#Bag indicating this is either food taken home or this person is just having a nice shopping trip. The nails of the BG photographer.

[jonesthebonelord]

I could fucking do it. I think.

I CANT FUCKING DO IT

[pierregazly]

are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]

request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?

note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.

Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.

By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.

You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.

Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.

“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.

Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.

“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”

Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach. 

“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”

Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.

“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.

“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.

Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.

“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”

Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side. 

“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.

The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body. 

“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”

The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.

y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want 

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I��m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

[dearestjake]

Bye my first – Lee Jeno

Pairing: roommate/boyfriend! jaemin x reader x roommate/best friend! jeno

Genre: Fluff/Angst/College AU

Trigger Warning: swearing/unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 6.2k

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AUTUMN

“Hey,” You mumbled, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you held on to the pregnancy test in your hands – the two red lines evident in the tiny space in the middle of the said stick, indicating that you are pregnant and carrying your boyfriend’s child. You were practicing your lines, looking for the right words to say when you face your boyfriend but to no avail, you couldn’t find the right words to say; your mouth runs dry and you stutter at almost every word that escapes your mouth.

“Fuck this.” You muttered under your breath as you heaved a sigh, heading outside your bathroom and making a beeline towards your apartment’s balcony, letting the autumn wind brush through your hair as you sat down, admiring the sunset.

“Long day?” Jeno, asked as he sat down beside you, handing you one of the cans of cold beer he had brought for the two of you.

“Yeah.” You sighed, taking the beer he offered you and placing it down beside you.

“What’s up?” He asked, taking a sip from his beer.

“I’m pregnant.”

He stops for a moment, putting his beer down, averting his gaze from the setting sun to face you, his lips forming into a thin line.

Sighing, he scoots closer towards you, patting your back softly as he picked up his beer and taking a sip from it.

“Yep. Saw that coming, are you going to tell him?”

“Yeah… But I don’t really know how.” You sighed, resting your head on your best friend’s shoulder.

“You can just tell him like how you told me, y’know.”

“It’s not that easy.” You sighed.

“I know, but you have to tell him. It’s his responsibility – You’re his responsibility.”

“What if he doesn’t want it? You know he’s aiming for med school.”

“Then I’ll take care of it. I’m your best friend. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Psssh. Thought you wanted to be an engineer? Didn’t think you’d want to be a dad.” You said, giving him a weird look.

“Yeah. I do, I want to be an engineer. I’m just saying that if he doesn’t want the kid, we can raise it together like how our moms raised the both of us. I mean, it’s not like you can kill a child that easily– unless if you want to get an abortion, then I support it.” Jeno said, shrugging as he took another sip from his beer.

“No, I can’t do that. I–” You sighed.

“You have to tell him. You don’t have to worry; I got your back.”

“You’re not going to beat the shit out of him, are you?”

“I know Jaemin’s my best bro, but you’re my best friend too. He can’t fuck your life up just like that.” Jeno sighed, pausing for a moment to take another sip. “And yeah, I’ll beat the shit out of him if he refuses to take responsibility.” Jeno said, making you chuckle a bit.

“I’ll tell him when he gets home. Promise you have my back?”

“I promise. Really.” Jeno said, giving you a soft, reassuring smile.

Sighing, Jeno stood up from his seat, patting your back before disappearing to his room, leaving you alone in the balcony as the sun sets before you. It was a pretty sight – it was beautiful, but seeing the sun set and the darkness devour the entire city scared you, for that meant that Jaemin will come home and into the front door any time soon. You sigh, hugging your knees as you watched the buildings and the streetlights light up and brighten up the dark night. You sat there, staying still for another ten minutes, staring at the lights from the buildings and streetlights that brightens up the dark night skies of Seoul. You were just about to get up and head to your room when you heard a door open and close, making your heart race at the thought that it could be Jaemin coming through the front door but it wasn’t; it was just Jeno coming out of his room to go to the kitchen.

“Y/N.” He called out from across the kitchen counter.

“Yeah?’ You replied, averting your gaze from the bright city lights to look at him as you stood up and brushed your clothes.

“I’m feeling kind of lazy and we’ve run out of stock. I thought maybe we could order some takeout. Do you want anything?” He asked, leaning over the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know. Anything edible would do, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Is Chinese good with you–” He asked, getting cut off mid-sentence by the sound of the front door opening.

It’s Jaemin. He’s home.

“Hey.” Jaemin greeted, kicking his shoes off at the doorway. “I bought dinner for the three of us. I hope the both of you are okay with Chinese food.” He said, smiling as he lifted up the plastic bag that contained the ever-so-greasy-but-very-delicious Chinese food that he brought home.

“Chinese food’s fine. We were just about to order takeout.” Jeno said, leaving you alone in the kitchen to take the bag of takeout from Jaemin’s hands – just so that Jaemin can take off his coat and hang it on the coat rack by the door and so that he can set the food up.

“Hi.” Jaemin greeted, giving you a quick peck on your left cheek.

“Hey.” You said, flashing a small smile.

“Are you okay? You look kinda pale.”

“I’m fine… but… uh… we have to talk– I mean, I have to tell you something.” You said, bringing a hand up to your forehead to massage your temples in hopes of stopping yourself from thinking about the random thoughts that crossed your mind.

“O-Okay. Yeah, for sure. What is it?” Jaemin said, a hint of concern? confusion? maybe fear too, evident in his tone, but still he tried his best to smile his usual bright smile.

It was obvious that he was scared. He didn’t know what was going on in your head. He was afraid you’d break up with him when he loved you like you were his own world. You were everything to him, you were the first thing in his list of important things and med school was the third right next to his family.

“I-uh… I think it would be best if we talked in private.” You said taking a quick glance at Jeno who stood by the kitchen sink, giving you a nod, reassuring you that everything will be fine.

“Yeah, sure. That’s cool.” Jaemin said, swallowing the imaginary lump in his throat as he loosened his tie.

Taking a deep breath, you sighed, signaling Jaemin to come follow you to your room. You held the door open for Jaemin, waiting for him to get in. Jaemin sat himself down on the corner of your bed as you closed the door behind you. With how you were acting, walking back and forth across the room, Jaemin, being the worrywart he is, was looking at you with a worried expression plastered on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping you in your tracks and cutting your train of thoughts.

“Wha– Yes. I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t know how to tell you.” You said, biting the skin around your nails.

It was evident that you were nervous and Jaemin knew that because you only bit and picked at the skin surrounding your fingernails during times when you were nervous or scared, and he knew for sure that it was the former because he was sure that there was no reason for you to be afraid of him.

“Calm down. Sit beside me. Breathe.” He said, patting the vacant space beside him.

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what? If anything, I think I should be the one afraid because you pulled the “we need to talk” card on me. Who knows? I don’t know what goes on in your head, maybe you’re planning to break up with me.” He joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“What? No!”

“That’s good then, I guess.” He said, chuckling a bit.

“So…” You started, taking a deep breath and heaving a sigh.

“Yeah? Tell me babe, it’ll be fine. I promise.” He said, smiling a small smile as he held your hand.

“I’m pregnant, Jaemin. It’s yours.” You said in a low voice, though still loud enough for him to hear.

“I–” Jaemin started, stopping himself to swallow the imaginary lump in his throat, evident that he was taken aback by the sudden news that you are carrying his child.

He couldn’t say anything; not because he didn’t want it, and not because he didn’t see it coming. He knew it was bound to happen, he just didn’t expect it to happen now, considering the fact that he used a condom when you did it. But hey, condoms aren’t a hundred percent effective, there’s still this slim possibility that one can get pregnant even with the use of a contraceptive – you just happened to be that one person.

“I mean, whom else would it be? You’re the only one I’ve slept with–” You said, rambling on and on, getting cut off by Jaemin giving you a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’re rambling again.” He said, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“What do we do?” You asked, bringing your hand up to place on top of his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

“Whatever you think is right for the both of us.” He said, smiling a small smile. “What options do you have? Did you consider getting an abortion? Did you consider keeping it? Did you consider putting it up for adoption? Whatever you do, I’ll stand by you.”

“I don’t want to kill it. I don’t want to give it away either because what if it ends up in an abusive household? I want to keep it, Jaemin, but I also don’t want to hold you back from med school. I mean, you’re only a year away from getting into med school. If you’re not cool with it, then I’ll raise it by myself. I mean, my mom raised me by herself and I turned out fine.”

“What?– No! Of course, I want to be part of my child’s life. I mean it.”

“But what about med school?”

“Med school isn’t going anywhere. I can go to med school later. I’ll look for a job as soon as I graduate. I’ll get my nursing license. That’s good enough for me, as long as I won’t lose you. You know that I love you, right?”

“You can’t just throw your life away for me, Jaemin.”

“I’m not throwing my life away, Y/N. Just think of it as starting a new chapter with you and our kid. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaemin, for deciding to not flake on me.”

“Of course. Why would I flake on you?” He said, chuckling a bit as he pulled you in for a hug. “Now let’s eat our dinner, shall we? I hate cold noodles.” He said, pulling you up from your seat and out of the room, towards the kitchen counter where Jeno was sat, enjoying his bowl of noodles.

“So, guess what?” Jaemin asked, smiling from ear to ear. His eyes were glistening with joy, and excitement, and positivity.

Yes, he smiles a lot. That’s a given. Jaemin is a happy person, but it’s only once in a blue moon that you see his eyes glisten with pure joy and excitement. Even though you’ve been friends with Jeno and him your whole life; growing up together, going to the same schools and university and all that jazz, you’ve only seen the same exact expression whenever he got a new toy that he wanted so very badly from his mom, when he’s about to try a new kind of food for the first time, and when he passed his nursing college exam. Seeing that made you happy, because that made you sure that he wouldn’t leave.

“What?” Jeno asked, not bothering to look at Jaemin. He was too focused on eating his noodles.

“I’m going to be a dad!” Jaemin said excitedly, smiling over at Jeno who stayed unfazed by the news, as he stirred the noodles that he got for you.

“Hmhm.” Jeno hummed, nodding as he took another mouthful of his food.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Jaemin asked, his excited smile turning into a bored expression.

“Hmhm.”

“You’re no fun. You could’ve at least acted surprised you know, even though it’s fake.” Jaemin said, pouting as he handed you the bowl of noodles that he had mixed for you. “Kinda bummed that you knew before I did.”

“Dude, I saw it coming even before she told me. She made me run to the drugstore mid-shower.”

“I did not.” You gasped, appalled.

“Yeah, you did.” Jeno said.

“Oh yeah, I did. Sorry about that. I panicked.”

“Who wouldn’t? It’s cool though. I understand, I’ve been through this–”

“What?” Both you and Jaemin exclaimed, cutting Jeno off.

“I know what you guys are thinking. No. I didn’t get anyone pregnant. I’ve never even had a girlfriend. It was for my sister.”

“What about that Yeeun girl? Didn’t you go to prom with her? I’ve always thought that she was your girlfriend because you guys were always together even though she was our senior.”

“Okay, first of all, she wasn’t my girlfriend. Second, even if she was, I would never sleep with her, because I was just seventeen back then. And third, yes. I did go to prom with her but just because the girl I wanted to go to prom with already had a date.”

“Who did you want to go to prom with?” You asked.

Jeno sighs, pushing his now empty bowl on the side so he could rest his arms on the counter. “Just this girl that I liked for a really long time.”

“Come on, tell us. Who was it?” Jaemin asked, taking a mouthful of his now cold noodles.

“Just… someone.” Jeno sighed, taking a quick glance at you before getting up from his seat, taking his bowl with him to the sink, washing it before he stormed off into his room.

It was you. He wanted to go to prom with you. Yeeun was just someone who liked him a lot and tried to force herself in his life; he just went to prom with her in hopes of making her stop following him everywhere he goes – which fortunately did happen, after he told her off while keeping as polite as he could. Thankfully though, Yeeun took it well, swallowed up her pride and did her best to understand Jeno’s situation and wished him luck. Yeeun was a good person; she was smart, kind, and she was a very nice person in general. In fact, he did like her, but only as a friend. It was you he liked the most. You were his person and he knew that. He wanted you to be his partner in crime, his other half, the moon to his stars, the peanut butter in his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he wanted to give his whole life to you – it’s just that Jaemin beat him up to it and never got the chance to tell you how he truly felt about you.

Shutting the door behind him, Jeno flicked the light switch off, leaving his room illuminated by the dim LED lights on the sides of his ceiling. One second, it’s red, then blue, and purple, and green – it changed every second, very much like the emotions he felt when you told him you were pregnant. He wasn’t completely sure whether he should be happy that Jaemin decided to raise the kid with you or not. He knew that he wanted to be happy for you, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it a hundred percent; because to him, that meant that he had to say goodbye to you, his first love.

Sighing, Jeno swiveled his gaming chair towards his desk, flicking his desk lamp on as he grabbed a pen and his notepad.

“Love I only have you

When I said

I’ll put my life on the line

To prove you will be my last love was yesterday

It was a clumsy first love, love

I’m always by your side, next to you

I followed you around everywhere I might as well stick to you

I thought everything would work out if we did everything together…”

He hummed as he wrote along his notepad, tapping his pen every now and then whenever he had to think of the right words that would go well with the song he was trying to write. Like all of his other compositions, he wrote this one for you. Well, it’s not like he could tell you how he felt about you for the past ten years; you already had Jaemin and he knew very well that you loved your boyfriend a lot, so he writes songs – about you and how he felt about you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WINTER

“Y/L/N. Is There a Y/N Y/L/N in here?” The nurse from the nurse’s station called out.

“Yep. That’s me!”

“Dr. Qian will see you now, please head to the ultrasound room.” The nurse said, placing her clipboard back down on her desk.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself as you got up from your seat in the waiting room, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you made your way towards the ultrasound room.

“Hey, welcome back! How have you been feeling lately?” Kun, your gynecologist, greeted as soon as you went in.

“Hey, I’ve been good. Tummy’s starting to show up a bit, now that I’m in my twenty-first week.”

“Shall we get started?” He asked, leading you to the examination bed.

“Yeah, but can we wait for my companion? He went to the washroom.”

“Sure. But please, make yourself comfortable and let’s get you prepped up for the examination and then we’ll start when he gets back.” He said, smiling politely as he applied the warm gel across your stomach.

“Hey.” Jeno greeted as he silently went in the room, taking a seat at the seat beside you.

“Shall we start now?” Kun asked once again, earning a nod from you.

There it was, the tiny human being living inside you on the screen with its tiny hands and feet. It kind of looked like it was waving its hands “hello”, making you feel a sudden wave of emotions simultaneously, making you tear up a bit.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked, holding your hand, smiling a small smile as he looked at you with concern plastered on his face.

“Yeah, just a bit emotional.” You said, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“Don’t cry ‘cause if you keep that up, I’ll end up crying too.” Jeno joked, making you chuckle a bit. “Look at it, it’s so cute and terrifying at the same time. I heard it has fingernails too.” He said, scooting his chair closer to you.

“They do. I mean, they do have fingernails.” Kun chimed in.

“Damn, I thought that was fake news.” Jeno said. “Did you hear that baby? You have fingernails! You better not scratch your way out your mom’s belly. That’d be bloody as heck.” Jeno said, moving closer to your belly, pretending to talk to the baby but much to your surprise the baby started kicking upon hearing Jeno’s remark, making the both of you laugh.

“The baby kicked! I guess the kid likes to joke around with its dad.” Kun said.

“Oh, I–I’m not the dad.” Jeno said, awkwardly scratching the nape of his neck as he leaned back on his chair.

“Oh.” Kun said with wide eyes as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. My mistake. Anyway, would you like to know the baby’s gender?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, please.” You said, nodding.

“Well, your baby is a boy. He’s completely healthy; heart rate’s normal and all, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He said, wiping off the gel from your abdomen. “I’ll see you again in four months.” Kun said with a smile as he handed you a clear photo of your ultrasound.

“Thanks Dr. Qian, I’ll see you soon.” You said as Jeno helped you get up from the examination bed.

The walk on the way to the bus stop was silent; it wasn’t awkward or anything, it was rather comfortable and it was silent just because you didn’t really have anything to say and neither did Jeno. The two of you just simply walked together with both of your hands stuffed in your own coat pockets, gripping at the now cold disposable hand warmers that Jeno had gotten the both of you earlier before you went to the doctor.

You let out a soft sigh, bringing your hands up to your mouth, breathing into them in attempt to warm them up a little bit, but to no avail, it didn’t really do anything.

“You good?” Jeno asked for what seemed like the nth time, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, letting out a sigh, shivering when the cold wind hit your skin.

“Give me your hands. You can have my hand warmers, they’re still a bit warm.” He said, giving you his hand warmers. “Do you feel better now?” He asked.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to give me your hand warmers though.”

“You need it more than I do, so I want you to have it. Wear this too, your scarf’s too thin, your neck’s gonna get cold." He said, smiling a bit as he wrapped his thick scarf around your neck. “You have to take good care of yourself. You know, you have to keep yourself healthy, for the baby and all.”

“Thanks, Jeno.”

“It’s all good. You don’t have to thank me.”

“Still, I want to thank you. For always being there.” You said, smiling over at Jeno.

He didn’t really say anything, instead, he slung his arm around your shoulders as he smiled, pulling you closer to him and taking your bag to carry it himself. Afterall, looking after you and being there for you was the least that he could do as your best friend. As usual, just like what the two of you used to do when you were in high school, the both of you sat at the back of the bus, you on the seat by the window, and Jeno on his spot by the aisle. As for Jaemin, he would either stand and use the hand rails, or sit on the seat next to yours; and just like now, it was always Jeno by your side.

You were greeted by the warmth of your apartment when you opened the door; the lights were off, it was quiet – the only thing that could be heard was the jingling of your house keys and your faint breathing.

“Do you want me to start the fire?” Jeno asked, tossing his keys to the kitchen counter.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to if you don’t feel like it. It’s a lot of work anyway.” You shrugged, plopping yourself on the couch.

“Nah, I’ll get the fire started in a bit. Just give me a minute to get out of these clothes. I’ll change into something more comfortable. You should get changed too, though it’s much better if you took a warm bath to remove the gel from earlier. I’ll get the hot water running.”

“Thanks, Jeno.”

“It’s no big deal.” He said, smiling a small smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

It wasn’t that long before Jeno came back to the living room in a fresh pair of sweatpants and his favourite blue hoodie with his guitar strapped around his torso.

“Hot water’s ready, you should take a bath. I’ll get the fire started.” He said, sitting next to the fireplace, setting the firewood and lighting it on fire.

You nodded, flashing Jeno a small smile, hugging him from behind.

It’s just a hug; it wasn’t much but it made his heart jump – the butterflies in his stomach, went into some type of frenzy as if they’ve been released for the first time after being locked up in a lepidopterarium for a very long time. He felt the same feelings he felt when you were both seventeen, when you kissed him on the swings of the local playground after you ran away from Mark’s 18th birthday party. He remembers it like it was yesterday; Afterall, it was his first kiss – you were his first kiss, and he was yours too, you were just too drunk to remember that because you’ve had a few drinks that night.

“I–I think you should take a bath now.” Jeno said, clearing his throat as he slowly removed your arms around his waist.

With that, Jeno sighed as he placed the matchbox on top of the fireplace, watching you walk on the way to the bathroom. Plopping himself on the couch, Jeno cleared his throat as he picked up his guitar on the floor, placing it on his lap, making it a table for his notepad as he wrote lyrics for his song that he never got to finish.

“Ooh I know everything everyone else knows…now that I am not young… I told you to trust me, Love doesn’t end with experiences. I don’t think I’ll get over it...” He hummed, biting his pen before scribbling the lyrics onto his notepad.

“I think that sounds… okay?” He muttered to himself, scratching his head as he adjusted his glasses. “I guess I’ll have to try playing it. That’s the only way I can find out.” He said, sighing as he placed his notepad aside, clearing his throat as he started stumming his guitar.

“Fuck this.” He muttered to himself, annoyed. “Why is it that I can’t find the motivation to finish this fucking song?” He said, grunting as he covered his face with his notepad.

“Maybe it’s because you lack inspiration? Maybe you need to go somewhere to find inspiration?” You said, lifting his notepad off of his face.

“What? – No!” Jeno exclaimed, eyes shooting open as soon as he heard your voice, snatching his notepad from your hands.

“Hey!”

“No. You can’t read the lyrics.” He said, hugging his notepad tightly.

“Why? You always let me read it.”

“Not today. It’s not yet done.” He said. He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t being completely honest as to why he didn’t want you to read it either – he was afraid that it was too obvious that the song was about you.

“Okay, chill. I won’t read it if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

“Instead, can you play something? I heard it’s good to make the baby listen to music.”

“Sure.” He said, strumming his guitar, playing a familiar tune.

You knew what he was playing. It was all too familiar; you just couldn’t put your finger on it. You knew what it was but you weren’t sure where you heard it. Not until he started singing the lyrics.

“Come with me, my love

To the sea. The sea of love.

I want to tell you, how much I love you…”

It was the song that his mom always sang to the three of you when you were kids; the song that always put you to sleep, the song that comforted you whenever you were sad. It was the song that Jeno always played for you on his guitar when you were in high school. It’s been a while since he sang this song.

“How could I forget that?” You thought to yourself, shaking your head lightly before humming along to Jeno’s singing.

For the second time, Jeno repeated the same lyrics he sang earlier, only this time, he looked at you dearly as he sang the words “I love you”. You didn’t think too much about it, he always did that every time he sang this song for you and you always thought that it was nothing. Afterall, you’re already in a relationship with Jaemin. Though it didn’t mean anything to you, for Jeno, it meant a lot because that’s the only way he could tell you how much he loved you without you noticing it.

It’s selfish of him to love you while you’re in a relationship with his best friend. He knew that; but he also knew that he loved you first, it just so happened that Jaemin asked you out first. It just so happened that his timing was off and all he can do now is to look after you from afar, love you in secret, take good care of you as his best friend, and be there for you in your happiest moments even though it hurt him deeply. He knows it’s selfish to hang around you, but he just finds it hard to let you go even though he wants to wish you the best. He’s happy to see you happy but it hurts him to see you happy with another person when you were happier with him before you and Jaemin got together.

“Jeno! He kicked! The baby kicked.” You said excitedly, pulling Jeno’s hand and placing it on top of your baby bump. “Feel it.”

“I don’t feel anything–” Jeno shrugged, getting cut off mid-sentence by the baby kicking. “Oh, shit!” Jeno said excitedly, chuckling a little bit.

“I guess he likes the song too.”

“Maybe he does?” He shrugged. “You like it, don’t you?” He asked, moving closer to your belly as he talked to the baby, earning another kick.

“Woah, I guess he really does like it. He’s quite a kicker though.” You said, laughing a bit.

“Well, I’m glad to know that I have a fan.”

“Hey! I was your first fan–” You said, punching Jeno’s arm playfully, getting cut off by the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Jaemin!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your seat, running towards Jaemin, leaving Jeno alone in the couch.

“How was your appointment?” He asked, kicking his shoes to the side of the doorway as he gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“It was fine, Jeno helped me carry my bag so it wasn’t hard going there and getting home.” You shrugged, resting your hands on your waist. “Oh! And I have something for you.” You exclaimed, running to the living room, fishing through your bag for the picture of your ultrasound.

“Here.” You said, handing Jaemin the photo.

“Wow.” He smiled, tracing the outline of his son’s tiny hand with his index finger. “Did your doctor tell you the gender?”

“Yeah. It’s a boy. We’re having a boy, Jaemin.” You said, excitement evident in your tone.

“That’s amazing!” Jaemin said excitedly, wrapping you in a tight hug as he smiled excitedly.

Jeno couldn’t do anything but sigh as he sat alone in the couch, watching you share your news to your boyfriend. He was hurt because of the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he could’ve been the one to celebrate this news with you if only he didn’t hold himself back from telling you how he felt back then – but then again, what’s done is done. He can’t bring back the past, the only thing he can do now is to be happy for you, so he gathered his things and went to his room. Putting his guitar aside next to his full body mirror, Jeno walked towards his computer, plugging in the speakers that he got from his sister on his birthday last year, playing his playlist before plopping himself on his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling before eventually falling asleep.

