#mx fics

You sighed happily and put down your brush. Numbers 1-5, all filled in. The blues in the sky were coming along nicely. 

You had ordered this Paint by Numbers kit a week ago as a salute to your childhood, and you couldn’t wait to finish the painting and hang it up somewhere, maybe the living room. It was going to be a lovely scene of some orange, yellow, and red flowers against a geometrical blue backdrop and you were so excited to see the final result.

You were determined to get a much done today as you could. Your boyfriend had been called in to do extra dance practice, despite the fact that it was a Saturday, and even though you were disappointed that you couldn’t spend the time with him, at least you could do something crafty.

You adjusted your headphones and picked up orange #6, humming along to the song as you carefully popped open the lid and dipped in your fresh paintbrush.

You were so focused on your task that you didn’t hear the front door open, nor see as Hyunwoo ripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and headed over to see you.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek and you screamed, your paintbrush flying up and hitting him in the shoulder with a glob of paint.

You ripped out your headphones and put down your brush, turning to see Hyunwoo’s head thrown back in laughter.

“Hyunwoo!” you yell, quickly capping the paint and standing up from the desk. “You scared me!”

You stand on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck, smearing the orange glob over his shoulder and up to his neck and you go to kiss him.

“We got let out early,” he chuckles, putting his hands on your waist.

“Oo,” you flinch and touch the line your arm had just drawn. “Sorry.”

He looks over at where you’re tracing and laughs. “I knew you were doing a Paint by Numbers kit, but I didn’t know that kit involved me.”

You shake your head, smiling. “It wasn’t supposed too.”

He lifts your arm and smiles at the smear of orange paint on the underside of your wrist and quickly presses his lips to the skin above it.

Your breath catches at the unexpected kiss, and his eyes lift to yours briefly before he presses another kiss to your arm.

You moisten your lips, wondering where this is going, as he presses another to your paint-stained fingertips and tugs you closer to him.

You slide your fingers back around his neck and he grabs your waist, kissing you hungrily.

He backs you up and presses his hand to the table behind you, accidentally pressing the tips of his fingers into the blue sky of your painting.

“Oops,” he mumbled, quickly drawing his hand back and showing it to you sheepishly. “I’m sorry…”

You’re too turned on to be mad and shake your head, pulling his mouth back to yours. “Forget about it.”

You feel the paint smear against your lower back as he slides his hands under your shirt and you groan into his mouth, pressing your hand against his chest.

He slides his hands over your ass and lifts you when you jump, bringing you over to the bedroom and pressing you down onto the bed, his entire body weight over you.

It’s a frantic grab for clothes, his mouth never leaving yours as he pulls your shirt over your head and grabs your bra, pulling your breast out so he can pop the nipple into his mouth.

You arch your back up into his mouth and reach your hand down to cup him through his shorts, wanting to make him feel as good as he was making you.

He groans and bites down on your nipple as you palm him, pulling off so he can pull back and grab your shorts, pushing them down your legs. You lift your hips for him to help him take them off, reaching for his shorts and yanking them off too.

As he settles his body back over yours, his hand goes toward your clit and you keen beneath him as he starts to play.

You’re hot, so hot all over, and his body, already sweaty from hours of dance practice, smells like the heaviest incense as he works his mouth all over your body while working one finger in and out of you.

You run your fingers over his back, his chest, and down his thighs, reaching for him and making him shiver under your touch. You sit up and push him back, flipping your position until you’re sitting on his lap and can freely press your mouth wherever you so desire.

He grips your ass, sliding your core over his length as you stuck harshly into his neck, loving the way the salt of his skin tastes on your tongue when mixed with the moans of both of your pleasures.

You grip his shoulders and lift yourself up, reaching between you so you can line him up underneath you, locking your eyes onto his as you slowly lower yourself down onto him.

His eyes dilate even more and his breath becomes heavier as you sheath him, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he struggles to not buck up into you.

You love the stretch of him, how no matter how ready you think you are for him, he stings just a little every time; as if while your body tries to take all of him it wants the memory to be burned inside you.

Once he is buried to the hilt you push him back on the bed, placing your palms on his chest and rolling your hips tentatively.

He throws his head back and groans, bucking his hips up into you, and you know if you keep doing that you are not going to have control much longer.

So of course, you do it again; smiling as you watch your normally controlled man fall to pieces, then gasping in your own pleasure as he bucks hard beneath you.

When you slide back up him, you purposefully clench your walls around him as you move back down, causing him to inhale sharply and flip you, eyes flashing.

“You did that on purpose.” He grunts, slipping your legs over his biceps and pushing back into you.

You moan out at the angle and he begins to pound into you, hard and fast, building you impossibly quick. You’re grabbing at his shoulders, needing some sort of anchor to his pounding, blubbering broken sentences as you lose all sense of reality.

“Hyunw-, I -, fushhhhh” nothing makes sense and he’s grunting with you, nipping at your neck and collarbones as you watch as he slides in an out of you until you come so hard you’re seeing stars.

He continues to fuck you like a maniac until you’re crying out in over sensitivity and his thrusts get sloppier until he pulls out last minute and paints your stomach with the thick ropes of his pleasure.

