#but also. by the time they see him again at least ten years have passed. like HELLO why do u expect them to think hes the exact same

[t4tdanvis]

"i hate mys gene hes the worst he should actually die violently for being a bad person in high school because people are incapable of change and also 17/18 year olds (literal teenagers) are just as mature and smart as someone whos twice their age he shouldve known better" get well soon 😊❤

[2tcs]

Day 2 Meeting a new family member and Wire

“My brother has moved to Gotham and I intend to visit them tonight as Robin.” Damian announced as everyone began to eat dinner.

“You have. A brother?” Tim haltingly asked as he looked at Damian.

“Tt. That is what I said. I advise not attempting to contact him unless he invites you into his home.”

“Damian. Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” Bruce asked.

“It was irrelevant. Danyal is older than me and had been deemed a failure by the time Mother and Grandfather decided to make me. I had been under the impression that he had been disposed of. In a way, I suppose he was, seeing as he was placed in the hands of some scientists who worked for the league.”

“But he’s back. Do you know what he wants?” Tim asked as Bruce disassociated.

“He would not go into detail but it seems that the scientists who raised him have found a purer and more radioactive Lazarus water. It is why I am meeting him tonight so he can turn over the more sensitive information without the league hearing about it.”

“Damian.” Bruce started before rethinking what he was going to say. “I would like to come with. He may be your brother but he is also an unknown.”

“I am aware Father. That is why I am telling you now. You cannot come with me but I will stay in contact and keep the com channel open throughout the entire exchange.”

“I would still prefer”

“Father. You will not come with. Danyal has expressly forbade you from meeting him.”

“That makes this even more suspicious! If not me then at least bring Dick with you.”

“Richard is in Bloodhaven and will not be able to get here in a timely manner. I am going alone.” Damian said before standing up and walking off.

“Damian!”

“Give it a rest B. He’s on a mission and I have a feeling he’ll go alone no mater what you say. If anything we could try to tail him but I have a feeling he’ll be on the lookout for that.”

“Hn.”

👻🦇👻🦇

“Akhi. You have fortified this place well.” Damian complimented as he walked into the office of the warehouse where Danny had made his base. It had been years since Danny had looked into the child that was meant to replace him after he failed one too many missions for Grandfather's liking. But to see that his little brother had managed to escape the league made Danny’s core hum happily.

“Thank you, Dams. But we aren’t here for pleasantries.” Danny said as he walked over to the single desk in the room and pulled a thick file out of one of the drawers. “In here is a brief rundown of the Fenton's research as well as a law that has recently passed that is in violation of”

Before Danny could finish talking there was a loud crash and a string of expletives.

“What the fuck! Who puts two wire traps mere inches from each other!” The voice shouted before the sound of a body hitting the floor. A few moments later the voice started yelling again as they fell into another trap.

“A friend of yours Dams?” Danny asked while he watched the door.

“A member of our family. Unfortunately. I had told Father not to come and I was hoping the fact that it was in Crime Allie would discourage Drake. I had not counted on Father getting Todd involved.” Damian sighed before walking over to the folder.

“As long as he does not wake up the littles I could care less. Perhaps we should help him out?” Danny asked. Not noticing Damian’s head snapping up to stare at him.

“Littles? You did not inform me of anyone else.”

“Hm. Long story short? You are an uncle to two little ones.”

“ALL RIGHT! WHO SET UP ALL THOSE… Demon brat. I should have known.” Red Hood said as he barged into the office. Causing twin crys to echo from a door on the opposite side of the main door. “Are those?”

“Yes, and your entrance has just woken up my kids. Dams? I have also left a number in the folder if you need to contact me. I will be off now.” Danny said as he began to walk towards the door the cries were coming from.

“There is a family brunch every Wednesday at ten in the morning. I request you to be there so that I can meet the new members of our family. Father would also like to meet you.” Damian said while ignoring Jason’s stuttering.

“I will think about it. Until next time Dams.” Danny replied before disappearing through the door.

[flamingpudding]

Drake's family secret

A/N: Another story idea I had and I probably will keep working on. I kinda want to continue on it I just have no idea how or with what yet.

Tim had a secret. Well, he had many secrets but this was one he had kept closed off for a very long time now. It was one of the reasons he fabricated a fake uncle to avoid getting adopted. After all, if you were put into the system how could you possibly get found or find your last living blood relative? His family didn't know and he never intended for them to know anyway. It was a secret well-kept of the Drake family, one that even the public didn't know about. His parents hadn't thrown around money to keep anyone involved silent for nothing after all.

But Tim had had vague memories as well as found the last remaining documents years ago. The problem had been that he hadn't been Robin yet at that time and couldn't do research like he can now. Tim had often wondered if one of the reasons he had followed Batman around back then was to see if he could help him with that matter too, yet he had never brought it up to Bruce nor any of his other siblings.

In a way it made Tim feel guilty now as he looked over that old piece of paper. The only hint he had until now.

He looked over the security video of Wayne Enterprise again. Watching that group of high schoolers that was there on a school trip visit. His eyes tracked one specific student among them. If things were different Tim would joke about how the boy looked like perfect Bruce adoption material. But as it was, Tim was not going to make that joke.

Because as much as the boy fell into the stereotype of Bruce's adoption problem, the boy had facial features that looked very much like one Jenet Drake. Tim could honestly see it, sure his memories were not the best in regards to his parents but he had kept at least some photos for references. But recognizing that threw in a whole other set of problems.

For one he would need to find a way to make sure the Drake Family secret doesn't get exposed to his family too soon. Second, he needed to find a way to approach the boy without looking suspicious. Third, he was on a time limit, according to what he found the school trip the boy was on lasted for a week. Once the boy was out of Gotham it would be even harder to find a passable excuse to approach him. Fourth, he would also need a blood sample. As much as the boy's looks alone could make Tim believe it, the rest of his family was paranoid and if he was completely homestead, he also would need it for his reassurance that he wasn't wrong. Which again he kind of doubted even with this little amount of evidence. The fifth problem in this was, how was he going to break it to the rest of his family.

Because the best kept Drake's Family secret, he was pretty sure he was the last remaining person in the know, was that Tim had a little brother. A brother that was born when he was around 3 or four years old. A little brother who had never gotten to grow up with him because Jack and Jenet Drake had used their constant traveling as cover so the public wouldn't know about him. They already had an heir with Tim, they didn't need a second child. So the moment his little brother had been born he was given up in a closed adoption. Never to be seen again and never to be connected to the Drake family.

Tim only knew about him because he had vague memories about his mother's pregnancy and also had later found the papers in his parents' office when he was around ten. He remembered how upset he had been at the discovery but also how he hadn't been able to do anything about it. Though it was back then that he had also decided that the moment he could he would do everything he could to find him. Things only started to change when he became Robin and then Red Robin. Now he had the resources and knowledge to find the little brother he had never gotten to grow up with.

But too much time had passed and his parents had been thorough when covering their tracks, which resulted in Tim having been unable to find that little brother of his. Having no name and no idea who adopted him, didn't help either. But Tim had had less to work with before, yet the search had given him massive troubles, to the point that he HAD contemplated getting the rest of his family in on it.

But now that wasn't necessary anymore, there was an actual chance again.

Thankfully he had come in late today, if he hadn't he wouldn't have seen the group of High School students on a school trip in the Lobby waiting for their tour guide. He wouldn't have seen the group of teens that lacked behind their fellow students a bit. But most importantly he wouldn't have seen that kid that looked like adoption bait for Bruce. That then by closer inspection had so many facial similarities to his mother that Tim had first thought he was hallucinating.

Now he was sitting in his office, watching the group of High Schoolers getting a tour through the building through the security cams while trying to come up with the perfect plan that didn't look too suspicious as he watched the boy who could be his blood-related little brother. Oh, Damian would throw a fit if he learned about having another brother, Tim mused for a moment as he noted down the boy's, Danny's, excitement about their aerospace department. He had already decided, if Danny was not living adequately he would pull all the strings he could to get his little brother home.

So far Tim had found out that the boy's name was Danny Fenton. He would dig into that later more. He would also make sure that if Danny was his little brother, he saw to it that he was getting treated right. He had noticed how his little brother appeared overly tired and there was a bandage hidden below his shirt plus through the security camera footage, he had also seen that there was a hint of scarring on his left arm.

For now, though he had sent a message to the tour guide to end the tour in his office, for something like a surprise introduction to Tim Drake-Wayne. He would continue to build up his plan of getting to know and confirm his little brother's status from there.

[bruh--wtf]

Tutor for Time

Theodore Nott x gryffindor! reader

summary: Theo is terrible with his words, and reader already had some presumptions about him. So when Theo takes an opportunity to spend time with the reader it is their friend Pansy’s responsibility to fix both of their assumptions.

Warning: this is my first time writing for Theo so idk how good it is but lmk! <3

You’d never actually spoken to Theodore Nott and you never planned on doing so. No matter how good of friends you were with Pansy, Blaise and Enzo, Theodore Nott was unapproachable.

“No, absolutely not.” Pansy frowns at you.

“He’s not actually that scary. He just has a resting bitch face.” You glare at her and shake your head.

“It’s not that. In fact, he’s quite handsome, it’s the fact that he notoriously hates anything having to do with Gryffindor. He’s also a notorious fuck boy, and seems to take extra pleasure in breaking the girls hearts in my house. I’ve heard to many stories to even think of asking him for help.” You shake your head and start reading the read annotations Snape had left all over your paper.

“He’s your best chance at passing.” You glare at her and glance over at Theodore again on the other side of the room. She was right, he did have a resting bitch face. He always looked like he hated everything, and his gray eyes were perpetually fixed in an expression of annoyed indifference. While his friends laughed around him, the only hint of emotion he showed was the slightest smirk.

So, yes, Theodore Nott was unapproachable. But also incredibly attractive. Which might have said more about you than him.

“I can ask him for you if you like. Or at least mention that you’re looking for a tutor,” Pansy offers, slightly more gentle than previously. You look at her again, chewing on the inside of your cheek. When you glance down at your paper covered in red marks again, you sigh.

“Yeah, alright,” you finally concede. Pansy grins and goes back to her work, unnervingly excited at your agreeing. And when you look up at Theodore again, you find him already looking between you and your friend. When he sees you looking his eyes seem to harden before he looks away.

Oh, he definitely hates you.

***

You finally walk into the library five minutes late, and Theodore is waiting for you at a table in the back corner. You have to take a deep breath before walking up to him and taking a seat across from him.

“Thanks for finally gracing me with your presence.” You blink at him. His accent is thicker somehow when he is speaking directly to you. You would think living surrounded by the English for the past five and a half years would have depleted the accent a bit, but it’s still very prominent.

“I got caught up with some friends. I’m only a few minutes late.” Theodore finally looks up at his books and his dead eyes meet yours.

“And that makes wasting my time alright?” You blink at him and have to bite your tongue to remind yourself that he is actually taking time out of his day to help you. So don’t be a complete bitch.

“No of course not. Sorry. Thank you for meeting me, though.” He just shrugs looking down again.

“Pansy wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t have much of a choice.” You clench your naw again and nod.

“Right.” Theodore jumped right into the reading after that. You had to scramble to get your book at, which he didn’t seem to care about in the slightest. By the time it was almost curfew, Theodore didn’t show the slightest sign of being any more tired than when you had sat down with him. You, on the other hand, had earned at least three kicks in the leg when your eyes would start drooping shut.

Finally, you found your out when Madame Pince yelled out that the library would close in ten minutes. You quickly sat up for the first time in over an hour and watched as Theodore just kept rambling on about the importance of some herb.

“Are we almost done?” You finally blurt out. That’s when he finally looks up again. He raises an eyebrow at you, not looking amused in the slightest.

“Do you understand more than you did the last time you got a question wrong?” You scowl at his response and deflate a little in your seat.

“The library closes soon.” He nods and snaps his book shut, making you jump a little at the sudden change.

“Perfect. Then I can have a break of your stupid answers until tomorrow.” You gawk at him. Once the words finally process in your head, you stand up, grabbing your things.

“Just because I have one sore subject doesn’t make me an idiot, Nott. I’m smart enough not to waste my time with an ass like you again.”

“Ouch.” His smirk and sarcastic tone makes you all the angrier, and you send a final glare his way before starting to walk off. “You need me to pass the next test on Thursday.” You turn around to see him gathering his things as if he hadn’t just said anything. For a moment you thought you’d imagined it.

“I can find someone else to help me. Someone who actually wants to and isn’t just here to be a condescending ass who likes to make me feel bad about myself,” you snap. Theodore looks over his shoulder at you and studies you for a moment.

“I admit my last comment was a bit harsh but I just spent the last five hours trying to teach you. Who else is going to do that?” He turns, leaning on the table as his arms cross over his chest. You pause for a moment. That almost sounded like regret from Theodore Nott. You didn’t think there was such a thing.

“Fred’s quite good at potions. I’m sure he’d help me.” Theodore raises an eyebrow.

“Weasley? Sure, he’d help you for ten minutes before distracting himself and you with something else.” You clench your jaw, sad to admit that he had a point. Neither Fred nor George were very academic and even when they were they were terrible at staying focused.

“Why do you want to help me? Is Pansy paying you or something?” Theodore shakes his head, turning back to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. He walks up to you, the ass having the gall to tower over you after everything else.

“No. She’s not, nor is anyone else. I’ll see you here same time tomorrow.” You blink at him, and he’s walking away. Unfortunately, he’s right. You will see him tomorrow.

And the next day.

And finally, on Wednesday night, you’re staring at the review Theodore had created for the test the very next day with your head in your hands.

“How am I supposed to remember all this?” Theodore shrugs as he works on his own work across from you.

“The same way the rest of us do. You study.” You glare at him and kick his shin like he’d done to you so many times, which manages to earn you his attention.

“I’ve been studying. I’ve spent more time with you in here than I have in my own bed the last few days and I still feel like it’s all going to leave my head the second I leave.” Theodore tilts his head and studies you as you slouch back in your seat.

“What helps you remember when you’re here?” You bite the inside of your cheek. You know the answer and yet you hate to admit it to the boy. However, the truth was the truth. And that was that you had grown attached to Theodore’s praise. Well, about as close as he came to it. Whenever you were right, he’s award you with the smallest of smiles and a little nod. And if he was reading over your papers, you liked watching as his eyes skimmed the words and sometimes you could tell you were right when his head tilted down a little more to hide the smile you liked so much. He didn’t like admitting you were right despite being the reason for it.

Eventually, he gestured for an answer and you had to sigh. “You, I suppose,” you finally admit, neglecting to tell him why you like being right with him so much. Theodore seems to like that answer, though as he gives you one of those small smiles that are nothing like his usual smirk.

“Well, lucky for you I happen to be just across the room, incase you haven’t noticed.” You blink up at him. “So, you should be just fine.” You smile a little and tilt your head.

“Careful, Nott. I believe you just comforted a Gryffindor.” Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed by Theodore. He smirks a little and his eyes go back down to his work and his quill.

“If I’m your good luck charm you could at least call me Theo.” His blatant ignoring of your comment still shocks you.

“Fine, then. Theo?” He lifts his head again and hums in response. “Why are you helping me?” He tilts his head in a way that reminds you of your friend’s cat when you hold catnip.

“Pansy gave me an excuse to sit with you and I took it.” Your brows scrunch together and it is your turn to tilt your head and his to study you. “We have mutual friends, and I never wanted them to be the reason that I got to be alone with you.”

He tilted his head back straight and you continued to stare at him. “Is that one of your lines?” He brings his hand up to rest his chin on. It’s the first time you’ve seen him lean on the table.

“What are you talking about?” You roll your eyes and wait for him to crack up but he doesn’t.

“You don’t like me, or anyone else that has anything to do with my House. Everyone knows that. And I’m not the idiot to fall for it.” He just stares for a moment before shaking his head.

“I’ve definitively had my fun, just like Mattheo, and definitely Enzo have. How does that make me a worse person than them?” Your throat runs dry and you can’t think of a good way to word your thoughts.

“I didn’t say you were… Enzo is terrible to girls and I am well aware of that. You’re not better or worse.” He rolls his eyes and starts gathering his papers.

“I’ve never told a girl I’d be hers and then not followed through. I’m always honest, unlike some of my friends who love false promises because they think it gets them better head. And it’s not my fault if girls think that just because I’ve been in their bed means suddenly I’ll want to go out with them.” You watch as he stands up, looking more annoyed than you have ever seen him. “Before you think about me being an ass again, maybe think that you only hear the side of delusional girls who have also fucked half of my friends. And I didn’t want to meet up with you to get into your pants I could’ve gotten that much easier from someone who tries much harder to get into mine.” He shoves his things in his bag and starts walking out of the library without so much as looking back at you, and your left staring at an empty chair trying to process the words of the boy you’d clearly hurt.

Pansy watches as you flop on her bed and continue to ramble about the weird conversation with Theo. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

You shoot up. “What?”

She gives you an unamused look. “Yes, Theo fucks around. But who doesn’t? And he’s the nicest about it. He doesn’t give any false pretenses.” You frown as you cross your arms. “He’s never dated anyone, you know? He doesn’t like the idea of falling for someone. And he’s never lied to girls about that. Besides he’s liked the same girl since first year. He’s quite attached to her, though he’s probably never going to admit it.”

You sit up a little straighter, waiting for her to continue. “Theo… Theo’s been through a lot. He needs someone who will listen to him, really listen to him, because it’s rare he talks about his feelings at all.”

“Why don’t you date him then, if you know him so well?” She rolls her eyes and gives you that same blank stare.

“Like I said. He’s down bad for a girl he’s barely spoken to but watches almost every second of every day. And I like girls.” You smile a little at her though you do have an odd clench in your chest as you look down at your hands. “Are you seriously that oblivious?” You snap your eyes back up to hers.

“What?”

“Theo has liked you since first year, you idiot! And the one time I finally got him to talk to you, you tell him you think he’s an unemotional ass?” You are taken aback by Pansy’s snapping, yet find yourself thinking about the times you’ve caught him staring. Normally it’s with Pansy and you’ve always just assumed he was annoyed at her for being friends with you, but the more you think about it, you remember how it’s always happened. Even before you and Pansy were friends.

“Oh.”

Pansy rolls her eyes again. “Yeah. Oh.”

The next day you find yourself sitting next to Pansy taking the test you’d been cramming for all week with Theo. Midway through your hand is in your hair and you find yourself drifting off in your mind. It’s only when your eyes land on Theo do you remember how little time you have, and look back down at your paper.

A few times, you find yourself glancing up at Theo. Trying to remember the numerous questions he asked you and the answers you said in order to earn his soft smiles. At one point he looked over just as you did, and caught you staring. His brows knit together for a moment, and he glanced at the quill twirling in your hand. He gave you a small nod before looking down at his own test again, and you allowed yourself to do the same.

The next day when Snape handed back your papers you were shocked to find an E at the top of your paper. Exceeds Expectations.

You’d never gotten more than a Poor, or the one or two Acceptables. You stare at the paper and Pansy elbows you, finally drawing you out of your head. She nods at your paper and then toward the other side of the room where Theo was standing up and getting ready to leave. “Least you could do is say thank you,” she says before grabbing her own stuff and leaving.

Theo starts walking out alone seeing as Pansy had stolen Blaise and Mattheo hadn’t dawned the class with his presence that day. So you find yourself running after the tall boy alone in the corridor towards the slytherin dorms. “Nott!” He didn’t even flinch or acknowledge your presence so you call after him again. “Nott, come on!”

Finally you stop running and let out a breath. “Theo, please, just a minute?” This time he pauses and turns to face you.

“Will you stop yelling obnoxiously?” You smile a little and quickly walk up to him.

“Yes, in fact, I will.” You hold out the test for him, and he stares at you for a moment longer before taking it and assessing it. You see the small smile dawn his features and can’t help but smile a little wider as he tries to hide it. “I just wanted to thank you. For spending that time with me.”

“And being your good luck charm?” He looks back up at you and holds out the paper for you to take back. You do, but take a step closer to him as well.

“Yes, that too.” You chew on your lip for a moment before clearing your throat. “And I also need to apologize. I didn’t mean to make you upset the other day. I didn’t realize how bias I sounded until afterwards.” He clears his throat and looks anywhere but at you.

“Pansy talk to you?” You nod a little.

“Yes. But I’m glad she did.” He glances at you but doesn’t seem convinced. “And what Snape started talking about today already has me lost, so maybe you’d consider helping me again?”

His confusion is evident. “You want me to help you?” You nod a little and tilt your head.

“Does being alone with me sound that bad?” His jaw works for a moment, but you swear a small smile appears for a moment. “I’d like to spend some more time with you, if you’d like.”

“Careful, Y/L/N, it almost sounds like you want to hangout with a slytherin. And a fuck boy one at that.” You smile a little more and nod.

“When has that stopped me before? Enzo is much worse than you.” Theo smiles a little more again, and this time lets you see it.

“I’ll see you at the Black Lake tomorrow, the same time as usual.” You raise an eyebrow.

“The Black Lake?” Theo just nods and starts backing away.

“Yes, the library’s a bit stuffy. I’d never take someone I like there.” You can’t hide your surprise and Theo just waves you off. “Don’t act like I just proposed.” You laugh a little and shrug.

“Not yet but give me another week and I’ll have you on your knee.” Theo’s eyebrows raise and he smirks.

“We’ll see about that, love.”

[redcoralpot]

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader

Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.

Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1.55K

Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!

-

Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?

So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”

Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam. 

His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”

“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”

“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.

Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home. 

Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.

He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.

By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.

“Mike Schmidt?”

He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”

“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”

“You mentioned that.”

The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”

“Do you have any actual experience with it?”

“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”

“Why did you stop?”

“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.

“A pizzeria?”

You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”

He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.

-

Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.

Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.

Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“F-fuck.” He whispered. 

His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself. 

He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?

Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.

Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.

That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath. 

The stain was going to be hard to explain.

-

[sinofwriting]

So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

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“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if you knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[angelwonie]

HEARTS ARE WON AT PRACTICE || jung jaehyun

PAIRING: football player!jaehyun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 21.2k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, enemies to friends to lovers

SUMMARY: jung jaehyun is an obnoxious, way too handsome footballer whom you have no intention of getting to know. at least until a series of coincidences forces you to spend time with him, and you realize there might be more to him than what meets the eye.

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, praise, degradation, fingering, locker room sex, a little dumbification], jaehyun is hot, unfortunately

Getting hit in the head with a football definitely was not on your to-do list for today. 

It all happens so quickly. One minute you’re on your way home — walking down the path that coincidentally forces you to pass by the football field, side-eyeing the players whose egos have long ago surpassed whatever roof kept them in check before, and in the next a football shoots in your direction, hitting your head so hard you stumble a few steps backwards. It stings a little, but there’s no blood on your fingers when you retract them from your forehead, so you suppose it’s fine.  

You hear someone shout in the distance just then, the voice all too familiar even though you can’t make out the words he’s saying. And really, it doesn’t matter that much, either. What matters is that it’s him who just hit you in the head with a football, and the second you hear his voice it makes your heart stop. 

Jung Jaehyun. 

You could’ve recognized his voice from miles away. Not because you’re one of his pitiful fangirls, of course — there’s no way you’re associating yourself with the cheerleaders almost fainting when he enters the field to play. No, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t even know Jung Jaehyun exists. Unfortunately, though, you happen to be both his neighbor and have a best friend that fell head over heels in love with him last year. If your mom wasn’t gushing about how handsome Jaehyun was one day, Dahyun always made up for it. 

His voice shoots through the air again now, and this time, you look up. He’s far away, so you can’t hear him, only catch a glimpse of his red shirt, but after a second or two you come to realize he’s not even talking to you; he’s talking to his teammates. 

What an asshole, you think to yourself, almost scoffing as you look at him. Is he really so self-centered that he can’t apologize for kicking the ball into your fucking skull? Probably, if the fact that he rejected your friend without even looking in her direction is anything to go by. And though that happened almost a year ago, your friend still sometimes looks like she’s about to cry when you pass by the football field. At least you don’t have to listen to her rant about how sexy his thighs are anymore.

