing over your thigh. “Where we going with this?” It was spoken with compassion and concern, out of total thoughtfulness for you. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with a junkie — he couldn’t blame you.

“I think I know where I’d like to go,” You confessed, head canting to one side. “Where do you want to go?” You asked, idly trailing your digits through his hair. You noticed the subtle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by a peculiar sheen within his eyes.

If it was something serious that you were after, Jesse was unsure if he even had that capability. After Jane, it almost seemed to shatter — fall apart. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way forever. Perhaps, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for the two of you.

Instead of recoiling, Jesse held you closer, wordlessly ushering you into his lap, palm splayed out underneath your shirt, resting soundly at the curve of your hip. “I just,” He hesitated, completely enamored by you — you were beautiful. “I don’t know if I can be what you need right now.” He admitted.

You respected him all the more for his candor, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. You decided to kiss him, slow and steady, tilting to one side for something deeper. When you withdrew, your lips twitched into a smile. “I’m patient.” With that conclusion alone, Jesse relaxed.

He felt a bit of pressure relinquish itself from him, like a weight being removed from his chest. Jesse was worried that you’d want something serious, something strict off the bat. He didn’t intend on sleeping around, but he was afraid of disappointing you more than anything.

Given the implication of your interactions, Jesse had something on his mind — he figured that the feeling was mutual.

Jesse remained quiet for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, and then another to your neck. “Where’s your room?” He murmured, nearly shuddering in delight when you absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, you removed yourself from his lap, taking ahold of his hand as you led him down the short corridor towards your bedroom. It was, as Jesse expected, lavishly-decorated and aesthetically pleasing. It far outweighed the dump he was living in.

“Cute.” Jesse couldn’t help but comment, lips twitching into a smile as he observed your choice of style and the many pillows piled up on top of your mattress. Admittedly, it all felt so cozy and welcoming — it even smelled good.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you watched as Jesse nudged the door closed. The both of you were swallowed by the lower, dim lighting of your bedroom, slivers of orange encompassing your scantily-clad frame.

He pressed closer, hands roaming across your body, one palm gently slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to brazenly grab at your ass. Locked in another heated kiss, your hands moved to push his jacket away, draping across his shoulders.

The sensation of your fingers roaming through his hair was enough to make his knees weak, a low groan resonating within his throat. You tasted sweet, like the twang of strawberry chapstick and the citrus seltzer you’d been drinking at the party. Jesse kissed you again, greedily this time, one hand cupping the curve of your hip.

As the two of you fell onto your bed in a feverish heap of limbs and mouths, you withdrew for a moment, getting yourself adjusted. You prepared to remove your shirt until you saw Jesse laying there, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion was scrawled into his face, as if it were a permanent feature.

“Are you tired?” You asked, more concerned about his state of wellbeing. You were getting hot and bothered, but your own desire could be put on hold for a little while.

Jesse appeared embarrassed, but with the bags underneath his eyes and the perpetual state of tiredness that hung around him, he couldn’t lie to you. “Yeah,” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit, this feels pathetic. I’m practically blue-balling myself.” He mused, and it made you giggle.

“It’s not pathetic, Jesse.” You reassured, opting to climb into bed and make yourself comfortable. Jesse kicked off his shoes, following suit until he was resting at your side, arms tangled around you. “You look like you’re seconds away from crashing. I think we can put sex aside for now.”

Begrudgingly, he felt you cuddle against him, head near his collarbone as he made himself comfortable with you. His erection happened to push into your rump throughout, but before you could make a playful comment about it, his breathing had steadied.

“Jesse?” You whispered, receiving no response. He was most definitely asleep, and you confirmed this by simply rolling over. His expression was cast into one of bliss, still clutching onto you even through slumber. You sank back down with a smile, and decided to sleep, too.

—

Slivers of dawn’s first light trickled through the gossamer curtains — faint enough not to draw any attention, but enough to signal to Jesse that it was early in the morning. He’d stayed the night, and even then, it didn’t seem real.

You were asleep at his side, still nestled against him, but beginning to stir. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was because you were really waking up, or because his hard-on was protruding into you. He remembered last night — kissing you before he’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t one of his smoothest moments — not by a long shot.

“Hey,” As the haze of grogginess began to lift, you were elated to find Jesse — still in your bed, and still next to you. Even being disheveled from sleep, Jesse found you to be astoundingly gorgeous. There was perfection to you that he wanted to drown himself inside of. “You’re here.” You smiled.

“Did you think I ditched or something?” He asked, arm draped around you as you shook off the feeling of slumber. Admittedly, part of you thought he’d wake up and leave, but he proved you wrong.

“A little bit,” You confessed, feeling his hand trace idle patterns into the dip of your waist. You wriggled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad you didn’t.” It was complete and utter bliss, waking up with him — it was the last thing you expected, but you could get used to it.

Jesse huffed, hand dragging from your waist to your face, palm cupping your cheek as he caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Nah,” He smiled this time, cerulean eyes boring into you, becoming lost in the mere presence of you. “Didn’t even cross my mind, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession before you planted a sloppy, slower kiss against his lips. “What crossed your mind instead?” You asked, careening into the sensation of his palm cradling your face.

Jesse felt much better, no longer plagued by the desire for sleep. Instead, there was something else he wanted — he wanted to pick up from last night. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, hand skimming toward your thigh.

“Lots of stuff,” He began, coaxing you against him as he answered your question in between a series of heated, needy kisses. “All about you.” Jesse confessed, peering at you through his lashes before his hand gently grabbed at your ass.

“Yeah? Do you wanna show me?” You asked, becoming a bit breathless whenever he kissed you. It was accompanied by plenty of groping, ensuring that you were flush against him as the tension rose to a boiling point between the two of you.

You weren’t about to recoil, reciprocating his kiss with a passionate one of your own, stomach churning with anticipation. Your hand moved toward the nape of his neck, fingers lightly grabbing at his hair. Each kiss was sweet yet sloppy, and you could feel Jesse’s hand underneath your shirt.

“Yeah, I do. Do you wanna do this?” Jesse murmured, ensuring that he wasn’t jumping the gun. You could’ve changed your mind from last night — that was certainly a possibility, and he’d be just fine with it. He was partially on top of you, but he leaned back enough to gauge your answer.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, sitting up enough to get your shirt off, which Jesse kindly assisted with. The both of you sank into a rather peaceful moment, blissfully quiet as he wriggled out of his shirt.

Jesse leaned forward again, capturing your mouth in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands finding the smooth curve of your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He exhaled, feeling that little pang of nervousness. He hadn’t touched a girl since Jane, but he wasn’t about to let himself be thrust into the past, not now.

Heat saturated your skin, crawling all over you like a fever. In the wake of Jesse’s compliment, you felt sheer elation, feeling his lips roam from your mouth to your jaw. His hands were everywhere, inevitably finding their purchase against your thighs. He peppered a string of kisses from your jaw to your neck, though his kisses soon turned to suckling.

“Jesse.” You moaned, haplessly grasping onto his shoulders as he left a series of hickeys on your neck. You felt his digits curl around the waistband of your panties, but he made no motion to remove them just yet.

Your moan was enough to make him shiver in delight, gaze following the path of your hand as you hastily unclasped your bra. You had such a beautiful body — Jesse felt some semblance of awe, snug against you as you got comfortable atop the comforter.

Continuing his previous route, Jesse’s mouth kissed down your neck and collarbone, stopping above your breasts. Even your smell was intoxicating — everything about you reeled him in. “Jesus,” He mumbled against your sternum. “You’re beautiful.” It was an endless string of softspoken praises that escaped him.

He was scrawny, with a lanky musculature — you found it attractive in the best of ways. Your gaze occasionally fell across his many tattoos, committing every detail to memory. Your fingers continued to tug and pull at his hair, body jolting into him when his mouth wrapped around your nipple.

A low groan resonated from his throat, rippling across his chest when you continued to toy with his hair. His hand traced down the plane of your stomach, slipping underneath the elastic trim of your panties. You nearly buckled, writhing underneath him when his digits slipped against your cunt.

You felt his mouth suck and kiss at your breast, in-tandem with the teasing ministrations of his fingers. It was feather-light, enough to drive you to the brink of frustration. “You wet already, angel?” It was almost an incredulous statement instead of a question.

Fuck — the nickname was enough to send shockwaves pulsating through your body. Your skin became awash with warmth, lips falling apart as you peered down, enough to catch a glimpse of those half-lidded, cerulean eyes and the adoring tilt of his lips. Goosebumps snaked across your spine, back arching off of the bed.

Jesse wasn’t dumb — he knew that your reaction was from the nickname. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, pressing a string of kisses from your breast to stomach, tattooed hand curling into your panties as he inched them past your thighs.

“Say it again,” It was a command that fell from your mouth, and not a plea. Your fingers happened to tense within his hair, enough to make his jeans become uncomfortably tight. “Please.” With a breathy exhale, you felt Jesse’s lips trace across the curve of your hip.

He felt his heart hammer with erratic excitement, tongue absentmindedly flicking out to trace across his lower lip. Christ, you looked so perfect like this — Jesse watched you, breathing intensifying as you spread your legs just a little bit. He often walked the line between nervousness and confidence, feeling a sense of boldness swell within him.

His breath fanned across the inside of your thigh, lips ghosting over the soft skin there. Jesse’s gaze remained fixated upon you, glistening with a sheen of lust as he finally began to kiss his way to the throbbing between your legs. “Where do you want me, angel?” Jesse murmured, assuming that he knew the answer.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way — floating, so unbelievably slick and warm that you felt feverish. Jesse brought out a new level of neediness and desperation that you never thought possible. “Jesse,” You moaned, squirming haplessly as you urged him closer. “Please, please.”

Jesse swallowed, wordlessly following the motion of your hand as he lapped at your cunt, tongue dragging along the length of your slit. You were whimpering, one hand grappling at his freckled shoulder. He was so turned on from the noises you made, enough for him to grind his hips into the mattress.

You sputtered a very pitiful apology when your hips bucked forward, but you were met with a barrage of needy licks and a faint moan. Slivers of morning light pooled through the curtains, falling across Jesse as he buried his face between your thighs. His weeks-old stubble rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your legs.

Nimble digits skimmed forward, one palm splayed against your pelvis as the other gripped down on your thigh. You wanted to sob from how good it felt — he was talented with his mouth, that much was for sure. His tongue flicked over your clit, gestures rhythmic and steady.

A knot formed within your stomach, a coil that continued to tighten, threatening to burst if Jesse kept it up. It all felt like some foreign fever dream, but you much preferred the current reality — Jesse Pinkman, eating you out until you cried. You felt his hand brush against yours, a gesture that was startlingly tender.

One hand untangled itself from his hair, deciding to give him a break, going to hold his hand instead, fingers lacing together. You felt his lips begin to purse around your clit, simultaneously eliciting another noisy, elated moan from your lips.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesse hadn’t realized it, but somewhere in the thick of hooking up with you, he was feeling like himself again. It almost felt as if he’d been transported back to a time before he’d met Walter White, to a time where he was slinging crystal and simply enjoying life. Each moan, every little mewl and keen that escaped you was akin to music.

“Jesse,” You panted, breathing somewhat ragged as he lapped at your clit. That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. “Jesse!” You felt him squeeze your hand, a silent reassurance to let go.

Unbothered by the mess, Jesse groaned, feeding off of your orgasm as he lapped at your cunt, ministrations lacking the vigor from before. Your stomach felt like mush, but you wanted him to fuck you senseless — you almost felt embarrassed for how wound-up you’d become.

He was quiet, kissing your thighs as he began to sit back up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesse ogled you, head cocking to one side before he spoke. “You are so beautiful.” It wasn’t something spoken lightly during sex — you felt it seep right into your bones, genuine as ever.

“So are you.” You replied, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Jesse crawled up, and in a flurry of unrestrained passion, he kissed your mouth. You could taste yourself, taste him — it was enough to make your cunt throb again, still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Could you, uh …” Jesse mumbled, erection pulsing and rubbing right into the pliant flesh of your thigh. “I want you on top.” He was used to climbing on top of girls and going to town until he ran out of stamina, but he had different reasons this time. “I wanna see you.”

Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you nodded, watching as he rolled over, making himself comfortable atop the mound of pillows lining your bed. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke — maybe it was just you. It was soft and sweet, enough to make you shudder as you straddled his hips.

Reaching for his belt, you unfastened it, moving enough for him to kick his pants off. His hands moved toward your thighs, fingers caressing across your flesh as the both of you worked to remove the final article of clothing. He was quiet this time, staring up at you with a searing, intense look — it was almost adoring.

He was unbearably hard, hips writhing slightly, desperate to be inside of you. Jesse nearly melted at the sensation of your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few, sluggish strokes, thumb swiping across the head before you lifted yourself up just enough.

Jesse groaned in tandem with you as you sank down onto his length, digits tensing into your thighs as you adjusted yourself, lips falling apart. You reached for his hands, fingers twining together. Goosebumps erupted across his body, chest fluttering with an unshakable warmth.

“Jesus.” Jesse breathed, watching as you stooped down to press your mouth against his, open-mouthed and sloppy. His tongue traced across your lower lip, and you responded by rolling your hips forward. He exhaled, reciprocating with another heated, messy kiss.

He released one of your hands, enough to grip onto your hip, guiding you into a steady rhythm. Your pace was somewhat sporadic and erratic at first, slipping into a natural flow once he held onto you. Jesse groans, unable to keep from staring at you as if you were perfection incarnate.

You whimper, using your knees to rock yourself up and back down, sinking onto his cock until he’s bottomed out. The intermingling of your moans fill your bedroom, accompanied by the faint squeak and creak of your bed frame. “Jesse.” You mewl, feeling his lips smack against your collarbone.

What started as something slow and sluggish had gained traction, your pace increasing slightly. A crackling, familiar heat raced across your body, making your stomach churn with anticipation, simultaneously pooling with warmth.

A soft moan tore past his lips, skin flushing with a rosy shade as you careened forward, one palm splaying out across his chest. “Shit,” Jesse’s voice emerged again as an excitable pant, squeezing your hand as you continued to piston yourself up and down. “You feel so good, baby.” Any little nickname was enough to make you preen.

Heat rippled through you, continuing to consume your body in waves. He sat up, enough to be within reach of you as he pressed a messy, sultry kiss against your collarbone, clamoring for your mouth as you tilted your head downward.

Your hand snaked from his chest to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair once. Your motions became somewhat uneven and less rhythmic as you rocked yourself on his cock, mewling and whimpering, noises intertwining with his strenuous groans. His palm grabbed at the curve between your thigh and ass, gripping you tight as you rode him.

“M’close,” You huffed, prying your lips away from his, only for you to press a trail of haphazard kisses against his stubbled jaw. “Jesse.” Another whine escaped you, followed by a cacophony of lewd noises. Your thighs felt a strain and burn from pistoning yourself onto his cock so many times, heat pooling between your legs.

Jesse was right there with you, though he wasn’t entirely sure where you wanted him to unload, to put it mildly. “Where do you want me?” He asked again, mirroring his inquiry from earlier. You slowed somewhat at that question, but he shook his head. “Keep going.” Despite the sting of borderline overstimulation, he didn’t want you to stop.

Both of his hands redirected themselves to your hips, guiding you along, letting you grind yourself forward, rolling your hips up and back onto his length. He groaned again, forehead pressed against yours, skin feeling as if it were set ablaze. The hold you had on him already was rather ironclad.

He kissed you again, unusually intimate and full of desire, digits groping and kneading into your curves. Your skin felt velvety underneath his fingertips, and your scent invaded his senses, overwhelming him in the best way possible. His cock was throbbing, swallowed by your tight cunt as you whimpered his name.

“Not inside.” You cautioned, breathlessly clashing with him again — all tongue, teeth and want as Jesse nudged you back. With your newfound position, legs locked around his lanky musculature as he rutted into you, you felt like you were seeing stars. “Holy shit, Jesse!” You moaned.

Jesse wasn’t grotesquely well-endowed, but he knew exactly how to utilize what he had. He felt like he’d broken the barrier right then and there, bottomed out inside of you before he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen as thin ropes of slick seed fell across your abdomen.

His chest heaved with recuperative breaths, perspiration glistening along his brow as he hovered over you. The two of you sighed in-tandem, both coming down from a blissful high. Those pretty, cerulean eyes of his consumed you over and over again, fluttering in rapid succession before he lowered himself to kiss you.

It was slow — too slow, almost, but Jesse savored you, instead. Your nails ghosted across his forearm, tracing around the intricate pattern of his tattoo before skimming toward his shoulders. You reciprocated the kiss with a familiar sweetness, unhooking one leg from his waist.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, gesturing toward the sticky mess that was splattered all over your stomach. “You look so pretty like that.” His tone lowered, taking on some delicious pitch that itched a certain part of you, sending goosebumps trailing across your spine.

Before you could respond, Jesse slipped off of you, tugging on his boxers as he wandered toward your bathroom to grab a towel. It was the first one he could get his hands on, returning to you with a rather adoring look in his eyes.

As you cleaned yourself up, making sure to discard the towel into your laundry basket, Jesse reappeared with a glass of water. It was quite endearing, watching the way he took care of you afterwards without being asked to. He sat next to you, watching as you pulled your panties back on and your t-shirt.

“That was really nice.” Admittedly, you needed it — but it felt better than before, all due to Jesse. You curled up next to him, head resting against his collarbone as his palm moved to cradle your face.

“Yeah, it was.” Jesse murmured, wishing that he could stay with you. He needed to get back home — the house was likely ruined. He’d also briefly glanced at his phone and noticed four missed calls from Mr. White’s number. “I wanna do it again.”

You giggled, nose wrinkling in amusement. “Hanging out together or having sex?” You asked, and he scoffed, lips twitching in a brief flash of a smile. “You can be honest, Jesse. I can handle it.”

“Both,” He confessed, savoring the feeling of your hand delicately tracing over the tattoo on his collarbone. “What if I took you out somewhere, yeah? Like on a date.” Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d asked you, but it was out in the open, now — no going back.

“Okay.” You mused, gaze flickering toward his lips. You would never get tired of kissing him — the taste of spearmint and cigarettes had become borderline addictive. “You can take me out.” With that, you leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his.

Jesse exhaled, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, pad of his thumb caressing over your jawline. “Shit,” He sighed, a forlorn look within his eyes. “I gotta get going. I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to leave, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing you again soon. His phone vibrated again.

You yearned for the contact when he’d rolled out of your bed, getting himself dressed again. Once he found his jacket and keys, you decided to walk him to the door, standing with him in the cool morning breeze. Sunlight glittered down, bathing the both of you in picturesque lighting.

“Jesse,” You murmured, hand poised along the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” You asked, watching him linger around on the front step as he glanced toward his car. After everything that happened, from last night to now, you were a little worried. He wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind — that much you knew.

Jesse hesitated — he didn’t have a viable answer to that. His house was a drug-laden pit, he was beginning to spiral, but you’d kicked him back onto a different path. It was an unpredictable road ahead. Even he had no idea how he’d feel by the end of the day, but one thing was for certain — he’d be okay for you.

He swallowed, and then nodded twice. “Yeah, I think so.” His chest tightened with a flurry of emotions, ones he hadn’t felt since Jane was around. Jesse was absolutely enthralled by you — and he wondered if that would lead to your doom.

With that, you nodded, beginning to turn around. Before you could, you felt a hand curling around your wrist, as if guiding you elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, reeling you back in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” It was a promise to himself, more than it was to you. He was reluctant to pull away, but the buzzing in his pocket became rather urgent.

The kiss caught you off-guard, stealing every wisp of air right out of your lungs, warmth creeping across your skin until it burned something hot within your cheeks. You opened your mouth, unable to keep from smiling.

“See you later, Jesse.”

You really hoped that you would.

[ssivinee]

✧Expert Level✧

Part 1 | Part 2

*Part 2 of "New Game, New Player," so I suggest you read Part 1 first!*

BEBE!Bada Lee x Dancer! F Reader: Jeon Y/n and Bada fall for each other, finding comfort in the latter. Bada never knew how to react around you but kept a strong facade. Yet that comes crumbling down as days go by and you slowly become each other's person.

Word count: 5.8k

Note: This took so long... my hands need a dam break from typing. ALSO VERY MUCH NOT PROOFREAD I GOT TOO EXCITED TO POST THIS.

Character Vision Board

You shouldn't have expected anything less from the leader of Bebe. The deal was to win 2 more battles for a date, which she did just that. She had two matches exactly, one against Redlic of Mannequeen and the other against Gooseul of DeepNDap.

On the other hand, you didn't have any further battles. Other crews were targeting the other members instead. It made you laugh at their face each time Lyn, Heaven, Enyo, and Aria showed out. They shouldn't have questioned the capabilities of your team in the first place. The team was winning more than you can count on one hand, and it made you proud.

When filming ended, Aesthete was all in their room, preparing to leave. As you go to the neighboring room, your duffel bag rests on your shoulders. The team full of youngsters heard a subtle knock on their door. Aware of who it is, Bada opens the door, revealing the other tall dancer.

"So you ready for that dinner?" You ask, leaning on the door frame. She hands you her phone, "Let's switch numbers, and you send me the details," you nod, complying with her wishes. "I'll see you later," you wave off, and she bows in response as your team follows behind you. She turned around, shutting the light blue door, and all her teammates began squealing.

"Wha~ It's really happening," Soweon swoons over the interaction. "Never thought I'd see the day THE Jeon Y/n is hitting on you, unnie," Lusher adds, and all her teammates nod. "The girl who everyone is in love with asked you on a date. I don't know if I should be happy or jealous of you?" Minah jokes at her leader.

"I wonder where she's gonna take you?" Kyma asks, and Bada feels their comments and questions coming at rapid fire. "How bout I go on the dinner first, then I'll let you guys know," she says teasingly, groans filling the room at her sarcasm.

"You're telling us you're not one bit excited for your date?" Cheche wonders, and Bada's face goes red in shame.

"I didn't say that," was all she could say before her crew jumped like little bunnies around her. "This is so exciting for you, unnie," Lusher tells her, and Bada leans her head back, trying to save herself from embarrassment by looking at the ceiling.

"Let's just go home," she grumbles, but their teasing doesn't stop.

"So you can get ready for your date?"

"Will you guys shut up!"

Bada was now at her apartment, readying herself for the next few hours. She had just gotten out of the shower, and her phone notified her about a message.

Y/n❣️ You good in an hour?

Bada was now alarmed, looking at the time. It was only 6 p.m., but she was agitated, knowing she was nowhere near ready.

Ocean🩵 I don't even know what to wear?????

Y/n❣️ Something fancy

Bada replies sure, connecting her address to the message, and scurries through her closet. Fancy? All Bada saw in her closet was her array of baggy clothing. That was until she was nearing the other side of her closet, catching the sight of a handful of dresses. She decided to wear a black velvet bodycon dress that hugged every curve of her body, then topped it with an off-white light cardigan and some sandals.

Time went by, and she heard the doorbell of her place ring. Bada rushes over to her door, fixing up her oreo hair that was now up in a ponytail before opening the door to see you.

Her eyes grow wide at the view of your apparel. Your hair was in a low bun, showing off the chains you wore. Your suit made you look like you had legs for days, and your boots added an inch to your height.

You made Bada breathless.

You reveal the flowers that hide behind your back, giving them to her with a broad smile as you look her up and down, enjoying the sight. Her usual style had gone out the window, and what stood before you was a feminine beauty who looked divine in the sleek dress.

"You look gorgeous, Bada." You tell her softly, and the latter is trying to take everything in all at once. Your perfume filled her nose, and she smiled at you, "I could say the same thing about you."

"Well, are you ready to go?" She only nods, clutching her bag as she takes your hand. Your eyebrow raises at the touch, but you grasp her hand tighter, loving the warmth it gives you. You take her to your car, open the passenger side, and she thanks you. Making your way to the driver's side, you make your way to a fancy restaurant, and Bada marvels at the building. "Isn't it expensive here?"

"The prices don't matter, Bada. I asked you to come with me. So don't worry about anything." You tell her as you help her exit the car. She wraps her arm around yours, taking in her surroundings. When the two of you enter, her grip becomes tighter, and you look at her. Unable to hold the smile you had, her eyes were roaming around like a lost child.

You go to the host and ask for a table for two. The duo was seated, and you immediately asked for some cider, something light since you still had to drive home. The two of you reading up on the menu and picking out some meals. "Are you sure about this Y/n? The prices are actually crazy."

You grab her hand from across the table, looking at her earnestly, "I told you not to worry about it, Bada." Her heart quickened at the tone of your voice, just nodding.

The two of you drank the alcoholic beverages and started to chat. "I guess I'm your top student now, huh?" Bada jokes, getting an airy chuckle out of you. "Well, you're gonna have to prove it." Her face goes puzzled. "And how would I do that?"

You lean your body forward and whisper, "You just have to be a good girl. You can do that for me, right?" Bada's face was now painted red, her body heating up at the choice of words. She obediently nods, and you let out another chuckle, amused by the reactions she gave you. The world knew her as the confident, tall dancer, but to you, she was a beautiful woman crumbling under your gaze.

"So~ Working as an in-house choreographer under SM?" You try and make conversation. As much as you liked teasing her, you genuinely wanted to get to know her. "Yeah," she says with a tight-lipped smile. "Can I ask how that happened?"

"Uhm, YoungJ oppa had been working with NCT, and he introduced me to Kai first. I guess he liked my dancing so much that he kept asking me to work on the pieces with him." You nod, knowing how Kai was when meeting him while hanging out with BTS Jimin at one point. "I noticed he really does hand-pick the dancers he wants."

"What about you and HYBE?" You sigh at her question, and her brows furrow at your reaction. "I got in due to Bang Si-hyuk's request."

She looks at you weirdly, "Then what's with the reaction?"

"Cause everyone thinks it's cause of Jungkook-oppa." You quickly say, and she nods in understanding. "I started working with TXT first, just so people wouldn't say anything. I even did my best to avoid any project with him, but I couldn't avoid doing RunBTS."

"Why is that?"

"Cause oppa and his members personally asked me," you tell her, but truthfully, they all bombarded your phone and visited your place until you'd accepted. "Do you enjoy it? Being under HYBE?"

"Of course I do. What I hate is all the words being thrown around with it. It's a blessing and a curse," you admit, head hanging low. You hated talking about it in a pessimistic way, but it was something that would be looming over your head for years to come. "Never mind that. How about we talk about that class we agreed on?" Bada grins at your words, "What do you have in mind?"

"A duo dance," you say instantly, and Bada's eyebrows rise. "To what song?" That's when you shrugged. "Whose your favorite artist? We can do a song from them," you suggest.

"It's Vedo," she answers simply, but you laugh, "I should've assumed."

"What does that even mean?"

"Do you know how many videos I've seen of you dancing to his music?" She goes shy, looking away at the question. Your food then arrives, and the two of you get to eat.

"What about this one?" Bada points at the tattoo on your collarbone. The two of you talked about all the ink on your body. You mainly explained that you just loved the look of it, but some did have meaning to it.

The tattoo she gestures to is a rose intertwined with the words, 'Your only limit is you.' You smiled just thinking of the words, "It's just my daily reminder," you joke. "In all seriousness, though, it just reminds me that I shouldn't stop getting what I want, no matter the cost."

You pause before looking dead in her eyes, "Like getting you."

Her mouth goes slightly ajar at your words. She wasn't sure if she loved or hated you for making her feel completely different. THE Bada Lee was having a hard time with someone for once, and she didn't know how to handle it.

The dinner continues to go smoothly, and you suggest going for a walk on the beach. To your dismay, Bada agrees, and you two are now taking a stroll. You lent her your coat, making sure she wouldn't freeze, and the soft sand buried your feet as the cold breeze of the ocean waves over the two of you.

Hand-in-hand, your arms swayed with each other while listening to the sounds of the crashing waves. "Bada, what do you see in your future?" You ask suddenly, and Bada thinks, unable to respond quickly. "I see a dance studio in my name, with Bebe still by my side and a loving partner who would do anything for me."

"That's a very leader-like answer," You smile at her, "How about you?"

"I don't know yet," you go deep into thought. "I just want to be happy. I guess I just like living in the now." You tell while rubbing the back of your neck. "I do want Aesthete to still be together. They brought me a new sense of life," Bada stared at you as you talked about your team in admiration. Bada saw a glimmer in your eye for the first time, maybe the longing of wanting something you could keep forever.

You chatted more about work, dance, family, and friends before realizing how late it was getting. So you drop her back home, walking her back to her apartment door. "I had a good time," she says faintly, and you kiss the back of her hand. Bada was entirely surprised by your gentlewomanly tendencies, "I'm glad, truly." She couldn't look you in the eye, looking at your hand instead. "About that class... wanna make it happen? With Bebe and Aesthete?" You ask. Bada looks at you, "You were being serious? I mean, I'd love to. It would be fun."

"I'll make it happen, Bada. I promise."

The next day, the class mission had just been announced, and it got everyone busy. Your teammates were around the building, finding a quiet place to start working.

You decided to offer to listen to 'Smoke' with Bada in the large dance studio the Street Woman Fighter building had. The two of you stood in the room, listening intently to the song's beats, rhythm, and lyrics. Most of the time, Bada observed you as your body moved quickly, instantly becoming familiar with the music. It was watching your true form at work, and she loved every moment of it.

Bada commended you in her head. Dance just came so quickly to you. It should be that way, but she couldn't fathom the amount of style you used in one go. You were like an oiled machine with much information stored in your brain. While doing that, you went in and out of the room, explaining to Bada that you were just helping and checking up on your girls.

As you repeat some of your moves, trying to find the perfect ones, Bada joins you. Unlike you, she just used the beat and lyrics instead. Occasionally, your brain starts picking up the movements she connected together. You watch as she starts from the beginning. She isolated her neck as she sauntered, mimicking the lyrics, "Light it up."

She flicks up her hand, imitating a working lighter, and you hype her up a little. Your cheers and sickening facial expressions gave her more confidence to use massive power. Despite being technical rivals, you weren't afraid to admit how cool her movements were. You take a break at some point, and she watches as she pieces the second half of the choreography. By the end, you were clapping for her with a proud smile as if she had just won an award. "Your brain works wonders, I tell you." You pat her butt, and she tackles you. Your arms go around her waist, making sure you find your balance. "You ready for this?"