It was already two in the afternoon when he woke up the next day; it’s not like it mattered though, besides, it was a Sunday and he didn’t have any classes.

“Jeno?” Jaemin called out from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?” He replied, groggily rubbing his eye with the back of his hand as he turned off his music that had been playing since the night before.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” Jeno said, ridding of his hoodie as he changed into his oversized batch shirt. “Come in.” He said, opening the door for Jaemin.

“Can I talk to you?” Jaemin asked.

“Sure. About what?”

“About this.” Jaemin said, fishing a small velvet box from the pocket of his sweatpants. “What do you think? Do you think she’ll like it?” He asked, revealing a silver ring with tiny diamonds surrounding it upon opening the box.

“W–Wow.” Jeno gasped, speechless. “I guess this is the end.” He thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he answered, “Yeah… I think she’ll love it.” He said, flashing Jaemin a reassuring smile.

“Glad that you think so.” Jaemin said, letting out a relieved sigh as he closed the box and slid it back into his pocket. “I have a favor though.”

“What is it?”

“Can you drive Y/N to the local amusement park at four o’clock?” Jaemin asked, looking at Jeno as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“Yeah, for sure. Four o’ clock. Yeah, got it.”

“Thanks, Jeno. Take her to the middle of the amusement park, okay? Right by the gazebo.”

“Got it.” Jeno smiled, letting out a sigh as soon as Jaemin left his room.

“Fuck.” He sighed to himself as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his temples as he looked at the floor beneath his feet.

As much as it hurt him, it’s not like he can do anything about it so even though he hated the idea of it, the only thing he can do is to do what was right to make you happy – that being, driving you to the amusement park two hours from now and watch you get engaged to the father of your child. For this he knew that he had to get ready, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Physically – he needed to take a shower and change into new clothes, wear a coat, look nice for one of the happiest moments of your life; mentally - he needed to accept that it’s the end for his unrequited love for you; and emotionally – he needed to stop whatever it is that he feels about you and just be happy for you. With that in his plate, he dragged himself to the bathroom to take a shower, slid on a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and the coat that you got him for Christmas last year.

“Hey, Jaemin told me to bring this to him in the hospital, can you drop me off?” You said, swinging Jeno’s door open.

“I was just about to tell you to get dressed because Jaemin asked me to drop you off.”

“Oh. Let’s go, then.” You said, leading the way out of your front door with Jeno following you from behind.

The drive on the way to the amusement park was silent, it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable – just like how it always was. The only thing that could be heard was the faint sound of the wipers on the windshield, the faint sound of your breathing, and the sound of the hot air coming out of the heater.

“This isn’t the way to the hospital.” You said, watching the buildings pass by.

“Just trust me on this one.” Jeno said, making a u-turn towards the entrance of the local amusement park.

“Jeno, what are we doing here?” You asked as Jeno stopped to park the car in an empty parking slot.

“Just trust me.” He said, hopping out of the car and holding the door open for you. “Follow me.” He said, holding your hand as he leads the way to the center of the park.

“Jeno, stop. I have to bring Jaemin’s medical kit to the hospital–” You said, getting cut off mid-sentence my Jaemin calling out your name.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

“I asked Jeno to drive you here, don’t worry.”

“I thought you were at the hospital. What are you doing here?”

“I just thought that…” He said, pausing for a moment as he got on one knee, fishing the same velvet box he showed Jeno earlier in the pocket of his slacks.

“Jaemin…” You gasped covering your face, knowing fully well what he’s doing.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you know that I love you, right?” He asked as you got teary-eyed, making him chuckle. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You said, nodding excitedly, earning loud cheers from the people that gathered around to witness Jaemin’s grand proposal.

This was it. The end. This is the end for Jeno’s feelings for you and he knew it.

“I hope you’re happy. I’ll love you, forever and always, remember that. Goodbye, my first.” Jeno said silently to himself as he walked silently back to his car.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact. 

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication. 

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive. 

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.” 

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both." 

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours. 

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it. 

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night. 

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you. 

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood. 

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you. 

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey. 

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.” 

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble. 

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek. 

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face. 

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” 

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much. 

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends." 

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks. 

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises. 

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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[karmasuna]

headcanons for Bakugou, Todoroki and Sero (or anyone else you want to add) turning into cats via quirk and their crush just thinks it's a stray cat wandering the dorms so they pet it, give them love, feed them (human cat safe food), compliment them and take pictures and they're just eating it all up, the attention. The temptation to put a cucumber near them is strong

 i had to search up what cucumbers did to cats wwwww the more you know

Bakugo Katsuki

○ one day as you’re going down to the kitchen to grab some breakfast as usual you spot a small blonde cat curled up in the middle of the hallway

○ the cat’s very hostile too, hissing at anyone who tries to approach him. Kirishima’s the only one who doesn’t get all scratched up

○ and after Koda tries and fails to talk to the cat and ends up running away looking traumatized, everyone makes sure to stay at least six feet away from the angry fluffball that had made their dorm his home

○ when you try to approach the cat glaring at you from its spot on the floor your classmates scream at you not to do it, not wanting you to get all scratched up either

○ the cat had scratched up Todoroki’s face, and no one was happy about resident pretty boy’s face being damaged even a little

○ but apparently you’re in the clear. the cat lets you get close enough to pat his soft fur gently without him trying to injure you at all

○ so you become his designated caretaker until your class figures out what to do with him

○ looking at the cat, you wanted to show Bakugo much much the cat resembled him, but surprisingly he’s not there, and when you get to class Aizawa says that he’s taken an excused absence for family affairs, so you don’t really think about it much, just a little bummed he couldn’t meet the cat until he came back to school

○ he’s always with you wherever you go, sitting on your lap as you work and even curling up next to you when you go to sleep

○ you take lots of pictures of the cat and with him too, cooing at the small animal and telling him how adorable he was, giving him gentle kisses on his face

○ you’ve just become so accustomed to the cat in your life over the next week 

○ so when you wake up one morning to see Bakugo of all people next to you in your bed your heart nearly jumps out of your chest 

○ like why is your crush in your bed???

○ but you don’t say anything, deciding that you might as well savor the moment and admire how peaceful he looked when he was asleep and not yelling at people

○ that’s when you realize the cat is gone but now Bakugo’s here

○ and it doesn’t take much for you to connect the dots and realize that the cat was him all along

○ when he woke up, boy would you have lots of stuff to talk about

○ you’re really embarrassed about having practically kissed him and slept in the same bed with him for the past week, apologizing for basically invading his personal space

○ but the unusually soft gaze he gave you wasn’t something you’d ever thought you would see from him

○  “Would you have done all that crap if you knew it was me?”

○ his question throws you off guard, but you decide you might as well shoot your shot

○ “I would’ve given you more kisses if I knew.”

○ he instantly turns to face you and give you all the smooches you could ever want 

Todoroki Shoto

○ one day after school you return to your room to find a cat on your bed

○ there’s no indication as to where the cat came from or where you should return him to, so you just settle for taking care of him until you figure out what to do with him

○ fixing him a little fish and a water bowl so that he wouldn’t be hungry 

○ petting him gently as you watch him gently lap up some water, and you’re struck by how much the cat resembles your crush

○ most of his fur’s white, save for a little splotch of brown on his left eye, and he also had heterochromic eyes just like Todoroki

○ so you call the cat Todo-chan, and since he seems to respond to the name it just kind of sticks

○ he’s a relatively calm cat, and most of the him he just sits there next to you quietly, blinking up at you with his bi-colored eyes

○ and you come to realize that he /loves/ belly rubs. at first you’re really surprised that the cat even let you go anywhere near his stomach, but you don’t worry about it too much when he starts purring softly from your actions

○ he’s also a great listener too, and he seems to understand you when you talk to him about your worries, and the way he softly nuzzles your stomach and tries to wrap his body around you like a hug always makes you feel a lot better after you let all your worries out

○ although at first he’s not really that touchy of a cat, over time he starts to open up more to you, coming over to sit on your lap while you work, but never disturbing you too much

○ one day you’re curled up in bed with him, talking quietly about how much you missed Todoroki ever since he had to suddenly return home and take an extended absence from school for a “family event”

○ telling the small cat next to you about your feelings for the boy and talking about how you wanted to get closer to him

○ you slowly fall asleep in the middle of your words, and when you wake up Todo-chan’s nowhere to be seen for the first time since you met him

○ but Todoroki’s back in school, so that was something you were happy about

○ and he’s come back with a present for you too, a cute pair of earrings that you had had your eye on for a while 

○ you’re surprised that he even knew you wanted them, since you hadn’t told anyone about them to your knowledge

○ he calmly tells you that he had been hit by a quirk that turned him into a cat for the last few days and that’s why he wasn’t at school, and you quickly realize what he’s trying to tell you

○ you’re embarrassed to have told him so many of your weird thoughts, but he stops you and tells you that he was glad he knew more about you now, apologizing for not telling you sooner

○ and he confesses to you, admitting that he never tried to act on his feelings for you before because he wasn’t sure whether you returned them

○ “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N, and I don’t want to waste any more time being a coward and hiding my feelings from you.”

Sero Hanta

○ from the moment Aizawa had showed up to class, announced that your class would temporarily be taking care of a cat and immediately followed it up by saying that Sero wouldn’t be in school for a few days due to “personal reasons” and not to contact him, you had a sneaking suspicion that the cat was no normal cat

○ it didn’t take you too long to guess what had happened and assume that Sero had somehow been transformed into a cat

○ it was no secret that Sero had a crush on you, and the only reason you two aren’t officially dating was simply because he never asked you out

○ and the cat not only looked like him, but was also always attached to you, literally

○ sitting in your lap in class, and even sleeping next to you in your bed

○ so you figured you would use the chance to have some fun with him since he thought you had no idea that the cat was in fact, your /not-official/ boyfriend

○ getting cat costumes from Aizawa for your resident class cat to try on and take photos with to laugh at him in the future (why your class teacher had a princess cat costume, you didn’t want to know)

○ and hiding cucumbers around the dorms to freak him out when he turned a corner, secretly filming his reactions when you could 

○ your class all agree to pretend not to know anything when the quirk wears off, sticking to Aizawa’s story of “personal reasons”

○ but one day you accidentally let it slip that you knew it was him all along

 “Gosh, I liked it way better when you were a cat, Hanta- god dammit!”

 “You knew it was me all along?”

 “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

 “Why’d you keep on kissing me if you knew it was me?”

 “I’d kiss you if you weren’t a cat too, you idiot.”

 “T-then why didn’t you ever do it?”

 “You never asked me to.”

○ you guy definitely make it official after that though

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

The Texas sun beats mercilessly down on the back of your neck, the air thick and slow as dark molasses. You tied your sweater around your waist, but even that was too much for your sweating skin, so now it just hangs limply from your fingers.

 You manage to hitch a lift from a family of three on a cross-state road trip – the parents were both betas, the little girl in the back unpresented. You tell them you’re heading back to college from visiting your family, that your car packed up some three miles back. You also tell them you’re a beta. Two truths and a lie.

 They pull into a small gas station in Travis County called Cele Community Centre to fill up, while you step inside the sore to ask to use the phone. A middle-aged woman with cats-eye spectacles stands behind the counter, a couple of leather-clad bikers sitting at a table littered with beer bottles.

 The phone’s busted, but when you explain about your car, she offers a different option. Her brother’s got a tow truck – he could go pick up your car and bring it back for repair. It’s too good an offer to refuse, so you wave goodbye to the beta family and take a seat in the diner. The woman – Luda May Hewitt, she introduces herself – gives you a soda on the house and asks you about yourself. You tell her about your parents, your brother in the army, your little sister about to graduate high school. By the time her brother arrives – a unkempt, bespectacled man she calls Monty – you feel as though you’ve been talking to a matronly aunt for the past hour. She’s kind, with good old-fashioned Southern values, and so when she asks if you’d like to join them for supper, you accept. Monty says your car needs a new valve or something, which he has back at the homestead, so you hop in the cab of his truck next to Luda May.

 The Hewitt family home is a large farmhouse, with sprawling fields surrounding and a dilapidated garage. Monty parks up in the front yard and disappears, presumably to find the missing piece for your car. You shoulder your bag and follow Luda May inside the house. It’s not particularly clean, but your mother raised you to be polite, so you accept some sweet tea and some homemade biscuits.

 Shortly, another man appears in the kitchen – this one younger and more well-presented than Monty - who introduces himself as Sheriff Hoyt. A rough, brutish scent of alpha pheromones follows him through the door, but you know by instinct its not from him.

 “Tommy,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at a hulking figure beyond the doorway. “Come say hello to our guest.”

 The person who steps into the room has to be the largest man you’ve never seen. Not only is he tall – at least six and a half feet – but he’s also broad; wide shoulders, muscular arms, and a chest like a barrel. Despite the suppressants you’ve been careful to keep concealed in your bag, your glands tingle pleasantly as his scent washes over you. Your nose recognises earth, leather and sweat, but your finer-tuned olfactory senses catch hints of sandalwood, charcoal, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. You contribute this to the butcher’s apron he’s wearing tied around his thick waist – the dark brown stains a clear indication of animal slaughter. While this doesn’t exactly strike you as comforting, you can’t deny his scent is . . . appealing.

 You focus on his face for just a moment, not wanting to stare. His dark hair is long and wavy, most of his face concealed beneath a crude leather mask, revealing only his eyes, forehead and a small glimpse of chapped lips. The space where his nose would be beneath the mask is strangely flat, leading you to suspect some kind of physical deformity. His shadowed eyes catch yours and you look away in embarrassment.

 “This here’s Thomas, my boy,” Luda May says. “Tommy, meet Y/N.”

 “Hey,” you rise to your feet and hold out a hand. Even at your full height, you barely come up to his chest. “Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

 He doesn’t speak or move to shake your hand, but his right-hand fingers flex at his side, so you can tell he wants to. Moreover, you can smell it on him. The pheromones he’s giving off betray his interest, and your face flushes at the thought that such an impressive alpha’s attention is directed at you. Eventually, you lower your hand and return to your seat, taking a sip of tea to hide your awkwardness.

 “So,” Hoyt says, sitting down opposite you and placing his hat on the table. “Y/N, what are you?”

 You know what he’s trying to say, even if the question comes across as a little rude.

 “I’m a beta, sir,” you say.

 “Seems the whole dang state’s beta these days,” he says, leaning back and accepting a glass of tea from Luda May. “Tommy’s pretty much the only alpha ‘round these parts, and as for omegas, forget it.”

 Praying that your suppressants are doing their job, you nod along with his words and try not to focus on Thomas, who’s still standing like a full-door draft excluder in the corridor. You wonder if his senses are strong enough to tell that you’re lying. Surely if they were, he’d say something, wouldn’t he? Such a big strong alpha like him, wouldn’t be able to help himself.

 Big strong alpha . . .

 The thought makes you shiver slightly, and you notice Thomas shift where he stands. Covering your neck as casually as you can with one hand, you pretend to be intently interested in what Hoyt is saying. As he’s illustrating the hardships of being the county’s only sheriff, Monty appears, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

 “Well, hope you didn’t have nowhere to be anytime soon, ‘cause that tin can sure ain’t going without a new carburetor.”

 Your heart sinks – the car was a gift from your parents when you got into UT, and you’d taken good care of it since. How had it sustained so much damage without you realising?

 “D’you know where I can get a new one?”

 He blows his cheeks out. “Nowhere ‘round here. Next town, maybe; ‘bout twenty miles north.”

 You mentally count the small handful of notes folded in your wallet – your mom had given you $50 to get back to college, enough for fuel and food along the way, plus extra to stay in a motel. Certainly not enough for such a hefty repair.

 “Course,” Hoyt says, a strange smile playing at the corner of his lips, “Uncle Monty’d be more’n happy to drive through for one tomorrow, wouldn’t ya, Monty?”

 Monty nods slowly. “Be my pleasure.”

 A strange tension has fallen over the small room, setting the hairs on the back of your neck a-prickle. Hoyt’s eyes are burning into you with a fierce intensity, almost . . . hunger, Monty bearing a smile, too leery to be comforting. You’re wondering if you’ve made a mistake in coming here, when Thomas moves from the shadows, his scent passing over you. Your shoulders drop a little, his presence proving an inexplicable reassurance to you. You know it’s your hormones talking; with such an alpha nearby, you’re safe. It takes a nudge from the logical side of your brain to remind you that biology is not fact, and you could be very, very far from safe with these people.

 You clear your throat, mouth suddenly dry.

 “Well, that’s awful kind of you. Is there, um . . . a motel or something I could stay at tonight?”

 “Motel?” Luda May laughs. “Don’t be so silly, honey – you’ll stay here.”

 You turn to look at her, her warm, motherly gaze refilling some of the certainly draining from you. Maybe you’re just being paranoid. After all, you’re a young woman – an omega, no less – so it’s no wonder that Hoyt and Monty might act strangely around you, whether they realise it or not. As for Thomas, well . . .

 “I don’t want to be a bother, ma’am.”

 “Oh hush, you’re no bother at all, and call me Luda.” She takes an old apron from a hook on the wall and nods towards the door. “Tommy’ll show you to the spare room and then you can help me start dinner.”

 Thomas looks as surprised by the idea of being alone with you as you are, his gargantuan posture stiffening. His eyes flit from Luda May to you, unsure of what to do.  

 “Go on, boy, m’sure she don’t bite,” Hoyt chuckles.

 But does he? Your mind races as you lift your bag and follow Thomas from the kitchen. His heavy footsteps make the floorboards shake as he ascends the stairs, decidedly not looking anywhere in your direction. The room he takes you to is small, barely more than a box room, with a narrow cot bed, a chest of drawers, and a dirty sink built into the wall. The white ceramic has been long since hidden beneath a layer of brown grime, and the light from the window is filtered through what looks like years of dirt.

 You turn your head to thank Thomas, but the words die on your tongue when you see how close he is. His chest is heaving, and you suspect he’s . . . smelling you. Shit. You remember the mace your mom forced you to take with you, stowed safely away at the bottom of your pack. There’s no way you could get to it before he could grab you. He’s so big – his hands could easily encompass your entire head – you’re sure he could do irreparable damage without breaking so much as a sweat. His eyes – how had you not noticed how blue they are? – are fixed on you, all trace of shyness gone. You raise a hand – to do what, you’ve no idea – and stifle a shriek when he takes hold of your arm with surprising agility. Your blood stills as he lifts your wrist to his face, the air whistling through his nostrils beneath the mask as he breathes in your scent. He must know – there’s no way he can’t. He must either be the strongest alpha you’ve ever encountered, or on the brink of his rut, to detect your omega scent through your suppressants. Or both.

 Part of you wants to run, to scream for help, but you can’t; your legs won’t move.

 “Please . . .” you whisper, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re pleading for. Your eyes meet for one long, electrifying moment.

 “Tommy, get down here! We got trespassers!”

 Thomas drops your hand like it’s scalding hot, disappearing from the room and down the stairs after Hoyt’s harsh commands. You stand rooted to the spot, your heart beating a brand against your ribcage, and the bed creaks ominously beneath you as you drop down onto it. Fishing in your bag, you pull out the thin blister pack of pills, swallowing one dry. You have enough to get you safely back to Austin – you’ll just have to hope your stay here is a short one.

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.

[almond-arlet]

Heavenly | Nanami x Reader

“Because this is where I wanna be, where it’s so sweet and heavenly, I’m giving you all my love.” - cigarettes after sex

this is my first time writing anything on here so I’m a noob, pls go easy on me. i also haven’t written much in a long time since this pandemic started so...

Warnings: none! just some nanami fluff bc I miss him.

“HE’S LATER THAN USUAL.” You think out loud, looking at the clock indicating that it was a little after 8pm hanging on the wall before you. You decided to get comfier on the couch you were seated on, resuming the task of reading a book you had left on your shelf for way longer than you should have. You had wanted to surprise your long term boyfriend with a visit to his place. You knew he sometimes finished work much later than his usual time, which was 6pm, but he often worked hard to be clocking out of his space as soon as the big hand hit 12. He loathed working overtime, after all.

Your relationship with Nanami Kento was an unexpected surprise, having not been attracted to him in the slightest at first. Sure, you acknowledged that he was physically attractive, but his stiff and inflexible personality was something you didn’t quite vibe with. You met him a few times when you worked morning shifts at a coffee shop he frequented. He would always answer your ‘how are you?’ with the same one word, fine, monotonous and barely sparing you a glance. Then you began working at a local bar that often had karaoke nights and your superiors would always put you in charge with setting up for the half-drunken ‘singers’.

One day you decided to (you were forced to by a colleague) sing yourself, and it seemed to have grabbed the attention of a guest who had visited the bar for the first time. You knew that because his high cheek-boned, sharp jawed, pointed nose and stiff posture made him stand out like a sore thumb. He came every night in case you sang again. On the days you didn’t sing, he’d make sure you were the one to serve him, and although he wasn’t as interactive with small talk, you very quickly figured out how to interact with him. Then he began to stay long enough to be able to walk you to the nearest taxi pick up spot. Then he began to take you straight home to your doorstep.

And now you’re sitting on the small couch in his living room, reading a book to entertain yourself until he comes home - something you did a minimum of three times a week.

It wasn’t long after the acknowledgment of the time that you heard the familiar sound of keys slotting into the lock of the front door, followed by the sound of the door opening. A smile played on your lips as you listened to the sound of shoes being taken off, a bag hitting the floor and then the sound of sliders dragging across the floor - all sounds that you knew like the back of your hand.

You mark your page in your book and look up to the man who just entered, a tired expression etched onto his sharp features, head of blonde hair dishevelled and goggles still comfortably sitting on the bridge of his nose. Before you could greet him, he came right over to you, taking a seat next to you then dropped his head into your lap. You were quick to raise your arms as soon as you saw what he was doing, a startled ‘oof’ leaving your lips when his head landed onto your thighs.

“Good evening to you, too, Kento.” You muttered, letting him get comfortable as he took off his goggles and then crossed his arms over his chest. You watched him exhale, closing his eyes and remaining silent for a short while.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, sighing again then opening his eyes and looking up to meet your amused gaze. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can tell.” You replied, placing your book on the empty space beside you then bringing a hand up to run your fingers through his hair gently. “You smell gross.” He shut his eyes in response and huffed.

“You smell nice.” He retorted, and you smiled when you saw a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips.

“You must be hungry.” You comment, moving some strands of his hair out of the space on his forehead. You leaned down and planted a soft kiss in the spot between his brows then straightened up and gently tapped the crown of his head. “If you go shower, I’ll be finished making something for you to eat . How does that sound?”

“Are you on the menu?” He asked, tone as serious as ever but it made you laugh, tapping the crown of head again.

“Not tonight, you’re already worn out,” you hummed, letting your fingers play with his hair again momentarily. “Up you get, then.”

He nodded his head, opening his eyes and sitting up in one swift movement. Though he was never one to talk about how he felt, he appreciated your very existence. He appreciated that you never probed about his work-life any more than he was comfortable. He appreciated that you read him like an open book and accepted him and all his stiffness. He appreciated that you would always randomly smother him with soft kisses all over his face for no reason. He hoped he’d be able to tell you one day, but for now, he knew that you felt it.

And that you did, which is why you were happy to do things for him as you were doing now, preparing a small snack for him to eat whilst he showered and changed into more comfortable clothing. He was in and out in a flash, which you assumed was either because he didn’t want to be without you for a second or he was incredibly hungry.

You had set up his food on the small kitchen table he had, and watched him take a seat and thank you for the meal. You remembered that there were some pears that hadn’t been touched since the day you brought them to him two days ago, deciding to cut them up for him and see if he would eat them.

Although the both of you sat in a comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but think about how much you loved doing the mundane things for him. Sure, it was nice when you were cuddling on the couch or embraced in all sorts of positions in the bedroom, but there was something about the smaller things that filled your heart with joy.