He presses one last hard kiss to your mouth then rolls off you and flops onto the bed next to you, both of you breathing heavily.

After you catch your breath you can’t help but find yourself smiling.

“Hmm… maybe I should paint you more often,” you say, stretching out in the bed.

Hyunwoo chuckles and turns to his side, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to him. “If this happens to be the end result every time? I don’t mind at all.”

You giggle and snuggle into his arms, pulling his arm tighter around you as he nuzzles your hair. “We should probably check to see if this paint comes off,” you state after a few moments, lifting his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Ah, if it doesn’t, at least it looks cool.”

You laugh and hug him tighter. “Hyunwoo, did you know that I like you?”

He smiles. “No way.”

“Mhm,” you turn around and nuzzle into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Lots and lots.”

“Even though I ruined your Paint by Numbers kit?”

You tap the back of his shoulder with your hand and sigh, smiling into his chest. “You’re ruining the moment. You see, that was where you were supposed to say, ‘I like you too y/n’ and make me feel validated.”

He laughs and kisses the top of your head. “I like you too y/n. I hope you feel validated.”

“I do, thank you.” He chuckles and you lay there for a few moments in silence, enjoying the feel of each other.

“We really should see about getting that paint off though,” you state, looking up once again at the orange streak.

“Yeah, to be honest, it is starting to sting a little…”

You sit up and reach for his hand, pulling him up in bed. “Hyunwoo! Shower. Now.”

He laughs and swings his legs out of bed, heading towards the bathroom. “Yes, ma’am.”

You flop back against the sheets and watch his back and ass as he walks in, unashamedly admiring your man.

You felt your phone buzz in your backpack, but you knew better than to look. Hoseok was the only one who ever texted you. Of course it was him. You couldn’t look back now, the decision had been made. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t hurt him more.

You defied any rationality and picked a random city with a later departure - enough time to buy your ticket and get where you needed to go. You took a deep breath and walked to the ticket window.

Finding where you were supposed to be was much more difficult than even picking a destination. Some of the lines connected with each other at different stations, and figuring out which was which was almost rocket science.

Your heart felt like it was beating in the back of your throat as you walked down to the right train tunnel. The music in your earphones meant nothing, just background noise to make you dizzy. Your pulse skyrocketed, your palms became damp.

There really was no going back after this.

You found a seat on the correct platform just in time, feeling your the muscles in your legs become gelatinous and finally give way. The reoccurring thought, the endless loop of film in your mind, it was all Hoseok. You had promised him, and then you had immediately broken it. How could anyone reconcile that?

You guessed at the hours remaining until he got home. Would he even get home tonight? There were some times where he was gone a lot longer than he had initially expected. Your thoughts struggled for rationality, for purchase, for some kind of organisation. You focused on a spot where several tiles on the floor had cracked in tiny veins, fighting with yourself.

The thought of Hoseok’s broken heart haunted you, but was it really inevitable? Why did you always feel powerless? Were you ever strong?

The hours passed in this cycle of self-punishment, reasoning yourself into believing your excuses for leaving, a cruel circle. Your train had long since come and departed without you when a voice shook you out of your head.

‘Excuse me,’ it said.

You looked to see a squat, middle-aged security guard, his keys jingling from his belt as he shifted his stance.

‘Excuse me,’ he repeated. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah,’ was your first, thoughtless response. You shook your head to clear the cobwebs. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just waiting for someone.’

‘If you say so. The last train left a while ago, you know,’ he said.

Had you really been here that long? You glanced at the timeboard in alarm. It was almost nine - at night. Your stomach rumbled obviously, and your hands shook as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders. Your legs threatened to give out again as you walked out of the station, but you were determined now. But were you too late?

You were hungry, sure. But you wanted Hoseok more. The thought, admitting that you felt even a little for him, it flooded your systems with relief. Maybe you could make progress.

Maybe you could make it home before Hoseok. You speedwalked, almost running, the whole way home. But your heart fell as you saw the living room light through the front window. You were too late. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You stood in the shadow of the dusk, watching him pace the living room irritably. One of his groupmates sat on the edge of your tiny couch, looking at Hoseok with worry. Hoseok turned, raking his fingers through his hair.

You swallowed and walked up to the door. Your hand froze on the handle. Of course it was locked, he wasn’t crazy. But there went your surprise entry. He would know it was you. He would know you had tried to leave.

Of course he already knew.

You could feel the tension through the door as you did your best to silently slip your key into the lock. Your fingers fumbled with one of your keychains, knocking the tiny silver heart against the door frame. You heard the voices inside go quiet. The only sound was the pounding of your heart as you turned the key and stepped inside.

Hoseok’s eyes peered around the hallway corner. They glistened through the dim lighting, and Hoseok’s staggered breathing tore through the still air.

You took your time. Setting down your bag, slipping out of your shoes, all at a snail’s pace. He waited patiently, stepping around to watch you fully. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, stiff and motionless.

You knew. You knew you were in for it. You could practically hear his voice, distorted with anger, and by all means, you deserved it. You had tried to break your promise to stay, as if his heart meant nothing to you. You had betrayed his trust in one of the worst ways. The way you did didn’t even matter, it was the fact that you did it at all.