Shaking your head, you start walking again, now much more eager to get home than ever. 

You make it approximately ten steps before you hear his voice again, much closer than before. It’s soft, but deep — the kind of voice that makes girls fall to their knees — and unfortunately, also loud enough for your head to whip around instinctively. 

“Y/N, wait!” 

You stop walking and look at him. He’s still in his uniform, shirt clinging to his upper body and face glistening in sweat. The sun is high up in the sky, reflecting in his eyes as he looks at you, his uneven breath a sign that he’s been practicing for a long time. Not that it’s surprising — you’re certain that boy doesn’t have anything to his personality other than being a good football player. And being objectively handsome. His lips quirk up in a small smile when he sees you’ve halted your walk, but what catches your attention are his words. 

He said your name. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise since you’ve lived close to each other for many years, but you’ve never spoken to him, and he hasn’t so much as looked in your direction before. Now he’s looking, though. And as much as you hate to admit it, you can see where all of those fangirls are coming from. His eyes rest on you softly, like a cheek pressed against a fluffy pillow, but he’s nowhere near absent-minded, that much is obvious from the small hint of worry in his gaze. Whether that is worry for you or his reputation as the best player on the team, you're not sure. 

You hear his breathing even out, and it makes you realize you’re still standing without moving, waiting for him to say something. 

“Are you okay?” he finally asks, pushing his wet hair back in a way that looks much more attractive than it needs to. “I really didn’t mean for it to hit you.”

“Maybe you should work on your aiming skills, then,” you tell him, watching as his face contorts into an offended expression. He looks half-mad, half-confused, with his eyes blinking down on you and jaw clenched just slightly. It makes you wonder whether anyone has ever told him to work on his aim before. Probably not. “I’m fine, though.”

You begin walking again, leaving Jaehyun behind. No other sounds than the weak wind reach your ears, and you wonder if he’s going back to the football field. Not that you really care. You’re just curious. 

It only takes another five seconds for you to find out. 

“Are you sure?” Jaehyun’s shoulder brushes over yours as he catches up to you. Caught off guard, you jump a little, and his lips spread in a smile — a full one this time, teeth on display and eyes crinkling. It’s the same smile he wears when his team wins a game, you realize, before you can stop your thoughts from running. “That you’re fine, I mean. I kicked it pretty hard.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. Is this guy waiting for some confirmation that yes, he did kick it hard, and yes, it did hurt? Wasn’t that much obvious from how you almost fell flat on your face in front of the whole football team? “I’m alright, so you can just go back and finish your game.”

“We finished it already,” he pushes his hair away from his face again — why is he even doing that if it just falls back either way? — and walks in front of you to block you from walking any further. You glare at him, but either he doesn’t notice, or he ignores it completely. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like a bruise is forming here.” 

And before you can even react, he leans down so his face is on level with yours and brings his thumb to lightly trace above your brow, where the football hit you earlier. It didn’t ache at all before, but now it tingles where he touches you, like your skin setting on fire. Except it doesn’t hurt, it’s just… different. And unexpected. Really unexpected. That’s what you blame everything on as you keep on standing, not flinching away from his touch though you have no idea why. 

“Does it hurt?” 

His voice brings you back to reality, and you blink up at him in surprise. “No.” 

Cringing internally at how meek your voice sounds, you shake your head and take a step back, that warm feeling fading away from your face the moment his skin isn’t on yours anymore. 

“No, I said I’m fine already.” 

You sigh, picking up the walk again and scrunching your nose up when Jaehyun walks by your side. The last thing you need right now is some overconfident footballer to ruin your day. You can already feel the headache coming along. 

A few moments pass by in silence and you look over at the woods surrounding the path. Some flowers have started to bloom, filling the grass with colors. You catch a glimpse of Jaehyun looking at you, then following your gaze that rests on the flowers. Your eyebrows lift in surprise as he strays from the path and walks onto the grass, starting to pick flowers. He looks like he’s taking this very seriously, pondering for a second or two before he chooses a flower. You almost want to burst his bubble and tell him these flowers probably won’t impress the kind of girls he surrounds himself with, but you decide it’ll be funnier if he makes a fool out of himself later. 

He returns to the path like nothing happened, the small bouquet of flowers dangling in his hand. It’s only now that you notice you stopped walking to watch, so you speed up again, hoping to God he didn’t notice or get the wrong idea. 

“So,” he begins, and you feel like dying. This is going to be a long walk home. “You coming to the game on friday?”

You turn your head to the side and look at him. “No way. Football games are the most boring things in the world.”

It’s not a complete lie — you don’t like watching football at all, especially when all the players walk around with those looks on their face that make it obvious they think they’re better than everyone else. Like the one Jung Jaehyun is wearing right at this moment. 

“Even if the players are handsome?” 

You scoff at his shit-eating grin. If this is how he talks to every girl then you’ll have to take back what you said earlier — you have no idea where all those fangirls come from. Unless you only care about looks, there’s nothing to this guy at all. 

“If only they were,” you sigh overly dreamily, hoping it'll make him annoyed and he’ll shut up. 

Except he does the exact opposite. He starts laughing. It’s loud, strong — you suppose his confidence transfers to his laugh, too — and unfortunately for you, pleasant to listen to. But that’s just an observation, obviously. 

He chuckles for a solid thirty seconds before the laughter fades into a wide smile that settles on his features, eyes glimmering in the sunlight as he pushes you lightly. “You’re funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

His grin only grows wider at your annoyed expression. “Sure it wasn’t.” 

You swear you would’ve punched him if it weren’t for the old lady passing by at that exact moment. Before you can nod your head in her direction, Jaehyun tells her ‘Good morning’ with a smile still plastered to his face. You turn around slightly, trying to figure out how Jaehyun knows that person, but it seems it’s only the lady living between him and your house. 

Shaking your head, you think to yourself that they’re probably relatives or something. Because if they aren’t, it would mean you’re acknowledging Jaehyun’s kindness to strangers, and you’re not really dying to do that at the moment.  

“Asshole,” you mumble to yourself, as if summing up the whole situation.

“By the way,” This time it’s you that starts the conversation, reminded of something you wanted to ask him. “You know Dahyun, right?”

You watch as his nose scrunches up in thought, lip pulled between his teeth. “Dahyun…” 

He looks like he’s got no clue who you’re talking about, so you help him out. 

“Short with blonde hair. Asked you out last year and you rejected her without even considering it. Does that ring a bell?” 

He lets go of his lip and rests his gaze on you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the lack of guilt in his eyes angers you. Surely he understands Dahyun is your friend from the tone of your voice, so why isn’t he saying sorry? The least he could do now is apologize for acting like a complete jerk. He owes you that much, right? 

“Yeah, I guess,” he says finally, in a careless tone that annoys you even more. “What about it?”

What about it? Is he serious right now? 

“You’re a total dick, you know that? Who rejects someone without even knowing them?” you blurt out without thinking twice about it. 

The wind rustles Jaehyun’s hair as he raises a brow, and it falls in his eyes again. He doesn’t push it away this time. You’re looking at him intently, waiting for him to say something. Anything. You wonder if he’s going to apologize now that you confronted him, but something in his gaze tells you he’s not the type to admit he’s wrong. 

“Who asks someone out without knowing them?” he says finally and you open your mouth to retaliate, but he cuts you off.  “What was I supposed to do exactly? I mean, I’d never spoken to her in my life. Better to just say no instead of leading someone on, don’t you think?”

You open your mouth then close it again. You should probably say something. Argue with him. But he’s right, at least to some extent. You would’ve done the same, so you’re not exactly in any position to lecture him. He knows that — maybe he saw it in your expression — you can tell from how his lips form a smile yet again. And surprisingly, you don’t feel a strong urge to kick him when he walks closer to your side, his shoulder only a few centimeters from yours. 

“You’re still a dick,” you remind him, and he presses his lips out in a pout. 

“How is that fair?” 

You’re nearing both your houses now, the flowers and trees replaced by the neighborhood you’ve grown up in. You half-expect Jaehyun to leave the moment he spots his local friends that are sitting by the lawn they always play football on — you only know this because you can hear their shouting from your room whenever the window is open — but he only waves in their direction before turning his attention back to you as you speak. 

“How was that free kick in your last game fair?” 

You regret that last comment the moment Jaehyun’s pout turns into a proud smirk. “So you do come watch us play.” 

“My friend dragged me along,” you assure him quickly. A little too quickly. “And just so you know, that goal of yours was totally just luck.” 

You’ve reached your house now — his is only a couple steps further. You’re not sure whether you’re supposed to say goodbye or just walk away without paying him any attention. Does he consider you friends now? Probably not. He has plenty of those. Plus, you’re friends with a girl that hates him. He’s likely to prefer for you to leave without a word. Which you don’t mind, obviously. Even if your heart jumps all the way to your throat when he pats you on the shoulder with a smile.

“Right,” he mumbles with that annoying smirk on his face, and you roll your eyes, walking up to the front door. You don’t expect him to say anything else, but then he raises his voice to shout after you so loudly you’re sure half the neighborhood can hear him. “See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

And you open the door to your house only half-annoyed. 

—

“No way. There’s just no fucking way.”

“What is it?” Dahyun asks excitedly from the other end of the line. “What happened? Don’t tell me you caught your brother making out with some girl again.”

“No, it’s not that,” you blink violently, making sure that you’re seeing straight. Strings of questions are heard from where Dahyun is rambling into the phone, but you can’t focus on any of them. “I think Jung Jaehyun is talking to my mom right now.”

“What?” 

You can hear she’s confused, and truthfully, so are you. But it’s true — you’re almost home now, and there he is, Jung Jaehyun standing in your driveway, chatting with your mom like it’s the most normal thing ever. It’s not normal, though. You barely know the guy, and you definitely don’t like him, so what in the world is he doing outside your door? 

Dahyun asks a million questions again, and you sigh into the phone, at loss for anything to say. “I’ll call you back later, okay?” 

Then you hang up without waiting for an answer. She’s probably going to give you an earful for that later, but what you’re focused on right now is running up to your mom. 

Jaehyun is the one to notice you first, his pearly whites on display as he flashes you a smile. He’s not wearing his football attire, you notice, but plain jeans and a sleeveless shirt. You want to ask him why the hell he’s wearing a sleeveless shirt in the beginning of spring, but you suppose that would only urge him to imply you’re staring at his arms (which you’re not, obviously) and his ego really doesn’t need any more boosts. 

“Y/N, you’re here,” Jaehyun says and only then does your mom look in your direction, clapping her hands together in glee. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” you glare at the football player. “Because I’m supposed to be. May I ask what the hell you are doing on my front lawn?” 

“Y/N, language!” Your mom lightly slaps your shoulder, and you almost want to throw up when you see the sickly sweet apologetic smile she sends Jaehyun. Oh God, what if she has a crush on him? Would explain why she’s scolding you for wanting to know what an almost-stranger is doing at your doorstep. And what if Jaehyun actually likes older women, and that’s why he’s rejecting every girl at school? “Jaehyun here is being a sweetheart and helping me carry these groceries inside.”

Of course he is. You raise a brow in Jaehyun’s direction, but he only shrugs with a proud smile. What is he smiling for? Is this some sort of payback for you saying his aim is bad? Is he really that petty? Honestly, he seems like the type to do that. You guess that’s what you get for bruising his fragile ego. 

“Actually, Jaehyun, why don’t you come and have dinner with us? There’s more than enough food for everyone.” 

“What?” you laugh nervously at your mom’s words, sending her a pleading look. Nope. There’s no way you’re about to eat dinner with this guy. “Please, mom, I’m sure Jaehyun has practice—”

“I don’t, actually.” You’ve never wanted to punch a smirk off of someone’s face so badly before, that’s for sure. He’s doing it on purpose, that fucking asshole. It’s evident in the way his eyes light up in amusement as you glare at him angrily. “I’d love to join you for dinner.”

And that’s how you find yourself wanting to cry in your own living room, sitting around the dining table with Jung Jaehyun as you wait for your mother to finish making dinner. 

Your mom has the table set like it’s some kind of holiday (she probably thinks having a handsome guy in her house equals Christmas), with flowers in vases and candles and tons of side dishes that you don’t even know when she had the time to prepare. Now she’s scurrying around the kitchen, successfully rejecting Jaehyun’s every offer to help but almost kicking your brother when he takes a little too long leaving his room to clean the dishes. Double standards at their finest. 

Fortunately, she’s left you alone — though you think it’s because she wants you to entertain Jaehyun, so it’s not that much of a consolation. You’re just counting on the ground to swallow you up whole before he starts talking. 

“Okay, so,” Too late, you think to yourself as he opens his mouth. “What’s your favorite color?”

You scoff in laughter, looking at Jaehyun for the first time since you entered the house. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I’m trying to get to know you,” he shrugs. “That’s what friends do, right? Know each other.”

You narrow your eyes at him, watching as he rests his chin on his hand. The absurdity of it all makes you want to laugh. A little over 24 hours ago you hadn’t exchanged a word with Jung Jaehyun, and now he’s sitting in your living room, asking you questions about yourself. You have to admit you’re slightly taken aback — you didn’t expect him to suddenly become so interested in getting to know you, and you definitely didn’t take him for someone who puts effort into things like relations. 

“Who said I want to be your friend?”

He studies you for a moment, tilting his head to the side as his eyes rake over your face. It makes you feel exposed in a way — he has that type of stare that makes you feel flustered even though he’s not doing much, just looking. It’s the attention, you decide. How it feels like all of his attention is on you, that’s what’s making you so nervous right now. 

“You do,” he says finally, leaning forward so he’s all up in your face. “I can see it in your eyes.” 

All you can see, though, are his eyes mere inches from yours, his hot breath landing on your lips. You see his hair fall onto his forehead, and you almost feel an urge to push it back. This only lasts a second, though, before you’re pulling away, scooting farther away from him on your seat. Geez. Doesn’t this guy know what personal space is? 

You clear your throat and speak, thanking God that your voice doesn’t sound shaky. “Oh no, I think the disease is spreading. Not only is your aim bad, but your eyesight is, too.”

“My aim isn’t bad.”

You almost want to laugh at how he straightens his back, squaring his shoulders as if to prove a point. 

“Really? And that’s why you managed to kick a ball into my head when I was standing twenty meters away from the goal?” 

He leans forward on the table with his jaw clenched. “Look—” 

He’s cut off by your mom entering the living room, two plates full of food in her hands. She asks if anyone is willing to help her carry everything to the table, and Jaehyun volunteers, his stance faltering. You watch silently as they set the table, tapping your fingers against your thigh. When they finally sit down, Jaehyun next to you and your mom across from you, they both seem to be in a good mood, so you figure Jaehyun didn’t get very mad at your comment. 

Your mom urges Jaehyun to eat tons of meat, and then she rests her chin on her hand, smiling at him like he’s the most beautiful human being she’s ever seen. “So, Jaehyun, you play football, right? How long have you played for?”

“About… ten years, give or take,” he says it like it’s no big deal, but you can feel your eyes growing wide, and your mom’s gasp signalizes she’s having the same thoughts as you. All you cared about ten years ago was watching the latest show everyone was talking about. “Not that long compared to others trying to make the national team.” 

National team? Your eyes find their way to his on their own, and you hold back the shocked expression that is creeping up on you. There’s no way you’re letting him see you’re impressed. Instead, you offer him a roll of your eyes and a scoff. 

“Oh, great, you’re like one of those kids that never grew out of their professional footballer fantasy.” 

He grins. Something in his gaze tells you he didn’t buy your act. “It’s not a fantasy if you’re talented enough to make it.”

“Wow, aren’t you confident in yourself?” you ask mockingly. 

“Y/N,” your mom warns you, and you sigh, eating your food quietly. You can feel Jaehyun’s stare burning into you, but you don’t look up because he’s confusing and annoying, and you don’t want to look at him because it only makes you more confused and annoyed. Luckily, your mom only seems pleased with your silence. “Do you like the food, Jaehyun?”

“It’s delicious,” he flashes a bright smile. “Could I maybe have the recipe? I'd love for my mom to make this sometime.” 

You want to criticize him for sucking up to her, but the way your mom’s eyes light up at his words make you bite your tongue. 

“Why, of course, you can!” 

Jaehyun’s eyes meet yours as your mom fishes out a piece of paper and starts writing the ingredients on it. He’s still smiling. He doesn’t look proud of himself or anything. It’s just a genuine smile. That was nice of you, you want to tell him. You don’t. Instead, you hope he can see it in your eyes. Or maybe you’re hoping he doesn’t. You’re not sure. 

“Uh, why is he here?”

You’re reminded of your brother’s presence only as he walks into the room, sleeves of his shirt pushed up, signaling he was doing the dishes. He’s referring to Jaehyun and you’re thankful someone else thinks it’s awful he’s here right now — at least until your brother opens his mouth again. “Is he Y/N’s boyfriend?” 

“What? No!” You slam your hand on the table a little too hard, causing your mom and Jaehyun to jump in their seats. “Are you crazy? He’s just a neighbor. You know, he's one of those annoying guys that always play football late at night.” 

You can feel your mom’s reprimand coming along, but before she can fully open her mouth, your brother is turning to Jaehyun with awe in his eyes. 

“You are? That's so dope,” Your jaw drops at your brother’s response, Jaehyun’s quiet chuckle only barely reaching your ears. “You wouldn't mind teaching me a few tricks, right? I've seen you guys play and you're mad good.”

You scoff. What is this, some Jung Jaehyun fanclub? Faintly, you can hear him say ‘sure’ to your brother and the latter jumps in excitement like a little kid. Jaehyun’s eyes shimmer in the living room light when you look to the side to catch a glimpse of him, only for a moment wondering what’s going through his head. All you know about him is that he’s unpredictable and plays football, and for the first time, you feel like you want to know more. 

As your mom and Jaehyun clean the table, you usher your brother away (ignoring his whining about wanting to play football with ‘the sexy dude’) and put on your hoodie. It’s still cool outside in the evenings, and you’re certain your mom will force you to walk Jaehyun home even though he lives two minutes away. Your suspicions are confirmed as soon as she walks back into the living room with Jaehyun in tow, her eyes already telling you that if you don’t walk him home she’s going to disown you. 

Reluctantly, you lead him to the front door, not bothering to tie your shoes. He’s the first to reach the door, and he opens it for you, to which you mumble a small ‘thank you.’ It seems like you have a lot to thank him for today. Making your mom happy, putting your brother in a good mood, and now, holding the door open for you. You suppose it’s enough to make up for the football hitting your head. 

“Your mom is nice,” is the first thing he says as you walk alongside each other, slow steps that bring you closer to his house. “Very optimistic and supportive, it seems. It’s refreshing.” 

Your first thought is how you thought he was into her, but you feel a sting in your heart when you hear the faint yearning in his voice. He isn’t crushing on your mom, she’s just showing interest in what he’s doing and he likes that. You wonder if his parents are different. If they don’t support him. Maybe they think trying out for the national team is stupid? 

“Let me ask you a question,” you say and he nods. “Why do you reject every girl that asks you out?”

He raises a brow in surprise. “That’s a deep question for someone who said my aim is bad.”

“If I take it back, will you answer?”

He buries his hands in his pockets and walks backwards, so he can face you. It’s dark and you can barely see him, and it also doesn’t help that when he’s this close you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Tapping his chin, he acts as if he’s in deep thought. 

“I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, shivering as the cold wind hits your skin. 

“I’m sorry I said your aim is bad,” you say finally, resigned. “Happy?”

“Very.” 

He grins and for some unknown reason, you don’t feel as cold anymore. You shake off whatever feeling’s stirring up in your stomach — for a moment, it feels dangerously close to happiness and enjoying Jung Jaehyun’s company isn’t on your to-do list for today. You try walking faster to get this whole ‘walk Jaehyun home’ thing over with quicker, but he blocks you and you scoff. 

“I apologized,” you remind him. “Now answer my question.”

He shakes his head with a playful glint in his eyes. “I said I’d think about it, not that I’d answer it. I thought about it and I don’t want to.”

“You’re annoying.” 

“Thanks.”

A small smile settles on your features, one you realize you’ve been holding back for most of the day. You hope Jaehyun can’t see it in the dark — that would be embarrassing. Not only because you’re supposed to dislike him, but also because he’s a cocky little shit and he doesn’t need to know he’s actually an interesting person. At least you think he might be. Maybe. 

Slowly, you walk, now barely ten meters away from his house. You’re thinking of something to say when it starts raining. It’s one raindrop, then two, and suddenly it’s pouring. Not violently, just peacefully, water dripping down your face as you look up at the sky. It’s so pretty. He looks at you, you can feel his stare, and so you look at him, too. The smile doesn’t leave your face, and you’re sure he can see it now. He doesn’t comment on it, though, and for that, you’re thankful. 

You don’t know what it means just yet. Other than that you want to get to know him. Maybe. 

“It’s raining,” you say, and he stops walking, raising his eyebrows, as if to say you’re stating the obvious. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“You like the rain?”

“You don’t?”

He thinks for a moment, eyes on you when you open your hand, letting the raindrops fall on your palm. Your hair is wet, he notices, and your clothes, too. You don’t seem to mind, though, and he thinks this might be the happiest he’s seen you all day. So rain is what makes you happy. He fights back the urge to laugh. He never would have taken you for someone this easy to please. Maybe you’re a little happier spending time with him than you let on. 

Maybe. He’s not sure, but maybe this uncertainty is exactly what draws him to you. No clear answers, no black on white, just his words and the words you choose to respond with. He likes it, he thinks. 

“I hate playing in the rain,” He finally responds. “It makes the field all slippery and wet. I prefer the sun.” 

You’re not surprised, he can tell from the look in your eyes. “Don’t you have any opinions unrelated to football?”

You had intended for the question to come off as a snarky comment, but you realize as the words leave your mouth there are no traces of irritation in your voice. Only the genuine interest you didn’t want to let come to the surface. 

“It may come as a surprise, but actually, I do.” 

Jaehyun’s bare arms are littered with raindrops, hair pitch black as it allows more rain to drip down his face. He must be freezing, but he makes no move to walk home quicker, and so you don’t either. Your hoodie isn’t completely soaked through yet, so you decide you can enjoy the rain a little longer. He clears his throat and you look at him expectantly.

“I like Red Bull,” he begins, eyes blinking down on you as if he’s expecting you to laugh at him or something. But you don’t, and so he smiles wider and continues. “I don’t have a favorite color. Your mom’s kimchi is phenomenal. Plans and schedules are overrated. You want to be my friend.” He stops, watching your slightly startled expression. “Your turn.” 

You think it through for a moment. 

“My favorite color is purple,” You say, slowly tasting the words on your tongue as you let them leave your mouth. “Latte tastes best with two cubes of sugar. You’re annoying and your aim sucks. I want to be your friend.” 

“I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” You grin as you push his shoulder. He was supposed to stumble backward, but he doesn’t even budge, which should annoy you, but you can’t bring yourself to care that much when the rain is making you feel so light. Or maybe it’s not the rain. You’re not sure. “Stop smiling so much and go inside. You’re going to catch a cold in that shirt.” 

He walks to his door and opens it, but before walking inside, he turns around and waves at you. You wave back, watching as he sports a smile that doesn’t falter even as he disappears into the house. 

You walk back home with a smile on your face, only a quarter annoyed. 

—

It’s a little past eight when Jaehyun sees you kicking stones by the bus stop. 

Actually, he hears you long before you come into sight — a scream of frustration in what he recognizes as your voice hits his ears as he walks outside to throw away the trash. Interested, and maybe a tad bit worried for your well-being, he decides to check what’s going on. And sure enough, there you are, head in your hands as you flop down on the pavement by the road. 

“Y/N,” he says and you lift your head, sighing. “You okay?”

You shake your head in disbelief. How come he’s always there when something’s happening? You let your eyes rake over his frame — he’s wearing sweats and a compression shirt that, even you have to admit, makes him look hot. The outline of his abs is distracting, even for you. Still, you do your best to look him in the eyes as you speak. 

“I missed the bus.” 

He scoffs and you glare at him. “Jesus Christ, I thought something serious happened. You look like you want to die.”