You looked up from the pear in your hands to see that he had stopped eating, his head resting on a balled fist that was propped up onto the table abs his eyes were on you. His hair was still damp from his shower and pulled back so that his whole face was visible. His expression was hard to read but it didn’t intimidate you, instead, you scoffed and continued to cut the pair in your hands into four.

“What?” You asked, looking down at the piece of pear you were cutting the seeds out of and got rid of the stalk, placing the piece into a bowl before doing the same to the remaining three pieces.

“Should we get married?” He asked, the question catching you off-guard but you remained calm. Your eyes flickered up to him, trying to scan his face for any sign of amusement and finding nothing. He was being serious.

“Why are you asking right now?”

“Because I like the way you cut pears for me.” His answer had you confused and it took all you had inside not to laugh. You slowly nodded your head, putting the rest of his pear slices into the bowl and pushing it towards him.

“So, what? You want me to cut your pears everyday until the end of time?” You teased with a light laugh, wiping your wet hands with a drying cloth that was next to you.

“Yes.” He answered, taking the bowl of pear slices and digging into them right away. “You haven’t answered my question.”

You smiled at him, propping your elbows onto the table and resting your chin in your hands whilst you watched him eat. “Okay. But on one condition.” He didn’t say anything but the speed at which he looked at you indicated he didn’t expect you to agree so easily. “You have to spoil me with gifts everyday. I cut you pear slices, you buy me expensive shiny things.”

His lips pulled into a humoured smile that you rarely saw when you were not in his home. “If that’s what I need to keep you by my side everyday.”

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 2

Part One | Part Two 

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,524

Summary: A requested continuation of this idea. Reader runs into Marko a few weeks later and is convinced to go on a late night rendezvous. 

There were few moments in life as sweet as when you had just finished a shift.

You got along with your co-workers and the owners were good to you. The job itself wasn’t too bad outside of the occasional snotty customer. But after being on your feet, your body was grateful to go home and just sit.

“Be careful, huh? They still haven’t found that guy,” your boss cautioned as she locked up behind the both of you.

That gave you pause.

Two weeks ago, the cops had come in on official business. Yet another missing person’s case in Santa Carla except this time, the last any one had seen of the victim was outside the restaurant. There were no leads which had the workers spooked, especially since it happened nearby.

Some insisted that he had been in an accident, that he would turn up sooner or later. Others maintained that he must be a criminal himself—why else would’ve he been out so late? 

And a third group of co-workers were bold enough to come out and say he was probably long dead, the victim of a killer. You agreed with them. 

Whatever the case, everyone was more cautious when leaving after the late shift.

Most of your shifts were still in the day but after seeing that beautiful boy on a random nightshift you’d taken on a whim and started signing up for more in hopes of seeing him again. He hadn’t come back yet.

You reassured her as you zipped up your jacket. “Thank you, auntie. I promise to be careful.”

Passing a critical eye over you, she started chiding you about dressing smarter—what kind of fool wore a nylon jacket in these temperatures. You took it without complaint, knowing the nagging was how she showed that she cared.

Her husband, the other owner, was already waiting in their car and the last thing she told you as she got in was, “There’s eight in that bag. Share with everyone at home.”

You held the bag containing a pile of smooth, fluffy buns reverently against your chest.

It wasn’t often that she brought food from home to give to employees but when she did, it was always delicious. The bao was a big favorite of yours.

“Thank you. I will,” you said with a dip of your head.

They drove off and you head down to your own car. Alone on the sidewalk, you juggled everything in your arms to fish out your keys, taking great care not to squish the bao. It was a particularly quiet that night which put you on guard, your eyes darting around trying to peer into the darkness.

Every shadow was suspicious, the corners of buildings a potential hiding spot for a psycho laying in wait. There was also an alleyway you had to pass by that made you extra wary. You darted past it, careful to keep it in your line of limited vision.

Santa Carla was a shifty town, especially after dark, and you’d rather be paranoid instead of caught off guard.

The jingle of your car keys was almost obvious disrupter in the otherwise silent street as you unlocked the car. Your textbooks were demoted to the floor of the passenger seat, the bag of bao riding shot gun in the actual seat. 

For a spilt second, you thought about buckling it in but quickly dismissed it; the seat belt could crush them.

You slammed the door shut when you felt it. A cold shudder on the back of your neck. The kind of anxious realization that you were being watched.

Your head swiveled this way and that, trying to find the source of your unease but the darkness too much of a handicap. It was times like this when you were reminded just how badly lit the street was.

There were no detectible sounds either. You strained to pick up the slightest movement and only heard the rush of adrenaline in your ears.

Desperate to keep your wits about you, you took a deep breath and walked as calmly as you could to the driver’s side. You gripped the car keys tightly, in case you needed to stab someone, ignoring the tremors in your hands. Nothing happened, yet the feeling of being watched remained and you hoped that it’d be okay once you got in the car.

You reached for the handle and thought you were safe when it intensified. There was no warning before a cold hand rested on your hip, the chill cutting through your jacket.

You screamed with everything in you and whirled around, arm poised to gouge out the creep’s eyes.

The other person effortlessly batted your attack away and you recognized belatedly that those distinct curls were familiar. The fight drained out of you with one big gasp of air. “You.”

He smiled excitedly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you. He spun your keys, the key ring looped around his finger. You didn’t remember them leaving your hold.

“Nice jab,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you stammered, hand over your pounding heart. It was eerie how he snuck up on you like that, even when you were on full guard.

“You didn’t hesitate.” The spinning stopped and he offered you the keys. He leaned in close stopping just shy of invading your personal space. “You have a fighter’s instinct.”

“Only when people sneak up on me.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”

His voice was perfectly sincere but your intuition didn’t trust him. It told you that he had liked scaring you.

The customer was just how you remembered him from the one time you took his order. Patched jacket and leather chaps and a cherubic face. The flawless face was a harsh reminder that you hadn’t been able to land a single scratch on him.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves last time,” you frowned. “What’s your name?”

He bit his thumb, the paleness of it standing in stark contrast with the dark leather of his fingerless glove even in the dim light. “Marko.” Hmm. It suited him, you decided. “And you’re Y/N.

You stood up a little straighter, uneasy. You were sure that you hadn’t said your name last time—you never introduced yourself to customers.

Once again, he stole the words out of your mouth. “It was on the name tag.”

Oh. You’d forgotten about the raised rectangular underneath your jacket. The name tag. “Sorry. I’m still a little spooked from what just happened.”

“Never took you for a screamer,” he teased. Heat exploded in your face and the night hid how he focused on the small bird shaped pin on the lapel of your jacket.  

He was more mischievous and you wished for the ease of conversation from his other visit. Was this truer to his actual personality? Normally, you’d wouldn’t have minded either way but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness of this encounter.

Your goal was to leave as soon as possible. Either he didn’t pick up on that, or he did and just didn’t care because next thing you knew, he was inviting you to hang out at a park a couple of blocks away. And he didn’t mean tomorrow or next week, he meant right then.

Your resistance was instinctive and the excuse that you needed to go home and get some sleep was both a truth and a lie.

He crowded you against the car, finally crossing into your personal space. You made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and found you couldn’t turn away. The longer you looked, the more you swore that a predatory yellow glowed from his irises.

Human eyes didn’t even come in that color! You were going crazy.

“I think you should come.” His soft tone didn’t match the determined posture. “You’ll have fun.”

You struggled internally but he started to sound reasonable. Forget the fact that this was something you knew better than to do. You really wanted to keep talking with him and an inner voice reminded you that you had been waiting for him to return…This was your chance.

“Okay,” you smiled. The previous reservations evaporated from your mind and all you could think about was the excitement.  

The two of you drove to the park, him on his motorcycle and you in your car. All of the benches empty and ready for the taking. There a few by the basketball courts and there were tons of streetlights in that direction so you went there.

Sitting down, you were finally able to see him clearly. The park used white bulbs in their lights which was an upgrade from the orange ones lining the streets.

“Here.” You handed him one of the buns that you brought with from the car. “It’s char siu bao.”

He lit up. “Whoa! I didn’t know you guys sold this. Is it a secret menu item?”

You laughed, spitting out mashed-up bits of food. Still chuckling, you made sure to swallow and then answered. “Nope, there’s not a secret menu. Not one that I know about any way. Sometimes the owners bring in food to share with us and they made bao this time.”

The first bite had him moaning obscenely. The rest of it was scarfed down quickly and he patted his stomach appreciatively, his cut-off tank riding up to expose more of his skin.

“Damn. That was orgasm by BBQ pork bun. Your angel for giving me some.”

For the second time that night, heat spread across your face and you kept your eyes trained away. His boldness was flattering. How could you have been scared of him earlier? It seemed ridiculous right then.

“So,” he continued, “I couldn’t help but notice the eyesore hanging from your rear-view mirror.”

“It’s not an eyesore. It took me a whole week to make that.”

That impressed him. “Really. You make a lot of things yourself?”

It launched a whole conversation about your latest creative projects. What kind of materials you liked to work with, where you got your supplies, and if you would show them to him sometime.

Marko talked about his as well. He mostly dabbled in clothing projects, like his jacket, and painting although he worked with shells and wood a lot, too. If the extraordinary patch work on the jacket was any indicator, he was seriously talented.

Sensing an opportunity, you proposed that you would show him your stuff, only if he showed you his.

“You’ll have to be specific what of mine you want to see,” he said with a wink.

“The projects, Marko. I mean the projects,” you sassed. It was becoming easier to respond to his quips.

He gestured further down where some patches of spray paint were visible on the concrete ground. “I can show you some now, if you want.”

Your brows shot up. He did say he did all kinds of painting, but he spray painted too? Curious, you didn’t wait for him as you went to go take a peek.

People tagged all over Santa Carla these days, normally on buildings or signs. Never had you seen it left up in a public park and on the ground, no less. A lot of residents complained about what they saw as trashy graffiti, but you thought that was a conservative view. Some it was actually quite good, the talent of the artists undeniable.

The five slabs of park sidewalk examples of good pieces. There were styles that differed from bubbly word font to intricate cartoon characters and it was apparent that many people had worked on this.

You examined them critically, trying to find which was Marko’s based on your limited knowledge.

The bubbly font was too soft for him. The animated turtle with a bandana and nun-chucks, certainly a comic book figure, didn’t seem like him either. Then you spotted a stylized skull with a bird placed in each eye socket, an aggressively written ‘anarchy’ running down the side length of it.

The pin was a reminder on your chest and you knew that it was his.

“Aww, how’d you guess?”

“A little birdy told me,” you said, softly touching the image. What really stood out was the high-level shading he incorporated. The cheeks appeared wicked sharp and the eye sockets had realistic depth to them. You couldn’t believe he managed those techniques with simply spray paint.

Marko crouched in front of you, watching you intently. Your scent and admiration irresistible to him.  

Neither of you spoke as he leaned ever closer. Unlike earlier, the quiet wasn’t scary and you felt anticipation. Right at the moment he his lips would’ve touched yours, there was a big rustle in the bushes to your left.

Both of you froze. You in alarm and Marko in annoyance.

Next thing you knew, another blonde rolled out from the foliage and bowled Marko over. The curly haired boy was quick to shove the other off of him and you were sure what was happening.

Until the new comer with his fluffed hair patted Marko affectionately on the shoulder, the chain attached to his black coat clinking. That was a familiar touch. “Marko!”

“Get your fat ass off me, Paul” he grumbled.

Paul dusted himself off and peered behind at his butt “I knew these pants looked good on me.”

Marko wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?”

“You abandoned me, bud. I was gunna see if you wanted to feed but looks like you’re already occupied.” He turned his brilliant smile towards you and all you managed was wave awkwardly.

“This is Y/N,” Marko explained. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Paul said dragging out the r and flagrantly winking. Yikes, he would’ve gotten a show if he had waited a second more to reveal himself.

“Well now that you barged in, I suppose we should meet back up with the other two.”

Paul nodded and ran off into the darkness without any further explanation.

You stood up as well trying to salvage your dignity. Despite moving in for a kiss minutes ago, Marko didn’t try again. He walked backwards in the same direction Paul had left in, wearing his signature smirk.

“I’ll stop by for take-out soon. Surprise me with something yummy.” With one last cheeky wave, he jogged away.

At the moment he disappeared, it was as if a fog had cleared. All of your alarms came rushing back. You must be crazy for having agreed to come to the park!

Who in their right mind went somewhere with a stranger in the dead of night with a killer on the lose?

Were you that weak for a pretty face that all it took was them asking you nicely? Yes, your time with him hadn’t been horrible, actually, you enjoyed it, but something still wasn’t right.

You trudged to your car, kicking yourself. If he came to the restaurant like he claimed, you’d have to put your foot down more. Stupid decisions got people killed in Santa Carla and you were determined not to be another missing person.

Even for a face like Marko’s.

_______________

Bao is so so good! I can’t tell if I have a good handle on writing Marko yet. Yes, the missing person is the one he offed last time and yes, he did use mind powers on the reader here. 

Thanks for reading :)

[broadstbroskis]

the countdown | kevin hayes

a/n: @hockeynetwork ran another wonderful fic exchange this season! i had the lovely @fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan and one of the questions i asked you was for your favorite tropes. you gave me “families are super close and have a bet going on who realize they are in love with each other first.” this is...not quite that 😂 but similar and i hope you enjoy anyway 💚

8:43 pm

Olivia slams her car door shut and checks her watch, swearing as she jogs around to the passenger side to gather everything she’s brought. Besides her activity ring judging her for not meeting her goal, she’s late and she’s going to take so much shit for that.

She practically jogs to the door (or, well, as best as she can in her high heeled booties), plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies in hand, and then stops abruptly right on the front porch when the door opens before she can do it herself.

There goes her hope of just sneaking in.

It’s Jimmy. Of course, it’s Jimmy, with that classic Hayes shit-eating grin on his face as he greets her, even though this isn’t even his fucking house. “Livvy! Rolling in 45 minutes late even though you’re the closest one here.”

“This is honestly so rude of you.” She complains, even as she pulls him in for a hug. She wouldn’t have expected any less from Jimmy, who gives her just as much shit as her own older brother does and always has, ever since they were all kids growing up together in Dorchester. “This is how you treat me, after I show up here with cookies I made especially for you?”

His eyes light up, like she knew they would, even though they both know they’re not just for him. But her chocolate chip cookies are a big hit with all of them, and instead of calling her out on it, he reaches for the plate. “I’ll just take those from you now; put them somewhere safe.”

Olivia laughs. “Nuh-uh. Lemme in; it’s cold as fuck out here.”

Jimmy finally steps aside so she can follow him in the doorway, and only then does Liv hand him the plate of cookies, so that she can take off her coat, revealing the sparkly tank she’d dragged out of her closet just for the evening. “Where’s the champagne?” She pouts, as he leads her on a familiar route deeper into the house. “You came to greet me at the door and didn’t even bring me bubbly?”

“Kristin probably drank it all already.” He jokes, which is straight blasphemy, because she knows his wife set aside at least two bottles just for the two of them to share the minute she walked in the door. 

“My girl would never!” Olivia says confidently, and sure enough, the second the two of them walk into the family room to join the rest of the families, his wife is holding up two flutes of champagne with a large smile on her face.

“Livvy!” Kristin cheers and Liv finds herself being pulled into the blonde for a hug and a glass of champagne being thrust into her hand before anyone in her own family can even say hello to her. “You’re here, finally.”

“Oh my god!” Olivia takes a sip of her champagne and rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Every person in this room has been more late to something than I am right now! Jack’s never showed up to Thanksgiving on time or without a hangover in his life and nobody says shit!” She deflects to her younger brother, who holds his hands up innocently.

“We’re not talking about me right now, Livvy.” The grin on Jack’s face widens, somehow. “We’re talking about you lying to all of us.”

She’s absolutely taken aback by that because she hasn’t? She’d panicked in the group chat earlier about getting stuck on a call at work, and then stuck in traffic, which set her back getting ready to come over here and meet all of them. She would have been on time. She’s always on time. “What are you talking about?” She frowns, as a tall person drops an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “I haven’t lied to anyone.” She looks over at Nolan and pulls a face at him, and then laughs as he deadpans one back to her. 

She’d been sure that her long time best friend’s roommate had hated her when they first met, but Kevin had been quick to assure her that was just how Nolan was. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that was true. Beneath Nolan’s resting bitch face that put hers to absolute shame, was an absolute sweetheart; she hated having to admit she was wrong to Kevin. 

“To anyone?” Jimmy and Mike, Liv’s older brother, are looking at each other with this ridiculous look of both disbelief and mocking. “Not lying about anything?”

“You saw me literally last week?” She addresses her brother. She’d gone home for Christmas; they’d sat with all their cousins at their grandmother’s and had a great time, just like always. “What the fuck are you on?”

“Olivia!” Her mom snaps, half-heartedly, not even looking away from the conversation she’s having with Liv’s dad and Kevin’s parents. 

But Mike merely grins at her. “I don’t know, Liv.” He says, as she’s lifted off the floor and twirled around. “You tell me.”

But she can’t really hear anything he says after that, too busy laughing and shoving at Kevin, trying (unsuccessfully) to get him to put her down. He does, finally, but leaves his arm around her shoulders, even when she tries to shove her shoulders against him in retaliation (a wildly unsuccessful attempt, he goes absolutely nowhere, she really just ends up bringing herself closer to him).  “Here’s my girl!”  Kevin cheers, shaking her enough that she almost spills what’s left in her champagne glass (and she would have killed him for wasting such a commodity). “ I told you to take off today.”

“Ugh, I wish I could have.” Except they have this huge launch in the first week of the year and they’re still putting finishing touches on, so that was absolutely not happening. It’ll be a miracle that they finish on time as it is. She’s going to pop so much champagne once this goes off.

Kevin, who’s definitely familiar with this work project that she’s been bitching about for months now, laughs; he knows she couldn’t take off earlier, even if she’d really wanted too, and he squeezes her shoulders once. “A few more days and you’re done. Forever.” She clinks her glass against his beer in a cheers. Bless. “Thank god.” He continues. “I don’t like the person you are when you’re 3am deep in emails, Livvy.”

“Lies.” She elbows him, the only time she can really get some leverage against him, when her bony elbow manages to find the spot just under his ribcage. “You love me all the time.”

“Well that’s cute.” Mike says, in that dangerous voice that Liv always finds hard to read. “Just the nicest couple of liars.” And it’s the way he says couple, that really does it for her, but it goes right over Kevin’s head, if the way he just leads her to the kitchen to put down her cookies and get a plate of food, is any indication.

-----

9:23 pm

“Okay, spill.” Kristin says, the second she manages to get Liv alone, not a terribly easy feat, as Liv’s been doing everything she can to avoid that. 

“Spill what?” Kristin’s got that look in her eyes, like she’s not going to let this go...whatever this is.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Kev.”

Olivia blinks. “There’s nothing going on with me and Kev.” Except that’s maybe not exactly true. It’s not a lie- there’s definitely nothing going on between them. They’re still friends, definitely still friends. But...there’s definitely not nothing between them either.

There’s too many late nights on one of their couches, spent doing absolutely nothing but talking. Too many lingering touches that don’t lead anywhere. Too many glances across a crowded room where she feels like a magnet is pulling her there in the first place, and then can’t seem to pull herself away.

So like. There’s not nothing. But nothing’s changed; they’re still goofy Kevin and organized Liv, best friends taking on the world (in Philly, now; together again, finally).

“Bullshit.” Kristin calls her out, but Liv’s saved by the arrival of one of Kevin’s sisters, who tries to wrangle them in for a picture before they all become too messy later.

It’s an easy reminder though, of how well these people all know her. So it’s probably time to lock it down for the night.

-----

10:05 pm

It’s quiet in the kitchen, where Olivia has made herself busy cleaning up after stopping in the bathroom. She’s gathered up leftovers of anything that needs to be put away, separated into bags and containers for everyone to take home, and then started on the dishes, when suddenly she feels a finger poke her side, before an entire arm wraps around her stomach.

“Stop that.” Kevin murmurs into her ear, trying to tug her away. “They’ll still be dirty for us tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” She fights against him. “The whole thing took me like, five minutes.”

“You’ve been gone for fifteen.” Kevin says, wrapping his other hand around her waist and lifting her away from the sink. “And that’s not the point.”

He sets her down on the other side of the counter; the sink’s not even in reach anymore. She gets her revenge by wiping her wet hands on his henley, but Kev doesn’t even blink, still staring down at her. “I was almost done!” She protests.

“We can clean the kitchen tomorrow.” Kevin says calmly. “Come hang out with us. I know you’ve got this thing about cleaning and order and shit but I swear to God, Nols and I are not going to fight you on this; you can put everything back wherever you want to put it tomorrow.”

Liv bites her lip so he won’t see her laugh, but of course he knows and a grin immediately stretches across his face. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She says. “I’m finally reorganizing your spice shelf.”

“It’s chaos and we like it that way.” Kevin grins and it’s only when she shakes her head, and the ends of her hair actually hit his face does she realize how close he is.

“It’s anxiety-inducing,” She corrects, smiling right back as Kevin brushes her hair back from her face. “And I don’t know how you two ever get any food made here.”

“Meal service.” Kevin shrugs, but his voice is almost overshadowed by the sound of a gasp behind her.

When she and Kevin both go to look though, the hallway is empty, and Liv shrugs right back at Kevin, before they both grab fresh drinks and join their families again.

-----

11:18 pm

Once Nolan eliminates her from the annual beer pong tournament (fuck him AND his bony elbows that were definitely over the line), Liv drapes herself over her mom’s shoulders and squeezes. Across from her, the Hayes’ both laugh, and her dad just rolls his eyes fondly, but Olivia knows her mom and knows she doesn’t care.

In fact, she welcomes it. Her mom squeezes her hand and she’s grinning, always happy for these moments with her children. “Tough loss, kid.”

“It’s fine.” Liv says, not at all bitter. “Nols is a cheating cheater who cheats. Kev will avenge me.” He’s already up by three cups; it’s looking pretty good.

There’s more laughter, and then her mom is squeezing her hand again. “We’re really happy for you, you know.” 

Liv’s a little tipsy, so she doesn’t really question the strangeness of that statement. She kisses her mom’s cheek and hugs her again. “Love you guys too!” She says, and then goes back to watching Kevin clean up for the rest of this game.

-----

11:55 pm

With five minutes to midnight and Kristin crowned as this year’s beer pong champ, the attention turns to the countdown and a flutter of activity toward preparing their traditional midnight champagne toast. 

Olivia accepts her glass from her mom and then wanders off to find her phone quickly, dead set on getting a picture of the toast for an instagram post in the morning. It’s still in the kitchen, where she’d left it when cleaning earlier, and she grabs it off the counter, ignoring most of the messages on there in favor of checking the one from Kristin (what she could possibly have to say when she’s literally across the room…).

It’s not actually a text; it’s a picture. A picture of Liv and Kevin, right after Kevin had beaten Nolan at beer pong. She’d thrown herself at him; he’d lifted her up in celebration, both of them laughing and cheering.  They look happy and perfect and like something...it’s practically a boyfriend filter...except it’s two of them, her and Kevin.

Definitely not nothing.

“Whatcha looking at?” Kevin’s voice surprises her; she’d been so focused she hadn’t even heard him come up to her.

Liv’s so not the risk taker in this friendship; Kev’s the one dragging her out to new places and new things while she’s the one telling him to take a step back and think things through. And yet, even though it’s the scariest thing in the world to show him, it somehow doesn’t feel like she’s diving in headfirst at all as she tilts the screen a little for him to see. “Kristin sent me this.” 

Even though he’s standing right next to her, Kevin still takes a step closer and his free hand, the one not holding his flute of champagne, slides around her waist. “Hey!” He grins, squeezing her gently. “It’s us!”

“Yeah,” She says, much more quietly. “It is.”

He’s quiet for a moment then, but doesn’t move away either. “It’s a good picture of us.”

“It is.” She repeats, agreeing.

