#THE PERSON WHO SAID ‘’PERSONALLY? FUCK THAT CUP OF COFFEE?’’ YOU ARE SO FUNNY AND FOR WHAT

[shepscapades]

SHEP

DRAW MORE SLEEPY XISUMA

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

(no pressure of <3)

ANYTHING FOR YOU ANONYMOUS

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

[leafbowl]

Sometimes, Tim got so exhausted that he forgot where he was. Then there were the times when he got so exhausted that he forgot when he was. This was something all of the bats were aware of and they tried to accommodate him, reminding him of the correct date.

When Harley Quinn joined the bats, sometimes Tim slipped up in the most horrible way.

"HIYA BATS!" Harley yelled as she appeared out of nowhere in the Batcave. She grinned, hands behind her back as she rocked slightly. Bruce gave her an unamused look. She over-exaggerated a pout. "You're borin', B-man." She turned to the gaggle of birds mulling about. She smiled big at them all. "Hi Birdies!"

There was a chorus of hellos, some of them half-hearted and distractedly. Tim, who was on his eighteenth cup of coffee (he had started over his limit with each person, only ever drinking a cup in front of certain people (his limit was two)), looked at her, furrowed his eyebrows and then made a face like he was arguing with himself. It confused Harley but she didn't mention it. This was normal for the bats, Timmy especially.

Shaking off his thoughts, Tim smiled softly at Harley. "Hey, Mom." He then turned and went back to his work. Harley froze. Bruce froze. Dick paled, starting to shake. The three of them all stared at Tim, Harley with her mouth open in shock. She wasn't disturbed by it, being Timmy's mother was actually one of the good memories she had with Joker. Of course, the circumstances weren't good but Timmy was a good kid.

"Hi," Harley said carefully. "You feelin' okay, sweetheart?" She thought the endearment might make this easier. It didn't. Dick looked like he was going to be sick. He kept glancing between Harley and Tim. Bruce couldn't look away from the now confused boy.

"Mhm," Tim hummed. He took a sip of his coffee and when his eyes settled on Harley again, he tilted his head rather adorably. "Why do you ask?"

"You..." Harley laughed nervously. "You called me Mom."

Timmy's eyebrows drew together. "Okay... I won't call you Mom anymore but... you are my mom." He seemed very confused but he didn't seem upset or traumatised by the fact he had slipped. He also didn't seem to be like JJ in any other way.

So, Harley nodded slowly. "Okay, Pun'kin," she said, smiling again. "Continue with ya work. Ya doin' a good job."

Tim smiled at the praise and nodded, continuing on his case work. Harley turned to Batman. He looked out of it. Harley looked at Nightwing. Dick looked... like he wanted to punch something. Harley ignored them both and went to get what she'd come for: Alfred's cookies. He had baked her favourite because she hadn't killed anyone in three weeks. Three weeks! It was exciting.

Later, after Tim had slept for sixteen hours straight and was finally aware of where he was, Duke pulled him to the side and sat him down, Steph and Cass sitting on the couch in front of him. Tim narrowed his eyes at them, knowing they were up to something. But Duke looked almost... nervous. He sat down on the couch in between Steph and Cass. "What's up guys?" Tim asked warily.

"We wanted to invite you into our club," Duke said slowly. His shoulders sagged. "We have a bit of a 'our parents aren't dead but they're absent' club. Mine are just..." Duke looked off to the side, eyes glazing over as they usually did when he thought of his parents. "Broken. We'll fix them." Cass set a hand on his arm and he snapped out of it. He turned to her and smiled his thanks. Then he turned to Tim who was fucking confused.

"What are you going on about?" Tim asked. "Both of my parents-"

"We're talking bio parents," Steph put it. She slumped back against the couch. "Also, I'm mad at you that you didn't tell me you had a bio mom."

Tim only got more confused. What were they talking about?

"We heard you call Harley 'Mom' the other day," Duke said. He gave a bit of a smile but Tim couldn't find anything funny with that statement. When the fuck had he called Harley his mother? He hadn't done that in years. It was a hard fix when he first got back but he hadn't slipped up in a long time.

"Still love you," Cass promised, reaching over to take one of Tim's hands. She smiled warmly. "Even if Quinn is mother."

Tim just stared at her. He... He didn't know what to say. Even if he told them that Harley wasn't actually his mum, they wouldn't believe him unless he told them why he had called Harley 'Mom' in the first place- and he really didn't want to do that. So he didn't. He just nodded and sagged against the armchair he was sitting in. He could vaguely recall him saying something about it being good to get his secret out.

After that, Tim started going to the club meetings (it was mostly just fucking around on an inflatable course) with Steph, Duke and Cass. He figured that they wouldn't talk about it with anyone if he asked so there was really no harm in correcting them. Besides, Harley had been his mother at one point. And she wasn't a bad mum, she was just... Harley Quinn. She didn't treat Tim any different compared to his siblings other than the fact she held a certain fondness for him that he reciprocated.

Nothing could go wrong.

Something went wrong. He got so used to thinking of Harley as his mum that he started calling her that without thinking about it. At first it was just to her, which she brushed off as him making some kind of joke or it being a way to deal with his trauma, and then it was to other people.

"What did you do today, babybird?" Dick asked as he, Jason and Tim were sitting on a roof. Jason was trying to get Nightwing and Red Robin out of his territory but the two vigilantes didn't care.

Tim shrugged, swiftly side-stepping Jason's attempt as pushing him off the roof. "The usual, I guess. Oh! I saw Mom today. She wasn't doing anything so I went up to her as Tim and-"

"Wait, what?" Dick's eyebrows knitted together and Jason paused his rough-housing with his brother to stare at Tim. "Your... Mom?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, my mom." He gave them both weird looks. And then he realised what he had done. He looked off and heard laughter echo around his mind. He ignored Junior and smiled at his brothers. "You know, Selina Kyle?"

Dick relaxed. Tim could physically see the tension seep from his body. Jason didn't look as placable. "Why're you callin' her mom?"

Tim shrugged. "She is kind of like our mom."

Tim could tell Jason narrowed his eyes at him even through the helmet. "Not really," he said, voice gruff through his voice changer. "And isn't Selina in Mexico?"

Tim froze. Dick looked between his brothers. "Tim..." He frowned. "Who were you talking about?"

Tim looked away from Dick. He needed to leave. He could feel something gnawing at the back of his throat. A laugh. Him. Tim let out a sharp breath that was close enough to a laugh to subdue the itch. "Doesn't matter," he said. He pulled out his grapple but Dick caught his wrist.

"Tim," Dick said firmly.

Tim glared at him and snatched his wrist back. "Don't touch me."

Dick reared back like Tim had slapped him. Tim gave a small gasp and covered his mouth. He hadn't meant to get angry, he hadn't meant to hiss at Dick. It wasn't his fault. He was just worried about Tim.

"Tim," Jason said carefully. "Tell him."

Tim stared at him. "No," he said. He didn't know how Jason knew but he wasn't surprised.

"He could help," Jason tried but he sounded... wrong. There was something uncomfortable about his posture. Another laugh crawled up Tim's throat and he wasn't ready for it so soon. It bubbled out of him and Dick paled. He went grey, his hands beginning to tremble.

Tim managed to quell the urge and stopped his laughter. He cleared his throat, turned, and fell off the side of the building, deciding running was the better option. Safer. It was best that Dick didn't know Junior was still in Tim's head, still lurking around. He was caged, his hands bound and his mouth gagged. Still, sometimes JJ got out of his binds. Sometimes he had enough influence over Tim that he snuck in a laugh or two, sometimes he pushed out the words Mom and Dad. He hadn't called Joker 'Dad' since it first happened. He wasn't ever going to do it again. He couldn't.

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: Oliver Aiku isn’t sure which entity he’s wronged to earn this kind of treatment, but somehow, in the days before the match against Blue Lock, he’s stuck watching over the team’s newest addition: Sae Itoshi, a rude midfielder who’d rather be in Spain (or in hell) than hanging out with him. Things get a little more complicated, though, when a cup of shitty coffee leads to a crush and Aiku is forced to intervene.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, sae my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader has to work in customer service 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, sae is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), sae slander (from aiku), reader is a fan girl but she keeps it 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙, reader’s dad has cameos but he’s just chilling tbh

A/N: the people wanted sae’s version to be posted first so uhhh here we are!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long (as usual) but it’s very silly and goofy!! anyways so this is the first entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Oliver Aiku likes to think he’s a fairly nice guy. He visits his grandmother every weekend, he rescues kittens from gutters (okay, it only happened once, but he still did it, so it counts), and he’s good enough at being captain of the Japanese U-20s that none of his teammates really hate him, so all in all, he can’t be doing that bad of a job. Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s a great person, a stand-up fellow, an upstanding member of society — so why the fuck is Sae Itoshi glaring at him like that?

“What?” he says, because it was fine for the first, say, twenty minutes or so, but now it’s gone from annoying to just plain concerning. “Something going on with you?”

Sae stares at him for a moment longer, and Aiku wonders if he’s trying to communicate via telepathy. That’s a skill he’s never picked up, though, so he can only wait for Sae to speak up, which, thankfully, he eventually does.

“This coffee is shit,” he says. The way he speaks is dull and blank, his lips pinched together and his brows low over his eyes. It’s kind of a shame, in Aiku’s highly professional opinion. He’d be handsome if he smiled more; or, if not handsome, at least approachable enough to not scare away every single girl that dared to even glance at him.

“It’s not my fault,” Aiku says. “Take it up with the barista or something.”

“You’re the one who brought me here, so it is your fault,” Sae says. Aiku crosses his arms, because isn’t Sae younger than him? This feels like a level of disrespect he shouldn’t tolerate, prodigy or not.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. In hindsight, it’s not the most mature response he could’ve come up with, and Sae seems to agree, snorting derisively before using a napkin to dab at a drip of coffee running down the side of his cup.

“What a captain,” he says with a sigh. “No wonder you guys need me to play for you against those Blue Lock idiots.”

Aiku should be offended, he really should be — and he is! He is, and he’s just about to muster up some scathing retort that’ll definitely leave Sae Itoshi trembling, but then Sae’s standing up with purpose, so now he’s just intrigued instead of insulted. He follows after him as Sae holds the coffee in one hand and marches towards the counter, and when he realizes what’s about to happen, he preemptively cringes.

“Don’t yell at service workers!” Aiku says. It would’ve been heroic if he had said it loud enough for Sae to hear him, but unfortunately, it’s more of a whisper than the brave shout he had intended for it to be, so he just looks kind of stupid, as if he regularly talks to himself or something.

“Hey,” Sae says to the boy at the counter. He’s young, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, and Aiku prays that he’s not the target of Sae’s ire. “Who made this?”

The boy squints at Sae’s cup, reading the receipt, and then he smiles innocently. “That was Y/N. Did you want to talk to her?”

“Yes,” Sae says bluntly. Aiku is about to thank whichever deity was watching over him and that boy alike, but he pauses when the rest of the kid’s statement registers. Her? Her? Is Sae seriously about to yell at a girl for making bad coffee? If she’s hot, he’ll kill Sae, no doubt about it. “And tell her to make it quick. We don’t have all day, and she’s already wasted enough of our time.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to kill him. 

“Y/N,” a voice whispers. You’re untying your apron — your shift is just about over, and you’re ready to clock out, but for some reason your young coworker is peering into the kitchen nervously and gesturing for you to come with him. Normally, you’d tell him to handle things himself, but he’s new, so you decide to be responsible for once and follow after him, muttering curses to yourself as you retie your apron.

“What’s the matter? Did you spill something?” you say. He shakes his head, raising his hand and pointing at the counter, where two customers are waiting. You frown, because you’re pretty sure you already gave them their drinks, so there’s no reason for them to be standing there, unless maybe they want to reorder. “Wait. Did you call me to take their order? No way! My shift is over in thirty seconds!”

“No, no, I didn’t,” your coworker says. “They want to talk to you.”

“Me? Like me, specifically?” you say. He nods.

“Yeah, they asked for you by name and everything,” he says earnestly. “I think they’re mad, though.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, because the last thing you want to do is deal with a couple of prissy customers, especially not when you’re supposed to be heading home already. However, your coworker seems to be on the verge of tears, and some kind of sisterly affection tugs at your heartstrings, so you pat him on the shoulder and take his spot at the counter.

“Hi, this is Y/N. My coworker told me you needed to see me. How can I help you?” you say. Your voice is chipper and your smile is false, but they don’t need to know that. You’ve been working at the coffee shop for long enough that you’re practiced at pretending, and you know for a fact that your coworker is standing shyly at your side, probably astonished by the quality of your performance.

For a moment, neither man speaks, so you get to stare at them and make your own assumptions about who they are and what their backstories might be. It’s kind of like a hobby, a pastime for when things are slow or you’re generally annoyed about your job. You’ve developed it over the years, and luckily, these two are prime candidates for the game.

The one on the left is tall and broad, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Curiously, one is a bright green, while the other is a softer violet, and there’s a few-days-old stubble growing on his square face, like a shadow running along his jaw. It gives him a rough appearance, like he owns a motorcycle and frequently wears leather jackets, but you want to believe that he’s gentle at heart. Maybe he has a fondness for baby animals or he likes to bake cookies or something along those lines.

The one on the right is shorter than his counterpart, and his hair is red like a sunset, pushed carelessly out of his haughty face. He’s wearing a sweater that matches his eyes, though the teal of the knitted fabric is much more muted, and you’re about to come up with some kind of fantastical explanation for who he might be when you realize that you know him.

He clears his throat, and you scramble to stand up straighter, internally screaming, because what are the odds that you’ve somehow managed to piss off the star player of your favorite soccer club’s youth team? You wonder what your father will think of you now. You wonder what you think of yourself now. What should you do? Should you tell him you recognize him? Ask for an autograph? Or should you play it cool and pretend like you don’t know him? What if he yells at you?

Actually, you wouldn’t mind it as much as normally do. When everyday customers start screaming at you for some perceived wrong that you’ve supposedly committed, you typically tune them out, and then you make fun of them with your coworkers in the back, but if it’s Sae Itoshi…well. you’ll certainly listen to every word he says, and when you return to the kitchen, you’ll write them down somewhere so you can remember the moment forever.

“He didn’t like his drink,” he says, pointing at the dark haired man.

“What?” the man shrieks. The pitch is higher than you would’ve expected from someone of his size, but it appears he realizes that, too, because then he’s coughing. “I mean, what? What are you talking about?”

“You were just complaining, Aiku,” Sae says. “You even made me come up here and get mad at this girl for you.”

The other man, who you guess is named Aiku, is turning a strange shade between magenta and beet-red, and you’re surprised there isn’t steam coming out of his ears. Given that you don’t really care about him that much, you’re instantly irritated again, because why would it matter if he didn’t like his drink? Still, you have to keep up appearances.

“My apologies, sir. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” you say. 

“No!” Aiku says. “No, it’s — hey, Sae, you were the one who was all upset, so why are you putting it on me?”

“Hm?” Sae says, obviously uninterested in the conversation already. “I dunno. Maybe it happened like that, or maybe not.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, more than a little bewildered. “Ah, I’m new here, so I’m still learning.”

Aiku, who has returned to a more normal and human color, smiles at you kindly, and he’s about to respond, ostensibly to reassure you, but then your damned coworker pipes up: “No, she’s not.”

“Ah, sorry?” Aiku says.

“She’s not new,” your coworker says again.

“‘New’ is a subjective term,” you say mechanically, wishing that it was acceptable for you to turn around and hit him in public whenever you wanted.

“I don’t think anyone would consider you to be new when you’ve been working here for three years,” your coworker says. You can imagine the innocent, guileless expression on his face right now. You want to do something violent to it.

“Ha, ha,” you say. You think your eye might twitch, too, but if Aiku or Sae notice, then neither of them point it out. “What a knowledgeable fellow we have back here.”

“It’s alright,” Aiku says. “I didn’t mind the drink. Sae’s the one who threw a fit about it.”

“I liked it,” Sae says stubbornly. “It was fine.”

You step in before Aiku can turn magenta again, because that’s probably unhealthy for him, and you don’t want to be held liable for a customer dying on your watch when you’re not even being paid for it.

“Anyways, is that all? I’m actually done with my shift, so if you guys don’t need anything else…” you trail off, though inside you’re screaming something along the lines of Sae Itoshi, please notice me and give me your autograph and oh, if you could fall in love with me, too, that would be amazing!

Of course, you can’t verbalize anything like that, so you just smile and wave until the door slams shut behind them. Then you’re yanking your apron off and balling it up before chucking it at your coworker’s face. It hits him in the nose and slides to the ground; he gives you an offended look before picking it up.

“You’re lucky it was only an apron,” you say. “You owe me big time, you little shit.”

“Huh?” he says.

“I won’t forget this!” you warn him, stomping towards the small locker room, where your precious phone is waiting for you. “You’re a major-league jerk, okay? Don’t ever ask me to cover another shift for you again!”

“Huh?” 

“What the hell was that?” Aiku snaps as soon as they’ve left the cafe, because this is totally not what he was expecting when his coach told him that he had to treat Sae nicely and make him feel welcome. 

“What was what?” Sae says. He’s sipping on his coffee sedately now, even though he was complaining about it only minutes earlier.

“Since when was I the one who was upset about my coffee?” Aiku says.

“I have a bad memory,” Sae deadpans. “I guess it could’ve been either of us.”

“That was not believable in the slightest,” Aiku feels the need to inform him. Judging by Sae’s expression, it wasn’t meant to be believable, though, and Aiku sighs. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You were just going crazy and glaring at me because you thought the coffee sucked, and now you think it’s good?”

“I should’ve waited for it to cool,” Sae says. “It’s better now. I was being hasty.”

“Uh-huh,” Aiku says. “Sure. Let’s do something else tomorrow. I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t think I can face that girl again. She was so hot, too, and now she probably thinks I’m some ungrateful asshole…”

“I want to go back,” Sae says immediately, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash can. Aiku furrows his brow at him, trying to puzzle out this latest contradiction and finding himself utterly unable to. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Aiku repeats dubiously. Tomorrow he has practice, and technically so does Sae. However, they both know that Sae doesn’t need anything as ridiculous as practice in order to win against a team of eleven high-school forwards, and he’s fairly confident that his coach will tell him to accompany the bratty Itoshi instead of showing up, since the JFU is pulling out all of the stops if it means getting Sae to stay in Japan for good.