"I think I am," she answers you with a smile, and the two of you head down to the fight zone, seeing all the leaders already there, and sit next to each other.

All you could say as people took turns, they were harsh.

It was soon Bada's turn, and you look at her. Bada tended to bite her lip when she got nervous, and you realized how much she did it throughout every dance a leader presented. While paying attention to everyone's words, your hand makes its way onto her lap, and you clasp your hands on hers as your thumb rubs the back of her hands, calming her down.

When it's Bada's turn, you give her a thumbs up as she stands there. She begins, and everyone finds her choreography the coolest and most doable.

"It looks the coolest. I want to do a dance that can prove our abilities as dancers."

"The groove of it is nice. I wouldn't mind using this piece."

"Isn't this harder to steal?" You look over to the owner of the voice, Mina Myoung. "If we try out for this dance, we have a higher chance of losing." Bada only nods at her words, understanding the thought she took into consideration. Yet, you didn't get it. You wanted so badly to defend Bada.

All of you were dancers and professionals at that. It was your job, and if you didn't have the confidence to do it, maybe it wasn't suitable for you. You held back your tongue, knowing it wasn't your place to talk.

It was then your turn to show out, and you got up to the walkway, showing the powerful yet sleek dance you had prepared. Everyone expresses how they liked the route you took and how cool it made you feel, but on the technicality side, it had aspects of popping and locking with some commercial sprinkled in there that looked difficult to pull off, which makes you nod in understanding.

"Doing this dance would be great. The lines are clean, and it looked empowering."

Kristen smiles at you, "Dude, you're insane. The stylistic choices, the rhythm your body used? I wanna learn it." Yet you hit the same wall Bada does.

"The technicality of it, though, it's not something many of us can't do."

"As cool as the dance is, this choreography is much more in your favor."

That's just when you had to say, "As leaders, we should all be able to dance something at a high level due to our years of experience. We come here not only to show our dance but our leadership to people." Your words simmer in many of their minds, knowing you weren't wrong.

The voting began, and it was a close call between yours, Bada's, and Akanens. The leaders decided to come back and group up later when there was more thought in their choices. When coming back, Bada's dance wins against yours 5 to 2. You were satisfied, though. In fact, you were joyed. You shake her shoulders, congratulating the girl, "You're just too good." And she hugs you in happiness, squeezing hard around your shoulders.

You tell your team, and you are pleased with the outcome. You just knew how trendy the choreography looked and how everyone would be dancing to it when the episode was released.

Now, the leaders were back in the Fight Zone, where Bada prepared to teach the choreography. You decide to stay beside Kristen and give her a fist bump. Bada begins, and as she teaches everyone, the Aesthete and Jam Republic leaders' voices can be heard.

"You really do move those hips like water, Kris," you tell her as you pat the shorters hips, and she giggles. "Says you."

"I mean you over here using so much space and extending your moves. You're making my muscles tense over here." You say, and she hits you jokingly. These interactions happened often throughout the session.

Bada's gaze kept looking at the two of you with much distaste. Your focus should've been on her and her only. This causes her mood to sour, and she targets you gradually during the rehearsal.

"Y/n, you didn't move your chest during the walk."

"No no, that's wrong, your angles are too small."

"Jeon Y/n, are you even paying attention."

You were taken aback by her quick flip in emotions. What the fuck is happening right now?

You couldn't understand what went wrong. Every move was correctly done, down to the facial expression and vibe. As you made friends with the other leaders, you realized it had worsened. Bada was scoffing and giving you death glares every moment she could.

During your break, Bada strays away to the Bebe hideout, and you follow her. You enter the room without warning, making Bada whip her head at the door's sudden opening.

"What is your problem right now, Bada?" You ask, a sound of hurt layered underneath. "I've been doing everything properly?" Your statement sounded more like a question. Throughout the hours, you began doubting if you did anything right but were honestly trying your hardest. So why were you getting shunned for it?

When Bada hears your pain, she beats herself up mentally. She couldn't help but be jealous when she had no right to. "I'm sorry," she huffs, and you sit beside her. "What is it, Bada? What have I done?" You ask with caution, and Bada can't meet your eyes.

"I don't like how close you are with Kristen." She mumbles, and your eyes widen. That was the issue? You chuckle at the girl, and she looks at you with large eyes, "It's not funny," she says, whining. You found it endearing, squishing her face.

She discreetly yearned for your attention the entire time.

Bada was bitter about the attention you gave others and couldn't comprehend why since it was her dance and she was teaching it. "You do know I'm only interested in you, right?" You state the obvious, but Bada's heart flutters. Your arm wraps around her shoulder, "Come on, it's time for the main dancer auditions."

You two head down, and everyone notices the two of you together, which causes every team to tease you two. Bada sat down with her team, hiding her face as she tucked her knees into her chest. You loved it, though. People would now aware of the situation between you two, and you believed it would reassure Bada.

"Dang unnie, it's only been two days, and you guys are that close?" Lyn teases. "They seemed more than close. Are you guys dating yet?" Heaven asks, and you just hushed them. "Auditions are starting, please focus."

That they did, but as time passed, none of your girls made it as main dancers. You were still proud since they had all made it to the second round of reauditions. They were the biggest competitors in each class.

It was time for the leaders, and Bada's group was up first. You stood behind them while marking your movements beside Kristen. After your chat with Bada, you made it your mission to dance all out, proving that you were paying attention and that she was your number one priority. Bada's group goes first, and no one saw anyone else but Bada on that stage. She was like a bright candle standing taller above the rest, unwilling to give out. During the hip roll, you bite your lip. God, is she so sexy. You then quickly erased your thoughts when it was your turn.

As you begin, you walk up, and everyone's attention is on you and Kristen. You let the music fully control your body, and Bada watches the two of you with hawk eyes. She wouldn't openly admit it, but she wanted to keep you and Kristen in check. She liked you but also wanted to carry the tradition of holding the main dancer. The way the two of you dance made her nervous. You two filled the stage and danced like no one else was around.

The judges have a hard time choosing, so they make you reaudition. "For the reaudition, we want Tsubakill's Akanen, Aesthete's Jeon Y/n, Jam Republic's Kristen, and Bebe's Bade Lee."

You and Akanen were up first, and you were holding your ground. You knew the advantages you had in this. The stature of your body was similar to Bada's, but you had more muscles, and you knew you could copy Bada's movements to the tea. Once you end, the two dancers switch with Bada and Akanen. You watched, pleased at the two and their difference in styles. Kristen made sure to use the entire stage and show her flexibility while doing certain moves, while Bada showed much more attitude than usual. It felt captivating yet exhilarating to watch, and you got excited

The four of you stood on the stage, and you smiled hearing Shonwu's words. "We have another reaudition. It's Bebe's Bada Lee and Aesthete's Jeon Y/n." You wink at Bada, who smirks at you, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You were grinning ear to ear and stood beside each other on stage. Once the music begins, the two of you turn to serious mode. You guys danced similarly, and everyone realized how difficult the choice would be. It was identical, almost as if you mirrored each other’s movement. It looked like Bada took over your body while you took over hers.

When you finish, you see the looks of disdain on the judge's faces, making you chuckle quietly. They talked for 5 minutes, but it felt like an eternity until Monika announced Bada had won the position.

The taller brings you into a relieved hug. You mumble how amazing she is, so she kisses you on the cheek. You were amazed by Bada, not because she beat you, but because she carried such humbleness. She held you close, and you wonder if she was so scared of not meeting everyone's expectations.

But she knew she lived up to yours.

After 3 days of waiting, today was the day you all had to film for the video. You sat in the makeup chair, feeling the black mascara almost smeared on your face's temple area. You open your eyes, looking around at the other leaders. Their makeup was a mess, making you all look like you were all a part of the cult.

While Bada, on the other hand, looked like the queen you were all worshipping. Her lips looked fuller due to the applied lipstick, the gems on the bridge of her nose accentuated her sharp facial features, and you couldn’t even react how you wanted to, not wanting to mess up your makeup artist.

Your gaze was now fixed on your mirror, and you were stunned at the look. It looked tamer than the rest, the makeup artist even putting some gems around your eyes. You were confused but didn’t question it, being a little happy you had something special going on.

Bada's makeup was completed first, and she took some mirror photos to capture her beauty. You had sneakily gone beside her, comfortably putting your arms around her waist. She flinched, "what are you doing?" She asks.

You just mumble into her shoulder, "Just take a picture," your deep voice giving her chills. She was sure glad she had layers of makeup on her face, or else you could see the blush forming rapidly. You continue to take photos, some even with you being in front of Bada, due to your height, arms wrapped around your neck, while acting as if she was gonna give you a peck on the cheek, yet she couldn't, afraid of getting her lipstick on your face.

"Filming begins in 5!" Everyone was told, and you all made your way onto the set.

Everyone crowded around on set when the camera started rolling, and you all marked your positioning. Kang Daniel made an announcement as filming progressed, but none of the leaders paid any mind about it, just focusing on their jobs. The ending scene had you, Bada, and Kristen dancing together, and you circle around each other being part of Bada’s idea. She blows on her thumb, insinuating she blew out the lighter.

When monitoring the entire thing, your eyes only watched Bada. You whistled when seeing her face and called her hot so often that the dancer tried to cool herself down by thirsting on her ice-cold water.

The shoot was complete, and you were excited to remove the makeup. Bada sees your bare face and how precious you look without all the fixed production all over you. Your long hair was messy, and you wore a navy blue tracksuit. You had texted her while getting ready to go, offering her a ride home, which she openly accepted, and asked her to meet you at the parking lot.

During the ride back to Bada's place, you notice the lip-biting and calmly tell her, "You know I'm here for you, right? If you just wanna get something off your chest, I'm all ears." She admits she was scared in a shaky voice. Everyone had worked really well on set. Bonds and friendships were being made left and right. Bada couldn't help but worry over her choice of worst dancer. You had thought about it, too. It was about to come down to the tiniest things when making a choice, but you just laid your hand on Bada's thigh, rubbing it in comfort, "When the time comes, I know you'll make the right decision."

You pause a little and joke, “even if it’s me.” You say, lifting up her mood. The both of you knew well in yourselves that she wouldn’t pick you. Really, she couldn’t even if she wanted to. Bada gave you many ways to shine: the makeup, the outfit, and center position in the final scene. There was almost no way she could pick you without looking like the craziest person in the world.

You drop her off, and this time, as a goodbye, you kiss her cheek, "I'll pick you up on Friday? So we can go on set together?" and she just obliges with a nod, not trusting anything to come out of her mouth because of your kiss.

Friday comes, and you pick Bada up from her place. That was after you had stopped by a coffee shop getting you two some bitter iced Americanos as you learned it was Bada’s favorite.

"You didn't have to, Y/n," she says as you hand her the coffee, "But I wanted to." She smiles as she joyfully sips on the drink. You had your music on the radio, with Bada and you singing to each other as you let her dance crazily while trying to drive safely. The car was full of laughter before the nerve-racking day, and it kept Bada's mind off it for some time.

As you make it to the building, you grab her hand and walk hand in hand-into the building. People notice the sight of the two together, and the teasing again erupts as you're both talked about by other crews, even your own. When the two of you separate ways, you see your team of younger dancers grinning your way. "Please tell me the two of you are dating now," Aria says, giggling beside you in the hideout. "You seem more excited about us getting together than we are," You kid.

"Unnie, you have to ask her out? What if someone beats you to it?"

"You mean if someone beats Bada-unnie to it." Lyn and Enyo argue, and you just smirk. "I don't think either of that will happen," you say with pure confidence, and your team shrieks in anticipation.

Everyone gets ready to head to the main stage, but you pull her aside when you see Bada walking in front of you. She looks at you anxiously, and you take both hands into her grasp, trying to shake the nerves away. "You'll make the right choice. I know you will," you tell her as you caress her face and kiss her forehead, which causes you to have to fix her beanie a little. She nods while deep breathing, "You're right, you're right." She tells you but repeats, seemingly trying to reassure herself of what will happen.

You were the last ones to the fight zone, but rather than receiving the teases and comments, it was dead silent. The tension was getting to everybody. This was for the first mission, and it was for the sake of their teams. It was terrifying, to say the least.

The videos started with the rookie class, where Rena was the main dancer. While watching, everyone was energized, the rookies boosting the mood of the studio. You watched the youngest, Lyn, who looked like she had the most fun while dancing to the high-energy pop song. When the video ends, you smile at Lyn, patting her thigh.

"You did so well, Lynnie," you tell her, and she tightly wraps her arms around your neck, giving you a quick cuddle in the crook of your neck.

As you watched the other videos, you never expected anything less from your team. Everyone did their jobs and did it right. Enyo and Heaven could be seen in the sea of dancers, and that told you enough. The air shifts when Mannequeen's Yoonji and Waackxxxy pick Kyma and Cheche as the worst dancers. The younger girls were asked to speak, but almost nothing came out. So Kang Daniel reverts the attention to Bada, "Bada-nim, what can you say?"

She picks up the mic and finds the right words, "I'll just have to consider this when choosing whose worst dancer is in leader class." Your mind spiraled at Bada's relaxed manner as she nodded, adding salt to the wound. Mannequeen was already down by 100 points. They couldn't afford any more losses right now.

Aria was whispering about their problems with you. During the video, everyone enjoyed it. The Lusher and Latrice duo made you proud of both girls. Latrice's solo in the end and Aria's center moment made you glad.

But while talking about the sub-leaders, the mood was still uneasy. "It seemed like most of us got along, other than Latrice and Downy. But Redlic did seem like she had a lot of say behind the scenes about Kristen being there helping Latrice help direct the video." You nod, understanding the circumstances now. If Kristen was there for support and threw ideas around, you didn't see the big issue. You assumed the other sub-leaders were questioning Latrice's leadership the entire time. Jam Republic then discussed who to pick, and you hear several names thrown around until you hear one of the girls saying a word that began with an 'R.' So you knew even before announcing who it was.

"The person I pick as the worst dancer is Redlic," by all means, after what you heard, you weren't even shocked by her choice. If you felt disrespected, you'd do the exact same thing.

It was now the leader's turn, and your hand felt sweaty. You knew in your heart you did well, and there was almost little to no chance of being the worst dancer, but you worried for Bada, not knowing if she'd be able to take the reality of her choice.

Everyone watched, and the crews were in awe. The way it was filmed, the dance, the vibes, it was too good. In the ending scene with you, Kristen, and Bada, everyone cheered, giving you all a standing ovation. You bow while seated, showing your respects, but it is finally time to pick.

Bada chats with her team and you. You look at her, feeling your chest getting heavy. She turns around and brings the mic to her mouth, "The leader I pick as the worst dancer is... DeepNDap Mina Myoung."

Kang Daniel asks for some words from Mina, but as she cries, your eyes never leave Bada's, seeing the tears falling down her cheeks. Your heart ached at the sight as her members tried to calm her down quickly. Never in a million years did you want to see Bada cry out of sadness. All you wanted to do was run up and give her the warmest hug you could.

Bada's eyes meet yours, and they plead for you to be near her. You bite your lip with a nod, getting frustrated as the time felt like it was going too slow for your liking. Even when your team ranked second, your mind was tunnel visioned on the tall dancer, and when you heard "Cut" from the director, you ran over to Bada. She stands up and lets your body fall into hers.

You swayed her body, and she relaxed, leaving her chin on her shoulder. "There were no wrong choices. You picked what you felt was right." The hug lasted forever, but you took her to the Aesthete room when you pulled her apart. The sad girl stood there as you whipped her tears away with a soft tissue and smiled a little.

"What are you smiling at, huh?"

"How pretty you are," she simply states, and you laugh. You grab her face, pecking her with light kisses, and she giggles. The tickling feeling makes her swoon over you. You then wanted to ensure you sealed the deal, giving her soft kisses on the lips.

For some reason, this doesn't surprise Bada. She takes it with open arms, even reciprocating it. "I don't ever wanna see you cry like that again," you tell her sincerely, but she laughs. "With you? I doubt I ever will."

Taglist: @1luvkarina @only-minghaos @kpopgirl-97 @tikitsune

[kepamount]

clueless

mason mount x reader one shot - fake dating, smut and fluff

warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, virgin reader, first time sex, dom!mason and sub!reader, dirty talk, praise and degradation, body worship, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, overstimulation, I think that's it but pls lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 18.1k+ (she's a mammoth, ofc)

a/n: this is unedited and it’s also 2 different wips mashed together so pls forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies, i’ll edit this tomorrow! happy valentine's day! ik i've been very quiet recently but i'm gifting you guys with this to make up for it! the buildup is very long but the smut is hopefully worth it lol, it's very soft by my usual standard but i think you guys will still like it! lmk what you think <3

‘You’re late,’ I say as I open the front door, not bothering to welcome him in before I turn and head back into the kitchen, his amused chuckling making me roll my eyes. I continue with the washing up, hearing him shut the front door and enter the kitchen a few moments later.

‘You’re late too. I said to be ready for half past. It’s quarter to and you’re still washing up,’ he points out, helping himself to a cookie from the jar on the counter before sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘I only started washing up because you weren’t here yet. What do you expect me to do? Sit by the door waiting for you?’ I ask without looking at him, washing the dishes with vigour to get my irritation out. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I expect,’ he responds, smirk audible in his voice, and I look over my shoulder to shoot him a death stare, looking at him properly for the first time.

Annoyingly, he looks as handsome as he always does, dressed in a pair of baby blue joggers and a white t-shirt with some obscure designer logo on it. His beard is at the perfect length, and so is his hair, fluffy and soft-looking. His skin is just about holding onto its tan from the World Cup and he looks like he’s been spending a lot of time in the gym, clothes tighter around his muscles than they used to be.

‘Can we go? As nice as the view is from here, I don’t want to spend my day off watching you wash up,’ he says impatiently, his demand annoying me so much that I almost don’t notice the comment on my ass. ‘Maybe if you hadn’t been late,’ I say irritably, rinsing off the last dish before washing my hands and drying them, the boy eating another cookie.

‘Stop eating all my cookies,’ I snap, so close to snatching it out of his hand, and he rolls his eyes before finishing it off. ‘I’ll buy you more.’ ‘I made them myself.’ ‘Oh, so that’s why they taste like shit then,’ he grins, and I take a deep breath to compose myself, heading towards the front door before I put his head through my kitchen wall.

I sit down on the bottom step of the staircase to put my boots on, doing up the zip slowly so I don’t catch my socks in it (it’s happened one too many times, and I’m sick of having holey socks). I’m wearing an outfit inspired by Clueless – a white bodycon ribbed dress with a thin pink cardigan over the top of it, and white knee high boots that add a couple extra inches to my height.

I check my reflection in the mirror beside the front door, Mason leaning against the doorframe and inspecting his nails in a way that indicates how bored he is waiting for me, and I make sure my phone, keys, lipgloss and powder are all in my little white Hermes Kelly bag before I turn to face him.

‘Ready?’ Mason asks, not waiting for an answer before he opens the door and walks out. Chivalry is dead. I lock up behind us, the boy already sat in the car by the time I head down the patio steps, and I’m surprised when he at least has the courtesy to push open the passenger side door for me. The kindness of the gesture is lost when the door hits me and nearly knocks me over, Mason laughing uncontrollably as I scowl at him.

I climb into the car, shutting the door behind me before adjusting the seat to my liking. He starts the engine, racing out of my driveway as I connecting my phone with Bluetooth to the car. He doesn’t say anything but his pursed lips say everything for him – he’s always complaining about my passenger-princess tendencies. I shuffle my Summer Walker playlist, Mason groaning when the opening notes of ‘Tonight’ start playing out of the speakers on either side of us. He skips it, but when he realises the next song’s Summer as well, he doesn’t bother trying to turn it off, letting me skip it back to the last song.

‘All you listen to is RnB. Doesn’t it get boring?’ he grumbles as I sing along obnoxiously loud, flexing my vocals by acing Summer’s runs. ‘Better than the music you listen to.’ ‘I listen to music by people that you’re friends with.’ ‘That’s beside the point. They might be my friends but I can acknowledge that their music is not good.’ ‘It’s not a flex to have no taste.’

‘I know you, a footballer, are not trying to tell me, a singer-songwriter, about music taste. I don’t try and tell you about… football stuff,’ I say pointedly, and he shoots me a side-eye. ‘Because you haven’t got a clue about football.’ ‘Neither do you but I don’t say shit,’ I say sweetly, getting a half-hearted dirty look in response.

‘What are we doing today?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘You haven’t planned anything?’ I ask jokingly, and he doesn’t even dignify it with a response, both of us knowing fully well that I always plan our dates. ‘It’s Valentine’s next week. You have to plan that at least,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes at the reminder. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m sick of always planning our dates! You’re the boy. You should take responsibility for date planning, not me.’ ‘How feminist of you,’ he says sarcastically, and I scoff. ‘Feminism’s about choice, and I choose to be treated like a princess by my boyfriend.’ ‘Maybe you should find a real boyfriend instead then,’ he says dryly, and I let out an irritated huff.

Mason is my fake boyfriend – our agents work for the same company and thought it would be mutually beneficial for us to be in a PR relationship. For me, they thought dating Chelsea and England’s starboy would only boost me to higher levels of fame and introduce me and my music to an entirely new audience, and they were right – I never thought I’d have Chelsea fans asking me for photos outside Stamford Bridge before matches.

Mason, however, is getting a lot more out of this than I am. In the last year or so, he’s been getting a bit of a negative reputation – being pictured with influencer girlies, hanging with the wrong crowd, getting drunk a bit too often, not to mention the dip in his form on the pitch. His agent decided to find him a good, clean-cut girlfriend who would lead him back onto the straight and narrow, as well as help to change the minds of Chelsea fans who think he’s a lazy waste of space.

My reputation is perfect to improve Mason’s. I’ve never been involved in any kind of controversy and I’m always on my best behaviour when I’m out in public. On top of that, I went on a friend’s podcast about a year ago, and when the conversation turned to NDAs and celebrity flings, I confessed that I’ve never dated and I’m a virgin. All of a sudden, I became the nation’s sweet, pure and innocent sweetheart. I hate to benefit from the patriarchy but my virginal status has made me a supposed ‘good role model’ for the young girls of today, so my fanbase has increased drastically.

‘Maybe I will. Then you can kiss your improved reputation goodbye.’ ‘More than I can do to you. Maybe then I can find a less boring fake girlfriend. Someone who’s actually been touched by a man before,’ he says pointedly, bringing up the contract I made him sign despite his reluctance for the thousandth time.

Mason and I actually knew each other before this whole thing started – we ran in the same social circles, and we always got along relatively well. But, as soon as I laid out the rules about what he could and couldn’t do with me, things quickly went sour in our relationship.

Because the entire world thinks he’s dating me, he’s not allowed to flirt/date/kiss/sleep with any other girls – it would only tarnish his reputation even more if it got out, defeating the point of this relationship. I assume he thought I’d sleep with him (so that he’d still be getting some), so he didn’t take it well at all when I told him I didn’t even want him to kiss me, let alone sleep with me.

He thought I was being unreasonable, and that no one would believe we were together if there wasn’t any PDA, but I thought it was perfectly reasonable that I didn’t want to waste all my firsts on a fake boyfriend– I just about allowed him to hold my hand or put his hand on my lower back (not too low though). As time’s gone on, we’ve been getting along less and bickering more, so now he barely even does those things. It’s like he hates touching me – he practically jumps a mile in the air whenever our arms brush against each other. It doesn’t bother me much though – I’d much rather be touched by a man that actually wants to touch me.

‘You need to tell me what we’re doing so I know which way to go,’ he says, coming to a stop at a junction. ‘The Vault. I need to get my nails done, and do some shopping.’ ‘You’re having a laugh. You basically want me to be your taxi driver and bag-holder today. That’s not a date,’ he says, sounding outraged, and I roll my eyes. ‘We can go for dinner there too. And anyway, celeb couples always go shopping together,’ I say mildly, the boy still shaking his head despite how he takes the turning for the route to The Vault, a designer outlet around five minutes away from my house.

He drives in a stony silence but I don’t let his bad mood dampen my good one, still singing along to Summer Walker and watching the world pass us by out the window. This weather is still freezing at the moment but it’s a beautiful day regardless of the temperature. The sky’s a lovely clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sun is beating down brightly.

It’s not long until we arrive at the shopping centre, and Mason pulls up in front of the main entrance, both of us getting out of the car. Mason grabs a matching baby blue hoodie out of the boot before handing the valet the keys while I fix my skirt, making sure I look picture perfect.

He waits for me to join him, offering his hand reluctantly, and I take it, letting him lock his fingers with mine. We walk through the automatic doors into the warmth of The Vault, and I let out a happy sigh. I love this place so much – the fluffy carpets, comfy chaise lounge chairs and crystal chandeliers everywhere scream luxury.

‘Where to first?’ Mason asks, and I point towards the directory stand, the nail shop on the third floor. He leads me to the lift, letting me in first and pressing the buttons so I don’t have to get my hands dirty. He’s lacking in a lot of things, but he’s always a gentleman in public, and I appreciate it even if it is just for the eyes of everyone else.

When we enter the nail shop, whispers run around the room. It tends to be only rich people that shop at The Vault, but it’s not every day that two international stars walk in together. ‘y/n, darling! How are you?’ my nail tech asks, appearing from the back room to come and give me a hug. ‘I’m good, Christie. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, my love. So introduce me then,’ she prompts, not one for subtlety, and I cringe internally as I say, ‘this is my boyfriend, Mason. Mase, this is Christie, my nail tech.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says with a brilliant smile, his charming behaviour making me supress an eyeroll. I never get this charming side – he reserves it for everyone else, and I get the annoying dickhead side instead. ‘Such a good-looking boy,’ Christie says to me, and I force out a little laugh, making myself nod in agreement. ‘Not as good-looking as my girlfriend, though,’ he jokes naturally with a little smile at me, affection in his eyes, and I’m taken aback at how good his acting is.

‘Of course, of course. Now, come, let’s get started,’ Christie says, leading us to her table in the corner, everyone’s eyes following us across the room. I take a seat, hanging my bag on the chair, and Mason hovers awkwardly beside me. ‘Sit here, Mase,’ I say, motioning to the seat beside me, but he shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna do some shopping. I’ll be back in a bit,’ he says, and I feel a little bit guilty for dragging him here.

‘You can… go, if you want. I’ll get Isla to pick me up later,’ I say, but he waves it off immediately. ‘Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind looking around the shops. I’ll be back soon, alright?’ he says, and I nod, mustering up a smile for him as he goes. The other girls in the shop watch him as he walks to the exit, sparking jealousy in me, followed by surprise at myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but the thought of these other girls fancying him makes me rage internally.

Christie starts removing my old set, distracting me as she chatters away about the latest drama in her tumultuous life. Last time I saw her, she was dating a Brighton player, but now apparently she’s moved on from him and she’s got a Kpop boy in her DMs. I get my nails done every three weeks, and she has a different love interest every single time.

Mason reappears when Christie’s painting gel polish onto my new set, a smile on his face when I meet his eyes. All the girls are watching him again but his eyes don’t stray from me, satisfaction filling me. Ogle him all you want, ladies, but he’s my fake boyfriend.

He has a Starbucks cup in his hand which he puts down on the table as he sits in the chair beside me. ‘An iced blonde caramel macchiato with soy milk and sugar-free syrup,’ he announces, and I can’t hold back my smile as I look at him in surprise. ‘You remembered my order?’ I ask, and he lets out a laugh. ‘Not off by heart. It’s in my notes app so I don’t have to ask you every time,’ he says, the truth touching me even more. He knew he won’t be able to remember so he made a note of it. It’s sweet.

‘You’re cute, Mount,’ I say affectionately, maybe giving him the first compliment since this relationship began. ‘You’re about to find me even cuter,’ he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of gourmet jelly beans that he must have gotten from Selfridges – their confectionary section is massive. ‘Mase,’ I say, dragging the word out in a way that makes him grin.

‘Thought you might want a snack, because you’ve probably only had fruit for breakfast,’ he says, knowing me so well, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, because jelly beans are really gonna make up for a light breakfast.’ ‘Better than nothing.’ ‘I suppose. Thank you,’ I say, leaning towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek, the boy raising an eyebrow when I pull away. I only save cheek kisses for when he’s not being at all irritating, and he knows that. The smirk on his face clearly means he’s satisfied at being in my good books for once.

Christie has one of my hands in the UV nail lamp and the other in her hand, intricately painting on a heart, so I can’t pick up the drink. I lean towards it to try and take a sip but it’s a little too far away, and I don’t want to move too much for fear of getting told off by Christie (the woman doesn’t play). ‘Here,’ Mason says, lifting the cup and holding it to me. I take a long sip through the straw, our eyes locked together, and I feel weirdly shy under his gaze, dropping eye contact after a few moments. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused at my nerves.

Come on, bitch, pull yourself together. Don’t let Mason Mount get you flustered. ‘Want a jelly bean?’ he asks and I nod, Mason opening the packet and getting one out. I stick my tongue out, and he falters for a moment, victory filling me. He puts the jelly bean on my tongue, eyes on mine, and I take the jelly bean into my mouth, chewing it with a small smile, the boy rolling his eyes.

We go on like that while Christie does my nails, Mason feeding me jelly beans (whilst eating more than double the amount I do) and holding up my drink for me to have a sip every couple minutes, his phone in his hand as he scrolls distractedly through tiktok. We start an unspoken game, trying to get each flustered and seeing who can hold eye contact longer. I hate to admit it, but he’s definitely winning, and it really pisses me off.

Yes, I’m a virgin, but I still own and use my sexuality – I might know nothing about the actual act of sex but I know how to make a guy want it. Before I was with Mason, I’d get a kick out of leading on these rich and famous guys only to leave them hanging. Not over a long time, of course. Just for a couple hours at parties or in the club. There’s something so fun about letting a guy think he’s gonna get to take you home but leaving with your girls instead. It’s always the same, with prolonged eye contact, suggestive actions (putting on lipgloss or sipping a drink with puckered lips through a straw), and light physical contact. But Mason’s never fallen prey to any of that – he’s never tried it on with me.