You braced for it, the hot tears starting purely from how ashamed you were of yourself. Wordlessly you had begun to tear yourself down, your intentions toward yourself lacking all the kindnesses they might have otherwise had. But that was okay. You weren’t someone that deserved kindness. You could only stare at the floor, all pride and pretense fallen by the wayside, unable to meet his eyes.

But before you could even consider how to apologize, to ask him how you could make it up to him, if at all, Hoseok crossed the distance between you and swung his arms around you, crushing you to his torso. He spared no air for your lungs or thought for your ribs, there was only you and the thought of how close he had come to losing you for good.

Your arms were pinned between your ribs and his chest, your breaths shallow and struggling, but it didn’t matter much. You were home, and it didn’t have anything to do with the building or your things or furniture. You closed your eyes and let yourself be crushed, refusing to struggle or complain.

Hoseok combed his fingers through your hair, his lips against your forehead.

‘I was so worried you weren’t coming back,’ he whispered. His fear was evident in his hold, his desperate clinging, his fingers digging into your back. His breath was shaky, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all you manage in return, your voice muffled in his shirt.

He stayed around you this way for way few moments longer, only releasing you when Hyunwoo appeared from around the corner.

‘All good then?’ he said, looking past you to Hoseok.

Hoseok, still with his arm around you in his incessant need to be in contact with you, nodded, sniffing loudly.

‘You guys should talk,’ said Hyunwoo, making purposeful eye contact with you as he passed you.

Hoseok squeezed your side in affirmation, the curve of his chest resting against your shoulder.

Hyunwoo slipped on his jacket, turning to face you.

‘I’m glad you didn’t leave,’ he said finally, one final nod at Hoseok behind you before heading out, closing the door gently behind himself.

You were still frozen in the thought, staring at the closed door, when you felt your fingers being separated by Hoseok’s. He pulled you forward, leading you away from the door, just in case you changed your mind again.

You followed him without resisting. His shoulders, normally wide and proud, seemed now to sink beneath a terrible weight, and you didn’t have to wonder what it was. You reached a trembling hand to rest between them, hoping maybe to lend him some courage, to put strength back where it should be.

Hoseok peered back over at you, giving you a sad smile. Maybe you should have been encouraged, but it felt like your heart weighed even more. It felt like it was a struggle just to keep breathing, to keep the blood flowing through your veins.

He led you into the bedroom, turning to face you as you stood in front of the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out.

You waited, but there was no anger, no rage, nothing like what you deserved. You braced for the storm, but Hoseok didn't move or speak, stuck in the thick mire of his own thoughts.

It was on you.

A strange sense of boldness came over you, and you reached to cup his cheek into your palm. He fit perfectly, like he always had, his eyes shutting peacefully at your touch. You turned him and climbed backwards onto the covers, pulling him with you. There was no need, as Hoseok followed willingly, keeping your warmth on his skin.

You propped your back against the pillows and the headboard, motioning him closer. Hoseok hovered over you at first, starting sadly into your eyes, as if he doubted your sincerity. The look was no longer a blow, but an expectation. You deserved to be doubted, you couldn't be trusted.

The apologies flooded your throat, but couldn't tear through the heavy blanket of silence that had fallen over both of you. You hoped that your torn expression would be enough for now as you looked up at him.

Hoseok leaned down, resting an arm on either side of you. He came close, his eyes flickering down to your mouth. You nodded your consent wordlessly, but he still didn't kiss you. Hoseok studied you, and for once, you couldn't read what was going on in his mind.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't mean it, you didn't mean to leave. That you realized you had been making a mistake.

Then he reached for you, the pads of his fingers gently running the ridge of your jaw, down your neck, tracing the line of your collarbone over your shirt in a lazy fascination. Hoseok blinked slowly, his breathing loud and ragged.

'You,’ he said quietly. 'You came back.’

Your heart picked up the pace with the panic and shame. You swallowed before speaking.

'I shouldn't have even left. I panicked and I freaked out and I don't know even know why,’ your voice strained over the words, pleading with yourself for calm.

He idly traced the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb, bumping the tip of his nose against yours.

Your instinct begged for you to touch him, to feel every part of him, but your conscience told you that you didn't have the right. His shoulders curved gracefully in front of your eyes, and you reached halfway before losing heart, your hands shaking in midair.

‘Hoseok,’ your voice cracked. ‘I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you.’

Hoseok said nothing at first. He sat back, taking your outstretched hand and placing it on his chest. He covered it with his, keeping it prisoner there.

“Don't be afraid of me,’ he said. He sniffled. “That - that's worse than anything else you could do to me.’

He leaned forward again, this time not hesitating to kiss your forehead, your palm still planted over his heart.

He didn't say, “that's okay,” or, “I forgive you.” But really, you didn't expect him to forgive you at all.

He looked down at you, his eyes rounded and swimming with tears, his bottom lip trembling. The damage you caused with your recklessness. His fingers between yours squeezed tightly as his pain took him into dark places.

You sat forward, your own tears starting to burn as you held his head between your hands.

Hoseok nearly collapsed into your touch, overwhelmed and exhausted, crashing into you with all dignity forgotten, all pretense lost. His lips covered yours with a sad hunger, as if it were a fruitless endeavour.

You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could, drawing him down to you.