“Tomorrow,” Sae reaffirms.

I’m a nice guy, Aiku tries to remind himself. This is what nice guys do. I’m boosting team morale. Yeah. That’s all. Captain’s duties.

Still, as he chases after Sae, who apparently doesn’t know what the word ‘stroll’ means and prefers to do everything at a brisk pace more akin to a jog, he thinks that this entire ridiculous assignment feels more like a babysitter’s duties than anything. 

“Are you serious?” your father says. In the background, the TV is playing a game between Re Al and Barcha, which is rather fitting.

“Deadly,” you say, untying the laces of your sneakers and putting them with the rest of your shoes. “It was actually him.”

“Sae Itoshi,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s back from Spain?”

“Seems like it,” you say, though now that he mentions it, you’re as confused as he is. Why is Sae Itoshi here instead of Madrid? You glance at the TV — Barcha has just scored, and the cameras are sweeping through the crowds, showing the excited fans cheering — and wonder if maybe he was fired or something. You doubt that that’s what happened; after all, he’s a consistent player, and the last time he was in a match, he even managed to outmaneuver that freaky striker who plays for Bastard München, so it would make zero sense for Re Al to let him go. Besides, even if they did, you’re sure there’s dozens of clubs that would be willing to take him, so there must be another reason for his presence in Japan.

“Huh,” your father says. “Well. Good for him.” 

“I guess so,” you say. “If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him what he’s doing in town.”

Your father chuckles, taking a sip of his beer and giving you a thumbs up. “Yeah, you do that. Let me know what he says.”

You laugh, too, sitting down at the counter and eating a plate of reheated leftovers, because you know as well as your father that the idea of you ever seeing Sae Itoshi again is more than a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice thought, and anyways the chances are never zero, so for the moment, you allow yourself to imagine. 

Aiku is seriously questioning if Sae Itoshi was sent to this earth — or at least to this country — as some kind of punishment for him. He’s not really sure what’s done that would invite such cosmic retribution, but maybe it’s one of those…what did that girl call them? Karmic debts? She had said something about the sins of his past life and all, though he can’t recall the specifics.

Wait. That’s wrong. He just never learnt them in the first place, so how could he remember them in the first place? He had broken up with her before she could explain her theories to him. This prompts a wince from him, which is further fueled by the way his t-shirt sticks to his back with sweat. It’s a distinctively uncomfortable feeling, and he’s contemplating complaining, even though it probably won’t do much.

“Shut up,” Sae says.

“I didn’t say anything!” Aiku protests, more than a little spooked, since he actually had been about to say something before Sae had cut him off.

“I can see you making faces at me,” Sae says. Considering Sae is walking ahead of him and to the side, Aiku’s not quite sure how he could tell anything about what sorts of faces Aiku is making, but unfortunately, he’s uncannily correct as always, so Aiku schools his expression into a smooth, neutral one that won’t beget reprimand from his companion.

“I can’t believe you insisted on going here straight after practice,” he says.

“This is the same time we went yesterday,” Sae says. He’s kind of an insufferable smart-ass, Aiku thinks to himself, though he’d never say as much to Sae’s face. After all, unlike his counterpart, he’s considerate like that, and he always has been.

“So? We didn’t have practice yesterday,” Aiku says. “You couldn’t even let me shower?”

“You take forever in the showers,” Sae says. This is rich, for Sae is notoriously obsessive with his skincare, and of the entire team, he takes far and away the longest to get ready. But, then again, Aiku supposes that idiocy is one of those illnesses which spreads further and further until all of one’s perspectives are tainted with the virus.

“I could’ve been quick,” he says. “It would’ve been better if I could’ve at least rinsed off so I didn’t look so gross. I want to impress that Y/N girl if she’s there again today.”

“You’re not her type,” Sae says dismissively. “So why bother?”

“How do you know? Are the two of you childhood buddies or something?” Aiku says. Sae glances at him, and of course he’s way too holier-than-thou to properly sneer, but the corners of his lips turn downwards to the same effect.

“Not too hard to figure out,” he says. 

“Well, hold on just a moment! I got the vibe that she was totally into me yesterday!” Aiku says. He actually did not get any such vibes from the barista; the only thing she seemed into was clocking out, but he’s Oliver Aiku. If he can’t get a girl, he can’t do anything. Besides, it’s not like Sae would be able to tell one way or another — Aiku and his teammate Sendou have a theory that Sae was created in a lab as some kind of experiment to make the world’s best midfielder, because the guy really doesn’t have any knowledge or concern for anything that’s unrelated to soccer.

True to form, Sae blinks unsurely. “Really?”

“Yeah, one hundred percent,” Aiku boasts, although then he’s narrowing his eyes, because such a question is so out of Sae’s character that for a moment, he wonders if there’s been a mistake and he’s actually taken some other team member of his along for this ridiculous errand.

Messy red hair. Teal eyes. Forehead creased with a frown. No, it’s definitely Sae Itoshi, that’s for sure. Just Sae Itoshi in a mood that he’s never seen before. If they were a little closer, he’d ask him what’s the big deal now, but as it is, the question would probably go unappreciated.

“Hm,” Sae says. “Whatever. We’ll see.”

“Sure,” Aiku says slowly, reaching out to hold open the door of the cafe so he can enter behind Sae, since his lovely, amazing, wonderful, kindhearted teammate so generously left it to slam shut in his face. 

What a total dick. He makes a mental note to ask the JFU for a raise, because whatever they’re giving him at the moment is definitely not enough. 

“They’re back again!” your coworker says. You’re still mad at him for yesterday, so you’ve been giving him the silent treatment the entire shift. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, but his pitiful attempts at reconciliation never include an apology, so you haven’t budged yet.

He waits for you to respond, but you’re pretty sure he’s making stuff up to get you to pay attention to him, and anyways they could be in reference to anyone, so you continue to pour milk into a cup, acting like it’s an all-consuming task which you cannot possibly complete without the utmost of concentration.

“I’m being serious! Y/N, it’s Sae Itoshi and, uh, that other dude!” he says. Your hand wobbles for the briefest moment, but you conclude that he’s most likely lying, so you steady yourself and continue pouring the milk. “Fine, be that way! I’ll serve them myself!”

You can’t even say something snarky in response, because that’ll still be a win on his part, so you huff particularly loudly to no one in particular and leave it at that.

A few minutes later, he’s back, looking so contrite that if you weren’t upset with him, you’d actually be worried. Unfortunately, you very much are upset with him, so you find it on the whole to be rather hilarious and have to suppress a laugh. 

He must take your amusement as a signal to talk, because he speaks eagerly and quickly, stumbling over his words and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Y/N, Y/N, they’re insisting on seeing you, I told them you’re working right now — I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to do that, right? But I did, and now they really want to see you!” he says.

You’re still not entirely convinced, but if this is an act, then it’s a dedicated one, and you don’t think that he possesses that much dedication in all of his body, so maybe he’s actually telling the truth.

“Fine,” you say. “But if you’re lying, I swear I’m telling our manager to fire you.”

“I’m not!” he squeaks, darting back to the counter, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to catch up to him.

When you reach the front, you’re surprised to see that it is in fact Sae Itoshi and…whoever that other guy is. Aiku? Yes, that sounds right. It’s Sae and Aiku, and one looks supremely inconvenienced — this would be Sae, of course — while his friend is running a hand through his sweaty hair, flashing you a grin.

You smile back at him, because that’s what you’re trained to do, and you don’t want your coworker to tattle to your manager that you’re not abiding by the cafe’s standards of customer service. Then you stare at them until one of them starts speaking, because that’s what your entire job is, and no matter how badly you want to start gushing to Sae Itoshi about how big of a fan you are, you have to remain professional.

“Is there anything I can do for you two?” you finally say. This prompts Aiku to nod, nudging Sae in the side, which earns him a dark glare.

“I want the number two, and he’ll take the number five,” Aiku says when Sae does not speak up. You want to tell him that nobody orders like that, but you’re not supposed to and it’s really not that big of a deal either way, so you just ring up the order.

“Sounds good. Would you like to pay with cash or credit?” you say.

“Credit,” Sae says, pulling out a card that probably has a monthly spending limit higher than what you make in a year. “And we’re splitting the bill, just so you know.”

What you want to say is Wow, Sae, you’re somehow even cooler in real-life! Who’s your favorite soccer player? What’s your favorite food? Do you like Spain better, or here? What you actually say is: “No problem. I’ll have those right out for you.”

“Thanks,” Aiku says. He’s kind of charming, in a sense; you can think of several friends you have that would probably swoon at the way his smile stretches across his face, but you don’t really see the appeal. Or, maybe you would normally, but at the moment, he’s standing next to Sae Itoshi, so it’s a little hard to focus on him at all.

“Yeah,” Sae says. “Thank you. Y/N.”

He’s probably just reading off of your name tag in an effort to seem more friendly and relatable and humble and all. It’s a classic PR move that he was probably taught as soon as he joined Re Al. You know about it, though, so it shouldn’t work on you. It won’t work on you. He’s just doing what he’s trained to, the same as you are.

It works on you. You run to the back and hide your face in your hands and squeal, because Sae fucking Itoshi just said your name. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Aiku says.

“Are we just listing curse words now?” Sae says dryly. “Bitch, cunt, hell. There’s three more for you.”

“You like the barista!” Aiku accuses. If Sae was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out just then, but he’s not, so he just chokes on his saliva. 

“No way,” he says.

“Yes, you do! How else can you explain this?” Aiku says, pitching his voice up in an imitation of Sae’s. “Yeah. Thank you. Y/N. Since when do you say thank you to people?”

“Since always? I have manners,” Sae says.

“I’ve never heard you say it,” Aiku says.

“Maybe that’s more telling about you than me,” Sae suggests. Aiku scowls at him.

“You definitely like her,” he says. “No judgment here, man. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Sae says. “Even if I did like her — mind you, I don’t — she’s clearly into you.”

“Me?” Aiku says. “I was just messing with you earlier, you know. Anyways, yeah, I think she’s hot, but, like, you’ve never liked a girl before, right? So I wouldn’t get in the way of that. This is a big step.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything. Do what you want,” Sae says. 

Aiku’s already pulling out his phone and texting Sendou: big news. Lab experiment just evolved. Feels attraction and jealousy now.

“Uh-huh,” he responds absentmindedly. Sendou texts back with about fifty mind-blown emojis, and he snickers to himself, liking the message.

“Anyways, who told you I’ve never liked anyone before?” Sae says defensively. Aiku just about drops his phone, leaning forwards in interest. Could it be? Are he and Sae actually bonding? Is Sae about to tell him about his first love — who apparently is not this barista?

“I just guessed. Was I wrong?” Aiku says. He’s already trying to come up with who Sae might’ve liked — a childhood neighbor or friend? A women’s soccer player he admired? A girl he saw once in Spain but never again? Oh, that last one is particularly romantic…he’s just about accepted it as fact when Sae glares at him.

“No,” he says. Aiku’s dreams are shattered in an instant, but he can only shake his head while chuckling, both because Sae has inadvertently admitted that he actually does like that Y/N girl, and because he was an idiot for believing that ‘Sae Itoshi’ and ‘romantic’ could ever belong together in one sentence.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What do I do?” you say. You and your coworker are back on speaking terms, mostly because you have no one else to talk to and are so desperate that you’re willing to temporarily forgive him. 

“Make their drinks?” he says. You give him a dirty look as you begin mixing up their orders. 

“Not about that. I’m such a huge fan of Sae’s, and this is the second time I’m making a drink for him. It’s kind of like fate, don’t you think? Should I try to talk to him or something?” you say.

“Do you want to?” your coworker says. It’s a slower time of day, so he has nothing to do but sit and watch you — at least, nothing immediate. There’s certainly things he could be doing, but you’re not about to chide him when you’re the reason he’s slacking off.

“Obviously! But what am I supposed to even say? I’ll sound like a creep if I just start acting like a fan-girl!” you say.

“That’s true,” your coworker says. “You kind of sound like one even now…”

“Ugh, if you’re not going to be helpful, then go organize the storeroom or something!”

“What about her makes you like her?” Aiku presses.

“Are we still on this?” Sae says, as if they’ve been talking about it for hours. “I don’t like her.”

“It’s not like you talked to her for a while…was it really just her looks?” Aiku says. “Damn. Didn’t think you were the shallow type.”

“I am not the shallow type!” Sae says.

“That sounds like something that a shallow person would say,” Aiku teases.

“Shut up,” Sae says. Aiku doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times Sae’s said that particular phrase to him. Maybe if he counted all of the fingers and all of the toes of every single person in the world, he would get kind of close to what that number might be. “I’m not shallow, I don’t like her, and she’s obviously way more interested in talking to you than me, so get off my back.”

Aiku whistles. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m telling the JFU that you were the one who sent me back to Spain,” Sae informs him bluntly. Aiku isn’t sure if that’s a joke or a legitimate threat. It’s hard to tell with Sae sometimes.

“Are you serious?” Aiku says.

“Deadly,” Sae says.

Yep, Aiku decides. He’s serious. 

“If only that Aiku dude wasn’t there,” you lament, setting the first drink in the pick-up area and calling out Aiku’s name before returning to finish Sae’s drink. “It’d be way easier to talk to Sae without someone there to judge everything I’m saying.”

“Do you think he’d even care?” your coworker says. You shrug.

“No idea. It’s intimidating to talk to guys around their friends, though. You’re a guy yourself, so you wouldn’t get it,” you say.

“Are they even friends?” your coworker says. “Doesn’t seem like they get along that well.”

In unison, the two of you turn so you can look at the duo, who are sitting at a table right within your line of sight. As your coworker said, they don’t look like they’re friends in the slightest. Aiku is sipping on his drink with a smirk, and Sae looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be sitting there with his not-friend.

“The point still stands,” you say. 

“Guess so,” your coworker says. Just then, Sae Itoshi happens to glance over, making direct eye contact with you. Your eyebrows raise, and your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught. Aiku turns to follow Sae’s line of sight as you weigh your options. Should you pretend like you weren’t doing anything? Should you wave?

You decide to just smile again before returning to the drink you were supposed to be working on. Your coworker, who saw the entire exchange, cannot stop laughing.

“It’s over for you,” he says. “He definitely thinks you’re a creepy fan-girl now. You can kiss that autograph goodbye.”

“You’re lucky I’m too lazy to remake this drink,” you say. “Because otherwise, I’d spill it on you.”

“That’s against company policy,” he says.

“By accident, of course,” you say with a malicious grin.

“That’s against company policy, too!” 

“Look, she just smiled at you. I bet she was looking at you the entire time,” Sae says coolly. “You should ask for her number. You already said you think she’s beautiful.”

“I said she’s hot. I’m not all poetic and shit like that,” Aiku says. “And I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the bro code.”

“We’re not ‘bros’, so you can put that out of your head,” Sae says.

“What if I help you get her number?” Aiku says. Sae tries very hard to maintain his nonchalant look, but Aiku can tell that his curiosity has been piqued. “Will you consider me a bro then? At the minimum, will you tell the JFU that I’ve done a great job at showing you around and making you feel welcome?”

Please please please please please I really need a fucking raise Sae I’m broke please please please — 

“Sure,” Sae says.

“Sure?” Aiku says. “Yes! Okay, this will be easy.”

Sae scoffs. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think.”

“Believe me,” Aiku says. “You’re in the presence of a master.”

Sae doesn’t even dignify that with a response beyond the most disgusted look Aiku has ever seen on anyone, Sae or not. He’d say something, but he’s pretty sure he deserves it at least a little, and anyways a possible raise is way more important to him than being right, so he keeps his mouth shut, simply giving Sae a double-thumbs-up. He’s going to ace this new assignment, and then maybe he’ll actually be paid what he’s worth instead of pennies on the dime.

You’re about to call out Sae’s name when you realize that for some reason, both Aiku and Sae are standing there and waiting for you. You furrow your brow, because it’s both a menacing and a comical sight — the hulking Aiku, who looks like he’s about to go punch a criminal on television before flipping his hair and telling the ladies that there’s enough of him to go around, and the slender Sae Itoshi, who you can’t imagine doing anything but slamming a winning pass to one of his teammates, invariably leading to a soccer ball in his opponent’s net.

“Uh, hello,” you say.

“Hello,” Aiku says.

“Hi,” Sae says.

“I have your drink,” you say to Sae.

“I know,” he says, taking it from your hand. Of course — why else would they be here? They must’ve seen you finishing up the drink and rightly assumed that it was theirs.

“Right,” you say. Neither of them go to leave, and now you wonder if they just don’t understand social cues or something like that. “Did you guys want to order something else? My coworker would be happy to take you at the counter.”

“No,” Sae says.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drinks.”

“We will,” Sae says with the utmost of confidence. Aiku groans and then thumps him on the back. You have a feeling you probably don’t want to know what the significance of the gesture is, but then you realize that this is probably the only chance you’ll get to have a proper conversation with Sae Itoshi, so you shove your concerns aside.

“Wait! If it doesn’t bother you too much, can I ask you a question?” you say. It’s an incredibly awkward way of going about it, but given how awkward this entire interaction has been, you don’t think it’s a huge deal. 

“Go ahead,” Aiku says. You weren’t asking him, but you guess the permission covers them both, so you square your shoulders and face Sae Itoshi, who seems entirely confused that you’re looking at him instead of Aiku. You’re not sure why he would be, since between the two of them he’s the celebrity, but maybe there’s some weird dynamic going on that you’re unaware of.

It doesn’t matter to you, though. You only have one thing to ask. You’ll never cross paths with Sae again, will you? So it’s fine. You can act a little embarrassing, and anyways, you barely make above minimum wage, so if your manager gets too upset and fires you for ‘unprofessional conduct’ or something, it won’t be a huge loss. It’ll be worth it, even, considering this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and your coworker is busy reorganizing the storeroom like you told him to, so he’s not around to spy on you and report back to your stodgy old manager.

Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth and begin to speak. 

Aiku hadn’t dared to even dream of the possibility that the barista might already like Sae, too. Why would she? Sae had just been all weird and rude to her in the couple of times that they had spoken, so all in all she’d have to be somewhat of a masochist, or a Re Al fan (which was essentially the same thing, given the losing streak that Re Al had been on for the last month or so), to be into him. But sometimes miracles did happen and baristas were masochists, because the girl was turning to Sae with shimmering eyes and a hopeful expression and it was all going to go so well—

“What are you even doing in Japan in the first place?”

Did he hear her right? Sae is bewildered as well, but Y/N isn’t acting like she’s just asked the most ridiculous question she could’ve possibly asked. What is Sae doing in Japan? Well, he happens to be a citizen of the nation, so there’s one explanation…Aiku wants to facepalm, because now his plans have been ruined and Sae’s confidence has probably been crushed.

“Pardon?” Sae says. Aiku had told him not to act so cranky and old-man-ish when he approaches the girl, but honestly, at this point, there’s no helping him, so he doesn’t even bother with a correction.

“Why are you in Japan?” she says again, all bright and innocent and cheery. It somehow feels like she’s been faking things so far, and that this is the real her, which she’s been holding back up until this point. Aiku isn’t so sure if that’s a good thing; privately, he believes it would’ve been better if she kept holding back just a little bit longer. Long enough for her to reject Sae — who still claims he’s not into her and is just trying to ‘be friendly’, as if friendliness is something he’s well known for — and then move on with her day.

“My passport expired?” Sae says, phrasing it more like a question. “So I had to come back and get it renewed?”

His voice ticks up at the end of every sentence unsurely. It’s almost cute, like he’s a little baby chick. Aiku’s fond of chicks, so he decides he’ll step in. Just this once.

“He’s visiting from Spain to play for the Japanese U-20 team in an upcoming exhibition match,” he explains.

“Oh, wow,” she says. “But I thought you said you would rather give up on soccer or play with German college kids than ever play soccer for Japan?”

Aiku raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t aware of such sentiments, and though he’s not exactly shocked, he can’t help feeling a bit miffed. When he glances over at Sae, there’s not a trace of remorse on his face, and so he wrinkles his nose.

Forget the raise and the baby-chick-esque mannerisms alike. He’s done helping this ungrateful, no-good, lame-as-hell, girl-repelling loser for free. If Sae wants any further assistance, he’ll have to beg for it. 

“How did you know I said that?” Sae says. You clap your hand over your mouth when you realize you’ve exposed yourself.

“I, um, I was just guessing!” you say.

“Guessing?” he repeats. You swear, because that’s actually a worse explanation than the original one, and then you hang your head, because if the cat’s out of the bag, then there’s no way you can put it back in.

“It’s a quote from one of your interviews,” you mumble.

“What?” It’s Aiku, who immediately frowns when he realizes he’s butted in. Sae gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m a big fan of yours,” you say. “The last game you played in, when you stole the ball from that Bastard München striker, was amazing! To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re in the area instead of back in Madrid. It’s a little unbelievable, you see.”

“Ah,” Sae says, and for some reason he looks uncomfortable. “Well. Yeah. It was just the issues with my passport and all. I decided to play for the U-20s because I was offered a good deal, but it’s right back to Madrid for me after that.”

“That makes sense,” you say. It’s awkward again, but in a different way. You don’t know what to say. You don’t think he does either. His drink is probably cold now, and you’re surprised that Aiku’s eyes aren’t stuck in the back of his head, given how frequently he’s been rolling them. “Can I have your autograph?”

“No,” Sae says immediately. You’re a little taken aback, and to be honest, he looks kind of horrified himself, but you know better than to nag, so you only nod at him.

“No worries—” you begin before you’re cut off by a grumbling Aiku.

“He’ll give you his number instead. Here,” Aiku says, listing off a series of digits too rapidly for you to remember. “He’ll write it down, for you, right, Sae?”

And then, to your utter disbelief, Sae Itoshi is pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from who knows where, and he’s humming in agreement.

“Right,” he says, and then he’s handing you a note with his phone number written on it in neat print and his signature in flowing cursive. “You can call me later. If you want. Y/N.”

The way he speaks is stilted and low, but you don’t mind it. Tucking the piece of paper into your apron pocket, you beam at him.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll call you. I still have more things to ask you, so it’s good that you gave me this.”

“Yes,” Sae says. “Yes, you can do that if you’d like.”

Then he and Aiku are leaving the coffee shop, their drinks in hand, and you’re standing there in awe, wondering if that actually just happened or if it was nothing but a particularly vivid flight of fancy. 

If it’s the latter, then you almost hope it’s one you don’t ever escape from. 

“You’re welcome,” Aiku says as they leave the cafe. 

“I didn’t say thank you, you lukewarm oaf,” Sae says. Aiku shrugs. He’s hard to ruffle, after all. It’s the reason why he stepped in and rescued Sae from that little mistake of his. He just couldn’t bear the thought of his dear junior losing the girl of his dreams because of a slip of his tongue, even if aforementioned junior is the insufferable smart-ass type.

Well, the thought of the money he’ll make if Sae speaks of him highly to the JFU doesn’t hurt, either, but that’s less altruistic, so he prefers to stick to the first explanation.

“I bet you feel it, though,” Aiku says.

“Shut up,” Sae says. 

It’s a good thing babies are born every minute. Otherwise, given how frequently Sae says that particular phrase, Aiku really might run out of things to count on. 

You’ve typed the number on the piece of paper into your phone, and now you’re staring at it blankly, wondering if you should press the green call button. What if it was a prank? What if it wasn’t? Because then you’ll have to actually talk to Sae Itoshi, and you’re not so sure you can do that.

In a fit of inspiration, you slam your index finger against your screen and hold your phone up to your ear. It rings a couple of times, each subsequent one worsening the pit in your stomach, but then it stops ringing entirely, which can only mean one thing: Sae, if this really is his number, has answered.

“Hello?” you say.

“Hello?” he responds. “Y/N?”

“Yes!” you say. “It’s me. Y/N. Like you said.”

“Cool,” he says. “It’s Sae. Which I guess you knew, since you called me.”

“The confirmation was nice,” you say, internally sighing in relief. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. It’s mannerly but also a little sarcastic, albeit not in a mean way. You don’t mind it much. “You said you had to ask me some things?”

The two of you spend the next few minutes in a setting kind of like an interview, in that you drill him with questions and he answers them all patiently. He’s kind about it, humoring you even though he doesn’t have to, and he never threatens to hang up, which you do appreciate.

“Would you mind if I ask a question, too?” he says when you’ve taken a break to drink some water.

“Go ahead! Although I’m not as interesting as you are,” you say.

“I think you’re probably way more interesting,” he admits. “Anyways. Are you free next weekend?”

“Uh, I think I have a shift on Saturday, but to be honest, my coworker owes me, so he can cover it. Why?” you say.

“The exhibition game that I’m playing with the U-20s for. You should come watch,” he says.

“Oh! Sure, where should I get tickets? I’d have gotten them already if I knew you were playing,” you say.

“I’m allowed to invite someone,” he says. “Friends or family. So I’m inviting you.”

“Don’t you have actual friends that you can invite?” you say before gasping. “Sorry! Sorry, that was super insensitive and rude of me. Of course I’m honored to come, I’m just confused about why I’m the one you’re inviting. Me. I’ve literally made coffee for you twice, and that’s about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he says before pausing. “Um, look, Aiku told me to say this, so if it’s uncomfortable, then blame him…but I think you’re, er, beautiful?”

Your mind short-circuits. “Huh?”

“I don’t know! He’s the one who has experience, I’m just taking his advice!” Sae says, his tone souring immediately afterwards. “Trust me, it’s not like I want to. There’s many things I’d rather do than follow Oliver Aiku’s advice, but at the moment, it’s the best I can do.”

“Beautiful,” you repeat. It’s such an elegant adjective. You’ve been called pretty before, and there’s been a fair share of guys who have considered you to be hot, but beautiful…it’s nice. It’s really nice.

“Yeah,” Sae finally says. “Basically.”

“I’ll be there,” you say. There’s something like a scream bubbling in your throat, but you fight it back, knowing that it’s of the utmost importance that you maintain a relaxed demeanor.

“Great,” Sae says. “See you.”

“See you,” you say, and then you hang up before he can say anything further, because you’re already on the verge of combustion and you don’t think you can handle anything more.

Throwing your phone across the room, you give in and scream. There’s thundering footsteps, and then your father is throwing the door to your bedroom open, whipping his head around wildly.

“Is everything alright? Why are you screaming?” he says, heaving for breath, probably because he just sprinted from his spot on the couch to your bedroom in record time.

“Sae Itoshi!” you say.

“Yes?” he says, the rate of his inhales and exhales lowering as he realizes there’s no active threat to your life or property. “What about him?”

“He told me I’m beautiful and invited me to watch his game next weekend,” you say, knowing that this is going to make your father — a fellow Re Al fan — freak out.

You wait, counting down as he processes the news, unable to contain your exuberant grin, knowing exactly what’s coming. Three, two, one—

“What?”

[22ayla21]

Hello hope you have a good day! Can I request Kayden Break × civilian! Worker reader. As in reader's a normal, rational person, going to work and all that. She appears to be a perfectly polite lady but has a psycho streak a mile wide. She calms Kayden's reckless ideas down but gives him crazy ideas as well. Reader doesn't quite understand the world of Awakeners but still is very supportive of her hardworking husband.

For example:

Reader: Kayden honey, that's the 3000th pushup you've done in 2 hours.

Kayden: Yes I have to, gotta fuck up that bitch Andrei.

Reader: Who's Andrei?

Kayden: So you remember your manager Dave? The one who tried to pin the blame on that intern you liked? Andrei's the same person except he's in the top 10.

Reader:.....hm. Metal conducts electricity right? You can take my favourite knife if you wanna burn his eyes out or melt his brains or something?

Kayden: Jesus woman you should have been an awakener.

Reader: Absolutely not. So when are you inviting this doctor frie.... Ah no acquaintance, of yours to dinner? I'd love to meet him.

Kayden: ... I'm not his fr-

The city was still asleep when she got up, made breakfast and went to work as usual. A regular office, regular colleagues, regular reports. Everything would have been boring if not for one "but": her husband was an awakened one, who was feared even by the strongest of the strong.

Kayden knew that his wife was a rational, reasonable woman, and deep down sometimes he even thanked fate for this. If not for her, perhaps he would have already gotten into another crazy battle with a group of awakened ones, just for fun (and maybe died). But as soon as he had a new brilliant idea, she always stopped, narrowing her eyes, smiling so sweetly that any normal person would have goosebumps.

- Kayden, dear, do you really want to destroy half the city to test the limits of this guy's capabilities? - She put a cup of coffee in front of him, smiling. - How about something less destructive? Like... plant something unexpected on him during a fight? That's a strategy, right?

And Kayden would stop. He would wince, as if trying to find a catch, but her suggestion sounded reasonable. Safe. And most importantly, funny. She, not delving into the intricacies of the world of the awakened, just shrugged. Who was she to judge a man who loved his job so much? The main thing was that he returned home alive.

One day, Kartein approached her and carefully asked:

- How do you even cope with such a husband?

She smiled, sipping her coffee, and said slowly:

- Isn't it obvious? You just have to be a little crazy sometimes.

Kayden returned home late, with a slight smell of ozone in the air - a sign of using his power. She sighed, not looking up from her laptop.

- What is it this time? - she asked in a casual tone.

- A couple of idiots decided to test if I'm really that strong. — He shrugged, throwing off his jacket. — Now they know.

She nodded, continuing to type. Then, looking up thoughtfully, she asked,

— You let them live?

— Of course. — He snorted. — What do you think of me?

— I think you're my husband, which means you're a good person deep down. — She chuckled. — But just in case, if you ever get caught, I'll be your lawyer. And I'll have to come up with some very interesting excuses.

Kayden laughed, settling into the couch.

— You're too dangerous, you know that?

— Yeah, but you like it. — She shrugged. — Now get in the shower, or the smell of lightning will kill me.

[lara-kaminari]

Mr. Gaunt

Ominis Gaunt x F!Reader (+18!)

Ominis Gaunt is not an easy man to satisfy.

Content warning: Explicit content, smut, nsfw, p in v

Ominis Gaunt is not an easy person to satisfy.

Mr. Gaunt likes a cup of unsweetened coffee waiting for him every morning on the left side of his desk, right under the lamp his best friend gave him when he returned from his honeymoon in Egypt. The cup should be at the perfect height so that Ominis can sit down and just reach out his hand to drink it.

Mr. Gaunt always likes to have lunch at the same time, in his office, without noise or distracting incidents. He likes a good piece of steak with mashed potatoes, the steak rare and the potatoes should be well trodden but should not be out of shape.

Everything must be perfect or the wrath of Mr. Gaunt will be unleashed.

She knew this, although her first time there she thought they were mere exaggerations. She was only there because her parents considered her a person incapable of taking care of herself and who “needs to know the real world.” Yeah, right, you steal a dragon's egg for a bet and suddenly you're a girl who needs to work in the summer to become a useful member of society.

But this does not feel like an adequate punishment to reform her.

It was a foolish mistake. She was in a hurry and didn't leave the cup exactly under the shade of the lamp, Ominis' hand over stretched and the object fell to the ground. A completely ruined morning. As if it couldn't get any worse, not only the mug fell, but also a small crystal figurine, a gift from the renowned bearer of ancient magic.

That's how she ended up nailed to the wall in the office, with her skirt and panties down, her tits exposed and her pussy being fucked mercilessly.

—Mr. Gaunt, please…

—Shut up, I don't want to hear your complaints.

His hips thrust deeper inside her, her wet pussy drawing him in barely able to hide her moans and in fear of being overheard by the workers in the joint room.

—O-ominis, wait, we can't be too…!

She barely manages to say another word, Ominis pushes her against the desk and rips off what little clothing she still had left. He doesn't care that her clothes are damaged or that she has to work overtime to replace the skirt that now has an unprofessional cut on one side.

Mr. Gaunt couldn't care less as he places one of his secretary's legs over his shoulders and slams his thick cock into her once again. Each thrust sends the girl's body bouncing up and down on the table, her hard, throbbing clit taking Ominis's rough caresses to her heart's content.

She reaches out to grab the sides of the desk and rolls her eyes as the head of her boss's cock slides perfectly against her g-spot. She could swear that the mere stimulation is about to make her cry.

—That's what you wanted, isn't it? That's why you piss me off, you just want this slutty cunt to be filled with my cum…

He's close, she'd be lying if she said she doesn't know when she's about to come and what her orgasms are like. Mr. Gaunt likes to cum inside her, especially when he's angry. Mr. Gaunt doesn't know that she has begun to enjoy that feeling.

A thick warmth fills her. Her body trembles once more, another orgasm rushes over her and her nails dig into the dull edge of the table. His cock continues to squirt and more cum pools in her loins. The man's seed leaks and squirts like a mess, but at least they are both satisfied.

Then it's like everything is back to normal until dismissal time when her parents come to pick her up. Everyone goes crazy when they see Sebastian Sallow and his amazing wife walk in.

Ominis Gaunt's best friends.

—How did my daughter behave today? I hope she didn't give you any trouble. —Said Sebastian.

—Not at all, she definitely didn't inherit your bad behavior.

—Very funny; darling, say goodbye to your uncle Ominis.

Ominis Gaunt is not easy to please, he has perfect standards. He is perfect. Impeccable. Flawless. Perhaps the only dirt on him is seen behind closed doors and she's not one to share his secret.

—See you tomorrow, Uncle Ominis.

[fuckingsimpthatswho]

One Piece incorrect Quotes

part 2 because they are funny

Sanji: Wait, hold up, why you draw yourself like that? Usopp: Uh, like what? Sanji: Like with gorgeous, muscular legs. Usopp: Uh, this is what I look like. Sanji:

Usopp: THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE! Sanji: Okay, then I want big beefy arms. Hot ones. Zoro: I wanna have a cowboy hat! Usopp: Okay, arms and hat. draws them Luffy: Ooh, give me a cowboy hat too! Usopp: You can't just take Zoro's hat idea, Luffy! He thought it up all by himself like a good person! Come up with your own thing! Luffy: BUT I WANNA LOOK COOL! Nami: Put Luffy on one of those stupid baby tricycles. Luffy: NO!! Usopp: Tricycle, done. draws it Brook, want anything? Nami, making finger guns: Pew pew. Usopp: A blaster?! No, that's not really our style, Brook. Brook, making finger guns: Pew pew. Usopp: You know what, okay. draws it But it's just for holding, not for shooting.

Brook: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Franky: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Robin: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Zoro: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. Nami: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Sanji: Mental stability, my old friend! Brook: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Franky: From now on we will be using code names. Franky: You can address me as Eagle One. Franky: Chopper is “been there done that”. Franky: Robin is “currently doing that”. Franky: Brook is “it happened once in a dream”. Franky: Nami is “if I had to pick a gal”. Franky: And Usopp is.. Franky: Eagle Two Usopp: Oh thank god.

Luffy, watching Zoro and Sanji from afar: Two Bros, Chillin in a hot tub. Five feet apart because they think they’re not gay, BUT THEY REALLY ARE-

Usopp, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe? Nami: Yeah, sure. A few minutes later Nami: Here you go. Usopp: Nami: Sanji: Why am I here?

Chopper: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed. Usopp: Usopp: I'm gonna tell them. Nami: Don't you dare.

Nami: We’re going to a candy store?! Usopp: No! It’s nighttime, candy stores are closed. Chopper: We’re gonna ROB a candy store?!?! Usopp, sighing: No-

Chopper: How do I ask someone out? Nami: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Chopper: No! Usopp: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Chopper: Stop! Robin: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Chopper: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

Chopper: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Nami? Nami: Usopp, easily. Usopp, laughing: What the fuck, man. Nami: Well, Sanji would be too easy. They’d probably be into it. Sanji, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

Chopper: Today at 7 am, Robin poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Nami: I watched Robin brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Usopp: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

Franky: Know why I called you in here? Robin: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic. Franky: Stops pouring two glasses of wine. Accidentally?