“That’s not why you showed me this, is it?”

“No.” Liv swallows the lump in her throat nervously. “It’s not.”

“Livvy.” Kevin says gently and that’s it. That’s all it takes for her to open up.

“I’m so tired of this, Kev.” She shakes her phone, like that’s going to explain everything. “This-this in between thing. This more than friends, but not quite more. I hate it here! I hate looking at this picture and seeing what Kristin sees but knowing that what she sees is wrong. I hate the uncertainty, I hate feeling like there’s this thing but then neither of us does anything, so it just lingers.” She takes a breath, set on continuing, but Kevin jumps in before she can.

“You just hate not knowing something.” He grins.

“Kevin.” Liv snaps crankily, but before she can say anything else to him, he’s pressing her back against the counter and kissing her.

She’s vaguely aware of her champagne crashing to the ground, never more thankful for the fake plastic flutes that their moms always insist on, but Liv really can’t be bothered, even by spilled champagne, as she grips Kevin’s hips to pull herself closer and sinks into a truly amazing first kiss.

“Aw, hell yeah!” She hears from behind her, and pulls away reluctantly, noting the equally annoyed look on Kevin’s face. “I knew it, let’s go!”

It’s Jimmy, looking entirely too pleased to find his brother making out against a counter than he eats off all the time. Actually, it’s all of them- Jimmy, Kristin, Nolan, her brothers, Kevin’s sisters, their parents. All staring at them with bright grins on their faces and bickering.

“I told you-”

“We all fucking knew-” Jack shoves at Mike.

“-they’ve been together for ages.”

“Hey, back up! Just because they were making out now, doesn’t mean they’ve been together for ages; I had New Year’s in the pool!” Nolan pouts.

“I’m sorry,” Liv says, apparently sounding terrifying enough that every one of them stops talking. “There was a pool?”

Every one of them freezes, but for barely a moment, before they’re all talking over each other again and bumping into each other in their haste to back up. “Come on, we’re not even going to ask when this happened?” She hears Jack complain. “There’s $500 on the line here!”

“It’ll stay that way.” Kevin calls and Liv buries her face in his chest to hide her laugh. “Not telling you now!” A few groans echo back into the kitchen as he looks down at her to confirm her agreement. “We’re not telling them...ever, right?”

“Oh, it’s you and me to the grave.” Liv confirms, pulling him down for another kiss.

[watermelonlipstick]

Surprise

Everyone was so nice about my first Dean fic, here’s a Sam one! Again, thanks in advance for any critiques or advice!!

Title: Surprise

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4904

Summary: Mostly fluffy, a little smut, some angst when the reader realizes she’s late.  

Warnings: One smutty bit--separated by spacing, some light swearing, oblique mention of abortion, pregnancy

gif by study-of-supernatural

           Dean tossed his phone onto the car seat next to him. “That thing in Cleveland sounds like vamps for sure. So we’ll just drop you off at the bunker on the way.”

           You looked quizzically at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop me off? No, I want to come.”

           Dean flicked his eyes up to the mirror to make eye contact. “Well you obviously can’t go hunt vampires right now, so, sorry.” He turned the key in the ignition and threw the Impala in reverse. Before he could back out of the parking lot, Sam stopped him.

           “Dude, what? She’s hunted vampires with us dozens of times.”

           “I’m not taking you to a vampire nest when you’re, you know, parting the red seas,” Dean addressed his response to you in the rearview mirror rather than Sam. “Too dangerous.”

           “Oh my god,” you said under your breath, stunned. “You did not just say that.”

           Sam’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, his lips parted while he tried to find something to say. Dean looked over at him in an exaggerated “what?” grimace.

           “Dean, it is so fucking weird for you to know that,” Sam insisted.

           “No it’s not, she was talking about cramps when we were at Jody’s a few months ago, it’s not that hard to keep track of 4 week chunks,” Dean tried to justify.

           “We are not talking about this, Jesus Christ!” you snapped, startling both brothers. They turned in their seats to look back at you. “And Dean, not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I am not on my period.”

           “Wait, yeah you are,” he started, ignoring your glare and the awkward tension building in the car. “We were in Sioux Falls for fourth of July on a Wednesday, then that would mean 4 weeks later was the witch in Nebraska, and two days ago was Wednesday. So that’s another 4 weeks,”

           “Dean!” Sam interrupted, his hands thrown up in frustration. “What the hell?!”

           “Again, and I don’t know how much more I can emphasize this, it’s none of your concern at all, but I’m not on my period and I will be coming to Cleveland,” you responded, leaning back in your seat to indicate that you would not be discussing the matter further. Dean sat for a moment before rolling his eyes and backing up out of the parking lot, seemingly having given in.

           After a few moments, the implications of Dean’s too-keen observation started to sink in. You had been on your period at Jody’s, because you remembered being thankful that you weren’t in a grown-up magical frat house and rather a normal home with some other women for it. Normally you loved living with Sam and Dean, but there was a certain kind of comfort and camaraderie that only other people with periods understood. And his math was right, that would’ve been 8 weeks two days ago. Had you been on your period during the witch hunt in Nebraska? Dammit, you couldn’t remember at all. As you often did when surprised with it during a job, you cursed the fact that you weren’t the kind of person who wrote something down on a calendar about your cycle.

           You shifted in your seat, trying to calculate. Fuck. Why couldn’t you remember if you were on your period in Nebraska? 2 days late wasn’t that big of a deal, but if you were a month late… You watched Sam try to rub some tension out of his neck absentmindedly. Was he wondering the same thing you were?

           This was not the time to be worried about it. You couldn’t figure out anything either way in the car—what were you going to do anyway, count the number of extra tampons you had in your bag?—and relatively soon you’d be in Cleveland. There would be opportunities to talk to Sam alone, to get to a drugstore, to figure this out. You took some deep, deliberate breaths. By your estimation, it would take about 7 hours to get to Cleveland. Curling up in the darkness of the backseat, you dozed fitfully until Dean woke you up to grab some food. Stressed but knowing that the boys would notice if you didn’t eat, you forced down the better part of a buffalo chicken sandwich and gratefully relinquished your fries to Dean. You couldn’t tell if Sam seemed nervous or just tired through dinner and knew better than to ask in front of Dean.

           When you got back in the car, you offered Sam the backseat so he could stretch out and sleep. Singing along to Creedence Clearwater Revival with Dean helped take your mind off of the racing questions until finally the Impala pulled into a motel outside Cleveland. You grabbed a top sheet and pillow off of one bed to put on the couch as you usually did on the road with Sam and Dean, and were asleep by the time you slipped your boots off under the plasticized coffee table.

           The next morning, you carefully slid Dean’s keys out of his jacket as it hung on a chair. Your hope was to be back before either of them woke up, and you knew you were pushing it. Sam and Dean had been asleep for a little under 4 hours, and you knew it would be miraculous if they stayed down for a 5 hour stretch. Gently catching the door behind you, you didn’t hear any movement on the other side and hoped for the best.

           The first drugstore you found was a little mom-and-pop establishment with a very sweet looking woman in her mid 60’s behind the counter. She was eating what looked like a cruller and drinking coffee from a steaming ceramic mug while reading a magazine. You congratulated yourself silently for brushing your hair to look more presentable to her as you pushed three pregnancy tests across the counter. She brushed off her hands on a small white apron tied around her waist and smiled warmly as she rang up the tests.

           “Sweetie, do you want a bag for these?” she asked.

           “No, I, uh,” you stammered, realizing you were more nervous than you had convinced yourself you were on last night’s drive. She softly touched the back of your hand on the pregnancy tests and pointed down a little side hall next to the counter.

           “Bathroom’s on the right,” she offered graciously. You nodded, taking the tests with you as you followed her directions. Unbuckling your jeans, you almost thought “I can’t remember the last time I took my pants off this fast,” chuckling aloud when you realized you absolutely could remember the last time your pants were taken off this fast. God, how stupid could you both have been? If your gut was right, that you had skipped your period in Nebraska, it meant your slipup with Sam at that bar in Montana was the likely culprit. Normally so careful both about making sure Dean wasn’t around to find out as well as protection, you were playing with fire that night. You had been stealing sultry glances at Sam for hours as Dean ripped through shots. Dean had found some bikers to play pool with, and you’d been brushing against Sam for longer than you needed to every time you snuck by the table for another round. The guys were fun and loud, and made the three of you feel at home. Dean was in the middle of being convinced to sing karaoke when you reapplied your lip gloss slowly with Sam’s eyes on you, and Dean was too caught up with the start of both another round of whiskey and a new game when you had told Sam you were headed to the powder room.  

           He had given you about a 2 minute head start before slamming open the door of the bathroom, crashing into you as a long arm cracked the lock into place. Sam, normally sweet and gentle Sam, had reacted to your teasing him all night exactly the way you wanted to, the heat and urgency and need searing through him as he tore at your belt buckle and you at his. He gathered a handful of hair at the base of your neck as he kissed you deeply and nipped at your bottom lip. You groaned as he moved down your neck, his hot breath sending electrifying chills down your spine. Suddenly his other hand was under your thigh, and he pulled you up to sit atop the old porcelain sink. Your jeans held on to your right leg for dear life as you tried to yank free of them, ultimately getting only your left out before Sam’s impatience got the better of him and he left your mouth to drag his tongue, long and languid, across your clit. When you gasped, he pulled firmly on the handful of hair he still had, arching your back into the mirror behind you.

           You hadn’t even thought for a split second of the consequences when you had pulled him into you on that sink. All that had mattered for those fervent salty minutes was the rhythm of Sam pounding you into the bathroom wall, hearing the creak of the sink ache underneath you, feeling the throbbing of yourself around him, the shiver you felt in his arms when you licked at his neck and earlobes. When he finished, sticky and hot on your stomach and inner thigh, you had cleaned up as fast as you could before getting your clothes back on, checking both of yourselves in the mirror for evidence before leaving one at a time to rejoin Dean and your new friends. You remembered the way you had ached so good in the days following, the way Sam blushed the next day when you winked at him over pancakes.

           In a way it felt poetic, to be once again in a strange bathroom. You lined up the tests next to the sink as you washed your hands, begging for time to move more quickly. One by one their results developed in cloudy blue words.

                                                  Pregnant

           Fuck.

           By the grace of God, Sam and Dean appeared to still be asleep by the time you got back to the motel room. You slipped Dean’s keys back into his jacket pocket and took off your boots, lying back down on the couch to pantomime sleep as you tried to figure out your next move. Sam roused first, and you jumped on the opportunity to talk before he got to the shower, startling him as he walked by the couch to get to the bathroom.

           “Sam, can I talk to you?” you whispered.

           He jolted before closing his eyes hard. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, you scared me,” he responded, his voice rough with sleep. “Two seconds, ok?”

           “Yeah sure. I’ll be outside,” you said, shoving your feet into your boots and heading for the small cast iron bench outside the motel room. Sam came out a few minutes later, smelling of toothpaste and looking like he had raked his fingers through the worst of his bedhead tangles. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

           “What’s going on?” He looked concerned, and you realized you probably weren’t keeping the worry off of your face as well as you would’ve hoped.

           You took another deep breath, trying to keep your voice level as you responded. “So, Dean being a creep yesterday got me nervous, because I think he might be right,” you started. Sam’s earnest eyes encouraged you to keep going. “In that I’m supposed to be on my period right now. And I should’ve been on my period in Nebraska. But I’m not now, and I wasn’t—” Sam finally made the realization you were leading him to, his eyes widening as he held your gaze. “—in Nebraska, so I took a test, really three tests, and I think I’m pregnant,” you finished, the words tumbling out of your mouth like an avalanche furtively mumbled outside the Ohio hotel room. “And I, uh, you’re obviously the only person I’ve been with, so I thought you should know.”

           Your voice cracked on the last words, and you bit your lip to hold back the involuntary tears. Sam took your shoulders in each hand and looked into your eyes. “Hey. Hey, okay, look at me. Everything’s okay.” He pulled you into a firm hug, his ropey muscles around your shoulders and back feeling like an anchor in a storm. You stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to breathe smoothly around the lump in your throat threatening to burst while Sam gripped you tightly. When you shifted your weight, he let go and left a stabilizing hand on your lower back for a moment. You and Sam sat on the bench side by side staring out at the half-full parking lot in the morning dew.

           Sam cleared his throat. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly. You were worried if you looked at him you’d start crying, so you kept your eyes locked on the asphalt.

           “I don’t know, I guess. Hadn’t really thought that far,” you said honestly. “I mean, how many pregnant hunters do you know?” You finally looked over at Sam when he didn’t respond. His brows were knitted together as he looked at his hands in his lap.

           “Not very many, I guess,” he mumbled, barely audible. He straightened his spine and set his jaw. “If that’s what you want to do, I totally get it. I’m here no matter what you decide.”

           “Well, what would you do?”

           “It’s not my call.”

           “Sam, I’m asking because I want to know. What would you decide?”

           “I’d give it a shot,” he said, firmly but quietly. “I think we could do it.”

           You let his answer hang in the air for a moment. “Are you sure?”

           Sam chuckled, looking back down at his hands before meeting your eyes. “Pretty sure.” He smiled, a small and self-conscious smile that made him look more unsure of himself than you’d ever seen him. When you smiled back at him, a tear slipped past your eyelashes. You wiped it away furtively as you began to laugh. Then Sam was laughing with you, his own eyes wet and bright. For the first time since you were in the car yesterday, you didn’t feel like you were racing and clawing to stay afloat. It felt like maybe things would be okay.

           You heard a creak and saw Dean’s head poking out of the motel door. His hair was unkempt and the neck of his t-shirt was stretched out; he’d clearly just woken up. He squinted a puffy eye at you both. “What’re you guys doing out here?”

           You gasped for breath in between your hysterical giggling. “I’m pregnant,” you managed to squeak out.

           Dean’s head kicked back into his neck as he opened his eyes wide. “This feels like a conversation I should have pants on for.”

           “So you’ve got a bun in the oven,” Dean said, pouring syrup over a short stack at a nearby diner. “Is this a moment for congratulations?” He squinted at you, carefully trying to keep his expression neutral.

           “Um, yeah, I think so,” you said shyly. Eggs had seemed like a good idea when the waitress came over, but now the idea of putting them in your mouth was too much. Dean seemed to read your mind, rolling his eyes and forking a pancake onto your plate.

           “Who’s the baby daddy? Should I be calling Springer?” Dean smiled slyly. Sam was notably quiet, looking down at his omelet like it had all the secrets of the Rosetta Stone.

           “Shut up,” you said, grimacing at him. “Between the two of us, I think you know who should be more scared about a random baby coming into the picture.”

            “Fair enough, I yield,” Dean chuckled. “Seriously though, who’s big papa?” Dean took a comically large bite of sausage, and you waited a beat to make sure he wasn’t about to choke.

           “Sam.”

           Dean coughed and sputtered around the bite of sausage, snatching his coffee to help him swallow. He bared his teeth when he realized how hot it was and pounded a closed fist on his chest. “Good one, jackass. Seriously, who is it? Maybe that detective from Sioux Falls who’s always getting you coffee cake when we’re there?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

           You shot a look over to Sam, who clenched and unclenched his jaw before looking up at Dean. As was often true, they were communicating with their eyes in a way you couldn’t understand. Sam raised his eyebrows slightly, and Dean closed his eyes very deliberately before putting his fork down and steepling his fingers on the table. “You guys have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. He opened his eyes after a long moment and sucked on his teeth. “Start talking,” he growled.

           “We’ve been, you know, uh, spending a lot of time together—” Sam started before Dean waved a dismissive hand in the air.

           “How long?” Dean asked, still steely.

           Sam gulped hard and pursed his lips. “Like 7, 8 months?” He looked to you for confirmation and you nodded slightly.  

           Dean’s nostrils flared and he bit his bottom lip. “Eight goddamn months, Sam? Are you kidding me?” You tried to meet Sam’s eyes but he was avoiding Dean by looking out the diner window. “Sam!” Dean barked. You watched an older woman a few tables away look over at your table and threw a weak wave her way to apologize for the noise.

           Sam finally turned to look at Dean. “Dean, I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, eight months. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, it just didn’t seem like the right time and then a lot of time had passed, and—”

           “—it didn’t change anything so there wasn’t really any point to talking about it,” you finished. Sam gave you a tight smile to indicate his thanks.

           Dean looked from you to Sam and back before picking his fork back up and stabbing another piece of sausage a little harder than necessary. The fork scraped against the plate unpleasantly. He raised it to his mouth before reconsidering, letting it clatter to the plate. “Sam, I asked you like five times if there was something going on and you said no every single time. What the hell, man?”

           You leaned back in the booth and watched as Sam chewed his lip nervously. On some level, you were glad it seemed like Dean wasn’t as mad at you as Sam, but you felt guilty both for not having told Dean and that Sam was incurring his wrath alone. Sam let his head loll back on his neck.

           “Well?” Dean repeated. You could sense now the note of sadness in his voice peeking out between the waves of anger. Sam still didn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

           “I, uh, I don’t know,” he finally answered softly.

           After a long stare, Dean finally went back to eating. You and Sam followed, and the three of you ate silently for a few minutes.

           “You’re keeping it, then?” Dean asked, his voice low and raspy as he kept eating.

           You finished your bite and took a sip of orange juice before answering, hoping this meant Dean had processed some of his anger. “I think so. I just found out this morning so it’s all happening kind of fast. Sam said he wants to try.” A smile crept onto your face involuntarily as you looked over at him.

           “You cannot just try with a fucking kid, did you two get dropped on your heads? You’re going to what, put a play pen in the dungeon of the bunker we live in? Do you hear yourselves?”

           You winced. “Dean, I don’t know, okay? You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t think Sam does either. I’m just trying really hard not to freak the fuck out right now, and I gotta be honest: you’re not helping.” You reached out to squeeze his hand. Dean allowed it but didn’t squeeze back. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”

           Dean’s face fell and he rubbed a quick circle in the back of your hand before pulling away to stroke his face. He looked so tired suddenly. “Are you guys leaving now then?”

           Your eyebrows and Sam’s communicated your confusion. “No one’s leaving. There’s still a job here, regardless of whatever soap opera bullshit we have going on,” you said.

           “Get real, like either of us is going to be able to focus on a hunt if we know you’re cracking necks pregnant.” Dean scoffed.

           “Okay, then she can stay in the motel and we can talk about this more back at the bunker,” Sam offered, ever the peacemaker. You glared at him but he specifically avoided meeting your gaze, knowing you’d be frustrated at this plan.

           “I’m done talking about this right now,” Dean said abruptly, yanking his wallet out of his pocket and throwing far more money on the table than the bill would’ve cost. He started toward the door, leaving you and Sam to run after him or risk being left.

           The car ride was silent and tense. When you got back to the motel, Sam and Dean stayed in the car as you got out alone.

           “We’ll probably only be a couple hours, just to the morgue and back. See you soon?” Sam asked.

           “Not really a ton of places I could go with no car,” you responded.

           “I’m sure you could figure something out,” Sam chuckled. You saw Dean’s hand tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

           “Dean, is your suit in the trunk or do you want me to grab it?” you asked, trying to offer an olive branch.

           “Trunk,” he said curtly. Sam made an apologetic face and waved as they pulled away.

           With the motel in the rearview mirror, Dean’s fist shot out to dead-arm Sam. “Are you fucking stupid? You’re so fucking stupid!” he grunted in between punches.

           Sam tried his best to block Dean, very aware of the road in front of them. “Dean. DEAN! Stop hitting me, alright? Jesus Christ, I get it!” Dean finally stopped and Sam rubbed his sore arm. “God, Dean, I’m sorry, ok? I should’ve been more careful and I should’ve told you.”

           “God, Sam, what were you thinking?” Dean slammed a palm into the steering wheel. “I mean, this has got to be your last job then,” he said, resolute.

           “What? No! I can still be a hunter if she’s pregnant. Plenty of hunters have kids,” Sam snapped.

           “Yeah, like Dad? Jo’s dad? How’d that work out for them? Wake up, Sam. At best you leave her alone raising a kid with no dad, and at worst they both get killed from some crap you get caught up in. If you go straight, get a day job, some house somewhere, maybe you have a shot at keeping everyone alive.”

           “She’s a hunter too, she knows how hard it’s going to be, okay? We’re going to figure it out,” Sam answered.

           “Yeah, you both keep saying that, don’t you? So start figuring it out then, dumbass. Tell me your groundbreaking plan to keep a target on your ass ganking demons and monsters with a baby Björn on.” He looked at Sam condescendingly. “I’m listening, Sammy. Turn on that genius brain of yours and lay it on me.”

           “Enough.” Sam said firmly. “What do you want me to do then, Dean? I can’t exactly take it back, and it’s not like I could force her to do anything even if I wanted to, so tell me what you think I should do!” Sam’s voice rose, the fear coming to the surface.

           The tension hung in the air like a curtain for a long minute.

           Finally, Dean slammed the steering wheel again. “Son of a bitch,” he said emphatically. “Okay. You’re right. We’ve got to figure out what you’re going to do.” He took a deep breath and pushed it out forcefully.

           Sam’s shoulders relaxed noticeably at Dean’s change in tone. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice.

           “Man, eight months? I must be pretty stupid,” Dean laughed, still somewhat angrily.

           Sam realized Dean was trying to lighten the mood and decided to let him have it, despite his bruised feelings. “There were a few times when I thought for sure you knew, to be honest.”

           “Oh yeah? Like when?”

           “Remember when, ah, you came home early from that Die Hard thing?”

           “Drive in double feature that got rained out, hell yeah. I was pissed.”

           “And when you got back to the bunker the kitchen was a mess and she said she was making like, cupcakes or something?”

           Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude, the kitchen? You’re a dog.” He smiled slyly at Sam, who laughed. The mood in the car was lifting like a low cloud after a bit of afternoon sun, and both of them relaxed into themselves for a few minutes of road.

           Dean cleared his throat. “Do you love her?”

           Sam turned to Dean, locking him in his gaze. “I do, yeah,” he said, softly and earnestly.

           Dean thumped a big hand on Sam’s back. “Then congrats, baby bro. Look at you, all grown up. If I’m being honest, I thought I was going to be the one who finally got the girl.”

           “Wait, Dean, if you have feelings for h—” Sam started.

           “No, nah, not now. It’s been years, she’s like a sister to me. Yesterday I would’ve said she’s like a sister to us,” Dean chuckled. “But she’s obviously a gorgeous girl, tough, smart like that? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it when she first started staying with us.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “She’s going to be a good mom, Sammy.”

           “I think so too.”

           In the motel room, you tried hard to focus on whatever Alaskan logging show was on but failed. Dean was right, this whole situation was overwhelming. The moments of hope you had sitting on that bench with Sam seemed lightyears away.

           A few hours later the boys finally walked through the motel door in their suits. Their expressions were unreadable, and Dean had a paper bag presumably of evidence in his hand that he set down on the small kitchenette table. Sam walked over to a bed, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket as he went. Dean mirrored the motion as he sat down at the table. It was always obvious they were brothers, but these small moments of such strong resemblance tickled you, even despite the circumstances.

           “How’d it go?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light as to not reveal the time you’d spent pacing and panicking while they were gone.

           “Seems pretty open and shut, we’re going to hit them tomorrow morning. Apparently they usually close down the tiki bar and then crash for a few hours before hitting the third shifter joints,” Sam said calmly, patting the bed next to him for you to sit down. You complied.

           “You deserve an apology,” Dean began. You tried to keep the surprise off your face so as not to discourage him from continuing. “I wouldn’t have lied about it for the better part of a damn year, but if you guys are happy and everything, I can hardly judge about a slip up. Mistakes happen.” He let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “So, I’m sorry. And I know normally you’d like a nice peaty Irish whiskey, but I figured under the circumstances this was more appropriate,” Dean reached into the paper bag on the table and pulled out a fluffy white cake with big pink, blue, and yellow frosting roses. In graceful, elegant script along the top, it said, 

                                   “Sorry Sam didn’t pull out!”