I suppose it’s a good thing, because he’s really fucking annoying and I don’t want to sleep with him. We’re at a mutual agreement that this is nothing more than a fake relationship and all we have to do is tolerate each other, so it’d ruin that if either of us ever tried to make it something more. Not that either of us want to, of course. We literally can’t stand each other.

‘Shall I add his initials?’ Christie asks, breaking me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a moment to register her question. In that moment, Mason answers for me. ‘Yeah, add my initials,’ he grins, and I barely stop myself from shooting him a dirty look. ‘Shall I do it on your ring finger?’ she asks, and I cringe internally. I’m about to get the initials of a guy who doesn’t see me romantically painted on my ring finger nail. The finger I’m supposed to save for an engagement ring.

‘Um… do his initials on the right ring finger, and his number on the left ring finger. 19,’ I say – it doesn’t make much of a difference but it feels better than the other option. The base colour of my nails is nude, and the hearts are white and pink. Christie uses white to paint his number onto the pink heart on my left ring fingernail, and pink to paint his initials onto the white heart on my right ring fingernail. I hate to admit it but it looks really cute, and I get a warm feeling in my chest at having a boys’ initials on my nails, even if they are Mason’s.

‘Kimmy! Come and get some photos of her nails,’ Christie says, the social media girl rushing over with her phone. She has me putting my hands in different positions and angles, finally satisfied after five minutes of pictures and videos. Mason’s waiting for me beside the door with my bag and my drink in his hands, and I rush over, quickly saying goodbye to the other technicians.

‘£120, like usual?’ I ask Christie as I take my drink from Mason, the boy still holding my bag, and Christie shakes her head. ‘Your boyfriend paid already,’ she says before bidding me goodbye and disappearing off into the back. ‘You shouldn’t have p-’ ‘It’s fine. I made you get my initials so it’s only right,’ he says offhandedly, and I raise an eyebrow, a small smile on my lips. ‘It’s okay if you wanted to pay for them. You can just admit it,’ I joke, and he rolls his eyes.

‘It’s your Valentine’s present,’ he says, my jaw dropping. ‘You’d better be joking,’ I say threateningly, a small grin on his face. ‘I’m joking. I’ve already got your gifts, babe,’ he says easily, taking my hand into his, and I hear lots of ‘aww’s from the girls behind me. ‘Good,’ I reply sternly, letting him lead me out into the corridor, walking leisurely past the shops.

‘We actually do need to plan something for Valentine’s though,’ I say quietly once we’re out of earshot of anyone else, and he remains silent. ‘I know you’d rather not spend a random Tuesday night with me but it looks suspicious if we don’t do anything. And if we don’t plan something, our agents will, and their plans are always boring,’ I continue, met with even more silence. ‘Let’s not do the usual dinner and drinks. We could do an activity instead! Bowling is always cute. Or mini golf, even though I’m shit at it. Maybe even-’ ‘y/n,’ Mason cuts me off, hesitating to continue speaking before he sighs.

‘I’ve already planned Valentine’s,’ he admits, and I stare at him blankly for a long few moments. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve made plans for us already,’ he says, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask, and he sighs again. ‘I thought I’d surprise you. I heard you talking with Steph about how you’ve never done anything for Valentine’s with a boy, and I know you don’t want to waste all your firsts on a fake boyfriend, but we have to do something on Valentine’s anyway so I thought I’d make it special for you,’ he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I feel myself melting inside. I think I might even cry.

‘That’s… really nice. Thanks, Mase,’ I say softly, and he just waves off my gratitude, clearly feeling awkward. ‘It’s alright. It was about time I planned a date anyway, so I thought I’d show you how it’s done,’ he jokes, and I shove him lightly, laughing. ‘The dates I plan are always fun!’ ‘Oh, yeah, this date has been really fun,’ he says drily, and I feel a bit sheepish at that. I wanted to piss him off but now I feel guilty.

‘Let’s just go then,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s fine. Do your shopping first.’ ‘It can wait. There’s nothing urgent I need to get,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Where are we gonna go instead?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. ‘Back to mine,’ I say, a smirk finding his lips.

‘Say less.’ ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ I warn, the boy chuckling. ‘What are we gonna do at yours then?’ ‘Valentine’s baking!’ I say excitedly, the boy staring at me deadpan. ‘Baking?’ ‘Yes. You’re always eating my baking so now’s your chance to make up for it and do some baking of your own.’ ‘I’m always eating your baking because that’s what you’re supposed to do with it. Not just let it sit in a jar on your counter until it goes off,’ he says pointedly, and I roll my eyes.

‘Okay, fair point. But speaking of baking going off, those cookies are on their way out so they need replacing,’ I smile, and he just grumbles under his breath. ‘Fine, we’ll go back to your house and do baking, but you owe me a homecooked meal afterwards,’ he bargains. ‘Deal. What do you wanna eat?’ ‘You,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. ‘Other than me,’ I say, and he considers it for a second. ‘Tacos.’ ‘So me and tacos for dinner?’ I ask amusedly, and he laughs, pulling me into his arms. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘Oh, my feet are killing me,’ I sigh as we walk through my front door, Mason letting go of my hand so I can sit on the bottom step of my staircase. ‘Sorry. I should’ve told you to wear more sensible footwear,’ Mason says as he locks the door after himself, and I shake my head. ‘It’s fine. I would’ve worn these anyway. They’re my V-Day boots!’ I say happily, clicking my heels together.

After finding out I had surprise plans for Valentine’s Day, I bought a new pair of boots for the occasion. I already had a pink mini dress in the exact same shade as the hearts on these white boots, and I was sold the second I saw that the heels are heart-shaped. Mason said it was a bit morbid that every step I took was stamping on hearts, but I thought it was cute.

We’ve been bickering and having stupid arguments all day but, overall, I’ve really enjoyed spending Valentine’s Day with him. He’s been irritating as usual, but he’s also been sweet and romantic as well, which was definitely surprising. I didn’t say anything about it though, because we’re in a good patch at the moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

After he paid for my Valentine’s nails the other day, we come back and baked some Valentine’s cupcakes and cookies. We filmed a vlog for my YouTube channel and Tiktok videos for both of our accounts, like we always do when we do stuff like this. The difference this time was the lack of acting – our affection, flirting and joking together was all real. We bickered, like we always do, but it was light-hearted, and he kept resolving it with stuffing chocolate in my mouth or pulling me into warm hugs.

After baking, I cooked chicken tacos and we sat together at the kitchen island to eat. We chatted idly as we ate, and he actually complimented my cooking. When he got a call from his parents saying they were on their way to his house, the night ended abruptly and, despite my disappointment, I was relieved. I’d felt myself starting to look at him differently and that scared the shit out of me, so I was happy to send him on his way with a box of cupcakes and cookies for his family.

We didn’t speak again after then until last night, when he messaged telling me to be ready for 10am. He showed up on time, with gifts too! I proudly put the bouquet of red and white roses into a vase as he watched with a satisfied grin, making sure to put the single pink rose in the middle. He also insisted on me opening the box of chocolates so I could try one, and it was the best chocolate I’ve ever had. I googled the brand, To-ak, and I couldn’t believe my eyes at the price. He spent £300 on a box of chocolates for me.

We started the day with breakfast at my favourite brunch spot in The Vault. We got one avo-and-egg on toast and one plate of berry pancakes, sharing both dishes like a real couple. Then he drove us into the city for bowling and mini golf – he said he wanted to burst out laughing when I mentioned both of those things at The Vault last week. He tried his best to coach me at both activities (and I had no complaints at his body pressed up behind mine as he guided my movements and held my hands) but he still managed to beat me at both. I didn’t mind though – I would’ve gotten the ick if my athletic fake boyfriend lost to me at bowling and mini golf.

Then we went for Afternoon Tea on Park Lane followed by watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the West End. Mason has no interest in theatre but he knows I love it so he sucked it up, and even bought us box tickets so we had a perfect view of the stage. I didn’t even realise I was starting to get cold until I’d shivered, and Mason took his jacket off to lay it across my lap before moving closer to me, wrapping an arm around me to keep me warm.

After the theatre, he took me to dinner at Le Gavroche, an expensive French restaurant. I was too fussy to eat most of the food but I was still more than happy to be there, sitting opposite a pretty boy in a fancy restaurant, flirting over champagne and French cheese. And he got me McDonald’s nuggets on the way home so I wouldn’t complain about being hungry.

Now we’re back at mine. I invited him in, without any reason as to why, but he accepted. We’ve both been so… lovey-dovey and cute today. It’s so weird actually getting along with him but it feels right at the same time, which is scary. Multiple times today, I’ve had to remind myself that our relationship is fake, feeling a jolt at the thought.

‘Who buys new shoes for Valentine’s Day?’ he asks amusedly. ‘Bad bitches,’ I say proudly before trying to take them off. With them being brand new, the zips are very stiff, and I’m holding them at a stupid angle because of my long nails. ‘Let me help,’ Mason laughs after a few seconds of watching me struggle, dropping to one knee and lifting his hands to the top of my left zip. His skin brushes against mine, the contact at my inner thigh making me shiver, and his eyes remain locked with mine as he undoes the zip, carefully pulling the boot off my foot and leaving me in my thigh high socks. He does the same with the other, the completely innocent act making my stomach clench.

He stands up, holding out a hand to help me up, and he keeps my hand in his as he leads me to the kitchen. ‘Don’t tell me you’re hungry,’ I tease, getting a look of feigned offence in response. He ate every last crumb on both of our plates and shared my nuggets with me in the car – the boy can eat but I’ll be shocked if he has any more room.

‘I’m thirsty,’ he says, letting go of my hand to get a glass out of the cupboard, about to pour himself some water. ‘Let’s have some wine,’ I say suddenly, Mason raising an amused eyebrow at me. ‘I have to drive home, and I’ve already at the limit with that champagne,’ he reminds me. ‘You can stay the night. I have a couple guest bedrooms you can choose from,’ I say quietly, his gaze warm on my skin as his grin grows.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, and I nod, struggling to keep eye contact with him, the butterflies in my stomach going wild. I wasn’t even propositioning him – I just thought it’d be nice to finish the day with late night chats over a glass of wine, not a quiet and empty house. ‘Okay, I’ll have some wine.’ ‘Which one do you want?’ I ask, opening my wine cupboard and moving aside to show him. ‘I want the one in the living room,’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Living room?’ ‘Yeah. There’s a bottle of wine in your living room,’ he repeats, and I frown. ‘What? Where?’ I ask, heading towards the living room.

I gasp when I spot the presents on the coffee table, looking back at Mason who grins at me. ‘You didn’t think I just got you flowers and chocolate, did you?’ he asks, looking very proud of himself, and I rush into the living room excitedly, wanting to see my gifts. I take a couple photos first, knowing I’ll want to remember this moment, and he just watches on with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Which one shall I open first?’ I ask, and he points to the bottle bag amusedly, both of us already knowing what it is after what he said.

I get through the gifts pretty quickly in my excitement, tearing the co-ordinated pink wrapping paper and being careful not to drop the confetti and the glitter in each gift bag on the floor. Every single gift is so me; the rosé wine, the pink crystal butterfly hairclips, the signed Summer Walker vinyls, the Huda Beauty pink eyeshadow palette, the pink lego flowers set and the dusty pink knee-high boots with my name printed on the soles. I never realised he knew me so well, but every single gift is perfect. The boots are even my size!

‘One left,’ he says, handing me a pink velvet jewellery box, and my eyes fill with tears before I even open it. ‘y/n, don’t cry!’ he exclaims, alarmed, and I blink back the tears quickly, opening the box with shaking hands. I gasp at the set inside, a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide. ‘It’s called pink sapphire, which I didn’t even know was a thing but, apparently, it is. It’s also custom so I can’t really return it, but I’ll just, like, give it to a charity auction or something if you don’t like it,’ he says, obviously nervous, and I shake my head.

‘I love it, Mason. It’s so beautiful,’ I whisper, already enamoured with the pink sapphire stones set into the pendant on the silver necklace, the silver tennis bracelet and the silver hoops. ‘That’s good then,’ he says, actually letting out a sigh of relief before he helps me put it all on, watching with an affectionate smile as I admire myself in my front camera.

‘This is all too much, Mason. It must have cost you a bomb,’ I say, and he waves off my concerns. ‘It’s fine. I fucked up your birthday so this is the least I could do,’ he says lightly, trying to sound casual, and I try not to laugh at the reminder of the half-dead bouquet of flowers and box of Thorntons chocolates he got for my birthday (I’m not one to sneer at Thorntons – chocolate is chocolate – but it was a Christmas box that was out of date by three years).

‘Well, I got you something too, but don’t get your hopes up too much. They’re not as good as what you’ve got me,’ I warn him, getting up and getting the gift box I hid in the corner of the room, a big grin on his face. Despite my warning, I already know he’s gonna love everything I’ve got him – I’m a very good gift buyer and I’ve been planning this for a while. I may or may not have also put in minimal effort for his birthday and felt bad about it, so I’m trying to make up for it with this.

He looks very happy with the black tracksuit I got from some streetwear brand that him and his friends are all obsessed with, and he’s even happier with the custom silver chain I got from one of my jeweller friends. But his favourite is the blue Van Cleef bracelet, even before he spots the letters of his name engraved on the inside of each clover.

‘You’re sweet,’ he grins, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head, a warm feeling flooding through my body, my heart singing. ‘I’ll get some glasses for the wine,’ I say, rushing back into the kitchen and taking a few seconds to compose myself, staring at my reflection in the fridge.

I’m supposed to hate Mason, or strongly dislike him anyway. But we’ve been getting along, and maybe I don’t dislike him after having such a romantic day with him. Maybe I actually like him a little bit, even more after getting all those thoughtful gifts from him. And maybe he likes me as well. He knows me well, at least, and cared enough to plan a day he knew I’d love and buy me perfect gifts. And now we’re about to sit alone in my living room, drinking rosé wine late at night. This probably isn’t a good idea, but the desire pulsing through my body pushes the hesitation out of my mind.

I bring two wine glasses back into the living room, Mason popping the bottle open and pouring us two half glasses. We clink our glasses together and both take a sip before Mason lifts my legs across his lap, both of us comfortable on the sofa. I sip on my wine as Mason scrolls through Netflix to find something for us to watch, not able to settle on anything. I’m not at all helpful either – I’d much rather sit here and talk to him so I just keep making noncommittal noises when he asks what I want to watch.

‘I’ll put music on instead,’ he says, opening Spotify and clicking on My Mix, the playlist starting with Summer Walker. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he chuckles, putting down the remote and finishing off his wine. ‘Aren’t you gonna complain and try to turn it off like usual?’ I ask, and he shrugs with a rueful smile. ‘Maybe her music’s growing on me,’ he admits, and I gasp excitedly. ‘Good! I’ll send you recommendations, and then you can start listening to SZA and Jhene after,’ I say, knowing it’ll annoy him if I make a big deal out of this, and he groans with a roll of his eyes, making me laugh.

‘I’m joking.’ ‘I know, but it’s even more annoying because I’ve already got SZA and Jhene on my Spotify because of you. All of your stuff is growing on me. RnB, The Vault, 90s romcoms, wine and champagne. I even like the colour pink now,’ he says lightly, one finger gently running across the thin strap of my dress, my shoulder tingling in the wake of his touch.

‘I’ve started liking your stuff too. I go to your football matches, and I actually enjoy watching them. I’ve started going to the weird bars you like, full of white people who think they’re cool. I listen to your favourite American rappers. And maybe the colour blue isn’t so bad,’ I say quietly, a little grin on his face.

‘It’s not a surprise, though. We’ve been seeing each other at least once a week since this relationship started nearly 11 months ago. That’s a lot of time to spend with someone. We were bound to rub off on each other,’ he says, and I nod in agreement. As much as we argue and haven’t been getting along for the majority of this relationship, our lives are so intertwined now. It feels wrong to say our relationship’s fake because we behave exactly like a couple. It’s more accurate to say it was a relationship without the feelings, but maybe that’s not even true anymore.

‘I never would’ve guessed you’d like romcoms though. Which ones are your favourites?’ I ask, and he thinks for a moment. ‘I like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’ ‘That’s only because you think Kate Hudson’s fit.’ ‘Says you, Matthew McConaughey’s biggest fan,’ he says pointedly, and I remain silent, knowing he’s right. ‘And I like 10 Things I Hate About You as well. But I think Clueless is my favourite,’ he grins, my heart melting. I’m the personification of the film Clueless, and we both know it.

‘Clueless, really? What do you like about Clueless?’ ‘I like Cher. She’s cute, stylish, funny, pretty, kind-hearted, and completely oblivious,’ he lists off, brushing my hair back with his hand, my heart fluttering. ‘Oblivious?’ ‘Well, maybe clueless is a better word,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes at the bad joke.

‘How is she clueless?’ ‘She’s so wrapped up in her own little world that those pretty brown eyes of hers can’t see how people feel about her,’ he says softly, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. ‘Cher’s eyes aren’t brown.’ ‘I’m not talking about Cher anymore, babe,’ he murmurs, our eyes locked together, my entire body alight with nerves. ‘What am I not seeing?’ I ask, his lips quirking up at the question. ‘You really can’t see how I feel about you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, heart hammering in my chest.

‘I tried my best not to feel any way about you, because I know you want a big romantic love-at-first-sight relationship and I didn’t wanna try and steal that away from you, but I can’t pretend anymore. Not after the nail shop last week. Sitting with a girl while she’s getting her nails done should be the most boring thing in the world, but I’d spend every day of my life feeding you jelly beans and macchiatos, and watching you smile at pink hearts on your nails. And I can’t even describe the feeling of seeing my initials and my number on your nails, your ring fingers. All I could think was that I want to put more than my number on this finger,’ he admits in a low voice, lifting my hand and touching my finger where I’d wear an engagement or wedding ring.

‘But I thought you hated me,’ I whisper, so overwhelmed by a trillion different emotions, and he lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at my hand in his. ‘I’ve never hated you, y/n. It was childish of me, I know, but we fell out at the start because you told me I couldn’t kiss you or touch you. If I hated you, why would I have a problem with that?’ he asks, and I could slap myself for not even thinking about that.

‘I thought you were just annoyed that you wouldn’t be able to kiss or touch anyone the whole time we’re together.’ ‘y/n, I’m not a sex addict or something. I can go without physical contact. It’s been difficult being around you so much and not being able to release my frustrations properly, but still,’ he says amusedly, and I feel my body warm up. With the combination of the wine and what he’s saying, I’ll end up letting him have his way with me tonight.

‘So you like me?’ I ask, and he laughs again. ‘That’s putting it a bit simply but, yeah. I do. I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,’ he says simply, complete honesty in his eyes, and I’m silent for a long few moments, mind working at a million miles an hour. ‘If you like me back, this would be a really good time to say that,’ he says amusedly, and I let out a little laugh.

‘I think I like you too.’ ‘You think?’ ‘I don’t… these feelings are really unfamiliar to me. I’ve only ever had schoolgirl crushes on guys. I’ve never felt this way before. I get this tight feeling in my chest when I look at you. I like being around you, even when we’re arguing. I love that people know me as your girlfriend, and I love that girls can look at you but they know they can’t have you because you’re my boyfriend. I think you’re annoying and cocky but I like that you’re annoying and cocky,’ I say, my admission making him laugh.

‘That probably means you like me.’ ‘Yeah, but then… I like wearing your hoodies and jackets because they smell like you, and I get this funny feeling in my stomach at your scent. I pretend to get annoyed at your dirty jokes but I get butterflies whenever you say them. I always wear tight and tiny outfits around you, even when it’s freezing, because I want you to want me. And I can’t think straight when I watch you play football and you’re all angry and sweaty. So I don’t think saying that I like you really covers how I feel,’ I breathe out, his eyes darkening, lips parted in surprise.

‘That’s… fuck. How can you be hot and cute at the same time?’ he asks faintly, and he moves the hand that isn’t holding mine to rest on my bare thigh, between the top of my sock and the bottom of my mini dress. ‘Hot and cute?’ ‘Babe, you just admitted you’re sexually attracted to me in the most innocent way possible,’ he chuckles, fingers tracing patterns across my skin, the area between my legs throbbing with need.

‘Because I don’t… I’ve obviously been attracted to people before but never like this. Never enough to want to act on it,’ I say, the realisation dawning on us both a moment later. ‘You wanna act on it?’ he asks with a little grin, tips of his fingers toying with the hem of my dress. ‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just scary,’ I whisper, and he laughs softly.

‘You don’t have to be scared. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do or don’t feel comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything at all. I don’t expect us to go upstairs to your room now that we’ve had this conversation. It’s a big step,’ he says gently, making me want him even more.

‘What if I did want to go upstairs to my room though?’ I ask, biting down on one of my nails nervously, his eyes zoning in on my lips. ‘You know I wouldn’t say no.’ ‘Yeah, but, like… tell me what you’d do,’ I prompt, a smile playing at his lips.

‘I’d take it slow. I’d kiss you first, for as long as possible because I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime. Then I’d undress you and kiss all over this perfect body. And then I’d put my fingers in you, nice and gentle so it doesn’t hurt, and I’d make it feel so good for you, babe. I’d stretch you out slow so I can hear all your pretty noises, and then I’d eat you out until you cum on my tongue. And then I’d fill you up with my cock bit by bit and I’d fuck you slow, babe. Have you moaning my name in my ear when you cum around me.’

By the end of his perfectly-woven story, my mind is completely blank and my underwear is soaked. It’s pretty much exactly what I’ve always wanted my first time to be like – the only thing missing from my fantasy is a view from the most expensive room at The Shard after a romantic dinner, but I wouldn’t trade my evening with Mason for that.

‘Okay,’ I whisper, Mason chuckling softly. ‘Yeah? Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod nervously, my stomach doing flips. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he says, hand rubbing my leg soothingly, and I nod, trying to calm myself down. ‘Let me kiss you first,’ he murmurs, my heart skipping a beat. What if I’m a horrendous kisser and he gets the ick? Or what if I accidently bite him? Does my breath smell?

‘y/n, relax. It’s just a kiss, babe. You have kissed someone before, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, his eyes widening in shock. ‘So I’m about to be your first kiss as well?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘That’s a lot of pressure, you know,’ he says with a small smile, lifting a hand to a lock of my hair, twirling it around his fingers. ‘It’s not. You could be a terrible kisser and I wouldn’t even know,’ I say, the boy laughing gently.

‘You’d be able to tell. Bad kissers are obvious.’ ‘And you’ve had your fair share of those?’ I ask, his gaze softening at the mild jealousy in my tone. The situation is obvious to both of us – he’s about to be my first everything, and I’m about to be just another in a long list for him. ‘I wouldn’t say fair share. A couple. But don’t think about them. I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about you only, babe,’ he whispers, our eyes locked together, and that’s all the reassurance I need.

‘Can I kiss you, y/n?’ he asks softly, and I nod, a small smile on his face. He begins to lean in, and my eyes flutter shut, my heart hammering in my chest as his lips gently brush against mine. He pulls back momentarily, as though he’s waiting to see if I’m still okay with it, and I feel myself leaning towards him, Mason letting out a chuckle as our lips meet again.

He slides his arms around me, lifting me up into his lap so he can pull me closer, his mouth pressing harder on mine, and I soften against him when he parts my lips with his.

It’s a tame and sweet kiss, one that makes the butterflies in my stomach melt into a puddle of want. His hands stay on my back, his lips gentle against mine, but I want more, need more from him. I adjust myself slightly on his lap, the movement making his breath catch in his throat, and the realisation that he’s getting hard beneath me only makes me even more desperate.

We break apart after a few moments, none of the panting and dark eyes I’d expect after a kiss, and I’m almost disappointed. I know he’s trying to be gentlemanly for my first time, but I don’t want him to be a gentleman now. I want him to do whatever he wants to me. I want him to enjoy this too.

‘Was that okay?’ he asks, and I nod after a split second of hesitation. He notices it, eyebrows furrowing in concern. ‘No, it wasn’t. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?’ he asks, and I shake my head, feeling embarrassed about being so desperate for him. ‘The last thing I want you to do is stop,’ I say quietly, the realisation on his face quickly followed by dark amusement.

‘What do you want me to do then, y/n?’ he grins, and I pout at him, hitting his chest lightly. ‘Don’t make me say it,’ I complain, the boy laughing. ‘How will I know if you don’t say it?’ ‘Mason.’ ‘y/n. You have to communicate with me, baby,’ he murmurs, eyes dark and big as he looks at me, and I let out a little sigh.

‘I want more. I don’t want you to hold back,’ I admit, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘It’s your first time.’ ‘I know, but I want you to enjoy this as well.’ ‘I enjoy anything with you, babe,’ he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Don’t lie. That kiss was cute for a first kiss, but it must have been boring for you. I don’t want to bore you, Mase.’ ‘You don’t bore me. Babe, we’ve got all night for not-boring kisses. I just wanted your first one to be the perfect kiss that you probably always dreamed about,’ he says, a smile finding my face at that. He’s cute.

‘I don’t… how do I say this?’ I mutter, so embarrassed at the thought of what I’m about to admit, and he just waits patiently for me to speak. ‘I always dreamed of romance, yes. But I dreamed of it for dates and my wedding and holidays with my boyfriend. It was never something I dreamed about in the bedroom,’ I say quietly, and he tilts his head questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The thought of romantic sex doesn’t…�� I trail off, the look in his eyes like he’s just stumbled across gold.

‘y/n, that’s… are you saying you’re into other things?’ he asks quietly, in complete shock, and I nod, feeling mortified at this conversation. ‘Like what?’ ‘Don’t make me say it, Mase,’ I whine, the boy laughing. ‘No, this is not what I expected from you at all. You have to say it otherwise I won’t believe it.’ ‘No, Mason. I can’t say it,’ I say firmly, knowing I’ll die of humiliation if he makes me say this out loud.

‘Fine, okay. I’ll ask then. Do you want it rough, y/n? Want me to use you to make myself feel good? Want me to kiss you and touch you and fuck you like a slut?’ he asks with a dark grin, my mind entering overdrive, my lack of response giving him the answer he was expecting. ‘My baby’s not so innocent after all then, is she?’ he asks lowly, hands tightening on my waist, pressing me down onto his lap. The friction makes me let out a soft sigh, his eyes darkening at the sound.

‘Fuck. This is… probably not a good idea. I can’t be rough with you for your first time. I don’t wanna hurt you.’ ‘You won’t. You’ll know better than I will what I can and can’t handle,’ I say quietly, and his lips quirk up amusedly. ‘You’ll be able to handle anything I give you, won’t you, baby?’ he murmurs, looking satisfied at the way I take a deep breath to pull myself together, my nod making him grin wider.

‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Good. Don’t want to have to punish you, do we, babe?’ he asks, and I feel my heartrate speed up at the mention of punishment. ‘You want to be punished? Such a dirty girl, y/n. Want me to spread you over my lap and slap your perfect ass until you’re crying?’ he asks lowly, and I struggle to hold his gaze, the thought of it making my core ache.

‘Mase, please.’ ‘Please what, babe?’ he asks, and I don’t even really know what I’m asking for. ‘Kiss me again,’ I ask, one of his hands snaking up to the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to him so our lips can meet again.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, the kiss making my mind focus on nothing but him. I never could’ve dreamed that kissing would feel this good, his lips enveloping my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. It’s passionate and deep and messy, and all I can’t think straight with his scent filling my senses, his soft hair between my fingers, and his hands sliding up and down my back.

His hands tighten at my waist again, guiding me to move forward on his lap, the movement making me let out a whimper against his lips. That must be his final straw because he breaks apart, both of us out of breath this time.

‘Am I a bad kisser?’ I ask, the boy laughing. ‘No, y/n. You’re perfect,’ he smiles, my heart fluttering. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I just need to grab something from my car,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘You’re not running away, are you?’ I ask suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘I’d have to either be gay or stupid if I decided to leave now,’ he says lightly, making me giggle. ‘I have condoms in my car. Unless you’ve got some?’ he asks, the situation suddenly feeling very real, my body humming with arousal.

‘I don’t. Do we need them though? I’m on birth control,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s not worth the risk. You’d probably be put off for life if you get pregnant from your first time,’ he says drily, making me laugh. ‘It’ll be fine.’ ‘Don’t tempt me, y/n. Seriously,’ he says warningly, and I gaze at him with big innocent eyes. ‘I wanna feel you though.’ ‘You will feel me, babe. You can’t even notice the condom,’ he says, trying to sound firm but I can tell he’s being swayed.

‘Fine, okay,’ I give in, the boy breathing a sigh of relief at me not trying to persuade him anymore. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I’ll be up in a minute,’ he says as I get off him, the boy following me out of the room. He slaps my ass lightly as I take the first step, and I can’t help but giggle to myself as I head upstairs.

I enter my bedroom, putting on some music through my speaker before tidying away all the stuff I left out while I was getting ready earlier. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs as I’m putting my straighteners away in my bathroom drawer, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement, the latter just about outweighing the former.

I step back into the bedroom to see him entering the room too, a smile on his face when he meets my eyes. ‘Are you still sure you wanna do this?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. Yes, this is scary, but I’m ready. I don’t want my first time to be with anyone but him. ‘Come here then,’ he grins, holding out a hand to me, and I cross the room to take it, letting him pull me against him.

Our lips meet in another pulse-racing kiss, his hands trailing all over my body as I grip onto his strong shoulders before snaking my hands up to tangle my fingers into his hair. My skin tingles in the wake of his touch, his needy hands squeezing my ass, pressing into my waist, sliding across my back, running through my hair.

His tongue slides across mine as he slips his fingers beneath the hem of my dress, slow on their journey up my legs, bringing my dress up with them. ‘Can I take this off you?’ he asks against my lips, and I hum out my permission. He doesn’t waste any more time, his fingers slipping the straps off my shoulders and pushing the material down my body, the dress landing in a pool at my feet.