Sanji: Stops making lunch an stand there confused

Franky: What are you in the mood for? Robin: World domination. Franky: That's a bit ambitious. Robin: You are my world. Franky: Aww… Robin: Franky: Robin: Franky: OH.

[ironwoman18]

Savage Love

Michael Kaiser, the German emperor and the best player Germany currently has, was in love with his teammate and rival Yoichi Isagi but he could never admit it out loud especially when he’s in a relationship with Rin Itoshi, the PXG genius.

Or at least that was the situation a couple of months ago…

Isagi seemed down after a National Team break, Japan had to play against China and Australia in their road to the 2026 World Cup, while Germany was playing the Nations League against France and Spain.

“Yoichi, what’s happening? You aren’t playing as usual” said Michael, pushing him with his shoulder after finishing the practice.

Isagi clenched his fists and Kaiser noticed that “I’m dealing with some personal things…” 

“Well deal with them outside of my field” Kaiser was one of the captain of the team, Sae was the main captain of the Madrid but he won the status of leader with his goals and powerful presence “so get the fuck out if you need to” he hated to be rude, he wasn't the same teenager who was mean and full of himself when he was in the NEL, especially after that final match against PXG. 

Now he and Issgi play in Spain with Sae Itoshi and they destroy everyone in Europe as the most powerful offense.

“C...can I ask you something?” Said Isagi looking down. Kaiser sighed.

“Sure” they headed to a private room to speak “what's going on Yoichi?” 

“Rin broke up with me...” They caught him by surprise, Sae set a rule that they shouldn't talk about their personal life with the other players but some still do, but never Isagi so hearing this shocked him.

“Oh... I understand that it always affects our mood whenever it happens” said Kaiser, trying his best to be professional. He always hated Rin and wanted to destroy him. He wasn't a true genius, he was a prodigy so he had to work double hard to reach his goals, so Rin was his natural enemy “I will speak with the coach to give you some time” he was about to leave but Isagi’s voice stopped.

“Thank you... But I need your help” he looked at him and raised his eyebrow confused “I need your help, can we meet after practice?”

“Umm… s…sure” Michael agreed unsure.

Later that day they left the training camp and headed to a cafe nearby Kaiser’s apartment. They ordered a coffee and something to eat.

“Ok Yoichi, what’s going on?”

“Well I need your help with something…” he looked down blushing which somehow was cute to Kaiser “I need your help to get back with Rin”

Kaiser was confused by that “huh? What do you mean?” 

“He hates you and I want to make him feel jealous. What's better than someone he hates?”

Kaiser couldn’t argue with his logic, as usual Isagi’s logical reasoning was outstanding “yes, it’s the most logical thing to do” he looked at him “but why could I accept it? What’s the benefit for me?”

“Besides annoy Rin?” Kaiser smirked and nodded “Maybe don’t be a whore?” 

Kaiser laughed “That’s who I am” said him with a smirk “but I can't deny I want to annoy Rin. Ok I will do it” Isagi looked surprised “don't look too shocked Yoichi, I'm doing this because I want to help you and because it's funny seeing Rin angry” he smirked more.

While they ate they talked about the details and it will start at the Ballon D'ors where they were both nominated, after Real Madrid’s champions league trophy and Kaiser was competing against Nagi for a Puskás prize.

And now he was faking a relationship with Isagi, they even moved together and slept in the same bed.

If I woke up without ya

I don't know what I would do

Thought I could be single forever 'til I met you

Usually don't be fallin', be fallin', fallin' first

You got a way of keeping me comin' back to back

Deep down Kaiser was afraid because he had been noticing how Rin looked at both of them, holding hands or even sharing kisses knowing he was looking at them.

Kaiser was a fuck boy, he never had a really serious relationship with a boy or a girl, he just had sex and kiss but never anything serious. And the worst thing is he fell in love quickly, maybe he already had feelings but he was never willing to accept them.

Every time they decided to end it, after a tough match they HAD to have sex and they thought “maybe we can keep going” and the most amazing thing is that neither Kaiser nor Isagi flirted with anyone else, even though they wouldn’t mind but neither wanted that, sex was way to good.

Savage love

Did somebody, did somebody

Break your heart?

Lookin' like an angel

But your savage love

When you kiss me

I know you don't give two fucks

But I still want that

Your savage love

Your savage lo-lo-love

Your savage lo-lo-love

You could use me

'Cause I still want that (your savage)

Yoichi always has two personalities, he was a sweet nice boy and when he’s fired up, he changes and becomes a savage, Kaiser always thought it was only in football but he was also in bed.

Kaiser knows their kisses are meaningless for him, but for Kaiser, they mean something. Those kisses turn him into a pudding and fall even harder and a part of him hates this weakness.

He loves the savage love Yoichi is giving him, he wasn’t a stranger to be treated like trash but ever since he met Yoichi, he was at peace with his past and learned how to use it in football and in life.

Kaiser made sure to save abused kids from their parents, Kaiser’s Foundation, and this was part of using his past for good.

Baby, I hope that this ain't karma 'cause I get around

You wanna run it up, I wanna lock it down

Kaiser hoped that this wasn’t part of the karma because of his attitude towards love and relationships. 

He could see Isagi was willing to leave if Rin asked to but Kaiser wanted to keep this relationship, sadly he’s a coward and would never admit it. 

He can’t admit he loves Yoichi Isagi.

OOooOOooOO

I had this idea yesterday and I thought about these two guys. I doubt this will be a multiple chapter story. 

Hope you liked it.

[darkenedroses-world]

Unapologetically Yours — Smii7y x Reader

alt!reader, f!reader, hurt/comfort, protective boyfriend, request🦋

You hadn’t thought much of it when you were featured in the background of Jaren’s latest vlog with the boys. It had been an easy, fun day—Droid yelling nonsense, Pezzy’s laugh echoing through the coffee shop, and Jaren’s camera occasionally swinging your way as you rolled your eyes at their antics. But within hours of the video going live, you noticed the comments. At first, they were harmless:

Wait, who’s that?

Smii7y’s got a new friend???

But as more people piled on, the tone shifted:

Who’s the goth chick with Smii7y?

Alt girls are so cringe.

She looks like she just stepped out of a Hot Topic from 2007.

Emo 🖤 😂

You had thick skin—your style had always drawn mixed reactions—but this felt different. It wasn’t just strangers commenting on your Instagram; it was Jaren’s audience, people who barely knew you but thought they had the right to dissect your appearance. You tried to ignore it, scrolling past the harsh words as you sat in your usual spot on the couch. But as the hours dragged on, the comments swirled in your head, louder than anything else. When Jaren got home that evening, his bag slung over one shoulder, he immediately picked up on your mood. “Hey,” he said, dropping his things by the door. “Why do you look like someone stole your coffee order?” “I’m fine,” you lied, not looking up from your phone. “Mm-hmm,” he replied, unconvinced. He walked over, crouching in front of you and resting his hands on your knees. “What’s actually going on?” Your resolve cracked under his soft tone, and you let out a shaky sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Just… comments on the vlog.” Jaren frowned, his light eyes narrowing.

“What kind of comments?” “Just people being people,” you said with a forced laugh. “Making fun of how I look, calling me cringe… stuff like that.” “Let me see,” he said, holding out his hand. “No, it’s fine—” “Babe,” he interrupted, his voice firmer now. “Let me see.” Reluctantly, you handed over your phone, watching as his expression shifted from confusion to frustration. “What the fuck is this?” he muttered, scrolling through the comments. “Are they serious right now?” “It’s not a big deal,” you said quietly. “It is to me,” he shot back, setting your phone down and cupping your face in his hands. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see that, it’s their problem.” The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, but you still couldn’t shake the sting of the comments. “I just… don’t want to make things harder for you,” you admitted. Jaren’s brows furrowed. “Harder for me? Babe, you make my life better in every possible way. If they can’t handle you being unapologetically you, that’s on them—not you.”

His words brought tears to your eyes, and he immediately pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I’m handling this,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “No one talks about my girl like that.” Minutes later, Jaren was live. The usual playful energy he brought to his streams was absent, replaced with a calm, no-nonsense demeanor that had his chat immediately paying attention. “Alright,” he began, his voice steady but laced with irritation. “We need to talk about something.” His eyes flicked to the chat as messages flooded in:

What’s going on?

Uh-oh, Smii7y sounds pissed.

Drama???

“A recent vlog I did, there were some of you thought it was okay to make shitty comments about my girlfriend because of how she looks,” he continued. “Let me tell you something—that’s not okay. Not even a little bit.” He leaned closer to the mic, his light eyes narrowing. “She’s smart, funny, and the kindest person I know. And yeah, she’s alternative, her style is different and unique. You got a problem with that? Take it somewhere else, because I don’t want you here.” The chat exploded:

WHO TF WAS TALKING SHIT?

Alt girls are hot, y’all just jealous.

Smii7y popping OFF and I love it.

Jaren didn’t stop there. “Her style? It’s fucking awesome. She’s unapologetically herself, and if you can’t handle that, maybe take a look in the mirror and figure out why you feel the need to tear people down.” His words hit hard, and you watched from the doorway, your heart swelling. “And for the record,” he added, his voice softening slightly, “I’m so proud to have her in my life. She makes me better in every way.” When he ended the stream, Jaren turned to find you standing there, tears in your eyes. “Feel better?” he asked with a small smile. You nodded, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Yes, I did,” he said, kissing your temple. “You’re my girl, and I’ll always have your back. Always.”

[moonffe]

i lovedddd my lips might've slipped!! please please please make a part 2

ofc. <3

my lips might've slipped

ethan landry pt2

pt1. pt3 warnings: making out, suggestive stuff, arguing, blood. word count: 7k

A/N: the writers block i got while writing this was almost the end of me... came up with a lot of one shot ideas though so I'll be posting those really soon.

“You left him… there.” Quinn repeated after you, looking bored out of her mind like this happened everyday.

“He was being an asshole, Q.”

“You always think he's being an asshole.“ She shook her head with distaste.

You weren't exactly known for being uncomfortable around people. Actually, it was the other way around. But you couldn't look at her as she ambled towards her closet. You felt embarrassed, tracing the rim of your coffee mug with your finger. “That's just how he acts, Y/N. You out of all people should know this.”

“He used to be different.”

This seemed to pique her interest. “In general or towards you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Both.”

“A lot of stuff has changed since we were kids.” She told you, leaving a bag with vials filled with fake blood next to you on the bed. You understood there was privacy in this apartment, but it was risky to leave this kind of stuff just laying there in her closet. How did she do it? “Richie's gone, dad's more distant than usual…”

Quinn bit her lower lip. You hated drawing all the attention to you when she was going through stuff, too.

“You don't need to—”

“It's fine.” She cut you off, her tone slightly aggressive. She cupped your face in her hands and leaned over you before you could stop her. You weren't self-conscious while being this close to her, Quinn was definitely the person you trusted the most. That's exactly why she noticed your lack of eye contact and was now forcing you to look at her. You didn't want to. You had so much shit bottled up you were scared you would start crying. You winced at the idea, stretching your arm to leave your mug on her night table.

“You're amazing, Y/N. I'm not just saying this because I'm your best friend. You really deserve the best out there, and If my asshole brother can't give you that, then move on.” You tried to retort, but her hand quickly slapped over your mouth. Jesus. “If you say you're not into him one more time, I'll jump out that damn window right now.” Her head nodded towards her bedroom's single window. You lured at her, but you could feel your heart hammering inside your ribcage. “You want him, and he wants you back. I'm not stupid and I know my brother— But if he keeps up with all the bullshit, then stop. I love him, but that doesn't make him a better person.”

Your eyes were starting to water, and hers were still fixated on yours. You licked her palm for the fuck of it. Quinn winced, retracting her hand from your face. “Did you have to do that?”

You wiped your damp eyelashes with the side of your wrist, a knot in your throat. “You weren't letting me go.” She snorted, your body barely swaying from her cleaning her palm on your shirt sleeve.

“Still. That ruined my entire speech.” Quinn had to press her lips together to not laugh. You were aware the situation was probably funny, but you couldn't muster a smile.

Her hand covered your mouth again, expression serious. “Understood?” She waited for you to say the words. You surrendered. The fuck else could you do? “Good.”

“I don't want him.” It's the first thing you said when you were able to speak again.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? I'll jump out the window, Y/N.”

You sighed, lifting your gaze from the floor to meet her eyes. “Thanks for telling me all that. I'm not sure it helped, but— I appreciate you caring about me and my… complicated relationships with individuals who do not own a uterus. You're a good friend.”

“Best friend.” She ruffled your hair before reclining on the bed, propping herself on her elbows. “Well, are you gonna tell me what happened between the two of you?”

She'd hate you. She'd beat the absolute shit out of you. Your eyes almost widened at the mere thought of telling her— Yeah, you weren't going through that. “Nice try. No.”

“Did you…” Her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “Get drunk and kiss him?”

“No.”

She elevated her eyebrows. “Did you fuck him?”

“Fuck, Quinn!” Your face scrunched up, she laughed when you threw a pillow straight to her face. “No!”

“Okay, okay!” She glanced away before looking back at you. “Did you maintain sexual intercourse with my brother?”

You had to rub your temples to alleviate your embarrassment. “That made me want to kill myself.”

“So it's a yes.”

“It's a ‘I'm not talking to you for the rest of the night’.”

“You can't talk to the dead.” She reminded you, sighing as she sprawled out on the bed. You mirrored her, lying on your back and staring at the ceiling, fidgeting with the ring around your finger. You missed wearing some of your favorite jewelry, but times were different, and now you had to keep them hidden in your closet. They were gifts from a certain person…

“Go fuck yourself, respectfully.” You shut your eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips as Quinn's hand slapped over your forehead. She felt up your face until reaching your cheek, your head tilting after she gave it a fake bitch slap.

“I did not take any offense in that.” You couldn't see her face, but the laziness in her voice was obvious.

You stared at the filled bathtub, feeling the weight of your eyelids. Time flew by while you and Quinn were asleep. You usually avoided naps, afraid you'd have that dream again. But this time you were so tired you didn't even think of him. Ethan's presence brought you back to the present. He sprayed fake blood into the water, then turned to you. "You ready?” You hated being this close to him.

“I guess.” You motioned for him to turn around while you took your clothes off and got in the bathtub. You kept your shirt in hand, using it to cover yourself. If you fucking catched him looking at you… “Ready.”

Ethan faced you, eyes briefly lingering downwards before he sighed. “Okay.” He hummed, a small wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he knelt in front of you, focused on inspecting your torso. “This is gonna hurt.”

“We practiced this.” He nodded, still not looking into your eyes. You had to die. Well, not exactly. The plan was to get injured and just make it look like you almost died.

It would be too convenient if you escaped the apartment clean, and too hard to fake your death like Quinn was. So, since you were such a fucking masochist, you agreed to do this.

Your best friend wasn't as good with a knife like her brother was. He knew what he was doing well enough to not damage anything vital, and you were sure he wasn't evil enough to actually hurt you. "Bring it.”

Was he?

You squeezed his shoulder with all your strength as the blade of his knife found its place beneath your ribs. He pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his neck. You weren't supposed to scream.

“I know. I know it hurts.” He whispered, fingers sliding through locks of your hair. He was trying to comfort you, anyone would in this situation, but the glare you showed him made the look on his face change. He let go of you. “Have it your way, sweetheart.”

You frowned at the pet name. “I'm bleeding. Do you mind?”

“I stayed on the side and didn't go too deep, Y/N. You're not gonna bleed out.” He spat, applying fake blood to your leg. His hand ran over your skin to disperse it over your shin. He had an attitude, you could see it on his face, but he was still being careful.

“And? It still hurts.” You said, trying to hide how damn flustered you were actually getting.

Your hand remained hardly grasping your shirt, trying to keep it in place. Ethan's eyes met yours after you flinched at the cold blood. He looked away, but his gaze returned to your hands after a while. You didn't like it. “What?”

“You’re shaking.” He mentioned. Discreetly, you checked. Your fingers trembled around your shirt, but he shook his head before you could retaliate. “I'm not looking.” His voice was soft, but your personality wasn't.

“You are, though.” And he probably was. Why the hell would he mention it, then?

He gave you a look, but continued with his work. You were trying to relax, you really were, but his touch was making you feel things. The fabric of his gloves touching you with so much gentleness like you were made of porcelain. It was actions that mattered, not words. His thumb traced up your arm, softly pressing on your shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get that mole removed?”

“Ethan.” You grumbled.

He sat back, looking distraught for a second before he made up his mind and met your gaze. “Was it for that guy?” He asked. You could only close your eyes, trying not to snap. “I'm dead serious, Y/N. I want to know.”

You weren't supposed to talk about anything that could or couldn't have happened in the past. And specifically, of how he could know about that mole. “What guy?”

“Johnny.” He choked out. “Your asshole ex.”

You opened your eyes and realized he was, in fact, being serious. His demeanor solemn as he stared, waiting for you to answer him like you didn't have a fucking agreement. “Surprised you remember him.”

“I remember when it comes to you.” His words made your cheeks heat up, though you weren't sure if it was out of surprise or embarrassment.

“What does he have to do with any of this?”

“Did you get it removed for him?” He looked at your shoulder, a vein throbbing on his jaw. “I liked that mole.”

“I don't know, was Tate dressing up for you at the Halloween party?”

He almost looked like he wanted to deny it, but couldn't bring himself up to the task. “Do you care?”

“It's the second time you ask me that.” You paused, and decided to shoot him back. “When it comes to you, I care.”

“Is it bad that I like the sound of that?” He asked, his voice husky. It made your breath hitch.

“Just answer the question.”

“I don't know— Maybe? I didn't ask her to.”

“That's kinda obvious.” It was. But you still wanted to know if it was fucking intentional. “It would be weird.”