           You blushed and laughed out loud, reaching over to lightly slap Dean’s arm. “How much did you have to pay them to put that on it?”

           “Oh, they do the writing for free,” he grinned devilishly. “Want a slice?”

           “Sure,” you said, thinking a piece of cake at 10 am couldn’t be any weirder than this day already was. Dean got up to look through the cabinets for the cheap silverware and Corelle plates that seemed standard issue for motels like this.

           You turned to Sam. “What’re we going to do? I mean, it’s not like we can take a baby with us on the road, no offense, and to be honest I don’t know that I want to stop living this life. And I definitely don’t want to leave Dean, or the bunker, or—” Sam stopped you by lacing his fingers through yours.

           “We’ve figured out way more complicated problems than this. We’re going to make it work. If that means babyproofing the bunker or living in a duplex with Dean or driving around the country in a big RV, then that’s what we’ll do. Believe me, I’m scared as hell too. But there is no one I would rather bring someone into this world with. I love you.”

           “Thanks, Bridget Jones’ Diary,” Dean said, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes while you rubbed the beginnings of tears out of yours. “Sam, how big do you want your piece?”  

-

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Tags: @sams-sass​

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Eighteen: Silver)

←Chapter Seventeen 

Early 849

“Elias, can you take this order to Mrs. Los? Do you know where that is?” The boy looked up at me from the coffee beans he was grinding and nodded, taking the bag I handed him. 

“Can you also pick up some milk on the way? Try to get the one at the bottom of the icebox, yeah?” 

“Sure thing, Miss. Eva. What time do you want me back?” I looked up at the clock on the wall, noting that it was almost closing time. By the time he’d be back, I would be cleaning up already. 

“Actually, the milk can wait. Bring it when you come to work tomorrow morning. After you drop off the box to Mrs. Los you can go home.” His face lit up, knowing that I wouldn’t keep him to clean the floors today. With that, he took the money out of my hand and turned to wave with his left hand, just like Jonas, and walk out of the door. I rested my elbows on the front counter, looking around at the few people left in the café. I didn’t feel like cleaning, so I just finished grinding the coffee beans Elias left, waiting for the two tables to leave. 

Elias had started helping me at the café every day since he turned thirteen, the legal age of work, since his father had given up a career in hopes of revitalizing society through the Order of the Walls. Now being older, Elias was getting fed up with the way his parents started treating June and him, saying it was better to starve than forcibly take food from what the Walls supplied. At one point, the boy had stayed at my house the whole week, not wanting to go back home to face the men his father brought over who tried relentlessly to convert him. June was able to shield herself from this by always staying late in the bookshop taking on restoration projects that made her work for hours on end. She would always come into the café tired, needing a cup of coffee, but saying how it was worth it since she didn’t have to go home. At some point, Jonas, Ben, and I had talked about what we might do to help them. They could only stay over at our houses for so long until their parents would get too strict. This meeting we had was prompted by their father wanting to marry off June to someone’s son next summer. If he married her, especially to someone in the strict Order, she would have to quit her job and would not be able to take over the bookstore for herself. She cried to me that night too, Levi sitting in the corner watching her, only to let her sleep with me while he took the couch. When I told Levi about their situation, he could only get angry for their plight but could give no solution. No one knew what the solution was. All I could do was try my best and shield them from home life. However, I did plan to argue for June if her father pushed marriage next summer. 

Speaking of Levi, he was supposed to come over tonight and stay. They had just returned from a rather interesting expedition, and he sent a letter saying that Hange was keeping him locked down for her experiments before he could come. The day after tomorrow, he had to return to, again, plan the next expedition around Hange’s "master plan". The only detail I was allowed to know was the fact that it had to do with capturing a titan. I would have to ask him about that crazy want and how they were going to get a titan through Trost and back to HQ. Hopefully, he brought some of Erwin’s orders too. While most of the Scouts didn’t know about my existence, to keep business going, they ordered from me regularly. Whether it be basic supplies or bread, it came through me first, and then it went to Reeve’s if I couldn’t fulfill. Erwin and Levi were also trying to convince me that with the worsening of the famine, I should just come and work as a cook or stock worker for the Scouts, but I refused. If I left, Elias wouldn’t have money to support his family.

“Have a goodnight, now, Eva!” I waved to the customer who finally left, leaving their stray newspaper on the table, and decided that even if there were ten minutes left before official close, I would start now. As I turned around to get a broom, the knob of the locked door turned and then turned again before opening. Only two people had a key. With a smile on my face and one hand on my hip, I turned to face him. 

“This could be breaking and entering. I’m clo…” Turning to the door, hoping to see Levi, I saw four people standing outside the door looking in. They were all wearing Scout uniforms, and I thought at first Erwin could have sent them to pick up the order, but my raven-headed boy pushed through them, grabbing the key from the older-looking man’s hands. The others seemed like they were lost, not knowing what they were doing here in the first place. Their eyes were heavy too like they had no idea why I was here either. Why had their captain taken them here? I also had the same question.

“I brought them here at this time on purpose. Do you have enough tea?” Levi seemed to be the only one calm as he stepped into the café, walking to a round table in the center that would hold all of us. So he had brought them here… but who were they? It’s not like I knew any Scouts by name, and none of them seemed to be officers. We just stared at each other and Levi clicked his tongue, leaning back in a chair in his usual fashion. 

“U-uh, um, come in. Please.” I put the broom down, gesturing with both hands to have them sit down, and they all waited to see if Levi was going to protest before they stepped in. With the amount of Scouts gathering after hours, I made sure to lock the door and pull all the front shades down so no one from Mitras could think wrong of the situation. Well, I didn’t know what this situation even was, so they could be entirely accurate. Either way, seeing the normal, annoyed look on Levi’s face as he told the four to calm down made me a bit more at ease, walking to the counter to make six cups of tea. 

“Eva?” I looked up at Levi’s call and he had a finger pointing at the red-haired woman next to him, “Petra said she would prefer water, but she was too afraid to ask you herself.” The woman’s face flushed bright red to match her hair, and she held both of her hands up. 

“I-I… I’m not afraid! No! I just didn’t… didn’t want to bother you!” I gave her a soft smile and nodded before turning to get her some ice. They still were silent and I could feel Levi’s annoyance grow when looking over all of them. They had their hands in their laps or eyes looking anywhere but Levi and I. Petra. Petra. Where had I heard that name before? Levi and Hange both mentioned her. What were the other’s names? Maybe if I knew theirs’ it would spark a memory. 

“Does anyone want honey?” I asked, hoping you could get information out of them that way, but they were still all too nervous to answer. None of them could look me in my eyes either and I realized that Levi had probably told them some scary rules before coming here. I sighed. 

“I’ll just bring the whole bottle, yes?” I poured the correct amount of honey into Levi’s cup and put them on two trays, walking over. Levi had an empty chair next to him, one hand already resting over the top, and he pointed down indicating that’s where I was going to sit. When I passed out the cups of tea, they mumbled thank you under their breaths, still not looking up at me. It was almost comical now how afraid they seemed to be of Levi’s wrath if they did something wrong. I was now entirely too curious to see what he'd said and I was going to tease him for it to at least lighten up the mood. 

“Geez, Levi. Did you tell them I bite or something? Don’t worry, I’m not as scary as he is.” This didn’t help to lighten the mood at all, and they looked even more nervous now that I’d just insulted their Capitan right in front of his face. I’d have to remind Levi once again to stop being so mean to the cadets. Every time I would come to HQ, I would watch him outside Erwin or Hange’s window and frown at the punishments he so easily dished out. One time, I even caught his eye and shook my head, causing him to glare and make a cadet get up from doing the hundred push-ups he’s punished them with. 

Levi cleared his throat before sitting forward to address them.

“This is my Special Operations Squad,” He went around the table, “Petra Ral, Oluo Bozado, Eld Jinn, and Gunther Schultz.” They all bowed in their chairs, none of them daring to touch their cup of tea before Levi did. Were they being cautious of him or cautious of the drink I’d given them? Also, did they know who I was? My memory had sparked, remembering Levi talked about Eld, making him a second in command for this new squad. They’d formed a few months previous if what Hange told me was correct. Levi had told me the final lineup so I could confirm that he made the correct choices, even though I knew nothing about titan killing. He’d do that a lot more, asking me my opinion on a Scout matter, just so I could confirm his thinking was correct. One time I disagreed with him and he pouted all day. 

“I’ve heard of all you. The amount of titans you’ve all killed is very impressive.” Again, a chorus of nervous thank-yous came and Levi glared at their apprehensiveness. 

“This is my wife, Evlynn. She owns this café.” I had to swallow hard at whatever emotion came up in my throat as he introduced me as his wife. There had to be some form of reasoning for this, but it made my heart jump again. It had been almost two years since he’d made the promise to marry me someday, and he had yet to act on it. A girl couldn’t be that patient. I could see their eyes almost bug out of their heads as he introduced me as his wife too. So, they didn’t know who I was. Their faces all showed an intense form of disbelief at his words. They could tell just by us sitting next to each other the difference in personality. I was upright and smiling at all of them, making fun of their Captain, and Levi was glaring down at them, his voice being nonchalant about this situation. He almost sounded bored and annoyed he had to introduce me in the first place. 

“Y-You’re married?” The older man let out, making Levi roll his eyes. 

“Not yet. Soon. Why are you all so surprised? Wipe those looks off your faces.” This made me snicker, putting a hand over my mouth as not to ruin the “Captain” hold he had over them. Suddenly, this meeting was going to turn into a fun one on my accord. 

“Don’t be so mean to them, Lev!" You hit him in the shoulder, "They’re going to let you die on the field if you act like this. Please, introduce yourselves to me! One by one!” Again, they seemed disturbed by Levi and I’s juxtaposition, and even Levi turned his head, trying not to glare at me. It was obvious to him what I was doing.

“Eld Jinn. Second-in-command. Wall Rose. Ma’am.” The others gave Eld a weary look at his short introduction, finally looking into my eyes, but when Levi didn’t say anything, they continued. 

“I’m Gunther Schultz, Ma’am. My birthday is July 30th and I am from a small village inside Wall Rose.” This felt weird to me now. They were talking to me with the same prestige as they give Levi, which makes sense, but it was uncomfortable to me. I was probably the same age as all of them and I’m not in the Survey Corps. 

“You can all just call me Eva. I’m not a soldier, I’m a café owner.” Again, all of their gazes went to Levi to see if he would give them this permission. I frowned and glared at Levi. If he wasn’t such a harsh leader, then they wouldn’t be scared of me. I should be happy he’s letting more people know about me, but now it was just making me more annoyed at his treatment of people. 

“In this café, I rank above Captain here. Call me Eva. Oluo,” I pointed to him and he looked at me now, giving the same look Levi’s face would express, “Introduce yourself.” I felt Levi shift next to me, but it was just to reach over and drink his tea. 

“Uh… I’m Oluo Bozado. Like Captain Levi said.” I frowned again, crossing my arms. All their introductions were the same. 

“Any fun fact? How many titans have you killed?” I could see a smirk flit across his face. Ah, now I’ve hit the jackpot. 

“I’ve killed almost thirty titans on my own. Six within my team here.” I turned to Levi, and he side-eyed me. 

“Is that a lot?” I whispered, putting my hand to block my mouth, knowing for a fact that everyone could hear me. Levi smirked into his tea, hiding it with the cup, before going back to his normal face. He shrugged. 

“I have at least double.” The other three had to hide their laughs as Oluo’s jaw clenched. He so badly wanted to yell at Levi, but he knew that if he did, he’d be punished somehow when they got back to HQ. I may rank higher than Levi here, but as soon as they walk out the door, they’re at his mercy.  I just raised my thumb at him. 

“Well, work hard.” I knew my smile cut into his ego, and he sat back in his chair, moping. I turned to Petra, remembering her last name as some family who lived in Trost. I pointed at her and she almost jumped out of her chair. 

“You’re from Trost.” She quickly stood up and bowed, the chair almost sliding back to hit the table behind us. 

“Hello, Eva! Ma’am! I’m Petra Ral! My family is from Trost District! I’m a team player and am devoted to our Captain!” It was the others' turn to laugh at her, but this time they didn’t hide their snickers. She sat down slowly and Levi and I exchanged a glance. His glance basically said ‘She’s usually not like this'. I smiled again and just nodded. 

“I’m glad you’re devoted to such a meanie.” Levi gripped my thigh, which he placed his hand on under the table to try and control my language, but it didn’t work. 

“I can introduce myself then. I’m Evlynn Flynn, but you can call me Eva. I was adopted from the Underground when I was twelve, but I didn’t know Levi back then. My caretaker owned this café before he died, and then he transferred it to me. Levi and I met almost… Oh, has it been almost 5 years already? We met right after he got promoted to Captain.” I saw the way they squirmed under Levi’s gaze. They had questions they wanted to ask, but they couldn’t while he was there. I’d have to fix that. 

“Lev, can you go upstairs and get me a jacket? I’m getting cold.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s the middle of sp-” I kicked him under the table and his glare increased, but he knew what I wanted him to do. With a groan and a big motion of his chair, he exited through the storage room door. As soon as the wood door stopped moving forward, Oluo jumped forward in his chair.

“How did you marry him?” It was a harsh whisper, but the difference in personality made me laugh. 

“We aren’t married yet. I still have a few months to decide if I hate him or not.” That didn’t make him laugh and he still gave me a confused look. Confused that I was with Levi in the first place. 

“Is he as mean with you as he is with us?” Petra cut him off. 

“Captain Levi isn’t mean! He just expects a lot from us, Oluo.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“You assisted us in three kills this last expedition and he goes,” Oluo dropped his eyebrow and squinted his eyes imitating Levi, “Petra. You should have gotten your own kills.” I had to give it to him, the impression was spot on and when I laughed, they all looked at me in silence. Perhaps the rest of them thought Oluo should’ve been more careful speaking in front of me, but my laugh scared them. 

“No, no. That sounds like him. I can just talk back to him where you all can’t.”

“I can’t imagine anyone talking back to Captain Levi,” Gunther said and Eld nodded in agreement, taking a sip. He didn’t talk much. That’s probably why Levi chose him for second-in-command. 

“There are so many things I could tell you, but I’m sure Levi wouldn’t appreciate it,” I leaned in to whisper to them and all four of them followed, “like how he likes his back rubbed before he goes to bed.” Just then, the stockroom door slammed open, hitting the wall next to it, and there Levi was with a sweater in hand. By how tight he was gripping it, I knew he’d been standing by the door listening for a few minutes, probably hearing everything Oluo said. Oluo had to know it too by Levi’s very specifically placed glare. 

“Thank you, Lev.” I could feel his annoyance at that too, me calling his nickname in front of his subordinates. This was a fun little game I knew I was going to get punished for later, but it was worth it. Levi cleared his throat to get everyones’ attention. 

“I brought you all here today because there should be no secrets between our group if we are to maximize teamwork. Moreover, like I would try to protect your family members, which I’ve met, you are expected to also protect mine. No one is to know of Eva outside of you four and various other Scouts. If I find out a rumor has leaked, I won’t hesitate to come to you four.” He, again, glared right at Oluo. I guess he's the troublemaker of the group.

“If you need a place to hide, you all can come here. I’ll lock him out.” Another harsh squeeze to my thigh. Another kick to the leg.

“Alright, you four may leave. Report to Hange Squad tomorrow for training.” They all stood up in an instant when Levi’s Captain voice turned on and affirmed him with a quick yes, Captain Levi! Before gathering to exit. While Levi stayed seated, I stood up and ushered them out, only to notice Petra and Oluo staring at the pastries leftover in the glass case. They probably thought they would be getting some and staying longer than this ten-minute conversation we had. Levi just wanted to get them out before I could say anything too embarrassing. 

“Would you like something to take with?” Petra was the first to wave her hands. 

“No, no. It’s fine, I was-” 

“Peach or apple? It might be the last fresh fruit I get.” One last time, she looked to Levi, who had his back turned to them drinking his tea, and then she nodded slowly. 

“Peach.” When I got back over to her, the three remaining pastries in the box, she was fumbling with some money notes and I shoved the box in her hands.

“You don’t have to pay. It’s for visiting.” Her eyes widened again. 

“I can’t take this! I have to-” I pushed the box harder into her hands, asserting that I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

“Pay me back by keeping Levi safe.” She stood there and stared at me for a few seconds, her eyes twinkling, before bowing sharply. It made me jump with the force she put into it, bending a full ninety degrees.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Behind me, Levi showed the signs of wanting to laugh. His shoulders tensed up and I heard one distinct cough. The others behind her were halfway there too. I just smiled and grabbed her to stand up, waving them off as they got on their horses. Once I got back inside, Levi had let his laugh go. 

“You’re so mean to them. Did you see how tense they were?” He took another sip and I sat back down, turning my chair so I could face him. 

“I’m not mean, I’m assertive. If I’m their Captain, I have to be strict with them.” I rolled my eyes at him and he mimicked me. 

“How old is Petra? They all seem young except Oluo.” Levi looked up at the ceiling to try and think about their ages and then shrugged. 

“I think Petra is twenty. She came to the Scouts the most recent out of all of them. The rest of them, I think, came a year after I did. I don’t pay attention.”

“They’re your team and you know nothing about them?” He scoffed and put the empty teacup down. I replaced it with my own, knowing I wasn’t going to finish. He promptly picked it back up and took a sip. 

“I know their combat and field abilities inside and out. I don’t need to know their birthdays.” I narrowed my eyes at him and smirked, poking his stomach. He swatted at my hand.

“I bet you know all of their birthdays, you just don’t want to seem soft.” I tried to poke him again but this time he grabbed my hand so I couldn’t.

“You’re one to talk. You didn’t know my birthday until last year. Five years you said?” I gasped, putting a hand over my heart. 

“That’s because you refused to tell me! You didn’t give me a gift until this year!” He huffed and grabbed my hand to pull me up onto his lap. This was a sign that he wanted to talk about something semi-serious. 

“What if I marry you for your birthday gift next year?” My eyes narrowed in doubt. 

“Is this one of the things you say you’re going to do and then end up not doing?” He almost choked on his tea. 

“When have I done that? Do you want to get married or not?!” I put my hand on my chin like I was thinking deeply about this. It made me think of the other’s reactions when they found out that we were in fact planning to marry. Well, he did introduce me as his wife. 

“You have to propose to me correctly.” He lifted his head and groaned before pushing me off of him and starting to get on the floor.

“We’ve had this conversation. Here I-” I held my hand up, looking at him down on one knee like I told him it worked. Frankly, it was a dreamy sight, him in his uniform on bended knee in front of me. However, one thing was missing. Maybe two. 

“Ring?” I held out my palm and he left out one big breath before standing back up. 

“You know, I’ve actually looked into it. Why the fuck do you look surprised? Yes. I did, I looked into buying a ring, and guess what? There’s no ring maker in Trost. Not one. That means I have to go all the way to the capital for your request.” I puffed up my cheeks at him, trying to imitate his pout. 

“And is that going to take Humanity’s Strongest another year?” He gained composure and grabbed the teacup again, brushing off his pant legs.

“If you act like this, it’ll take two.”

“I want to get married before I’m thirty.” 

“I’ll do you one better and get married to you on the day you turn thirty.” I glared at him and stood up to collect the teacups on the table that were barely half drunk. I was going to have to fight this man tooth and nail even though he was the one who said yes. 

“You’re turning thirty-two this year, old man. You’re the one who has to rush.” His eyebrow lifted as he got up too to join me by the sink and watch me clean his comrade's dishes. Like he usually does, he just leans on me and puts his arms on either side, hands resting on the edge of the sink. Hands that could help me clean these extra dishes too.

“If I recall, you’re the one who told me to live in the moment. Why rush?” I pointed at the pile of dishes in the rack. 

“You can live in the moment by helping me clean those. Or would you rather mop the floor?” He pushed himself off the sink, rolling his sleeves up to get ready to rinse off the plates and bowls leftover from customers. We just stood there like that, going through our method of rinse to dry, and letting the sun fade behind us. I stole some glances at him, but he was too busy focusing on cleaning the plates that he didn’t notice. I sighed in content and wished he could have stayed another day before he was swept up into meetings. 

“Can I come with you tomorrow to the HQ? We can use Erwin’s orders as an excuse and take my cart?” He just hummed and nodded, finished with the last plate, handing it to me, and turning to lean on the sink like always. It was odd to see the sunshine in Levi’s eyes, reflecting in the silver like a mirror. I didn’t have to turn around to see the sunset, I could just look into his eyes. Moments like this, regardless if it was an hour after he was rude to his team, reminded me just how much warmth he had inside of him. Even now, he was humming, waiting for me to finish. If only I could show Oluo this Levi, then he would understand why’d I want to marry a man like him. 

“Stop staring at me.” I smiled up at him. 

“No.” He clicked his tongue, turning his head to hide the blush I knew was coming to his cheeks. I turned back to finish the last few dishes in the comfortable silence that was created, and Levi just stood there looking out at the only open window again.

“Did you really have to tell them that you rub my back?” I put the last plate back in the cabinet, laughing. 

“What? Humanity’s Strongest doesn’t deserve back rubs?” Turning to face him, I put my hands around his neck and his hands instinctively rested loosely around my waist. He brought one hand up to push a piece of hair that fell out of my bun, back. 

“He does, but not everyone deserves to know that I get them. Like you. Not everyone deserves to get to know you.” 

“Oh, and you do?” We started rocking back and forth to some music playing in both of ours heads. Maybe to the song that he always hummed. Swaying left and right. 

“It’s reparations for the amount of mental trauma you bestow upon me by trying to out me to my comrades.” I paused in the middle, scoffing and letting go of him. He laughed once as I turned away from him, taking off my apron. 

“This was supposed to be a cute moment and you ruined it. You mop the floor.” 

The next day, early in the morning, we traveled back to the HQ, some of Erwin’s orders in hand. It was nice watching the sunrise, both Levi and I in the front bench of the cart, but over that time, I fell asleep again, resting on his shoulder. Only when he moved me off of him, making me wake up, did I know we were near HQ. That way, if anyone was awake, an hour before training, they wouldn’t suspect much but a supply run. Levi would hop off, I would wave him out, and then turn to the Quartermaster stockroom. This was the only person, besides the officers, who I would react with regularly. The only thing was, unlike the officers, the man didn’t know of Levi and me. Today, he wasn’t there either, so I left a note and put the supplies up. Next, was giving Erwin the pastries. 

Being trusted to walk through the Scout HQ alone was something I earned only a few months ago, by Levi’s standard. Still, the only places I walked to were his office, Erwin’s office, or Hange’s office. I would encounter some cadets, and they would bow, believing Erwin’s lie. It actually wasn’t a lie, I was making them bread and pastries, but they all thought I was related to Erwin. He said it was a way for cadets to understand why I would be in the officer’s quarters when other chefs or outside suppliers weren’t allowed. This means I had to be seen talking to Erwin every time I visited, which was starting to be a lot. I didn't mind though, it was nice to talk to him, and you two were creating a friendship slowly. 

“You know, if only I actually looked like you then some cadets wouldn’t question this sibling lie.” I sipped the tea he gave me, making sure if the cadets looked up to Erwin’s window, they would see us standing. 

“Your hair color is the same as my father's and no one knows that my mother also had blue eyes. If they ask you, just say you look like my mother.” I turned, leaning on the glass and looking up at him.

“And when they find out?” He put his coffee down, looking out the window again at the new cadets having sparring practice that Levi watched over. 

“Well, if they find out about your relationship first, it will help us because the new cadets think the officers have a sort of harem. If they find out we aren’t siblings, which will be a bit hard with their limited resources, it is an easy cover-up.” I laughed, covering it with my hand, and glanced over at Levi who was conveniently looking up at us. He couldn’t act out anything or even look at us too long, but I could read his look. He was hungry and annoyed at the number of kids they didn’t receive after the 103rd Cadets were disbanded. 

“A harem? Who’s involved?” He set his coffee down and decided it was time to get back to paperwork, leaving me alone at the window. 