He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the bed, putting me down gently. He looks down at me, pupils impossibly wide and dark as they trawl over my body, clad in just a lacy pink bra, matching pants and my thigh high white socks with little pink bows on them. I take the opportunity to admire him too. He’s in a pair of loose jeans and a soft blue jumper, a silver chain tucked into it. His hair’s all fluffy from me running my hands through it, and he looks more handsome than he’s ever looked in his life.

‘You’re so beautiful, y/n,’ he murmurs, climbing over me and capturing my lips in another kiss. He breaks the kiss quickly though, moving to press kisses along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches my collarbone, I realise he’s kissing all over my body like he said he was going to. ‘Can I?’ he asks, hands slipping beneath my back, fingers on the clasp on my bra, and I nod. He expertly pops the clasp open, helping pull the straps down my arms.

‘I’ve always loved your boobs,’ he admits, my laugh cut off by a gasp when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, the other breast in his hand, fingers roughly gripping the flesh. He switches to the other nipple, rolling the first between his fingers so as not to neglect it, and I feel my back arch at the sudden pleasurable shocks.

‘Does that feel good?’ he asks, words muffled by how they’re spoken around my nipple. ‘Mmm, so good,’ I whimper as he gropes and sucks on my boobs like a teen boy. I’d laugh if my mind wasn’t distracted with the intense pleasure.

He continues kissing down my stomach and, to my surprise, he leaves my pants on and skips the area entirely, kissing my thighs until he reaches the tops of my socks. ‘These fucking socks,’ he murmurs, pulling one of them away from my leg before letting go of it, the material slapping back against my skin. ‘You like them?’ ‘I fucking love them, baby. You look like such a cute little slut in them,’ he grins as he pushes my legs apart. I expect his eyes to focus in on my clothed core but he keeps his eyes on mine, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, little tingles running through me at the feeling of his lips somewhere so intimate.

‘Turn over for me, babe,’ he prompts and I do as he says, lying on my stomach. He moves my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck before moving down the line in the middle of my back. His journey to the dip just before my ass is slow, my heart suspended in anticipation. When he reaches my ass, he gently nips at one cheek before pressing soothing kisses in the same place, a blissful sigh escaping my lips.

The sound seems to knock him out a reverie, the boy turning me onto my back and hovering over me to kiss me again. He keeps himself elevated leaning on one forearm, the other hand pressing into the curve of my waist. I let my hands rest on either side of his face, his beard soft against my skin as our lips move in sync, tongues clashing messily. Nothing about this kiss meets the expectations for a first time, but it’s exactly what I want.

He turns us over, my body weight resting on top of his, and his hands instantly slide down to my ass, gripping it tightly before slapping it, the sound loud in the room. I giggle into our kiss, his lips curling up at the sound as he brings his hands up my body, a shiver running through me at the feeling of his fingers gliding across my bare skin.

I break apart from him after a moment, sitting just below his stomach with my legs straddling him. He looks up at me in awe, trying his best not to stare at my bare chest right in front of him. I slip my fingers beneath his jumper, feeling his warm skin, and he sits up so I can take it off him, bringing up the t-shirt underneath with it, leaving his top half bare. I’ve seen him shirtless a couple times but never so close like this, and I let my hands explore his torso, up and down over the contours of his muscles.

‘My girls would kill me if they knew we were doing this,’ I admit distractedly, eyes focused on his abs. ‘Why? Because they hate me?’ he asks, leaning back on his elbows with a cocky grin, and I let out a little laugh. ‘Why do you get such a kick out of the fact my friends hate you?’ ‘Because they’re the closest people to you, and they’re probably always telling you that I’m not shit and you need to get your agent to end the relationship, but look at us,’ he says proudly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Well, that’s not the only reason they’d kill me.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘They’re always telling me I should sell my virginity,’ I tell him, tracing my nails over the lines of his abs. ‘Sell it? You’re not a prostitute.’ ‘I know, but I could get a good few million for it from some rich middle-aged business man,’ I say, and he just raises an eyebrow.

‘We could make a few million other ways,’ he murmurs, hands resting on my waist. ‘How?’ ‘We could make a porno,’ he grins, my core pulsing at the thought. ‘A porno?’ ‘Yeah. Your pretty face and pretty body and pretty noises in a sextape would make us more than a few millions. And I bet your pretty tits, pretty ass and pretty pussy would make us billions, baby,’ he smirks, pulling me close for another kiss, arousal flooding through my body. He hasn’t even seen me fully naked yet but he’s so firm about the attractiveness of my body – it definitely gives me a confidence boost.

The aching between my legs is too much, and I find myself pressing down onto him to relieve it. He tenses beneath me, clearly just as worked up as me with the way he grips onto my hips, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us breathless. Gentle waves of pleasure roll through my body, my lips letting out quiet sighs against his mouth.

‘Does that feel good, babe?’ he asks, breaking away from me and kissing along my jaw. I let out an ‘mmm’ sound which he takes as an answer, lips lifting up into a grin against my skin before he nips at it, the pleasurable pain making me whimper. ‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mumbles into my neck, still rocking my body against his.

‘Can I ask you something? A personal question?’ he asks, and I sit up after a moment, feeling nervous as I nod. ‘What have you actually done? Sexually? Because I know you’re a virgin but I’d assumed that you’d kissed someone before, so maybe my assumptions are all wrong,’ he says, and a small smile finds my lips at the question.

‘I haven’t done anything. You’re the first person to kiss me and touch me and see me like this,’ I say, a tiny smirk on his face. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What about what you’ve done? Have you ever touched yourself, babe?’ he asks, and I avoid his gaze, feeling a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest. ‘I tried, once.’ ‘Why only once?’ ‘It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like anything, really. So I just never tried again,’ I admit, the boy grinning.

‘So you’ve never had an orgasm before?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Good. I’ll make your first one amazing, babe, I promise,’ he murmurs, pulling me down for a brief kiss before lifting me off him. He gets up off the bed, about to take his jeans off, but I grab his hands to stop him.

‘Let me,’ I breathe out, kneeling at the edge of the bed and looking up at him as I flick his jeans button open. He watches how I pull the zip down before bunching the material in my hands, slowly pulling it down his legs, leaving him in just his Calvin Kleins, his boner right in front of my face. My curiosity gets the best of me and I palm his cock through his boxers, the groan he lets out making my pants flood.

‘Fuck, baby, don’t. I’m gonna end up cumming in my fucking boxers like I’m the virgin here,’ he warns me, making me laugh. He moves my pillows aside, sitting at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he pats the bed between his legs, motioning for me to sit there. I crawl up the bed, sitting with my back against his front, my body enveloped by his.

I rest my hands on his thighs as he snakes his arms around me, his lips landing on my neck. I tilt my head to allow him better access, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his kisses, and his hands slide down my stomach and under my legs. He pulls my legs up to bend at the knees before slipping his hands between my thighs, parting them.

‘Shall we come up with a safe word for you, babe?’ he asks against my skin, and I nod. ‘Think of one,’ he prompts, and I wrack my brains. ‘Clueless?’ I suggest, the boy chuckling, his warm breath fanning across my bare shoulder. ‘So you’ll say ‘clueless’ if you need me to stop, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Good girl,’ he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

‘Make sure you tell me if you want me to stop,’ he reminds me as his hand slips down between my legs, fingertips gliding across my saturated underwear, making me shiver in his arms. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet, babe,’ he whispers, my breaths already becoming shaky with his finger gently running up and down my pants. He doesn’t waste much time before sliding his hand beneath my underwear, ending his teasing quickly which I’m grateful for. His fingers glide lightly across my wet folds and he quickly finds my clit, fingers pressing against the bud. I let out a high-pitched whimper, head falling back against him and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’ he asks as he rubs at my clit in slow circles, and I nod, exhilaration filling me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, my body humming with desire and pleasure, soft breaths escaping my lips.

He pulls my pants aside to exposing my glistening core to the cool air of the room, a shudder running through me. ‘Ready?’ he murmurs, and I nod. He slides a finger in slowly, my body reacting to the unfamiliar intrusion by clenching my walls around him, and he doesn’t move at all for a few moments, letting me getting used to the unusual feeling.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, pressing soothing kisses to my neck again, and I shake my head. ‘Just feels a bit weird,’ I reply, feeling his laugh against my skin. ‘You’re so tight, baby. Can’t wait to stretch you out, make you feel so good, y/n,’ he whispers, starting to slowly move his finger back and forth.  

The feeling soon starts to become pleasurable rather than weird, my walls not clenching as hard around his finger, and he takes advantage of it, sliding in another finger with the first.

‘Mase,’ I whisper softly. ‘Too much?’ he asks, and I give my body a few moments to get used to the feeling before shaking my head. ‘Such a good girl for me, babe,’ he murmurs, slowly thrusting his fingers into me, letting my body get accustomed to the burning stretch. My eyes fall shut, arousal gushing out onto his hand, causing faint wet sounds that make my skin heat up.

‘Feels good?’ ‘So good,’ I whimper softly, nails digging into his strong thighs as he curls his fingers inside me. The intense pleasure makes me clamp my thighs shut around his hand, the boy chuckling softly. ‘You can take it, babe, come on,’ he says soothingly as he pushes my legs apart again, hooking one leg with his own to keep it restrained from meeting the other.

‘You’re so sensitive, baby,’ he says amusedly, curling his fingers again and brushing a spot inside me that makes me whine pathetically. And then he begins to rub his palm against my clit with each movement of his hand, my head falling back onto his shoulder and my back arching, a quiet moan escaping my lips.

My body squirms between his legs, but he holds me firmly in place and keeps my legs apart, fingers continuing to thrust into me at a gradually quickening pace, whine after whimper slipping out from my lips as Mason whispers filth into my ear, making me lose my mind.

‘Look at you, babe. Grinding on my hand. Does it feel good, baby?’ he asks cockily and, sure enough, when I force myself to open my eyes, I see that I’m grinding against his fingers unconsciously, each movement of my hips resulting in his hand brushing my clit and sending a gentle wave of pleasure through me.

‘So good, Mase,’ I moan softly, the boy cursing at the sound, kissing and biting at my neck to leave marks, making my eyes flutter shut once again. ‘You sound so pretty for me, babe. So pretty. Gonna make you feel so good,’ he whispers against my skin, but the words barely register, my focus on the unfamiliar feeling of my stomach tightening.

‘Mase, I think I’m close,’ I say breathlessly, and he lets out a gentle laugh against my neck. ‘I know, babe, I can feel it.’ ‘I didn’t think… girls really cum from their first time,’ I say, words broken up with a moan prompted from his fingers spreading apart to open me up. ‘Girls don’t cum from their first time if the person they’re with is shit as sex. Lucky for you…’ he grins against my skin, thumb pressing onto my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘Fuck, I need to taste you,’ he says, sliding his fingers out of me and lifting them to his mouth, licking my arousal off his skin. ‘Mmm, you taste so good,’ he says appreciatively, satisfaction filling me. I’m glad to hear my vagina’s to his taste.

‘Lie back for me, babe,’ he says gently as he gets up, moving to lie on his stomach further down the bed. I rest my head on one of the pillows, looking down at him as his hands slide up my legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of my pants. ‘Can I?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slowly pulling the material down my legs before throwing it over his shoulder.

He pushes my legs apart slowly, revealing my soaking wet core to him, and his lips part in disbelief, eyes darkening as they focus between my legs. ‘Fuck. Such a pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me,’ he murmurs, collecting up my wetness with two fingers, the contact making me clench. He lifts his fingers to my lips this time, and I open my mouth, taking in his fingers and tasting myself on them.

‘Doesn’t your pussy taste so good, babe?’ he grins as I lick his fingers clean of my own arousal, and I nod, feeling even wetter at how dirty he is. ‘Could eat you all night,’ he says, wrapping his arms around my legs to lift them over his shoulders, pulling me close so his face is mere millimetres from my core.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he presses his tongue flat against my folds before swiping it upwards, a soft moan escaping my lips. He starts with slow and gentle licks across my folds, the steady stimulation making my brain fuzzy with pleasure, but he can’t keep himself controlled for very long. He pushes his finger into me again, my walls clamping down at the suddenness of it as I gasp, the slight pain soothed by his tongue flicking across my clit.

The sensation is so foreign but so good – he alternates between thrusting a finger into me whilst sucking at my clit, and poking his tongue between my folds whilst drawing slow circles on my clit with his thumb. I grip onto his locks, my high-pitched whimpers becoming more frequent, and I can’t decide whether I want to pull him closer or push him away, not sure whether it’s not enough or too much.

He decides for me, pulling me so close I’m surprised he can breathe. He begins practically making out with my pussy, the loud slurping sounds so obscene and crude that it only makes me wetter, my moans more and more desperate with every movement of his lips. His nose nuzzles against my clit as he eats me out, the irregular waves of pleasure sending my body into overdrive, the knot getting tighter and tighter as I squirm beneath him. He tries to keep me still with one forearm pressed down across my stomach, the other hand squeezing my boob and tugging gently at my nipple.

‘I’m think I’m gonna…’ I breathe out between moans, clenching sporadically as my body twitches, and I can feel him grinning against my folds. He replaces his mouth with two fingers pushing into me, thrusting into me fast and hard.

‘Gonna cum for me, y/n? It’s gonna feel so good, baby, just let go. Cum for me, babe,’ he murmurs softly, voice just about discernible over my loud moaning, and when he flicks his tongue across my clit before sucking it into his mouth as he curls his fingers inside me, I feel the knot in my stomach undo itself.

I cry out his name as my vision blurs, walls clenching around his fingers and holding them in place with an iron-like grip, thighs closing around his head. He works me through my orgasm with sucking gently on my clit, his free hand groping my boob, providing me with a gentle bliss in comparison to the intense pleasure burning low in my stomach.

When I feel myself coming back down from my high, I let out a sigh, body relaxing into the bed, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of me, a shiver racking through me. I just about manage to lift my head to watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, slipping the fingers covered in my cum between his lips, eyes closing as he lets out an appreciative groan.

‘You did so good for me, babe. Such a good girl, took it so well for me,’ he praises as he moves back up the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his body. I feel something very stiff poking into my hip, getting wet again already at how hard he is.

‘How did that feel?’ he asks with his lips pressed against my forehead. ‘Good.’ ‘Just good?’ he chuckles, and I laugh. ‘Yeah. I’d be exaggerating if I said anything else,’ I joke, and he tilts my head up so our eyes meet, his eyebrow raising. ‘Your moaning said otherwise, babe,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. He starts mocking my sounds and I hit him gently, hiding my head in his shoulder out of embarrassment.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It was sexy, y/n. Nothing’s ever turned me on more. You can feel the proof of that,’ he says drily, and I laugh softly, looking down at the tent in his Calvins. The thought that I caused that gives me a little thrill. I trace my finger down his v-line slowly, stopping when I reach the waistband of his underwear.

‘Can I?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he nods with a small grin. I slip my hand beneath the waistband, taking his cock into my hand, the thick and heavy weight so unfamiliar to me. I gently tug on it out of curiosity, watching his face for his reaction, and his eyes flutter shut, veins protruding from his neck. I move my hand up to the tip, feeling pre-cum leaking out, and I lift my hand to my mouth to taste it, the boy watching me with dark eyes.

‘Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, babe,’ he murmurs as the subtly salty taste coats my tongue. ‘Tastes bad, doesn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, and I laugh. ‘Not bad. Just… not good either,’ I admit, the boy chuckling. ‘I’ll start drinking pineapple juice every day, just for you,’ he promises with a grin, and I clutch my heart, pretending I’m honoured.

‘How long’s it been since you last had sex?’ I ask after a few seconds of silence, my fingertips tracing his muscles again. ‘Since before our relationship started. Probably a couple days before we signed the contract. I don’t remember exactly,’ he admits, and I nod, processing the information.

‘So you must be really worked up then,’ I say, looking up at him, and he laughs softly. ‘I’m worked up, but it’s because you’re lying next to me naked and looking at me with your big eyes,’ he says with a small smile. ‘Surely the amount of time has an effect as well?’ ‘Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve… been frustrated for 11 months,’ he says, and I realise belatedly what he means.

‘Oh. You mean you’ve masturbated?’ I ask, the boy laughing, probably at how innocent of a question it was. I should’ve known really – he wouldn’t have gone nearly a year without an orgasm. ‘Yes, babe, I have. Regularly. It’s good for you,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘That’s why you do it?’ ‘Well… no.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘The reason anyone masturbates. To keep myself… satisfied when I’m frustrated but can’t get any,’ he says, and I don’t reply for a few moments.

‘Do you watch porn when you do it?’ I ask out of curiosity, an amused smile on his lips at my innocent questioning. ‘Sometimes.’ ‘Why only sometimes?’ I ask, and he hesitates to speak. ‘My answer might make you uncomfortable.’ ‘It won’t,’ I say firmly, part of me already knowing what he’s going to say, desperate to hear it out loud.

‘The other times, I think of you. I’d go home hard almost every time I saw you, whether it was our good days or our bad days. Making you happy turns me on. Arguing with you turns me on. You smiling at me, rolling your eyes at me, saying my name nicely or not-so-nicely. All of it turns me on. Every single thing about you is so sexy to me, y/n, and just being in your presence makes me want you so much,’ he says quietly, my entire body burning with longing for him, satisfaction settling in my heart at hearing how much he’s attracted to me.

‘If you had to name one thing about me that turns you on the most, what would it be? Just for future reference,’ I say, unable to hold back my smile, and he laughs, the smile on his face so beautiful that my heart aches. ‘I can’t name one thing, babe. It’s everything about you. But… I do love seeing you in a Chelsea shirt with my name on the back,’ he admits, and I wait for him to elaborate.

‘I’m possessive, so I love seeing my name on you and knowing that any guy that looks at you will see it. They can look at how beautiful you are, but they can’t touch because you’re mine,’ he says, my butterflies going wild at hearing him claim me. ‘And I’d think of fucking you from behind while you’re wearing it and seeing my name on your back,’ he adds on shamelessly, my stomach turning with desire. Now that he’s said it, I want him to do just that after his next match.

‘Sorry. That was too much,’ he says, thinking I’m silent because I’m uncomfortable, and I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t. It makes me feel good that you want me,’ I say, a small grin on his lips. ‘Seems like I’m good at making you feel good,’ he smirks, the double entendre not going unnoticed, and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

‘You’re far too confident for a guy that hasn’t actually fucked me yet,’ I say pointedly, his eyes widening. ‘You really don’t want a gentleman, do you? I was just giving you a chance to recover from your first ever orgasm before I give you another one,’ he mutters amusedly. ‘Wasn’t much to recover from,’ I joke, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Your thighs trying to crush my head said different, babe. So did your pussy trying to break my finger,’ he reminds me, and I fall silent, not able to come up with a retort.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he chuckles, getting up from the bed and picking up his jeans. I panic for a second, thinking he’s about to go, but he just gets a condom out of the pocket. ‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you, babe? You can tell me if you’re tired or not ready or you just don’t want to,’ he says softly, and I shake my head. ‘I still want you, Mase,’ I say quietly, crawling to the edge of the bed beside where he stands, taking one of his hands into mine and pulling him close.

‘But I want you raw,’ I whisper, taking the condom out of his hand, and he lets out a little sigh. ‘y/n-’ ‘Please. I want you to cum in me,’ I say softly, looking up at him through my lashes, and he groans. ‘Fuck, y/n, don’t say that.’ ‘It’s true, though. I want it in me, not in a condom.’

‘And what if you get pregnant?’ ‘I won’t, I’m on the pill!’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Is it 100% effective?’ ‘Well… no, but Isla and Steph are both on it and they’ve never gotten pregnant,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘So just because they have sex without condoms, you want to as well?’ ‘No, I want to because I want to feel you, without anything separating us, and I want you to cum inside me,’ I say, and he looks skywards like he needs help from God to have this conversation with me.

‘If you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But-’ ‘No, I want to. I just don’t want to risk anything happening to you,’ he murmurs, lifting a hand to caress my face gently. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m consistent with the pill, so I won’t get pregnant. And you’re clean, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘So it’s gonna be fine then. Please, Masey,’ I say with a pout, and he finally gives in.

‘Okay, fine. If my dirty girl wants it raw, that’s what she’ll get,’ he grins, my core throbbing at the thought of him cumming inside me. ‘Lie back for me,’ he instructs and I do as he says, on full display for him, his eyes trawling over my body appreciatively. ‘You’re so perfect, baby,’ he praises, taking his boxers off, and my heart pounds at the sight of him stood there in all his glory. Flawlessly toned body, dark ink on fair skin, and a cock that makes my pussy wet.

‘That’s… not gonna fit in me,’ I breathe out, the boy laughing as he climbs over me, his lips meeting mine in soft kiss. ‘It will, babe.’ ‘Will it hurt?’ I ask nervously, and he doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘Maybe. But we’ll go slowly, and I’ll stop if you ask me to. Okay?’ he murmurs, and I nod, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself.

He kisses me again, turning us over so my body weight rests entirely on him, his hands trailing up and down my body. We both gradually get more and more worked up, moaning against each other’s mouths, our hands fervent and desperate on each other. My core is impossibly wet, my arousal soaking his skin too, and when he reaches a hand between my legs, slipping his finger between my folds, a pornographic moan escapes my lips, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘You’re definitely wet enough. Are you still sure you want this?’ ‘Yes, Mase, please. Need you to fuck me,’ I murmur against his neck, the boy wasting no time in turning us over, on his knees between my legs. He runs the tip up and down my folds, soaking his cock in my arousal, and my walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside.

‘What’s your safe word?’ he tests me. ‘Clueless.’ ‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, the praise making me smile to myself, and I watch as he pumps his cock a couple times, his eyes fluttering shut at the stimulation. He’s so fucking sexy – just the sight of him like this makes me feel like I could cum.

‘Legs around my waist, babe,’ he says as he moves to hover over me, and I wrap my legs around him, hooking them together at the ankles. ‘Ready?’ he asks, and I nod, heart warm at the gentle kiss he presses to my lips.

I feel the head of his cock running along my folds again before he starts to push inside me. The pain of the stretch catches me off guard – I didn’t expect it to hurt like this – and I gasp, my entire body tensing. ‘Hurts?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I squeak out, gripping on to his shoulders, and he leans down to press comforting kisses to my jaw. ‘Shall I stop?’ he asks against my skin, and I shake my head. It hurts but I still want him.

‘The tip’s usually the worst bit and that’s nearly in. You’re doing so well,’ he whispers soothingly, pushing further in bit by bit, the pain throbbing between my legs. He keeps whispering praise and encouragement in my ear, telling me I’m taking him so well and I’m being such a good girl for him, and it makes me even wetter, letting him push in all the way with less and less pain.

‘Well done, babe, you did so well,’ he says softly once he’s all the way in, kissing me sweetly as my body tries to get used to the unfamiliar intrusion. Despite my best efforts to keep my body relaxed, my walls keep clenching around him, as though they’re trying to force him out.

‘I know you don’t mean to, but- fuck. Your clenching is not doing me any favours,’ he murmurs with his head buried in my neck, and I try my best to stop, feeling bad for him. He hasn’t had sex for almost a year and now that he’s finally in me, he’s staying still so he can let me adjust. This is probably torture for him.

‘You know you’re the first girl that I’ve not used a condom with?’ he says against my skin, my heart singing at the news that I am one of his firsts after all. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah. And I hope to God that you decide to keep me around after tonight, because I cannot go back to condoms after being in you raw and you’re the only person I trust to fuck without one,’ he admits, the butterflies going wild again.

‘Of course I’m gonna keep you around. Our contract doesn’t expire for another month yet,’ I joke, the boy laughing against my neck, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘What about after that? Will you sign the renewal?’ ‘Will you?’ I ask, wanting to hear his answer first. ‘I’d rather have a real relationship with you instead,’ he says, a happy sigh escaping my lips, the sound making him laugh.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asks, and I realise that the conversation distracted me from the uncomfortable feeling from before. Now my body’s already become accustomed to him inside me. It doesn’t hurt anymore – I just feel full.

‘I feel okay. You can move now,’ I say, and he lifts his head up to meet my eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm. I’m ready,’ I breathe out, kissing him again. ‘I’m warning you, though, babe. I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.’ ‘That’s okay, Mase.’ ‘No, but seriously. I might cum before you.’ ‘It’s fine, Mason, don’t worry. I’m not gonna get pissed off at you for cumming first,’ I laugh, the boy nodding with a small smile.

He starts moving, slowly pulling partway out before pushing back in gently, both of us sharply intaking breath at the feeling. It’s weird at first, and a little bit painful, but as his pace becomes more steady and his thrusts become more forceful, the pain ebbs away into pleasure.

‘Does it feel good?’ ‘Feels so good, Mase,’ I whimper, his skin so hot against mine, hands pressing into the bed on either side of my head. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight, babe,’ he curses, and it really does feel like he’s just about fitting in me, cock dragging against my walls and sending blissful waves of pleasure through me.

I can feel the way he’s restraining himself from pounding into me the way he must want to, instead rolling his hips against mine in slow and shallow thrusts, body moving against my clit, making me clench around him unintentionally.

‘Babe, you really need to stop clenching before I cum,’ he warns me, and I widen my eyes innocently. ‘I’m not doing it on purpose, Mase. I can’t help it. Just love how you feel inside me,’ I murmur, the boy groaning as his dick twitches.

‘Fuck, I’m so close,’ he murmurs, the whiny tone of his voice making me gush around him, and I decide I need him to cum in me right now. I dig my heels into his back as he thrusts into me, keeping him buried deep inside, and I clench around him, pulling his head down so I can whisper in his ear.

‘Cum for me, Mase. Wanna feel your cum in me,’ I breathe out against his ear, and it pushes him over the edge, the boy letting out a moan into my neck as he hits his high, his cock pulsing in me as he cums, his release deep in me. He lets out heavy breaths and gentle grunts, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to my lips once he’s done.

‘I’ve never cum that quick in my life.’ ‘Yeah, right. Starting to think you’re a two-pump chump,’ I tease, his mouth dropping open. ‘It’s nearly been a year-’ ‘I know, I’m joking,’ I laugh, kissing him again. We’ve kissed so many times tonight but every single one feels like a first kiss, filling my body with so much happiness.

‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘It hurt a bit at the start but then it felt good,’ I say shyly, Mason grinning. I can feel his cock softening inside me, not stretching me out so much now. ‘If you ever let me fuck you again, I promise I’ll make you cum first,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Well, as it stands, there’s not much making me want to sleep with you again,’ I joke, Mason rolling his eyes.

‘You’re never gonna move on from this, are you?’ ‘Nope. You’ll be hearing about it for the rest of your life.’ ‘Rest of my life? Who says I wanna keep you around that long?’ ‘Things in your life clearly don’t last very long then,’ I fire back, Mason bursting into laughter, prompting me to laugh too. Sex always felt so scary to me, so serious and real, but this has been perfect, with all the laughing and joking and tenderness.

‘You still want me to fuck you?’ ‘Can you?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll get hard again in a couple minutes.’ ‘That quickly?’ I ask in surprise, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m in bed with the sexiest girl on Earth, and she’s naked and has my cock in her. I’m surprised I’m not already hard again,’ he says as though it’s obvious, my heart melting at hearing him compliment me again. I don’t think I’ll ever doubt myself again after this.

‘I do still want you to fuck me. I… don’t want today to be over yet. It’s been perfect,’ I say, the boy smiling softly. ‘I’d make every single day like this for you if you asked for it,’ he says, and even though it’d never be possible, he says it with complete sincerity, as though he really would want to. ‘You don’t have to take me on the best date ever and buy me lavish presents every day. But this part would be nice to do every day,’ I say coyly, Mason laughing gently.

‘Okay, babe. I’ll fuck you every day if that’s what you want,’ he promises me, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought of him coming home to me waiting for him to fuck me. ‘Is that what my dirty girl wants?’ he asks, hand tightening on my jaw, holding my head in place so he can stare deep into my eyes, and I just about manage to nod in his tight grip. He’s giving me whiplash with the way he’s switching the mood.

‘Want me to come home to you and fuck you after you’ve been waiting all day? Because you know I would, baby. If you’re in the kitchen baking me something sweet, I’ll lie you across the counter and eat something even sweeter. If you’re watching TV in the living room, I’ll slip my fingers into your pants and make you cum all over my hand like a good little slut. If you’re in the dance studio, I’ll bend you over in front of the mirror so you can watch how pretty you look with my cock in you. If you’re recording, I’ll sit you on my cock and record all your pretty moans so you can listen to them when I’m away and remember how good I make you feel. I’ll fuck you after my matches and after your shows when we’re both all worked up and desperate for each other. I’ll fuck you with my fingers in the car after our dates, and then I’ll flip up your skirt as soon as we’re inside and fuck you against the front door. I’m yours now, babe, and you can have me whenever and wherever,’ he says lowly as he kisses along my jaw, his words making me moan softly. The thought of having him in all those different ways sends a fresh wave of arousal through me – I want him in every single one of those situations and my life won’t be complete if I don’t get it.

‘Want me to fuck my cum back into you?’ ‘Please fuck me, Mase. I need it,’ I beg pathetically, the boy grinning against my skin. He sits up on his knees again, pulling out of me and focusing his eyes between my legs. I can feel his cum dripping out of me a few moments later, his eyes darkening and smirk growing at the sight. I reach down and scoop some of it up, lifting my hand to my mouth and swiping my tongue across one fingertip, able to taste both of us. He watches me with a heavy focus, so I decide to help him along to getting hard again.

I reach my hand back down, his cum still on my fingers, and I think about pushing it back into me, but my nails are too long for me to put my fingers inside myself, so I rub it across my clit instead. I curse under my breath, keeping my eyes on his face as I smear his release across my folds and my clit, rolling my hips to meet the movements of my hand. He looks desperate for me, eyes so dark they’re almost black and lips parted to let out heavy breaths.

‘You’re so fucking hot, babe, oh, my God,’ he groans, hand fisting his cock, and he’s already hard again, abs clenching at the stimulation he’s giving himself. ‘Mase, fuck me, please,’ I whimper, still rubbing slow circles at my clit, and it’s like my begging knocks him back into action. He moves my hand away, replacing it with his own, and even though he matches my pace, it just feels so much better, my back arching under his touch.