He paused to take in a breath, his wet eyelashes brushing against your cheek.

“I…” his voice faded as he struggled to speak. “I can't believe I almost lost you.”

“You won't,” you choked out through the knot in your throat. “You won't ever lose me.”

Hoseok kissed you again, pressing against you fervently. His lips tasted of nothing but salt, his pressure drawing the air from your lungs. You would give it all to him if he asked.

He rose up to his knees, his eyes never leaving your face. You watched him as he slowly peeled the shirt from his torso, opening your arms to him as he fell forward into you.

His kiss lasted a few moments longer, and he sighed in relief as your palms slid against his bare skin, as if the surface was a fire that only you could put out. He sunk down as he kissed you, his arm slung around your lower back, tracing the bare skin he found there.

You captured him and held him steady at your center, playing lightly in the short hair at the back of his neck as you returned his affection. This time willingly and present. You were sure that it was your lips against his, your skin that the waves of his breath skated down. He was Hoseok and he was here, all yours along with all the damage you had created. The heart you had so rashly broken.

His back curved into your palm, his skin smooth and cool to the touch.

Finally Hoseok retreated, his eyes boring into yours.

You followed the tired lines under his eyes with your fingertips, Hoseok falling rapture to your simple affection, his eyelids falling shut.

“You should rest,” you whispered.

He shook his head.

“I can't sleep,” he said. He leaned his head into your hand. “Not unless I know you'll be here when I wake up.”

You reached up to lay a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I'll be here,” you said, certain of yourself now. “I'll always be here.”

Hoseok opened his eyes, regarding you doubtfully. He sniffled, his tears starting to ease.

“I know that I fucked up, that I hurt you-”

Hoseok shushed you with a finger on your lips.

“I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm tired of thinking about it.”

He sank further down, wrapping his remaining arm around you. He lined your throat with a tender trail of featherlight kisses, settling between your legs, resting his head on your chest. His eyes fluttered closed as you stroked long circles down his back, fingers playing in his hair.

Your thoughts buzzed as you held him, the long lines of his back spread out, bared in front of you.

He was being too kind again. It worried you. Why wasn't he angry? If only he would yell or curse or something, anything to break the tension you felt deep inside yourself. Maybe you didn't understand everything about him. After all these years together, was there still more you didn't know about him? After all, you had never tested his boundaries quite like this. You had never tried to break free of yourself before.

You reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, Hoseok's arms tightening as you shifted beneath him.

Maybe the threat of breaking had helped you find a new perspective. You still felt the lack of emotion, pure apathy lurking beneath the surface, waiting to swallow you whole. Would it always be a constant battle with yourself? Would you always have to fight yourself to be good enough for him?

The questions swirled in your head until you were dizzy. But still you held him, sleeping in your arms while the night ticked on around you, your own mind plagued by your worries.

You might not know yourself the way you wanted to, or know why every emotion was a struggle, but you did know what you wanted to be. Safety for Hoseok, a shelter he could turn to anytime things might get difficult for him. But how could you transform yourself from a rock on the ground that he might trip on, annoying and problematic, to someplace he might think of as home? You saw where you needed to be, what you needed to be, but you didn't know how to get there.

Hoseok stirred, bracing himself on one arm long enough to peel himself off you and fall to the side. You distinctly felt the lack of him, missed the weight of him, and you looked down at him regretfully.

Without opening his eyes, Hoseok took your wrist and pulled you down with him. His arms snaked around you, his flat palm finding the small of your back. Gently, he gathered you against his front, tucking you into his chest. His lips pressed warmly against your forehead.

“Sleep,” he whispered, his breath rustling in your hair.

His heart beat steadily against your ear, and for a moment, you thought you might be able to. The gentle rhythm was lulling and familiar, but everything else, all the self blame and mental gymnastics pinned your consciousness in place, ripping sleep from your grasp.

You wiggled yourself closer, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing would work.

Still the late hours wore on, you felt frozen in time and space, as the world kept moving on without you. You stared blankly off into the darkness of your bedroom.

A few moments later, Hoseok sighed.

“What's wrong?” His words barely had any volume, but shattered the thick silence that had fallen.

“Why aren't you mad?” you heard yourself say, the words spilling out thoughtlessly.

Hoseok didn't answer. His hand ran up your back, finding a better angle to hold you even more tightly.

In the dark, you felt him carefully guide your face up to his. You felt his lips brush yours, but he didn't crash down like you guessed he would.

“Tonight I really thought I had lost you,” he said. “I came home, and you were gone, your stuff was gone. It felt like I had lost... everything.” He pressed a tiny kiss of punctuation. “But you came back, you're here now.”

“But I fucked up so badly.”

“Don't, ok? Just don't. I just want to forget. Just for tonight.”

“Ok.” Your voice was a tiny murmur, far away from where you felt you were.

His arms didn't lose their pressure on your frame, even as he renewed his efforts to kiss you. It was messy in the dark and the exhaustion that tugged at both of you, his lips slipping or missing their target, but none of that reduced its significance.

The rest of you began to enjoy this attention, but a tiny voice raised its fist in rebellion in the back of your mind.