“Most of the time it’s a combination of myself, Captain Levi, maybe Squad Leader Hange, and some other officer.” I laughed out loud this time, still leaving my gaze on the field below. 

“I better watch out or you might steal him from me, Erwin.” He chuckled too, shaking his head. I went away from the window, choosing to sit in a chair across from him. I was told to stay in here until Hange came and got me so nothing else would be suspicious. 

“I don’t think anyone is stealing Captain Levi from you, Eva. If you can get him to marry you willingly, I don’t think he’ll ever leave you.” I rolled my eyes and looked down at the papers he was working at. Hm. Why does the Commander seemingly have fewer papers than a Captain?

“Well, we aren’t married yet. You have probably a few years to take him away if you wanted. I recommend not doing that, however. His paperwork already takes him away from me.” I glared at the stack of papers and he knew then what I was talking about, yet he decided not to comment. Instead, he steered the conversation over that bump effortlessly. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this, but Captain Levi has asked me a few times about marriage… as if I would know anything about it, but I’ve given advice. I believe him to be apprehensive because he’s never been around someone married. Only a few officers in the Scouts are.” I put down my empty cup, pulling my legs up in the chair. 

“Oh, I know. He goes to Hange about “women” things too, but she’s not afraid to tell me all about it. I’m sure she’ll tell me more today. I’m glad you’re helping him though.” 

“I’d rather Levi leave certain things out when he talks to me, but I’m happy to help, Eva. Did you two ever figure out the bondage situ-?” My face went completely red. 

“- I’m going to kill him.” Erwin smiled.

“Please don’t. We need Captain Levi alive.” I glared at his playfulness. Over the past year or so, getting closer to Erwin, I see exactly what Levi means when he talks about him. A hidden devil. 

“Eva!” The door slammed open announcing Hange’s arrival after her squad had complete training. Moblit was trailing behind her too, “You will not believe what I have to tell you today!” 

“I will see you sometime later, Eva.” I stood up, giving a playful glare at Erwin, before walking out with Hange’s arm wrapped in mine. 

“Hi Moblit,” I said to the boy and he just nodded, walking behind us. I guess he wasn’t that much younger, me being older than Hange as well.

“So, I heard you met Levi Squad. How was it? How was it?”

“I barely got to talk to them. It was a five-minute conversation and then he kicked them out.” She turned around, looking at Moblit before we headed into her office. 

“You’re excused, Moblit!” I turned to wave to him, but she shoved me into her office. She turned around, slamming her back on the door, a wicked smile on her face. I would’ve been scared if I didn’t know this was regular Hange behavior. Whenever Levi let her in on a single thing about us, she would corner me to make me elaborate on a single word or sentence of his. Personally, I thought Hange was trying to live vicariously through us, even when Moblit was at her beck and call, but it didn’t bother me much. Levi said he talked to her about it once, but she was the only one who could get away with not listening to him. 

“I have been asked for advice, but I think you better just tell me so it turns out well in the end.” I raised an eyebrow and hopped up to sit on her table. This time, there was a new notebook and a lot more drawings of titans. This notebook looked worn and had a brown cover, unlike Hange’s usual green leather ones. I had the urge to open it while she was debating inside her head how to start this conversation. 

“Is this one thing I can’t tell Levi you’ve talked to me about?” She snapped her finger, pointing at me and nodding once. 

“Exactly!” She walked closer and leaned in like she was telling a secret in a room full of people, “He asked me what type of rings girls like!” I laughed out loud, shocking Hange when I had to hold my stomach too. Levi was still afraid to ask me these things and I wondered who he was going to for advice because it was pretty sound. Any gift he’d get me, minus the rose balm, was something that I liked and I knew he didn’t have any idea what was likable about it. Dresses and hair clips were not Captain Levi’s specialty. 

“Specifically you and no one else? Will I have three or four people asking me this same question?” She joined me on the table, moving to grab a pencil and a pad of paper. 

“Erwin and I this morning at our brief. The one where nothing gets done. He didn’t talk the whole time and when he did he asked that of all things. Must’ve been on his mind.” She nudged me, handing me the pencil to draw. Honestly, I’d never put thought to it, even when I’d look at Analee’s in awe as a little girl. Her's was too thick. Too gold. Too complicated. I needed to use my hands a lot at the bakery too, so it had to be something I could take on and off. And something I wouldn’t feel bad getting dirty. 

“I don’t have to draw it. Just a simple silver circle.” She looked at me, blinking twice, before grabbing the pencil from me. 

“Well that isn’t what I thought you would say. What about something like this?” She lifted the pad, showing me something she’d draw up with three stones. No. 

“I don’t want stones.” Her mouth fell open. 

“You have a man who probably hordes money stacks taller than him and you don’t want him to buy you something expensive? What about just one stone?” She quickly erased the two on the side and I shook my head. Levi did, seemingly, have lots of money to spend since he just put away his Military notes and didn’t spend it, but I didn’t care about that. 

“Receiving something expensive just because it’s expensive isn’t genuine. I just want something simple, Han. A silver ring. Maybe a bit thinner than normal.”

“Eva,” she put the pad down on the table, turning to grab my hands, “He’s not going to believe me if I tell him that.” 

“But that’s what I want, Hange. Tell him that I want him to have one too.” She groaned and let go of my hands, jumping off of the table to go to her desk. 

“He’s going to be annoyed with me again! He thinks you want some big, complicated affair and even I told him that you don’t expect that of him.” I turned to her, glancing again at the worn notebook. Maybe I’d ask her to look at it. 

“He said I wanted something big? Does he know that between the two of us there are exactly five family members and a handful of Scouts? Besides, I know he won’t agree to a wedding.” She held her hand up, shaking both it and her head. 

“I’m not too sure about that one. It seems he’s willing to do anything you want on this topic. He’s just mentally preparing himself.” I snorted, thinking about how long he’s made me wait since he first proposed the idea. 

“He has to ask me first before I can think about a wedding or a get-together. I also have to tell those same five family members that this is even happening. Dragging Jonas or even Ben to a wedding is hard to begin with, but a wedding they probably oppose? Not going to happen. I just told him we can go to the city center and have it done there. I’m content with that.” In a huff, she plopped down in her office chair, shaking her head and not understanding why someone would make this such a simple process. While Hange said she’d never get married, she always thought about the partying aspect of it. She also said that if she had the chance, she’d like to try to drink Levi under the table and a wedding was the perfect place for that. I was probably ruining her dreams as we speak. 

“So silver, thin ring. Easy to find, not easy to convince him that’s what you want.” I frowned and my hands went out to my sides. 

“I don’t understand why it’s so hard? It’s not like I’m spending money left and right!” The look in her eyes flattened, and she followed with a deadpan. 

“You spent almost five hundred notes on a new coffee machine because it was in a peach color.” I hopped of the table in my defense, but the door opened before I was able to. 

“What are you two yelling about in here?” I stood up straight, turning to the man of the hour, and just shook my head. 

“Just bad things about you.” He rolled his eyes at my smile, a faint one on his lips, before grabbing my hand and turning back to the door. 

“Bye, Hange!” I waved, and Levi just grunted.

“Do you even have conversations with her or does she just talk at you?” It was my turn to roll my eyes as I closed the door of his office behind me, following him to his desk. When he sat down, ready to start some paperwork, I sat the other way on his lap, chest to chest. This was our ritual, having found it out late one night when Levi’s heart couldn’t be calmed down from his nightmare. When he was stressed, this would calm him down easily, having my hands work out knots in his back and him able to bury his face in my hair to ground him. It was also just comfortable. Therefore, every time he would do paperwork, an always stressful situation, he would have me sit like that. Now, it was just muscle memory. 

“Conversations. You just don’t talk to anyone.” I lifted my hands to between his shoulder blades where he would always get knots. He sighed into my hair, scribbling something down on the paper in front of him. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but I just signed off on an expedition that falls a few days before your birthday.” I pulled back, looking him in the eyes and hoping my pout would turn around a military decision. Obviously it didn’t work, but he raised one hand to pat my head. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll still marry you when we get back. I’m a man of my word.” 

“Mhm, sure.” He scoffed and pushed my head back to where it was playfully. I complied, but this time I punished him but not massaging his back. 

“Your little kids graduate that day. Didn’t you say they’d come visit you or something?” I subconsciously traced his back, pulling myself closer to feel his heat. 

“The last letter I received from them was last year. In it he said they graduated at Trost, so once they are free, they can come to the cafe and wait for you all to get back from your expedition before joining the Scouts officially. I’ve heard they all three are doing pretty good though. Survived that winter hike you were talking about.” He just nodded, now paying more attention to his paperwork. 

“You said there were two boys and a girl? Sure they’re joining the Scouts if they’re doing well? Top ten usually go to MPs.” 

I shook my head, “No, Eren was quite serious about the Scouts. I don’t know the other two though. You’re assured one.” He huffed once in laughter. 

“Great.” 

“His resolve seems solid too.”

“Mhm.” I shifted my eyes to see how concentrated he was on his paperwork. When he had the tip of his tongue out, that’s when you knew he wasn’t going to pay attention to anything else. 

“Who knows if he’s a good fighter though?” 

“Yeah.”

“Maybe they’ll all go to the Garrison if they can’t fight.” 

“Yes.” 

“When are you going to the capital to get me a ring?” 

“Tomorrow.” I pulled away from him, trying to find his eyes, but he lowered his head, noting the mistake he just made. 

“Tomorrow?” I poked at him, my smile going from ear to ear. I could even see a little blush that painted his cheeks. 

“If you keep bothering me, it will be never.”

-

Trost was bustling that day, and rightfully so. I was three days away from finally being married, the two, slim silver bands hanging off a small chain around my neck, and the new cadets had gathered on top of the walls. There were even more people in the café than there had been these last few months. It was, honestly, a perfect day, and I hoped that this atmosphere would last for a while. The famine had brought down morale and business, so much so, that it was getting to the point where the café would only be open three times a week, and even then I would sit there in an empty space for hours with Elias doing his school work. Today, however, June and Elias were talking to their friends who had shown up to buy a slice of pie with their pocket change. It was fun to see kids be kids again, and I hoped that I could introduce June and Elias to the other three, seeing they were all close in age. June and Armin, they would like each other seeing they were both bookworms. Eren and Elias, well, they could gush more about the Scouts together, even when Eren is almost considered a Scouts. The possibilities were making me happy, the prospect of the next three days was making me happy, and I had gotten word that the Scouts would be back in the early morning unlike before. The day of my birthday. It really was an unusual day in Trost. 

It was warm too. Looking back on it now, I remember it being unusually warm for spring. So warm that I had to go and open the front windows of the café, leaning over the table that June and Elias sat at. I took a moment to marvel at the walls too, noticing the increase in people, and trying, even if it was too far anyways, to spot one of the three. Even if you were closer to the outer wall than the inner, they looked like ants all the way on the top. I closed my eyes, feeling the small amount of breeze run through my hair. It was a moment of peace.

And one I took for granted. 

There was a sound, larger than thunder, and it flashed. When I opened my eyes, coupled with the screams, there it stood. I didn’t even have time for fear to well in my eyes when a blast of air sent me flying into the edge of the window. I let out a gasp as my back slammed into the edge, knocking the wind out of me. It shattered the screens I had just opened too. There were screams all over the place and I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want it to be true. No. No. No. Why now? Why when all the Scouts were gone? It had been so long since I’d thought about the possibility of this happening, and now, when I opened my eyes again, shaking in fear, the Colossal Titan looked back. Like everyone else around me, I let out a piercing scream.

xx Ah yes, we’re finally here. Attack on Titan. No more sweet and cute moments :) maybe some,,,,,,

Chapter Nineteen→ 

Chapter Masterlist 

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Christmas Miss-mas” (au)

Summary: It’s been a year since they saw each other, after the previous year’s disastrous events, but what the two remember is hardly what it seems. One basement, three different events.

Rating: T

A/N: Hiiiii @ouatpost. I feel like you should’ve known it was me from the moment I went “Well, this is going to be laaaaate,” because that’s what I seem to do every damn year. BUT! I have this completed and just in the nick of time for the end of 2020! I hope you enjoy! I had much grander visions for this, but thanks to work (we have a trio of new employees we’re trying to wrangle and it’s uhhhhh not going well at all) and a slew of dumb complications (this morning’s was waking up to a pinched nerve in my neck) I was just happy to be able to get words on the page for you, hopefully in an order that pleases you, with some details you shared that you enjoy reading! It’s not as grand as I wanted, but I do hope it’s still to your liking. <3

Thank you @cssecretsanta2020 for another awesome year, and for knocking me back into my writing. You are a rockstar and deserve so many fruit baskets in gratitude. 

-x-

Christmas Party 2019

As far as parties go, Mary Margaret and David Nolan’s Christmas Party has always been Emma’s favorite. For as long as she’s been a Storybrooke resident, there’s been a party to go to. Back when she was fifteen and freshly adopted by David’s mother, Ruth, the parties were a little different. They drank sparkling grape juice and hung out in the farmhouse’s basement.

That’s where David met Mary Margaret his senior year of high school, where they officially decided to start dating the week after, and where he asked her to marry him four years later.

When Ruth passed away the year after they were married, David moved back into the farmhouse with Mary Margaret, and the two of them began restoring the house. Now, after all these years, the house is exactly what the two of them have always wanted with the recent addition of a nursery for their upcoming child.

What does any of this have to do with Emma? Well, with David as her brother, she’s expected to be at the party every year. She also offered to help with whatever Mary Margaret needed since she’s due next month and she knows the expectant mother is going to go overboard as usual. And while she’s never had the urge or need to cancel in the past, she fervently wishes she could this year.

 For the first time in a year, she’s going to be facing Killian – former best friend, complicated story… the man she thought was the love of her life, if she’s being 100% honest. Her stomach flutters, thinking about how David had casually mentioned Killian was back in town. They’ve done just fine avoiding each other since last year, but with Killian’s own invitation to the party implied, she knows that their streak is likely to end tonight.

In the event that this is the case, Emma has spared no attention to detail for her outfit. She’s strong. She’s independent. And she certainly doesn’t need a man in her life to make it valid. So what if she wants to remind Killian of everything he’s missing out on? The red dress hugs her body, and is probably lower cut than she usually wears around her brother, but she doesn’t care.

Makeup? Perfect. Hair? Flawless. Jewelry? The earrings are from Killian, and she tries to ignore the way that makes her feel as she secures the backing. With one last fluff of her hair and a quick check to make sure she didn’t get lipstick on her teeth, Emma takes a bracing breath and grabs her coat as she walks out of her apartment.

-x-

Alone in a room in Granny’s B&B, Killian stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror with dread crossing his features. He checks his pocket watch one last time, knowing he has to leave if he’s to make it there fashionably late instead of just plain tardy.

It’s been almost a full year since he saw Emma last.

He can hardly remember a time before that where they went more than a week without seeing each other, not to mention talking or texting every day. For years, the two of them had been inseparable, since the first time they met. He braces himself on the edge of the sink as he thinks about the series of parties they’ve lived through together, looking at himself only once he feels the pain fade from his expression.

While he’s always looked forward to The Nolan Christmas Party in the past, he’s sure Emma wants nothing to do with him after what happened last year. He’s still not sure how exactly he went from total euphoria one moment to losing his best friend, the woman he loves, all in the next moment.

Loves.

Bloody hell, but it’s true. He still loves her with every dark corner of his heart, not that it matters much. Etched into his memory is the look she gave him after… just after.

With one last heavy sigh at the lost moments and memories, Killian checks his reflection for the last time. He looks like shit, as he confirms as he glances over his reflection. At least he went for a haircut and shaved down his beard before tonight. Liam had taken to calling him Chuck, after Tom Hanks’ character on Castaway, and asking him if he’d lost Wilson again.

Right. Time to face the past. He slips on his jacket and heads out the door.

Christmas Party 2015

It’s not every day you meet your equal in the basement of someone else’s house, but that’s how Killian and Emma meet. 

Emma wanders down to the unfinished basement to quietly raid the cookies she knows Mary Margaret didn’t put out and finds a man sitting on the half-finished bar. By next year, Emma’s sure this area, too, will be up and running for the yearly party and she can’t wait.

But back to the stranger sitting in her brother’s basement.

“Hi there,” she says when she hits the bottom step.

His head jerks up and he lurches off the bar, glancing up to look at the door Emma shut behind her. “Bollocks,” he mutters, hanging his head again and dragging himself back to where he’d been sitting.

“What’s going on?” Emma asks, looking between the guy she still doesn’t know and the basement door. Was he waiting for someone else? Disappointed that it’s not another woman that wandered down here? Or man? She doesn’t know what he’s into, but far be it for her to judge.

“Welcome to the basement party. Population is now two, and you are also stuck down here.” He’s brooding, clearly, but he has to be lying.

Emma jogs back up the stairs and tries the door, surprised to find that the handle doesn’t budge. It’s locked. How is it locked? Why is it locked?

“David!” Emma yells out as she bangs on the door. “David, the door is locked!”

“He won’t hear you,” the man says from the bottom of the staircase. “The speaker seems to be precisely in a location that’s drowning out all sound from the door. And there’s too many people moving around for anyone to hear the ruckus I’ve been making against the ceiling for the last half hour.”

“Fuck. You’re not kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Great.”

“Aye. Well, nice to meet you, lass. I’m Killian Jones. I tagged along with Will.” He jumps off the bar again to hold out his hand to her.

“Emma Swan. Sister of the host. And apparently locked down in my brother’s basement with a complete stranger.”

“You can’t call us complete strangers if we already know each other’s names.” 

“That’s flimsy logic, and you know it,” Emma says, crossing her arms after extracting her hand from his. He’s flirting with her? At a time like this?

“Ah, but now we’ve got time to get acquainted, it seems,” he says, holding out his arms to indicate the empty space they’re occupying.

She should be disappointed about missing the party, but it’s quickly obvious that all the good food is stashed down here, as are all of Emma’s favorite cookies. And while the bar and surrounding basement might not be finished yet, there’s a good selection of wine and beer already in stock. And, if she’s being honest with herself, he’s certainly nice to look at. She’s curious to see if the personality matches the looks.

Emma finds the cushions for the outdoor furniture and throws them on the floor as she and Killian graze the offerings like a picnic. They pass the time by talking shit about the people they don’t like at the party, and she’s surprised by how easily she gets along with him already.

As the time ticks by, she finds herself laughing, enjoying herself more than if she’d been upstairs getting shitfaced and avoiding said people she doesn’t like.

The music cuts out at 11pm, and while it would be the perfect opportunity for either one of the trapped guests to make noise to get rescued, both of them are fast asleep, stretched out on cushions with Killian’s suit jacket draped over Emma’s shoulders.

At 11:30pm when the last guests finally head out, David heads to the basement to get a fresh box of trash bags and finds Emma asleep with a man he only briefly met at the start of the party.

“Emma?”

She startles awake, sitting up and blinking at David in confusion.

“What are you doing down here?” he asks, noticing that Killian is still out solid.

“Killian and I got locked down here. Your door sucks,” Emma grumbles, just avoiding rubbing her eyes so she doesn’t smear her makeup. “Killian. Hey. Wake up.” With a few shoves of his shoulder, Emma rouses her companion. “David, I’m staying in the guest room. And you’re out of Malbec.”

“Noted,” David says, still very befuddled with everything going on. “Killian? Do you need to crash here for the night? I know you arrived with Will but he left with Belle over an hour ago.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Killian says, sounding more alert than Emma would’ve expected after how fast asleep he was.

“You’re not,” she tells him. “I’ll give you a ride home in the morning.”

It’s this, more than anything, which makes David raise his eyebrows in surprise. He hasn’t seen Emma take this fast to anyone… almost ever. Here she is falling asleep near and offering a ride to someone David knows by reputation alone. (Said reputation is a mixed bag from some questionable sources, so he will do his best to reserve judgement despite his protective instincts firing up.)

Even as David helps Killian get settled on the couch, Emma is puttering around with a blanket and pillow, explaining where everything is if Killian should need it. When David and Emma get upstairs to the entrance to both his bedroom (a single glance shows Mary Margaret face-down on the bed without even changing) and the guest room, he goes to ask the obvious, but Emma just smiles.

“Goodnight, David. Go tend to your wife,” she says with an affectionate smile. She hugs him and walks into the room, closing the door behind her.

What on Earth just happened? he wonders. 

Christmas Party 2019

 Getting to the Nolan household early means more than just helping set everything up. It also means getting to spend time with her sister-in-law before the chaos of the party begins. 

Emma heads straight to the office on the first floor and hangs her coat on the rolling rack they have specifically for this purpose. She takes a deep breath and goes to find Mary Margaret to get the other woman off her feet as much as possible.

As they finish the party preparations, Emma happily listens to the town gossip and the baby updates.

“You know Killian will be here tonight, right?” Mary Margaret’s question is tentative. She doesn’t really know what happened between the two of them, but she’s never pushed. Emma is pretty sure she knows the depth of Emma’s feelings for Killian, so the fact that she a) never told him (notoriously bad secret-keeper that she is) and b) never harassed Emma for any information she didn’t willingly give has been a huge relief.

“I thought I’d heard that rumor,” Emma says, trying to keep her voice calm and even. She can do this. She can come face to face with the man she loves… Loved? She stops herself from sighing, not even sure if she managed to shuffle that into the past tense.

“I just wanted you to be prepared,” Mary Margaret says, still doing her best not to pry even though Emma can hear that note in her voice that screams of curiosity.

Emma just smiles, shaking her head and putting the finishing touches on the charcuterie board she’s been painstakingly assembling. “How’s that?” she asks when she’s done, taking a picture of the whole butcher’s block and going to show her so Mary Margaret doesn’t have to get up.

“Perfect. You know, in another life you could’ve been a party planner,” the other woman remarks, and Emma chuckles under her breath. 

In another life, that’s what she wanted to do. But somehow, she found her niche in bail bonds, instead, enjoying the hunt a little more than she thought she would. Sure, it takes her away from home sometimes. She’s a member of multiple hotel preferred programs and top tier in all of them at this point. 

There’s something about the chase that’s always thrilled her. It’s something new and exciting at every turn, and there’s something extra satisfying about catching people that otherwise thought they could slip away unnoticed from their bad deeds. 

But thanks to her passion for details specifically at social gatherings, Emma easily plays co-host and makes sure to circulate once the guests start arriving. 

She’s in the office hanging up Ruby’s coat when she turns and runs directly into someone. Someone that smells far too familiar, who feels familiar against where her hands are braced on his chest. Her stomach clenches for multiple reasons and she thinks about running, but something compels her to look up, to meet his eyes. 

“Swan,” he whispers. His hand is on her waist from when they collided, and she can feel the warmth of his skin, longs for the way that hand has touched her with casual intimacy for so many years now. 

“Killian.” Her voice is hoarse all of a sudden, and she swallows in order to continue, to say anything to him, to ask him why. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” she says instead, breaking away and exiting the room as quickly as she can.

-x-

He knew it wouldn’t be easy seeing her again, and had all hopes that he wouldn’t be met with hostility or hatred. Her sad confusion, however, may hurt even more. He doesn’t know how they ended up like this. He still replays last year over and over searching for the details that may unlock her radio silence for a whole bloody year but with how that night played out, he can only assume that what happened was a mistake to her. 

Emma is still the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. No matter where she goes throughout the party, he can catch sight of her glowing and schmoozing. She’s a delight, a natural-born socialite without the reputation of one. 

Multiple times, he finds her near. He doesn’t move when he notices her, too terrified of scaring her off. But sooner or later she realizes he’s close and swiftly finds herself a new task to attend to, thus leaving him lurking and definitely sulking in a corner. 

Halfway through the event, he can’t take it anymore. It’s impossible being in proximity with Emma and not being able to talk to her and interact with her as he used to. Right after the party last year, he got called back to England. His brother, still living in London, had called to alert him of his father’s passing. The next year was an endless battle of selling off the old man’s house and possessions, and also celebrating the birth of Liam’s first child. 

Since he was only able to come back for brief moments, Will had sublet his room in their apartment and Killian would stay at Granny’s when he would come back.