“It is serious!” you protest, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m going to be late for class. Who decided that the buses only run every half hour?” 

He looks like he’s in deep thought, gazing down on you as you sit on the edge of the pavement. His classes don’t start until nine, so he wasn’t planning on heading out to school already, but you’re looking miserable and he’s intent on being on good terms with you. Apart from his teammates, you’re pretty much the only one that doesn’t act like he’s some sort of celebrity. Sure, having girls drool over you is fun, but only until you’re looking for someone to talk to and not fuck. Besides, he enjoys your company. It won’t kill him to leave a little early. 

“Get up,” he says suddenly, and without giving you any time to react, he grabs your arm and hauls you up so you’re standing. “I’ll drive you.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “You’ll drive me?” 

“Yeah, let me just get the keys to the car.”

And just like that, you’re following a compression-shirt-clad football player into his house that you’ve never been in. For some reason, it makes you nervous, like you’re trespassing or something, but hearing Jaehyun say no one’s home calms your nerves a little.

He walks into the living room and leaves you in the hallway, and you take this as an opportunity to look around. The house looks a little like your own — the design is the same, the walls are painted white like yours and the windows are the same size. But apart from that, it’s so different. 

The walls are littered with pictures — you recognize Jaehyun’s parents, holding him as a baby. Another one is of him and his sister, when they were around seven or eight. They have a couple more group pictures, but other than that, most are of Jaehyun on the football field. Ten-year-old Jaehyun holding what looks like his first medal; teenage Jaehyun screaming in happiness after scoring a goal; and then, your personal favorite — tears streaming down Jaehyun’s face as he lifts a trophy above his head, his teammates all joyfully smiling. 

His parents must be proud of him, you think to yourself. You probably would, too, if you were them. Yet when you were talking to him last, he gave you the impression that his parents weren’t as supportive of him as he’d like. But it’s none of your business, you decide, and avert your eyes from the pictures. 

Your gaze falls on a vase full of flowers standing proudly in the middle of the dining table. It looks familiar, you think, that combination of flowers. Maybe you’ve seen it at the flower shop? No, they’re too messy; they look too handpicked. You stare at the bouquet a little longer, and that’s when it clicks. 

It’s the flowers Jaehyun picked on the way home that day you talked to him for the first time. 

“I got the keys, let’s go.” 

His voice startles you a little, but you only nod, following him out the door. So he picked the flowers for his parents? Or, judging from the way they were carefully placed around the vase so as not to leave any holes, he picked them for his mom. That’s… surprising. And adorable, as much as you hate to admit it. 

Jaehyun opens the garage door only to reveal an old-looking, black BMW. He unlocks it and opens the door for you to climb in. 

“Is this your car?” you ask him hesitantly. 

He smiles as you slide into the seat. “Nope, it’s my dad’s.” 

“And did you get permission to drive it?”

“Nope,” he repeats, grinning, and walks around the car to climb into his seat. “Isn’t that what makes it exciting?”

You probably shouldn’t be letting him drive around in his father’s car like that, but you’re late for class and his excited smile is slowly working to loosen up the nervousness in your stomach, so you just glare at him and whisper a quiet ‘you crazy jerk’ under your breath. He hears it and laughs as he starts driving, your own lips quirking up in a smile as he does so. Who knew Jung Jaehyun would turn out to be your savior today? 

“So, how does it work?” you ask him as he pulls out of the driveway. “Being an athlete, I mean. Do you have any classes or do you just play football all day?” 

“I have classes, too, unfortunately,” he sighs dramatically. “I major in physical education, just in case everything goes to shit. At least I’ll be able to coach teams. But other than that, I just play. Four hours a day.”

You’d kind of expected to have to hold on for dear life, but he’s driving smoothly, only one hand on the steering wheel. His shoulders are relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips while he talks to you, eyes drifting to the side to look at you only for a split second before they’re back on the road. It’s obvious he’s driven a lot before, and you kind of want to know where, but it seems like the wrong setting to ask a question like that, so you don’t. You’ll ask him next time. 

Next time. You almost want to laugh as you realize you’re subconsciously planning to meet Jung Jaehyun again. It’s not like you were expecting to never see him again, but it’s the want behind the words that catch you a little off guard. The fact that you want to meet with him again. 

“Four hours?” you ask finally, joining him in watching the road. “Couldn’t be me.”

“What do you major in, then? English?”

“Nope,” you clown him and he smiles wider. “Journalism. I might be the reporter interviewing you after your next match, so you better be nice to me.”

“I see,” he uses his free hand to fish out his phone from his pocket, pressing it against his lips as if it’s a microphone. “So you’re gonna be all like ‘Hello, everyone, I’m here with national football team member Jung Jaehyun, who just scored fifteen goals in the match against—’”

“Fifteen? You think you’re gonna score fifteen goals?”

“Well, of course. Don’t you believe in me?” His face forms into a mock-offended expression. 

“If I say no, will you throw me out of the car?”

“Probably.” 

You grin widely. “Then I believe in you a hundred percent.” 

The drive ends earlier than expected — maybe it’s true what they say, that time passes by quicker when you’re having fun — and suddenly, Jaehyun’s parking the car outside of your university. Many people are already there, and you spot Beomgyu and Dahyun standing by the entrance. Jaehyun turns off the engine and you reach for the belt, but even as you push down on the button with all your strength, it won’t budge. 

“What the hell?” you mumble, pulling at the belt harder in annoyance. 

You feel Jaehyun’s hand on your wrist and look up, only to see him leaning in your direction. For a moment, your heart stills and your body freezes. His hair falls into his eyes as his nose stills a mere centimeter from your own and his hand rests on the part of the seat right next to your head. From the corner of your eye, you can glimpse his arm muscles flexing, his brows furrowed in concentration. Is he about to kiss you? If so, you should totally push him away, but you can barely register what’s happening before he’s pulling away again, sinking back into his seat. 

What the hell did he do that for? 

“The car’s a bit old.” 

You blink a couple times, brain trying to process just how the fact that his car is old correlates to anything that just happened. You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself or something, but he just raises a brow, like you’re the one acting weird. 

That’s when you notice the seatbelt no longer restraining your movements. Oh. Oh. He was loosening your seatbelt for you because you couldn’t do it. 

Holy fuck, just how dumb can you be? Your heart hiccups inside your chest and you almost want to bang your head against the headboard of the car. For a moment of clarity, you slip out from your seat and leave the car, closing the door behind you. A second later, Jaehyun does, too and he looks at you from over the car. 

“Thanks,” You tell him, feeling a little bad you just got up from the car like that. “For driving me and for, uh, loosening the seatbelt for me.” 

The smile makes its way back to his face. “No problem.” 

Fuck, his happiness is contagious. You don’t even try to fight back your own smile. A glance down on your phone tells you your classes are about to start, so you tell him you need to go and giggle softly when he presses his lips out in a pout. He bids you goodbye with his hands in his pockets, leaning against his car. 

And just like that, you make your way to the university building, grinning like crazy. A pair of girls walk by, and you swear you hear them say your name, but they look away the moment you meet their gaze, so you don’t think too much of it. Your friends are waiting for you by the entrance and you greet them normally, a little taken aback when you see Dahyun’s frown and Beomgyu’s unusually grinning face for it to be half past eight in the morning. 

“Y/N,” Dahyun starts as you’re walking to the classroom. “Please tell me I’m wrong, but did I just see you getting out of Jung Jaehyun’s car?”

“I—”

“I knew it! You guys are totally fucking. I can see it in your eyes,” Beomgyu exclaims before you can even respond to Dahyun’s question. “Tell me your secrets, please. How did you bag the hottest player on the football team?” 

“I didn’t bag anybody,” You whisper-shout, looking around frantically as if someone’s going to listen in on your conversation. “We’re just neighbors.”

“And you let every neighbor of yours drive you to school?” Dahyun’s judgemental stare makes you feel bad. What if she’s mad at you? 

“No, I guess not, but—”

She cuts you off, lips forming into a smile as she grabs you by the shoulders. “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner, you idiot?” 

“What?” You look between her and Beomgyu, utterly confused. 

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, you shouldn’t keep secrets from me,” Dahyun pouts. “I’m not mad you’re talking to him, but hello, don’t I deserve to at least know how big his dick is?” 

You burst out laughing, relief washing over you. Thank God they’re not angry, because you have no idea what you would do without their useless comments and endless teasing. “And how am I supposed to know that?”

“Because you bagged him,” Beomgyu sings awfully loudly. 

You push him. “No, I didn’t!” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Dahyun stops you from lounging at him. “Just promise me you’ll tell me everything from now on, okay? I want to know every little detail about this ‘friendship’ or whatever. Don’t you realize this is the most exciting thing that’s happened since Seonghwa’s party last weekend?” 

You laugh. “Okay. I promise.” 

And you walk into class pretty happy with the outcome of things. 

—

It’s not before your classes have ended that you hear the rumors spreading. 

It happens by accident the first time you hear someone talk about it. A group of girls is standing by the vending machine as you’re buying a coca cola, and you happen to overhear their conversation. Or at least, a part of it. You pretty much only catch your name and Jaehyun’s, and then one of the girls nudges their friends and gesticulates to you. That makes them walk away, and you’re left standing by the vending machine baffled. 

What’s even more surprising, Dahyun doesn’t know anything when you ask her about it. It’s only when the two of you approach Minjeong, a gossip girl at most, that you find out what this whole ordeal is about. 

“People are saying you’re dating Jung Jaehyun,” She tells you like it’s obvious. “Someone saw you getting out of a car with him, so everyone is on edge because he might be off limits now. ” 

“Well, you can tell them he’s not off limits,” you say instantly. “Because we’re not dating.”

Then you head directly to the football field. 

You see him the moment you arrive — Jung Jaehyun in all his glory, hair sweaty and legs quick as he dribbles the ball. He’s in the middle of the field, way too far away for you to shout at him. Hesitantly, you walk closer to the sidelines, where the substitute players sit. You spot who you suppose is Jaehyun’s coach, shouting something you can’t quite make out to those on the field. 

You watch them play and for just a moment, you forget why you’re here. At that moment, as you glimpse Jaehyun passing the ball to one of his teammates, you kind of understand why people go to football matches. There’s something nice about seeing people so passionate and letting that passion be the only thing occupying your thoughts. 

Jaehyun’s yell fills the air not a minute later — your own lungs tightening in something that resembles fear, because what if he’s hurt himself? — but then he turns around and he’s smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile, and you become aware that he scored a goal. And there’s that passion again. You can't help but smile.

“Can I help you?” It’s his coach that breaks your train of thought, walking up to you with a curious look on his face. 

“Oh, right,” You say. “I’m just here for Jaehyun.”

He sends you a somewhat pitiful look. “Want me to give him your number and have him call you back later? Jaehyun doesn’t really like responding to date proposals during practice.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Hey, coach, it’s fine,” Jaehyun walks over to where you and his coach are standing. Half of his team follows him — some of which are looking at you curiously, while others completely ignore your presence. You turn to Jaehyun with an eyebrow raised and he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry about that, it’s just—”

“—Sometimes all those girls get a little too much?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. 

He smiles again. “Yeah, something like that.” 

You tell him it’s fine and that you want to talk to him for a second, but it seems that he has different plans from how he grabs your wrist and drags you in the opposite direction of where you wanted. You ask him what the hell he’s doing, but he keeps silent and brings you back to the football field.

Now you’re left standing in between a dozen football players and their coach with Jung Jaehyun’s hand holding yours. Great, this is certainly going to help you get rid of whatever rumor is stirring up at campus about you two. 

“Okay, listen up, everyone,” You stare at him with wide eyes as he catches everyone’s attention. “This is Y/N, and she’s my friend, so I don’t want anyone acting stupid around her or I’ll hit them in the head with a football.” 

And just like that you’ve been (against your will) introduced to the whole football team. Oh, Jaehyun is so in for it when you get him alone. You swear you’re going to rip all of that healthy hair off his scalp. That doesn’t happen, though. Instead, you kick him in the shin with all your might after having dragged him behind the university building. 

“Ow!” He groans and you almost smile, but hold yourself back upon realizing you can’t break character like that. “What was that for?”

“I just don’t like you,” you say, then sigh. “Have you heard what people are saying about us?”

“People are saying stuff about us?”

You roll your eyes at his cluelessness, but not before your heart jumps all the way to your throat at how unbelievably good he looks. This is just objective, by the way, and has nothing to do with your personal opinion. It’s just that nobody should look good after running around a football field for four hours, but somehow, Jung Jaehyun does. 

You’re not sure what does it for you — whether it’s his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead or the compression shirt you oh-so-hate literally having become one with his body — but all of it just makes you want to die. Because this is Jung Jaehyun we’re talking about and he’s just some guy that thinks he’s better than everyone else and you don’t like him at all.

But then your brain decides to remind you that this is also the Jung Jaehyun that wants to make the national team and picks flowers for his mom and drives you to school when you’re running late. And your heart doesn’t like that. Not at all. 

“People think we’re dating,” you say finally. “Because you drove me to school.”

“And?” 

“What do you mean ‘and?’” You glare in his direction, but he only shrugs. “Do you know how fast rumors spread around this university? Soon everyone is going to—”

“And what if they do? Do you really care that much what others think of you?” You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He tilts his head to the side, and when you don't respond, he takes a step in your direction, only another step away from caging you against the wall of the building. For some weird reason, it makes you nervous having him this close to you, so you step back until your back hits the wall. “Besides, would it really be that bad if what they’re saying were true?” 

“What?” 

You should tell him he’s stupid, or punch him, or do anything, but instead, you do absolutely nothing. Physically, that is — your mind is a whole different story. Your thoughts fly around in your brain so fast it makes you dizzy. Or maybe it’s Jaehyun’s words that are making you lightheaded, you’re not sure. 

Actually, you’re not sure about anything at that moment. Your first thought is that he’s acting way too arrogant again — that he’s trying to somehow make you admit you want to date him, or something like that. And that’s so ridiculous because you don’t want to date him at all — he’s truly pushing his luck now. Has ever since he asked to be your friend. 

But then images of him flash through your mind, his smile, his laugh, his passion, and it hits you like a truck — the nausea is so strong you think you might pass out. He’s gone completely insane, suggesting something like that — there’s no doubt about that — but aren’t you equally as insane for even playing out that scenario in your head? No. You throw the thought onto the ground and stomp on it, like it’s useless. Which, essentially, it is. 

No, you’re not doing this today. 

Upon seeing your expression. Jaehyun takes a step back. Maybe he thinks you’re disgusted. A part of you wants to assure him that you’re not, but the rational part screams at you to shut the fuck up and say nothing. Incidentally, it seems that Jaehyun has something to say. 

“Relax, it’s just a joke.”

That throws you off for multiple reasons. One, he’s acting like you just ruined his fun or something, and it makes you mad. Like it’s not you that just went through a year’s worth of scenarios in your head, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to figure out what to think. Two, he could've said it was a joke sooner, instead of just standing there like an idiot, seeing your face form into an expression of pure horror.

And three, you feel so fucking stupid for not even considering it being a joke. Because it seems so obvious now, as you think back on it, that he was just kidding. God, where did you even get the idea he was being serious? 

The embarrassment mixed with his gaze gets too overwhelming, so you do what any sane person would have done in your position. You walk away. 

You make it twenty steps before guilt stirs up in your stomach. What if he’s mad? What if he thinks you hate him? You truly have no idea why you even care about that — you don’t care about it, right? He’s just some football player, you remind yourself. A football player that hit you in the head with a football. But thinking about that doesn’t help at all, considering how getting hit in the head with a football was exactly how this thing started. 

What if it had never happened? What if he hadn’t kicked that ball in the wrong direction? He would have been a stranger to you, and you would only be a face in the crowd for him. Your name would never settle on his tongue. His dad wouldn’t have to get mad at him for taking the car without permission. And you… you wouldn’t have to feel guilty for walking away from your school’s football team’s forward center. 

But you wouldn’t have known that warm feeling spreading in your chest upon seeing his smile, either. Nor would you know how it feels like to feel happy just by talking to someone. Or just by listening to someone speak. 

The walk home suddenly becomes so long you almost want to sit in the middle of the path and wait for Jaehyun to come along. It turns out you don’t have to do that, because just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear the revving of an engine and an all too familiar black BMW appears a couple meters to your left. You don’t know if it’s fully surprising, but it definitely is somewhat unexpected when Jaehyun stops the car and rolls down his window to stick his head out in your direction.

“You getting in or what?” 

For some reason, your stomach decides to do a dozen flips at that moment, but you ignore them and climb into the car. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything at first — his eyes simply scan you quickly, resting a little longer on your eyes than necessary, and he turns on the engine again after he’s made sure your seatbelt is fastened. 

“I bought coffee,” he says finally, eyes fixed on the road, and motions towards a cup of coffee lying in his cup holder. “Latte with two cubes of sugar, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, grinning. “Thank you.”

His eyes flick to yours just for a moment, and his lips quirk up in a smile when he notices your expression. “You’re not annoyed?”

You look at him — his sweaty clothes, his stupid smile, the soft tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel. The trees outside are passing by quickly, the sound of the car blending in with the music quietly playing from the speakers. You’re hesitating for a split second, hand tightening around the cup of coffee that feels warm under your fingertips. The sun comes into sight at that moment, blending you as you first look at it, then lighting up the inside of the car. 

All hesitation fades, but not abruptly — it just flows out of your mind like water in a river. The sun remains still, but fragile, like what you say right now might scare it away. But you have no intention of scaring it away — why would you? It’s the same sun that envelopes you in a tight hug as you feel hopeless, the same sun that makes you smile. The sun that piqued your interest and doesn’t want to let go. 

“Well,” you take a sip of your coffee. “You’re a little stupid, but I already knew that. So no,” The sun lights up Jaehyun’s face as you smile. “I’m not annoyed.”

It’s as the words leave your mouth that you realize they’re true. 

—

After that, you and Jaehyun start walking home from school together. 

On days you finish class before him, he sits in the library and does his homework until you text him that you’re done. When his practice lasts until five, you make your way over to the field and sit on the tribunes, waiting for him to end the match. He loses track of time so often you almost become friends with his coach — a guy you find out has lots of comments to make as he watches the boys play. You don’t understand half of what he’s saying at first, but gradually, you learn — life makes a lot more sense after he explains what offside means.

Sometimes Jaehyun even drives you to school (he claims he’s got permission, but you don’t really believe him) even though his classes start half an hour after yours. One those days you pay him back by buying him Red Bull and watching him get way too much energy from it. 

Today is no different. You’re walking out the front door with a bag containing Red Bull and some side dishes from your mom in your hand, phone pressed against your ear as you try calling Jaehyun for the nth time. Your mom shouts something in your direction just as you’re closing the door behind you, but you don’t hear her, too focused on the sound of Jaehyun’s voicemail. 

“Asshole,” You mumble to yourself, dialing his number again. A long sigh escapes your lips when he doesn’t answer. Again. 

The lights in his room are off when you walk over there to check, so you scratch that from the list of possible places to look. Where else can he be at eight in the evening? You think for a while, and then an idea pops into your head.

The football field. 

You nod as if agreeing with yourself and start the walk to the one place you suspect Jaehyun might be. He better actually be there, because it’s getting dark and you have no other ideas as to where he might be. Plus, you’re not that keen on looking for him for three hours this late. 

The way to the football field seems much longer than it really is when you don’t have Jaehyun by your side and when the wind starts messing up your hair. By the time you’ve arrived it’s completely dark outside, and the only source of light is the moon and the lampposts by the small stadium. You almost want to go back when you don’t see Jaehyun anywhere — the air is getting chilly and you’re getting annoyed — but then, finally, he comes into your sight and you sigh in relief. 

He’s wearing black shorts and a jacket to shield him from the cold, one hand pushing his hair away from his face like always, while the other is holding his football. You stand by the edge of the field, watching as he places the ball on the middle of the fake grass. He doesn’t see you, too focused on aiming at the goal, so you just silently observe him as he kicks it, scoring on the first try. This time, he doesn’t scream in victory, but you can glimpse the shadow of a smile on his face. 

It brings a smile to your own features, seeing him this happy. He shoots the ball a couple more times, successfully scoring even as he increases the distance between him and the goal, his hair bouncing each time he runs across the field. You spot his phone on one of the side benches and roll your eyes softly, putting it into your pocket instead so he doesn’t forget it later. Your eyes dart back to his figure just as he kicks the ball again — this time missing — and you hear the groan of frustration he lets out even though you’re standing twenty meters away. 

Overachiever, you think to yourself, noticing how his thighs are a little shaky as he walks over to get the ball again. How long has he been here? He misses again, and you frown as he shouts out in anger. Yeah, he’s definitely been out here way too long. 

“Hey, Mr. I’m-too-busy-to-answer-my-calls,” you finally shout, catching his attention. The corners of his mouth lift up in a smile when he sees you, and you wave the bag of food and Red Bull at him from afar. “You hungry?” 

He jogs over to you with the football tucked under his arm. “You bet.”

There are bags under his eyes, and his forehead is littered with sweat. He looks tired. Still, he’s smiling — and somehow, from under all that exhaustion, the smile reaches his eyes. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask him, sitting down on the grass. He sits across from you watching with hungry eyes as you unpack the food.

“A little over three hours now, I think.” He opens a can of Red Bull immediately and takes a sip of it, missing the way your eyes grow wide at his response. “I have a game next week, remember? Some club coaches are going to be there, so I need to do well if I want to be noticed.”

You lay out the food and hand him a pair of chopsticks. His shoulders look so slumpy you actually need to swallow down the urge to tell him to go home and rest. He wouldn’t listen to you anyway. Instead, you take some kimchi between your chopsticks and put them against his lips. “You’ll do well.”

He opens his mouth and slides the food off with his teeth. “You think so?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes and nudge his leg with your foot. “Now eat. You can’t play for a football club if you’re unconscious.”

Jaehyun hums in response and obeys, stuffing his face full of rice. You eat in silence, slowly chewing on the food as your eyes scan his face. It’s funny, but for the first time you notice the freckles littered across his cheeks. You’d seen them before, you suppose, just never noticed them fully. For a moment, you try to count them, but give up when he starts chewing his food and you lose track of which ones you’ve counted and which ones you haven’t. 

You watch as his energy comes back slowly, his expression cheerful as he’s done eating. He helps you clean everything up and throw away the soda cans, then, as you’re getting ready to leave, he bumps your shoulder. 

“Let’s play football.”

“What?” You raise your brows, looking at him incredulously. “You want me to play football? Is your brain fried from the Red Bull or something? Let’s just go home.”

He grabs your wrist before you can walk further away and when you turn around, he’s standing there with a pout on his face. 

“Just one game,” He pleads, tugging at your hand. “Please?” 

The warmth from his skin spreads across your body, and you hesitate. You hate playing sports, and playing with Jaehyun will most definitely result in you having to face the embarrassment of not being able to kick the ball correctly. Still, something jumps in your chest at the fact that you’ll spend less time with him if you decide to just leave. That resolves it. 

You sigh. “Fine.” 

He grins widely, dragging you across the football field. You have no choice but to follow, painfully aware of his fingers laced through yours. It’s not like it bothers you, at least you don’t think it does, but it’s different than what you’re used to, especially when it comes to him. You decide you’re thinking too much about it, and breathe out as he lets go of you to put the ball in the middle of the field. 

What you can’t seem to determine is whether that’s a sigh of relief or loss. 

“You know how to play, right?”

“Yeah,” You say, anxiously rummaging through your thoughts in order to remember everything his coach and those stupid football youtube videos told you. You only watched those in case some of Jaehyun’s teammates ever decided to ask you about your opinion on their game, but you suppose this is where they’ll come in handy. “Kind of.”

He laughs at the uncertainty in your voice. “I can work with that.” 

He steps back, motioning for you to start. Okay, you think to yourself, it’s going to be easy. You just need to dribble the ball, run past Jaehyun with it, and kick it into the goal. How hard could can that be?

It turns out it can be, and is, very hard. Especially when you’re playing against Jung Jaehyun. 