He pulls off my socks, both of us now completely naked, and he lifts one of my legs to rest my ankle on his shoulder. He’s still resting on his knees, and he kisses the inside of my ankle as he buries himself deep inside me with much less resistance this time. I feel so much more exposed without his body covering mine, but the infatuation in his gaze as it travels across my body makes me feel confident rather than uncomfortable.

‘Can I move?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slipping his hands beneath my back to lift my body up from the bed slightly. ‘Use your safe word if I’m being too rough,’ he says, the only bit of warning before he pulls almost all the way out before slamming all the way back in. There’s slight pain but it only adds to the pleasure, my eyes rolling back as I let out a high-pitched moan.

‘Fuck, baby, your moans are so fucking pretty. My pretty baby sounds so desperate and good for me,’ he murmurs, moving my body back and forth to meet his strong thrusts, his cock so deep it feels like it’s in my stomach. His hands are tight at my waist, holding me in a bruising grip, and his thrusts are just as forceful, but the kisses he presses to my ankles and legs are so soft and tender in comparison, my mind in a mess at the conflicting sensations.

He's much more focused on my pleasure now, watching my face intently to see my reactions as he fucks into me at a steady pace, the sounds of my moaning and skin slapping against skin drowning out the gentle music in the background. My body’s so stunned at the unfamiliar feelings, but the thing that makes me squirm the most is the look on his face as he watches me, a mix of cockiness, affection and intense desire.

‘You’re taking it so fucking well, y/n. My pretty girl loves having my cock, isn’t that right?’ he murmurs, voice strained with the effort of fucking me, and I can’t even respond, just moaning his name desperately. I feel the knot in my stomach starting to tighten as I watch his muscles rippling with every movement, the blood vessels in his body corded tight.

‘Getting close?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod, the boy adjusting his position so he’s lying over me again, one leg slung around his waist with the other bent up between our bodies. He fucks into me with renewed energy, the new position meaning the head of his cock is brushing against a spot inside me that makes my eyes tear up, and his grunts of effort are directly against my ear, driving me wild.

‘Fuck, Mase, feels so good,’ I moan in a high-pitched tone against his ear, the boy cursing, his pace increasing after hearing the desperation in my voice. He rests his weight on one forearm, his other hand slipping between our bodies to draw harsh circles at my clit. It’s all too much – his cock hitting the soft spot inside me, his fingers rubbing at my clit, his noises in my ear – and I feel myself hurtling towards my high.

‘Is my pretty baby gonna cum on my cock for me? Come on, babe, you’re so close. Cum around me like a good little slut, baby,’ he murmurs against my ear, thrusting particularly hard as he presses down on my clit, and I cry out his name as my orgasm washes over me. My walls clamp down around him, so tight he can’t move, so he gets me through my orgasm by rubbing harshly at my clit, sucking bruises onto my neck as my nails dig into his back, scratching lines across his skin.

My walls loosen around him once I start coming down, and he takes the opportunity to start fucking into me again, chasing his own orgasm. The overstimulation is too much, my body still twitching with aftershocks, body squirming beneath his.

‘Come on, baby, you can take it. Be a good girl for me,’ he breathes out, words broken up with curses and moans, and despite the tears running down my face, I want to do as he says. So I do my best to get him there, engaging what sanity I have left to meet his thrusts, clenching around him, kissing and biting along his jaw.

‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum, babe,’ he groans, burying himself deep in me as he moans my name, filling me with his release again. He thrusts into me slowly to get himself through his orgasm before pulling out when he’s done, cum dripping out of me.

‘You’re such a good girl for me, baby,’ he murmurs, collecting up the cum that’s trickling across my skin before pushing it back into me with a two fingers, prompting an ‘mmm’ sound from low in my throat, legs closing around his hand.

‘Let me clean you up,’ he says, half to himself, and he gets up off the bed and pulls his boxers back on before heading into the en suite. My body relaxes back into the duvet, skin damp with sweat and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and I focus on the music so I don’t drift off to sleep, my body exhausted.

I can feel Mason’s hands on me as he cleans me up with a damp towel but I don’t register anything he says and I can’t focus my eyes on him either, lids sliding shut after a few seconds. When they reopen, it’s clearly been a while – Mason’s pulled the covers over my body and put a fresh pair of pants on me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand and a bottle of water beside him. All the presents he got me are sitting on my vanity table, the bouquet of flowers on my bedside table, and I admire them with a warm feeling in my chest.

‘Mase,’ I say, voice hoarse, and he turns to look at me with a smile. ‘She’s back,’ he grins, lifting one of my hands to press a kiss to the skin, contentment filling me. ‘You okay?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I hum in response as he hands me a bottle of water, watching as I gulp it down.

‘Why are you sitting there?’ ‘I thought it was a bit… presumptuous to get into bed with you without asking,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You were just inside me.’ ‘Still.’ ‘Mason, I don’t have a problem with my boyfriend getting into bed with me,’ I say with a small smile, and he tilts his head amusedly.

‘I’m not your boyfriend. Well, I’m your fake boyfriend. I haven’t asked if I can be your real boyfriend yet,’ he reminds me, and I roll my eyes. ‘You don’t have to ask.’ ‘No, babe. You told me you dreamed of romance in a relationship, and I want to be the man of your dreams, so I’m gonna ask, with a big gesture and everything,’ he says, and I pout.

‘So I have to wait?’ I ask, and he shakes his head with a grin, reaching over and plucking the single pink rose out of the bouquet, handing it to me. When I hold it, I realise it’s not real, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘It’s a forever rose. There was a card that I wrote to go with it but I chickened out and didn’t give it to you,’ he says, picking up his jeans from where they are on the floor, fishing out a note and handing it to me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y/n. You’ll be in my heart until the last rose dies. Yours forever, Mason x

My eyes fill with tears, the boy laughing as he moves to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘You’re so cute, babe,’ he murmurs, and I shake my head. ‘No, you’re so cute! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I reply tearfully, Mason stroking my hair with a soft hand.

‘Look at the rose again,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, inspecting it. As I move it, I notice the light glinting off something between the petals. I pick it out with my nails, gasping at the sparkling pink sapphire set into a silver ring. ‘It matches the jewellery set. It’s a promise ring,’ he says, taking it from me and slipping it onto my left ring finger.

‘A promise for what?’ ‘A promise that I’ll replace it with an engagement ring and then a wedding ring, if that’s what you want. A promise that I’ll love you forever, y/n,’ he says softly, and I turn to look at him with wide eyes. ‘Love?’ ‘What else, babe? Since the moment I saw you, I knew. You were gonna change my life, and now I can’t imagine it without you and all your pink. I love you, y/n,’ he whispers, and I let out a teary laugh, pulling him in for a kiss.

‘You still haven’t asked me,’ I say suddenly, breaking apart from him, and he laughs. ‘y/n, will you be my girlfriend?’ ‘Yes!’ I exclaim, pulling him back into a kiss. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper into the kiss, feeling his lips curve up into a smile. ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, breaking away from me, and I laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve only just realised it, but I know it now. I love you, Mason Mount,’ I smile, the boy pulling me into his arms with a chuckle. ‘I love you more, my clueless girl.’

[sugahbunnies]

BUCKET LIST ☆ 14

Saiki slightly wishes he left the fight between you two dragged out a little bit as he watches you point at the build your own buddy store. The excitement is basically radiating off your body as you jump and down, reaching for Saiki’s hand but he pulls away the second your hand wraps around his pinky.

“Just because we made up doesn’t mean we get to hold hands like a couple” Saiki says, his tone drilling into your brain. You frown, tugging at his sleeve and pulling towards the other side of the mall.

“You promise we’d do anything I want to make up for what you did, let’s do something that symbolizes our friendship” You smile, your tired eyes crinkling at the corners. Saiki looks away as you smile, not wanting to show that he notices your dark eye circles. Did you really lose that much sleep over the fight? He honestly feels bad, and this is his way to apologize.

To bringing you to this childish store and let’s say he’s not a big fan.. maybe.

“Friendship” He repeats, and you nod.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow and Saiki slightly scoffs.

“Alright” He replies, gesturing towards the store.

“Go ahead”.

You squint at him, suspicious that he might walk off and hide from you.

“I won’t leave, if that is what you are thinking” He explains, making a fist and hitting the top of your head softly.

“Okay, cool!” You exclaim, attempting to grab his hand away and yes, he avoids it completely. As you both walk into the store, Saiki can’t help seeing the burn marks on your knuckles. You’re scanning the available toys with excitement and all Saiki can think about how is..

Why did you go out of your way to make him dinner?

He feels pretty bad, two days ago you had called him. Asking him if he wants to come over, and sadly he couldn’t he had .. some business to do. That business having to do going to this coffee jelly sale that he couldn’t turn away. Even if he wanted to. You sighed loudly into the phone as he said no, you had prepared this dinner for hours because you suck at cooking. Plus, burning yourself with boiling water wasn’t exactly ideal, and having to eat this whole dinner by yourself was just upright depressing. You wanted to have this dinner as a way to apologize to him, but he did tell you that you guys can reschedule.

Saiki shakes his head, picking up the ridiculously mini clothes meant for the stuffed toys. He turns to you and realizes you are right up to his face. He leans back a bit, as you lift a yellow dog with a brown hat.

“How cute is this? Give me your brutal opinion” You say, swaying the dog side to side. Saiki reaches out and pulls on the hat, when it doesn’t come off he pulls harder.

You smack his hand lightly, going “Bad Saiki!”. He blankly looks at you, reaching for a brown cardigan and grabbing the plush from your hands.

“Go for a brown palette, eccentric clothing hurt my eyes” He comments, putting the cardigan on the dog.

You stifle a laugh, tugging at Saiki’s sleeve.

“What is it now? Saiki asks, and you press your lips together in an attempt to not make fun of him.

“You’re wearing a neon green and bright blue vest, I wouldn’t say eccentric clothing hurts you in any way” You cross your arms with a grin, which Saiki doesn’t return.

Although, he really does. It’s really hard not to smile about you in general, and he finds it odd when he feels fuzzy when you do something endearing.

“I like the white dog with black ears” Saiki comments, trying not to admit he will like a toy of his own.

He holds your golden dog in his hands as you gently grab the one he pointed out.

“Let’s give him a silly hat” You suggest, and once again, Saiki gets that fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“I guess” He blurts out in such a plain voice, he wishes he said it in a more nicer way. Although, it doesn’t seem to bother you in any shape or form.

“I like the way you talk”.

Okay, that definitely made Saiki feel something. he is not used to compliments and this one hit hard. He always thought he talked too bluntly and his tone was always off.

“What about it” Is the only words that he can choke out, and he avoids eye contact as you place odd yet unique looking clothes on his choice of toy.

“You get straight to the point, you don’t sugarcoat” You start counting on your fingers and Saiki shakes his head.

“Let’s not get into it” Saiki interrupts once you’re about to say the third reason.

“Let’s pay and go” He suggests, still avoiding eye contact and walking past you. You nod, following him like a lost puppy.

Once you both get out of the store, Saiki decides to invite you over to his place. You gladly accept and you suggest a splurge of food again. Saiki sighs, knowing you both are about to have sugar high once again.

Yet he agrees.

Saiki doesn’t particularly like this gas station since he knows your classmates come here often and he doesn’t want to run into them. Especially with you.

You never admitted it but you are quite popular within the third years, obviously because you’re a transfer student and that you are so lively.

Saiki also never admits it but he likes that you are lively, it’s just your socialness can be a bit draining at times. So once you both enter the gas station, he scans the entire store to search for anyone he knows. You slip out of Saiki’s sight to get a tub of ice cream, while Saiki is having a crisis in choosing what chips he should get.

“Fuck it, I’ll get all of Y/n’s favorites” He reaches for three bags and pauses.’

Did he just curse? He never does so, and it’s out of character for him to do so. Maybe your intense cursing that only his ears hear is rubbing off on him. He cocks his head to the side quickly and grabs about four bags of sour candy. He stands there in the aisle and begins to think, “What if it isn’t good for your condition to eat all this?”. He starts getting deep in thought, a shriek breaking his train of thought and he shoots his head up.

“Y/n?” He says outloud, turning the corner and seeing you with a tub of ice cream and two liters of soda. Saiki’s eyes linger to the person you are facing and see..

Ugh, Toritsuka.

“Toritsuka! I didn’t expect to see you here” You exclaim, your eyes lighting up and Saiki feels a bang to his chest.

“Me neither, I expected to see you on our date next week” Toritsuka says, patting your head and ruffling your hair.

Saiki senses his body tense up and freeze. There’s no way he heard Toritsuka right, a date? With Y/n?

He feels his heart drop to his stomach and looks at you for an answer, but all you do is nod. He hears the conversation going on and it’s obvious the purple haired scumbag is flirting. Saiki rolls his eyes in annoyance, though he is not sure why.

Maybe he feels slightly off because you’re his best friend? Wait, best friend is too much of an intense label, Saiki thinks.

Friend, he corrects himself in his head. He impatiently waits on your side, stealing glances at you. He doesn’t like how your face seems to be radiating happiness, and your smile is so big he can see ninety percent of your teeth.

“Well, I’ll see you later cutie, uhm Saiki” Toritsuka awkwardly waves at Saiki before tapping your cheek twice. Once he leaves, you turn to Saiki who is absolutely deadpan in the face.

“What’s wrong?” You question, obviously oblivious to Saiki’s feelings. “Nothing, let’s get to my house, alright?” He walks past you and his shoulder bumps into yours. You frown, oh how much you hate when he does that!

When you arrive at his house, you feel he is a bit off. Like.. his whole vibe is off and he seems more stoic than usual.

Ten minutes into splurging once again, you chug down a cup of soda and burp loudly. This would typically make Saiki smile maybe a little bit, but now nothing.

“Hey what’s wro-”

“You're actually going on a date with Toritsuka?” Saiki asks, it’s crystal clear he’s ticked off but you are not sure why?

“Yes!” You answer, wanting to push Saiki off the edge to see if he blows up on you.

He doesn’t.

“Well, good luck with that” Saiki sucks his teeth and chews on a rainbow strip, his eyes on his cup of soda.

“Aren’t you happy?” You question, and Saiki shrugs.

“You have awful taste in men” Saiki points out, a smug smile threatening to break out on his face but he succeeds to hold it in.

You scowl, grabbing a handful of lime lays and sticking your tongue out at him.

“Atleast I have a love life” You comment, waiting for Saiki to reply as he chews up more sour candy.

“Not interested”.

“Whatever you say Kusuo Saiki”.

Saiki feels a tingly sensation in his stomach as you say his name, and he slightly punches his stomach. You don’t notice as you are too invested in your brownie fudge ice cream. Saiki grimaces at the chocolate piling up at the corners of your mouth. You never learned how to properly eat, did you?

“You’ll be the first to know what happens after that date, okay? You are my best friend after all” You say with an upbeat tone and honestly? That hurts Saiki a bit more.

Saiki simply nods, not knowing why he is so upset at that label, it is true you both are friends.

He leans back into his chair and thinks to himself, “Always a best friend to you huh”.

[killuakiru]

hello!! could you write headcanons for killua and gon (separately) w a fem!reader that looks/dresses masculine/very androgynous and sometimes even gets misgendered as a guy? ty!! <3

Yes I absolutely can !! Thank you for your request dear anon 🫶

⊹₊⋆ Androgynous!Reader x Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freeces ( Separate ! ) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Let's start! ༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Lets say, hypothetically, you both met during the Hunter's Exam, and Gon introduced you to him !

• At first, he found you suuuper interesting! ‘cause he saw a "boy" with a soft expression, and such a soft voice as well! Something you don't see or hear often.

• He made a mental note to tease you about your feminine features in the future.

• Although, nonetheless, you three bonded like no other. But you'd always question why Killua was so touchy. ( Like swinging an arm around your shoulder, hitting / patting your back. Yk, dude activity! )

• Up until the end of the Hunter's Exam, he NEVER knew that you were a girl. Hell– even when the group rescued him from the Zoldyck estate!

• "Gon! Oh– [Name], too!" He mentions your name VERY cheerfully! Even hitting your waist with both of his fists– it's a miracle he didn't question the shape of your waist as a female.

• It wasn't until during the training in Heaven's Arena that he found out.

• "[Name]'s taking FOREVER! He sure takes his sweet time." Killua grumbles, sighing and shaking his head in a disapproval manner. Gon perks up and faces Killua with a confused expression. [Name] is a she?" He mentions, baffling Killua. "WHAT?!"

• And, said "she" comes out in her glory, quite literally wearing a SKIRT. Clad in a long beige cardigan, long sleeve white tshirt underneath, and a long khaki pleaded skirt that're below her knees for a change, SHE waved to the duo.

• "Hi! Sorry I took a while. I didn't know skirts were honestly such a hassle to buckle." She says with an exasperated sigh, placing both hands on her hips. "No problem! But you should really change, I mean, we're fighting and it must be uncomfortable to wear a skirt." Gon exclaims, walking over to the female. She nods with a grin, "No worries, I always have a change of clothes."

• During this interaction, Killua was STUNNED. What do you mean he's been SO touchy with a female all this time?!

• "Killua, stop staring! Let's sign up already!" [Name] called and faced the counter and signed some papers.

• While this didn't change Killua's and [Name]'s friendship, Killua will ALWAYS be embarrassed. He honestly feels SO bad that he misgendered you for a few months.

• after that interaction, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a tad bit interested in [Name]!

༉‧₊˚. Gon Freecss ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• It's either he's already aware that you're a female or he's so clueless

• In a scene where he's already aware, his instincts probably told him that you're a female LMAO, he's like "You dress kind of funny!" Since the people in Whale Island usually wear long skirts / dresses

• But he's soso positive about it!! He's always like "Your style is so cool!" As he babbles about the traditional clothing in Whale Island

• In a scene where he IS clueless, he'll treat you exactly how he treats Killua! The difference would honestly be the softness on his voice

• Due to living with two women his entire life, he's gotten used to being softer on women ( as per Mita's words )

• When you both met, let's say in the Hunter's Exam and you wear like a soft feminine perfume despite your clothing he goes "Hi miss!" In an excited tone.

• Of course, you were pleasantly surprised because a lot of people would call you "sir" or "little boy / boy" all the time.

• In contrast to Killua, he read in between the lines and connected the dot that you were a female by your soft expression & voice.

• Now if he DIDN'T know, he'd probably go like "Hi sir!" As well, and since he was pretty forward with his greeting, you got to correct him earlier.

• But hypothetically, let's say he just walked up to you saying he wants to be friends!

• He probably found out through the end of the Hunter's Exam, or during the rescuing of Killua!

• If he found out through the end of the Hunter's Exam, he probably found out through observing your fighting style!

• If you fought with your fists, he found out with the way you move your body– naturally, a female's body would have a softer tone unlike a male who would be on the rougher edges!

• same goes if you use any weapons or special techniques :3

• You might be thinking– if Gon found all these out by observing, why didn't Killua? Simple! Because he was sooo convinced you were a boy and he didn't bother observing you!

• When Gon found out, he was straight forward! "[Name].. Are you by any chance a girl?" He asks in a genuine & curious manner, and how could you stay mad at him?! It was an honest mistake he did!

• You just cleared up everything, saying that you prefer wearing the clothing you wear for comfortability, and because it hides your movements easily to the point you can easily fool your opponent! ( get the reference ? )

• He listened closely and attentively, and he was really respectful about it too! Such a gentleman!

• ( If Killua knew beforehand ) Killua definitely teased Gon about it, humorously saying he was stupid for not knowing a clear thing! ( even when he was fooled too in the beginning )

• Through the times you three adventured through the world up until the end, Gon loved you SOO much! He loves you for who you are even when people make fun of him for choosing a girl that looks like a boy :)

• In the end, he was happy, even after he lost his ability to use Nen, he's glad there's someone who'll take care of him and his reckless choices <3

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Hopefully you like this anon ! 🫶 I had fun making this, I apologize if this seems too ooc ( out of character ) since I sprinkled a lil own hc of their characters !

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

Masterlist here !

[elizabethwritesmen]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜

chapter 3: the big picture

pairing: firefighter!steve x reader

summary: after a not-date with steve and a few revelations, y/n can’t hold her feelings in anymore. to make matters worse, tragedy strikes at the worst moment.

warnings: ANGST. smut to come.

a/n: i’m sorry in advance for the ending of this chapter, and i promise it will get better! i wanted to have all the parts out by christmas but it didn’t work out that way. still, though, i plan to finish this series as soon as possible IF you guys still want it! i’m grateful for all interaction but i noticed it went down on part 2 so let me know whether i should finish this or start working on something else please! (:

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 4

I knew it was silly when I grabbed the slinky dress out of my closet. It was delicate, white knit fabric with lacy pink flowers, and not quite my usual style. I was more of a comfort everywhere I go kind of girl, but for once, I wanted to make the extra effort. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Steve was going to come see me at work. Nothing at all.

I slipped a baby pink cardigan over it, letting it hang loosely off my shoulders, and pulled on some lacy pink socks, rolling them down and fitting them into white tennis shoes. I thought I looked cute, delicate but still quite pretty.

I walked into the living room where Robin was waiting, and she raised her brow at me, no words forming but her face saying it all.

“What?” I huffed, crossing my arms.

“Steve must be coming by the shop today.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because that’s the only reason you’d put on an outfit like that.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well does it at least look okay?”

“You look great, don’t get me wrong. Steve is gonna have to do a Darcy hand flex when he sees you. But you’re also being really obvious.”

“It doesn’t get more obvious than the Y/N and Steve sitting in a tree jokes you were making yesterday.”

“I guess that’s true,” she shrugged, “Everyone knows you two are gonna get together anyways. It’s just a matter of waiting now.”

“We are so not.”

“Yeah, ok, sure. Whatever you say.”

We drove to work separately, and the day passed by slowly. I anxiously awaited the moment Steve would walk through the door. It was almost embarrassing, really, every time someone came in and I heard the bell I looked up all giddy and hopeful.

Finally, about a half hour before we closed, when I’d given up all hope, he showed up.

I looked up, not at all expecting it to be him, but there he was.

He stood there for a moment, taking me in. His eyes scanned over me slowly, greedily. I smiled, knowing I got exactly the reaction I wanted.

“Hey,” he managed to get out, still distracted.

“Hey,” I shot back, “I started to think you weren’t coming.”

“Of course I’m here,” he met my eyes at that and chuckled lightly, a beautiful sound that met my ears and melted into them. “I brought you something.”

“Another cat?”

This time I earned a laugh instead of a chuckle, full and sweet, “Unfortunately no, but I think you’ll like it anyway.” He then pulled his hand out from behind his back, and, for the record, I’d been so caught up in my thoughts I hadn’t even noticed it was there. In it he was holding a perfectly tailored bouquet of pink tulips, mixed in with a few other delicate flowers.

I gasped, staring at it for a second before walking around the counter to grab it from him. It was already in a vase of water, which made me think it was from a flower shop instead of a supermarket aisle. Additionally, there was a pretty bow tied around the base.

“I don’t know what to say,” I stammered, holding them in front of me and examining them, unable to look away. “They’re perfect.”

“I forgot to get you flowers the day of your graduation. I wanted to make up for it now.”

“You’re still the only person who’s ever given me flowers.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Remember that time we went to the store and I said the flowers were pretty so you grabbed the prettiest bunch of them and bought them?”

“You asked me who they were for and I wouldn’t tell you ‘til we got back to your house and I stole one of your mom’s vases and put them in your room.”

“That’s still the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Until now, at least. This even tops that.”

“I’m sorry nobody else got you flowers. You deserve to get them, and often.”

“You’re so sweet,” I smiled, placing them on the counter for everyone to see. They were such a statement piece, so beautiful you had to admire them. My heart was in shambles, completely wrecked from his kind gesture, and I forgot how to be normal, fidgeting nervously.

“I’m meeting up with a couple guys from the station in an hour at a restaurant outside of town. Would you wanna come with me?”

“Really?” I quirked a brow, “I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Well, one is bringing his wife and the other is bringing his girlfriend. I know you’re not either of those, but you’re the only person I’d want there.”

I grinned, “I’d love to. Is what I’m wearing okay, or do I need to go home and change first?”

“What you’re wearing is perfect. I’ll wait here with you until you get off and we can ride over there together, if you want.”

“Of course I want that!”

And he did, sitting on a stool beside me as I worked. It was a slow day, so I was just helping Robin filter through inventory. It only took a few minutes for her to walk in and start picking on us.

“Where did these come from?” she said, glancing from the flowers to us and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I brought them for Y/N,” he simply told her.

“Is that so? They’re very pretty. They look like girlfriend flowers to me.”

“They’re not girlfriend flowers,” I huffed.

“Sure, sure. Would you come help me in the back for a minute? I have a question about a record shipment.”

“Fine,” I sighed, standing up and grazing my nails over Steve’s shoulders on the way.

As soon as we were behind a closed door, Robin went in on me.

“Flowers?!” she exclaimed.

“Will you just tell me about this record shipment?” I rolled my eyes.

“There is no record shipment. Now let’s get back to the flowers.”

“What about them?”

“I don’t know any men who would buy a girl flowers platonically, especially not flowers that nice.”

“Yes you do. Steve.”

“But he wouldn’t, though. He’s never bought me flowers, or Max, or anyone. I don’t even remember him giving Nancy flowers in high school.”

“Well… it’s just a gesture, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Who are you kidding, me or yourself? You need to tell that boy how you feel before this becomes a shit storm like it did last time!”

“It’s not that easy, Rob. I don’t know that he feels the same way. Flirting and feeling are different.”

“Y/N,” she sighed, “Eyes never lie and when his land on you they stay on you. You’re it for him. I just wish you both would realize that. Now go back out there. I’m assuming you have plans with him after work so you can go ahead and go if you want.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Always. And obviously you have to text me all day and update me on your dazzling love story.”

“Shut up,” I smacked her on the arm as I walked out to the counter. Steve looked up at me, and I almost saw what she was talking about. His eyes landed differently on me than on anything else. No divided focus, no looking away. Just pupils, blown wide and taking me in like a mountain range or an ocean.

“You ready?” I asked, and he nodded.

“We’ll be a little early, but that’s fine. We can just go ahead and get the table.”

“Sounds good,” I smiled, following him out to his truck. He opened the passenger door for me and helped me in because it was a little too tall for me to step into gracefully on my own.

It smelled good in there. Like black ice and pure Steve Harrington, cinnamon and a hint of cedar mixing with his natural scent. I glanced around, noticing his work clothes in the back, for emergencies surely. It was a little messy, but not much, he seemed to keep it pretty tidy.

He hopped into the driver’s seat, cranking the trunk up and as he went to back out, he placed his hand on my seat and turned his body towards me to look behind us.

“There’s a backup camera, Steve,” I mumbled, eyes wide at his gesture. I didn’t know what was so endearing about it, but my heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t trust it,” he shrugged, putting it in drive and pulling out of the lot.

He headed directly to the restaurant and it was about a 20 minute drive altogether. Once we pulled up, I furrowed my brows.

“When did this get here?” I asked him, giving the place a full once over.

“Couple years after you left,” he shrugged, getting out. I did the same, walking to the front of the truck and letting him lead me inside.

Once the doors shut behind us, we were greeted by a hostess that was entirely too cheerful.

“Steve!” she screeched, her voice high pitched and bird like. I cringed, fighting the urge to cover my ears. “I wasn’t expecting you today!”

He gave her a polite smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I could tell she annoyed him too, and I snorted slightly, causing her to glance at me for the first time.

“Oh, hello,” she remarked, her voice dropping an octave or two, “Table for two?”

“For six,” he interjected, and she nodded, marking something down on the paper in front of her and walking away.

“She’s cheerful,” I commented thoughtfully, gauging Steve’s reaction, “For you at least.”

“She just has a little crush on me is all. Me and the other guys from the station come here a lot, and she flirts every time. Her family owns the place.”

“You must never have brought a girl here before, with the way her face dropped when she saw me.”

“I haven’t. And I’ve been coming here with the guys for years, so seeing me with you for the first time was probably not what she was expecting.”

“She’s cute. Why don’t you give her a chance?”

“She’s like 20. I prefer girls that are only 3 years younger than me.” He winked upon saying that, and I fought off a blush.

“Your table is ready,” the girl cleared her throat and we nodded, following her to the back of the restaurant.

“Thank you,” I smiled at her, and she vaguely returned it, walking away briskly. I felt bad for the girl really, I’d been her age with a crush on Steve Harrington and it wasn’t an easy life to live.

“This place is nice,” I observed, taking in the roadhouse-like interior. There were oddities and signs hung up all over, creating a homey atmosphere that you couldn’t find many places.

“I like it,” he shrugged, “The food is good. I remember you loving macaroni, and theirs is some of the best.”

“What if I don’t like macaroni anymore?”

“I don’t think your tastes have changed.”

“You’re right, they haven’t.”

We stared at each other for a second before being interrupted by a booming voice, “Harrington!”

We looked up and there was an older man, probably in his late 40s, staring at us, smile on his mustached face. He was bald, and I hated to say that he looked like a typical fireman. If I saw him on the street, I would assume that’s what he did for a living.

“Hey, Larry,” Steve smiled, getting up to shake his hand and pat him on the back the way guys do.

“Who’s this?” the man, Larry, gestured to me, “You finally found yourself a good woman?”

“This is my friend, Y/N,” Steve introduced.

“Y/N,” Larry nodded in recognition, “I’ve heard that name a time or two. Hello, I’m Larry and this is my wife Jan.” He reached out to shake my hand and I obliged, standing to do so.

“Nice to meet you both,” I grinned as we all sat down around the circular table.

“So Y/N,” Larry began, “I thought you’d moved away?”

“I did, but I’m back now.”

“Back to stay?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Maybe Steve can help you with that choice,” he smirked, a playful air in his voice as he glanced at Steve, who blushed in return, rubbing the back of his head.

“I think he already is,” I smiled shyly, brushing my hand over Steve’s arm, an affectionate gesture to soothe his nerves.

Moments later, the other guy showed up. His name was Brad, and he did the same spill about “Oh! Who’s this?” They both seemed to be in disbelief that I was just Steve’s friend, and I couldn’t blame them much. I knew how our relationship looked to outsiders. You’d have to be stupid not to see it.