He was in town for Emma’s birthday, but he never saw her, never managed to text her, never heard from her… 

Tonight? It’s obvious that what’s between them will never be fixed. Along with that, he fears his heart may never mend.

Christmas Party 2018

Emma was right - the finished basement is even better than she could’ve imagined. The difference between sitting down here this time and the first time is that she and Killian aren’t stuck. They’re just hiding out for a bit to escape the party. Around them are the remnants of a bottle of rum, a plate of cookies and chocolates, and way more cheesy potatoes than she meant to steal but she panicked. 

“So what are we doing for New Years?” Emma asks as she leans back against the wall behind the bar. Now that the door to the upstairs doesn’t lock, they’ve taken to literally hiding from anyone that might find them. The bar is tall enough that someone would have to come around or lean over it to actually see them which works perfectly fine for her. 

“Whatever your heart desires, love. As long as I get my cheeky kiss at midnight, you know I’m a happy man.”

She smiles, thinking of the previous year’s “cheeky kiss” which was truly a kiss on his cheek. There was no one she wanted to kiss at midnight, and Killian was standing next to her. And she couldn’t very well imagine another year without a New Years kiss so she grabbed his face and planted a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek above his beard. He’d worn that kiss the rest of the night. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll get your kiss,” she remarks, turning to do it again but doesn’t anticipate that he’s turning towards her as well, and instead kisses him directly on the lips.

It was probably out of surprise that they sat there for a few seconds like that, lips pressed together. And then he kisses her back. He tastes like rum and chocolate as his tongue slips out to taste her lips, and she can’t help but sigh into the kiss.

His lips feel like she always imagined they would. She’s been curious in the past but what they have is far too precious for her to mess up with sex, so she never made a move. But there have been lonely nights where she pretended that their snuggling during movies was more than platonic, that holding his hand was something real. She’s woken up to his arm around her more times than she can count but the dream always fades by the time he opens his eyes and brings her back to reality.

This, however, is unearthing every desire and wish she’d ever had for what the two of them could become. This is giving her a vivid picture of snowed-in nights and lazy Sunday mornings. Of interrupting Killian’s work at his little desk in the corner of his room to climb into his lap and do her best to distract him. Of making him breakfast at the loft and giving up in order to be pulled into his embrace and tightly held against him. 

As if he can hear her thoughts and is making up for lost time, she feels Killian’s hand snake around her waist to pull her closer, until her legs are thrown over his lap and they’re as close as they can be without her straddling him. The food around them is forgotten; the bottle of rum - thankfully capped - knocked over in their haste.

It’s right when their hands start decidedly less innocent wandering that Emma thinks that they should maybe slow down, especially since they’re still in the basement and the party's still going on above their heads. 

“Wait,” she says, her voice husky as her hand caresses his cheek. He pulls back, as if startled to find that it was her he was making out with the whole time. If she had to label the expression on his face, it would have to be named Panic, and she starts to wonder why that might be. 

“There you are! What are you two doing down here?” David’s voice from over the bar startles them out of the moment entirely. 

Killian scrambles to stand up. “Not a thing, mate. Enjoying your sister’s favorite dish in some peace and quiet.” He at least has the decency to hold out a hand to help her up, but when she’s on her feet he already feels like he’s a million miles away. 

“Emma? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, forcing a smile and extracting her hand out of Killian’s and moving around the bar. “Need help with anything?” 

David starts talking about wine and crackers and Emma moves on autopilot behind him, walking away from Killian and feeling her heart ice over as she does. 

Nothing. It meant nothing to him, she thinks as they climb the stairs and move back to the party. So that’s what she would treat it as. 

She doesn’t turn back to see Killian still bracing himself on the bar, his expression conflicted and longing. 

Two days later, before she could figure out if things were going to go back to normal, she finds out Killian is gone. His few belongings are in the apartment storage and Will is subletting his room. She had dodged all his calls, but the fact that he left without a goodbye was telling enough. 

And just like that, her best friendship and her heart were broken in the same instance. 

Christmas Party 2019

He’s not even sure how long he’s been hidden away in the basement, only that he has no desire to make his way back to the party. Surely, there must be a way for him to sneak out without anyone noticing. It was a mistake to attend tonight.

With intent to do just that, to skulk out without catching attention, Killian moves to stand but promptly halts when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. He pushes himself closer to the bar to hide in the shadows, willing the intruder to leave as quickly as possible.

He keeps his head tucked down to avoid being noticed, so imagine his surprise when it’s Emma’s voice that reaches his ears. 

“Just had to go and take our hiding spot,” she says quietly, and he lifts his head to see her standing at the opening of the bar, a plate of cookies in one hand, a bowl of cheesy potatoes in the other, and a beer tucked beneath her arm. 

She walks a little closer, stopping at the end of the bar and placing down her bounty before sliding onto the last barstool. 

Taking it as a cue that she’s not going to run from him, Killian stands and rummages in the small fridge for a beer of his own. 

“Not running this time?” He asks as he cracks it open. 

“I’m too tired,” she says, propping her head up with the hand not picking at the cookies. 

He takes a step closer, grabbing her bottle and popping off the cap. 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, and hesitates just a moment more before she’s pushing her plate of cookies towards him. 

They’re silent for a moment, the music just barely reaching their seclusion. 

“You look beautiful tonight, Swan.”

There’s a hint of a smile, but she only dips her head in gratitude as she continues to graze. 

“Listen, love. I still don’t know what’s happened between us, but I have been bloody miserable without you this last year. You add color to my life. Without you it’s been… so grey. So underwhelming. I miss you. Please - I’ll do whatever’s in my power to make things right again, but please let us be friends, at the very least.”

“I’m not nothing,” she responds after another moment. She’s looking him directly in the eyes this time and he sees a world of hurt and sadness there. 

“What?”

“I’m not nothing. Never was. Never will be.”

“Of course you’re not nothing. Why would…”

And then he realizes it. Realizes exactly what he said at a most critical time between them. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he mutters, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “Emma, that’s not what I meant. You most definitely aren’t nothing. You’re everything. You were - still are! - my everything.” 

“Then why did you get so defensive with David?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. I’d finally had you in my arms where I wanted you. I didn’t want you running off.” He winces, giving her a sheepish look. “Which you did anyway, but I promise, love. You misunderstood. I wanted you to have time to process. I didn’t want your brother in our business so soon after that moment.”

“Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you try calling me?”

“I did. Before I left. I wanted nothing more than to see you before I went to London. So when you ignored my calls, I figured it was best to leave it at that. It’s why I stayed away so long.”

“I thought you thought it was a mistake. That kissing me was a mistake,” she admits. 

“That kiss was the best bloody idea either of us ever had. It’s everything that came after that should’ve never happened.”

-x-

Hearing Killian admit that kissing her was definitely not a mistake goes a long way in healing Emma’s heart. It’s what helps her ease off the stool and move closer to where he’s standing until she’s right in front of him. 

“Not a mistake?”

“No,” he answers promptly. 

“Neither of us will be running?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” Emma says, closing the final inches between them and kissing him softly. 

At the wrecked noise he makes, she’s lost to it all. What starts as a soft, simple kiss quickly turns heady. Her hands end up along his face and into his hair while his hand is on her lower back, urging her closer. 

“Did you drive?” Emma asks, her hand dropping down to his tie. 

“Aye. And other than this beer I haven’t been drinking.”

“To my place?”

He doesn’t respond with words, instead bending to kiss her again before they come up with their plan to escape. 

In the morning, Emma wakes up to Killian’s arm wrapped around her and everything finally feels like it’s back in place. 

Christmas 2020

For the first time since Emma has lived in Storybrooke, the Nolan Christmas Party is cancelled. 

Instead, everyone boots up their computers or phones, opting for facetime celebrations instead of in-person ones. 

Cooped up in her tiny loft, Emma is just fine with this. A nice little spread of finger foods and cookies is on the coffee table, and Killian collapses next to her, already in his pajamas as she starts the call to David and Mary Margaret.

“Merry Christmas!” the other couple greets while baby Leo babbles happily in David’s lap. 

“Happy Christmas,” Killian greets while Emma gives her own sentiments. She snuggles into his side as the call continues, feeling like she’s right where she’s meant to be.

And this time there’s no basement involved.

[barashikki-dialoversoc]