You somehow manage to keep the ball in check until you reach where he’s standing, but that’s when everything goes wrong. It’s like the football somehow levitates to his foot the moment he gets close enough, and his leg doesn’t even have to touch you for him to steal it away from you and score a goal a millisecond later. If you weren’t totally indifferent to football, you might’ve started crying from the humiliation just about now. 

You half-expect Jaehyun to end it there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he passes the ball to you and you barely manage to stop it before it rolls further down the field. He smiles that annoying smile of his — not a pitiful one that you were expecting, but rather a genuine one that forces you to swallow down your embarrassment. 

This time it works out better — you manage to get past Jaehyun, pushing him in the process which you’re sure would’ve gotten you a red card in a real match. 

“Hey, that’s against the rules!” 

You laugh, and faintly, from behind the wind rustling in your ears, you hear him laugh, too. His footsteps get louder behind you and you panic, shooting the ball, only halfway aiming at the goal. It doesn’t surprise you when it hits the metal pole on the left and bounces back, right between Jaehyun’s feet. 

“You can’t kick it like that if you want to score a goal,” he scolds you playfully as you turn around to face him, a little out of breath while he looks entirely relaxed. 

“Well, I don’t know how to kick it to score a goal,” you whine, throwing your hands up in the air. 

Jaehyun’s lips form a toothy grin, eyes lingering on your frame for a little longer than they probably should. Your hair’s a mess from running and your shirt has slid down your shoulder, exposing the strap of your bra. It’s weird how the sight suddenly makes his face feel warm — like when you told him he’d do well. Have you always looked this pretty, or is he just going crazy? Maybe you’re right and his brain actually got fried from all that red bull. 

He clears his throat as if to clear his thoughts and motions for you to come closer, eyes persistently looking anywhere but your exposed skin. “I’ll teach you, c’mere.” 

“Okay.”

You walk closer, gasping softly when he turns you around so you’re facing the goal, your back a couple inches away from his chest. He hates how much he likes that sound, how right it feels when his fingers brush over your skin in order to pull your shoulders back. His hot breath lands on your neck and you try your best not to shiver — he’s just showing you how to play football, for fuck’s sake, it isn’t that deep. The breath you take is, though. Deeper than it should be and you hope to God he doesn’t notice. 

“Your foot is supposed to move like this,” He demonstrates with his own foot, but you can’t really focus on anything besides his raspy voice right by your ear. “Just one fluid movement. You get it?” 

“Yeah.” 

But you don’t understand any of it — the quick beating of your heart, your ears that are ringing, the cold air that suddenly is out of reach when it was forcing itself on you mere seconds ago. None of it makes any sense at all, but you still nod your head in order for it not to seem too weird when you wriggle out of his grasp. 

Your eyes meet his when you turn around and he passes the ball to you again. His smile is pretty, just like it always is, but this time, your heart beats harder against your chest when you see it. You kick the ball and prepare yourself to have it taken away from you, but Jaehyun stands still as you pass him. Thanks to that, you manage to run up the field and score a goal. 

Before you can think twice about it, you turn around and smile in Jaehyun’s direction, voice laced with excitement as you shout. “I did it!”

He can’t hold back the grin that creeps onto his face. You look happy, he thinks, and your smile looks so sincere it makes something turn in his stomach. He almost wants to run up to you and hold you in his arms — he could’ve used the excuse that he’s proud of you for scoring, it wouldn’t be a complete lie — but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Or himself. 

“Of course you did, you’ve got the best teacher in the world,” he says instead, walking over to where you’re standing. “Let’s play for real now. First to score five goals wins.”

“So you’re telling me this wasn’t for real?” you ask with a pout and he chuckles. You’re about to walk to the middle of the field to play again when you feel a hand grab your wrist. 

Jaehyun turns you around and your confused eyes meet his when he takes a step closer, so his chest is only a few centimeters away from your face. “Wait a second,” he says, but it comes out more like a whisper. 

Before you get the chance to protest, his hand leaves your wrist and comes up to tug at your shirt instead. He pulls it further up your shoulder to hide the bra strap peeking through, and the way your skin forms goosebumps under his fingertips makes him bite his lip. It seems this whole action is having the opposite effect than he wanted it to. 

“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he explains.

It’s not a complete lie, but he has to admit covering you up had more to do with his wandering eyes than anything else. Still, you nod sweetly, and continue your way to the middle of the field. He follows you, reminded of what he’s here for. You’re playing football, and if there’s anything he’s good at, it’s that. But if that’s the case, why is his heart beating faster than normal?

He tells himself it’s the adrenaline, but it makes no sense even for him — you haven’t even started playing yet. 

Your blood pressure is still way too high as you kick the ball to Jaehyun, you’re sure of it. Yet you try to ignore it and focus on the game — you’re gonna need it. His foot stops it with ease, and in no time, he’s running with the ball almost glued to his shoes. He makes it way too close to the goal you’re supposed to be guarding, before you manage to remind yourself that you're here to play, not watch him mindlessly. 

And so you play. It doesn’t take long before Jaehyun scores two goals, shouting in triumph each time like he isn’t playing against someone who’s basically never touched a football before. You don’t mind it as much as you let on, though, and the whole thing actually becomes a little fun when you figure out how to regain the ball. 

You run and chase each other — he scores another goal and so do you (you’re pretty sure he went easy on you, just so you wouldn’t be discouraged) and then he scores twice again. That’s five goals, but he doesn’t stop playing, and neither do you. You play for almost fifteen minutes, in which he scores probably more than twenty goals, before you manage to catch him off guard and score a goal he isn’t prepared for. 

“Oh my god, did you see that?” You turn to him, jumping up and down like a kid. 

“You did well,” he shouts and you grin at him, pride swelling up in your chest at his expression. 

That’s when it starts raining. First, it’s just a couple drops, one hitting the tip of your nose, and then it’s pouring down, wetting your hair and clothes. You look up at the sky with a soft smile, faintly hearing Jaehyun whine in the distance.

“How come it’s always raining when we’re together?” he groans. 

“The sky wants to cry when it sees you, probably,” you reply, jogging up to him. Maybe if he was busy thinking about the rain, you’d be able to take the ball from him. “Stop complaining so much.”

But ultimately, he was right — the field is slippery and wet when it’s raining. This, you find it in the worst way possible. Namely by slipping right as you’re trying to take the ball from Jaehyun, your hands dragging him down with you as you fall. 

Jaehyun feels his heart stop for a second there as both of you fall to the ground. The rain is pouring harder than ever — his shirt is sticky, his hair is wet, but he feels lighter than ever as he props himself on his elbows not to crush you completely. Raindrops trickle down his face and fall onto yours — your nose scrunches as the cold water hits your skin, and the. it's sliding down your jaw to slip into your shirt. You. You're soaking, too, with your white shirt clinging to your body, letting him see the outline of your bra from underneath it. He does his best to keep his gaze on the grass, but his eyes seem to gravitate towards you no matter how hard he tries.

You look beautiful in that moment — he tries for a long time, but finds no other way to describe it. Just beautiful. You're smiling, no, laughing, and he feels your heartbeat against his chest like it's his own.

Suddenly, he wonders what it would be like to kiss you. It's new, that thought, but somehow it also feels familiar. Like it's always been there, buried somewhere inside his head, but only now has come up to the surface. Would you like it if he kissed you? Looking at your face, he truly can't tell. 

“Get off of me, Jaehyun!” you fake-cough and he laughs. “Do you want me to die?”

“I know CPR,” he replies, but makes no effort to stop you as you push him off. 

You'd expected him to hold back, but he doesn't, so you roll over one too many times, until he's the one lying with his back against the grass and you're straddling him. Oh, fuck. 

You freeze in your spot, every muscle in your body tightening as you realize just what you’ve done. It takes you a second to process it — how you’re looking right into his dark eyes, how you can feel his chest heaving from underneath you, abdominal muscles flexing right beneath your core. And even as you understand it, your body just won’t move. Especially when Jaehyun’s hands suddenly rest on your waist, causing your eyes to go wide, but your body staying still. 

It’s an innocent act, really. He just wants to help you get off of him. That’s his initial motive, at least. But Jaehyun kind of forgets how to think when his fingers unintentionally slip a little under your shirt and he comes in contact with your bare waist. It’s not like he’s never touched a girl’s skin before — he’s had a couple girlfriends, and he’s touched all of them — but it’s something about the fact that it’s you that makes his heart beat faster. 

He wonders for a brief moment whether your heart’s beating like crazy, too. Then you lay the palm of your hand on his bicep and he’s brought back to reality. Right. He wanted to help you get back down on the grass. 

His arms lift you off of him with ease and he helps you sit down on the field, your vision and thoughts only now clearing fully. You look at him, a little dazed, feeling the rain drip down your face. 

Jaehyun sends you a worried look. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him, only then realizing it’s true. 

“Wanna go home?”

You ponder on that for a second, looking up at the sky. It’s pouring and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon. At this rate, you’ll probably catch a cold. Still, you don’t feel like going home. For some weird, twisted reason, you want to stay here with Jaehyun. 

And so you say, “Not yet.” 

He nods, looking as if he’s in deep thought. You lie down on the wet grass next to his sitting frame, sighing deeply.  It takes a few nudges of your finger poking into Jaehyun’s ribs for him to understand you want him to lie down with you, and when he does, his face forms into an expression of disgust.

“The grass is wet,” he comments with his nose scrunched. 

“Yeah, that’s usually the phenomenon that occurs after it rains.” 

He rolls his eyes, but keeps silent. You smile softly, following in his steps. The sky is pitch black, and it’s most definitely way too late to be lying on the wet grass of a football field with Jung Jaehyun, but at that moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

As subtly as you can, you tilt your head to the side to look at Jaehyun. His eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and for a second, you think he might have fallen asleep. You shuffle a tad bit closer, just to make sure you can hear his breathing — which you can — but you end up staying there, with your hair resting on his shoulder. You’re unable to tell if it bothers him, so you just lie there, eyes flicking back to the sky and the few stars that are peeking through the clouds. 

“You wanna know a secret, Y/N?” He breaks the silence a minute or two later, his head turning in your direction as he looks at you through lidded eyes. The rain drips down his face, all the way to his lips, where it disappears into his mouth. You nod slowly, your heart beating nervously as the air around you seems to thicken. It’s almost like you can sense it — how he’s hesitating, how his heart is about to beat out from his chest.

“I’m scared,” He whispers finally. head falling forward so it rests against yours. “I’m really fucking scared.”

It’s like the earth stops spinning. Though that might just be the feeling of dizziness that comes with your blood pressure skyrocketing momentarily. His forehead burns your skin, but it’s more of a warm embrace rather than deadly flames. The rain’s slowing down, you notice only by watching his face, only a few of his freckles hidden behind raindrops.  

“What are you scared of?” 

Your voice is equally as quiet, like you’re afraid of scaring him off. Mostly, though, it’s because you don’t trust your voice not to quiver when he’s this close to you. Something about touching him makes you nervous, though you’re not sure why. 

“I don’t know. Everything, I guess,” He sighs and pauses, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck instead. You listen as he takes a few deep breaths, and feel them against the skin of your throat — warm air against cool flesh. “I’m scared that it won’t work out. That I won’t make the national team, and this will all be for nothing.”

You scrunch your nose as he moves away from you to glue his eyes to the sky instead. “You will make the national team, though.” 

“Even my parents don’t believe that,” He scoffs, but his voice breaks midway in the sentence and it’s like it tears your heart apart with it. “They don’t even want me to try out for the team, you know. They think I’m wasting my time and energy on something I’m not sure I can achieve. My dad wants me to study law or medicine, and my mom… I think she just wants to stop worrying whether I’ll get a job after college or not.”

You stay silent for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. Jaehyun’s breathing is heavy, his jaw clenched. You want to do something to ease his mind — hug him, tell him you believe in him, buy him all the red bull in the world — just anything. But you don’t know what to do or what to say, because you’ve never seen him like this. Vulnerable. 

Finally, you take a deep breath. “It’s understandable she’s worried—” 

“I know, but—”

“You didn’t let me finish,” You want it to come off as sharp, but it doesn’t. It does catch Jaehyun’s attention, though, and he turns to you again. “It’s understandable she’s worried, but if your parents doubt you can make the national team, they must be completely clueless to just how fucking stubborn you are.”

He blinks — you don’t know whether that’s a sign he’s confused or he’s listening attentively. Maybe it’s both. 

Without thinking it through too much, you place your hand on his. It’s just your skin resting against his, you’re not brave enough to hold his hand properly, but it still makes your heart pick up its pace. You’re not sure why you do it — whether it is to comfort him or yourself, but something in your stomach jumps as Jaehyun’s eyes flicker down to where your hands are connected. 

A sense of fear flashes through your head. What if holding his hand did the opposite of what you wanted? What if he’s disgusted? For a moment, you feel so nervous you think you might die. 

But then his fingers move across your skin and you look down just in time to catch him interlacing his fingers with yours. Suddenly, your skin is filled with goosebumps, and you have the suspicion it isn’t solely from the cold rain. You look at him, but his eyes still rest on the grass separating you two. Which is kind of relieving, because you need a second to calm yourself down and recollect your thoughts. 

“I mean, look at you,” you pick up where you left off, finally finding the right words, and only then does Jaehyun’s gaze find its way back to your face. “You’re the guy that started playing football against high schoolers in middle school because the people your age got mad you always won. Sorry to disappoint your parents, but you’re gonna make the national team. I know you will.” 

His chest heaves with every breath, strands of wet hair all up in his face. It’s stopped raining, and only then do you realize just how cold it is. Jaehyun stays silent for a few moments, his eyes never leaving yours. And just like how people say they drown in someone’s eyes, you find yourself swimming in his gaze. Floating, because drowning would mean dying and you’ve never felt more alive than right now. 

Jaehyun forces you out of your thoughts by moving your intertwined hands so they lie between your faces instead. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. You’re about to shrug it off, but he cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. “Don’t you dare say it’s nothing. I mean it.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he smiles for the first time since you lied down on the grass, and you shiver. His eyes don’t fail to notice, and he’s quick to say, “Let’s go home, I’m freezing.”

He’s not freezing, though. Actually, there’s some kind of weird, warm sensation bubbling in his chest as he stands up and pulls you with him. His fingers leave yours, which for some reason makes him feel a little sad, and he takes off his jacket, the cold air hitting him harder than ever. You raise your eyebrows, probably wondering why the hell he’s taking off his clothes when he just said he’s freezing. 

“Take this,” he hands you the jacket, which on second thought he realizes is completely soaked through and will probably do nothing to shield you from the cold. Jesus, he feels so dumb he wishes the ground would swallow him up. “Uh, it’s a little wet, but…”

You smile as you take the jacket from his hands. “Thank you.”

Jaehyun watches with a grin as you put it on, rolling up the sleeves that fall past your fingers. He thinks this might have been the best day of his life. 

No, he doesn’t think. This time, he knows. 

—

You never would’ve imagined yourself sprinting to college at 10am on a Saturday in order to watch a football game, yet here you are.

Truthfully, it’s your own fault. Staying up drinking with your friends the night prior probably wasn’t the best idea, but Dahyun complained you were spending too little time with them and too much time with Jaehyun, so you wanted to make it up to her. Little did you know that would result in you being woken up by your phone ringing, Jaehyun’s voice asking you where the fuck you are. 

“I’m on my way, don’t worry,” You had responded, obviously lying — for what reason, Jaehyun wasn’t sure, because he clearly heard it in your voice that you were barely awake. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

That was fifteen minutes ago. Turns out you aren’t a complete liar, though, because just as your phone shows 10:15 (meaning the game starts in five minutes) you have reached the football field, where the tribunes are pretty much packed. You look around to find Dahyun or Beomgyu, but there’s too many people, so you walk closer to the sidelines instead, hoping to spot Jaehyun’s coach. 

You see him outside of the locker room — he’s surrounded by the whole football team, and you catch a glimpse of Jaehyun in his black uniform. His brows are furrowed as he says something, maybe he’s explaining some playing strategy, and then his teammates are nodding along and the coach pats him on the back. You smile softly at the scene, but then a voice announces that the game is starting in two minutes through the speakers and you have the sudden urge to wish Jaehyun good luck. 

“Jaehyun!” You shout, jogging up to him just as he’s about to follow his teammates onto the field. He turns around, and his confused expression molds into a grin as his eyes meet yours. 

“You made it,” He says, and you nod. His gaze moves down to your body, and you wonder if you put on your shirt the wrong way or something, but then he smirks. “Nice jacket, by the way.”

You furrow your brows and look down, only for your heart to skip a beat as you realize what you’re wearing. His jacket. The one he gave you when you were playing football a couple days ago, and you never bothered to give it back because you always forgot about it. And because it smells nice, but you’d never admit that. 

Shit. You must’ve put it on by accident due to being in a hurry this morning. 

“Oh, I was just about to take this off, actually. I just brought it with me to give it to you and—”

“Keep it,” He cuts you off with that awful smirk on his face. Does the football field give him some sort of confidence boost or something? “It looks better on you, anyway.”

It’s almost suffocating, the warmth stirring up in your chest at his words. Like your heart’s tightening and not letting you breathe, except you’re breathing just fine, almost getting drunk on the amount of air in your lungs. It’s a paradox, you suppose, just like you desire to be with him simultaneously to how you hate your heart for beating faster around him. 

“Thanks,” You say. One look at the field and the tribunes overfilled with people makes you remember how much of an important day this is to Jaehyun, so you take a deep breath and say, “Good luck, by the way. Not that you need it.” 

He smiles as the judge blows into his whistle, signaling the game is starting. “How about a good luck kiss?”

“Now you’re really pushing your luck, Jung Jaehyun,” You literally feel your inside turn to mush as you push him further onto the field. “Go play before they start without you. Go!” 

“You gotta watch the whole thing, okay?” He shouts, running backwards as the ball is kicked for the first time and the game starts. “Don’t you dare leave!” 

And just like that, he runs to help his teammates, leaving you on the sidelines with a smile on your face. 

Dahyun and Beomgyu are still nowhere to be seen, so you ask Jaehyun’s coach whether you can sit on the side benches a few moments later when your legs start to get tired from standing. He’s standing alone, too focused on the game to talk to anyone — at least until you approach him. Much to your surprise, he seems like he expected your question and takes you to where the substitute players are seated. 

“Thank God you finally came,” Jaehyun’s coach says as you both sit down, watching the players run across the field. “Jaehyun looked like he was about to cry when I told him there were ten minutes left before the game and you still hadn’t shown up.”

You chuckle. “I think you’re over-exaggerating, Coach.” 

Your eyes are glued to the field when Jaehyun’s team scores their first goal — Jaehyun cheers loudly and so does the audience, and you see a soft smile on his face as he pats his teammate’s back. He looks proud and happy — it’s nice seeing him like that after all the nights he spent preparing for this match. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

You turn your head in the coach’s direction momentarily, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sends you a knowing smile that you miss when your gaze flicks back to the game. “I’m not over-exaggerating. He’s crazy about you. At practice, he’s unfocused, because he’s waiting for you to come. He leaves early and says he’s tired, but instead of going home, he drives to the coffee shop. Some days his eyes will be drooping and he won’t talk to anyone, but then you sit on the sidelines and suddenly, he’s the happiest man alive.”

The opposing team scores and your heart sinks in your chest, Jaehyun’s frustrated scream filling your ears. You don’t know whether he’s screaming so loudly, or if you’re just hearing his voice because he’s all that matters to you on that field. The coach’s words are like a ticking bomb inside your brain — you can tell from how he’s looking at you from the side that he wants to say something more. Quietly, you pray he won’t, that he’ll forget about this conversation, that your heart will calm down. That Jaehyun will win and you’ll go back home praising him for his skills and he will be happy and you won’t have to think too much about everything that’s messing with your head. 

“I mean, I don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but what I do know is that I’ve never seen Jaehyun act like that before. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he might be in love with you.”

“Good thing we both know better, then,” you reply, but your voice is shaky. Insincere. “Besides, even if he did feel that way, I don’t like him like that at all.”

You’re not sure whether you’re trying to convince Jaehyun’s coach or yourself. 

When the judge announces a break and Jaehyun comes to sit by your side about ten minutes later, there’s a million thoughts inside your head, but you push all of them back to send Jaehyun a smile. 

“You didn’t leave,” he says breathlessly.

“Yet.” 

He pouts. “Mean.” 

You watch as he gets a bottle of water and opens it above his head. The water splashes in his hair and trickles down his face while the sun illuminates his frame. His uniform is clinging to his body with sweat, legs just slightly shaking when he stands up so the water doesn’t spill on you. He looks beautiful, you realize with a bitter heart — so beautiful it makes you want to rip your hair out. 

“You’re staring.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, breath hitching in your throat at his comment and smirk. “I was only looking to tell you you look awful.”

He’s about to retort something, but the whistle blows again and he needs to leave. A little too early for your taste. You get that he’s here to play football, but surely they can afford to give him five more minutes to relax? Your hand moves before your mind, grabbing his wrist before he walks away and turning him around. 

“I won’t leave, just so you know. I was just joking.”

You’re not sure why you say it or why you’re so reluctant on letting him go, but Jaehyun doesn’t question your behavior. At least not out loud. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he grins, teeth on display as the wet hair falls into his eyes. 

The judge shouts at him to get back immediately and so, a little panicked and a little infatuated, you reach forward without thinking too much and push the hair strands out of his face. You’ve thought about doing it so many times that it doesn’t dawn on you that you actually pushed his hair out of his eyes before your gaze meets his and you notice the shock on his face. 

“So your aim won’t suck,” You explain quickly. “Don’t want you to hit anyone in the face just because your hair’s in your eyes.”

Jaehyun tries his best to keep the blush from creeping up his neck at your touch and at the way you seem nervous, too. Silently, he makes a promise to himself that if he wins this game, he’ll tell you he wants you to come to every single one of his games from now on. If he doesn’t… well, that would be really fucking embarrassing and he’s trying to impress you here, so he decides to throw that option away completely. 

“Right,” he says to you, unable to hide his smile. 

And then he’s running away with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

When there’s two minutes left of the match and Jaehyun’s team is winning by three goals, you’re smiling like crazy, ready to start shouting in glee any second. 

But as Jaehyun runs close enough for you to see his face clearly, he doesn’t look happy at all. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him, and in that moment, you truly wish you could read his mind. He should be celebrating, no? It’s certain his team will win. 

That’s when you remember what he said that night roughly a week ago: Some club coaches are going to be there, so I need to do well if I want to be noticed. 

He hasn’t scored any goals for his team, except one that was a penalty kick. You look at him again, and this time it’s obvious — the shame in his eyes. You want to shout at him that he’s stupid to think he did bad just because he hasn’t scored some extraordinary goal, but instead, you settle on squeezing the arm of the bench as hard as you can, until your knuckles turn white. 

“You love him, don’t you?”

“What?” 

You wish the question surprised you more than it did, and you definitely wish the answer to it didn’t pop up in your head immediately. Easily, like it’s an exam question you’ve studied for a week to answer, the exact question you expected to be asked. But you’ve put the pieces together — whether that happened the day he drove you to school or ten seconds ago, you don’t know — and the puzzle doesn’t need any more solving. 

“You love Jaehyun,” the coach repeats, and this time, your whole body breaks out in flames at his words. 

“Yeah,” you say finally, eyes on Jaehyun as he manages to take the ball from someone on the opposing team. “Yeah, I do.” 

Jaehyun’s foot moves smoothly — one fluid movement, just like he told you — as he kicks it. It cuts through air quickly, but it’s enough time for everyone to hold their breaths in suspense, the tribunes growing deadly quiet. You don’t dare make a sound. But then it falls right into the goal, passing by the keeper’s shaky hands and the silence shatters with the sound of Jaehyun’s scream. It’s joy, pure happiness in the form of his voice and when he falls down on his knees with a smile wider than ever, you think you’d do just about anything to see him this happy again. 

His teammates surround him like moths drawn to a flame as the judge announces the game is over, mere seconds later. You’re just like them, in a way, because you can’t hold yourself back from standing up and walking onto the field yourself. 