Would this be his solution to all your problems, then? Just to kiss you until you lost yourselves in the intimacy, forgetting what your real problems were? To ignore something long enough until it goes away?

It was there, bare and exposed as if in broad daylight, but you didn't want to look at it either. Maybe he was right too.

You tucked into him with a renewed focus, spreading your hands over his chest. His pressure increased in response, his hand on your back slipping beneath your shirt.

At the flick of your tongue on his bottom lip, Hoseok surged forward, pushing you onto your back. His fingertips played in the waistband of your pants, wanting nothing more than to ease beneath all of your layers.

Your mind raced with your pulse. Did you want this? Did he even want this, or were you both just doing it out of habit?

Hoseok retreated to breathe, his pulse elevated under your touch. You felt him staring down, the questions in his eyes evident, even in the darkness. Had he felt your hesitation?

“You should sleep,” he said in a whisper, his voice low and breathless. His thumb gently traced your chin.

He sat up, propping himself on an arm at your side.

“Yeah.” You rolled onto your side, curling into a ball and facing away from him. “Yeah, you're right.” You closed your eyes and feigned falling asleep.

Hoseok sighed loudly, falling down onto mattress behind you in a heavy heap. Without a second thought, his arms wove their way around your middle, untangling the knot you had made of yourself. He curled around your back, tucking you against himself. He swung his leg on top of yours, his heavy thigh keeping you in place.

You felt his nose poke against your neck as his breathing eased and shallowed.

And now you were here once more, staring at the window as Hoseok held you. He was right behind you, tangled around you in a mess of limbs. His chest rose and fell against your shoulder in the most familiar of patterns.

The scream made it all the way to the garage, Roadhog putting down his tools with a sigh. It wasn't the first time Junkrat had freaked out on one of his basement diving expeditions, he'd once mistaken an old dressmakers dummy for an omnic, ready to burn the whole place to the ground before Roadhog dragged it out into the light.

Groans of protest came from the stairs as Junkrat ran for the surface, clutching a dusty cardboard box. "Roadie Roadie Roadie! You'll never guess what I found!"

The mask tilted questioningly.

"I mean I dunno what they are, but you probably do. Some kind of robot birds?"

He dumped the box on the floor between them, throwing it open and pulling out one the creatures, covered in black and white fur. "Pretty weird right?"

Roadhog's sharp intake of breath was audible through the mask, pulling the box closer to look at the contents. He'd forgotten he'd even had these.

Junkrat didn't seem to notice, messing with the one he'd picked up. "So, what are they?"

"Furbies."

"Right. Furbies. What are they about then?"

How to explain a Furby? Weird bird things that had been beloved by children that later found them creepy and annoying. Friends for a lonely kid who never got the hang of talking to people and wasn't allowed a real pet? An old toy that kept a community of fans long after they stopped being made?

"Kids toys. They can talk and respond to certain words." He winced as Junkrat shook the one he was holding.

"Hello?" He poked it when it didn't respond. "It's not talking, reckon it's dead?"

"There's a power switch on the bottom."

Junkrat flipped it over, trying to wake it up as he flipped the switch back and forth. "Still dead."

"Maybe the batteries need changing." Where they were meant to get AA batteries from was beyond him. Obsolete before he was even born, he doubted anyone here collected tech ancient enough to need a supply.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice Junkrat prising off the battery cover until he heard the yell of pain. A glance showed the batteries corroded and leaking, quickly grabbing Junkrat's hand before he put it in his mouth. "Don't. Go wash it."

A trail of curses followed Junkrat as he ran for the sink, swilling his hand in the water. "The fuck was that?" "Battery acid." "What kind of battery has acid in!?"

He shrugged, wiping the base of the furby clean with a nearby rag. "All of them did back before 2030."

It wasn't long before Junkrat strode back over, wiping his burnt fingers on his shorts. "It felt more like an alkaline burn." Like he could tell the difference. "Of course I can tell the difference!" He lent on Roadhog's arm, glaring at the old batteries. "Reckon I could rewire it to fit a proper battery. One that won't melt and burn people." - One dismantled remote control and a bit of solder later the Furby twitched, blue eyes blinking open. "u-nye-loo-lay-doo?" Its voice was rough, the speaker hadn't lasted well. Junkrat sat it on the desk triumphantly., "It's alive!"

The furby shifted, whirring quietly as its ears moved up and down. "Doo?" They both stared at it. "Yoo?"

Junkrat hummed, moving closer. "Do I what?"

"Boo."

Junkrat pointed a screwdriver at it, face scrunched in displeasure. "Look, either you start making sense or we're moving onto brain surgery."

Mako fished a manual out of the box, holding it in front of Junkrat until he snatched it, mumbling to himself as he read the instructions.

"Oh, we have to teach it English?" He shifted into a dramatic stance, raising on arm and closing his eyes,  voice uncomfortably loud in the small space. "We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service—two dishes, but to one table. That’s the end." He cracked an eye open, looking down at the Furby like he was expecting applause. "A man may fish with a worm that has eaten the flesh of a king, and eat the fish that has fed on that worm. "  

It chirped in response. "Me no listen."

"Alright you little-" Roadhog grabbed the hand that went for the screwdriver, pointing firmly at the Furbish-to-English dictionary.