“So Y/N, got any boyfriends back in Florida?” Camille, Brad’s wife, asked.

“Not really, no. I was never focused on that, I threw myself into my work.”

“I see,” she nodded, “You’re a pretty girl, though, I can imagine you had someone in college.”

“Cam, stop prying, you’re gonna scare the girl away,” Brad tapped her on the arm in a gentle reprimand.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” I smiled, “There was a couple flings, but that’s about it. I couldn’t really get serious about anyone.”

“Wonder why,” she muttered under her breath, glancing at Steve. “You know,” her voice picked up, “Jan and I have tried to set Steve up and he’s never been interested. Guess that’s something you both have in common.”

“We’ve got a lot in common,” I shrugged. Her questioning was in good nature, but it was still rude and she was, by all means, a cunt. Harsh, but there are no other words for some women.

“Okay, anyways,” Steve changed the subject briskly, “What’s everybody ordering?”

The dinner went smoothly. Once Jan and Camille got to know me, they seemed to take more of a liking to me and their rudeness subsided. None of them ever stopped pushing the me-and-Steve agenda, though, and I was sure they never would. I’d like to say it was frustrating but really, I didn’t mind. From their lips to God’s ears, or whatever.

When it came time to pay, Steve asked that my food be on his check. I insisted otherwise, but he wouldn’t listen and paid for me anyway. That was so like him. He would never let me pay for anything.

We said our goodbyes and left, and naturally, Steve opened the truck door for me. I shot him a smile and a wink, stepping in carefully.

“Where to now?” he asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Wherever you want to go,” I shrugged.

“How about you see my place for a change?” he suggested, eyebrow quirked in his question.

“That sounds good,” I nodded, and sat back as he headed there.

We pulled up at a small house, on the edge of the suburbs, cute and cozy and nestled beside a treeline.

“This is precious, Steve,” I grinned as I skipped behind him to the doorstep, waiting for him to unlock it so I could see the inside. As soon as he did, I was in awe of the decorating, deep maroons mixing with gold accents and shades of dark brown. “Wow. You decorated this?”

“Well, Robin helped a lot,” he chuckled, standing there awkwardly as I walked in and had a good look around.

“I love it,” I smiled genuinely, running my fingers over trinkets here and there.

“Want a tour?” he asked, and I nodded giddily.

He first showed me the front, which consisted of a living room and a kitchen with a small corner for dining. Then he took me down the hall to the small laundry room and small guest bathroom. Finally, he showed me the guest room and ended at his own bedroom.

“I’m gonna change real quick if you wanna just hang out,” he told me, grabbing some clothes from a drawer and walking into the master bathroom, pulling the door to behind him.

I took that moment to greedily take everything in, assessing details and committing them to memory. He had black sheets and a dark maroon comforter set, and I liked how the aesthetic of his entire house matched. It was very Steve, all cinnamon spice and warm ambiance.

My eyes drifted to his bedside table where he had an alarm clock and a couple books, then to his closet with an open door and clothes haphazardly laying on the floor. He’d always been slightly messy, so it was expected, but I still smirked. Then, I finally got to the dresser, which he’d mounted a TV above. On the surface, he had several frames filled with pictures from every point in his life. One of his family, whom he still didn’t see much. One of him and my dad golfing, and I furrowed my brows. “Steve?” I called, and he hummed in response, “Why is there a picture of you and my dad golfing in here?”

“Oh,” he started, “We golf together sometimes.”

I was slightly shocked, but I moved onto the next photo, promising myself I’d ask my dad about it as well for more information. In the frame was a work photo, everyone from the station lined up neatly in their turnout gear and posed with stoic looks on their faces. Well, all except Steve and Eddie, who offered smiles. I guess they didn’t get the memo. Then came a picture of him the kids at their graduation, everyone smiling big. I felt a pang in my heart as I wished I’d been there. Then was a picture of him with Candy thrown over his shoulders and Eddie and Robin making silly faces with him. And finally, in the biggest frame of all, a photo of me.

I gasped lightly. I remembered the exact moment. It was the day of my graduation, and I was looking at Steve, laughing at something he had said. My smile was big and there was a look in my eyes that I only gave him. I appeared positively love struck, as if under a spell, and maybe I was. Maybe I never wasn’t.

“That’s always been my favorite,” his voice came from behind me, and I jumped, dropping the frame but he scooped it up with ease before it could hit the ground.

“I didn’t even know that photo existed,” I honestly stammered, my face heating up. Why did he have a picture of me in his room?

“Your mom took it while you weren’t paying attention. She sent it to me the next day and said she imagines that’s how you’ll look at me when we get married.”

“She what?”

He laughed, “I know, I know. But come on, we were two halves of the same whole back then. What was she supposed to think?”

“How long have you had that in here?”

“I kept it in the drawer in my nightstand for a while. Seeing it hurt too much. But then when I put the picture of me, Eddie and Rob up, it felt wrong not to have you there, so I put it up, too.”

“So you printed it just to keep it in the drawer by your bed?”

“Just to look at when I really needed to,” he shrugged, sheepish and melancholic.

“Steve,” I whispered, “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Yeah, neither can I. You know how many girls saw it and ran off before I even had a chance with them?”

I giggled, the sound lifting the tense mood. He placed it back on the dresser in its rightful spot, “I want to take a newer one of the both of us and put it on my nightstand.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So I can look at you every morning and night. Why else?”

“Stop leading me on, Steve,” I scoffed, staring at my feet.

“I’ve never lead you on,” he countered, his voice soft, his brows furrowed as if I’d said something so incredibly silly.

“Yes, you have, you always have. Since the day I met you at that stupid ice cream shop with those stupid hats, you’ve lead me on. You act like you’re gonna kiss me but never do, you act like you want me but you don’t. You say I’m the most beautiful girl in the world and that you’ll never care more about anyone than you do about me, but it’s not true and I don’t know what you get out of doing all of that but you’ve got to stop!”

I don’t know where the explosion came from. I suppose it was pent up and had always been, bound to come out one way or another. He stood dumbstruck in front of me, mouth agape, eyes wide. I didn’t give him much chance to collect his thoughts and respond, I just ran, finding my way out of his house. He followed me, begging me to stop, to slow down, but I didn’t.

“Leave me alone, Steve,” I barked, tears starting to stream down my face.

“Please just stay,” he sighed, defeated from chasing after me.

“No. I’m walking to my car.” The music shop was close to his house, only a few blocks away from his neighborhood. It would be maybe a 10 minute walk, but I would rather it be a hundred minute walk than spend any more time with him.

I made it pretty quickly, my anger and embarrassment speeding up my pace. Steve had tried to call me, but I sent him to voicemail and put him on Do Not Disturb so I would miss any text messages. I didn’t want to hear his voice or see the pretty words he’d put together to make up for a lifetime of stringing me along. Maybe he had feelings for me, maybe he didn’t, but I was done waiting to see.

I drove home and went straight to sleep, not caring about anything else. Finally, the calls stopped. I guess he decided leaving me alone would be the best thing he could do for a while. Part of me hoped he would show up at my door, but there was so such luck in the world.

Hours later, I was woken up to the sound of pounding on the front door. I furrowed my eyebrows, checking my phone for the time and seeing I had missed 40 calls from Robin and Eddie.

I jumped straight out of bed and ran to answer, seeing Robin on the other side, bouncing frantically on her feet. “You need to come to the hospital with me, now,” She urgently grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her car.

“What’s going on?” I asked, worry flashing through my heart, noting the one person who hadn’t called me. Something happened to him. I knew it.

“Steve got called into work to help fight a huge fire right outside of town. He got stuck inside and the structure collapsed on him.”

My heart dropped straight into my belly, making me ill. “Let me grab my stuff.”

I ran back inside, taking five seconds to change into a pair of flair leggings and a white v neck then slipping into my tennis shoes. The fluffy pajamas I was wearing just weren’t suitable for a hospital, though I did need to rush. I raced out the door, wallet and purse in hand, phone in pocket, and climbed straight into the passenger seat of Robin’s car.

“How bad is he?” I asked her, and she gave me a grim look.

“Well, he’s not good. He’s in critical condition and as far as I know he’s comatose.”

“Oh God,” I sighed, tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe the things I’d said to him. Guilt overwhelmed me and threatened to spill over and break me into a million pieces.

“He was on the way to your house,” she told me, “When they called him and asked where he was and if he could come in, he told them that.”

Suddenly, it clicked. He was on the way to my house. He wanted to set it right. He didn’t want to leave well enough alone. Well enough was never enough for him when it came to me.

“Please hurry,” I sighed, on the edge of my seat.

Finally, she pulled into the parking lot and I jumped out before she even came to a complete stop, running straight to the doors. Eddie was there in the lobby, a small bag and drink in hand, and I guessed he was headed back from the cafeteria.

“Eddie!” I called out, and he turned to me, his face morphing into a sorrowful expression.

“You made it,” he gave a sad smile, pulling me into a huge hug that I didn’t realize I needed.

“How is he?” I asked, “Where is he?”

“Come with me, I’m headed back to him now,” he stated, hand on the small of my back guiding me, “He’s got some bad burns and he bled a lot. They also think he hit his head pretty hard, which is why he’s in a coma. But they think he’ll be ok.”

“When do they think he’ll wake up?”

“They don’t know,” he sighed, and my face fell. He instinctively pulled me closer, trying to soften the emotions I was feeling. Eddie was always that for me. He softened life when it was too hard. I’d forgotten how much I needed that.

He brought me to a waiting room where a few firemen were sitting, but other than them it was empty. Robin followed in after us as we found seats.

“You doing okay?” Larry asked, clapping me on the back gently and staring at me with those same sympathetic eyes Eddie and Robin had given me.

“I am,” I nodded, “Just worried.”

“I know. He’s strong. He’ll be ok. Especially knowin’ you’re here waitin’ on him to get better.”

“I hope so,” I sighed, pulling my phone out to let my parents know what was going on. I left them a few text messages, knowing they’d be too sleepy to wake up and come to the hospital but wanting them in the loop. They still kept up with Steve, they’d want to know.

As the night wore on, everybody kept checking on me. Even firemen I didn’t know were asking me how I was. It was almost like they thought I was his girl or something, the way they fawned over me. I was saddened by his family’s absence. Eddie said he managed to get in touch with them, but they were off on some trip and sent their regards. It was sickening, really, how they could have someone so positively wonderful as a son and not care enough to even try.

The doctor walked in and his eyes landed on me, singling me out.

“You the girlfriend?” he asked, and Robin nodded, pushing me forward. “He’s stable. We’ve treated his burns and all his cuts, and he’s not bleeding out anymore. But he’s still comatose, and we’re still not sure how long he’ll be out for. You’re welcome to come see him though, if you’d like, for a few minutes.”

“Yes,” I nodded frantically.

“Only you can come back, though. At least until visiting hours tomorrow. Is that ok?”

“Uhh…” I hummed, looking around, “Someone else should probably go in, somebody more important.”

“No, you go. Believe me, there’s nobody else he’d want in there,” Eddie gave me a small smile, and everyone nodded slightly in agreement, so I followed the doctor back to a small room.

Steve looked pitiful, more gauze than man, but even in his battered state he was still handsome. The tears I’d been holding in finally fell as I looked at him.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” the doctor excused himself, and suddenly we were alone.

I walked to his bedside, sitting on the side and grabbing his hand, holding it tightly in mine.

“You have to wake up, Steve. Please,” I choked out through quiet sobs, “I need you. I love you, more than anything I love you. Please just wake up.” I have his hand a squeeze. “You’ve always been there for me, and I promise I’ll be here for you. Every day, until they throw me out, I swear. I won’t leave your side, not now or ever. You’re my best friend, you’re the love of my life. I need you to wake up.”

I stared at his lifeless form, listening to the low beep like it was background noise and squeezing his hand once more.

“Please wake up.”

One year before graduation

I don’t know how we convinced our parents to let us spend a full week at the cabin alone. I told mine I was gonna be with Robin, but I had no idea who he said he was gonna be with. Or even if he made up a story at all, considering they didn’t care much.

“It’s so pretty out here,” he smiled at me, dazzling me with how bright it was. So much so I could almost see it reflected on the lake.

“I like it,” I shrugged, “I remember coming here with my grandpa to fish. That was his favorite thing about this place.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighed, coming closer to me and pulling me in closer, “The funeral was nice, though. He would’ve liked it.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” I grinned, leaning into him before pulling away abruptly. “It’s okay, I’ll get over it.”

“I can’t believe he left all this to your family. This is the coolest inheritance ever.”

“I don’t know, he used to tell me there was a monster in the woods that would come get me if I snuck out here alone at night.”

“I won’t let any monsters get you,” he laughed, “We should do something. Make this place ours.”

“Like what?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking around. His eyes landed on a tree, the biggest and prettiest one out there, nestled right by the water. He pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans and hustled over to it, beginning to carve.

I let him do his thing for a moment before he victoriously cheered, “Got it!” And when I read it, it was our names together beside a heart.

“Cute,” I smirked, running my fingers over the love tainted bark, “If people see this, they’re gonna think we’re together.”

“Let them,” he shrugged, “I don’t care. There are worst things they could say than that.”

“Maybe we will be one day,” I mused.

“Probably.”

“We would make a pretty cute couple.”

“And some pretty cute babies.”

“You’ve thought about what our babies would look like?” I full belly laughed.

“I’ve thought about making them, too,” he winked, leaning in to kiss my forehead and then turning back to his handiwork.

“You’re the worst.”

“You mean you haven’t thought about it?”

“What? Knocking boots?”

“Yeah. The horizontal tango. The super nasty.”

“Only when I’m super desperate or bored. Wouldn’t want to rot my brain.”

“Whatever. The point is, our kids would be next level. Grade A genetics. With my hair and your… everything else? Unstoppable.”

“What would we name them?”

“Hmm,” he thought for a moment, leading me to the water and sitting with me on the bank, “I don’t have a preference. Whatever you wanted would be fine.”

“So if I wanted to name our son Eustace and our daughter Muriel?”

“Then we’d get a dog and name it Courage. Dye its hair purple and everything.”

“You’re unreal.”

“Nah, I just want you happy. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

I giggled, slapping his arm. “It’s a good thing we’re not getting married. Those are horrible names for kids.”

“Yeah, I much prefer Donny and Marie.”

“Yeah, we could have a little bit of country and a little bit of rock and roll.”

“Right? They’d start making music right out of the womb.”

“Don’t talk about my womb!”

“Well if I’m putting kids in it then I have a right to talk about it!”

“Your kids aren’t coming anywhere near this womb, Harrington. She’s closed for business.”

“Oh, it’s a she, huh?”

“Of course it’s a she! This thing can push kids out and bleed for days without dying! A man could never!”

“Whatever. I’m going to get my trunks and take a swim. Wanna join me?”

“Of course,” I grinned, letting him help me up and running inside with him. I blushed as we passed the tree. “One day I’m gonna have to explain that carving to my husband.”

“Just tell him you were mine first,” he shrugged, and my smile widened. I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me, but even if he didn’t, I didn’t care. Whatever he felt for me was immortalized in an ages old oak, surrounded by hanging moss and hues of green. Nobody could ever take that away from me.

[shenrickyz]

AKOGARE

WHERE love can be anything, and to jisung, it appears that love is seojun.

FEATURING ─ ksj, pjs, nct dream ensemble. WARNINGS ─ sleep deprivation, overworking, and taking medication. WORD COUNT ─ 5.7k NOTES ─ hi.. back with another coty (couple of the year) post that isn't plot and is simply my detailed appreciation for them despite the fact that one of them is indeed not real 😊😊 i miss seojun.. and also im jisung biased, and also this is incredibly self indulgent, i could write an essay on them, on their dynamic, on random details about their relationship that no one cares for 🙁 i hold them very very dearly to my heart 🫶 if your wondering, no, there will never be no seoji left over to write, nominate them for the coty awards please ☺️

jisung likes to think he's somewhat of a seojun encyclopedia.

it's not that he's obsessive or is constantly grilling the older for spontaneous factoids, jisung simply listens, that really is the staple of their relationship. seojun talks and jisung listens, occasionally it might be vice versa, but it usually never is.

it also isn't as if seojun tells everyone everything about him, if you strip away his natural sense of exuberance, he's a pretty private guy. jisung just has a great deal of knowledge because of their flurry of late night secret sharing as well as the acute focus he seems to have for everything.. well, him.

there's a lot to seojun that is as basic as it is easy to understand. he usually likes darker shades of colors, not exactly black, but he prefers dimmer shades of blue and grey. he adores shades of white reminiscent of snowfall, seojun loves snow, his pupils always dilate as if he's a child seeing it for the first time.

there are many things seojun likes, the word 'like' is a weak term for the passion he has for each of them in particular though. he likes your usual things; strawberries, snow, skiing, renjun's dumb cardigans, motorcycles, penguins, old martial arts movies, charm bracelets, things that any person could easily derive if they simply stare idly for almost hours in the same manner jisung does.

and it's not that jisung enjoys staring at seojun for practically hours on end, he just can't help himself. seojun doesn't have to do anything fantastic, he can just sit around and make a shitty joke that wouldn't usually get laughs, yet jisung would stare fascinated.

it's like an itch, a terrible habit that he just can't get rid of no matter how much he tries. maybe he doesn't want to, it isn't as if he's good at hiding his habit, he simply can't help when it happens.

he knows that seojun knows, seojun is terrifyingly observant, he's clocked things about jisung that he himself doesn't even register for a while. he finds the older weirdly frightening in some senses..

but jisung loves seojun either way.

knowing someone for almost eleven years makes you pretty much susceptible to the specific habits they perform. they range from the usual hair tugging, fiddling with jewelry, scratching at his arms, and always, always pulling all nighters.

which is why today, this prospect is strange.

seojun falls asleep before jisung.

okay, he isn't asleep yet, he's just lying on jisung's lap with his eyes closed, not exactly asleep, but he could slip at literally any time.

jisung first noticed something was up when the older wasn't his usual energetic self after their concert wrapped up. he hung out backstage with his head kept down, uncharacteristic silence taking over him.

"are you okay?" jisung recalls inquiring, lightly nudging him with his shoulder. the older offered a lazy smile as he nodded, a small breath leaving his lips.

"yeah, just a little tired, i'm happy the first day was successful".

jisung was able to believe that for a while,

well not until seojun completely passed out on top of him after they got home.

but seojun isn't asleep just yet, he simply lays there on jisung's lap. the strange exhaustion doesn't go past him, but how does he bring up that it's weird for seojun to be tired? every idol in some way shape or form is tired. jisung is tired currently.

"hey, is everything okay?"

seojun cracks one eye open, clearing his throat. "tired".

"well obviously but you never sleep before me" jisung states, swallowing down nothing as the older simply sighs, keeping himself in the same place. seojun's hair is soft, and jisung can't help but run his fingers through the strands.

seojun's eyes again flutter shut, he makes himself comfortable in the other's lap. jisung continues staring down, and seojun chuckles knowingly.

"can you stop looking at me like that?"

jisung's eyes narrow. "i'm just pretty confused by this.."

seojun rolls over, laying on his back as he stares up at jisung. he pinches the bridge of his nose, again sighing. "it's my new medication" he mutters.

jisung blinks, and seojun waves a dismissive hand in the air. "it tires me out quickly because seorin says my sleeping problems make me look dead".

"i mean.. is she wrong?"

seojun swats a hand his way, and jisung is only graciously able to dodge such a move because he's above the older. "anyway, i'm loopy, can't even feel my limbs".

"is that a side effect?"

"no the side effect is exhaustion" his eyes again flutter closed, no sign of an upcoming smile on his face.

jisung stares as if the older just grew two his heads, but seojun doesn't see that, he simply rolls over again to make himself comfortable lying on the other. "good night".

"you can't sleep on me".

seojun seems offended by such a prospect, he snorts. "just for the time being?"

"let me move you".

seojun would decline to such an offer if this was any other regular day where he was pulling any other regular all nighter, but it isn't, so he silently agrees with a small hum.

how strange.

jisung doesn't exactly ask the correct question, though.

—

seojun loathes taking medication.

it's actually amazing if anyone can get him to swallow pills in the first place. if there is anything the older is, it's stubborn.. and also completely terrified of swallowing pills. 'they make him feel sick' he likes to say.

not even jisung can convince him enough every time, and jisung could pretty much convince seojun into anything with enough pleading and blinking of his huge eyes.

anxiety is the main culprit, he's been on medication for it since before his debut. again, he absolutely hates it. jisung would also say he's scared but he gets extremely defensive about that part because he describes himself as "fearless" (or he's just terrified of no one seeing him as such).

seojun stares at the bottle full of tablets, nose scrunching as he pushes it forward. "i'm not taking this".

there's that usual hikari sigh, the older leveling at seojun with a stare bordering on disappointment.

it was right before we young era that antidepressants came into the mix. seojun took the whole parent approach to it, how could he be depressed when he was easily the cheeriest member? it made absolutely no sense!

jisung could only stare.

"seojun, don't make this difficult".

seojun crosses his arms, stubbornness through the roof. "it'll make me tired! or dizzy! what if i trip during practice?"

"i'm sure that won't be the case".

jisung has never seen the once burning gaze seojun shared with hikari in that moment ever again, he gets a specific kind of obedient when it comes to him in specific, but that day, that day there just seemed to be something different in the air.

"you don't know everything".

it was the bite back that also happened to be the final blow, as hikari sucked his teeth, tugging at his shirt, exhausted out of his mind. "fine, we can talk about it in the morning".

seojun didn't even attempt a glance.

"what's the problem?"

jisung couldn't help but whisper, it felt like he was afraid of something, and he really has no idea what it might've been, but it was a lingering afterthought.

seojun paused for a moment before picking up the bottle, shaking it back and forth. "it's stupid, i don't want to take it".

it's stupid, strange choice of words.

jisung blinked, contemplating his response with a frown stuck to his face. "you're scared".

seojun scoffed, attempting a display of bravery with all his fifteen year old timidity shining through. "no i'm not".

the words were clearly offensive, the knitting of his eyebrows gave him away.

jisung kept his arguments to himself, instead taking a different approach. "you heard hiki hyung, you have to take them".

"i don't want to".

"then how do you expect to feel better?"

"i don't.. it doesn't matter".

it does to me, and to everyone else, i want you to be happy, why don't you?

the words died down in jisung's throat, nothing but his own fear displayed by the glance of his eyes. "please?"

seojun froze, as if almost perturbed by jisung being worried for him. he turned up his nose and decided the stubborn route was the way to go, as if he could ever deny anything jisung handed his way. "no".

jisung knew he was getting somewhere by that point, this time, his 'no' was less assured, a good sign. he braced his hands onto the counter, gaze focused on the bottle. seojun eyes narrowed, his face scrunching up into something ugly. "do you really think i'm gonna just take it because you said please?"

he really gave himself away with that one.

that's when jisung realized his.. privilege, his power over seojun that he didn't exactly check until the older muttered those words that one night. his lips twitched in a manner he couldn't exactly explain. "come on.. please?"

he took both of seojun's hands into his own, watching as the older tensed for a moment. "hey, i'll be here, i can help, i know you don't really like.. this".

there's a loud sigh, seojun immediately averting his gaze, suddenly very interested in the kitchen cupboards. the older contemplated, avoiding eye contact with the bottle of tablets on the counter as well as the maknae.

"can you stop looking at me like that?"

"i'll stop when you take your medication".

seojun crinkled his nose, but the defiance slowly slipped from his expression. bingo, jisung got him right where he needed to.

"just for today, and if it doesn't work then we can go back and ask, i'll go with you even!"

seojun's face finally fell for one last time, and he sighed. "fine",

jisung smiled.

"just stop being so annoying" his smile stayed fixed, even as the other slipped their intertwined fingers out of each other's grasp.

jisung offered a snicker. it didn't exactly matter if he was being 'annoying' anyway, he still got what he wanted.

and maybe if there happened to be the ghost of a grin there, seojun didn't plan on divulging it.

seojun's relationship with affection is usual.

and by 'usual', jisung just means he controls it better than someone like haechan. seojun loves hugs, loves kisses, gift giving, cooking for people, taking care of people (discreetly though), slyly matching items, all the regular.

jisung has never been that keen, but seojun has an astounding effect, as he's found it mundane to receive, and even respond to affection from the older.

jisung can best describe seojun's affection as.. soft. not rough hugs reminiscent of jeno's bone crushing ones, but simply solacing hugs, the kind that the maknae feels as if he could easily fall asleep in.

he longs for hugs from seojun, in the strangest way possible, they erase all of the unease, allow for him to let out a very needed breath of fresh air, let him relax after a days worth of stress.

there's also kisses, cheeks, foreheads, hands, occasionally the side of the neck (though those went out of fashion, jisung isn't sure why he misses them as much as he does), they aren't as regular as hugs or fleeting touches on the waist, but they do come up from time to time.

they always catch jisung off guard, seojun has never exactly been predictable in any way, and spontaneous kisses simply add to that.

but of course, it's not all the time. kissing is really the strangest gesture of affection with seojun, because for all of the love he has towards the members, kissing is as rare as it is minuscule, something seojun has never commented on.

(and don't tell anyone, but jisung just awaits for the next time they randomly spring up on him once again).

seojun looks awfully pretty during dive into you, it's.. it's simply something jisung can't explain. he can't resist the urge to knock their knees together, it's his nudge to something, he isn't exactly sure what 'something' might be, but something is good enough for the vague feeling he has.

they can't exactly whisper while on stage, so they communicate between judging eyes. a sneaky hand coming around to pinch the side of his waist, just barely squeezing a wince out of jisung, but he manages to keep his composure enough that all he receives are strange (yet knowing) glances from the members.

and what are they doing exactly? jisung has no idea, he just knows that it's nice. it's nice to catch a glance at seojun up close, the makeup artists did a good job with accentuating his pretty features, even if jisung feels that he'd be just fine without all of it caking his face. his hair has always been pretty, jisung will fight anyone who brings a pair of scissors near it, it's perfect the way it is. the barrage of golden jewelry wrapped both around his neck and his wrists simply amplify under the overly heated stage lights cascaded above.

jisung admires for a bit too long, so long that he almost forgets a few of his lines. watching him shake back into singing is amusing to seojun, if his cute little smiles aren't enough to sell that one.

jisung lets himself nestle closer, comfortably holding onto the older, whose always been good at multitasking.

"even the moonlight glowing on your cheek is annoying me" seojun sings, fingers softly scratching at the material of his outfit. "i wanna be closer to you than that.." a thumb slides across his cheek. "closer".

his smile remains as he brings jisung's hand closer to press a kiss atop his knuckles, slipping by quickly and missing the maknae's reaction to such a prospect.

his eyes widen immediately as his cheeks betray the serenity he attempts to make face with, mind scrambled. did he just—

seojun busies himself trying to get jeno and jaemin to crack, feigning obliviousness to jisung's current inner turmoil. he manages to avoid glances, trying his best to think clearly about it all.

except he can't not think about it.

the last time seojun kissed jisung in any way was at the ending ment of the dream show, jisung was practically choking on his sobs, just barely able to register the older pressing kisses to his forehead, he was afraid of losing dream, and seojun did the only thing he knew to do, the only thing on his mind being to comfort the youngest.

and yeah, that was like three years ago, curse jisung for keeping track of something like that but he just finds it surprising.

not surprising in a bad way, again, it's about the unpredictability of it all.

maybe unpredictability is apart of his charm.

he itches to bring it up, but he keeps quiet when he glances over at seojun and the older offers his pretty smile. so he allows for silence to consume him until everyone disperses and he can find a comfortable time to talk about it.

"what was that?" he's finally able to ask in the dead of night, face buried into the cotton of seojun's pajama shirt. "earlier during the show.."

seojun raises an eyebrow. "what? you have to be more specific".

jisung's face scrunches, seojun just wants him to say it, the stupid smile on his lips says it all. he shies away from the older's eyes, suddenly flustered as a red tint blushes against his skin. seojun chuckles in his usual all knowing manner, much too acclimated with jisung's particular peculiarities.

the maknae clears his throat, attempting to make his blush unnoticeable. "the kiss.."

"the what? speak up".

jisung grumbles something under his breath, lightly pushing seojun as he crosses his arms. seojun is completely amused, his smile distracting jisung from his lethargic demeanor.

it's terrible, it shouldn't effect him as much. seojun is simply smiling, no makeup, exhaustion behind his eyes, a shirt that's just a little big for him (ordering mistake, he was definitely on an hour of sleep when he decided to get it). jisung is angry, there's no need for him to look so pretty, right before they're about to go to sleep..

"the kiss, on my hand, during dive into you?"

"ohhhh" seojun's feigned confusion is irritating, if jisung wasn't jisung, he would've totally aimed for a punch at the shoulder. "that? your asking me about it now?"

jisung opts to nodding silently. "don't know, guess i was just a little surprised".

"your reactions are priceless, it's so easy to get you red!"

"stop pinching me, you're so—"

"annoying? okay, sure" seojun crosses his arms and lets go of jisung, feigning irritation at the unsaid words. jisung sucks his teeth, drawing a small snort from the other. "anyway, don't act like you didn't blush when i did it".

"just wasn't expecting that" jisung's cheeks remain a shade of red, and if seojun notices, well he keeps his mouth shut. "don't be so full of yourself.."

except seojun really has every right to be full of himself, he's aware of how easy jisung slips, how he simply has jisung wrapped around his finger with just his pretty smile. jisung is starkly giving himself away, or maybe he isn't and seojun is a mind reader like he's always secretly suspected.

"i don't think you of all people should tell me that".

see? mind reader.

seojun hums, practically sensing jisung's thoughts. "..so? are you planning to sleep in my bed tonight?"

jisung sucks his teeth, opting to cross his arms defensively. screw his extensive sleeping problems, he has to be stubborn enough that it seems real. he rises from his spot and trudges over to his own bed, sitting unnaturally in the square middle.

his hands are placed into his lap, and seojun begins silently giggling from where he lays against his pillows. "stop laughing".