“Jaehyun!” 

He turns from his teammates, meeting your gaze from where he’s standing a couple meters away from you. You send him a smile and suddenly, something wet is settling in the edge of your eyes. You blink it away, kind of embarrassed, yet it doesn’t stop you from practically running into his arms as he spreads them invitingly. 

You wrap your arms around his waist. nuzzling your head in his chest as his arms pull you into a warm embrace. His team is probably confused to no end, he thinks, but really, as long as it doesn’t bother you, he doesn’t care. No, actually, he does care, but only about the elation that stirs up in his heart at being this close to you, at smelling your hair, hearing your breath. It’s stupid, probably, but for the first time, his disappointed father wasn’t the first person to occupy his thoughts after he scored.

It was you. 

He pushes you away softly, only far enough to look down on your face while keeping his arms around your middle.

“Hi.” 

You smile up at him and it’s perfect. All of it — the crowd screaming for him, the adrenaline in his veins, you. He loves all of it. 

And so he responds with a “Hey,” and does what any other sane person would do.

He kisses you. 

He’s not sure what gives him the final push. Whether it’s the adrenaline from the match, your smile, or that intense feeling of pure love that fills him up to the brim, until it finally spills over and his lips land on yours. 

It’s not like he imagined, the kiss. In his daydreams, his pulse was steady and his heartbeat slow, lips moving in sync with your without mistake. Now, his palms are getting sweaty and his heart is beating out of his chest and there’s so much he wants to feel at once that his lips aren’t enough. His hands rest on your waist, but they shiver, and he wonders if it bothers you. You don’t seem to mind, though, so he brings his fingers to tilt your chin up a little, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. 

The sun warms up your face when he deepens the kiss — at least that’s what you tell yourself, feeling your whole body heat up the moment your chest is pulled flush against him. Your fingers sink into his hair, heart beating dangerously fast as you taste him on your tongue. It’s like some sort of mantra — just Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun inside your head. 

Even as he pulls away to breathe, all the cheering coming from his teammates barely reaches your ears, drowned out by the sound of his breathing heavy against your lips. 

You love him. There’s no doubt about that; not anymore. There might’ve been before — you can’t really remember when your brain’s foggy from the fact that you just kissed Jung Jaehyun — but now, you simply feel like your heart will explode any second if he doesn’t kiss you again. 

“Y/N,” He says instead and you look at him expectantly.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna know a secret?” 

“Always,” you reply, voice a little shaky. It’s true, though — you want to hear all his secrets and store them away in the deepest corner of your soul along with all the small moments you’ve been hiding there ever since you met him. 

“I’m in love with you,” he breathes finally, and you feel his grip on your waist tighten. Like he’s afraid you’ll run away from him. “I’m really fucking in love with you.”

Really, though, you’re far from running away. If anything, you wish you could stay in this moment forever — looking up at his face, lip pulled between his teeth and his chest heaving with each breath. The people around you are a part of the background, you can faintly hear some whispers of Jaehyun’s name, but almost everyone is busy celebrating their win. You’re also busy celebrating, your heart doing somersaults, your brain still trying to process what was just said.

Jung Jaehyun is in love with you. And you’re in love with him. 

“Can you please say something? I’m about to die from embarrassment here.”

“Sorry,” you giggle, looking at the way Jaehyun’s scratching his neck. “It’s just that this is the first time I’m seeing you this nervous. It’s cute.”

He puts on an utterly scandalized expression, burying his face in his hands as his ears go red. “Cute? Oh my God, now I’m going to have to switch football teams and—” 

“I’m in love with you, too, stupid,” you cut him off with a grin, pulling him closer so your chests are touching again and you have to lift your head up to look him in the eyes. “Even if your shirt is soaked with sweat.”

“You like it when I’m all sweaty, though.” Suddenly, he’s regained his confidence, making your heart beat harder when his hands cup your cheeks and he leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. Is it awful that you feel something turn in your stomach at the sight of his bare arms this close to your face? Probably — but honestly, you don’t care. “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen how you’re looking at me during practice.”

Your breath hitches and you push him away, trying your best to ignore the warmth spreading across your body. “You’re delusional, Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m also your boyfriend, so I’d say it’s a win,” He grins, intertwining his fingers with yours, but then his smile falls for a moment, replaced by a tentative gaze in your direction. “I am your boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” You smile and the gleeful expression returns to Jaehyun’s face. “Yeah, you definitely are.” 

—

Jaehyun is impatient. Always has been, and probably always will be. 

Only that until now, it hasn't been a problem. In fact, his coach always used to say that his restlessness is what makes him a great football player. That it's a blessing. 

But right now, as Jaehyun finds himself getting impatient at his football game because his mind is filled with thoughts of you, he thinks it's more like a curse. A strong one at that. Because how the fuck is he supposed to focus on kicking a football when you're sitting on the tribunes, waiting for him in the tiniest skirt he's ever seen?

Okay, so maybe it's his own fault, because you did ask him what you should wear to his game this weekend and he had picked out the skirt himself. But you had sent him a picture of it on the floor, not around your hips, and he never would’ve imagined it being this short. Besides, had he known you’d wear a low-cut top with it, he would’ve told you to wear jeans, because dealing with a boner on the field isn’t exactly ideal. He doesn’t even want to think what his teammates will say if they notice his state. 

You’re not completely innocent in this matter, though. Putting on that top that makes his eyes linger on your cleavage a second too long and shamelessly staring at him during the whole game is most definitely intentional. You’re not evil, though — it’s just that dating the hottest footballer on the school team is supposed to have its perks, right? 

And one of them should be getting to fuck him after a game, because — as much as you hate to admit it — he does look hot all sweaty. 

You sit on the bench silently, cheering when Jaehyun’s team scores a goal and blowing kisses in his direction when nobody sees. It’s kind of funny just how quickly you managed to go from being his friend to making out with him every chance you get. Now, after just a month of dating, you know everything about him and yet you want to know more. What you love most, you think, is that there’s always something more to find out.

Like whether Jaehyun will let you drag him into the locker room after the game. 

Your prediction after seeing him look in your direction countless times during the match is that he will, but, just like everything about him, it’s uncertain. But that’s just what makes it even more exciting to wrap your arms around his neck after his team has won, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him. It isn’t the first or even twentieth time you’re kissing him, but feeling his lips on yours feels just as amazing as ever. 

“Hello to you, too,” he mumbles against your lips, slipping his fingers under your shirt so he can grab your bare waist. It tickles where he touches you, like fire spreading across your skin. “You liked the game?”

“Not really, it was boring,” you tell him and he rolls his eyes with a soft smile. “I don’t even know why I come to these things.”

“Because you love me, that’s why.” 

“You’re so overconfident,” you click your tongue, unable to hide your smile as he pulls you even closer, so you’re flush against him. “But I guess seeing you in this uniform makes up for it.”

He grins at your words.

“Told you. You love coming to my games.” 

“Mhm.” You rest your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “Don’t you think I deserve a reward for being such a good girlfriend?”

You watch as he processes your words, eyebrows raising. His lower lip trembles just in the slightest as he figures it out — in the exact same way it does before a big game or when he’s dying to kiss you. He might be sending you a careless look, but from how the tips of his ears are tinted pink, it seems he’s less unbothered by your proposition than what he’d like to be. 

“You wanna go home?”

He asks the question casually, but his fingers grip your waist tighter. 

“No,” you reply and he furrows his brows, tilting his head to the side. “It’s too far away.” 

“Too far away?”

“Mhm.”

You stand on your tiptoes to nuzzle your nose into his cheek, lips lightly brushing over his dimple. He smiles softly and you take the opportunity to press a kiss to his cheek, before moving lower. You can hear him swallow when you kiss down his jaw, head instinctively tilting a little to the side to let you continue onto his neck. He didn’t really plan on giving in this easily — teasing you is his favorite thing, after all — but your wet kisses against his skin are enough to make him cave. 

It’s only when your lips reach his collarbones and he feels himself growing hard from underneath his shorts that he remembers you’re standing in the middle of the football field, where everyone can see you. 

He inhales sharply as your lips suck on a spot just above his collarbone, hand grabbing your waist tighter. “What do you want to do then?”

“Come with me.” You don’t miss a beat, pulling away to grab his hand. 

Jaehyun’s teammates are long gone as you lead him in the direction of the sidelines — some changing in the locker rooms, others probably on their way home by now. The weight of Jaehyun’s hand in yours calms your nerves a little, because — as much as you hate to admit it — he still manages to make you nervous with his presence, especially when he’s in that goddamn uniform and his ego is over the roof. 

You drag him further along the football field, and stop by the locker rooms, pressing your ear against the door of the first one. 

“What are you doing?” 

You don’t reply to his question, just shake your head as you hear the water running from one of the showers, and move on to the next locker room. This one is completely silent when you listen for any noise and you smile in victory, pulling Jaehyun’s hand harder as you slip inside. 

“Y/N, what are you-”

You cut him off, pulling at his shirt so he leans down and allows you to kiss him, this time on the lips. He gives in immediately, hands flying to cup your cheeks and tilt your head backwards so he can slip his tongue inside your mouth with ease. You stumble a few steps back, the plan to double-check whether there’s anyone here long gone from your mind as you kiss him. 

Jaehyun’s hands fall lower, to your hips, and he pulls you closer only to rest his leg between your thighs. You shiver at this, letting out a shaky breath into his mouth. He smiles against your lips, obviously satisfied by your reaction, and slips one of his hands inside your shirt. You feel it travel upwards, creating goosebumps on your bare skin before he manages to unclasp your bra and take it off so you’re left with only your tank top, nipples showing through the thin fabric. 

It’s him that pulls away first, eyes taking in your state and a groan leaving past his lips. “Is it bad I really want to fuck you stupid right now?” 

If bad means your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortably wet, then sure, it’s bad. But mostly, you think you might die if he doesn’t touch you again.

“The only bad thing is that you’re not doing anything about it.”

You pout at him, feeling something turn pleasantly in your stomach when he pulls his lip between his teeth, jaw set. He looks so good it drives you insane — shirt sticking to his muscles, thigh on display from where it’s resting between your legs. If he just moved it up an inch or two…

“Jae…” you say, and his eyes move up to look at your pleading face. “Would you please do something?”

He raises a brow, and presses down on your hips, testing the waters. Sure enough, you let out a half-suppressed whimper when your clothed pussy just slightly touches his thigh. He smiles at that, flexing his thigh as he does it again, your nails digging into his biceps as he guides your hips along his leg. It makes your head spin when your pussy is dragged back and forth against his skin, and you practically moan out his name as you tug at his arm. 

Tilting his head to the side, he smiles. “You want it that bad?” 

“Need it, Jae, please.” 

“God, you’re so needy,” he presses his tongue against his cheek. “Alright, if you want it so bad, I guess I’d be really mean not to give it to you, right?”

You don’t need any more assurance. Quickly, you grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, knuckles grazing his sweaty muscles on the way up. Your eyes take a second to admire his bare chest, and you can only imagine how widely he’s grinning from the way you’re rubbing your thighs together in order to ease the heat forming there. You’ll worry about the consequences of your own actions (Jaehyun’s relentless teasing) later, though — for now, you’re more than happy with the promise that he’ll give you what you want. 

Goosebumps form on his skin when you press a kiss against his collarbone — picking up where you left off earlier. You smile against the flesh, looking up at him as you let your teeth bite down just slightly, enjoying how his brows furrow and his fingers squeeze your breast in response. His abdominal muscles feel firm under your lips as you kiss them — slowly, because seeing him go crazy is one of your favorite things in the world. 

He bites down on his lip as your kisses move further down, tongue swiping over his abs before you reach the waistband of his pants. You can see the outline of his cock through his shorts — probably hard and leaking for you, and the thought forms a throb between your legs. Letting your fingers move downwards, you palm him through the fabric, which makes a soft groan escape past his lips.

“Stop.” You look up as Jaehyun tugs at your hair, his eyes hazy and chest heaving. Confused, you blink up at him, but he only pulls you up and against him, his cock just barely rubbing against your thigh. “Wanna feel you.”

You don’t really get to respond as he drags you further into the locker room, walking all the way to the corner of the room, where the lockers are. 

It’s unexpected when he spins you around, hands positioned on your hips as he pushes you softly so your chest comes in contact with the cool locker. You gasp quietly as the cold seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, your first instinct to pull back, but Jaehyun holds you in place. His hand slips under your top and comes up to play with your tits to warm you up, and you sigh into his touch when he pinches your nipple lightly. 

“Okay?” he asks, his breath hitting your ear, and it takes you a second to register he actually wants you to answer. 

“O-okay,” you mumble shakily upon feeling Jaehyun’s other hand on your inner thigh, slowly inching towards the throbbing between your legs. 

His fingers pinch your thigh and you shudder, biting your lip when his knuckles brush over your clothed pussy from underneath your skirt. Your panties are completely soaked, some of your arousal probably seeping onto Jaehyun’s fingers when he rubs his fingers against you again — slowly, so softly you have to stop yourself from whimpering for him to give you more. 

He understands it even without your words, though — probably from how your hips involuntarily move back to meet his fingers — and lifts up your skirt so he can pull your panties down your legs. You help him eagerly, lifting your legs and meeting his gaze for just a moment as you take the opportunity to turn your head. He sends you that smile that makes your knees buckle before grabbing your hips again and pulling them against the bulge in his pants.

There might be a layer of clothing separating your pussy from his cock, but you still let out a mewl at the feeling of finally creating some friction. You just know Jaehyun’s wearing a grin when he pulls away from you again, only to replace his hips with his fingers that make you shiver when they come in contact with your bare cunt. He slides them back and forth through your folds, spreading your arousal across your pussy before he rubs your clit in circles, making you clench around nothing. Your head falls against the locker, a small whimper escaping past your lips. 

“Yeah?” He retracts his fingers momentarily, only to deliver a slap to your cunt — which makes your mouth part in a broken moan. “This okay, too?”

You shiver, pushing your hips back even more. “Yeah.”

His hand grips your hip tightly as he teases your entrance with his finger before slipping it inside, your walls sucking him in immediately. You moan his name, spreading your legs wider so he can start slowly moving his finger, curling it inside your cunt in a way that makes you clench around him. Your mouth falls open as he adds another finger, pumping them in and out of your hole so well your legs feel weak after only a few pushes. 

If it weren't for your hazy mind, you definitely would have felt embarrassed at the loud sounds of his fingers fucking you, but with his digits deep inside of you and his cock pressing against your ass from behind, you can't bring yourself to care. It feels so good you don’t want it to stop.

Except it does — a mere twenty seconds later, as you feel the familiar sensation of rapture start to stir up in your stomach, Jaehyun pulls his fingers away like you weren’t so close to reaching your high. 

You turn around with a pout on your face, legs slightly shaking. “Why’d you stop?”

You feel like you could cry, but Jaehyun only chuckles, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. You lean into his touch, whimpering into his mouth when he squeezes one of your tits. 

“Want you to cum on my cock,” he says against your lips and you shiver, feeling his hands drop to your hips, pulling you closer so his still clothed cock rests just beneath your throbbing pussy. “Okay?”

“Yes, please.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling as your hands move to pull down his shorts and boxers, mouth parting slightly when you take out his cock. You almost want to get on your knees and suck him off, but the painful throbbing between your legs tells you otherwise, so you only stroke him a couple times, kissing his jaw, before letting him turn you around again. 

His hands come up to your waist to lift your shirt over your head and throw it off somewhere. You let out a small whimper when your bare tits are pushed against the lockers, arousal pooling between your legs.

“What if somebody comes in?” you ask, admittedly more to hear his voice than to get an actual answer out of him. You're way past worrying about someone coming in by now.

Jaehyun clicks his tongue and you feel his cock press against your cunt, softly grazing your folds and coating itself in your arousal. “I guess you’ll just have to be a good girl and stay quiet so nobody does.”

Clenching around nothing at his words, your hands come up to hold the lockers so you don't fall to your knees from the simple sensation of him slapping your pussy with his dick. You try pushing your hips back to make him hurry, but he's intent on dragging his cock through your folds painfully slowly, paying no mind to the way you whimper as he comes in contact with your puffy clit. 

Thank God he's an impatient person, because his teasing doesn't last more than five seconds before he's lining up at your entrance, pushing in slowly with his hands coming up to play with your tits. You lean into his touch, moaning softly at the stretch and spreading your legs further to help him slide in. You don't really need to, though, because you're so wet he thrusts into your cunt with ease. 

“Shit, I love you so much,” He mumbles into your ear, a small groan escaping past his lips as he bottoms out, your walls tightening around him. “Love fucking this pussy. Always so wet and warm for me.”

You hold harder onto the lockers as Jaehyun starts rocking his hips into yours — slow, shallow thrusts that already have you biting your lip to muffle any sounds that threaten to spill from your mouth. Faintly, you hear the slam of a locker in one of the other rooms, and it only makes your cunt clamp down even harder on his cock. 

“You love it too, don’t you? Love having your pussy stuffed with my cock?” 

Jaehyun’s grip on your hips tightens as he pushes deeper into your cunt, your moan way too loud for it to be classified as quiet. You only nod in response to his question, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the feeling of him pulling almost entirely out before pushing his cock back in, so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach. 

He groans at how you’re sucking him in, landing a soft slap on your ass. “‘Course you do, that’s all you ever think about, right? Even when we’re in public, all you want is to get fucked dumb.”

You nod dumbly. You whimper loudly when he picks up the pace of his thrusts, your pussy tightening around his cock. It takes him less than three rolls of his hips to find that one spot that makes your toes curl, and when he does, he makes an effort to hit it repeatedly, so fast it makes your head spin. 

“Yeah? Feels good?” 

“Mhm,” you choke out. And as if you’re not shaking from pleasure already, he brings his fingers to rub circles into your clit, his arms practically holding you up. “Please don’t stop, Jaehyun, please—”

It confuses him a little — why you think he would even want to stop right now, with the way you’re clamping down on his cock, moaning his name in a way that has him struggling not to cum right then and there. His own hips stutter just as you start clenching and unclenching around him, your moan growing into broken whimper and incoherent mumbling of how good it feels and how you want him to go faster. 

And so he does, grabbing your hips harder so he can push you further onto his cock, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. His thrusts make the locker bang softly against the wall, but all you can focus on is the way his cock is pistoning in and out of your cunt, filling you up to the brim. 

“You gonna cum, baby?” he rasps into your ear as you start shaking from underneath him. “Gonna cum all over my cock?” 

You only nod frantically, mumbling something he can’t make out and then, with a last few rubs of his fingers against your clit, the knot in your lower stomach snaps. He cums not too much later, groaning against your cheek as he spills his cum inside of you. 

Jaehyun lets you come down from your high before he pulls out, smiling to himself at the whine you let out. He gets dressed and helps you put your shirt and panties on, chuckling as he sees your legs shaking when you walk over to him.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” you grumble at him, but it doesn’t really sound threatening when you’re wearing a giddy smile on your face. “It’s your fault, you know. You’re gonna have to carry me home now.”

“Sorry,” he replies, sounding the least sorry he’s ever been. “If it makes you feel any better, I just got hard again from looking at your legs.” 

You scoff at that, but let him interlace your fingers as you emerge from the locker room together. It almost surprises you how cold the air outside is compared to how hot it was inside — though you think that might’ve had something to do with other things than just the temperature. 

“So,” Jaehyun grins from ear to ear as he speaks up a few moments later. “When do I get to fuck you in the locker room again?” 

TAGLIST: @kflixnet @mrkis @ljnfav @shiningdery @qiankunslove @fluffyjaes @the-universe-in-you-jjh @honeym4rk2 @pckeia @baehaechannie @peachjamal @luv4jeno @lunarmindedchild @myjaewoo @kange3939 @bimb0beee

[ilovejeongintoo]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕄𝕖

!WARNING NSFW Content ahead! !MDNI!

Genre: Fantasy Werewolf San x Vampire Reader Warnings: sex p in v, biting/marking, mirror Wordcount: 4480 Not proofread at all

People think San is so cat coded, which I obviously agree to but... I think a big black puppy would suit him just as much. -> Puppy Eyes

Summary: If there was one thing you hated more than the boring lessons, it was the smell of dog. Especially one that seemed way too interested in your business.

The boredom of attending all these lessons without even knowing what you wanted to do afterward was hell. Being surrounded by people you didn’t connect with and studying subjects that should never have been part of the school system in the first place only made it worse.

Everything about this place was torture, but the worst was the smell of wet dog that constantly permeated the air. Those damn werewolves—a bunch of dogs. They didn’t just smell like one but also behaved as such, with loud shouts that resembled barks and hyper energy that no one could handle except themselves.

The only reason you were still attending the academy was because your parents threatened to take away your things if you didn’t go. Each year, you contemplated whether the time you spent here was really worth the mental torture of being a student, especially lately, when the whole situation became even worse in the form of a loud, nosy, and most annoying busybody.

He bothered you to no end. He just would not leave you alone. You hurled the usual insults you’d throw at any one of those dogs at him. You’d blatantly ignore him and move spots any time he approached, but he would just follow behind, babbling about his day to you—like you knew each other, or even worse, were friends.

This all started after you helped him pick up his books when he tripped and fell backward. His books were strewn across the dark marble floor, and you just happened to be passing by. You were in a hurry but still helped him, probably why you didn’t notice the scent of a werewolf that clung to him. If you had, you wouldn’t have helped.

You guessed you were suffering the consequences of your actions. Now he was trailing behind you, going on about his day, what he learned, and what he ate. If he had a tail, you were sure it would be wagging like the happy puppy he was.

The annoyed expression on your face was usually hidden behind a cold stare, but now you didn’t even bother. You wanted him to know how much you disliked his mere presence. You were sure onlookers could see the tick on your forehead; you were going to burst a blood vessel any day now. And to top it off, the last few exams were coming up. Making everything ten times worse and your shitty mood even more noticeable in the form of a constant glare.

Your shoes clicked along the floor until you reached the library and entered. This was the one place he hadn’t managed to find you yet. Not surprising, since there was no way he’d actually attempt to study. You sat down at a table more or less hidden by a few bookshelves. Half an hour into being completely immersed in Vampiric History, someone sat beside you. You thought nothing of it, not even sparing them a glance.

The person didn’t move, which caught your attention. It was almost like they were turned toward you, waiting. Your eyes caught sight of familiar brown ones immediately. An annoyed sigh escaped you, and your eyes returned to your textbook, intent on ignoring the constant presence of Choi San.

That didn’t last long because you could practically feel him staring holes into the side of your head. Aggressively closing your book, you looked at him again. “What?”

He had the same smile as always on his face, dimples forming. He wasn’t the least bothered by your reluctance to interact with him. His grin seemed to grow bigger by the second.

He just shrugged as if he didn’t understand what you were saying, his face resting on one of his hands, propped on the table, close.

“You know exactly what I mean: stop following me, stop talking to me, don’t even appear in the same room as me.” You listed off. He just nodded, not taking you seriously at all, it seemed.

You seriously had enough.

Enough of all of this.

Of him.

You grabbed him, pulled him up, and pushed him against the table, almost making him sit on it. Your hands slid to his shoulders, and you got closer. This was bound to get your point across.

He still had that infuriating grin plastered on his face, standing there amused.

“Will do.” What a fucking lie.

From this close, you could look at him closely, take him in, if you will. The chiseled jaw, the dark brown eyes, smooth skin, and pretty lips. Once you realized what you were doing, you locked your eyes back on his just before letting him go with a push.

You grabbed your book and bag and stormed out of the library, out to get some air, to get away from San.

There was no way you were starting to develop any feelings for the dog. Objectively speaking, he was handsome, attractive, whatever. But that was it. You must just be getting too used to him being around. Even the smell of him—your nose must be muted to the stench by now.

You didn’t even show up to the rest of your classes that day. The next day, however, you weren’t so lucky to avoid the menace. First lesson and you were met with his pretty face again.

“No, wait, truce, okay?” Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

“I know you told me not to follow. I mean, I did kinda follow you, but just— I wanted to… give you something back.”

His hands fished for something in his pockets, not finding it immediately. He pulled out a bracelet, a familiar one—yours.