“What? Ask my girlfriend to dress up for me?” He chuckled, his amusement tinged with sarcasm. “It would be plain abusive.”

Girlfriend. Your jaw clenched, you couldn't keep living like this. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it hurt so much to know he did exactly what you asked him to? He got over you, and you were still the same idiot that drooled over him every time he was nice to you. You hated him.

“You know who'd do that?”

Ethan noticed the change of tone in your voice, so he just hummed in response, wanting to avoid an argument. But by that moment, it was your only way of protecting yourself. Of trying to take your heart away from his reach. “Your dad.”

“You always say that.” You noticed how much you got to him by how forcefully he put the vial down. He leaned in, fingers threading through your hair to make it look like you fought back.

“Am I wrong?”

“No.” He paused, his voice wavering. He was struggling to maintain his composure, and you were enjoying it. “But he's my father, and I'm nothing like that man. It's offensive.”

“Nothing like him?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. He met your gaze with conviction, looking like he was about to snap at you.

“Nothing like him.”

“I thought you helped him kill your mom.”

“It's different.” He assured you, a flicker of pain crossing his features. You weren't falling for that shit.

“But you have a relationship with him.”

“Not the relationship I'd like.”

Your teeth caught your lower lip as he got busy again. He applied blood on his gloves for realism, rubbing his palms together to spread it over the black fabric. It wasn't hard for you to notice the missing item, since you were pretty much devouring him with your eyes.

You were unaware that you voiced your thoughts out loud until his eyes focused on you. You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

“What?” He inquired, confused.

“Tate's hair tie.”

He just stared at you for a while, lowering his head ever so slightly. “Right.” You frowned.

“Did you guys get into an argument or something?” You were sure the answer was no, but him exhaling took you by surprise.

“It's stupid.”

“What did you do?”

“We were kissing and… I don't know, I was drunk. Mixed things up and called her by your name.”

His confession made your face fall. “Is that supposed to be romantic? Because it doesn't fucking feel like it.”

“She said no strings attached.” He glowered at you.

“Then why did you take it off?”

“Because she was mad.” He bit his lower lip, playing with the lace of his left boot to avoid looking at you. “I never— I never felt something for her, Y/N. But I think she started falling in love with me.”

No, no, no, no— You weren't sitting through that shit. Your best friend was one wall away, if you could just… “Quinn!” You shouted, but his bloody glove clamped over your mouth. When the fuck did he get that close to you?

“No, listen.” He groaned. ”You can't just always push me away.”

You moved your head to the side to push his hand away. His nose only inches away from touching yours. He was breathing heavily, and you were ashamed to admit it was making you nervous, he was making you nervous. “I don't wanna hear it, Ethan.”

“Can you give me one chance?” He begged, his hands moved to the wall, pinning you against it. “Just one fucking chance to talk?”

You started feeling dizzy while his eyes were on yours, and you realized you forgot to breathe. How to breathe. Fuck, you were weak. “Go on.” You wheezed.

“Thank you, I—” He swallowed. “I never felt something for her. I never felt… anything since we broke up. That's why I was using Tate. Because I was trying to feel something, I was trying to feel alive again—”

“So you just used her?” You cut him off, you were gripping your shirt against your bare body for dear life. “Like she was disposable.”

“I never thought you out of all people would care about that.” You rolled your eyes. He grabbed your chin to stop you from looking away from him. “We said no strings attached, Y/N. It couldn't even be called a relationship— It wasn't one. We would just make out and I would go as her date at parties.”

“You still looked pretty damn close.” You huffed, jealousy clouding your senses. “I don't wanna know about how you switched saliva with that bitch—”

“You just asked me to tell you!” He protested, your hand slapping over his mouth. You stayed silent, trying to get a clue on what was going on outside. It was very faint, but you could hear the group still yapping and laughing.

“If they hear you, it's over.” You grimaced.

“I'm sorry.” He coed.

“It's fine…” A low sigh escaped your lips, the soft fabric of his cloak between your fingers as you absentmindedly adjusted the hood.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you asked me.”

“But you never told me anything before.” You paused, locking eyes with him. His big, earnest brown eyes that held rare vulnerability. You wanted to kiss him. “Why is it different this time?”

His fingers traveled up your arms, cradling your wrists tenderly as they were still pressed against his neck. “You know why.” He murmured, a tinge of pain underlying his words, causing your guts to twist and turn inside of you. Then you realized maybe they actually were. You still had a cut on your side.

“We're not good for each other.”

Ethan grimaced, shaking his head. “You keep saying that, but you're the only person I've felt something for—”

“Do you want me or need me, Ethan?” You interrupted him, he looked confused for a second. “Because they're two different things. And if you need me, it's not love.”

“I need you because I want you.” His face held a sense of urgency. What did he want you to say?

“What do you think is going to happen? If the same thing from last time repeats itself—”

“We'll get through it.” He nodded his head, his features shifting to show a crazed, desperate glimmer in his eyes that made him look out of his mind. “I want a future with you. I want you. Just you. Please, just— just think about it, alright? Please, let me… just let me…”

His plea hung in the air when you pressed your mouth on his. He groaned, his soft lips easily returning the kiss. The two of you grinned when he lost balance and you had to hold his shoulders, keeping him in place. He was still on his knees, after all.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, gliding and rubbing over yours. Your fingers tangled between his messy curls, fingertips fondling his scalp and making him kiss you even more eagerly. It was slow, but you could tell he had been wanting to do that for a long time. Ethan let out a sound, and you questioned if it was a sob or he was just really enjoying himself. Did he really miss you that much? To cry the second you kissed him? His muscular arms snaked around your body, the softness of his cloak against your bare, cold skin feeling like heaven on earth to you.

He was holding you like you would disappear if he let go, and maybe he was right. Ethan was addictive. He was like a drug you couldn't get enough of, and you were just wondering what would happen when he walked out that door and you found yourself alone, feeling guilty for falling into temptation.

“You're ready.” His lips were wet and he was breathing hard when he pressed his forehead against your own. You gave a small hum to acknowledge his words. “Remember the plan?”

You hummed again. “I need to leave you now.”

“Alright.” You finally opened your eyes, a little too bewitched by the boy in front of you for your brain to have any logical structure. His minty breath hit your lips as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips you gladly reciprocated.

He stood up straight and grabbed the empty vials from the floor while you recollected your thoughts, a nauseous sensation sweeping over your stomach at the thoughts your brain was, for some reason, forming.

What if something happened to him? “If they hurt you, I'll slit their fucking throat.”

Ethan bit his lip to hold back a smile, his knee bumping against your calf. “Didn't consider you a romantic.” He stared down at you, his grin was contagious.

“I prefer the term psychotic, but thanks anyway.”

His gloved hand affectionately ruffled your hair, sliding down to your cheek as his lips pressed a kiss on it. “Try not to move too much, alright? I promise I'll make you dinner after this is over.”

You snorted, your hands finding place in his lightly muscular chest as you pulled him down to your height. He finally gave in, revealing a set of white, straight teeth as he smiled. “You're gonna burn the house down.”

You had a lot of memories of sixteen year old Ethan trying to cook, he was a fire hazard near a stove.

“We'll order takeout, then." He said in a low tone, giving your forehead one last kiss. Then your temple, then your lips. “It's a promise.” You watched him rise from the floor and leave, chewing on your lip as you heard the faint voices of him and his sister arguing about something.

Quinn was bloody and ready, they just had to start making noise to catch the group’s attention. Your breathing slowly increased in pace as the realization of what just happened started hitting you. You shouldn't have kissed him, you shouldn't have let him kiss you, you practically just told him yes—

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You threw your shirt aside and groaned in pain. You definitely couldn't move much with a wound that big. Successfully grabbing your phone from the floor, you saw Quinn's text.

Took him a while to leave. Everything alright?

Not really.

Your finger tapped on the side of your phone impatiently. Come on. Come on, come on, come on— you sighed when she started typing.

Did he try something?

We kissed.

Was it consensual?

Yes. That's why i feel so fucking shitty. I shouldn't have.

We'll talk about this later alright? I need to get out there.

Okay.

You laid back on the bathtub and your face scrunched up. Fuck, it was hurting you. Was it pathetic that you couldn't even feel the pain before because you were busy worrying about Ethan? It probably was. He was still in your mind, he had been since you were seventeen.

There was a reason why you broke up, a reason why you tried to avoid him all these months. Guess you can't fall out of love with someone this fast, you had no idea why you thought you could achieve that. It was Ethan Kirsch we were talking about. That made it even harder.

Your eyes couldn't stare at the white ceiling for much longer, you were starting to blink a lot and you somehow feeling yourself losing blood. You didn't know if that was possible, or you were starting to hallucinate. Only thing you knew for sure, is you were dizzy as fuck. There were screams and thuds resonating through the thin walls of the apartment, the sounds of footsteps and running.

You weren't sure of how much time passed since Ethan left, but the voices and slams on the door became closer, a lot louder. Your eyes were starting to open again at the closeness of the noises. Someone called your name. Screamed your name, actually. It wasn't hard for you to recognize Mindy's voice. You blinked, trying to adjust to the lighting of the bathroom as Chad's sister noticed the crimson water in the bathtub, panting.

“Fuck, you gotta come with us!” Her eyes drifted somewhere else and yours followed. Sam was holding the door to the living room, with your ex-boyfriend relentlessly pounding on it. She looked horrified.

“Help her put something on. Fast!” She commanded, Mindy nodded and attempted to help you out of the water, but you kept shaking your head and pushing her arms away.

“I can't walk, I can't walk, I can't walk…”

“You're gonna die if you stay here!” Sam yelled.

Mindy choked out a breath, grabbing your pile of clothes from the floor. “I'm sorry about Quinn, but you need to come with us!”

“I can't— I won't. He thinks I'm dead.”

“With all the screaming, no, he doesn't anymore!” Sam ran towards you, hugging your shoulders to pull you out of the water. Mindy's eyes were wide and her hand was clutching at the wound on her arm after leaving you to put your underwear and shirt back on. Ethan was banging on the door harder every time, and Sam was starting to get impatient.

You rushed into Quinn's room and your jaw flew open at the sight of Anika bleeding that much. What did Ethan do to her?

The door creaked as it broke. Sam dashed into Quinn's room, and she and Mindy barricaded it with a closet. Your gaze shifted to Sam's boyfriend, staring at you and Anika bleeding out from the other window. Billy's daughter was looking for a way out, and you weren't exactly sure of what was happening while you stared at the door, wondering how much it would take Ethan to break it like the past one. Anika was whimpering, your arm wrapping around her absentmindedly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam panted, catching your attention. Ethan was taking too long… And Danny was using a… ladder. To help you cross. What the fuck? “You three go first!” Sam turned to you. You glanced at Mindy, who looked offended.

“Someone needs to hold the door, Sam! Anika and Y/N are losing blood!” She shouted. “Go!”

“Shit…” Sam gave you a look before going first. Mindy was still holding the door, and Anika clutched her stomach, trying to contain as much blood as possible. You started blinking, feeling cold sweat run down your temples. You laid back on the bed, knowing you had to stay conscious for this to work. Mindy wasn't getting away from the door…

“I'll hold it.” You offered, stumbling with your own feet as you got up.

“You're practically dying, I'm not leaving you to do this!” She scowled, but you ignored her words and still stood next to her, pushing the closet onto the door.

“So now you're being nice to me?” You bit the inside of your cheek, because you knew this was probably the last time you'd see her.

“I was wrong.” She choked out, giving you a nod. No, she wasn't. Sam yelled for someone to go next. You and Mindy looked at Anika. She was the closest to passing out.

You started falling asleep before waking up again, you had to wait for Anika to get a little closer to Danny's window… when your eyes opened, you realized you fell asleep for another second. Shit. You glanced back, seeing Ethan's arm fully in the room and swinging his knife through the small opening of the door. You glared at Mindy. If she pushed back one more time, she was going to fucking hurt him.

You faked passing out, collapsing sideways to push her down onto the floor. Ethan kicked the door open after you landed on top of Mindy. She struggled to push you from on top of her, but she managed to... without enough time to get to the window. Sam and Anika's screams echoed as Ethan's hands closed around Mindy's neck, choking her right beside you.

You opened your eyes, seeing hers widen. Mindy's lips parted as if to yell something, but Ethan slammed her down on the floor, pressing harder on her neck until she gradually stopped fighting back. Her arms fell limp, and you glanced up at him. Anika was next.

You were faking being passed out, so you didn't really know what was going on until a loud thud reached your ears. Holy shit. Did she fall?

You stayed still, listening to Ethan's footsteps with your eyes closed. He knelt down beside you, you caught your lower lip between your teeth.

"Good girl." He praised, caressing your cheek with two of his gloved fingers. He forgot to turn off his voice changer.

“Do you think they're going at it?” Ethan's head turned to look at you, arms folded across his stomach. His chest rose and fell softly with each breath, the Christmas lights that took you half an hour to untangle and install in Quinn's car hitting his face directly.

You knew he was cold— you could tell. But he wasn't saying it out loud. You felt guilty. He told you to bring thicker blankets, but you completely forgot with how much your best friend kept rambling about her new boyfriend while you packed for your road trip.

Your forehead wrinkled as you munched on a Skittle, nodding emphatically “Is that even a question? Definitely.”

Ethan reached for a handful of candy from the bowl in your hands, propping himself on an elbow. “You think? I thought they only came here because he wanted to know the woods.”

You rolled your eyes, his expression curious as he chewed. “You know Quinn.”

“But I don't know the guy.”

“He's probably a jock who just wants sex, Eth. They all are. and Quinn is…” You squinted, searching for words. “Quinn.”

“Don't call her that.” He protested, pausing mid-movement to glare at you.

“Don't look at me like that.” You retorted, bringing the bowl to your chest to protect it from him. Ethan stared at you through his long eyelashes, apathetic. You let out a groan when he reached out to grab something behind you, his chest inadvertently ending up above your legs. “Personal space, mister.”

“I just want my water…” He grumbled under his breath, the two of you sharing a menacing look after he sat up straight again.

“She's my best friend. I know her more than you do.”

“Is that so?” He twisted the cap open, challenging you. “How?”

“You're like… okay, let's put it this way. You're family.” The way he rolled his eyes made you crack a smile. He looked adorable with his tousled, curly hair imprinted by the pillow. The two of you had woken up from a two-hour nap just about ten minutes ago, and you were a sucker for freshly awake, moody Ethan. “Would she tell your dad what she did last night with a guy she found at a party? No. You're the younger sibling, it's the same principle.”

“She tells me things.” He sounded almost offended, suddenly forgetting he was about to take a sip of his water.

“Yeah, PG-rated things.”

“I'm eighteen.”

“And? Wait til you're 21 to brag about your age.”

He shook his head slightly, wiping his mouth with his wrist. “You're not even 21 yet.”

“Do you see me flexing about my age? No.”

Ethan let out a sigh, probably tired of your shit already and grabbed his pillow, laying his head down on it again. You felt your face fall as your features softened. Maybe you were a little too harsh on him. You stared, because he was probably the most beautiful guy you'd met. The dark circles under his eyes were noticeable, pale skin almost translucent.

He was worried, and him being worried made you worried, so… that was inconvenient. Richie left Modesto with Sam the day before, and while you trusted him to man the fuck up and make things go as planned, Ethan didn't.

“He's gonna be alright, Eth.” You reassured him.

“Why did we come here?” He mumbled, your heart twinging at his small sniff of him. You should've brought the extra blankets…

You delicately caressed his cheek, his eyes surrendering to your apologetic touch. You felt more confident in fondling his skin and feeling the warmth beneath your fingertips. If you could just… Your thumb brushed over his lower lip before you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his soft forehead.

“Quinn's supposed to be with me, so I can't be home or your dad will suspect she lied. And as for you…” You paused, and Ethan's lips began to twitch into a wide smile, eliciting a chuckle from you. “Consider it a favor, you never go out.”

“Oh, yeah?” He teased, his eyes lazily opening. “That's sweet.”

“Never sweeter than you, baby girl.” You caressed his lower lip, his eyes rolling as he pushed your hand away. “You're mean to me.” You showed him a pout, and he just shook his head.

“Deal with it.”

You tugged at his blanket to discover part of his chest, getting a frown you completely ignored when you turned around, showing him your back. Quinn was a few cars away from you, but far enough so you couldn't hear or know what was going in there.

You almost winced. Not like you wanted to know. Apparently this was a popular place for people to come and hook up. You were just closing your eyes and hoping you wouldn't hear anything. Even finding a racoon would probably be better than that shit.

"It would probably be uncomfortable." Ethan mused after a while, and you got on your side to frown at him.

"Are we still discussing this?" Your smile immediately faded at his raised eyebrows. "Uhm— It's cold, they'd freeze."

"Not big enough to move."

"What if a fox saw the lights and started scratching the door in the middle of it?" Ethan frowned before the two of you chuckled. At least you were making him laugh now. You were a bad friend.

"If there's not a blanket under them, it'll hurt their backs." You didn't give it much thought before nodding in agreement, eyes slowly drifting downwards to look at the blanket beneath the two of you. The idea that popped up in your head scared you. He was telling you this because… Lifting your chin again, Ethan's gaze met yours, and next thing you knew, he leaned in, kissing you.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands finding his hair and playing with it while he stretched his arm to grab his pillow. His arms wrapped around your waist to have support of your body and lay your head on the pillow, your back pressing against the fuzzy blanket. His thighs straddled your legs. “Is this okay?” He breathed out, looking down at you, but he didn't seem to have any intention of stopping.

You answered by firmly pressing your lips onto his again. Ethan grunted into the kiss, returning it like his life depended on it. His body was so soft and comfortable against yours, you barely felt any pain when he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, but it was still uncomfortable. “Eth, my hair…” He stopped, noticing his arms pressing down on your hair.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” He quickly apologized, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I'll be if you keep going.” He nodded, obeying. Your thoughts weren't the clearest thing at the moment. You wanted this so much and you had been wanting it for a long time, the feeling was similar to being high. Even better. This was it. You had him. He had you. You lost yourself in all the caressing, mind clouding with the feeling of him, the touch of his fingertips on your neck and his big hand wrapping around your susceptible throat as he kissed you.