Junkrat took it with a heavy sigh. "Fiiiine, wee tee kah wah tee?"

"Wah Tee!" The low fidelity wail it began to make wouldn't be out of place in a horror film, neither would Junkrat's burst of laughter.  He continued to flick through the guide. trying out new phrases as he went. It was almost comical, both staring wide-eyed at each other making nonsense sounds. Roadhog felt he should have seen this coming somehow, he'd spent his youth with a creature that always stared, always wanted attention and refused to shut up, and now he had Junkrat.

Quickly exhausting the commands, Junkrat dropped the manual. "Is that it? It only knows like five things."

"It's pre-millennium tech."

"Pretty sure they had better things than this pre-millennium."

"It was a kids toy."

Junkrat leant back, staring up at him. "So what, you kept a box full of toys you had when you were a kid?"

The clicking of the toy filled the silence until Roadhog finally replied.

"Only had one when I was a kid, got the rest when I was older."

"Why?"

Roadhog turned back to the box, fishing through until he found the right one. Green with a painted faceplate and a custom-made raincoat.

"People used to customize them for fun. Some people just changed their appearance a little, others changed the shape completely or attached them to other things. Lot of people added better AI."

"Huh. Maybe I would've done that if I was around back then."

Had Junkrat ever had a hobby? He loved building and blowing things up but they were also the closest thing he had to a job. Had he ever done anything without a purpose, anything that wasn't wired to survival in his brain? Hell, it had been a long time since Roadhog had made something just for fun.

"Do you want to do one now?"

Junkrat's eyes shone, bouncing to his feet. "Really? One of yours?" Furbies scattered as Junkrat upended the box, picking out one he liked. "This one!"

"No."

"Why not? It's practically falling apart anyway, not like I can make it any worse."

Because it had been with him for forty years. It had meant so much to him as a kid and even now he couldn't bear to get rid of it He didn't say a word, but Junkrat seemed to get it anyway, looking slightly stricken as he put it back in the box with exaggerated care.

"Hey, no worries mate, I'll use a different one. Wanna pick one out for me?"

Roadhog placed a blue and pink model in Junkrat's outstretched hand. "Paint it, circuit bend it. Do what you like with it."

"Thanks mate. Ooh! I think I've still got some of the gold spray paint left from doing the bricks."

He skipped away, leaving Roadhog to stare at remaining furbies. Well, no reason he couldn't mix this old part of himself with who he was now. They didn't see each other for a few hours after that, both working on their own projects. It wasn't until the next day that Junkrat decided he was finished, proudly strutting into the room and presenting his piece to Roadhog.

"Okay so first I used soot and grease to dye it black, didn't completely work, you can still see the original colours a bit. The fur on it's stomach was too patchy to fix so I covered it with this sack material, then since it had those dots around it#s belly first I did 'em over with some rivets I had going spare. Sprayed the ears and mask bit gold then gave it the goggles we snatched from that prick with the chainsaw a while back." "S'good." Junkrat followed his gaze to the clunky bit of plastic at the bottom.

"That's the second best bit. Basically I was like, what's the point of having a pet that's stuck in one place?" He reached below it, flicking the switch. It cooed as it floated into the air, hovering around his shoulder.

“Used some of the bits from that old assistance drone, the one I made into the scarecrow bot you thought was too creepy?“

Roadhog had never said it was creepy, but he hadn't liked the idea of a humanoid figure floating outside his farmhouse at night, even it was in the hope of scaring away anyone who wanted to try and get them while they were sleeping. He could feel Junkrat's desperate desire for a follow-up question. "What's the best bit?"

It should be impossible for anyone to smile so wide. Junkrat plucked the toy from the air, pointing it towards the open doorway.

"Fire in the hole!"

A tap to the head and it let out a distorted scream,  a stream of flame shooting through its open beak, "Imagine treading on that in the dark!"

Note to self, make sure that's turned off before Junkrat forgets about it and treads on it in the dark.

"So what did you make then?"

Roadhog reached into the box, pulling out his creation as Junkrat gasped in delight.

Its lilac fur had been dyed a vivid orange, face plate sprayed with chrome. The beak had been covered with carved yellowing teeth. A tiny decorated leather jacket sat on its non-existent shoulders, open to show a survival belt with a tiny knife attached. "I love it! Did'ya do anything with the insides?"

Hyungwon hates gym.

He stands in a line with his peers, digging the toe of his shoe into the grass and waiting. He knows he’ll be waiting for a while as Wonho and Kihyun pick out the best teams possible for their head to head football match. And Hyungwon knows that, just like always, he’ll be picked last. Because Hyungwon sucks at all things sports-related, but especially football.

He pushes his hair back and glances at Hyunwoo as he’s chosen, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Hyunwoo is, by far, the best football player in Hyungwon’s gym class. He’s always picked first for everything. He’s all athletic and tan, with these strong thighs and muscular arms. He’s sort of perfect and Hyungwon has to remind himself not to stare as Hyunwoo jogs over to join his team.

The minutes tick by slowly until everyone is chosen except for Hyungwon and Jooheon, the asthmatic kid. Even he gets picked before Hyungwon usually.