You seized it from his grasp right away. Your eyes turned angrier, not believing he would steal something of yours.

He must have read your thoughts because he defended himself very quickly, arms up and all: “No, you left it yesterday in the library.” He continued before you could speak: “I just wanted to return it. I’ll stay away from you.” You could imagine his ears drooping at that.

Okay, you were wrong—just slightly—about San.

Guilt was already starting to form in your gut like you had actually kicked a puppy. That’s what he looked like, like you just told him he couldn’t have his favorite candy. You gnawed at your lip before sighing.

“No, it’s—thanks, I guess, for giving me back my bracelet. This one means a lot to me.” You dragged your eyes over said piece, then back to his form.

“Look, I just don't like werewolves. Not a single one of you. I’m not changing my mind because of this.”

He looked relieved even though you had just told him you didn’t like werewolves.

“Of course.”

You turned away, not willing to look and maybe rethink your decision of having a puppy follow you around all the time. Before you could get too far, you heard him yell.

“You might change your mind!”

You made sure not to look back and give strength to that statement.

The next few days went by quietly. You didn’t see San much, even in your shared classes. He must be doing some wolf thing. Sometimes, you missed it. You kind of realized what a loner you were. You didn’t even talk to any vampire students—not that you genuinely knew any as friends.

The next time you saw San, he only waved at you and walked off in a different direction. That left you frozen to the marble floor.

He just walked away.

No “Hello,” “How are you,” or anything of the sort. It had become such a routine to have San constantly around you that it felt extremely weird now like you lost something.

It was one thing for him not to come to school because of whatever—you could imagine all sorts of reasons. But seeing him walk off without much at all, right in front of you, left you speechless. Your eyes kept searching for him after that, trying to catch a glimpse of the puppy without much luck.

This is what you wanted, exactly what you told him to do. Despite that, you were coming to regret that decision rapidly.

Well, there was only one way to undo it: you had to bury your ugly pride and talk to him. But there was no way you could just do that—just go up to him and tell him you didn’t actually hate him that much? The thought made you shudder. And where would you even do this? Because there was no way you would willingly embarrass yourself in front of the whole student body.

There was only one place you could think of to have this talk: his dorm room. Admittedly, equally embarrassing, but without any eyes on the two of you. All you had to do was sneak into the wolf dormitory, find his room, wait, and then enter. Easy as pie.

You decided to go through with your scheme when he came back from his evening classes. At least you knew when those ended since he never stopped talking about them. (Something about how they make luminescent potions.)

Getting into the dorm was a struggle, involving climbing a window and almost ruining your pristine uniform. The wolf-printed doorstep carpet and the sign plastered with “Choi San” were hard to miss. The number 13 on the dark oak door made it one of the first rooms; you could even see the front desk down the dark hallway. You chose to hide around the next corner so as not to get caught if the resident assistant were to come by, and to avoid awkwardly standing in front of San's door. All of this was so weird—why were you even doing this? You were okay with being alone before, but now, not anymore.

You’d make San pay for giving you a taste of what friends were—after you became friends again, or whatever your relationship could have been considered before. It didn’t take long for the man of the hour to turn up. He was struggling with the key when you sneaked up. Right after he unlocked the troubling door, you pushed him in. Reaching back to snag the key and step in after him like you owned the damn place. 

His eyes were as wide as saucers. Okay, maybe you could have told him you wanted to talk with him privately. Whoops. “What the hell? What are you doing here? I already told you I won’t bother you anymore”

Oh god, you did not know how to start this. It looked like you broke into his room and were about to turn him into a winter coat by the look on his face.

You sighed. 

“I” and stopped. Fuck

“Alright this is going to sound extremely weird” His brows furrowed. “No I-mean not that kind of weird. I just, fuck this is difficult.” You turned around facing the door. You were not going to say this directly to his face. You took another deep breath to think and come up with an actual sentence this time.

“I might have been wrong about you, you’re not as much of a dog as I thought. And I don’t actually hate you,  and I know it sounds stupid coming from me now. But I…I liked the times that you were around, more than I realized.” 

Your eyes were shut tightly as if that would help you gather the strength to say all of this.

“I was hoping that we could start new and be friends?” You rushed to finish. Now you were waiting for him to say now, open that door and walk out.

It was quiet for a moment. Then you felt his hand pull you back until you had to move your legs to face him. Your head was hanging and your eyes were still shut at this point. 

“Hey, look at me.”

You lifted your head slowly and opened your eyes even slower too scared to find out what was going to happen next. Without the protective darkness, your closed lids brought you. Too scared to hear him reject you straight to your face, the irony really.

The only thing that you were met with was San, with a big smile. Just like you knew him. 

“You’re telling me that you don’t hate me, you honestly don’t? At all?” He looked at your eyes moving his head a little to search for any doubt in them.

“Because sure, I might have been a little pushy, maybe a lot. But I thought it wasn’t bad until you said you didn’t want me to hang around you anymore.”

He looked down at your intertwined hands, recalling the memory. 

“I should have stopped when you gave me the stink eye on the first day of talking to you.”

He looked back up, you noticed his flushed cheeks now just slightly pink. His eyes got bigger and his eyebrows raised a bit in an innocent expression. Hair falling slightly into his face. In that moment he undeniably seemed the most like a puppy, any anxiety from your nerves melted away.

Once the expression was one it disappeared just as fast. He leaned a tad a smug kind of smirk formed with those delicate lips.

His hands coming to rest 

“But now, now you’re telling me you essentially miss me?”

“No”

“You do”

“Say it and I’ll become your lapdog again okay? Easy as that” He had a dark look to him, challenging you but waiting expectantly. Like he knew he was right. 

He was.

“I miss it, I miss you San.” It came out more desperate than you wanted it to. You avoided his gaze out of embarrassment. but he kept turning his head to make you meet them again.

You pushed against his chest slightly in an effort to make him halt his movements.

“Alright Stop!”

His hands automatically found themselves on your elbows not letting go and even pulling you closer. When you noticed the little space left between the two of you, you seized your struggle and instead caught mid-breath. From this close, you could feel his breath and see the almost identical fangs to yours poke out.

“If you really want me to stop”

“Tell me you hate me, tell me how you want me to not even breathe the same air as you, just like before.” 

“And mean it” His grip tightened slightly. His eyes not once leaving yours, pupils blown out. There was no way you could do that anymore not with the discovery you had made, about yourself. You liked Choi San, a werewolf, more than you’d like to admit. Somewhere along all the annoying quips of his you grew attached.

You were grounding yourself a little with the grip on his shirt. “I can’t” Your voice came out more confident than it has been all day.

His lips were on yours so fast after. It was better than you could have ever imagined. There was this addicting smell coming off San now, it felt like you were being dragged into him. It made it feel like you weren’t close enough kissing like this. Your clothes were getting too hot, too suffocating. You took his cheeks into your hands and then up into his oreo-colored hair.

The kiss made the hidden feelings burst up like a broken dam. The push and pull between the two of you had strung up so much tension until this moment. To just release the frustration, sheer annoyance, and most surprisingly of all your denied feelings. You pulled him down further, closer. His grip was just as hard on your waist a possessive feeling to it.

The repulsive scent that used to choke you was now mixed with something else, making it so intoxicating, so San. You were pressing closer in hopes of smelling it more, it just seemed to increase the longer you kissed. The closer your bodies pressed against each other in an almost grind.

Your lips disconnected when San pulled back just enough that your foreheads were pressed against one another his warm breath hitting your swollen lips. 

“So you don’t hate me after all?” There was a smirk evident. A teasing lilt to his seductive voice.

“Shut up.” You pull him into you once again by his collar. Your hands roamed the expanse of his chest through his black button-up shirt. For a more deep and heated kiss. His response was his one hand slipping under your shirt, right below your chest.

You know this is reckless, maybe even foolish, probably the most impulsive thing that you’ve ever done. But in the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the consequences for even a second. Not with him molding so perfectly into you. Your lips detached and you began placing kisses down his pretty neck. You felt a low, almost inaudible growl come from him. It made a pleasant shiver run through your body.

“Careful” He warned, voice deeper and rougher than before, “or I might start thinking you actually like me.” His teasing only made the fire within you burn more, like he was constantly adding gasoline to it. Your fangs lightly grazed the sensitive spot right below his ear, a bolder moan that ended in a low groan escaping him. His nails dig into you a little harder. But it’s not enough. You want him to lose it, to step over that boundary that you still had left, that you could still recover from, and pretend to hate each other again.

There was no way you would let him though. So with more want you dove in interlock your lips once more. Your tongues dragged along in such a sensual motion, it felt so rough and you loved it. His hand that had been buried under your shirt slipped down grazing your waistband. The sensation made another wave of heat course through you, leaving you wetter.

“Tell me to stop,” He murmurs, licking his lips in pause though his actions say the opposite. “Tell me you don’t want this and I will.”

To absolute hell with that. You roughly push him against his couch in answer.

And that's all the encouragement he needs, all hesitation out the window.

He pulls you down into his lap so fast. His hands making quick work of your pants and panties not bothering to unbutton your shirt, he plainly rips it open. A quiet gasp rips through you at the display of strength. He seemed less like a puppy and more like the wolf that you read in books about. Though his hands slow down when they feel the naked skin and his eyes drag along your figure. Like he wants to savor this moment.

Your hands kept tugging at his shirt in question for him to take it off, but he easily complied. Exposing hard taut muscles, smooth skin, and a thin layer of sweat to the desire-filled air around you. You're on him again, planning to get a taste of his skin everywhere. Following his collarbones and down his chest.

Noises leave him every second of the way and his hands move to return the favor. Your body stiffened, the slightest feeling of uncertainty flickering through you in the realization of what you were doing. You’re fighting between the instinct of pushing him away and getting out of here and the unmistakable desire of pulling him closer.

He picked up on it just as fast. A soft and slow hand reaching up towards your face making you meet his eyes. The teasing expression off of his face and replaced with a softer one.

“Hey,” he says low, his tone steady. “We don’t have to do any of this if you’re not sure. I wouldn’t want to if you weren’t.”

But you are sure— in fact you have never been more sure of anything. And maybe that’s what made you hesitate, the realization that this wasn’t going to be just a fleeting lust-filled spur of-the-moment-. It’s something so much deeper, the exact thing you’ve been trying to push to the back of your mind. You’re not sure you can keep denying it so desperately, not with the way he was holding on to you, with the way his eyes focused solely on you.

You shook your head “I want this, I’m sure.” your hand strokes his cheek “I’ve been wanting this for a while.”

This time when the two of you meet it’s more insistent more sure. Clearly over that invisible wall that was holding you back before. His hands cover every inch of your body, pulling your shirt over your head to feel and see your bare.

The next moments were a blur, clothes being thrown off his lips caressing your skin. It’s intoxicating how he moves his hands so smoothly over your skin, how hot just everything is. He’s studying you, memorizing your reactions to hopefully recreate them. Once you're prepped on your hands and knees you register his touches more as they are less rushed and more calculated.

You can feel the warm and big presence of San at your back and you wish you would have looked at what he was hiding under those pants to at least gauge how much you’d be able to take. You weren’t a virgin but you had never been with a werewolf. 

“It’s okay, I’ll make it fit don’t worry” He soothed, and you felt him pour some wet liquid on the curve of your ass and down to your core. You probably didn’t even need all that lube with how wet you felt. You barely responded to San with a whine.

His first finger slipped past your entrance satisfying that burn inside a little. But just after a while when his finger moved back and forth more easily, it burned up more. He entered another finger and shortly after another, they were long but not uncomfortable long and so thick, you felt sufficiently stretched after barely a few minutes.

You could hear San's heavy breathing—he was clearly affected by what he was witnessing. The air was thick with the scent of sex, dirty and potent, mingling with the pervasive smell of sweat. You felt San hover closer to you, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck. He nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake.

He mouthed at your neck more insistently, as if he wanted to bite down but hesitated. Fear held him back—fear of his own wolfish instincts in such a vulnerable moment. He wasn’t ready to face the possibility of you rejecting his mark. If you did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Not when the only mate he wanted was you—a vampire.

“San,” you murmured, reaching behind yourself to thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. You could sense the inner conflict consuming him.

“Don’t stop. I swear to God, if you stop, I will—”

That was all the permission he needed. His final restraint snapped like a thin thread. His fingers withdrew with a wet sound, and you felt him line up his length with your wet cunt before pushing in with one smooth motion. The sensation knocked the wind out of your lungs for a moment. He wasn’t small—not uncomfortably so, but enough to stretch you slightly, making you wiggle to adjust. His hands found your elbows, pulling you back and arching your spine, driving him deeper inside you. As he began thrusting, you couldn’t contain the unholy noises escaping your lips.

He wasn’t holding back at all.

“Oh my God, oh fuck, shit,” you gasped, barely able to keep it together. He felt so right inside you, and the sounds filling the room were nothing short of sinful.

“You’re fucking made for me, wrapping around me so perfectly,” he groaned, pumping harder, going deeper with each thrust. Suddenly, he released your arms, making you fall forward onto your elbows, your head buried in the sofa. One of his hands pressed down on the middle of your back while the other pulled you back onto his length by your ass. It felt like he was reaching up into your stomach.

You turned your head to the side for better air, and your gaze fell upon a mirror reflecting everything happening. The sight of yourself beneath San was as arousing as the act itself. Your hair was a mess, cheeks flushed as if with fever, and both your bodies shone with sweat. You gulped as you watched a drop of sweat slide down his face, hanging briefly at the peak of his chin before falling away. His eyes were locked onto your ass as he ran a hand through his hair for a better view.

San noticed your gaze fixed on the mirror and grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep watching. “See how pretty you are? Now I get to enjoy all of it—just me.” He made sure you wouldn’t look away, his eyes now locked onto yours. He kissed up your neck sensually, never ceasing his thrusts.

One of his hands moved down your stomach, pressing slightly above your pelvis, as if he could feel himself inside you. Your moans grew louder by the second, and San’s brows furrowed in pleasure. His hand moved further down, connecting with your clit and rubbing in slow circles. The stimulation was just enough to tip you over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs reflexively clamping around his fingers.

That’s when San took the opportunity to bite down on your neck, his canine teeth sinking into your nape. You shook with overstimulation, the world around you completely blocked out. The roughness of the sofa and the stickiness of your bodies faded into the background. It felt like an electric current was rushing through you. San trembled for a moment, pressing deeply into you one last time before he came, gripping your ass with small thrusts to ride out his high.

It felt like only seconds had passed when San began soothing the small mark with gentle licks. He massaged your hips, anticipating the soreness you’d feel later. When his licks turned into soft pecks, you reached back again, searching for him. Your hand found his hair, smoothing over the damp strands.

“You okay, little doggie?” you asked, pushing the top of his head against your cheek, treating him like your pup. You liked how close the two of you still were, slipping back into teasing now that the intensity had faded.

Your question made him chuckle, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “I just fucked you into another universe, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

He rubbed against you slightly.

“Next time, I’ll really make you rethink keeping me because—” he shifted to whisper directly into your ear—“I’ll fuck you on my knot, pretty girl.”

[lenaboskow]

i'm bored at work so here's an updated list of everything tommy kinard has ever said or done that makes him a bad person who hasn't changed/learned from his mistakes (even if he's not being inherently/explicitly racist anymore) (before you come at me for saying people can change, here's my previous pinned post from 7x05 that explains how he hasn't. i go into it more here about the back half of the season, but all of these points still stand)

season two

chimney begins

the first thing tommy says to/about chimney is "did you forget to tip the delivery driver?". if it wasn't for the fact that they had asian food delivered and chimney is asian, this could've been passed off, but instead they chose to have the first act of racism/general harassment be done by tommy, not the racist captain.

then when they return from a call and see chimney dutifully cleaning, tommy says to chimney: "you're still here?". not inherently racist, but still rude

we get some montages of chimney being left out/harrasef, and tommy is always at the forefront. it culminates in the locker room scene where tommy says "i don't think about you enough to hate you", which again isn't inherently racist but it is rude.

at the end, the only way chimney manages to earn a semblance of respect from tommy is by saving his life, which is fucked up. you shouldn't have to save someone's life to he treated with dignity. but fine, maybe tommy learned his lesson, right?

wrong

hen begins

at the beginning, tommy, chimney, gerrard, and a few others are standing up in the loft while hen walks in. gerrard says a few racist/sexist words, and chim stands up for her. tommy just stands there, not even looking like he might want to say something. not saying something when it happens is almost as bad as doing, and obviously chimney, who'd been there a shorter time, was brave enough to stand up for her.

then tommy, during a meal, tommy says about hen: "new york bitchiness is a compliment?". there's no non sexist explanation for this comment

actually that entire meal, he ignores chimney's attempts move the conversation away, which says a lot

again, general enabling of the racism and sexism

during hen's "see me" speech, tommy looks pissed off to be there, and then proceeds to look annoyed when he apologizes to her at the end of the episode (if you can even call it that)

post begins episodes

now, we don't know a whole lot about how hen and chimney interacted with tommy after the events of their begins episodes, but we do know they weren't close enough to keep in touch after. chimney loses touch for two years immediately after he leaves, and by season seven hen forgot that tommy worked at harbor. i don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like behavior for people who worked closely for ten years.

season seven

7x04

this episode was from buck's pov, so it's actually the time where tommy is the most tolerable. that doesn't mean he doesn't have his moments, though:

calling buck "kid" and "evan" is a weird way to introduce a love interest. tommy calling him "kid" shows that tommy is aware of the age difference, which as i explain here is at least the same as buck and abby's (and here why that screenshot of tim saying he's 40 is irrelevant). also, tommy calls buck "evan" with no on screen explanation, and we know that lou was explicitly told tommy isn't "allowed" to call him buck. you know the only other characters who aren't allowed to call him buck? his parents. that's all I'll say.

we don't really see much of tommy again until the basketball scene, and then it's focused on buck and eddie anyways, so the next time we see him and buck really interact is the loft scene (which is telling about who buck was trying to get the attention of, but that's a different conversation). in this scene, tommy makes a condescending remark about how "we weren't trying to make you feel left out" and "eddie can have more than one friend", which... again, brings us back to the age difference because it sounds like (in context) that tommy is reprimanding a child. having them kiss right after that was definitely an interesting choice (in terms of their relationship)

7x05

oh the date. i have so many feelings about this. we know that tommy knows buck isn't out, because buck told maddie they purposely picked an out of the way spot, and despite the face tommy made at the comment, he didn't seem surprised when buck told him it was his "first date with a dude" (it seemed more like a "i already know this, you don't have to repeat it" face). because of this, the way tommy acted when eddie showed up and freaked buck out has no excuse. the closet comment? even if tommy didn't know buck wasn't out and decided he didn't want to date someone who wasn't out, he shouldn't have made that comment knowing it could out buck to his best friend, who he clearly wasn't ready to tell. lucky for buck, eddie's an idiot (affectionate) with a one track mind (buck) and didn't register the comment.

then we have tommy leaving buck at the curb. leaving the date isn't the problem, it's the fact that he didn't tell buck until he got in the uber, which obviously upset buck (though he was admittedly more upset over lying to eddie). the rest of the episode is spent on buck coming out to eddie, and we don't see tommy again until buck is apologizing for the date, which... why should buck have to apologize for not being ready to come out? buck did nothing wrong on the date. if you just figured out you were queer and hadn't had the chance to tell your best friend before they accidentally crashed your date, you'd react the same way, don't try to tell me otherwise. it was tommy who should've apologized, plain and simple.

7x06

the bachelor party. tommy's excuse for not dressing up made no sense to me... he was obviously going to have to change anyways, so why not put in a little effort for your date? i see people saying that only eddie put effort in, but henren was dressed too, just more subtly. tommy chose not to dress up, and made a half hearted excuse of "they had henleys in the 80s" (which you would know, wouldn't you, 70s baby?)

then we have tommy leaving, which fair he's on call, and we don't see him again until the hospital kiss. this is the only time we see tommy look remotely interested in buck the entire episode (every other time he has an rbf face, even when they're hugging).

7x09

we only see tommy during the medal ceremony, and he still manages to say something to piss me off. "enjoy it while it lasts" because he can't indulge his boyfriend for two seconds. it's becoming a pattern, i'm afraid

7x10

the date scene was a weird way to end their s7 relationship. buck was opening up about his trauma, tried to find middle ground by saying "so we both have daddy issues" (nothing in the context made it seem sexual, in fact i didn't realize until tommy made the joke, so it's possible buck didn't either) and then tommy says "i don't" despite admitting that he did only a few seconds before. buck says with a slightly resigned (barely there, but still there) tone, "but you think i do" and tommy responds with "god i hope so". any other context and it would've been fine, but buck had just been talking ahout how his father figure literally died and came back to life. there's a post somewhere (pretty sure it was an ask someone sent me actually, if i can find it i'll link)that talks about how buck has a habit of going along with his love interests to avoid causing waves, and how that's exactly what buck was doing in 7x10, and it makes perfect sense. if buck had a problem with it, he wouldn't immediately say. he'd sit on it for weeks before even considering bringing it up (like natalia and death, and how he avoided taylor in s5). even if he wasn't uncomfortable, it doesn't take away from the fact that the timing was weird and buck wasn't in a good headspace to respond properly.

in conclusion

tommy is repeatedly a bad person. just because he hasn't said anything racist or sexist since season two, it doesn't negate this. you'll notice that almost all of his scenes are here, if not all. the writers have chosen to have him repeatedly look bad and like someone who only cares about himself (with the way he constantly tries to defend his actions by blaming gerrard, and how he only cares about his feelings about being out), but the bt stans are too excited at the prospect of two white men kissing (or just two men and they don't care who, thus dumping eddie, it depends on the bt) that they choose to look past it and hate on ryan/eddie instead.

these last three months in the fandom have felt so different compared to the rest. the fandom i knew pre s7 would never act this way. is it because lou is a nepo baby? i know it's not because of his looks. but either way, i'm disappointed, and hope s8 treats us (fans who actually care about the characters and don't actively want less for them) better

(if i missed anything, let me know and i'll edit the post to add it)

[nerdofspades]

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

-

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

-

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

[wardenparker]

Mother Knows Best

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, meddling mama, cursing, reader is an unapologetic nerd, flirting with books, BDSM mention (but no portrayal), vagina sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise and a little dirty talk. Summary: Marcus Pike's mother has a tendency to overstep a little. While she means well, any time she has ever tried to set him up it has always turned out terribly. This time, though, she's pretty sure she has it right when she arranges for Marcus to go on a blind date with the youngest member of her book club. Notes: This all kind of sprang out of a TikTok I found about a bookshop date idea. And I'm not sorry about it in the least. Also, subtle shout out to my brother-in-law's band is buried in conversation 🎶

"Marcus sweetie, what are you doing on Saturday?" Donna Pike is pulling weeds in her garden with her younger son in a lounge chair nearby, and she tries to make the question as nonchalant as possible. It's Sunday now and she might as well be asking what he wants for dinner. Although her idea of what he might be doing for dinner on the night in question is almost definitely different than whatever Marcus might have in mind. He has been back in Washington D.C. for almost four months and has spent the whole time sulking – something that no mother likes to see.

Marcus is probably more relaxed than he's been in a few months. Finally deciding that he is better off without Teresa since she would rather be with someone else more than him. His eyes half closed as he holds his beer, he answers without even thinking about it. Or why giving his mother an empty day without plans wasn't a good idea. "Nothing." He hums, smiling slightly at the thought of not having any work or responsibilities.

"Oh?" Donna smirks, glancing over her shoulder to see Marcus has his eyes shut as he sits in the sun. "No dinner plans? Drinks with coworkers?" She asks carefully, keeping her tone breezy as she weeds the tomato bed.

"Not a damn thing." He admits again, not seeing the smirk on his mother's face, otherwise alarm bells would be sounding in his head. Instead, he's plotting what he will do with his day off. Hopefully sleeping until ten is the first thing on the list. Then he might take a book out to the Mall lawn and read in the sun. Pick up one of those touristy drinks to sip on as he does.