His body weight on yours was taking the air out of your lungs, but the feeling of being helpless only helped increase the violent hammering of your heart inside your ribcage. You adored him. Every single inch of him. You were panting, the heat all the pillows and blankets around the two of you were providing making you sweat badly.

You helped him pull his black hoodie over his head, his bare arms squeezing you against him immediately after. "I'll take care of you, okay? Just relax." He kissed the corner of your mouth, lips trailing down to press gentle kisses onto your neck. You threw your head back, Quinn's pink knit sweater just lying there in the driver's seat, making your mouth go dry.

Why did she leave it there? As a reminder? A reminder that the two of you shouldn't be doing anything weird because you were just friends? Because the person who was kissing your neck right now was your best friend's younger brother? No, you were just being paranoid. That was straight up fucking schizophrenic.

"You're not letting me lay you down." He uttered in a low, guttural tone. You glared at his words.

"Because I'm comfortable like this."

"With your elbows flexing like that?" He withdrew his mouth from your neck, staring up at you, out of breath. "Really?"

"Are you mad at me right now?" You inquired. Ethan looked away before starting to get up. "Can you please not—"

"No."

"What did I do!?"

"Nothing," he snarled. You sighed as he offered his hands to help you up. Taking them, you brought your legs to your chest awkwardly. It was clear he wanted answers with how he stared at you, and he knew you too well to lie to him. "What's wrong?"

"It doesn't... feel right." You choked out, glaring up at his face, and wishing he would understand. Ethan looked taken aback but quickly recovered.

"This doesn't feel right?"

"Yeah."

"Is it because of me?" He asked, and the look you gave him was offended.

"No, of course not. But you're Quinn's—"

"Brother, yeah. She doesn't care." His eyes narrowed. Was he fucking mocking you right now?

"How do you know?"

"It's Quinn."

"Don't be saying that about my best friend.”

Ethan's jaw clenched, it took him a moment to collect himself before he looked away from your face, exhaling the breath he was holding. “Alright.”

“Alright.” You agreed.

The two of you fell silent, focusing anywhere else that wasn't each other. Ethan fidgeted with the blanket, eyes on your phone laying next to the candy bowl. You stared at the rings wrapped around your fingers, chewing on your lip. You had to get up— you knew that. One of the two of you would eventually have to.

This was the smartest decision, and yet you felt empty. Like you had just closed the door that led to the single thing you had dreamt about for years but weren't able to get. It was alright, you tried to tell yourself. You had a friendship to keep. A great one.

Ethan knew the good and bad parts of you. He had seen you at your lowest, and he still stayed. Why? Because he was your friend. Your best friend. The one boy you had shared everything with. But if that was true, then why was there a difference in what you felt toward Richie and Ethan? Richie was your friend, and Ethan was... something more.

Your chest caved and squeezed your heart as you sighed. The little sound caught the brunet’s attention, prompting you to look up at his zealous face too. It took two seconds of eye contact for the two of you to start making out. Again. You rolled on the blanket a few times, almost dislodging the Christmas lights with how much the two of you were moving. You were on top when Ethan pushed your shoulders, his face scrunched up.

“This is wrong.”

You breathed heavily, confused. “What? Why?”

“I should be taking you to a hotel.” His grip on your shirt tightened, but he looked more mad at himself than at you as he tried to catch his breath. “For starters.”

“Oh my god, Ethan! Why would you—”

“Listen to me.” He demanded. His hands slid from your waist to your cheek, cupping your face in his hands. “We don't even have—”

“I'm on the pill.” You spoke over him. He paused, but he didn't look phased at all.

“That's only 87% effective.” Ethan's lips twitched, displeased, confusing you.

“How do you know that?”

He shook his head, delicately tucking away strands of your hair. “I wanted to be informed when this happened.”

“You were waiting for this to happen!?” The red creeping up to his face made you know you probably came off more panicked than you intended to. Shit.

“Weren't you?” He tried to play it off miserably. You moved away from on top of him, looking around for your missing shirt desperately.

“No. I was just praying every day it wouldn't.”

“Does that mean you—” He hesitated as he swallowed, sitting up. His eyes never left your face, looking vulnerable. Those angel eyes looked so fucking vulnerable you just wanted to hug him. But wasn't this an argument? You had to make up your mind. You found your shirt, but you didn't even care anymore. “Is this a one night stand? I mean— Are we doing this just because we feel like It, or is this your way to say you love me back?”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Fuck, no… “Put your hoodie on.” You groaned, and Ethan looked away from you frustratedly

The only reason you weren't answering him was because you were scared. This wasn't supposed to happen, at least not that soon…

“I do love you, Ethan.” The words just slipped out of your lips, surprising both of you. He raised his head, making sure you weren't joking. “And I don't want to break your heart.”

“You will if we keep living like this.” He admitted. “What's stopping you?”

You tried to not look down, you really did, but you were too much of a coward to not start playing with your rings. “Honestly? It's too messy. I don't want things to get weird with Quinn—”

“She doesn't care, Y/N.” He interjected, and you closed your eyes in frustration. That's what he always said, but you couldn't know for sure. You didn't want to find out. “If anything, I think she would be happy you chose someone she approves of.”

“I'm gonna fuck up my relationship with Quinn if this goes wrong…” You rubbed your temples, but looked up at the silence coming from him. He looked tense, like he was about to burst out the car and murder the first person he saw. You moved away slightly, contemplating.

You'd go to hell if you admitted out loud you found that attitude of his… enticing. He let out a breath when he saw you crawling towards him. His arms snaked around you, holding you close and lifting you slightly to move you onto his lap. “Don't be mad.”

“I'm not.” He crooned, you winced slightly as his nose pressed into the curve of your bare neck, next to your bra strap. He took in a deep breath.

“Sure.” You gripped the back of his black tank top, trying to relax. “You'll be wrinkled all over by the time you're 40 if you keep frowning.”

“I'm not mad at you, Y/N.” He repeated, he looked honest as his watery eyes met yours. Why did he look like he wanted to cry?

“And that's it?” You questioned. “I'm supposed to calm down because you told me it'd be okay?”

“Am I lying? Quinn's gonna be happy for us, I know that. But if you don't feel ready… then we can hide it.” He nodded solemnly, you raised an eyebrow.

“So, what? Am I like your lover now?”

“No.” He cringed, you let out a chuckle as he stopped caressing you. “That's not what I meant— We can just stay low for now. Not tell anyone about us.”

He waited, and after a moment of pondering, you sighed. You just had to look for the right moment to tell Quinn. You'd be more prepared by then. “Okay.”

Ethan's lips parted, curls wiggling as he nodded. You didn't know why he was like this, but you had to calm him down. You always had to. Ethan was aggressive, that was obvious. But he also used to be so sensitive.

“It's alright, Eth. It's alright…” You grabbed his face, staring at his big expressive eyes before pressing your mouth on his tenderly. Ethan muttered a "thank you" before slowly burying his face into your neck again. You felt his soft eyelashes against your skin as he closed his eyes, arms squeezing your waist.

[diamondzoey]

Raine: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it.

Keres: …I was hungry.

—————————————————————————-

Bloodmoon!Azren: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Bloodmoon!Jemma: I wrote you a poem.

Bloodmoon!Azren, already crying: You did?

—————————————————————————

Chester : *About to do something incredibly stupid*

Nash : I know I can't stop you, but I won't let you go by yourself.

—————————————————————————

Sammy, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY!

Calamity, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

—————————————————————————-

Malachi: :)

Vincent : >:(

Malachi: Turn that frown upside down!

Vincent : ):<

Malachi: Not sure what I was expecting...

—————————————————————————-

Lucy , bleeding out on the ground: Blood loss? No, I know exactly where it is.

—————————————————————————-

Nash : Hey, check out my Spongebob umbrella!

*Nash opens their umbrella while indoors*

Emerald : Nash , that’s bad luck…

Nash : Chill out, Emerald !

God!Chester, kicking down the door: WHO SUMMONED ME?!?!

Nash and Emerald : *screams*

—————————————————————————-

Sorcerer: I give you a cursed amulet!

Vincent : Cool! It’ll make me look cute, and the shadow that follows me will make me more active, I’ll get out more!

—————————————————————————-

Emerald : Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

—————————————————————————-

Vincent : I didn’t know that air fryers are a real thing. Used to think that they were made up by the internet as a funny joke and that their purpose was to “fry air”.

Sammy: WAIT, BUT IT FRIES THE AIR TO FRY THE FOOD??

Vincent : I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS A KITCHEN APPLIANCE, MY FIRST ASSUMPTION WAS SOMETHING AKIN TO AN AIR CONDITIONER!

Ulysses: IT’S NOT LIKE AN AIR CONDITIONER????

Amber: You guys clearly don’t own an air fryer.

—————————————————————————-

Vincent : I just drank a lego piece.

Victor: ...what the hell?! You melted plastic and drank the liquid?

Vincent : Yes.

Victor : Why did you even melt a lego in the first place?!

Vincent : Because it looked like chocolate! So I drank it! You know, like a chocolate shake?

—————————————————————————-

Amber: Guys… the principal just called—

Joan: It was Adriana !

Adriana : It was Azren!

Azren: It was Durate !

Durate : It was me!

—————————————————————————-

Marco : I have a bad feeling about this, guys.

Adriana : Oh don’t worry, you’ll be fine.

Calix: Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?

Marco , being bailed out of jail the next morning: I hate you all.

—————————————————————————-

Sammy: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!

Calix: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

—————————————————————————-

Lamia : When did you become a hero?

Calamity: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed.

Lamia : You’re the last person on earth I wanted to rescue me.

Calamity: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

—————————————————————————-

Jemma: I love you.

Azren : I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.

*Jemma and Azren kiss passionately*

Vincent , to Easton: You owe me 20 dollars.

—————————————————————————-

Duarte : Good news!

Calix: You found where I hid your phone?

Duarte : ...

Calix: You found your phone?

————————————————————-

Bugs in this

Raine- @willowve01

Keres- @gatorboys22

Azren/Calamity- @strayharmony943

Chester- @not-5-rats

Nash- @lightdragon789

Sammy- @ccstiles

Malachi- @stxph-artist

Vincent/Victor- @littlesiren79

Amber- @astralbulldragon13

Adriana- @idontevenknow7878

Joan- @rustycopper4use

Jemma/Lamia- @diamondzoey (me :3)

Calix- @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid

Emerald- @aspenm00n

Ulysses- @lunaritychuwolf

Lucy- @castbracelet240

Marco- @magebunkshelf

Durate- @puffin-smoke

[jambrainrot]

Prompt: Jam having an affair knowing they both have partners but are too in love to not give in. Secret meet ups and angst, with a hopeful ending

Pairing: Jacob/Sam

Tags: infidelity (with each other), secret hookups, angst, hopeful ending

Warnings: nsfw - descriptions of sex (slightly graphic)

Rating: M

Sam couldn’t stop watching Jacob’s hands. They were elegant things, such long fingers, currently wrapped around a paper coffee cup as they ran lines in his trailer. Every time those fingers twitched, Sam’s stomach did a funny little flip that had nothing to do with the four shots of espresso he’d downed since dawn.

”...and then Louis says—” Jacob paused, his British accent softening as he frowned at the script. “Mate, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

“Course I have,” Sam lied, his Australian drawl thicker with exhaustion. Three AM calls were a bitch, but vampire shows didn’t shoot themselves. “Something about Louis being a whiny git again?”

Jacob threw a wadded-up piece of paper at his head. “Piss off. Some of us take our eternal angst seriously.”

Sam caught the paper with ease – vampire reflexes coming in handy off-screen – and found himself grinning. These early morning sessions had become their thing. Just them, no PAs hovering, no directors barking orders. No girlfriend texting about dinner plans. No mentions of Jacob’s wife and kids back in London.

Just them.

“Your eternal angst is what pays the bills, darling.” The endearment slipped out before he could catch it. Sam watched Jacob’s face carefully, but his costar just smiled that devastating smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Christ, he was in trouble.

******

The jealousy hit hardest during press tours. Sam would watch Jacob charm interviewer after interviewer, all proper British manners and quick wit, while Sam sat beside him feeling like he was burning alive.

“And how’s the family?” some peppy person would inevitably ask.

“Lovely, absolutely lovely,” Jacob would beam, pulling out his phone to show off pictures of one of his daughter’s drawings. “My oldest is quite the artist.”

The interviewers would always coo and if they were British, mention how they knew his wife and loved her. Everyone fucking loved The Andersons. A big happy family.

Sam’s knuckles would go white on his armrest, that familiar acid churning in his gut. He’d paste on his media smile and think about his girlfriend, a sweet woman who deserved better than a partner who couldn’t stop falling for his bloody costar.

******

“What’s wrong with you?” Jacob’s voice cut through the stale hotel air later that night. After all the interviews were done, he sat in silence throughout their dinner.

“Nothing.” Sam’s shrug was automatic. The kind that fools exactly no one.

“Really?”

The word ‘no’ stuck in Sam’s throat. “Yes,” he lied, and hated himself for it.

“You went cold after all of our interviews.”

Sam wanted to scream. The pressure had been building all day, and now it burst. “Oh I don’t know. You couldn’t wait to bring them up and throw it in my face? I looked like a fool!”

Jacob’s face twisted, and for a moment—just a moment—Sam saw something there that scared him more than any mirror ever had. “That isn’t unhealthy thinking, Sam. Why would I mention my family to hurt you? The fact that it even hurts you is a problem. The fact that you pouted for hours over it is a problem.”

“Don’t do that,” Sam shook his head. “Don’t make me out to be a crazy person.” But crazy was what this felt like. His heart hammered. His skin crawled. The room felt too small.

“If the shoe fits—”

“If I’m crazy then so are you,” Sam said, and now the truth was coming out whether they wanted it or not. “We’re staying in a hotel room with one bed. You’re wearing my fucking shirt and you have the nerve to argue with me about this.” His hands were shaking. When had they started shaking?

Jacob went still. “Friends sleep in the same bed and share clothes all the time.”

The lie sat there between them. Sure, some friends earnestly do that and great for those people. But friends don’t tell intimacy coordinators to fuck off and shove their tongue down each other’s throats during rehearsals for “realism”.

The silence that followed was the worst kind. Sam could hear his own heartbeat, could hear the ancient air conditioner wheeze in the corner, could hear everything except the words they both needed to say.

The hotel room seemed smaller now. One bed. One fucking bed, with its cheap floral comforter and yellowing sheets. Sam wondered if madness was catching. The truth was there in the wrinkles of his shirt on Jacob’s back, in the way they’d been dancing around each other for months, in every casual touch that lingered too long. It was there in the single bed they’d both agreed to share without discussion, as if any other arrangement would have been unthinkable.

But neither of them was ready to say it out loud. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But they aren’t vampires, they don’t have forever.

“You know what?” Sam turned away, running both hands through his hair. His reflection caught his eye in the mirror above the dresser—pale face, dark circles under his eyes. He looked exactly as crazy as Jacob thought he was. “I need some air.”

“It’s midnight.” Jacob stepped forward. His bare feet made no sound on the thin carpet.

“I don’t care.”

“Sam—”

“Don’t.” Sam grabbed his jacket from the chair. His wallet was still in the pocket. Good. He could find another hotel. One with two beds, or better yet, just a room for himself where he didn’t have to think about Jacob sleeping three inches away. Even now when he wanted nothing more to get away from Jacob, he still wanted him close all the same.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Jacob’s voice had that edge to it now, the one that meant he was losing control of the situation. Good. Let him feel what it was like for once.

Sam’s hand closed around the doorknob. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one who can’t admit what’s really going on here.”

“And what exactly is that?”

Sam turned back. Jacob stood in the center of the room, wearing Sam’s faded grey t-shirt like it belonged to him. Like everything between them was normal. Like they weren’t both losing their minds in this too-small room with its too-small bed.

“You know what? Figure it out yourself.” Sam yanked the door open. “I’m done playing whatever game this is.”

“Sam, wait—” Jacob’s voice cracked. Actually cracked. In all the years they’d known each other, Sam had never heard that sound come out of Jacob’s mouth.

He hesitated in the doorway. The fluorescent lights in the hallway hummed, casting strange shadows. A couple argued in muffled voices three doors down.

“Just...” Jacob swallowed hard enough that Sam could hear it. “Just don’t go. Please.”

That ‘please’ hung in the air between them. Sam’s hand tightened on the doorknob until his knuckles went white. The smart thing would be to walk away. To end whatever this was before it destroyed them both.

But Sam had never been good at doing the smart thing. Not when it came to Jacob.

He closed the door.

Neither of them moved at first. The air conditioner clicked off, leaving them in sudden silence.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said finally. “About the interview. About this. About—” He gestured vaguely at the space between them.

“No, I’m sorry,” Jacob took a step forward. “You were right. I shouldn’t have brought them up. Not like that.”

Another step. They were close now, close enough that Sam could see the threads coming loose on the collar of his shirt—his shirt—where Jacob had been worrying at them all evening.

“I just—” Sam started, but he never finished. Jacob moved first, pulling him into a hug.

Sam’s arms went around Jacob’s back. He could feel Jacob’s heart hammering against his chest, or maybe that was his own. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the solid warmth of Jacob against him, the familiar smell of hotel shampoo in Jacob’s hair.

They stood like that for a long time. Too long for friends, probably. Sam’s throat felt tight. He should let go. He needed to let go.

He didn’t let go.

Neither did Jacob.

When they finally broke apart, neither of them quite met the other’s eyes. Jacob cleared his throat. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah.”

They went through their nighttime routine in silence. Sam brushed his teeth while Jacob changed. Jacob washed his face while Sam got into bed. The familiar dance of two people sharing a space, pretending everything was normal.

The mattress dipped as Jacob slid under the covers. For a moment they both lay there, careful not to touch.

Then Jacob shifted slightly, and his shoulder pressed against Sam’s. Neither of them moved away.