Hyungwon looks up from the pattern his foot made in the grass with his toe when he doesn’t immediately hear Jooheon’s name being called and he sees Hyunwoo and Wonho arguing slightly. Finally, Wonho gives in with a sigh and a roll of his eyes.

“Chae Hyungwon,” he calls out, making Hyungwon’s jaw drop.

He stands there, not moving to join his team because, well, he couldn’t have possibly heard that right. Right?

“You gonna stand there all day, or are you going to join us, Hyungwon?” Hyunwoo asks sternly and Hyungwon instantly pinches himself to see if it’s a dream, or reality.

“Um. Yes. Joining.” He answers, still not feeling too sure of himself as he walks over to join his team.

“Good choice,” Hyunwoo smiles, patting his shoulder when Hyungwon stands next to him.

Hyungwon feels his ears heat up and bites his lip as Kihyun calls out Jooheon’s name and the teams are all even.

Hyungwon tries to pay attention in the huddle. They all know he can’t run, he’ll trip over his own feet, so he’s assigned to play goalie. After that, he spends the next few minutes trying to not dwell on his crush towards his own teammate.

“Alright, let’s go!” Wonho claps and they break apart, running to take their positions.

“Um,” Hyungwon stands there, unsure of which side of the pitch he’s supposed to be on. He’s alone. Because his teammates actually have a clue on what they’re doing.

Luckily, Wonho comes to his aid. “Chae,” he calls, pointing to the correct goal. “Stand there.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Hyungwon says, nodding like he knew that, he was just waiting for… his legs to start working.

Hyungwon jogs over to his goal and takes his place, hoping that he can pull through for his team.

The game is going pretty okay.

Hyungwon has only had to defend against one shot that went too out of the goal anyway. So, at least he hasn’t let his team down. Hyunwoo has been a boss on the field, stealing the ball and blocking most of the shots before they can get the ball to Hyungwon anyway.

Unfortunately, the other team actually has an amazing goalie so Hyungwon’s team hasn’t scored either, though not for the lack of trying.

“Three minutes!” the coach calls out, and Hyungwon already feels relief that the game is almost over and he’s managed not to embarrass himself. “The team that scores first, doesn’t have to run laps!”

“Oh shit,” Hyungwon says to himself as he sees Jooheon, dribbling the ball his way, giving him a look with renewed determination. Of course he wouldn’t want to run laps. It would be much easier on his lungs to not have to.  

He’s not sure how but Hyungwon knows it even before Jooheon kicks the ball. He can tell which direction it’s going to go and he could stop it but Hyungwon has a crisis of conscience. Does he stop the ball and save his team from running laps? Or let it in and save Jooheon with asthma from the same fate? In the blink of an eye, Hyungwon has a decision to make. So he makes it. He dives towards the opposite side of the net, just to make absolutely certain that he doesn’t stop the ball accidentally. It makes him look like a fool and his teammates groan and curse loudly at him but Hyungwon’s used to it by now.

The coach blows his whistle and the game ends. “You know what to do!” he bellows and Hyungwon’s team starts running their laps around the field while Kihyun’s team sits on the bleachers and smirks, clapping Jooheon on the back.

After the first lap, Wonho passes Hyungwon, hissing something about how he knew he should have picked Jooheon for his team. Hyungwon feels awful but then he passes the other team and sees Jooheon sitting there breathing without the help of his inhaler and he pushes on, pretending he didn’t hear Wonho’s comment.

After eight laps around the field, coach blows his whistle again. “Alright, hit the showers!” he yells, and everyone moves to obey. A few people send dirty looks Hyungwon’s way and he hunches in on himself, feeling bad about letting the team down. He walks slowly behind the others, making it to the locker room when half of his class is already in the showers.

Hyungwon heads to his locker to grab his towel and finds none other than Son Hyunwoo leaning against it, playing with his phone as he waits.

“Oh,” Hyungwon says involuntarily, freezing in place a few steps away. He figured he was going to get shit for causing his team to run laps but he didn’t think the boy he had a crush on would be leading the charge.

“Hi,” Hyunwoo smiles, standing up straight when he sees Hyungwon.

“Um,” Hyungwon mumbles, unsure of what to do. Why is he smiling? “Hi?”

Hyunwoo’s smile fades a little and he looks concerned. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“S-Sure, I guess,” Hyungwon answers, not moving any closer. He’s sure this must be some cruel prank from his teammates. Use Hyunwoo to draw him in and then shove him into a locker or something.

Hyunwoo stares expectantly, finally speaking when it’s obvious Hyungwon’s staying where he is. “It would be great and probably more private if you’d come closer.”

“Oh,” Hyungwon swallows, knowing he can’t deny a direct request from Hyunwoo like that. “Okay.”

Hyunwoo smiles again when Hyungwon comes closer, and as hard as he’s looking, Hyungwon can’t see any malice in it.

“Look,” Hyunwoo starts quietly when Hyungwon is right in front of him. “I know what you did out there for Jooheon. It couldn’t have been easy taking the blame for missing that shot but, I think it was pretty damn cool.”