"i'm not laughing at you".

what a lie, jisung's lips turn downward as he sinks into the hotel bedding. he ignores the older's prying eyes, hearing yet another snicker.

his face twitches, he has to stay stubborn, he can't fall for his charm just yet. seojun again snorts, crossing his legs as he begins getting busy on his phone, it's only ten pm, much too early for him to go to sleep.

jisung picks at his fingers, usually silence wouldn't be a problem, but silence with seojun literally across from him is a problem. he should be talking his ear off! this is ridiculous!

jisung's facial muscles twitch once again, no he's not pissed off because he's getting ignored, it's just.. he's not an attention seeker okay?

but jisung can't help it, he scrunches his nose and stands from his place, trudging over to seojun's bed and sitting down beside him in a silent display of his clear irritation.

seojun doesn't even have to look up, yet he chuckles anyway. "took you five minutes".

"shut up" the argument is useless, but jisung tries anyway, struggling to not crumble under seojun's gaze. "i have sleeping problems" he whispers, arms again crossed.

seojun snorts, shoulder nudging jisung's. "or you just have a crush on me".

jisung scoffs enough that he's able to convince himself it's real. that would be crazy, what kind of person develops a crush on their bandmate? that would be stupid. "no i don't".

seojun seems shocked by such a revelation. "okay, just don't go back on your words in a few weeks yeah?"

"what are you a psychic too now?"

seojun simply hums, he seems to find that one funny.

the scariest part is that seojun is terribly good at predicting the future.

it's barely a full three weeks later that jisung really registers the words, and even then he attempts to allow for his denial to carry through.

because it's strange with seojun, what would having a crush even mean? would it mean dating afterward? does seojun even..

well jisung shouldn't fixate on that too much, why would seojun even tell him that? it's like most things with the older, it seems he'd prefer to keep it a mystery, endlessly hint yet never discreetly explain anything.

so jisung approaches it with.. well— nothing. he keeps the words tucked away in the deepest corners of his mind.

the thing about this crush is that jisung knows it won't just go away. jisung is aware of the kinds there are, this isn't a cute little crush you have on one of the older members much more akin to admiration (seojun used to have one of those on jeno, he told jisung right before debut that he was so nice he couldn't help it, the crush slowly developed as more of appreciation over the years).

no, jisung knows it's more than that. simple veneration can't encapsulate it all, he thinks it equates to a larger feeling of affection.

istj will be released in a few days, yet jisung can barely focus on comeback preparations or the closing of the tour. maybe it's stupid to be hyper fixating on something you otherwise would've assumed was small, but it's not, it can't be small.

because it can't be small when it comes to seojun. potential mind reading powers aside, he's practically a genius when it comes to stuff like this, jisung's half convinced he's got cameras behind his eyes or something. he has to have the most picturesque memory jisung has ever seen, he picks up on everything, the single twitching of a facial muscle is akin to striking gold. sometimes, he makes jisung feel as if he's going insane.

and the thing is, he knows that seojun knows. it's terrifying how much seojun really knows, he keeps up regular smiles around the members and goes on performing his regular seojun gestures.

yeah, maybe jisung's simply afraid of the imminent threat of rejection, but he fears seojun's own muddled thought process on a much larger scale. it's scary when the one person who practically knows all of your thoughts is so difficult to decode in themselves. he's scared.

but what is there to be scared of? this is kang seojun. his best friend with a history of sneaking out to buy convenience store snacks during practice, writing letters to his future self, getting everyone gifts literal months before their own birthdays, the seojun who jisung can pretty much credit for the fact that he was able to comfortably sleep during the cursed trainee days considering the amount of times he crashed in his bed when in the middle of an insomniac episode.

really, he should be.. glad?

except he's anxious, anxious about the member he should be least anxious about.

and of course, it's like seojun appears with his stupid smile the moment jisung is just the slightest bit confused about pretty much everything.

"are you alright?" seojun is laying upside down, gaze fixated on his screen, yet attention keen on his same aged groupmate. he doesn't even have to look at jisung, it's ridiculous.

"what?"

seojun snorts, tossing his phone despite keeping himself remained upside down. "is it that pre-comeback week anxiety again? you seem on edge".

of course i am, you correctly predicted i had a crush on you and i just realized i've probably been in love with you since if i was fifteen.

jisung cops a glance, a small snicker falling from his lips. seojun turns up his nose, he looks rather cute cascaded the wrong way, hair left sprawled on the couch cushions. "it's nothing.."

"park jisung" if the younger freezes in his spot, then he hopes seojun doesn't pick up on such a fleeting moment. smoothly, seojun flips himself back right side up, straightening his posture and patting the empty spot beside him. "it's too late for excuses, tell me what's bothering you".

it's you, you're bothering me, please stop.

jisung keeps in his spot for a second, finally snapping back into regular human thoughts as he sits as far as he can from seojun, hands placed in his lap as he attempts to avoid eye contact. it's proven unsuccessful, the older's got those burning eyes that he can't just shy away from.

seojun takes the initiative, scooting closer and bumping into the younger, knees knocking together in their usual fashion. he stares for a few, then smiles. "you look amazing in blue".

did he just—

he just changed the subject when he asked the question! what the hell!? jisung is sure seojun is trying at the whole insanity thing, big eyes blinking in pure engrossment at the new hue of his hair. blue is his favorite color, the dimmed shade of jisung's own hair could account for one of his favorite sights of the year.

"blue is your favorite color" he opts to respond, seojun's eyes don't yet flitter, but there's that shine which jisung parrots in his own.

"no it's not".

"should i keep it blue?"

"yep, for the next seventy five years".

"seventy five is excessive" jisung argues, the conversation is stupid, he almost impulsively leans in as a way of shutting him up. "my hair will fall out".

"you're gonna have to be bald anyway, enlistment is a curse".

jisung swears under his breath. "you can't cut your hair, that would be like.. a streak of bad luck".

"or you just love it so much".

jisung bites into his cheek. "didn't say that".

"right, if our stylist noona's cut my hair you would cry".

jisung's gasp is offended by the accusation, the prospect of him tearing up at seojun's hair being cut isn't exactly all that farfetched though.

seojun giggles at the thought, shoving jisung by his shoulder. he looks pretty, it's nothing but a black tshirt and sweatpants, oh jisung hates himself. "you're still such a crybaby".

jisung would typically pout at such a statement, but there's definitely a much more important thing on his mind. "seojunie".

"hm?"

"ithinki'minlovewithyou".

though someone with absolutely no context would think that seojun was clueless, the twitch of his lips alerts jisung to the fact that he heard all of that. he crosses his arms, feigned uncertainty behind his blink.

"you have to speak up, i'm hard of hearing" oh the stupid tone of his voice, jisung wants to die, actually no he doesn't, seojun's laughter is simply so entertaining. jisung's cheeks burn a bright red, and seojun just barely bites back a snicker at the sight. he keeps himself sat up, arms remaining crossed, gaze completely focused.

jisung clenches his fist, oh he wants to punch him so bad, seojun is stupid, so stupid. you like him though, you like him so much, isn't he adorable?

"i think you were right.." jisung mumbles. "i have a crush on you.."

seojun allows for the silence to consume the room for a moment, and jisung again thinks it'd all be much easier if he just fainted onto the floor. the older is staring a bit too hard, his eyes hold that look which is indecipherable, but that's when jisung captures it, the gleam of pure affection, fondness, love, it's adorable.

"aww, do you jisungie?"

"you aren't supposed to make fun of me.."

seojun again laughs, as if jisung's feelings are amusing. "i'm not! you're just so cute".

jisung opts to burying his rapidly heating face in seojun's lap, the older bringing his hands to cart through his hair. "it's embarrassing.."

"really? now i'm offended".

jisung peaks from his frankly terrible hiding spot, blinking at seojun with enough chagrin accompanying his glance it gets his point across. "you know that's not what i mean.. it's just—" jisung can't even help himself anymore, he shies away from the older's eyes insistently. "how did you even know?"

seojun snorts, jisung still feels as if there's amusement behind his eyes. "because you're so obvious, think you were probably the last one to find out, everyone knows already".

"don't say that".

"okay, i won't.."

seojun's eye twitches momentarily, his fingers coming to poke at jisung's stomach, giggling at the knee jerk reaction from the other. his lips curve upward, it's simply so easy, jisung is simply so easy.

jisung keeps his hands clutched at his front, a glower that is so gentle it can barely even be considered threatening.

seojun's hands find purchase on jisung's shoulders, a smile tugging at his lips. "you know, i like you too.."

jisung pouts, nothing substantial though. "it would be scarier if you didn't".

seojun laughs, head tipping downward and eyes fluttering closed. "you knew i wasn't going to reject you".

"not really".

jisung doesn't say more, simply lays down onto seojun, legs coming up to his chest as he allows for the other to continue his hair stroking ministrations. his cheek presses into seojun's leg, but then he has to ask one more thing;

"does this mean dating?"

he isn't sure why his stomach drops at the responding look, seojun's taps on the couch, jisung passes him his phone. "i would hope so, unless you want us to become like hiki and jeno hyung".

jisung crinkles his nose, shuffling upward. "no, i like dating i like.. yeah, it's all good".

seojun's smile reaches his eyes, it's very pretty. "you better keep your hair blue".

the whisper earns a giggle, sometimes, jisung enjoys noise, or maybe just noise from seojun is what he enjoys.

the thing about dating your best friend is that nothing exactly changes.

it's not a negative prospect really, jisung finds that he really just enjoys the label. boyfriend is much cuter than he originally expected, though dating has always been the shallow end of the reservoir, jisung doesn't exactly think it's bad.

seojun, with all of his experience, is also still fairly new to the idea, jisung guesses he's just better at making sense of it all.

they don't say it in any way, but they're sure the members have picked up on their sudden change of mode. jisung is sure seojun hasn't told any of them, considering he couldn't keep a secret of that state for that long, he'd probably blurt it out in a moment of guilt.

the members are observant enough that they don't have to verbally reach for an answer, just silently congratulating them on their newly acquired relationship.

the affection remains mundane, hand holding simply lingers, stares get much too love like and jisung has to remind himself that he can't just kiss seojun in front of everyone (well he can, but he'd rather be smart with his decisions).

it's funny, but it's also cute, jisung likes it.

he's midway through monitoring their performance when the older decides it's his time to suddenly spring out of nowhere, arms coming around him and chin placed on his shoulder. jisung doesn't have to glance backward to know who it is, simply his manner of affection is recognizable in its all.

"been here for a few minutes.." he mumbles, jisung hums as he keeps the ipad at a steady angle, gaze stuck on the repetitive choreography. "something wrong?"

"wanna make sure we're in sync" jisung replies, the older simply keeps them pressed together as his silent response to that one.

"we're gonna do another take anyway".

"reassurance".

when jisung glances at him, seojun is just the slightest bit closer, and he shyly retreats, despite their history, jisung is still mousy at the depiction of much closer affection, it's new. seojun blinks, feigned innocence behind his pretty smile.

jisung so badly wants to, but he'd rather keep the both of them safe. he comes to intertwine their fingers, a quick glance to the other members. "there are cameras" he whispers, he assumes this sight will be taken terribly out of context.. if there even is correct context here.

seojun snickers. "what? did you think i was going to kiss you or something?"

jisung's cheeks burn a bright red, denial instantly replacing his blood. "no! i just.. people might get the wrong idea".

seojun's smile is much too contagious, and jisung feels there's an evident lack of warmth when his arms slip from his waist. his hands come behind his back, clasping together in a small sound. "i see".

"don't pout i'm not rejecting you!"

his fake sobs draw glances from a few of the members. "you don't love me!"

jisung sighs, the over-dramatization of his emotions is its own double edged sword, it can be cute when it isn't against him. he pouts himself, and seojun can barely contains his giggles. "aww, can't you forgive me?"

seojun instead keeps up the attitude.

it isn't until the near end of recording studio choom that they interact again, sliding down the wall, jisung scoots closer and leans against seojun, opting to begin the affection this time.

seojun is listening to music, one of his eyes opening to see jisung. the younger has his cheek pressed to his shoulder, the rest of the members mumbling fading into the background, the other blinking. "hi".

"hi" he whispers back, his gaze focused on the earbuds. "what are listening to?" he inquires, just the slightest bit tired.

seojun doesn't answer verbally, simply removes one of his earbuds and offers it to jisung, who hesitates before allowing him to do so.

jisung again snakes his hand downward, intertwining their fingers. "what song is this?"

"akogare by taeko onuki" he states, jisung's eyebrows furrow, he seems to sense the querying movement. "hiki hyung recommended it".

"it's.. nice".

"it's not your thing".

jisung chuckles at seojun's snort, his eyes narrowing. "still, it's nice".

seojun raises an eyebrow, clicking his tongue. "you aren't just saying that because you like me?"

jisung stares for a moment, his eyes are very pretty, the music eventually fading into its own background noise. he takes a moment to think, not because he doesn't know his answer, but because he enjoys admiring seojun. "no, it's nice, i like you for more than just music taste".

seojun hums, tilting his head, maybe just a slight fracture in his usually tranquil image, the beginnings of a blush spreading across his face. "keep your hair blue forever" he spontaneously speaks.

jisung shrugs. "i'll think about it".

he's not lying, really, he isn't.

[respectthepetty]

So, I saw your post about the JoongDunk, PondPhuwin, ForceBook ultimate gym bros bl. And I had a very important question.

If, hypothetically, gmmtv were to actually make this a thing. What would you want their color coding to be like? Even, how would you want their color coding to change as the fall in love?

Feel free to be as specific or generic as you like! I'm just very curious about the idea 👀

I have eighty million things to do, Anon, yet here I am, excited to answer this question, immediately! *pushes all my responsibilities to the side* There are no pictures because I'm being wild today and doing this from my WORK COMPUTER!

First, the premise of my Gym Bros BL, tentatively called

Flex Appeal

*I'm using the actors' names, but this is about their characters, not them. Force owns a gym. He has trainers Dunk, Joong, and Pond. Book and Phuwin work together at a food marketing company, so they eat a lot of snacks throughout the day. Phuwin wants to start working out and drags Book along. Dunk and Joong are super competitive, but it's all really them flirting with each other. Pond instantly likes Phuwin, but Phuwin thinks he is nothing but a meathead until he realizes Pond is super smart and kind. Book likes Force and starts bringing him tasty treats from the office during the workout sessions since he notices Force never leaves to eat properly. We could have cameos from other people who workout or companies trying to market their food. We could have Force trying to keep his business open, and Book helping him with marketing. WE COULD HAVE GYM QUEERS!

Now for the colors:

Dunk and Joong - Red Rascal and Green Guy. Dunk has the Red Rascal look aka beautiful. His character would always be up to some tomfoolery, and Joong as the chill Green Guy would always be down to join in on the shenanigans. I call them my troublesome tykes for a reason, and I think their natural personalities would easily lead to characters who are the matchmakers of the group too. Like constantly setting up situations for the other pairs to fall in love while unknowingly falling in love themselves.

Pond and Phuwin - Pond is a Blue Boy in this imagined series. He falls quickly for Phuwin and is devoted to winning him over. He is good with his hands and very intelligent when it comes to building, like say for props for an ad that Phuwin needs help with. Phuwin on the other hand is a Yellow/Orange Oddity. He is creative and works in the visuals area of the marketing department. He likes to talk and Pond likes to listen even if Pond doesn't understand it all. He wears glasses.

Force and Book - Give them the dark versus light dynamic. Force is a Brooding Boy, in black most of the time because his life has been rough, which is easy since it'll be black tanks, black shorts, black car. Yum. Then, Book is the Happy Human in his cream and white cardigans with khaki pants or some basic boy attire. Force will teach Book to take risks, and Book will open Force's heart!

Cameos:

Mix works at the company with Book and Phuwin, but he is a higher-up who we see three times. He mentions his boyfriend goes to this gym nearby, which gives the boys the idea to try it out.

Earth is the boyfriend who shows up occasionally at the gym. He never speaks. I just need to see his back tattoos.

Fourth and Gemini can play baby interns at the company who just randomly pop in with the wrong orders of coffee and the wrong mail for people.

Neo is an asshole from another rival gym who is a meathead and Phuwin's ex (see what I did there people who have been around since Neo x Phuwin?).

Louis works in the IT department, and we see him exactly once when Phuwin has to go ask for help with his work computer, and Louis notices an old picture of Phuwin with Neo on it.

Papang is the guy constantly getting hit on at the gym. It's a running joke throughout the show, but in the second-to-last episode, his HUSBAND shows up to drop off his phone since he left it at home, and it's revealed to be Mark, who appeared earlier in the season as an up-and-coming baker who the company is trying to woo, which is why Papang works out all the time since he loves his man's baked goods. Neither wears the ring because rings should not be worn when working out or baking.

Book convinces Mark to come out with a line of healthy after-workout snacks, Force is used as the model, and his gym sees a rise in customers since his gym is the only place to get these snacks, and EVERYONE WINS!

I have spent a lot of time thinking about my gym bros bl. I need it like I need air. These men are too built to let it go to waste. Film them in a gym. Just let the camera roll and half of the footage would be just them bs-ing with each other. It's a win-win for everyone involved including the audience.

[siriannatan]

Just Go With Your Feelings - Chapter 1

Manhwa inspired me once more, Tree Without Roots in this case (very non-con and I'm shocked I'm still sticking to reading it...) I'm not going that far here but there is some pushiness and lack of consent

Whip never expected he'd get involved in an accident with an old acquaintance from high school days.

Yet here he was, sitting in a hospital with minimal damage to him. Waiting for Scott S. Major, a man everyone had a crush on, literally the perfect guy you see in high school TV dramas, gets discharged from the hospital after they were involved in a traffic accident.

Jimmy was going to have a field day making fun of fWhip.

But it wasn't like it was his fault. Scott just suddenly ran into the road. If fWhip didn't react as fast as he did he'd be dead. But fWhip was planning to take responsibility anyway.

“How are you feeling?” He asked once he was allowed to sew Scott.

“Mentally or physically?” Scot joked dryly. “Both feel like shit, in case you're actually interested.”

fWhip pushed the urge to punch Scott down with force. He was injured. With a broken leg. “Doctors say you can leave today,” he said instead. “Need a ride?”

Scott laughed. “The guy who hit me with his car is offering to be my chauffeur? That's grand,” there was something in his eyes that made fWhip want to grab him and never let go.

“I'm… I'm just offering, no need to be an ass about it,” he sighed, pretending to look away. Actually, he was tracing where Scott was looking. 

The rooftop.

“You know what, just because I think it'll be funny, sure, why don't you drive me to my hotel,” Scott scoffed but froze as soon as the last word left his mouth. 

“Dickhead,” fWhip muttered under his breath. At least now Scott was looking at him and not the rooftop. “I'll wait outside while they do the last checkups and you change,” he said and left, hands deep in his pockets. 

Why was Scott staying in a hotel? Delay in house hunting? Didn't want to leave much hassle behind? Was avoiding someone? fWhip could not help but wonder. The first time in a long time that he regretted quitting smoking. He needed something in his mouth before he went crazy so he got some candy from the vending machine.

On second thought he got some for Scott too. Just to be funny or whatever.

“Sweets?” Scott blinked as fWhip offered him a handful of candy. 

“I was bored,” fWhip shrugged but the stick from the long-gone lollipop was still in his mouth. Maybe he shouldn't form a habit around them but it was quite relaxing.

Scott shrugged back and shoved the candy into the pocket of his cardigan. Why was he in a white suit before? Why did he have a change of clothes on him? 

fWhip made sure to walk slower than Scott could at the fastest. Couldn't have the injured overworking himself, no?

“You're as much of a jerk as you used to be, maybe more,” Scott scoffed once in fWhip's car.

“Must be stress from work getting to me,” fWhip chuckled. No way, he enjoyed destroying cases Jimmy built up so diligently. “You need a place to stay?”

“Wha… No? Why would I?” frustrated Scott had a weird feeling waking up deep inside fWhip.

“You told me to take you to a hotel,” fWhip deadpanned back, hoping it would kill it. “I'm barely home anyway,” he added with a shrug.

“And why exactly are you never home?” Scott asked cautiously. Good, he wasn't completely inside his head.

“I'm a lawyer, and the cops are trying really hard to bury my latest case, I'm trying my damndest to blow it open right back in their faces,” fWhip grinned, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

Scott hummed and stared ahead. “You're actually a pretty decent driver, aren't you?” He chuckled when they stopped outside his hotel. To his credit, it wasn't a bad hotel.

“So? Are you staying here or should I go up and help you pack? Or just my number in case you change your mind?” Or need someone to talk to, he didn't say that part out loud but hoped it was implied enough. He was pretty sure Scott would punch him if he did.

Scott blinked. “You weren't kidding? You know what, sure. But it probably won't be for long, I'm currently looking at houses in the area,” he shrugged. He was obviously lying. Probably hoping that fWhip was secretly a serial killer. 

Whatever. fWhip followed Scott inside and into his room and helped him pack his suitcase. He didn't comment, even when packing more personal items. Scott was content to just sit there.

“So law? I would never expect you'd end up as a lawyer,” he chuckled from the couch.

“I get to stick it to the lazy cops, it's pretty satisfying,” fWhip shrugged, not really caring he was packing Scott's underwear.

“So you're a top? Not at all surprising,” there was Scott's usual humour he remembered, just outright sexual comments and innuendos. Must have been feeling better

“Who knows, I don't like sharing a bed before a second date,” fWhip effortlessly tossed back. Two can play this game. Not like fWhip was ever interested in anyone. Be it a girl or a guy.

Scott shockingly didn't have much in his room for a guy who was in the middle of moving. He wasn't… Not a fWhip issue, so he wouldn't even think about it. “That's all?” He asked while scanning the room.

“I think so, if I'm forgetting anything it's probably not important,” Scott shrugged and with some struggled up to his feet. Stopping fWhip when he tried to help. “No second date yet,” he grinned once finally on his feet. 

fWhip just sighed and followed him out of the hotel. The staff were very nice to Scott from what he has overheard. Like nicer than they were to other guests. Well, Scott's family was pretty famous. 

The drive to fWhip's apartment was pretty uneventful aside from Scott's constant praising of his driving skills. Why was Scott so fixed on it? fWhip had no clue. “If you weren't such a good driver I probably wouldn't get away with some bruises and a broken leg,” Scott chuckled as he clambered out of the passenger seat once at fWhips building.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Stop talking about me driving, it's creepy,” fWhip rolled his eyes. It was getting mildly annoying.

“Kill joy,” Scott pouted as he followed fWhip and his suitcase to the elevator.

Shockingly Scott behaved pretty nicely as fWhip prepared dinner. Sitting at the table as he was told, grimacing at his phone before shoving it into his pocket.

It was after dinner that problems started.

fWhip was cleaning the table. Just brought some dishes to the sink, and as he turned around suddenly he was crowded to the sink counter by Scott. His injured leg between fWhip's. Face dangerously close to his ear. 

“Were they true? The high school rumours about you?” Scott wondered, his voice tickling fWhip's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“You remember that nonsense? Obviously, it's not,” fWhip scoffed. He refused to think about it. It was all in the past. It didn't matter anymore. 

So why were his hands shaking?

“No need to be shy,” Scott chuckled, his voice dangerously low. Why was fWhip blushing? He could see it pretty clearly in the window. “Want to know a secret? I was supposed to be married today. Yup. He ditched me though. Shame, if he didn't we'd be having sex and my leg would be fine,” Scott suddenly confessed, forehead resting on fWhip's shoulder.

“My condolences?” fWhip said, unable to control how much his voice was shaking. “I'm not into guys though so if you could step back and like… go shower while I finish cleaning?” He was rambling. It was distracting from the situation in his pants.

“Are you sure?” Scott chuckled, his knee pushing up slightly. 

fWhip had to bite his lips to stay quiet. “Absolutely,” he said, shocking himself with how steady his voice was. “I’ll forget this happened so don't worry about it,” he said, escaping the proximity of the counter as soon as Scott took a step back.

Scott was silent as he went to the bathroom. And fWhip could finally let out the breath he was holding in. What the hell? He thought looking down at the obvious problem in his slacks. He never got hard this fast or easily.

Bah. The few times he tried dating girls in college he couldn't get it up at all. And all Scott had to do was whisper seductively about his problems for it to go up? What… No way. fWhip refused to believe it had anything to do with his guest. It was just a while since he did anything remotely… yup. Had to be that and the frustration with Jimmy's antics.

With a few more deep breaths he finished cleaning and set the dishwasher going. He didn't wait for Scott to be done. He said himself he'd be fine to shower alone. So fWhip went to the master bathroom. 

Or tried but it would seem he lost time while thinking and the guest bathroom door opened just as he was about to walk past and out went Scott. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Hair mostly dry. Lips curled up with a smirk when he spotted fWhip.

“Trying to jump me in the shower, Mr Lawyer?” It shouldn't have sounded as attractive as it did.

“No, merely passing by. And I told you to stop that,” fWhip protested, scowling at the mere thought.

“Okay okay, I'm sorry, but you know you're still…” Scott didn't sound sorry at all as he glanced at the obvious bulging in fWhip's pants.

“I'm aware, and it has nothing to do with you,” fWhip stopped him, maybe a bit too abruptly, and pushed past. He was too tired to wonder who the hell he offered his guest room to.

“There's nothing…” Scott started.

“I know, there's nothing wrong with being gay. But I'm not gay so drop it,” fWhip scowled. The thought of kicking Scott out crossed his mind but he'd feel like absolute crap if he did.

“Fine, I won't tell any you got hard because of a guy, or that it twitched when you saw me naked,” Scott sighed, raising his free of a crutch arm. A slight smirk was still tugging on his lips though.

“Good night,” fWhip mumbles just because he was raised to be nice and hid away in his bedroom. Glaring down at his crotch. He groaned as it twitched when the image of Scott shirtless crossed his mind against his will just because the guy whistled while passing his door.

Grumbling fWhip practically tore his suit off on his way to the master bathroom. Why did he need an apartment with two bathrooms? He didn't, he just liked the location.

He took an ice-cold shower. He hated cold showers. But he was not dealing with the issue at hand. Not with Scott in the apartment.  It with Scott being the reason behind it. He just had to wait and he'd be fine.

Scott woke up with a pained groan to the noise of his phone ringing. Maybe charging it wasn't a good idea. “It better be important,” he hissed after seeing Owen was the caller.

“Scott, really sorry I couldn't be there yesterday…”

“Don't bother, he ditched me. Why are you calling me at seven in the morning?” Scott cut him out. It was too early and fWhip left him with blue balls so he was a bit annoyed.

“I'm being accused of murder. And the prosecution is not buying your bachelorette as an alibi since my phone completely died, like all data gone…” Owen completely panicked.

“Calm down, I should have like a million on my phone. Who's the prosecutor in charge?”

“... Jimmy,” Owen barely whispered. Scott grinned.

“You got a lawyer?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“fWhip? You know back from…”

“I know, I kind of accidentally walked under his car yesterday, don't worry I got away with a broken ankle and some bruising, I'll live. Tell him I'll come with photos but not my name, okay? Make it a surprise,” Scott's morning was getting a bit better.

He cut the call as Owen profusely thanked him. He had a couple more calls to make.

fWhip was shocked to see Scott up and ready when he was leaving. With no breakfast. His client had finally found someone to collaborate his alibi. “Awake already?”

“Would the police station be on your way to work?” Scott asked after greeting him.

“I'm actually going there. Why?” Was he thinking about reporting yesterday's accident? They had an amicable agreement after all.

“A friend of mine needs some support there,” Scott shrugged. There was no way… there absolutely was.

“Fine, but I have no time for breakfast,” fWhip sighed. He'd scream if Scott was the alibi.

“No problem, I'll eat after dealing with that,” Scott grinned mysteriously. fWhip groaned it was going to be a long day.

[whichcouldmeannothing]

paper rings snippet!! (teachers!spiderdads)

my exams are hell!! but finally thank god i have a break

have something from me <3

chapter 2 snippet :D

not exactly a spiderdads clip but it has loser Miguel so

"You're really bad at this," Lyla says.  

She sits at his table, an iced something or whatever in her hands. Miguel wished she went with something more normal as a greeting, like hello, or good morning. Or. maybe just a nice shirt Miguel, is that stain from Gabriella's lunch you prepared this morning? Even that would be better.   

"What did I do?" He hasn't even done anything this morning. He walked in for a coffee five minutes ago, he literally has not been in school long enough to have things to be judged for. 

Early mornings are never wasted in Brooklyn Visions. Keeping up the reputation of a nerd school, students have already been here before Miguel showed up. Despite the fact that they have dorms here that allow them to stay in and sleep more, kids are in this campus as soon as the security guard turns on the lights.  

Today is no exception, and many students are already here. They're all poring over notes or rushing homework. Some people here may just be waiting for their friends, but there's an air of seriousness in this high school. It’s what Miguel likes so much about Visions, the fact that there’s not too much nonsense from the students.  

But God is cruel, and his nonsense comes from the white-cardiganed woman who flashes her pink glasses at him.  

“We haven’t seen you at lunch in a long time, Miguel. But you’re not even that good at being his friend.” He drinks his coffee, and somehow the jolt of caffeine doesn’t even hit him. He might not have had to make friends since he was in his twenties, but he isn’t horrible, alright? 

“Not ‘alright’, it’s pathetic. You just let him talk at you, and you respond every three minutes to him. You get him food, but you’re functionally a babysitter.”  

“If you want him to feel cared for, you have to know him. And he has to know you.” Peter knows enough about Miguel after a week of lunch. He knows Gabriella is in a soccer league, she goes swimming. She likes My Little Pony, and that the rainbow dash on Miguel’s table is from her.  

It registers in Miguel. Other than his divorce. He doesn’t know anything about Peter. He listens to stories about his students and the news that appears on his Facebook, but that’s all. Peter gets him coffee, and he asks about his life and his kid. He even knows that he has a brother. Only Lyla knows that (And sends embarrassing photos to him, God.)  

“If you actually want to make him less depressed about his life, you have to make the effort to care.” He is trying, you know? He looks down and watches his reflection on the plastic blue table. He keeps his head down when he asks, “So, what do I do?” 