Sam stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to Jacob’s breathing even out. Sleep pulled at him, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. Every point of contact between them burned like a question mark.

Just before he drifted off, he felt Jacob’s hand brush against his. An accident, maybe. Probably.

But their fingers stayed touching until morning.

******

“You can’t look at me like that during scenes,” Jacob muttered one day between takes. They were filming a particularly intense confrontation between Lestat and Louis, all barely contained violence and centuries of want.

“Like what?” Sam whispered, aware of the crew bustling around them.

“Like you want to devour me,” Jacob’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “People will notice.”

Sam stepped closer, close enough to catch the scent of Jacob’s lotin. “Maybe I do want to devour you.”

“Sam...” Warning and want tangled in those three letters.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too.” His hand found Jacob’s wrist, thumb pressing against his pulse point. Racing. Like his. “Tell me I’m imagining this.”

Jacob didn’t pull away. “You know I can’t.”

“Your wife called the set earlier,” Sam said, remembering.

“Don’t.”

“Can’t help it. Drives me mental, thinking about you going home to her.”

Jacob’s laugh was hollow. “And what about your girlfriend? Should we talk about how you spent all weekend playing house?”

“That’s different—”

“Is it?” Jacob finally jerked his hand away. “Because from where I’m standing, we’re both bastards who can’t have what we want.”

“What do you want, Jacob?” Sam was desperate. “Tell me what you want.”

Rolin called for places before Jacob could answer. But later, in the dark of Sam’s trailer, Jacob showed him exactly what he wanted. And if Sam held him a little too tight, marked him a little too high on his neck, well... possession was a vampire thing, wasn’t it?

They didn’t fuck that night. They sucked each other off like teenagers hiding from their parents, giggled afterwards and somehow that made it worse. If it was just sex then it would be different.

But this is more, much more.

*******

“You’re different with him,” his girlfriend said one night over dinner. She wasn’t accusing, just observing in that quiet way of hers.

“Who?”

���Jacob. You’re... intense. When he’s around, it’s like nothing else exists.”

Sam stabbed at his pasta. “He’s my costar. We have to have chemistry.”

“Is that all it is?”

The lie stuck in his throat. Because how could he explain that Jacob had somehow become as essential as breathing? That every scene together felt like flying and drowning at once? That he’d started measuring time in moments with Jacob and moments without?

“’Course that’s all it is,” he said instead, and pretended not to see the knowing look in her eyes.

******

“We can’t keep doing this,” Jacob would say, even as he pressed Sam against the wall of whatever hidden corner they’d found.

“We can’t stop either,” Sam would answer, and then there would be no more words, just desperate hands and stolen kisses and the weight of everything they couldn’t have.

But they did have this – secret moments carved out of impossible circumstances. Heated looks across crowded rooms. Inside jokes and private smiles and touches that lingered too long to be casual.

When they finally fucked, Sam’s cock shoved deep inside Jacob, they gasped — overwhelmed, but somehow still trying to get closer, breathes mingled together.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

********

The problem with playing vampires was that it bled into real life. Sam found himself watching Jacob with a predator’s eyes, tracking his movements across set, across rooms, across the whole bloody world. He memorized Jacob’s schedule like it was his own personal scripture – 5 AM makeup call, coffee (black, two sugars) at 5:30, phone call to the kids at their breakfast time in London.

“You’re doing it again,” Jacob said during their lunch break, not looking up from his script.

“Doing what?”

“That thing where you glare at anyone who comes within three feet of me.” Jacob’s lips twitched. “Poor Travis is convinced you actually hate him.”

Travis was their new PA, fresh-faced and eager, who looked at Jacob like he hung the moon. Sam’s jaw clenched.

“Travis needs to learn about professional boundaries.”

“Says the man who had his hand down my pants in my trailer yesterday?”

“That’s different,” Sam said, leaning closer. “You’re mine.”

The words hung between them, dangerous and true. Jacob’s eyes darkened, but before he could respond, his phone buzzed. His wife’s face lit up the screen.

Sam pushed away from the table, chair scraping against concrete. “Take it. Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Sam—”

But he was already walking away, hands shoved in his pockets, the taste of jealousy bitter on his tongue.

******

“Do you ever feel guilty?” Sam asked one night. They were tangled in his hotel room sheets, Jacob’s head on his chest, both pretending morning would never come.

“Every bloody second,” Jacob murmured against his skin. “But not enough to stop.”

Sam’s arms tightened around him. “Your daughters...”

“Don’t,” Jacob said sharply. “We agreed not to talk about them.”

“Or my girlfriend.”

“Or your girlfriend.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with things unsaid. Finally, Jacob propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at Sam with those eyes that had haunted him since their first screen test.

“Do you know what scares me most?” Jacob traced Sam’s collarbone with one finger. “That I’m starting to forget why this is wrong. When I’m with you, everything else just... fades.”

Sam caught his hand, pressed a kiss to his palm. “Maybe that means something.”

“Maybe it means we’re selfish bastards who can’t keep it in our pants.”

“Maybe.” Sam rolled them over, pinning Jacob beneath him. They were both hard again, their bodies desperate to slide together like a missing puzzle piece. “Or maybe it means this is worth fighting for.”

Jacob’s laugh was soft and sad. “What exactly are we fighting for, Sam? The chance to destroy our families? Our careers?”

“Us,” Sam pressed their foreheads together. “Just us.”

*******

The cast party was a mistake. Sam knew it the moment he saw Jacob walk in with his wife on his arm, both of them picture-perfect. She was lovely, of course she was, all classic English beauty and genuine warmth. The kind of woman who made everyone feel at ease.

Sam hated her with such a passion that it scared him. He’s never loathed someone so much before and he has a lot of contenders of his all time hate list.

But shamelessly he wasn’t new to something like this. The past whispered rumors on set and online, the careful way certain crew members looked at them both. Jacob wasn’t his first.

The world was cruel to queer men—Sam had figured that out young, back when he was still doing theater in London. He had several affairs with men - most married, others just young and trying to figure themselves out like Sam was and some even asked for a more serious relationship. Which he always laughed off and left a trail of broken hearts (with women too) once he moved back to Australia permanently. No one was good enough for him in London. At least none he would ruin his career over. He’d watched talented actors fade into straight-passing roles, seen promising careers die after poorly-timed revelations. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t hide, wouldn’t live that way.

But here he was. Karma was waiting for him it seemed. To come out now would be a media circus. Two leads from the same show—the press would be rabid. Their faces splashed across every tabloid, their families hounded, their careers picked apart. And Jacob... Jacob had so much more to lose. A black queer man with a wife. Two kids who drew him pictures between takes. A career built on being loved.

Sam couldn’t ask him to give up everything. Couldn’t be the reason those kids had their world torn apart. Couldn’t handle being the villain in that story, the homewrecker, the scandal.

The thing was, Sam had never meant to fall for him. Jacob was supposed to be just another costar, just another straight actor he’d work with and forget. But then came the late-night rehearsals, the inside jokes, the way Jacob really saw him. Not as the token bisexual character he played, not as someone to be careful around, but just as Sam.

“You’re staring,” his girlfriend murmured, squeezing his arm.

“Just tired, love.” The endearment felt wrong on his tongue now. It belonged to someone else, whispered in dark rooms and heartfelt moments.

He watched Jacob navigate the room, playing the charming family man. Their eyes met across the crowd, and for a moment, the mask slipped. Raw need flashed across Jacob’s face before he looked away. Several minutes went by.

Sam’s phone buzzed.

Storage room. Five minutes

He shouldn’t go. They were both here with their partners. It was too risky.

He went anyway.

Jacob was on him the moment he closed the door, kissing him and stroking his cock through his jeans.

"Couldn't stand it," Jacob gasped between kisses. "Watching you with her. Wanting to touch you. Mark you."

Sam groaned, pushing Jacob against the shelves.

They both quickly started to unbuckle their own belts, shoving their pants down and Jacob turned around, his bare ass looking perfect.

“And what? You think it's easy for me, seeing you play happy family?”

"Nothing about this is easy," Jacob said, panting, as Sam lined up his cock to press inside him. "But I can't-I can't stop."

"Then we don't," Sam bit down on Jacob's neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "We don’t stop."

Jacob's reply was cut short when Sam pushed inside him, their moans muffling.

Later, they'd have to go back to the party. Back to their separate lives and separate beds. But for now, in this dusty storage room with cleaning supplies digging into their backs and the slapping of skin, they had this.

Tomorrow, he'd do the right thing. He'd pull away.

Keep things professional. Stop letting himself hope for something that could never happen. Pretend he's not in love.

But the great thing about tomorrow is that it always comes but never arrives.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Five Ways To Friday (Minsung) 🔞

Synopsis: When Jisung meets the new barista at his favorite coffee shop, he discovers the pretty brunette is good at more than just making coffee

Tags: Smut, face fucking, come play, oral sex

Jisung’s first thought when he walked in to get his 7am coffee that Monday was “Who the hell is that cute barista?” He was lithe and thin like maybe he danced or did a lot of yoga. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he stood over the machine steaming milk for the drink he was making. Jisung got his coffee from this shop 5 days a week before he went to work and he’d never seen this boy before. The boy looked up when he heard the door.

“Be with you in a minute,” he said.

“No problem,” Jisung waited at the counter by the register. It was abnormally quiet. There were only 2 other people in the cafe and the boy working behind the counter. He finished the drink he was working on and called the name of the person who ordered it. The boy came over to the register.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Iced Americano with four shots,” Jisung said.

“Need quite the buzz, huh?” the boy said as he rang up the order.

“Gotta kick start the day somehow,” Jisung replied.

“Moving to the morning shift is killing me. I’ve had more than my share of espresso this morning,” the boy told him. “Name?”

“What?” Jisung asked.

“For the order,” the boy replied.

“Right. Jisung,” he said. He scribbled his name on a cup and Jisung already had the total ready.

“Same thing every day?” the barista said as he took the money.

“Five days a week,” Jisung replied.

“I’ll do my best to remember,” he nodded.

“Thank you, Minho,” Jisung said.

“What?” the boy asked.

“You’re wearing a name tag,” Jisung pointed out.

“Right. It’s still early,” Minho smiled. He was even cuter when he smiled. “Order will be up soon.”

“Thanks,” Jisung went to the other end of the counter to wait. This guy was cute. Really cute. He stopped himself right there. He’d kicked his latest conquest out of his apartment at 5am. Picking up a guy on a Sunday night was bad idea to begin with and he’d only been a decent fuck. At least he didn’t have a way to get in touch with him again so Jisung wouldn’t have to brush him off. That was always the worst part. Even if he told them it was a one time thing, some of them still didn’t get it. If this guy worked at his favorite coffee shop and had taken over the morning shift then he definitely couldn’t screw it up. Which meant no screwing him.

“Here you go,” Minho put Jisung’s drink on the counter. “I gave you an extra shot for free.”

“Umm, thanks,” he said.

“You look like you could use the boost,” Minho smiled. Why did he have to smile? Why couldn’t he be grumpy about being on the morning shift?

“Is this your new shift?” Jisung took a sip of his drink.

“Yup, 5am to noon. Then I get to spend my afternoons in class. Sleep is for the weak,” he laughed a little.

“You’re in school?” Jisung queried.

“I just graduated university and now I’m working on my Master’s in health science. I want to be a nutritionist for dancers,” Minho replied.

“That’s specific,” Jisung said.

“Dance is my passion and I want to help dancers stay healthy,” Minho told him.

“That’s funny because I work right next to the university,” Jisung said.

“What a coincidence,” Minho said.

“Agreed,” Jisung replied.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.

“Five days a week,” Jisung grinned.

“Looking forward to it,” Minho said.

“Have a good day,” Jisung raised his cup.

“You too,” Minho replied.

Jisung tried to shake the memory of Minho’s smile out of his head as he walked. Maybe he already had a boyfriend. But he’d been flirting with him. Right? Or was it just lack of sleep and lack of caffeine talking? Jisung was in the studio before he even realized it. Something about Minho stuck with him. Jisung couldn’t put his finger on it and it was driving him crazy.

The rest of the week, Minho and Jisung had pleasant conversations as Minho made Jisung’s coffee. Minho was still sneaking an extra shot in there for him. When Jisung picked up his cup on Friday morning, he saw something else written on it under his name. It was a phone number. He looked up at Minho who had just started making another drink.

“Text me,” he mouthed. That erased any doubt in Jisung’s mind that Minho had been flirting with him. Jisung spent all day debating whether or not to do it. If he’d taken the time to give Jisung his number then Jisung should at least say something. He finally worked up the balls to text him after he left work.

Jisung: Hey, it’s Jisung.

Minho: Hi Jisung.

Now what? He picked up guys who were half drunk in bars. He had no idea what to say next.

Minho: Are you hungry? I’m about ready to chew off my own arm.

Jisung: I could eat. I’ll need to go home & change first.

Minho: I need a shower. Just got out of my last class. Meet for dinner after?

Had he just asked him out on a date? Jisung was telling himself not to panic.

Jisung: Sure. Any suggestions?

Minho: There’s this great pizza place near campus. You do like pizza, right?

Jisung: I’m suspicious of people who don’t.

Minho: LOL perfect. [address sent]

Minho: Text when you’re changed?

Jisung: And ready to leave, I assume?

Minho: That was implied.

Jisung knew it definitely wasn’t.

Jisung: I’ll text you when I’m ready to leave.

Minho: Perfect. See you soon.

Jisung: You too.

He was going on a date. Not some random hookup. An actual legitimate date. And the thought terrified him.

Jisung got there before Minho did. The place was packed and the only table was a small booth toward the back of the restaurant. Jisung was about to text Minho asking where he was when he slid into the booth next to him.

“Sorry I’m late. Ran into one of my students on the way out and she can be a talker,” he said.

“No problem. One of my coworkers is like that,” Jisung replied. Minho sat so close to him that their thighs and arms were brushing each other. There was enough space in the booth for someone Minho’s size to give Jisung a little more personal space. Jisung wanted to slide away from him, but he didn’t want to offend him. Not offend him, but not get too comfortable.

“I normally just get pepperoni. I’m pretty boring,” Minho told Jisung.

“Not boring, just simple tastes,” Jisung replied. Minho smiled and laughed a little. Jisung almost forgot how uncomfortable he was when he looked at Minho’s smile. The server came over and took their order. He was quickly back with 2 beers.

“I don’t usually drink beer, but I feel like it goes with pizza. Like an egg and cheese biscuit goes with coffee,” Minho said.

“Egg and cheese biscuit?” Jisung asked.

“That’s what I always have on my break. I don’t really like sweet pastries,” Minho shrugged.

“Then I’ll take the pastries you don’t want,” Jisung said.

“Deal,” Minho clinked his glass against Jisung’s. The rest of dinner went well with idle conversation about work and school. When they got up to leave, Minho held out his hand to help Jisung out of the booth. Jisung hesitated, then took it. He finally got a good look at what Minho was wearing. Mostly from the waist down. He was wearing dark skinny jeans and ankle boots. He had on a fitted t-shirt that showed off the outline of his well sculpted upper body. Minho didn’t let go of Jisung’s hand once he stood up. Jisung wanted to let go, but stopped himself. Minho simply smiled at him as they walked out. Once they were outside and out of foot traffic, Minho weaved his fingers through Jisung’s and turned to face him. Jisung’s heart was in his throat. First sitting close to him in the booth, now holding his hand, what was next? Kissing? In public? He’d never done that before. He’d never done any of it before.

“Why are you so anxious?” Minho asked.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while and I really like that coffee shop,” It was half true. He’d never been on an actual date since he was old enough to date.

“I won’t hold it against you if this date doesn’t go perfectly,” Minho replied. “I’ll still do my job.”

“How did you want it to end?” Jisung swallowed hard.

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you,” Minho stepped closer to him. Jisung could feel the heat of Minho’s body against his and his breath on his face. He could kiss him in public. People did it all the time. He’d be fine. Jisung awkwardly lowered his chin and pressed his lips against Minho’s. Minho let go of Jisung’s hands and put his arms around Jisung’s shoulders. This wasn’t so bad. He enjoyed the kiss. He still felt stiff and unnatural, but he could feel the hint of a deeper desire. One that he’d be tempted to take advantage of behind closed doors.

“How do you want this to end?” Minho whispered when they parted.

“I’d like to start somewhere more private,” Jisung replied.

“My place is just around the corner,” Minho told him.

“I’m not the kind of guy to invite myself over…” Jisung began.

“I’m inviting you,” Minho said. He took Jisung’s hand again and led him down the sidewalk. Jisung willed himself to close his fingers around Minho’s hand. Why did it feel so awkward just holding hands? People did it all the time. It wasn’t weird. That didn’t change the fact it felt alien to him. Minho held his hand all the way until he had to get his keys out to get into his apartment. Jisung was relieved to let go. He was also relieved that they were about to be alone.

“So what are you into?” Minho asked.

“What do you mean?” Jisung raised an eyebrow.

“What gets you off? What will you do behind closed doors?” That certainly cut to the chase.

“I like to be used. I like for my partner to use me like a toy,” Jisung replied, wrapping his hands around Minho’s skinny waist.

“Aren’t you lucky? I like to use my partners. I like to make them into nothing more than a desperate hole. And then I like to fuck them,” Minho kissed him. This time it was much harder and deeper than outside. He hooked his fingers in Jisung’s belt loops and pulled Jisung into him. “You want me to use you?”

“I would love for you to use me,” Jisung replied.

“Go sit on the couch,” Minho nodded in that direction. Jisung dutifully sat while Minho still stood in front of him. He lifted up his shirt a little, revealing the lower part of his perfectly toned stomach. Jisung was practically drooling.

“You want some of this?” Minho teased his shirt a little higher.

“Yes,” Jisung squeaked. Minho straddled Jisung, but stayed up on his knees. Jisung started eagerly kissing and licking under Minho’s belly button. Minho folded his shirt up and put his hands on Jisung’s shoulders. Jisung started sucking a hickey directly below Minho’s belly button.