Hyungwon looks around and sees Jooheon at his locker, half-dressed from his shower and still getting pats on the back from his teammates as he pulls on his shirt. Jooheon has a smile on his face and he’s probably never been in a position to feel appreciated like that in gym class before. Hyungwon hasn’t either and he’s not going to risk ruining it for Jooheon. He’s prepared to have half his gym class hate him for a while.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says when he turns back to Hyunwoo, looking at his shoes instead of his face. “I just really suck at football, end of story.”

Hyunwoo stands there silently for another fifteen seconds and Hyungwon can feel Hyunwoo’s gaze on him but he refuses to look up at the other boy. It’s killing him but he thinks having such a close-up view of Hyunwoo isn’t good for his heart anyways.

“Alright. If you say so, end of story,” Hyunwoo gives in, sounding like he doesn’t believe Hyungwon for a second. He reaches out and squeezes Hyungwon’s shoulder as he passes and Hyunwoo feels his heart clench right along with it.

Hyungwon takes a second to breathe, and then gets his towel. If he doesn’t hurry, he won’t have time for a shower before the bell rings.

Chae Hyungwon still hates gym class. Only a week has passed and he’s not looking forward to the reminders of his failure from the week before that he’s sure Wonho and the others are going to throw at him.

Except, when Hyungwon walks into the locker room to change for class, no one says anything. No one even looks at him.

Hyungwon shrugs to himself and moves to his locker. The silent treatment is better than insults, he supposed.

“Hey Hyungwon,” Hyunwoo says, clapping Hyungwon on the shoulder as he passes, already dressed in his gym clothes.

 Hyungwon stares after him as he walks out the door. Okay, maybe not the silent treatment?

“Hey Chae,” Changkyun says as he follows Hyunwoo out.

Hyungwon stands there, bewildered with his gym shirt in his hands. Changkyun is one of those popular kids that Hyungwon didn’t even think knew his name.

It happens a few more times as Hyungwon is getting dressed and he’s seriously not sure what’s going on now. None of these people usually talk to him. He walks out to join his class, pushing his hair back as he goes and hopes for the best.

“This week’s form of torture,” the coach announces once everyone gathers in front of him, “is football again!”

Hyungwon groans internally. Seriously, you’d think football was the only sport that existed, the way they play it all the time.

“Team captains… Son Hyunwoo and Im Changkyun.”

Hyungwon sees Hyunwoo and Changkyun exchange a look as they take their places in front of everyone. He stares at his shoes and waits to be chosen last again.

“Hyungwon.” A voice calls out and Hyungwon’s head snaps back up, wondering why Hyunwoo’s calling him. Is he standing in the way of the person he had intended to call? He looks behind him and sees no one, so he looks back at Hyunwoo, confused.

“Care to join my team?” Hyunwoo is smiling at him, looking hopelessly endeared and Hyungwon doesn’t think anyone’s looked at him like that before.

“Oh, um, yes. Sorry.” Hyungwon answers a bit too enthusiastically probably, as he hurries over to stand next to him.

He barely hears Changkyun calling out Minhyuk’s name as Hyunwoo leans a little closer to him, placing a hand on the small of his back as he whispers, “Glad to have you.”

Hyungwon physically bit his lip to keep himself from replying “you can have me anytime you want.” It’s a struggle but he keeps it in, mumbling out a squeaky “thank you” before Hyunwoo calls out the next member on their team.

“Jooheon.” Hyunwoo’s next choice is Jooheon and Hyungwon knows what he’s doing. He’s picking all the people who get picked last first. Hyungwon thinks he might want to kiss him. Very badly. Right now. But that’s not exactly unusual. Hyungwon tries to clear his head and pay attention. He has to hold it together so he can make Hyunwoo proud of him.

Hyunwoo puts Hyungwon in goal again, leading him to the right one so there’s no confusion like last time.

In a brief moment of insanity, Hyungwon grabs Hyunwoo’s wrist before he can leave. “Thank you,” he says, “for picking me first. I know you’re just trying to be nice, letting the kids that get picked last feel great for once. It means a lot to me. You’re a great person, Hyunwoo.”

Hyunwoo smiles, eyes flickering down to Hyungwon’s hand as he lets go of Hyunwoo’s wrist. “The way I see it, letting the kid with asthma win so that he doesn’t have to run laps makes you a pretty great person too, Hyungwon. The other guys thinks so too. They’ll keep your secret.”

Hyungwon’s eyes widened. Of course, Hyunwoo would see through his lies. Hyungwon’s always been pretty transparent when it comes to Hyunwoo. No wonder people are talking to him, Hyunwoo told them what he’d done. It was sweet of him to make sure they wouldn’t tell Jooheon.  

“And I didn’t pick you just to be nice,” Hyunwoo mentions, brushing his hand against the side of Hyungwon’s hand, letting his fingers graze Hyungwon’s for a split second, making his heart skip and his mouth go dry. “If we win today, maybe we can go out to dinner together, to celebrate?”

Hyungwon swallows, looking at Hyunwoo and nodding dumbly. Did- Did Hyunwoo just ask him out on a date?

Hyunwoo grins cheekily, biting his bottom lip. “Great,” he says, taking a slow step back. “Now, let’s show them what Chae Hyungwon is really made of.”

Turns out, Hyungwon is still shit at football. They still lose, though it’s not entirely Hyungwon’s fault this time. Hyunwoo still takes him on a date though… and a couple more after that.