"So..." Training one eye on him as she pulls another weed up from the root, Donna's lip curls into a smile. "You would be free for dinner, then?"

"You want me to take you to dinner?" Marcus's father passed nearly eight years ago and when he could, he would take his mother out to a nice dinner. Making sure that she felt special. "Sure."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie." Donna is all-out grinning at this point, and maybe even a little evilly. "Do you remember my telling you about a new girl joining our book club? She works with Marjorie Klein at the Library of Congress?" Every time Marjorie talked about her new colleague it seemed like the younger woman would be a perfect fit for their group, so six months ago they had offered up the empty spot at their table. Now, every time Donna Pike sees or hears from you, she seems to become more and more convinced that you would be perfect for her youngest child.

"Mom...no." Marcus shakes his head and immediately drowns the rest of his beer bottle and desperately wishes another would appear. "No, no, you aren't setting me up, again."

"But Marcus she's such a good match!" She won't say 'perfect' because that will make Marcus revolt and probably run away screaming. But she has such a good feeling about this one. "And I might have already scheduled the date with her..." Might is such an innocent lie. She definitely already scheduled the blind date with you after giving you a few background details on her baby boy.

“Mooooooooooom.” The sigh Marcus gives is one of extreme frustration. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but no. I can get my own dates.” The truth was, his mother had horrible taste in choosing women that she thought Marcus would be interested in.

"Oh yeah?" Donna tucks her proverbial tongue securely in her cheek. "Is that why you've been hanging around your old Ma's house so much the last few months? Because you're so good at getting your own dates?" She tilts her head at him and waves one hand, dismissing the tease immediately. "She's sweet, Marcus. And so smart. You don't have to marry the girl, but it's hard to get back out there sometimes. Just...give it a try?"

“It’s— I just got out of that thing with Teresa, Ma.” He reminds her and notices the expectant look on his mother’s face. She’s well meaning, really she is, but god does she meddle. “You already told her I would go out with her, didn’t you?”

“The thing with Teresa was months ago.” Donna’s grin spreads like wildfire. “She’s a nice girl and I called in a favor to get you a table at Founding Farmer’s because I know you like to keep the first date kind of casual.” Something she considers a mistake, but she knew that if she had gone and made a reservation somewhere more upscale then Marcus would squawk.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus groans, slapping his hand over his face and imagining how boring and completely incompatible this woman is for his mother to talk about how nice and sweet she is. All the other girls she has tried to hook Marcus up with since he was a teenager have been a train wreck. “What time?” He sighs, resigned to his Saturday being ruined.

“Seven-thirty.” Crows his mother, who definitely made sure that the reservation was early enough in the night that they could do something else afterward. “I really think you’re going to like her, sweetie.”

He thinks he’ll be wasting an hour of his life but he grunts in response, already dreading Saturday.

******

You’re probably taking this far too seriously, all things considered. The book club of mostly middle-aged and older ladies that you had been offered a place in by one of your coworkers has been really nice. Everybody sits around and drinks and gossips about the book characters like they’re real people, and there is always good food. You like the ladies in the book club, you really do. But this whole idea of a blind date with Donna Pike’s son has you nervous for some reason.

Blind dates don’t typically go well for you but you’re honestly kind of desperate. It’s been nearly a year since your last date that even qualifies as mediocre and at this point you would say yes to just about anyone halfway decent. And with that in mind, you kiss your cat goodbye and smooth one hand down your floral sundress before slinging on your leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill. If nothing else, maybe you’ll have a nice meal tonight.

Marcus sighs as he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time. He had opted to leave the suit at home, but couldn’t dress down completely casual. The restaurant that his mom had chosen would be nice enough that slacks, a polo and a sports coat wouldn’t look too out of place. Despite his reservations, he is wanting to make an effort. He sniffs his cologne to make sure he didn’t douse himself and picks up his keys. Off to see what a nightmare this would be, although he hopes that this girl won’t throw a glass of wine in his face when he reveals he’s a federal agent.

Founding Farmer’s is bustling when you arrive, packed to the gills and you wonder if the younger Pike brother thought to make reservations. For now you adjust the (admittedly cheesy) flower in your jacket lapel and slide over to the bar to order a cocktail. If he stands you up, you at least want to have a drink in hand to soothe the embarrassment.

There had been a fierce internal debate on if he should stop outside the little flower stand that was just a block down from the restaurant to buy some flowers. Romantic Marcus would do it, and even though he had not asked this girl out, she deserves the niceties that had been bred into him after watching his father continuously court his mother through their marriage. When he enters the door of the Founding Farmer's, he can see why he had to park two blocks away and is grateful that his mother had made reservations. "I— I have a reservation. Marcus Pike." He tells the frazzled hostess. "But I'm waiting for someone...." He cranes his neck to look around, not sure exactly who he is looking for. His mother had been very vague with the physical description, which doesn't help on a blind date.

You hear him before you see him — sitting just a few feet behind the hostess stand is strategic, and you hear him give his name. The most careful sneak of a peak nearly has your jaw on the ground and you sit straight up again immediately. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead movie star level gorgeous. And he’s carrying flowers identical to the one tucked into your jacket, making you smile unexpectedly. “Marcus?” You turn slowly on your stool, hoping you’re not about to make an idiot of yourself.

He hears his name and looks around again, his eyes searching until they fall on a lovely looking woman wearing a pretty sundress and jacket. A flower in her lapel in a move that immediately makes him grin at the old-style charm of the gesture. He nods and says the name his mother gave him, finding himself hoping that you are that person.

“That’s me.” Sliding off of your stool with your glass in hand, you put out your other hand to him and smile. His mother absolutely failed to mention that her son is an absolute dreamboat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve heard a hundred stories about you and your brother already.”

You're pretty. Maybe it's shallow, or vain even, but Marcus had been worried when his mother had focused so hard on how nice and sweet you are. He's not the type of man who insults someone because of their looks, but physical attraction is a basic for any romantic relationship and some of the women who would be just ‘perfect’ for him in his mother's eyes didn't fit in any of the categories. Not even intellectually. He shakes your hand firmly and smiles. "It's all lies, I swear." He jokes, offering you the flowers. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage because I know your name and that you are sweet."

"The ladies in the book club sort of adopted me." The flowers are beautiful, and fresh, and you inhale the scent happily as the hostess leads you to a small, secluded table in the corner. "And I..." You laugh self-consciously, shrugging a little. "I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. It was all Donna's idea. So if we don't get along or something, it's no hard feelings."

"I have to apologize." Marcus shakes his head, enjoying the sounds of your light, nervous laugh. "My mother likes to meddle, so if you weren't actually interested, I will understand." He moves to pull out your chair for you when the hostess indicates the table and looks at you expectantly. It's your choice if you wish to sit down or not.

Maybe it's shallow – to take one look at him and know for sure that you're at least going to ride out this dinner to see what he's like. But then, isn't that what blind dates are, at least a little? Judging a book by its cover and then taking a peek to see what's inside? "I think it would be a shame to miss out on making a new friend, even if that's all this amounts to," you tell him as you sit down.

He can agree with that, admire it even. Smiling again and he wonders if that's all this will amount to. "What are you drinking?" He asks, nodding towards your glass that you had brought from the bar.

"It's called a Farmer's Daughter," you tell him, holding up the half-drunk glass of delicious fruity-boozy goodness. "Vodka, lime, passion fruit, raspberry...something else that I didn't know what it was so I can't remember what it's called. Domaine de something?" Shrugging shelf-consciously, you offer him the glass to try a sip. "It's fantastic."

It's charming the way you offer him a drink. He takes it and tries a small sip. "That's good." He agrees. "I was going to suggest a bottle of wine, but perhaps another of these?" He asks you.

The hostess nods and disappears after leaving your menus, and you sit back in your seat a little bit more comfortably than before. "This place has their own spirits. It seemed too good to pass up, and turns out that was the right choice." A small smile plays on your lips and you really don't know where it's coming from but you feel strangely confident tonight. "So you're usually a wine guy?"

“I am.” He nods, knowing that he would happily split a bottle with good conversation and laughs. “Are you more of a cocktail girl?”

"Usually." Again, you shrug, but offer him a smile. "But only because I know nothing about wine. I'd like to learn, if I found that I knew somebody who wouldn't mind teaching me."

“Well, if you like, we can have one more of those delicious cocktails and I’ll order a bottle of my favorite wine for you to try?” He offers. “Or perhaps just a glass to share, and if you don’t like it, we can explore what you do like?”

"That sounds like fun, actually." Normally when a guy offered to 'teach' you something it was just him insisting that he knew all the best of something or had every fact memorized. Marcus isn't like that and you relax just a little bit more with this discovery. A little bit of sharing and get to know you is perfect for a first date.

“Yeah?” He grins and nods, admiring your sense of adventure and that smile that you are giving him. “Okay, so the wine I like is kinda of dry, a red. That sound okay?”

"Sure." You agree brightly, basically up for trying whatever he suggests. "Like I said, I know nothing about wine. You could be ordering the stuff that comes in a box and I would just trust you that it's good."

He laughs, enjoying your honestly. “No boxed stuff, I promise.” He tells you and thanks the waiter when he comes back with your cocktail. “I’m sorry, but could we also have a glass of the Marqués de Riscal Rioja Reserva 2012?” He asks with a small shrug. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, and now I do.”

Oblivious to the fact that that could have been an entendre, the waiter just nods and walks away, leaving the two of you alone at your cozy table again. "So..." you can't help the way your cheeks have gotten a little warmer in the last few seconds. "Is there anything you would like to know about me up front? You said your mother didn't tell you much."

“She did tell me that you work at the Library of Congress.” Marcus nudges the new drink towards you and takes the half finished one. He’s already drank after you, so it’s nothing to him. “So what do you do there?”

"I am a preservationist in the Children's Literature Center." Your work is delicate, and it is important, but some people find it unbelievable that your entire career is dedicated specifically to kids' books. "I'm part of the team that is digitizing rare children's books so that their contents will never be lost."

“Wow.” He’s impressed, knowing that is important work. Literature sound be preserved for the future generations to enjoy, much like art. “That’s— that’s gotta be pretty interesting day in and day out.”

“It’s no game of cops and robbers.” His mother had bragged about his promotions more than once, and you can’t help but smirk slightly when his ears turn red. “But I keep busy.”

“So you know that I’m a federal agent?” He asks, not sure what all his mother had rambled on about. Knowing her, she had told you about every girlfriend he had.

“Yes. Donna is extremely proud of you, so we all heard all about the last promotion.” Taking a sip of your drink, you feel just a touch of warmth is your cheeks that is all attraction and not from the cocktail at all. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He bites his lip, caught between being embarrassed his mom was talking him up and enjoying the congratulations. The joy of his success has been sucked away by the Teresa thing, but he’s been trying to get back on track. “She’s just happy I’m close.”

“She’s very glad you’re home.” You can absolutely attest to that. It’s sweet, actually. They clearly get along well. “It sounds like if she could get your older brother to move back, she’d be in heaven having you both here.”

“Don’t think he’ll be moving to D.C. anytime soon.” Marcus admits. “But she’s happy to get out of the cold to go visit him during Christmas.”

“Louisiana always sounded like fun to be. Like a completely different world from anywhere else.” Probably that thought comes from having grown up in the thick of the Canadian border, but still. It seemed romantic to think about. “She said he’s in New Orleans?”

“Yeah.” He nods and grins. “He keeps telling me to come down for Mardi Gras.”

“Sounds like fun.” He has just one perfect dimple and you swear this is the first time you’ve understood why anyone would swoon. “Are you liking being back in DC, at least?”

“What’s not to love?” He asks, looking up again when the waiter returns with the glass of wine. “The museum, the Mall, the historic sites. I love walking through the Smithsonian.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” you agree without hesitation. “This city is pretty much perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

He hums as he hands you the glass. “Try a sip of this, it’s dry but floral. I love this with a good cheese board.”

“A charcuterie guy, too? Nothing I love more than Adult Lunchables.” The grin on your face grows as you take the glass, giving it a sniff like you have any idea whatsoever what to look for, and take an adventurous sip. “Ooh that’s…I don’t know what I was expecting but that’s great. It’s like…it’s rich but it’s not heavy, if that makes sense?”

He nods and grins at you. “Now, imagine it with a funky cheese and a tart grape. Or a salty cracker.” He tells you, proud that you enjoy it. “Maybe a glass with dinner?”

“Absolutely.” It’s like a wake up for your senses, and even though you enjoy the sweet cocktail that you had ordered initially, the wine sounds like a decadent and very mature option for dinner. “Do you have any idea what you’ll order for food yet?”

“I figured I was going to order the braised short ribs with wilted summer greens and braised carrots.” He tells you, having looked at the menu before he ever arrived.

“Sounds pretty perfect.” When the waiter comes back you fill out your order, getting a basket of the kettle corn that the waiter gushes over to start with and ordering your dinners with another glass of wine so you can both indulge a little as you get to know each other.

“So, were you as nervous about tonight as I was?” The wine is being passed back and forth between you as your cocktail has been abandoned. He takes a sip and raises a brow at you in challenge.

"Terrified," you admit with a small laugh, but there is no point in trying to act smooth or more charming than you are. You're a slightly awkward person in general, and sometimes that can be charming all on its own. Or so you've been told. "I'm not...great at dating. Then the book club ladies took it upon themselves to figure out whose son was closest to my age and, well...here we are."

He laughs at the image you paint, all the ladies tossing out their eligible sons’ birthdays like trading cards. “Well, hopefully, you are enjoying yourself.” He offers with a grin, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in. The liquor and wine are loosening him up slightly, but it’s more that he’s enjoying conversing with you. Something he’s really missed about dating or being in a relationship with someone.

"I really am." His laugh is deep and rings in his chest, making his smile a little broader every time and making you wish that you had thought of something compelling or deeply interesting to tell him about yourself before setting foot in this restaurant tonight. But you had feared the worst, and expected the mediocre, so maybe that was the entire reason you found yourself enjoying this night? Simply by being handsome, intelligent, charming, and interesting, he was already blowing every single expectation you had out of the water. "Hopefully you are, too?"

“I am.” He gives you a small, self-conscious shrug. “My mother doesn’t have the best record when it comes to setting me up.” He admits. “The last one was a part of some antigovernment group and threw a glass of wine in my face when she found out I was, quote, a ‘fed pig’.” He tells you with the air quotes.

“That…” It takes a beat of extreme self-control not to laugh at how ridiculous that is, but you manage to keep yourself together. “Please say she didn’t know that this girl was anti-government when she set you up?”

“She had met her in her favorite bookstore.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t have a clue but she had to find another bookstore because it was the girl behind the counter.”

“But she tries to find you girls that read, huh?” That encourages you a bit. That Donna considers her son that intelligent. After all, he can’t be a slouch – not in art crimes. He has to at least have a little history and culture under his belt.

“I don’t want to always talk work, or politics.” He admits. “She had raised me to love reading and I’m forever grateful for that.”

“What do you like to read?” The question is automatic for you – something that you always ask new acquaintances and especially dates. It’s an important part of getting to know someone. “Personal curiosity as well as professional. I promise.”

“I can read anything.” Marcus tells you. “But, I spend so much time reading reports that I really enjoy fiction. Thrillers, intrigue. Even the odd romance novel.” He blushes when he admits that but he’s not going to lie.

“A good romance novel is entirely underrated. They’re great character studies. Plus?” You grin and pick up a piece of popcorn. There are only a few left in the basket and you’re enjoying the salty-sweetness with his dry wine. “Anyone who claims they don’t enjoy love stories is either lying or a bummer.”

“It’s like not liking classic movies.” He agrees with a grin. “I feel like some of the emotion has been lost. You give me Casablanca any day and I’ll show you a movie that is about loss as much as it is love.”

“I dumped a guy once for not liking classic movies,” you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. “He said that black and white was dumb because life is in color so ‘why weren’t all movies?’ And that all the stories were too trope-y. Can you believe that? Where did he think the tropes came from in the first place?”

“They are the model for the tropes.” He chuckles. “We had a class when I was in high school where you read classic literature and watched classic movies. I think it should be standard around the country. It helped shape my love of black and white movies.”

“I used to watch them with my mom whenever I was home sick.” Those memories are still so vivid for you, and precious. It had felt like a personal insult and not just a preference when the previous guy had talked down about classic cinema. “She got to see Katharine Hepburn in Coco in New York City when she was little and just worshipped her ever since. So, of course, I did too. And we would just watch everything we could get our hands on.”

“Oh wow.” Marcus is impressed and he shows it. “It would have been something, I’m sure.” He agrees. “I’m not all classical though. I like a good mix of modern as well. My old band used to play in Texas and I would go see them.”

“That’s right.” Donna had told you all about his band, of course, but it had slipped your mind while you got distracted over how attractive Marcus is. “Bass player, right?”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a small laugh, wondering if his mother had complained that he hadn’t wanted to cut his hair when he was playing, or if she was bragging. “And some vocals. Mainly backup.”

“Don’t downplay it.” You grin, watching his cheeks turn pink yet again. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And getting on stage? I think I’d panic. That’s something you can be really proud of.”

“It’s not that bad.” Marcus tells you. “Just pick the prettiest girl and imagine them – uh –” he falters for a second. “Kissing you.” He supplies.

“Is that how you get past stage fright?” You have definitely never heard of that particular tactic before and you nearly giggle with how embarrassed Marcus looks admitting it. “Seems like we ought to get you back on stage then, shouldn’t we? That’s a very nice fantasy to let yourself play out.”

“Nahhh it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage.” He admits. “I like to just drink a beer and dance with the pretty girl.”

“Oh yeah?” The impulse to insinuate yourself into that situation is deep but you just smile, knowing very well that your cheeks and ears are burning with the thought. “Sounds…pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?” He grins and there’s a partial idea forming for later tonight if the rest of dinner goes like it is now. “Does it sound good to you?” He asks. “What’s your ideal date?”

“I—” Clearing your throat slightly, your skin burns even more. “Dinner and dancing, probably? Or going to see a screening of an old movie together.” Taking a sip of the wine before you hand it back to him, you brace yourself for the tingle you’ve been getting whenever your fingers brush. “I saw a TikTok the other day of a bookstore date, too. That looked fun.”

“A bookstore date?” He’s intrigued on that what that would entail. He leans in and snags the wine glass to take another sip. He should really order another glass so you each have your own, but there is something oddly fun about sharing. “Tell me about that.”

“It’s silly.” But somehow, you think he might like silly. “There’s this list of prompts. And you roll a die to see which prompt you get and you’re supposed to go all over the bookstore looking for a book to read that fits the prompts. It’s…to a librarian it sounds fantastic…choosing books for each other and having an automatic something to talk about on the next date, ya know?”

“That sounds like a great date.” Marcus agrees, liking the adventurousness of it. “A really good date. Maybe even you have to call the other person to read them a portion of the book that appeals to you.”

“I haven’t had anybody read to me in ages…” You can feel how soft you get in response to the idea but you just can’t seem to care. Every few minutes Marcus Pike seems to get more and more perfect. “That sounds absolutely dreamy.”

“You haven’t?” He’s surprised at that, and then there’s a little fantasy that plays out in his head. Calling you every night that he could and reading a few paragraphs to you while you are snuggled in your bed. “Maybe that will change.” He hums.

"I think I'd like that." The way he says it makes you feel so hopeful, like maybe this night is going as well for him as it is for you, and you bite your lip to hold back a full-force grin. "I think I'd like that a whole lot."

Marcus actually hates when the waiter comes back to order the meals, allowing you to order first and he puts in his order for his own meal and asks for another glass of wine. “Do you want one, or do you want to keep sharing?”

"I'm not going to lie, I kind of like the sharing," you admit with an embarrassed grin. This waiter just smiles politely and steps away, having seen plenty of good and bad dates over his career and not really thinking anything of the request.

“I like it too.” He admits with a matching grin. “Although if we order dessert, we’ll need to change to different wine.” He tells you.

"Ah, so my education continues?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't thinking about it in the back of his mind, and that makes your smile grow. "I know I've seen Dessert wines listed on menus before but other than knowing they exist, I don't think I could name anything else about them."

“They are sweeter, crisper.” He tells you. “Meant to enhance the flavor of the desserts. We will have to see if we have room.” He grins. “My sides are meant to be shared.”

“Maybe we’ll have to come back?” You venture, hopeful at the idea that tonight is going well enough to lead to a second date.

“It is a very good wine list.” He tells you with a grin. “Although there’s this little place down near the Potomac that is a wine bar paired with your – what did you call it? Adult Lunchables?” He tilts his head. “I think you might like that.”

The fact that he picks up on the thread immediately makes you flush warm again and grin so broadly that your cheeks ache. “It sounds perfect,” you admit. “Although I think Donna might float just a little if she finds out we’re planning date number two before the entree is even served on date number one.”

“We don’t have to tell her.” His own grin turns slightly mischievous. “Let her dangle for a bit before we let her know about that. It’ll drive her crazy.”

"You know I'm going to get just as many voicemails as you, right?" The devilish smile highlights his dimple far too perfectly and just about has you swooning, but you manage to keep it down to just a girlish giggle. "Are you going to be a bad influence on me, Marcus?"

“Depends on what you think is bad.” Marcus quips, winking at you as he leans back. You are charming, funny, sweet. All things that his mother had noted but he’s also attracted to you. And thoroughly enjoying this date.

Confidence looks very fucking sexy on him, and you end up leaning forward instinctively when he leans back, like he's pulling a string somewhere inside your ribcage when he goes. "Maybe I like bad. And I'm just making sure I'm going to enjoy myself?"

There’s a split second where Marcus has a choice on if he’s going to make a dirty innuendo, just like you have. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” He promises, that grin turning slightly salacious. “Multiple times.”

He knows full fucking well what he’s doing, and the poorly timed sip of wine you have just taken nearly comes out your nose when you quickly cover your mouth with one hand to keep from spitting it everywhere or even choking on it. “Guarantee, huh?” When you can breathe again and don’t have wine in your mouth anymore, you manage to raise one steady eyebrow at him. “You’re a very confident man, Agent Pike.”

“It’s a money back kind of thing.” He teases, enjoying the easy banter and the fact that you are leaning into the atmosphere rather than getting offended by it.

“Oh, I see.” You tease right back, loving the freedom in the atmosphere between you. “So I’m investing in my future enjoyment?”

“Exactly.” He hums, nodding in an exaggerated manner. “You understand perfectly.”

******

“I don’t think I can do it,” you groan playfully, looking over the empty plates of the amazing dinner you just shared and knowing that dessert would have disastrous consequences. “I think I might pop like a balloon.”

“It was a lot of food.” Marcus admits, his own stomach edging just on the cusp of being overly full. “Plus the wine. So I don’t think I can make room either.” He sighs and leans back to rub his belly just to tease.

“It’s a good thing it’s a beautiful night for a walk.” The thought had been brewing for a while, and you offer Marcus a hopeful smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”

“Absolutely.” The check is discreetly placed by his elbow and he shakes his head when you move to your purse. “This is my treat.” He insists, pulling out his wallet and putting his credit card down without glancing at the bill.

“Then next time will be mine,” you insist, having a feeling that Marcus is not at all the kind of guy to let that fly, but at the same time you have to wonder when the last time was that he allowed anyone to take care of him.

He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. “So, where would you like to walk?” He asks. “There’s a lot of little shops and bars nearby.”

Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly lively, and since you had taken the Metro you don’t particularly care what direction you head in. “We could always head toward the Mall and let ourselves get distracted along the way?” You suggest, wanting to leave the night wide open for anything or everything.

“That sounds good to me.” Marcus brought his car, but the neighborhood is relatively safe and the parking isn’t by the hours. “Do you have comfortable enough shoes on?” He hadn’t noticed your footwear, but he wants to check.

“I’m not really a heels kind of girl,” you admit, hoping that that won’t break some kind of weird unconscious rule he has in his head. You’ve been told before that you should dress more femininely but the idea that high heels are the only feminine footwear seems utterly ridiculous. “And I’m always up for a walk.”

“That’s good.” He chuckles and when both of you stand from the table he kicks out a foot and shows his comfortable loafers. “I have to wear dress shoes at work, but I’m never going to bash comfortable footwear.”