02. Deceived

Word Count:  2056

Warnings: intimidation, deception, slight non-consensual touching

~~~~~

The ride to the new home was a long one. Bara found herself reading nearly an entire novel before the car came to a final halt. When she did look up, the view in front of her left her in awe. 

A large and old-looking mansion. Not to mention there were some rosebeds in the front that showed they wound around the back. The place was tall and long, indicating that if Bara wanted to be by herself away from the guardian’s other kids, she thankfully could. 

Bara got out of the car and retrieved what she still had with her since leaving the old apartment. While some objects she did take, most of the furniture would be donated to those in need. All that was on her was clothes, small furniture items from her bedroom, photos of her family, and the family scarf given to her by her parents. 

Walking up to the front door with her school bag, a backpack, and her suitcase was a bit of a struggle, and even more so when she attempted to knock on the door. 

It only took one knock and the door swung open. Gratitude filled Bara as she was thankful for someone helping her with moving in. But upon entering and taking a deep breather did she realize no one was there. 

She turned her head left to right to see if anyone was around. There was no one. 

“Uh… Hello?” 

She entered a bit more and adjusted her bags near the base of the stairs. Already she felt the doom of having to haul her luggage even more up if her room wasn’t on the ground floor. 

Even when trying to figure out where people were, she still found herself in awe of the mansion. Sure, it was dreary, but it was still an amazing feat to have a home like this in Japan. It was a sure sign of wealth if someone had this much land and such a large home with intricate detail. 

As she observed the surroundings, she did pick up on footsteps coming from her left. She turned her head to see who it was. 

There in front of her was a tall man with glasses. He was well dressed and had his violet-black locks neatly kept. The glare he sent at her wasn’t pleasant, but Bara knew not to let it unnerve her. 

“And who are you?” he asked rather coldly. 

“I’m Bara Shikki. I was told that a Mr Togo Sakamaki was going to take me in with his other children since I no longer have a guardian.” Bara held her tongue, refraining from asking if the male before her was one of the siblings mentioned. She didn’t want to possibly upset him more. 

The male sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That man did it again…” He was quick to snap up and look over at Bara. “Follow me this instant. The man that ‘took you in’ did not inform us of you arriving.”

Bara was quick to listen and follow him. Only one question came up as she followed. “I do have quite a bit of things. Is there anywhere you want me to take it once done?”

He looked at her slightly as they walked, Bara slightly behind him. “No need. Your bags have already been taken care of.”

Bara gave a glance back at where she sat her stuff to see it was now gone. Was there a butler or maid that fast around here?

She was directed into a living room, the only one already there being a blond laying on the couch. The room was better lit than the grand entrance and seemed cozier as well. 

“Take a seat, Miss Shikki. I will gather my other brothers and an explanation will be given to why you’re here.” The male next to her stated. 

“But… I thought it was just a guardian thing? What else could it be?” Bara asked. She was confused about what he meant. 

He only glanced at her in irritation. “Sit down. What you were told was merely a way to get you willingly to our home.”

The last comment sent a chill though Bara, but the tone also made her meek and quietly obedient. Something was off, and now knowing she was merely given a temptation to come to this place made her even more nervous. 

Soon enough, four other males joined the first two. The one that Bara had interacted with most taking lead again in speaking. 

“We have a new guest, Miss Bara Shikki. It seems she was sent here by that man and will be staying with us from now on. Be kind and do not kill her.”

The color in her face paled. 

Kill?

What in the world was going on?

She waited for a quiet moment when no one was speaking to bring up her first question. “Excuse me… But may I learn your guys’ names? I’d like to address you properly when living here with you guys. 

At this point, the brothers in the room were tired of having to listen to the other telling them behave. 

In an instant, the two redheads were surrounding Bara on both of her sides. The longer haired one seemed to linger more over her. The one who wa more true to a redhead simple tried to pull her closer to him. 

“You only need to address me as Yours Truly. Nothing else,” the shorter haired one spoke as he yanked on Bara’s shoulder to pull her even closer. 

“Oh come on, Ayato. Tell her your real name,” the auburn spoke. 

Although he wasn’t any better as he continued to tangle his arms around Bara’s torso. One even began to attempt to slip between her legs, but Bara did her best to keep them pressed together.

“Laito is mine, Little Bitch,” he seemed to almost purr it into Bara’s ear. It was even enough for a chill to run through her, mainly from never having dealt with such interactions before.

Not expecting it, even from herself, Bara jumped forward out of the armrest she was sitting in and ran a few steps away from the two brothers. Her eyes darted to them at a moment to make sure they didn’t jump on her again.

“Do not get into my personal space like that!” Bara tried to keep her voice at a reasonable level, but it still came out somewhat squeaky due to her panic.

A sound of someone scoffing came from behind her. When Bara went to look, it was the white-haired male. While he didn’t say anything else, Bara had a good guess on his name from Laito calling it earlier. But she was quickly pulled from her thoughts as the blond on the couch made a comment.

“Don’t be noisy. It’s bothersome.” No other comment came from him. It seemed some of these brothers didn’t want to answer a simple question.

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t intend to be so loud.” Bara went to shift slightly, but found herself bumping into yet another person.

This time it was the shortest of them all. And while he was the smallest, he still gave off an intimidating energy, despite holding an innocent expression on his face. His wide eyes were studying Bara and his arms around his teddy bear seemed to grip the bear tighter. With no response coming from Bara’s still form, he neared closer with his face, being only a few centimeters from hers. His nostrils flared as he took in a few breaths.

“You smell sweet… almost like the flower you’re named after.” His voice was soft, despite the edge he was still putting Bara on.

It took her a moment to process it, but Bara soon registered his words. “Uh… thank.. you.”

“Hey, Kanato, you have to share with us~” Laito spoke from his area near the armrest, although Bara could sense he was about to move closer.

The seemingly innocent male in front of Bara seemed to have a switch flipped inside of him as his soft expression turned to one of frustration. She swore she could’ve seen a vein almost appear on his face from the aggression he immediately began to stew.

“Kanato…”

“Why should I share when you and Ayato were already all over her? Huh?!” He was loud enough to make Bara cover her ears. Never had she heard someone scream so loud, well, save a baby screaming for food or a nap when out and about with its mother or father.

“Inside voices… I shouldn’t have to remind you of this.” The male with glasses was very annoyed, not liking how his brothers acted.

Bara bit her lip as she debated speaking, but she had to at least know the name of the one who had been kindest to her. “Excuse me, but what is your name?” She kept her head in the direction of who seemed to be the eldest.

He looked back at her in the eyes. Despite his somewhat scary demeanor, he seemed to not mind sharing his name without some other intent behind it. “Reiji.”

Bara thanked him before going on to question her circumstances.

“Why am I here if it isn’t to simply have a new guardian?” The ‘kill’ comment was also bothering her, but she knew she had to pace her questions out.

“You’re our new plaything, isn't it obvious?” Laito commented as he tried to near Bara again, but she moved away and behind Kanato, trying to shield herself away from the pervert.

Little did she know a simple action like that did not go unnoticed by the purple-haired male. It didn’t show in his stature, but he would still stand his ground from his brother.

“You’re the next sacrifice to us. That man sent you here for one reason or another, either for enjoyment or for one of his ridiculous plans. In a few days time, you may find there’s one of us you’d rather stick to. I’d choose wisely by then.”

“And… The kill thing from earlier? You guys aren’t serial killers or something, are you?” If she was living with serial killers, she would truly be done for. Dread only began to fill her once again.

“We aren’t those, but can easily crush you with one fist.” It was the white-haired male who spoke up. 

Bara took note of how he gritted his teeth, seeing how his cuspids were a lot longer and sharper than the standard healthy cuspid tooth. She then began to see if anyone else would show their teeth to see if it was something they all had.

Although the thought was stopped immediately when she felt a steel grip on her arm yank her to the front of Kanato. A small yelp left her lips from the surprise yank and pinching of her flesh between Kanato’s fingers. The male pulled her close to him, this time with bodies closer as well. His breath ghosted over her neck as one hand went to pull away her scarf to expose the flesh.

Were they…?

“Your scent is too sweet. I want to taste it.” His words were quiet and almost missed by Bara.

“Huh?” She tried to pull away, but the boy wouldn’t let her. All the information and actions performed so far were only frightening her more. What didn’t help was that two of the brothers had left, mainly due to the annoyance of their siblings. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re merely a human, you’ll learn in time to watch yourself,” Reiji commented. 

“Kanato, Laito, Ayato, if any of you kill another, you will get by far, the worst punishment I can throw out yet.” That was his last comment before leaving the room.

While still gripped by Kanato, Bara zoned out into her own mind as the three remaining brothers began to argue over who would have her, mainly on how Kanato didn’t want to share and how Ayato wanted first dibs. 

She was human, they were something higher.

The smallest of them all had inhuman strength.

Another had sharp teeth.

They had to be demons.

No, vampires.

She was deceived. 

She wasn’t going to a positive and loving home.

Bara was sent to be a treat for some supernatural beings.

[izzielizzie]

Now I’ve Seen You I’ve Seen It All Chapter Two

This is a really long fic title, dang. Anyway, enjoy!!!

The next morning, the counselors are sitting drinking coffee in the Big Cabin before the children wake up and the morning rush sends them in a million and one directions. Addy’s texting someone, a grin on her face as her mug hovers between the table and her mouth.

“Are you talking to Keely?” Phoebe asks, peering over Addy’s shoulder.

“Yep, she’s got this major project designing a wedding dress for someone, and she’s pestering me about whether cream lace or white lace looks better, or something like that.”

Phoebe giggles, thinking of her own mother as she leans back against Knox. “Well, there was no lace on my dress and we survived.”

“Tell that to Keely.”

Addy, Phoebe, and Knox laugh. Farther down the table, Cooper and Kris are wrapped up in each other, discussing the weather. “If it rains, in the afternoon, I’ll have to cancel wiffle ball,” Cooper muses. Kris rolls his eyes affectionately. 

“What’s with you and wiffle ball?”

“Maeve won’t let me use real baseballs.”

“They’re dangerous!” Maeve protests from her spot in Luis’s arms.

Kris runs a hand through his curls and grins. “She’s got a point, babe. Look at what happened yesterday.”

“Kris that was a wiffle ball not a baseball so your point is invalid.”

“Imagine the kind of damage Ellen could have done if she had a baseball!”

“Kris please if Ellen wants to inflict damage she doesn’t need a baseball for that.”

“Speaking of, I wonder if Ellen and Ali are getting along,” Maeve says musingly as she rests her head on Luis’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they are,” Luis says.

Everyone at the table - minus the deranged couple - exchanges looks clearly indicating that they do not agree.

They would be correct.

“Ellen stop humming,” Ali grumbles from her bunk as Ellen stands in front of the mirror brushing her shoulder length hair.

Ellen hums a little louder.

“Ellen I mean it, stop humming.”

Ellen switches songs and hums louder.

“Ellen.”

“Hmmm.” Ellen’s stopped humming at this point and is now shouting random vowels as she continues methodically running a brush through her hair. 

“Ellen-I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Rojas stop this instant or else. You’re giving me a headache and you’re off pitch.”

“HMMM- hey!”

In a desperate attempt to get Ellen to shut up, Ali leaps off her bunk, landing on top of Ellen with a bang.

“Shut! Up!” Ali shouts from on top of Ellen, ignoring her bruised arm.

“My hair! My hair!” Ellen shouts.

Ali pauses. “Your hair? Your hair? Girl I just jumped on you and you’re worried about your hair?”

“My hair!” Ellen repeats.

Ali rolls off Ellen. “Are you seriously that worried about your- ah!”

Ellen uses the opening to roll over on top of Ali. “Stop being so mean and bossy all the ti- oh hey Aunt Phoebe!” Ellen says, dropping her hands from Ali’s shoulders, which she had been shaking with every word.

Ali and Ellen both stand up, sheepishly turning to Phoebe, who had just pushed the door open, a tray of food balanced expertly one one hand. 

“Hello girls, I brought breakfast since Maeve wants you two to stay here and think about your actions. Which I’m sure you’re doing.”

“Oh yeah,” Ali says.

“For sure,” Ellen agrees.

Phoebe raises her eyebrows, not fooled. “Well, I’ll just leave this here so you can keep thinking,” she says, placing the tray on a desk. Both girls nod and wave as Phoebe leaves. The moment the door closes they scramble for the food, pushing each other until they’ve both grabbed something. The cross to opposite sides of the cabin and sit, glaring at each other. They stay this way for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, pausing here and there to read books or throw thinly veiled insults at each other, but mostly they just sit in silence. Until the rain starts about an hour after Knox brings lunch.

“It’s raining,” Ellen says.

“Yeah I’m aware,” Ali responds. 

“It’s making the roof leak.”

Ali looks up to see a hole the size of a quarter in the roof, water slowly dripping onto the floor. “You’re worried about that? At home the roof was dripping so badly my dad had to redo the entire ceiling.”

Ellen tilts her head.

“My dad owns a construction company.”

“Oh. My mom’s a lawyer. We live in an apartment building.”

“Does your mom fix stuff?”

‘“We’re not allowed. And anyway, I don’t think she’d like to. She’s really neat and not… handson-y.”

“What about your dad?”

“I don’t have one.”

Ali nods once before turning back to her book, not sure how to proceed. If the girls realize they’ve just had a real conversation, they don’t acknowledge it. They stay silent until Ellen looks up to roll out her neck and realizes that the hole has become more like the size of her palm. 

“Ali! The hole!”

Ali looks up and jumps up in surprise. “We need to catch the water before it gets anywhere!” she cries as the water splashes down onto the wooden floor.”

“We need a bucket!”

Ali looks at Ellen like she’s grown three heads. “Right. Let me go get it from my car.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“And I don’t have a bucket either!”

Both girls scramble, frantically dancing around the water to find something suitable for catching the precipitation. 

“Your bag!” Ellen shouts, pointing to Ali’s oversized bag.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll work, we can line it with your leather jacket, it's waterproof right?”

Ali looks around frantically, trying to find a better alternative to her bag and jacket (which is waterproof). She doesn’t find one. “Okay! Fine!”

Both girls scramble to dump out the contents of the bag, and they line it with Ali’s jacket, pushing the bag under the water. They step back, catching their breath as the water starts to collect in the bag. Once she’s sure that the bag will hold the water, Ali turns to her things. She crouches and starts collecting everything, putting them on the bunk underneath hers. Ellen’s about to go back to her bed when she sees Ali picking up her things on her own. Feeling guilty for suggesting they use Ali’s only bag, Ellen climbs back down the ladder and starts picking up assorted things: a chapstick here, an earring there, until she sees an old tattered picture and freezes.

The picture is a normal picture: a girl in a green cap and gown, a grey dress peeking out underneath. She’s standing in front of a fireplace, a grin on her face as she holds up a diploma for the camera. But this isn’t just any old girl, it’s a girl Ellen recognizes. She knows the dark framed glasses and grey eyes and tan skin and brown curls. It’s her mother. Blood rushes to Ellen’s head. 

“Ali?” she asks quietly. Ali freezes, surprised by Ellen’s tone. 

“What?”

“Why do you have a picture of my mother?”

Ali turns, sees the picture in Ellen’s hand, and yanks it back. “Hey! Be careful with that, it's important.”

Ellen tries to take it back. “I mean it, Ali, why do you have a picture of my mother?”

Ali makes a face. “Your mother? That’s my mother, stupid.”

“No, that’s my mom.”

“Why would I have a picture of your mom?” Ali asks. 

“How am I supposed to know! Here, I’ll prove it.” Ellen fishes around her duffle bag for a moment until she pulls out a wallet. She opens it, and slides a Polaroid picture out from the slot where IDs are supposed to go. It’s of Ellen and Bronwyn, taken in their penthouse apartment the day before Ellen left for camp. Bronwyn had her arms around Ellen as they smiled at the camera that, at the time, was placed on the mantelpiece. Bronwyn was wearing a grey blazer and her hair was down, and it’s easy to see the resemblance between the Bronwyn in the Polaroid picture and the Bronwyn in Ali’s picture. Ellen hands Ali the picture. Ali stares at it for a moment, looking between the two pictures. When she finally turns away from them, Ellen can’t tell if she’s confused or about to cry.

“Why do I have a picture of your mom?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“But, does this mean I haven't been looking at my mom?” Ali’s actually crying now.

Ellen softens her tone. She can’t imagine finding a picture of her father and then learning it’s not her father. “I don’t know. Where did you find this?”

“In my dad’s office. I thought that person in the corner was him. I thought it was the only picture of my parents in the same room that I had.” Ali’s sobbing, and Ellen puts a hand on her arm. She doesn’t pull away. 

“Is that him? In the corner?” Ellen can just make out an arm in a leather jacket. Ali nods. Ellen thinks this isn’t a lot to go off of, parents wise, but Ellen can understand Ali’s desperation. She’s always wondered about her father, but her mother’s only said that she’s moved on and doesn’t want to talk about him. “I’m sorry Ali. Did your dad grow up in Bayview?”

“Yeah,” Ali sniffs.

“My mom too. She hasn’t been back since I was born. That was twelve years ago. Thirteen in October,” Ellen adds. Ali’s head shoots up.

“October?”

“Yeah, October thirty first. I’ve always loved that I was born on -”

“Halloween. Ellen, I was born on Halloween. I’m twelve almost thirteen.”

Ellen looks at Ali. “That’s a funny coincidence.”

Ali grabs for Ellen’s shoulders. “What if it’s not? What if we were born on the same day? What if your mom is my mom? I mean we look alike right? Everyone says so. We only disagreed because we didn’t like each other.” Ellen notices the past tense. Maybe Ali doesn’t hate her anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I mean, we both have black hair. We both have freckles. Our skin is the same shade of not-pale-but-not-tan-either. And our eyes are… wait are they blue or grey?”

“I’ve always called them ‘grue’,” Ellen admits.

“Me too!”

“Wait, Ali, are you saying we’re sisters?”

“Ellen, you doofus, we’re twins.”

It takes a moment for this to sink in, but all of a sudden, Ellen’s crying in a way that she hasn’t in a long time. She’s hugging Ali, rocking back and forth and sobbing into her shoulder. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” they keep saying over and over in unison, almost like they’re identical twins that have had their entire lives to do things like say the same thing at the same time. When they pull away, Ellen asks: “Does this mean your dad is my dad?”

“Yeah! I think it does!”

“Oh my gosh, what’s he like?” Ellen asks.

“He’s great! He’s funny and really nice and we watch movies together and he takes me to work and he built me a treehouse.”

“Oh. My. God. That’s so cool.”

“What about Mom?”

“She’s a lawyer. She’s super cool and she has the greatest fashion sense and she drives the coolest car. Oh my gosh, Ali, this means that Aunt Maeve is your aunt too!”

Ali starts crying again at this realization. She truly does adore Maeve.

“Do you think she knows?”

“I don’t know. Ali, we should ask!”

“Yes! Let’s go!”

Both girls sprint out of the door, hand in hand, glancing at each other every few moments, reveling in the feeling of finding family, their past animosity long forgotten.

[honeytae]

Are you trying to seduce me?

this is reader’s first time having sex with hoseok, hopefully you enjoy just some fluffy sexy time with our sunshine boy (insert heart eyes here)

tags: @mochiloverbts

genre: smut (lots of fluff but there is sex so)

warnings: smut (oral sex and sex)

word count: 4.7k (omg i got carried away i’m sorry)

You had officially known Hoseok for two months. 

It had been two months since the day you spotted him in the park with an adorable shih tzu waddling beside him. His golden skin was glowing underneath the sunshine, captivating you as he paused to let the dog sniff a patch of grass. 

You’d carefully walked up to the fluffy brown haired man, slightly taken aback at his stunning features before you politely asked if you could pet the puppy. He’d smiled warmly at you, assuring you that it was fine and informing you that the dog was named Mickey.

You’d continued to have a nice conversation with him, formally introducing yourselves and getting to know each other. You knew who he was, yet Hoseok was surprised at you treating him like such a human. You didn’t put him on a pedestal; you just talked to him as if he was a normal person with a normal life walking his dog in a park. He loved it.

He’d given you his number that day, the next few weeks allowing you to hang out with him and finally confirm the feelings you felt about each other.

Now you were in a pattern of going to each other's homes after work, quickly growing comfortable in each other's presence and alternating cooking for each other. In Hoseok’s words, he was “never one to eat alone” and “the members are too messy.” It was purely an excuse to get to come and be with you after his long days at work, and spoon each other to sleep after you ate.

And that was exactly the plan tonight, you having been home for almost an hour and standing in front of the stove. Your hand clutched the handle of the pot atop the burner, stirring a wooden spoon around the pot with the opposite one as you hummed lightly.

You didn’t even hear the sound of your front door clicking shut, or the tutting of Hoseok’s tongue as he shook his head at it being left unlocked again. You didn’t hear the sound of his bag dropping to the floor, or his feet shuffling to the kitchen to find you.

The only indication of his presence was the feeling of his arms going around your waist in a backwards hug, startling you as you jumped in reaction to the sudden touch. There was a warm chuckle in your ear, one that you recognized immediately to be your bubbly boyfriend.

“Shit, Hobi, you came out of nowhere.” You exclaimed, placing your hand over your chest to hold your heart.

His chin came to rest on your shoulder, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek, chuckling out a soft “I’m sorry, angel.”

Your hand lost its grip on the spoon, dropping it somewhere on the stovetop with a clang as you turned in his grip to face him. You looped your arms around his neck, Hoseok tipping his head to accommodate the gentle meeting of your lips.

“Hi, sunshine.” You greeted him, mumbling against his lips as he pressed another peck to yours.

“Hi, my love.” He responded, hand caressing your hip as he gazed back at you.

You brought your hands up to the fluffy hair tousled at the top of his head, admiring his sparkling crescent eyes looking back at you as his lips curved into a smile at your touch.

“How was work, baby?” You asked, watching as his shoulders heaved in a sigh.

“It was okay.” He said hesitantly, watching as your eyes scanned his features and raised your eyebrows at his less than happy tone. It was a silent prompt for more information, your fingers digging into the top of his spine in a soft massaging motion. The action made him sigh, his tense muscles relaxing under your touch as he opened up.

“Just- I don’t know. The new choreography is difficult. There’s a lot of pressure on my position in this one.” He said, voice defeated as he smiled at you sadly.

“You’ll get it. I know you will. You’re the most talented person I know.” You affirmed, Hoseok leaning down to press a peck to your forehead.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” 

You nodded in response, stroking his hair back behind his ear as he leaned down to connect your lips again. This kiss was slower, longer. Through it, Hoseok communicated all the love and appreciation he had for you being in his life.

You pulled away at the memory of the pot of food behind you, reluctantly turning from him to lean against the oven and stir it more. His eyes lit up at the sight, widening in excitement as he saw what you were making.

“Kimchi fried rice?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. And god, it looked amazing.

“Mhm,” You nodded in response, giggling as he pulled you into him again, sprinkling kisses all over your face.

“Alright, alright, go take a shower while I finish it up. We’ll eat when you get out, okay?” 

He nodded, pressing one more kiss to your lips with a “Thank you, baby.”

Hoseok was quick in the shower, wanting to be reunited with you as quickly as possible. You practically drooled over the man coming out of your bathroom, a spot down the hallway you could clearly see out the kitchen doorway from your place standing at the oven. You’d already lowered the heat of the burner to a simmer, the dish ready to be eaten as you attempted to keep it warm. 

But now, the food was the last thing on your mind as the vision of your boyfriend’s toned body occupied the thoughts in your brain instead.

You and Hoseok were not sexually active; the most intimate thing you’d done was get into heated makeout sessions before you got interrupted, either by one of the members, or a phone call that Hoseok was needed immediately at the dance studio, or he was simply too exhausted to even stand as he went to lay on your couch after greeting you on his way in from another twelve hour day of practicing choreographies.

Not to say that it wasn’t tempting for both of you. It was very tempting. Increasingly so.

The way Hoseok looked after his shower made you have to take a deep breath to try to compose yourself, his toned chest on display as water dripped down his abdomen. His thighs were drowning in his red shorts, his happy trail teasing you as it disappeared below the waistband. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, veiny hands gripping the damp towel in his hands as he rustled through his bag for the spare shirt he’d brought.

And that was when he looked back at you, sensing your eyes on him and achieving eye contact as you blushed. You’d been caught, totally checking him out, and there was no denying it.

“See something you like, angel?” He teased, thoroughly enjoying the red blush that heated your cheeks.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” You teased back, Hoseok smirking in response as he took quick strides to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he got closer, thunping harder when his hand attached to your waist to pull you closer to him as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Depends. Is it working?” He asked, chuckling when all you do is push your tongue against your cheek in embarrassment.

He leaned down to press his lips to yours, kissing you slowly like before, but with fervor. This one was different. This one was lustful.

You moaned as he deepened the kiss, leaning farther into him as you retaliated by pushing your lips back harder against his. Opening your mouths against each other, his tongue pushed against yours, his sweet taste invading your senses and making your head spin. 

You pushed your body into him, Hoseok groaning as the action made you grind against his crotch. He pulled back from the heated kiss, looking at you with an almost pained expression on his face from trying to hold himself back.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with where you were going. If you weren’t comfortable going that far with him yet, it was fine with him. All that mattered to him was your comfort and happiness.

You smiled at the kind consideration that your boyfriend always managed to have with you, no matter what the situation was or how he was feeling in the moment. He pushed everything aside for your emotions, one of the many things about the man that made your heart swell.

“I want you, Hobi.” You responded easily, Hoseok blushing as he chuckled, nodding as he said “I want you, too.”

“Then take me.” You challenged him, raising an eyebrow at him as he smirked at your words.

Your cockiness was cut off with a surprised squeal as he lifted you into his arms, arms latched under your butt for support as yours automatically went around his neck.

As he turned to direct you both to the bedroom, you said a sudden “Wait!” making Hoseok pause just as he was walking into the hallway. 

“The food, baby. It’s still on the burner.” You informed him, making his mouth pop open in an ‘o’ shape in realization. He walked backwards carefully, retracing his steps before leaning over to the stove top, turning the burner off and placing the pot on a cool one for extra precaution.

“That would’ve been an interesting story to tell the firefighters, huh?” He chuckled as you nodded in agreement.

He guided your bodies through the apartment to your bedroom, attached to the lips as your tongues battled against each other. You traded hot breaths past each others swollen lips, carding your fingers through the hair on the sides of his head to ground yourself.

“Wait, wait.” He pulled back from the kiss, leaning back suddenly as you looked back at him in concern.

“I didn’t bring condoms.” He blushed, a guilty expression on his face as he made the confession. His brows raised in confusion as you chuckled.

“Baby, there’s a box in the drawer.” You looked over to the nightstand beside your bed, Hoseok sighing in relief before mumbling an “I love you” against your lips.

“I love you so much, Hobi.” You whispered back, pressing a series of pecks to his plump bottom lip before he smashed his mouth messily onto yours.

He gently laid you down on the mattress, lips still attached to yours as he followed you on his hands and knees crawling atop your body. 

He trailed kisses across your jaw, heart fluttering as he heard your soft sighs in reaction to the soft suckling he began applying to the area. Traveling down your neck, he left light pink blooms across the skin, smiling to himself as you angled your chin up in a subtle ask for more.

His mouth continued to leave marks on you as his hands trailed over your body, taking the hint as you leaned into his touch. 

He pulled his head away from its place hovering over your neck, fingers creeping under the hem of your t-shirt as he looked at your face for approval before moving it up. At your eager nod, he lifted the shirt, bringing it up over your head and tossing it to the side.

His eyes widened as your breasts were revealed to him, adorned in a black lace push up bra that left little to the imagination. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised in amusement with a slight smile on your face at his obviously flustered state.

“Jesus, fuck.” He said in astonishment, making you giggle as you observed him looking at you with a new lustful look in his eyes.

He smiled at your giggle, leaning up to kiss your lips again.

“As beautiful as this is,” he trailed off, slipping his finger underneath the strap of your bra and gripping it between his thumb and pointer finger, “can I take it off?” He asked, eyes still lustful but also genuine, not wanting to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

When you nodded, responding to his question with an “Of course, baby,” his arms wrapped around your back, his fingers finding the clasp as you arched your spine off the bed and into his body to make it easier for him.

The bra loosened around your chest, straps falling down your arms as Hoseok lightly pulled on them to get rid of the garment.

“You’re stunning.” He said in awe, making you blush as his eyes stared at your bare breasts. 

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly, smiling at the fond expression on his face as he continued admiring your half nude form underneath him.

“Hobi, please.” You begged, Hoseok smirking lightly as he decided to give you what you wanted.

Before you could say another word, he leaned down to your chest, lips attaching to the hardened peak of your nipple as he closed his eyes in concentration. His other hand came up to your other breast, massaging the tissue in his hand before squeezing experimentally. 

He felt the hot rush of blood to his lower region as you let out a whimper, the stimulation from his lips and hands making you grip onto the hair at the back of his head.

“Baby.” You whined, desperately pulling on his hair to let him know that you wanted more.

Releasing your nipple from his mouth, he lifted his head from your chest, sliding his hands down the soft skin of your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. He pulled the waistband down your legs, discarding them somewhere behind him before his hands gripped onto your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands lovingly.

“You’re gorgeous, baby.” He looked back up at you as the praise left his mouth, lips curving up into a smile as he noticed the slight blush tinting your cheeks at his words.

When you shook your head no to dismiss his compliment, he leaned down to your legs, pressing soft kisses to the skin of your inner thigh. Your breaths shuddered out of your mouth as his lips ghosted over the area so near where you wanted him most, Hoseok chuckling at the visible reaction you showed.

“You are. You’re beautiful. Stunning. Amazing. Inside and out. And I will never stop reminding you of that.” He said seriously, eyes holding contact with yours as he said the affirmations firmly.

You smiled above him, propping yourself up with your elbows as you dug them into the mattress below you. 

“I love you.” you said simply, bringing your hand up to rub your thumb against the corner of his lip lovingly. 

“I love you more.” He squeezed your thighs in affirmation, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the skin on the inside of the muscle.

He smiled back at you before dipping his head back down to the area between your legs, your thin black panties being the only thing that separated him from your most intimate area. Again, Hoseok looked back up to your face, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to remove the barrier.

“Do your worst.” You said, Hoseok throwing his head back in laughter before nodding.

“Yes ma’am.” He said sassily, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your underwear and sliding them down your thighs.

“Wow. So beautiful.” He said to himself, filling his cheeks with air as he tried to compose himself at your fully nude form under him. Puffing a big breath out, he brought his hands back up to grip your thighs, scooting his body further down the bed as you spread your legs further to make it easier for him.

He leaned forward to press his lips to your clit, kissing gently as his eyes focused on your face for your reaction. He chuckled against you as you writhed, whining at the sweet vibrations sent through you at his breath fanning against the aroused area.

And then it started.

Hoseok was obviously gifted with his tongue, licking a broad stripe up from your entrance to your clit, pointing it to circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves before bringing his fingers up to ease into your entrance, pumping his slender fingers in and out of you slowly at first before picking up the pace.

His other hand held your hip bone, pinning you to the mattress in an attempt to keep your hips from bucking against his face like they were so desperately trying to do. 

Fueled by your moans as you looked down at him, he began moving his fingers in a scissor like motion inside of you, brushing against your inner walls and making your eyes roll back into your head at the sensitive spots he was hitting inside of you. Hoseok took note of your reaction, moaning against you as he began feverishly sucking on your clit.

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, gasping as your elbows collapsed underneath you at his actions. Your head fell back against the pillow, the knot in your stomach increasing in its pressure and you knew you had to stop him or it’d be over all too soon.

“Baby, baby, ah,” you called for his attention, digging your fingers into his hair and pulling, Hoseok detaching his lips from you to glance up to you, panting and desperately trying to get a grip on yourself. 

“Come here.” You said breathlessly, Hoseok's palms meeting the mattress again as he climbed up your frame so his face was hovering above yours.

“Are you trying to destroy me or something?” You panted, desperately trying to catch your breath from how flustered your boyfriend had made you.

Hoseok chuckled in response, dipping down to kiss your cupid’s bow before pulling back to mumble against your lips.

“You said to do my worst.” He said sassily, making you giggle as you pulled his face down to yours again.

As your tongues massaged against each other, your palms slid down to his slim hips, fingers slipping underneath the waistbands of both his shorts and his boxers. Your hand followed along the hair of his happy trail, Hoseok gasping softly against your lips as your fingers gripped his throbbing length. 

You began stroking him, eyes glued to the man above you and his reactions to your fist moving up and down his erection, hips bucking into your hand as he groaned lowly. You twisted your hand around him, traveling up to his tip to swipe his precum off with your thumb.

“Sh-shit baby, fuck, oh my god.” He panted, closing his eyes as your thumb began circling the sensitive area.

You giggled at his rambling, making him smile as he cupped your jaw to bring your lips together again. Your hand halted its movements on him, focusing on the way Hoseok’s tongue pushed its way into your mouth and the soft but dominant movements of his tongue against yours.

“I want you.” You whined desperately, Hoseok nodding in response as he placed his hand on your arm dug into his shorts, reluctantly removing it as he pulled his shorts down.

His boxer briefs hugged him tightly, the plush cheeks of his ass making you unable to resist the need to cup the flesh in your palm. He gasped in surprise at the sudden action of your fingers digging into the supple cheeks of his backend, giggling as he shook his head at you.

“You’re so weird.” He mumbled, not being able to contain the smile on his face as he moved to lean over to the nightstand, tugging on the drawer and retrieving one of the square packets of condoms between his fingers.

“You love me.” You said in a sing-songy voice, Hoseok giggling as he nodded.

“You got me there.” He said, tearing the package open and rolling the condom onto himself. Kneeling on the bed, he lowered himself to place his elbows on either side of your body, caging your frame as soon as the barrier was snugly on him.

He kissed your lips lightly, looking at you with a caring expression as he confirmed with you before lining himself up with your entrance.

“You ready, love?” He asked softly, stroking your hair back from your face, a light sheen of sweat still shining on your skin from your earlier activities.

“I’m ready. Are you ready?” You asked teasingly, Hoseok’s giggle making your heart flutter as your chests shook against each other.

He slowly allowed himself to sink into you, fueled by your soft breathy moans in his ear as he buried his head in your neck, sucking on the skin below your ear as he bottomed out. He picked his head up, leaning down to meet your lips halfway as he stilled his hips movements. 

“Fuck, you feel so amazing.” He praised you, intently watching your face to gauge your reactions to his movements.

His hand came up to cup your jaw, your lips moving together as he began to rock his hips into yours, hitting a deep spot inside of you forcing a whine to escape your throat, Hoseok basking in the noise you made with pride at the way he was making you feel.

You put your hands on his shoulders, shoving roughly which made him furrow his eyebrows in concern. 

Before he could ask what was wrong, you picked yourself up the mattress, flipping him over so he was laying on his back staring up at you in amusement.

The expression on his face quickly changed when you lined your entrance up with the angry red head of him, taking him in slowly until your pelvic bones were touching. His hands went to your hips, squeezing as you began to swivel your hips in figure eights, moaning loudly as the new technique allowed him to hit places inside of you he hadn’t been able to before.

Hoseok trailed his hands up from your hips to your swinging breasts, making you let out a broken gasp as he twisted your nipple between his fingers, holding you solidly in your place as he scooted himself up so that his back was against the headboard.

His new sitting position allowed him to attach his mouth to your nipples easily, trading attention from one to the other with soft suckles that made you whine and writhe against him.

Deep groans erupted from his chest when you picked up your pace, bouncing on him as you let out high pitched whines.

He lifted his head from your chest to your face, kissing you passionately as he began to buck his hips up into you. His hips thrust into you, reaching all the sweet spots inside of you as he grazed against your inner walls.

“Oh my god, Hobi,” You whimpered with each thrust, falling onto his chest prompting Hoseok to stretch his neck down to press a kiss to the hair on the back of your head, the sweet action contradicting the harsh snapping of his hips thrusting into yours.

He let out soft moans when he felt your lips sucking on the skin of his chest, marking him with dark purple bruises as he continued to lift himself off the mattress to hit the deep sweet spots inside of you.

He growled when you began grinding your hips down onto his pubic bone, sucking in air between his clenched teeth and tossing his head back against the headboard.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” He groaned, his words making you lift your head to look at him to catch his facial expression. 

His hair was stuck to his forehead, strewn messily across the skin glistening with sweat. He let out harsh pants, mouth open and teeth clenched together as his eyes squeezed together in ecstasy.

You could only nod, leaning your forehead down onto his to attach your mouths. Your tongues swept against each other, swallowing each others moans as you both approached your climax. You could feel the ball in the pit of your stomach unraveling, Hoseok grunting into your mouth as he felt your muscles tightly clenching around him. 

“Fuck, I love you, baby.” He moaned, stroking the fallen hair around your face back behind your ear.

“I love you, Hobi, so much.” You said breathlessly, breathing getting more labored as you began to see stars at Hoseok’s actions underneath you.

He reached between your bodies, fingers circling your clit as he increased the pace of his thrusts, hitting his high with a loud moan as he watched your mouth open in a pleasured gasp, eyes pinched shut as you came around him.

Hoseok helped you ride out your orgasm, fingers still softly stroking the area between your legs before he retreated his hand when you whimpered at the sensitivity.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pressing your chest to his as you laid down on him. You buried your face into his neck, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulder. He held you to him, his palms rubbing up and down your spine in soothing circles. 

“Let me go get something to clean us up.” He suggested softly, feeling you nod against his chest, carefully lifting your body off of his and rolling not so gracefully onto the space of the mattress next to him.

You turned your head to him when you felt the bed shift, watching as he pushed himself off the bed with his palms and walked out of the room. You heard the light padding of his footsteps in the hall, the quiet clang of the trash bin in the corner of your bathroom, then the sound of running water. 

Your boyfriend walked back into the room shortly after he’d left, hand balancing the wet washcloth he’d gotten as he crawled onto the bed on his knees and his other hand toward your tired body laying on the sheets. 

His palms went to your knees, spreading them gently as he brought the warm washcloth to wipe at the mess in between your legs. His movements were soft, treating you as if you were a fragile piece of porcelain. Your heart swooned at the man who always put you first, always took care of you, and always made you feel loved and adored.

When he was done cleaning the mess you’d both made, he briefly left the room, tossing the cloth in the hamper of dirty laundry and speedily making his way back to you. He reclined back against the bed, tucking his chin on the top of your head as you wrapped your arms around him, naked bodies clinging to each other.

One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, holding you to him lightly, and the other was rubbing up and down your spine soothingly. You almost felt like you were ready for sleep. A peaceful silence settled in the room, light touches being exchanged between the two of you before a low grumble filled the air. 

You both chuckled at the sound coming from Hoseok’s stomach, Hoseok’s giggling increasing when your hand traveled down to his stomach to tickle the skin. 

“Come on, let’s go eat. If you were hungry before, I can’t even imagine how starved you are now.” You said, nodding at him to come with you to the kitchen as you sat up from his embrace.

“Oh my god, there’s kimchi fried rice out there!” He exclaimed, seemingly having forgotten about the dish you’d made earlier.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “but it’s definitely ice cold by now.” You added, pouting before Hoseok’s fingers came up to the edges of your mouth, pushing them up to make your frown into a slight smile.

“Worth it.” He shrugged, making your cheeks tint pink as you shook your head, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You asked teasingly, Hoseok smiling as he intertwined his fingers with yours still resting on the mattress.

“You love me.” He said in the same sing-song tone that you had earlier in the evening, making you let out a loud laugh before composing yourself.

“I do,” you sighed, “I really do.”