“Learn something about him. Try a bit harder, alright.”

new chapter coming out tmr/saturday!! love u all :D thank u for all ur support guys <3

[aylivaa]

ᝰ VIER : EVENING WALK m.list • next chap

Word count: 626

Warnings: none.

Shortly after midnight, Mira had unpacked all the boxes and the contents. Her mother had been at work for a few hours and Elias was already asleep, which is why she took the time to take a short walk to explore the surroundings.

Outside it was still pleasantly warm, only sometimes a sweet summer wind blew, running through her long hair, and to make sure she didn’t catch a cold, she took a thin brown cardigan with her, locked the door several times and then hurried down the stairs.

Outside in the yard, a few children were still playing football, and Mira wondered if this was normal here. No one seemed to be in a hurry or be afraid that the mother would call them immediately home. There was a certain calmness here in this massive restlessness, and she kinda liked that.

Only a little later did she notice the few women sitting in the dark on white plastic chairs and chewing on something that resembled the sound of sunflower seeds. They talked about something excitedly and sometimes would point their fingers towards the children playing football.

When they noticed Mira, they nodded to her and waved, then they continued to talk about something and ate their sunflower seeds.

There was actually not much to see in the area she had thought. If she had previously left the apartment in Herne for a short walk, she could just walk up the street and browse around the various shops, but here, in the apartment in Essen, there were only high-rise buildings everywhere.

Some were even bigger than the one in which she lived, and she wondered if the elevators in these high-rise buildings fell out as often as theirs. In the meantime, she could only hear the children muffled from a distance, and the lights were also getting darker and darker.

Until a few minutes ago she was still doing quite well, but suddenly with every step she took, she was plagued by discomfort and felt how uncomfortable she was with every step.

Evening walks had been a routine to the young girl for several years, and she took advantage of almost every opportunity to get some fresh air when her mother left the house again for a Night Shift in the hospital.

But she didn’t know if it was because of the lack of environment, or because of the lack of street lights here, she suddenly felt uncomfortable.

With a slow movement, she wrapped her cardigan a little more tightly around herself and turned in place to walk back home until she heard muffled voices behind her and paused.

She could not decipher what exactly the person said, but the dull sound, and the way the words echoed seconds later seemed incredibly familiar to her. She paused and tried to imagine from which direction exactly the sound came from when she suddenly saw a figure walk towards her.

It was a guy.

Mira took a few steps back and felt the fear in her asking her to run as fast as she could, but on the other hand she couldn’t move a single muscle. She just stopped there without stirring until the shadow approached her more and more and she noticed that it was not one man, but two.

They shouted at each other a little, and the closer they got, the clearer their words and tone became. They seemed to be joking about something.

Mira frowned and tried to recognise how she knew the voice until it made click: she heard his voice this morning, right after the first lesson, when Adelina had come to her.

It was Zayne.

And he walked directly up to her.

Mira didn’t hesitate for another second and ran home.

» 🤍 «

— 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 : @avens0nly @dxmoness @lxdymoon0357 @reneezsq @roseadleyn @yoghurtsan

[neopuff]

title: elaborate plans word count: ~5200 ship: six/holiday summary: Holiday wants Rex to go to a museum. Six sees an opportunity. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48731992 references to: "there's always next time" and "only you"

"You're going to New York City?" Holiday asked, not sure if she'd heard correctly.

Six nodded, pointing a thumb behind him. "Knight heard some rumors going around - something that sounds a lot like one of Breach's portals was seen in Central Park yesterday."

She nodded, but was pouting slightly, and Six couldn't deny that he was curious about what was on her mind.

"...do you want to come along?"

"No, no," she answered quickly. "I just…well, I was thinking."

Six didn't respond, knowing she needed time to finish her thoughts.

"Rex is almost eighteen now and…he's never been to a museum. Not that I know of, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And?"

"And-?!" Holiday glared at him. "I've been giving him a basic education from here, but he's not getting a lot of formative experiences that a boy his age should be getting!"

Six stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Doctor, he's been all over the world. He fought a living mummy. I don't think he's missing out on much by not seeing collections of paintings and sculptures."

"I just think it'd be good for him," she added as a final point. "You don't have to take him, but I'd appreciate it if you did. The Met is right there."

With that, she turned back to her computer and continued typing whatever she'd been working on before they started their conversation. 

And Six was left with a quandary.

He didn't want to go to a museum. Not particularly, anyway. And he didn't think Rex would want to go to one, either. But that was Holiday's point, he supposed. Rex should try it because everyone should try it at least once and have the experience of being in one. Maybe Rex would really enjoy it and if they didn't try, he'd never find out.

It would also be nice to make Holiday happy, of course. She seemed like the type of person who really enjoyed going to museums and thought they were a good way to spend an afternoon. Maybe she’d go by herself, or maybe she liked to go on…dates.

Dates.

Six stood there for another few moments, considering. There were a lot of moves he could make at that moment and he wanted to make the right one.

"You should come with us."

She looked up at him. "Six, I didn't mean to-"

"I've never been to the Met, Doctor. I wouldn't be a good guide on my own."

Holiday looked suspicious for a brief moment, then gave him one of those rare, brilliant smiles that she seemed to save only for the closest people in her life. Six felt honored to be among the few to see them.

"When are we leaving?"

"Take off in ten minutes."

"Make it fifteen - I need to get changed."

x

"What? Why would we go to some dusty old museum?" Rex whined, leaning against the inner wall of the small scout ship they’d borrowed from the hangar.

"Dr. Holiday wants you to try something new," Six answered, arms crossed over his chest. "You've been stagnating over the last two months. I can tell you're getting bored with fighting humans in badly-made robot suits."

"Well, yeah, sure." Rex waved his hands around. "But I can't exactly fight anything at an art museum. How's that supposed to help?"

"Try to have an open mind."

Rex stuck out his tongue childishly. "I bet you don't wanna go, either. Did Holiday bat her eyelashes at you or something?"

Six glared at the kid and stuck his hands into his pockets. He was about to respond, but then Holiday walked up to the ship and distracted him. She wasn't wearing anything particularly notable, but something about seeing her in casual clothes with her hair down always caught him off-guard.

She was wearing a long blue skirt, white top, and light blue cardigan. It looked very pretty on her - pretty enough that Rex elbowed Six in the arm and whispered something about eyelashes again.

"Sorry I took so long. Are we ready to go?" Holiday asked with a guilty smile.

The boys nodded and Holiday walked past them to take a seat - Rex gave his mentor two thumbs up as she passed and Six wondered if this was a huge mistake.

x

"Okay, sure, I didn't get that spine-tingly feeling that I always get when Breach is nearby. And sure, Holiday didn't read any nanite activity with her little monitor thingy. But I still don't think that means we can give up and waste the rest of the afternoon here."

Rex spread out his arms and motioned around himself. He and Six were surrounded by civilians, which was a strange situation for the both of them. Exhibit entrances were to their left and right, up the stairs, around the corners…it was an endless maze of art and history.

Six sighed, hands twitching in his pockets. He did not enjoy being surrounded by so many people. Even if he and Rex used their Providence clearances to come in without going through the metal detector, he still felt like they were vulnerable. "Think of this like a…field trip."

"Kids go on field trips with their friends, not their parents."

Rex slammed his mouth shut after that and looked away from Six, feeling awkward. Everyone knew there was a sort of weird, parental relationship between him and Six and Holiday, but calling them his parents felt like too much. They were his family, sure, but they weren't his mom and dad. They were his…something else. Something just as important.

"...I suppose that's true," was Six's short response. He had some of the same thoughts as Rex, and he wasn't sure how he felt about all of it, either. Sometimes he looked at Rex like a son, and he knew Holiday did the same. But it was complicated. Rex was still learning more about his real parents every day and they didn’t want to confuse him or get in the way of that.

Holiday was buying their tickets and they were supposed to patiently wait for her to get back, but Six was itching to start his master plan of the day. He looked over to the ticket area to make sure Holiday wasn't in hearing range and then looked back down at Rex.

"If I give you twenty bucks, will you run off as soon as Holiday hands you your ticket?" he asked quietly.

"Huh?" Rex glared up at him. "Why?"

Six just stared as a response - his mouth a thin, straight line.

The realization hit Rex like a bag of bricks. "Oooohhhh, you don't care about me getting cultured - you just want an excuse to do something romantic with Doc Holiday!"

"Rex."

"Who knew you had it in you, Six?" Rex said cheekily, a bright smile on his face. "You could've said something earlier! I would've been way more on-board with this plan if I knew I could just leave-"

"No leaving. You're still going to look at art and learn to appreciate it."

"Aw, come on, Six! Is this any way to ask a guy a favor?" Rex whined again, though his eyes were drawn away from his mentor by a small group of girls wearing t-shirts that said 'Glendale High Seniors'. "Maybe I could be convinced to stay, actually…"

Six followed Rex's line of sight and frowned. "What happened to Circe?"

Rex pouted and quickly shook the blush off his cheeks. "Um…Circe and I are kind of keeping it casual while she works out some family stuff. It's complicated."

"Sounds like it," Six said, not really caring. "Do we have a deal?"

"Make it thirty!"

Six exhaled loudly through his nose and quickly grabbed two twenties from his wallet, handing them to Rex reluctantly. "Bring me ten back."

Rex laughed and stuffed the bills into his pocket. "We'll see!"

At that moment, Holiday returned with their tickets and handed one to each of her boys. She looked extremely happy and they both knew she was ready to infodump about her favorite things in the museum if they gave her the opportunity. "Are you guys ready?"

"Aaaactually, Doc - Six gave me a great idea!" Rex said with a devious smile that made their resident ninja very nervous. "I'm gonna follow around that high school group and try to get a normal teen field trip experience with them, okay?"

"O-oh." Holiday looked disappointed for a second, but she followed that up with a smile. "That's a great idea, actually. Just text one of us when you're done, okay?"

Rex gave her a two-finger salute and quickly ran off, easily falling in line with the group of students who seemed extremely excited to hang out with a famous person.

Holiday sighed and glared at Six, hand on her hip. "You could've suggested that before I wasted money on our tickets."

Six held the ticket she'd given him and looked over both sides. "Is there a particular exhibit you want to see?"

"Huh?"

He shrugged, trying to seem cool and casual. "I wouldn't mind looking around. If you want to."

There was an excited sparkle in her eyes that made Six's heart race, and she glanced around the room. "I haven't been here in almost twenty years, I don’t remember all the…well, I’ll go grab a map!"

While she did that, he looked at some of the text above the large, looming entranceways. European Art, European Art, more European Art…hm. Oh. He noticed her walking back and pointed to a room upstairs and off to their left. "Let's start there."

Holiday followed his finger to the Asian Art exhibit and smiled at him again. "Sounds great, let's go!"

x

Six wasn't much of an art guy.

In the past, he'd stolen some artwork for clients - rarely, very rarely, since his specialty was more in the life-ending department - but otherwise he didn't really partake in museums or art galleries or anything like that. He liked to stay informed and always paid attention to valuable pieces traveling through the black market, but he didn't have any interest in taking them for himself.

That being said, he had a particular lack of interest in portraits of old American and European politicians. He wasn't born in America, nor did he have American citizenship, nor did he have European ancestry, and he didn't have much interest in those countries outside of studying their fighting styles and war practices and much more modern politics and policies. It was important to know the history, of course, but the portraits weren't interesting to him at all.

He didn't have a lot of exposure to Asian art, having been raised extremely poor in Mexico City and then extremely isolated on a small island off the coast of Japan. One didn't prioritize that sort of thing in his training, understandably, but Six still found himself drawn to it. His family came from China and his master came from Japan, not to mention he'd spent decades studying and mastering Japanese fighting styles.

Holiday seemed interested in pretty much everything they saw, which Six thought was very cute. She would stand at each piece and read the blurb of information, then stare at it for a minute to really take it in, and if she had any feelings about it, she'd turn to him and ask for his thoughts. It continued like that through three rooms of artwork before Six realized that she wasn't going to stop. Which was fine. He was just glad that she was enjoying herself.

His interest in the art and his interest in Holiday couldn't distract him from his paranoia, however. Security guards in each room watched them carefully - especially him, because Six was a very recognizable figure and they probably knew he was dangerous. Then there were so many civilians around them - occasionally someone would bump into Holiday and Six would have to resist the urge to attack them. A crowded museum was not a great place for someone like him to be.

Still…it was making Holiday very happy. He liked that a lot.

As they reached the fifth room, Six started to take note of something else. All of the couples - well, almost all of them - were holding hands as they walked and chatted about what they saw. Some of them would even sit on the benches and cuddle while looking at certain pieces.

He stared at Holiday and wondered if she’d want that. Their relationship was very confusing - for both of them, he was sure - and he wanted to start trying to make it…less confusing. It was difficult to allow himself to get to that level of vulnerability, but he was willing to try if it meant he could be with her more completely.

It'd been clear for months - almost a year, at that point - that they had feelings for each other. And in that time, neither had really made a move to take things further. Six didn't think it was because her feelings faded, just that she didn't want to rush him. And there was also a slight hesitation that he imagined stemmed from whatever they'd had before he lost his memories.

Still, he felt like they were getting to the point where it was ridiculous. He was nearing 40, after all. He couldn't just watch her from a distance forever.

As he stared at Holiday while she stared at some art, Six finally followed her gaze to the painting and gave it a good look. He hadn't been offering her much interesting discussion about any of the paintings or sculptures so far, mostly because he was too focused on the dangers of so many people being around them. But he figured he could give her something. If he couldn't hold her hand, he could absolutely pay attention to what pieces she liked.

At that moment, she was staring at a painting of a Japanese woman, daydreaming sadly. Called Surgical Ward. He looked from the painting to Holiday's face, and back again.

Holiday caught him paying attention and brightened significantly. "This one is really interesting, don't you think?"

"...yes," Six answered, being somewhat genuine. "She reminds me of you."

Holiday curled her lips and stared at him as if he'd said something very strange. It made Six feel self-conscious, which she must've noticed because she immediately changed her expression to one that was more sympathetic. "Why's that?"

"I…" He suddenly forgot how to speak. Why did he say it made him think of her? That was stupid. It was because she's a woman and a brunette and it had the word surgery in the title which made him think of her being a doctor even though she wasn’t that kind of doctor. But that wasn't a good answer - it wasn't smart or charming or interesting. "I don't know. It just does."

She didn't seem put off by that response, giving him a smile in return. "It's based off of a book, according to the blurb here. The woman falls in love with her doctor and dies during surgery."

"Oh." 

Not smart. Not charming. Not a good date. He hadn't even established their outing as a date yet. Maybe Six could save face by backflipping out the window into traffic instead of stuffing his foot into his mouth so badly. "Not quite what I was imagining."

"It's all about interpretation, right?" she said with a chuckle. She lightly bit her lip, having noticed his lack of interest in the pieces so far. "We can go to another exhibit if you'd like."

"I'm fine to stay if you're enjoying yourself."

"I'd enjoy myself anywhere, Six." She pulled out the map and looked around for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, Holiday smiled and pointed to something that Six couldn’t see. "Oh I know exactly where we should go."

Six raised a curious eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything. He just assumed she was going to tell him.

Instead, Holiday reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him through the rest of the Asian Art exhibit and back into the main hall. He didn't pay much attention to where they were going, focused instead on the soft warmth of her hand nestled in his. He was supposed to grab her hand, not the other way around! Though he supposed either way was fine so long as they got there.

He wondered if grabbing his hand to guide him somewhere counted as a romantic hand-hold or if it was different somehow. Where was the manual for that sort of thing when he needed it?

"Here!" Holiday said with a smile, using her other hand to point to the exhibit entrance name.

Six followed her pointer finger and saw the words Arms and Armor over the door, then looked inside to see a room filled with swords, armor, and other types of weapons or related instruments. He couldn't hold back his smile at the sight and squeezed her hand a little tighter in appreciation.

"Excellent choice, Doctor."

Holiday smiled and attempted to move away from him - including moving her hand out of his grasp - but Six held on and gently pulled her with him towards the first case filled with swords.

She didn't say anything in response to his actions, instead just staring at their conjoined hands like it was something she'd never seen before. In her defense, she hadn't seen such a thing in a very long time, and certainly didn't expect Six to keep holding onto her like that.

Her heart started to race embarrassingly fast as Holiday's analytical brain deduced what was happening. She'd seen Six hand Rex some money earlier and just assumed it was so he could buy himself something at the gift shop. But…maybe it was a bribe. Maybe this was all some sort of strangely elaborate plan to get the two of them on a date without actually asking her out or using the word date at any point.

Those thoughts made her feel a little paranoid. Maybe Six was just suddenly feeling romantic and wanted to hold her hand. That wasn't the craziest thought in the world (yes it was, yes it absolutely was) (the elaborate plan idea made way more sense). Or maybe Six's hand was just cold. (That was definitely not it either - she could feel how warm his hand was and it made her cheeks turn slightly pink.)

She followed Six's line of sight to a beautiful scimitar sitting in a case - embarrassed that she hadn't been paying attention to the artifacts around them. She was just thinking too hard about whatever was happening with their hands.

"Is this alright?" Six suddenly asked as he turned to look at her. He tightened his grip on her hand for emphasis, and Holiday blushed.

"...yes." She wanted to say it was more than alright, it was perfect, but she didn't want to humiliate herself further. Six was holding her hand in an art museum and she was overthinking it instead of just enjoying it? That was ridiculous. So she took a deep breath and smiled and moved her hand around so their fingers were interlocking. "It's definitely alright."

Six responded with one of his teeny tiny smiles that he saved just for the three closest people in his life and they continued through the exhibit, holding hands the entire way. There were hundreds of pieces to look at and plenty of time to look at them - both Six and Holiday were happy to take their time and enjoy themselves.

It'd been well over an hour by the time they reached the end. Several lively discussions about the effectiveness and artistry of certain weapons later, the two of them were still connected as they walked back into the main hallway. When Rex reappeared with a Statue of Liberty stuffed toy in his hands, he was smiling very brightly at the sight in front of him.

"I guess I don't need to text you, after all," he said with a smirk, staring blatantly down at their hands. "Have a good time without me?"

The two adults quickly separated their hands - Six's went right to his pocket, and Holiday clasped her hands awkwardly behind her back.

"Rex!" Holiday said, embarrassed that he'd caught them and also…embarrassed that she was embarrassed. Couldn't a 36-year-old woman hold hands with the man she loved without blushing over it? Maybe not. "Did you like the museum?"

"Actually…yeah, it was pretty fun!" Rex smiled and held up his new toy. "I made some friends, saw some funny naked sculptures, looked at some of the art of my people…"

Holiday smiled as he spoke, completely over the moon that he'd had a good time.

"...aaaaand I got this amazing little plush! She was only $38.99! What a steal, right?'

Six frowned deeply as Rex shoved the toy in his face, and Holiday just watched them thinking it was related to some inside joke she wasn't privy to. She didn't really care at that moment, she was just happy it'd been such a good afternoon.

An amazing afternoon, really. She was pretty sure that Six had planned all of this, and she wanted to thank him somehow. She had absolutely no idea how best to do that.

Well, she had one idea of how to do that. She just didn't want to rush anything. Even if she knew Six wouldn't object, she still didn't want to make a mistake. He was one of the most important people in her life, after all.

But he'd made a move, so she needed to make one, too.

x

Rex pretended to fall asleep as soon as they got back on the ship. 

He'd made it clear on more than one occasion that he thought his two guardians should be together and had been vocally frustrated by their lack of communication about the subject. Multiple times, he'd threatened to lock them in a room together or set them up in an elaborate Parent Trap-type scenario where they'd end up on a date without realizing it.

Six didn't want to deal with either of those options. He was an adult. He was the sixth most dangerous man in the world. He didn't need some nosy teenager to push him into going out with a beautiful woman. He was perfectly capable of telling her how he felt and holding her and kissing her and doing whatever else she wanted him to do to her.

Six kept those thoughts running through his head as he stared at Holiday through the mirror near the pilot's seat. He could see that she had her arms around herself and was staring awkwardly at the floor, looking like she had a million thoughts running through her head.

She glanced up and he looked away, despite the sunglasses hiding the fact that they'd made eye contact. He couldn't help but feel intimidated under her gaze at that moment.

"Mmm…talk to each other…" Rex mumbled loudly, still pretending to be asleep. "...stop being awkward…"

Holiday glared at him, blushing, and Six just tried to ignore him. He didn't need a push. He was doing just fine.

But then suddenly Holiday was standing up and walking towards him and Six felt his mouth go dry.

"Hey," she said quietly, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"Doctor."

She looked out the window and watched the sky for a minute, enjoying the view of the clouds rolling by. There was nothing quite like flying at such an incredible speed. "Today was really nice. Thank you for that."

He squeezed the control wheel and felt his heart beat a little faster. "Anytime," he answered, trying to be cool and casual and charming.

Holiday smiled at that response and tugged some hair behind her ear. "I was wondering if you, um…if you wanted to get some dinner when we get back."

Six's face remained expressionless as she spoke and his grip on the control wheel loosened. So he hadn't fucked it up - she didn't just enjoy herself, she wanted to continue their date even further and maybe even further after that. He was very satisfied knowing he'd done the right thing.

When he didn't immediately answer, Holiday continued to talk, rambling a bit. "We don't have to go anywhere fancy, I just thought it'd be nice to eat together-"

"Dinner sounds great," he said finally, cutting her off. "Anywhere you want."

She smiled again and stared out the window, feeling very good about herself and the day she was having. "Okay. Okay, perfect. Good."

x

Dinner was nice. Dinner was nice last time they’d had it - Holiday remembered it all too well, almost like she’d dreamt about the missed opportunities for weeks after it happened. But Six didn’t remember it at all, obviously.

Ever since losing his memories, Holiday observed him occasionally do little things that reminded her of his old self. He’d pour his coffee the same way, he’d lean against a doorframe the same way, he’d say her name (her first name, it was rare but it was always something that made her heart leap) in the same way. Some days it almost felt like he never lost his memories at all.

But the dinner was a continuous reminder that he had. Because she couldn't help but think back to that previous date - where they drove out into town, had some Mexican food, and he kissed her on the cheek after the alarm interrupted their evening - which happened almost two years earlier.

Two years was a long time to wait for a second date. But she'd waited two years for the first one, so Holiday didn't mind. Besides, she'd had plenty of other things going on during most of that time.

She was not going to let the second date end like the first one, though. There wasn't an EVO alarm anymore, thanks to Rex, but there was an alarm for certain types of threats that couldn't be handled by the police or military. And Holiday was completely prepared to ignore it if need be. She was tired of waiting. She wanted to be with Six and he had made it perfectly clear on multiple occasions that he wanted to be with her, too. They'd waited long enough.

There was no rushing, no pushing, no pressure from an outside force. Just a simple desire to be together.

Holiday kept that thought running through her mind as Six walked her back to her room at Providence HQ - the same room she'd lived in last time they did this. The same hallway, the same footsteps, the same everything.

His hands were in his pockets and he looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

She smiled softly at him, hands clasped behind her back. "This was nice."

"It was," he answered, just as soft.

There was a brief hesitation between the two of them where they both knew exactly what question was in the air. It was a very big step and though both parties were completely ready and willing, it still felt like dangerous ground.

Holiday took a deep breath and, instead of saying anything, reached out and grabbed Six by the wrist. With her other hand, she opened her door - and then silently pulled him inside and let the door close behind them.

The lights came on automatically and she awkwardly removed her hand from his arm, bringing her hands together to fidget with her fingers. She'd taken one very big step, but she didn't want to mess things up by taking the next one too quickly.

"I, um…so, obviously this has been a long time coming, sure, but I don't want you to think I've got any expectations or anything - I'm just trying to, uh…you know, see where this goes and-"

She was suddenly cut off by Six's lips pressed gently against her own.

Six had been listening patiently as she rambled, just as he'd silently obeyed her when she pulled him into her room. He wanted her, she knew that, and she was making it pretty clear that she felt the same. But he did enjoy watching her blush, so he let her struggle for a minute before responding.

He kept his hands in his pockets initially as he leaned down to kiss her, but after a moment he couldn't fight the urge to feel her skin against his hands. He removed his hands from his pockets and laid them against the sides of her face, holding her gently to him.

After the initial shock wore off, Holiday smiled. Her lips curled up right against his lips and he could feel each and every movement as she reached her hands up to grab his lapels. She bounced once in excitement and pulled him closer, releasing a small giggle as she pressed their lips harder together.

Six smiled back into the kiss, having never been kissed so enthusiastically before. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He was already feeling very drunk on the sensations of Rebecca's lips and hands and smell and she was so soft and -

He moved his hands down to her waist and squeezed, hoping she could understand that though he didn't express himself in the same ways as her, he was just as excited about what was happening as she was.

At his squeeze, she smiled again - and as her tongue passed his lips and entered his mouth, Holiday felt her back hit the wall and Six's body push against hers. There was no question about it anymore - it was happening. They were finally - finally doing it.

They made out for a minute against the wall, both feeling much younger than they usually did - until Six pulled his lips away from hers for a few seconds to catch his breath.

He smiled at the small whiny moan that escaped her throat and he wondered how fast his heart was racing. "I should take you to museums more often," he said quietly.

Holiday opened her eyes and stared into his sunglasses, giving him a small laugh before leaning up to peck his lips again. "Absolutely. I hear the MoMa is lovely this time of year," she answered cheekily, gripping his lapels tighter. "But let's focus on this for now, alright?"

He nodded, still smirking, and kissed her again. With an intense grip on his jacket, she guided him towards her bed, and Six let his fingers dig into the soft skin of her hips as he tried not to lose control of himself.

It was very difficult with Rebecca's arms circling his neck and her legs finding their way around his waist, but Six was a master of self-control.

Or at least he used to be.

Holiday's attention moved to his jaw and then the side of his neck, and Six squeezed her so hard he wondered if he might leave bruises. He also wondered if she wouldn't mind. At that moment, she was his and he was hers and he wanted to mark her up and make that very clear to anyone who saw her.

She started undoing his tie and he moved his hands under the bottom edge of her shirt.

He could ask her about it later. At the moment, he wanted to focus.

[ohanny]

okay, i am starting bed friend and since watching alone makes me stressed you are once again exposed to my initial reactions:

i love how the first minute of this show is uea being all "i am just your average guy... except i am so hot everyone desires me and it makes my life so hard. sigh."

HELLO YIM IN YOUR BOWL CUT NERD MULLET YES YES YOU ARE MY BABY MY SUNSHINE MY ETERNAL LOVE PLS TAKE ME AWAY IN YOUR SPACESHIP

so mark is like fine fine in that grown ass man way. pls someone tell me he is a lead in a show because i need

also like... am i the only one who thinks james is the soft, godly lovechild of yim and nat?

how can you dislike king and his jawline of doom. wait. oh my god. are having enemies to lovers thrown in this too?!?!? are they gonna hit all my fave tropes?!?

oh boy. OH BOY. something happened that night for sure sure

no but as a low voices appreciator this theme song is tickling my ears in a good way

ooh not the shiny shoes. damn, you really don't like the man.

oh this does not sound good but the stubble but OH FUUUUUCK

i have known uea for literally 5 minutes and 16 seconds and i am ready to murder anyone who hurts him

oh no. trauma.

yeah no, murdering anyone who hurts him is not enough. i need to go full vegas in a torture poncho on their ass.

the fuckboy has got the feels already 11/10 look at that face

in the non-creepiest way possible: i need to put these child actors into my pocket and feed them cupcakes

okay so the mom belongs in the bin

oh bitch DON'T YOU DARE call him

give my boy all the fuzzy blankets to cover up his sadness

noooo when do these boys learn pulling someone's metaphorical pigtails as a method of flirting will never work

ksdjfkalsfjasdlfj james since when have you been this PRETTY

king: babe, what can i do to make you like me uea: die

pock rhymes with cock which is exactly what you have to be to mess with my baby. a musty, unwashed, diseased cock.

jade is such a sweet bean and also a mood at the end of the day

i love how their gc is called "domundi"

what in the workplace parking garage showdown is this. also mark, daddy, step on me. respectfully.

okay, free karaoke emergencies are my kind of emergencies.

why does no one want to ride with the boss? I VOLUNTEER AS A TRIBUTE

lol, poor jade being thrown under the bus

is it gay to be unable to go through a single interaction with your workplace nemesis without standing face to face, intensely staring at one another? asking for a friend

ohhh cock is calling. hang up. that's a good boy.

this karaoke makes me miss my early twenties. also noooo, my baby jade letting loose while uea is like "pls god someone save me. end my suffering. existence is pain."

jade: i am about to vomit everyone else: THE FUCK YOU ARE WEAKLING boss: also you still have to work lmfao

butt. hehet.

oh nooo he has a cute lil man purse on top of the confidence to wear white pants? damn.

oooh he is drunk. i can see where this is going and i have conflicting feelings about it :')

i do not have conflicting feelings about these collarbones though. they are very much fire.

piggyback rides T T

okay but do i have to move to thailand to afford these condos on a single income?

one day these bl boys will be this gentle and soft yet also capable of resisting the urge to ravish their drunk crushes

(un)holy spiderman o.o

*distressed noises*

oh if you left snow white in bed all alone i am going to kill you

okay yes that is some tongue

i do love a strategically placed mustard yellow pillow

ooooh, it was king who had to wake up alone. oh my sweet babies. why do i feel so bad for both of them?

seriously, that bathroom is custom made. how much do these average salary men make?

JADE IN THE ICONIC YELLOW CARDIGAN

jade: omg what is wrong bestie uea: *war flashbacks to cock* sleep deprivaton

the fact jade is always drinking boba is just so in character. not that we know much all about his character but the point still stands. he is a boba boy.

oh that "mom" needs the bin asap. and you can't add a "we need to talk" text to that, king, you and your jawline need to time things better.

oh no. shit is about to go down in the copy room.

i love the alleged king of one night stands not comprehending one night stand etiquette. boy is down bad.

king: seriously uea: i am avoiding avoiding the subject, that's how deep my avoidance goes

they are just so laskdfjasdklfjsadlkfjaslkjfoierjudfj

why do i feel uea almost running people down with his car is a character trait

ugh, my poor baby is in pain and i don't know how to help (T⌓T)

THIS CAT