“Don’t you want what’s below there? I think you do,” Minho moved his hand from Jisung’s shoulder to his hair. Jisung opened Minho’s jeans and pulled down his underwear. His cock brushed against Jisung’s chin, the tip wet with precome. Jisung wrapped his lips around the tip and gave it a long lick. Minho dropped his head back and moaned. He pushed his dick further into Jisung’s mouth and Jisung took it. Jisung used all of his tongue to lick the underside. Minho bucked his hips and thrust into Jisung’s mouth. Minho tightened his grip on Jisung’s hair. He started slowly undulating his hips and working his cock in Jisung’s mouth against his tongue.

“Are you gonna let me fuck your mouth? I strongly suggest you say yes,” Jisung looked up at him and relaxed his jaw.

“I thought so,” Minho grinned down at him. Minho adjusted his hand in Jisung’s hair and started thrusting hard into his mouth. It was hot and wet against his cock. Minho fucked him harder, groaning as his dick grazed against Jisung’s teeth. Jisung had a solid grip on his ass, though Minho wasn’t going anywhere because he still had his pants on. He slowed down and started bucking his hips up, rubbing the tip of his cock against the roof of Jisung’s mouth. Jisung relaxed his jaw even more.

“I’m gonna come so fucking hard. I hope you’re ready,” he breathed. Jisung did his best to nod. Minho put his other hand in Jisung’s hair and pounded into his mouth. He felt his orgasm build from deep between his hips. He held Jisung’s head in place as he came. He thrust into him as Jisung drank down all of his come. Minho let go of Jisung’s hair and leaned on the top of his head when he finished. Jisung still held Minho’s softening cock in his mouth.

“You can move,” Minho panted. Jisung leaned his head back and held Minho up by his shoulders.

“Was I a good enough hole?” Jisung asked.

“Very,” Minho replied. “I’ll fuck that perfect ass of yours soon.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to touch this beautiful body of yours,” Jisung told him. “If that suits you.”

“By all means,” Minho stretched out on the couch as Jisung undressed him then undressed himself.

“I might even be able to wake you up again,” Jisung whispered when he got on top of him.

“Good luck,” Minho replied.

“I don’t need luck,” Jisung smirked.

“Oh fuck,” Minho arched his back against the couch as Jisung massaged one of his nipples and played with the other with the tip of his tongue. Jisung had spent the last half an hour licking, sucking, nipping, and caressing Minho’s body. He was hard again and panting as Jisung refused to relent on his nipples. Jisung finally picked up his head and looked at Minho.

“Are you ready again?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready. For a needy hole, you sure know how to make me beg,” Minho replied.

“This needy hole is ready to get a cock in his ass,” Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s stomach.

“Get in the bedroom,” Minho ordered.

“Yes sir,” Jisung winked as Minho goaded him toward the bedroom.

“I think I’ll take you on your back. I want to see you,” Minho said.

“See what I look like when you’re fucking me?” Jisung teased.

“Exactly,” Minho agreed. Jisung got on his back and spread his legs. Minho didn’t waste any time opening the other man up. He rolled on the condom, lubed it, and looked down at Jisung.

“I expect you to scream,” Minho said.

“I’ll do my best,” Jisung smiled up at him. Minho braced one hand on the wall and slid his dick into Jisung. Jisung moaned.

“You’re thick,” he purred.

“Thank you,” Minho leaned down to kiss him.

“Why don’t you pound that thick cock into me? Make me want to scream?” Jisung challenged.

“You read my mind,” Minho replied. He started with long, slow strokes. For as much as he slept around, Jisung was surprisingly tight.

“Gonna torture me first?” Jisung asked.

“Maybe,” Minho ran his hand down Jisung’s chest and barely grazed his cock. Jisung moaned louder this time. Minho slowly brushed his index finger across the tip causing Jisung to take more of Minho’s cock.

“Jesus Minho,” Jisung braced his arms against the bed. Minho lightly circled around the head. Jisung started panting and grunting. Minho put his hand down and went back to thrusting into Jisung.

“Don’t stop,” Jisung whined.

“I’ll do what I want to you,” Minho replied. “And right now I want to pound you.”

Minho pounded into him until Jisung stopped writhing under him. Then Minho ran a finger up the underside of Jisung’s dick and teased the bump right under the tip. Jisung keened and balled up his fists in the sheets.

“You want me to finish you? You want me to play with your cock so you can come all over yourself?” Minho stopped to look down at him.

“Yes,” Jisung gasped. Minho took just the tip in his hand and made short quick strokes. Jisung cried out and let a stream of foul language spill out. Minho hit his prostate one last time and Jisung came. He came more on Minho’s hand than his own body. He screamed and writhed as Minho worked him through. Once he finished, Minho held out his hand.

“Clean it,” he said. Jisung dutifully licked his come off Minho’s hand.

“Thank you,” Minho kissed him with no thought that Jisung had just licked come off his hand.

“You’re welcome,” Jisung grinned, fucked out and content. Minho braced both hands on the wall and fucked Jisung as hard as he could. His second orgasm of the night pumped into the condom. Minho bucked his hips against Jisung’s. Minho slid out of Jisung, peeled the condom off, and lied on top of him, sweating like he’d forgotten to turn the air conditioning on. Jisung put one arm across Minho’s back.

“You still alive?” Jisung asked.

“Maybe,” Minho mumbled.

“That was some great fucking,” Jisung observed.

“Yeah,” the other man agreed.

“I’m not the kind of guy to invite myself to spend the night, but…” Jisung looked up at Minho.

“I’m not letting you and your perfect ass go anywhere,” Minho said.

“Okay then,” Jisung laughed.

“Holding hands isn’t so bad after all,” Minho picked up his head.

“Who knew it was decent foreplay?” Jisung kissed him.

“Are you gonna let me hold your hand in public now?” Minho asked.

“We’ll see,” Jisung replied.

“I’ll wear you down,” Minho said.

“I’m pretty stubborn,” Jisung countered.

“I make your coffee,” Minho pointed out.

“Touché,” Jisung smiled.

“I’m going to sleep for a bit,” Minho said.

“I like that plan,” Jisung agreed.

“Wake me up when you’re ready for another round,” Minho yawned.

“Then it’ll be a power nap,” Jisung laughed.

“Good night for now, Jisung,”

“Good night for now, Minho,”

[theangelwithawand]

Good Omens Incorrect Quotes Part 3:

Once again, I did not come up with these, I just have quote generator access…

Crowley : I'm having problems with a guy...

Anathema : Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

*

Crowley : Who the fuck-

Aziraphale : Language!

Crowley : Whom the fuck-

Aziraphale : No.

*

Aziraphale and Crowley : I believe in you, Adam!

Adam, to themself: God, I must suck. The nicest thing they can think to say to me is that they don’t doubt my existence.

*

Aziraphale : There are some things beyond our understanding. We must accept them and learn from them. Because these moments of crisis are also potential moments of faith. A time, when we either come together or fall apart. Nature always has a way of balancing itself. The only question is, what part will we play?

Crowley : Did you just make that up?

Aziraphale : No. I read it in a fortune cookie once.

Crowley :

Aziraphale : A really long fortune cookie.

*

Crowley: Could you maybe just like… stab me… right in the gut. Just REALLY twist it in there. ‘Cause that honestly seems less painful than this conversation.

*

Aziraphale, texting Crowley: Text me when you’re home safely.

Crowley: I’m home dangerously.

Aziraphale: Stop it.

Crowley: I’m home lethally.

*

Gabriel : Pardon the intrusion, but-

Aziraphale or Crowley: On this moment or just my life in general?

*

Aziraphale: Why shouldn't you put a toaster in a bathtub full of water?

Crowley: Because your toast would get soggy!

*

Aziraphale: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!

Crowley: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

*

Crowley, at Nina’s: Can I get a venti vanilla latte with um, seven espresso shots.

Mrs. Sandwich, in line behind them: Jesus Christ, just do cocaine.

*

Crowley, making coffee: This is going to fix everything.

*

Aziraphale: I have very high standards, you know.

Crowley: I can make spaghetti...

Aziraphale: Oh no! You're meeting all my standards!

*

Crowley: You can do it Adam!

Crowley: But if you can't, at least your death will be quick, painless, and really cool to watch.

*

Crowley: *standing on a balcony and sneezes*

Aziraphale: *standing on the roof* Bless you.

Crowley: God?!

*

Crowley: I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

Aziraphale:

Crowley: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure?

Aziraphale: 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&M’s.

*

Aziraphale: Is five a lot of followers?

Crowley: Depends on the context.

Crowley: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers.

Crowley: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

*

Crowley : You know what’s funny about Aziraphale ? They’re my best friend, and anyone who’d hurt them is someone I’d murder, probably.

*

Crowley : Are you busy?

Aziraphale : Yes.

Crowley : Cool, listen to this...

*

Aziraphale or Nina: How would you like your coffee?

Crowley: As dark as my soul.

Aziraphale or Nina: Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

*

Crowley : I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.

Aziraphale: Crowley, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

*

Aziraphale: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this?

Crowley, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

*

Crowley : *trying to get five seconds of sleep*

Aziraphale, poking Crowley ’s arm: Crowley Crowley . Crowley . Crowley .

Crowley : WHAT?

Aziraphale : …We’re out of Capri Suns—

*

Crowley : Valentines Day? I'm ready. *Sprays an entire can of AXE body spray on themselves*

*

Crowley : *makes Aziraphale a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

Aziraphale : *sips tea*

Crowley :

Aziraphale : *finishes tea*

Crowley : Didn't it taste bad?

Aziraphale : Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Crowley, tearing up: Oh, okay.

*

Aziraphale : How petty can you get?

Crowley : I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

*

Aziraphale : Crowley, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.

Crowley : Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

*

Crowley, to The Squad: You should change your passwords to “incorrect”. Then, every time you forget it, the system will remind you, “your password is incorrect”.

*

Aziraphale : Not to brag, but I can go into the Spirit Halloween without crying.

*

Crowley : I wanna sleep for 40 hours.

Aziraphale : You know that's called a coma, right?

Crowley :

Crowley : That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

*

Aziraphale : Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Crowley : I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Aziraphale : But you’re always acting stupid?

Crowley : ...

Crowley : Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

*

Muriel : Hey, aren’t you Aziraphale ?

Aziraphale : You a cop?

Muriel : No.

Aziraphale : Then yes, I am.

*

Aziraphale : Crowley ! Have you no dignity?

Crowley : Of course not! How long have we known each other?

*

Aziraphale : What are you drinking?

Crowley : Vodka.

Aziraphale : Straight?

Crowley : No, gay. Why?

*

Aziraphale : So you like cats?

Crowley : Yeah.

Aziraphale : *tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

*

Cop: You ran a red light.

Crowley : So did you, hypocrite.

Cop: I was following you.

Crowley : That was dumb, I'm a terrible driver.

Cop: Get out.

*

Aziraphale : What is the one thing I told you not to do?

Crowley : Burn the house down.

Aziraphale : And what did you do?

Crowley : I made dinner.

Aziraphale :

Crowley :

Aziraphale :

Crowley : And burnt the house down.

*

Aziraphale : Do you need help getting up?

Crowley : Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

*

Crowley : Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

*

Anathema: At first I thought you were foolish and incompetent.

Crowley : My apologies for whatever misstep I may have taken to dispel that impression. It was an honest mistake, I swear.

*

Aziraphale to Crowley : Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Aziraphale : What are you doing?

Crowley , trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it’s not working .

*

Gabriel: Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?

Crowley: If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Sisyphean (6/6)

(Eldritch!Ace Trappola vs SomeGuy!Deuce Spade. Horror AU heavily based on FROM(2022) and That's Not My Neighbor.)

Sisyphean Masterlist

Deuce jumped just slightly when he heard a knock. He hadn’t heard anyone coming –.

The Doppelganger was standing at the door, smiling at him through the glass, its hands behind its back, looking like the picture of innocence.

Save for, of course, the sharp-toothed smile.

“No,” Deuce said, scowling. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re so cold, you’re gonna hurt a fella’s feelings one day,” it complained.

“Good,” he said flatly.

It huffed. “You try and kill an entire building’s worth of people a few times, and suddenly you’re the bad guy!”

“That is how it works, yes.” Deuce rolled his eyes. “Why are you even here?”

“I stop by all the time! What do you mean?” it said, giving its most innocent smile.

“Yeah, but you haven’t come as… yourself all the other times.”

“But I’m so tired these days,” he lamented, its expression shifting into a little pout. “I’m hungry, and shifting forms all the time is hard.”

Deuce pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. How could this thing be so scary half the time and so lame the other half of the time? “Well, I can’t let you in. You don’t live in this building, and we have a strict no-guest policy. As I’m sure you know, since you’ve never tried posing as someone’s friend to get inside.”

“Yeah…” it sulked. And then it brightened up, finally taking its hands out from behind its back, to reveal a… cup of coffee. “Well, I can still give you this!”

Beep.

Deuce stared, blankly, at the cup of coffee sitting in his mail slot. It had Deuce’s name on it, of course, as well as a couple of tiny hearts doodled on the wrapper.

“... what’s with you and hearts?” Deuce asked, because after the pillow, the cake, and this, he might as well ask why it was Ace’s calling card.

It shrugged, smiling. “I just think they’re kinda funny shapes! I mean, human hearts do not look like that… unless you really need glasses, I guess, but at that point pretty much everything looks like those fake hearts.”

That… checks out, yeah.

Deuce sighed, picking up the cup of coffee, spinning the cup, slowly, in careful fingers, half expecting it to blow up… somehow. “It makes it seem like you’re trying to come onto me.”

“And if I was?” It said, batting its eyelashes.

“No guests in the hotel,” Deuce said, flatly.

“Ugh. You’re no fun.”

“Sorry that getting ripped to shreds isn’t my idea of fun.”

“Like I said. No fun.”

It seemed, though, that he was going to be having even less fun, because, at that moment, a new person showed up. They looked a lot like Ace, with the same bright red hair and eyes, but stockier and dressed in a button down and slacks, as if he had just come from a shift at work. He flung his arm around Ace’s shoulders, leaning his weight on him with a wide grin.

“Is this the Doorman you’ve been obsessed with?” He peered at Deuce, tapping his finger on his chin. “He doesn’t look like much.”

It was hard to tell who was more offended by the man’s statement – Deuce or Ace.

“‘Obsessed’ is not the right word,” Ace snapped at the same time Deuce said, “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

He continued to smile at him, completely unperturbed. “I’m sorry about Ace, I know he’s a lot to handle, thanks for dealing with him.”

The Doppelganger looked mortified, pressing its face into its hands.

Doppelgangers might not have families, not in the way that humans might, but Deuce could spot an ‘older brother’ type from a mile away.

Though that begged the question… was the man (if it was even actually human) aware of what ‘Ace’ was? It hit Deuce that it was entirely possible that Doppelgangers got their names and reputations for a reason – that they might not be homeless at all, that they might take the place of a real-life person and sneak their way into their families, pretending to be functioning members of society for years and years. That, perhaps, there was a reason why they were never spotted during the day.

Deuce gave Ace a wide-eyed look. “Does he know…?”

It was the man who responded, though, by laughing and sticking out his tongue at Deuce.

It was a black tentacle.

A wave of relief rolled over him.

Until the monster said, “Well, now that that’s all done, come on, Ace, we have to go. Mom and Dad are waiting for us, and if you’re late again they’re going to be so pissed.”

A wave of terror washed over Deuce. Because here Ace was, with a clear ‘older brother’, talking about meeting up with their ‘parents’. And he suspected that Ace hadn’t been lying when he’d said that, no, Doppelgangers don’t really have families, because it was such a strange thing to lie about, and its disgust at the way humans worked was genuine.

Ace groaned, running his hand through his hair. “One day I’m going to snap and kill everyone in that damn church, why do sermons have to be so long?”

His brother laughed, reaching out a hand to attempt to smooth down Ace’s now-messy hair, and Deuce could only stare at them, because they seemed like just any other pair of brothers, laughing and joking around and complaining about dumb things they didn’t actually care about… while also talking about murder in the same tone Deuce talked about the weather.

Ace sighed and waved at Deuce. “See ya later.”

“I hope not,” Deuce said, more out of instinct than anything.

Ace’s brother laughed. “Oh, I take it back, I like him.”

Ace grumbled under his breath, suddenly seeming very eager to get to church on time.

~

Deuce, hesitantly, took the lid off of the coffee to squint at the dark liquid. It looked normal… and, after a quick sniff test, he determined that it smelled fine, too. But, then again, so had the cake the Doppelganger had brought over, so…

He took a careful sip.

It was normal coffee.

More than that, it tasted good. Deuce didn’t even know how he took his own coffee, he usually just added sugar to taste and then dealt with it if it ended up too sweet. But this was nice.

That stalker… he thought, annoyed, but also a touch fond.

Only for his blood to run cold despite the caffeine entering his veins.

Because when had he started growing fond of Ace?

When had he started calling him ‘Ace’ at all? Stopped thinking of him as an ‘it’?

What if I think becoming ‘friendly’ with you is the way in?

Deuce marched to the bathroom, intent on pouring the coffee straight into the sink. It was tailor-made to his preferences, yes, but he couldn’t stand what it represented.

But it was good coffee, and a gift, and his mom had always taught him that wasting food was wrong…

He went back to his seat and set the coffee on his desk, wondering if he would even be able to drink it past the bile creeping up the back of his throat.

~

Cater collected the ID from him, before heading off toward the elevator.

“Appreciate you, Deuce,” Cater called over his shoulder.

Deuce waved him off, absently. It was his job, after all, he hardly deserved thanks for doing it.

Deuce went back to the computer, reaching for his coffee cup.

He paused.

His hand had something red and flaky on it. He lifted it to his nose, expecting the smell of lipstick or something…

Only to find that it smelled metallic.

Coppery, even.

His head shot up, to ‘Cater’, already in the elevator, leaning against the back wall. He gave a little finger wave with red-caked fingertips. A wide smile stretched across his face.

And then continuing to stretch, showing off rows of sharp teeth and skin pulling into something that shouldn’t have been physically possible for a human to achieve.

Deuce ran for the elevator, his arm out to try and stop it, but the doors slid shut before he could get inside.