“I learned a long time ago that knee-high boots go with almost any dress or skirt.” You take his arm when he offers it – very gentlemanly – and before you know it you’re out in the crisp night air. The moon is high and the streetlamps are bright, and you sigh a little contentment. Tonight is so, so much better than you thought it was going to be.

“That sigh is either a very good sign or a bad one.” He teases, looking over at you with a playful grin. “Can I ask which?”

“It’s good, I promise.” And as if to prove you, you send him a beaming smile. “I was just thinking how nice the night is, that’s all.”

“It is a nice night.” Marcus agrees. The air has just a bite to it without being bitter and yet it is still cozy. The dark night is illuminated by the streetlamps and the noise from bars and shops spills out onto the sidewalk in muted tones. “It seems magical, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” You agree with a grin, but for you, that magic is pouring off him – not the street around you.

******

“Hey look.” It’s a building that he hasn’t really noticed before but maybe it’s because he hadn’t been looking for it before. “Do you want to stop?”

“Sure.” You’d agree to almost anything right now and you shrug. “What is it?”

“Well, the name is Tomes and Tannins, so I’m thinking it might be one of those trendy wine shop slash bookstores?” He grins at you. “Why don’t we find out?”

“That is a level of fancy I never thought I would reach,” you admit with a grin and let him lead you inside. It’s deceptively mood-lit inside but with enough supplemental lights that you can read everything you need to, and there are cafe tables with chairs smattered around some mismatched armchairs and ever sofas with drink tables at either end. It’s cozy and welcoming, and obviously meant for you to stay a while.

“Hmmm this looks promising, right?” He asks, looking to see if you approve. “Interesting place.”

“Books and wine? Sounds amazing and looks even better.” A beaming smile of affirmation is all for him and you nudge him toward the stacks. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well…” he smirks slightly. “Show me that date idea that you liked? Picking out books for the other to read?”

“Oh!” Somehow you had already forgotten, and grin guiltily as you pull up the list of twenty prompts on your phone. “You’re supposed to roll a die to find out what numbers you get. Roll a die, find a book for each of us that fits the prompt, and just keep going until we decide we have our arms full.” Digging into your purse, you come out with a d20 from when you play Dungeons and Dragons with your friends and hold it up. “Do you want to go first?”

“Ladies first.” Marcus grins and motions towards a bookshelf. “Roll there and we will see what we come up with.”

Normally a high roll would be a great thing to get, but as you stare at the 17 that pops up on the die, you skim down the list on your phone and feel yourself smirk. “Number seventeen. A book that inspired a tv show or movie.”

“Now is this for me to find for you?” Marcus asks seriously. “Or is this your criteria for my book?”

“I think we’re both supposed to pick a book for each other that fits the category.” The video hadn’t exactly been clear, but that is how you interpreted it. And it sounded like the most fun way to do it anyway.

“Okay. So we each find the other a book that inspired a tv show or movie.” He agrees. “I say I roll and then we separate. We don’t show the other the book until we are done picking them out.”

“Alright.” You hold up the d20 to offer it to him. “Roll away, G-man.”

Marcus plucks the die from your fingers and puts it in his palm to close his fist around him. Grinning as he blows on it playfully like he’s rolling dice in a casino. “Here we go.” He tells you before tossing it down.

It's playful and sweet, and you giggle softly when the die hits the shelf and comes up with the number 5. You consult your list, tilting your head with a grin when you read what category he ended up with. "Number five. A book with an overly long title."

He hums and nods. “Why don’t we add a little bit of a challenge?” He asks. You tilt your head curiously, obviously interested. “We have ten minutes per book, so twenty minutes total. When the twenty minutes is up, we meet at the tables to have a glass of wine and exchange books.”

"Deal." The element of a game makes you smile even more broadly, and you hold up your finger before he can jet away from you. "One more thing?" You ask and wait until he nods. "I want to know your least favourite book of all time. Just so I don't grab it by accident."

“Honestly?” He gives you a guilty grin. “I hate the Lord of the Flies.” He admits with a small shrug. “Hated when it was required reading.”

"You are in no way the first person I've ever met who hated that book," you promise him, smothering a little laugh in the process. "I did not like Gone With the Wind. Couldn't even force myself to be empathetic with any of the characters, which is a shame. The plot is interesting."

“The movie is better, at least it’s watchable.” Marcus admits. “I always hated the scene after the little girl died.”

"Alright." Pulling out your phone, you set a timer for twenty minutes and watch him follow suit with that mischievous smile painted back in place. "Ten minutes for each book, and then we meet right back here for wine and to trade titles."

“Good luck.” With a wink, Marcus whirls around and rushes off, already having a title or three in mind.

It becomes a sort of secondary game – any time you run into each other in the maze of shelves you immediately guard the books you are carrying with your entire bodies and back away or even sprint away from each other so that the surprises won't be spoiled. It has the two of you giggling like idiots and has definitely attracted the attention of some of the other patrons, but no one seems to really mind. Who could possibly mind people having fun in a bookstore?

When he finds what he wants, Marcus barely resists hiding it under his jacket as he rushes up to the counter to make his purchase. Wondering if you will call him out or be disappointed. So he has a backup plan in case. Taking his bag and looking around the bookstore as he walks towards the table you agreed to meet him at.

You use an entire eighteen minutes debating whether or not it's cheating to just grab two of your favourite books to see if he'll like them before you finally just do it. They do fit the categories and he did say that he likes romances so one of them is only sort of a stretch. Grabbing the two novels, you head to the register and then back to the table, only to see him already sitting there. "You were speedy," you observe, raising one eyebrow as you sit down across from him at the table.

“I know what I want.” Marcus tells you, biting back the grin that he wants to display and feeling giddy for his reveal. He motions towards the board that displays what wines they have available. “Do you want to get a glass before we exchange?”

"Sure." He's being cheeky and it's sexy as hell, so you nod and bite back a grin. "You're the wine guru, so I'll try whatever you say is good."

“I think something sweet.” He decides. “A nice Shiraz for us to share?” He asks, wanting to know if you want your own glass or to share again.

"A shiraz to share sounds perfect." Not that you know what the hell shiraz is besides the obvious conclusion that it's wine, but the sharing part is what sounds best to you.

“Okay.” He nods and shoots you a wary look. “No peeking while I order.” He orders playfully, pointing at you. “I’ll be watching.”

He steps up to the counter and you dutifully put your hands on top of the brown paper bag stamped with the shop's logo that you paid for, not peaking in the bag he bought despite desperately wanting to. He comes back in less than three minutes but you're already near squirming in your seat because the suspense is killing you.

“Okay. This is a glass of Layer Cake.” He tells you. “Sounds good, but it’s honestly a first for me too.” He was feeling adventurous and wanted a new experience with you. He’s had shiraz, but he wanted to try this at the same time you did.

"So it's a new adventure for both of us, then." That somehow makes it feel romantic and not just sweet, but it would be silly to say so. "You take the first sip, I insist."

He chuckles. “So I can make sure it’s not poisoned?” He teases. “As you wish, my princess.”

The 'princess' bit makes your cheeks burn, but you don't want to admit that you want to know whether or not he likes it first. There's something about trying wines that makes you nervous and you don't want to accidentally end up loving something that he thinks is subpar. Maybe that's trying wines that is intimidating you, or maybe it's just that you like him. You can't tell, honestly.

Picking up the glass, he sniffs and hums before taking a sip. “Oh this is good.” He groans. “That would be good anytime you wanted wine.”

"Well now I'm excited." He hands the glass over to you and you take a sip, immediately sighing. "Oh, that's fantastic. That would have made me a wine person ages ago."

“I’m selfishly glad that you are exploring it with me.” He admits, admiring how you savor the wine and take another small sip.

"Feel free to be selfish, then, because this is fantastic." Handing the glass back to him, you waggle your bag in his direction with excitement. "Number seventeen or number five first?"

“You want to go first?” He asks, not caring at all. “Sure. Why don’t you surprise me?”

"Your librarian date is excited about books. This should be no surprise." Laughing as you reach into the bag, the book on top is what you decide to go with and you pull out an old faithful favourite. "Number five. A book with an overly long title." You tell him, presenting him with a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg.

Marcus bites his lip and takes the book. “Okay.” He nods. “That is a long title.” He’s a little worried that you won’t like what he had chosen now.

"You look nervous." He does take the book, though, not reject it. "Have you read it before? It's okay if you have...or if you didn't like it." You're not one of those people who believes that a couple has to like all the same things, after all.

“No, no, I haven’t read this one.” He promises. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about. Especially since you seem to love it.”

"I do." It would be kind of useless to claim otherwise, and you sit back in your chair to accept the glass of wine from him. "What did you find for number five?"

“So…” he flashes you a small grin. “I kind of…cheated.” He admits. “I chose a book that is both five and seventeen.” He admits. “But now, so have you so I’m completely thinking that I fucked up. But I’ve got a corny ass back up.” He rushes out to assure you.

"You say cheating, I say creativity." You do bite your lip though, before admitting, "I actually have two of my favourite books that worked for what we rolled...so this is kind of just my excuse to show them to you. Which is also cheating. Just a little."

At least you aren’t mad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a beautiful hardback book. “My book for you is this. The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.” He slides the book in front of you.

It probably isn't the reaction he expects to have you almost tear up at the table, but you gently place your hands on the book and draw it closer to you like it is something delicate and precious – which, to you, it is. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I mentioned wanting to be read to, does it?" You ask him with a grin. "Marcus it's perfect. And believe it or not...despite this being one of my favourite movies? I've never read the book."

“You haven’t?” His jaw drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know which I like better, the movie or the book.” He admits. “I have my own copy at home.”

"I've read Cary Elwes' book, but somehow not the novel." The way he lights up at having made a good choice for you might be the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I guess that's finally about to change."

“I did get another book but I decided it was a bit much after.” He admits, slightly flustered that he bought that book. But it has been made into a movie.

“What was the other one?” His ears have turned red and now you have to know, even nudging the wine glass back toward him in case he needs a little courage.

He blows out a breath and pulls out the other book from the bag. “Okay, but don’t judge me.” He begs, revealing the front of Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Why Marcus, is this a hint?” He has turned an even deeper shade of red and you can’t resist another giggle before batting your eyelashes at him.

“I— no, I don’t mean— it’s just that—” he sputters and chokes on his words before he heaves a sigh and drops his chin to his chest. “Fuck. I knew I should have just found something else.”

“You only should have grabbed something else if you didn’t mean to flirt with me,” you tell him honestly and pull your own book that inspired a tv show or movie out of your paper bag to hand him. The Duke & I by Julia Quinn now has images from the Bridgerton tv show splashed all over the cover, making it unmistakable. “You said you like romance novels sometimes,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve not read this.” He admits, reaching for the book to read the inside cover. “It sounds interesting. This is a show right?”

“Bridgerton.” You nod, wondering what - if anything - he’s heard about it. “Most people call it something like… ‘horny Jane Austen’.”

He snorts and chuckles to himself as he continues to read it. “Then I see why it appeals.” He jokes. “Nothing like love and sex.”

“Technically isn’t that what this is, too?” You ask, waggling the copy of 50 Shades at him. “Just… kinkier.” It’s an honest question, really. Since you’ve never read it.

“It’s – not bad but you can tell that whoever wrote this is just guessing at what they think BDSM is about.” Marcus tells you.

"So...do that mean you do know what BDSM is about?" It's an intriguing thought, to imagine this otherwise very clean-cut looking guy being into anything kinky, and you can't say you hate it. Not at all.

"I—" He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have opened his goddamn mouth. If it was possible to get any hotter, Marcus swears his face would just burst into flames. This isn't something that his mother would know because there is zero chance in hell he would ever tell her. "I was undercover." He explains. "The people I was— associating with, they were into that kind of scene." He bites his lip. "I had to do a lot of research on it, but I've never actually, you know, uh, practiced it." He assures you.

"Please don't think I'm judging," you reach over the table quickly to give his hand a squeeze and shake your head vehemently. "Honestly, if anything? I find it very...interesting. But have never practiced any of it, either."

"I just don't want you thinking that I'm—" He shrugs slightly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Normally I'm more confident than this, but not this time." He chuckles quietly.

"You don't want me to think you're kinky?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. "It's not a bad thing to be. But...I'm sorry if I did anything to shake that confidence." With a half-smirk, you shrug one shoulder in admission. "I promise you'd be extremely confident if you could hear the monologue in my head tonight."

"You didn't do anything, I promise." Marcus reaches out after you had pulled back and takes your hand again. "My last...relationship. She's the one that kind of screwed with my head." He confesses quietly. "But I want to know about this internal monologue of yours."

"The coworker." Of course his mother had told you about his ex-fiancée. She hadn't wanted you to feel like she was throwing you into an unknown situation. "From what your mom said...she sounds like she was a little...dishonest? And that's bullshit. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's done." There's nothing he can do to change it, and he's not sure that he would want to now that he's looking back on the situation. "But I'm hoping that I can get that confidence back."

"Well, if you hadn't said anything, I never would have known that this is the less confident version of you." His hand dwarfs yours, the warmth of it completely welcoming and overtaking all your senses. And it's so, so welcome.

"Is the book, alright?" He asks. "You can just read the first one if you want."

"Oh, no." The grin you aim his way is mischievous. "I'm definitely going to read both. Who knows? I might learn something."

"Have you seen the movies?" He asks curiously.

"No..." You can feel your cheeks heat up all over again. "It always seemed...I don't know, maybe I'm just really vanilla, but they always seemed so close to porn to me?" Not that that is a bad thing. And not that you don't watch your share of porn. Just usually not of the BDSM variety.

"It was actually pretty tastefully done." Marcus admits. "I've seen them. My ex wanted to see them, so..." He shrugs. "You go see them."

"See? You're already a font of information compared to me." His hand is still covering yours and you shiver a little at the innuendo of it all. Of how warm and tempting he is. "I guess I'll have to catch up. Educate myself."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you that you can watch the movies together, but that might be too forward. Instead, he grins. “Sounds like you have a research plan.”

"Apparently so." Under the table, the toe of your shoe finds the back of his leg completely by accident as you shift in your seat, and you grin guiltily. "I was about to apologize for that," you admit, knowing that it must have seemed like you were trying to play footsies or something under the table. "But honestly? I'm not sorry."

“Really?” His brow lifts and he shoots you a grin. “You like playing footsie?” He asks, his own foot reaching out and tapping yours gently.

"I think it's kind of cute, honestly." The innocent shrug is accompanied by a bright, smitten smile, and you nudge Marcus's foot back playfully.

“Best part of cuddling is sliding your foot along the leg of your cuddle buddy.” He tells you. “Or letting your hands wander.”

"Mmm...it's hands." And he has such huge hands...the possibilities are endless. "It's definitely hands."

“You’re a touch kind of girl?” He asks, intrigued by the idea and he wonders if your love language is physical touch. He’s noticed that you’ve reached out several times when reassuring him.

"Touch is a powerful thing." You reason, not making a single move to take your hand out of his. "It can be intense or gentle, reassuring or electrifying. It can be almost anything."

“Electrifyingly reassuring.” Marcus quips, squeezing your hand gently. He picks up the wine with his free hand and takes a sip.

"Like it's exciting but at the same time...feels kind of...right?" Which is exactly how you feel about him, and you're kind of going out on a limb admitting it but you don't think he's gearing up to reject you.

It does, he looks down at your joined hands and smiles. "I think so." He hands you the wine and hums. "Now, we have a couple of options for the rest of the night, if you're up for it." He grins. "We can continue to walk and talk. Or...." He shrugs. "I have my car back at the restaurant and I can drive you back to my place and we can have a cheese board and read to each other?"

He knows what he’s offering — not even in a salacious way — and that a night of reading books is like catnip to a librarian. You can’t help but get excited for it. Even the most boring night in the world would be improved by this, but tonight? With how it’s going? It sounds practically like foreplay. “What are we waiting for?” You ask, grinning, and take the last sip of wine from the glass. “We both have brand new books to read and my guess is that you definitetly have a couch big enough for two. I’d say that decision is easy.”

"Yeah?" He had expected you to say no. It's the first date after all. Beaming at you, he motions towards the wine. "Do you want to get a bottle of this to take with us?" He asks. "It would go good with any of the adult Lunchable things we can get."

“You’re going to keep teasing me about it, but I stand by that description.” You do nod though, having thoroughly enjoyed this particular glass of wine even more than what he had ordered at dinner.

He chuckles. "It's a good one." He admits. "I've never looked at it that way, but now I can see why you say that. I used to beg my mom to buy Lunchables."

“And now you love charcuterie. Which is the very same thing in a much neater package.” It’s silly, but you’ve always liked silly. It can really open a person up.

He squeezes your hand. "You finish that glass and I will see about getting us a bottle to take home." He tells you, letting go to stand up and quickly walk back to the counter. Feeling incredible about this date and almost hating that he had ever been dreading it.

Two sips and a purchased bottle later, the two of you are out the door of the little shop and heading back in the direction of the restaurant to retrieve Marcus’s car. The night is clear and crisp now and even though the city lights glow brighter than the stars you can sweat you feel the distinct light of the moon before anything else.

“How did you come to dinner?” He asks as he guides you towards his car. “If you feel more comfortable following me, I can give you the address.” He huffs. “Although I should probably do that anyway so you can send it to a girlfriend.”

“I have to admit, it’s comforting to have a guy even acknowledge that kind of thing.” Especially that he’s a federal agent, and doesn’t seem to feel entitled to your obedience or safety based purely on that fact. Instead he dutifully gives you his address after you tell him that you took public transportation to get here, and you send it off to your best friend.

“I understand.” He admits. “The number of people who disregard others safety or their own drives me insane sometimes. At the end of the day if someone gets offended for wanting to feel secure, they don’t have good intentions.” Marcus tells you. “Plus, my mother would kick my ass.”

“She definitely would.” You can agree to that, and thank him quietly when Marcus opens the passenger door for you to get into his car. The address he had given you was in Georgetown so you had a short but nice drive ahead.

“So what kind of music do you like?” He asks as he starts the car and looks behind him to back out of the spot. “Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“I would never change Pearl Jam.” Is the very serious reply he gets from you, as the alternative rock station he has programmed on his satellite radio is currently playing ‘Even Flow’. “There was a band that played in my college town that did all 90s rock covers and they were the absolute best shows to go to.”

“That had to be awesome.” Marcus hums. “I was too busy playing to really see a lot of shows and I regret it. But I loved being in the band.”

“Well then I guess we’ll have to find some live music to go see.” There seems like plenty of common ground that you can pick up on together and that is a very good sign if nothing else. “If the sound of a 90s influenced jam band doesn’t make you want to run for the hills, The Southern Ocean is playing at The Runaway this weekend.”

“I’ve never heard of them.” Marcus admits sheepishly. He’s been focused on work and not really out on the social scene the past few months. “Are they good?”

“I mean, I think so.” It’s not exactly surprising that the name is unknown to him and you glance over at him while he drives. “Their bassist is a friend, so I try to support whenever I can.”

“Then that’s definitely something I would want to check out.” Marcus nods. “It’s always good when you see friends play.”

“Would you want to come with me?” It’s only slightly presumptuous to plan out a second date when you’re still in the middle of the first one, but you like Marcus. You like him. He’s smart and handsome as hell and sweet, and even balances flirtation and respect on the perfect level. Honestly, you can’t imagine what kind of an idiot his exes were to let him get away.

“If you’re offering.” He smiles. “Who the hell ever resists an invitation from a pretty girl to go see a band?” He shakes his head. “I might be dumb, but I’m no fool.”

“You’re not dumb. Or a fool.” That’s exactly the kind of thing you don’t put up with from guys you date and you were glad to be able to rule it out very early with Marcus. You exchange a small smile at the next light when he pulls up to it and for the rest of the ride you sing along with the music and just enjoy yourselves.

When he pulls up to his house, Marcus is sort of panicking. Wondering if he had picked up this morning after he had dropped his clothes on the floor from his run. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was a slob.

“Home sweet home?” You guess, looking up at the picturesque blue house with its literal white picket fence. It even has a gate out front that someone lovingly painted flowers on in lieu of adding a name.

“Yeah.” He chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It was a hell of a deal when I stumbled on it and I jumped.”

“It’s beautiful.” The lawn is dotted with wildflowers from what you can see in the dark, and suddenly the mental image of stargazing with him on a blanket is impossible to shake.

“Thank you. Luckily, I pay a wonderful company to keep the yard looking nice because I don’t have time to do it.” He admits with a small laugh.

“They do a much better job than the landlord at my duplex,” you offer him a smile before he slides out of the car and goes around to your door to let you out. The front door is a mere six steps away and Marcus’s house is even sweeter and more inviting once that door is open. It’s like somebody built the set of a Hallmark movie in real life just for this handsome FBI agent.

“So, this is home.” He knows that it’s decorated more than the standard bachelor pad and he’s okay with that. He’s not the type of man to just have a chair and a tv in the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I can put your coat in the closet if you want?”

“Thanks.” It’s the most intimate contact you’ve had tonight besides holding hands, and you swear you can feel your skin tingle when he slides your jacket off your shoulders for you before hanging it beside his in the closet. The little shiver that runs through you is a private thrill and you know you probably look dreamy as hell as you follow him past the living room to the kitchen.

“How about you arrange the cheese board while I open and pour the wine?” He asks as he opens the refrigerator to pull out the sliced cheeses and meats he keeps there because he likes them.

It sounds wonderfully domestic, and you agree to it easily as he pulls out a small board and sets it down on the counter. Packages of Gruyère, havarti, and something marked Seriously Sharp cheddar all fill out the board and you do your valiant best at attempting to fold and rolls the slices of cured meats into petite little roses for the two of you to enjoy demolishing together. Some fresh grapes and cherry preserves join the tray, and Marcus produces a half of a baguette seemingly out of nowhere once the wine is poured. It’s all deceptively easy, the way you seem to work with and around each other, and by the time you make it back out to the living room you know you’re just completely gone for this man. His little smiles, deep laugh, and soft demeanor have you utterly relaxed and so, so smitten.

“Do you want to put on some music?” Marcus asks. “Maybe we can just relax. Lean back and read to each other?” He’s leaning into the idea that you would like this and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

“What do you want to read first?” It sounds like possibly the most romantic idea in the world – just sitting and reading to each other in comfort with an indulgent (and savory) dessert. If the thought of curling up with him and finding out what it feels like to be close to him is anything, it is fairly close to perfection.

“Ladies choice.” He hums quietly, moving over to the record player he has sitting next to the collection of vinyl’s. It’s not to look snooty, he’s been obsessed with them since his mother played them while cleaning, claiming it sounded better. For classical music, it does. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, sets a mood.

“Rachmaninov?” The melody sounds familiar, like something out of a dream, when it starts up and the name seems to drudge itself out of the depths of your memory. “That’s got fantasy and romance written all over it.”

He hadn’t chosen the music with that in mind, but he smiles. “Too much?” He asks, even though he doesn’t feel like you will think that.

“Not at all.” In fact, just the opposite. It feels just right. “But it feels like The Duke & I or Princess Bride for sure.”

“Okay.” He smiles as he moves over to the couch and toes off his loafers to reveal the dress socks he had been wearing underneath. “You can get comfortable.” He promises, taking off his sports jacket and removing his tie.

Getting Comfortable on a date for you would usually lead to sexier things than snacks and reading — but then, is there anything sexier than reading in the first place? For a librarian that seems impossible. So instead, you follow suit and toe off your boots to curl up in the couch beside him.

It seems almost natural to have you curl into the crook of his body and Marcus opens his arms slightly. “How about I read to you to start?” He asks softly.

For most people this might be a recipe for falling asleep, but tonight the sound of his voice is vibrating through the thin fabric of your dress as you lean against him. The lingering scene of his cologne mixed with the wine and new book smell in a way more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be. “You’re dangerously comfortable,” you warn him, drawn right against him like a magnet.

"I don't mind being called that." He laughs quietly, trying not to jostle you too badly as you snuggle against him and he settles into opening the new book. Hearing the spine creak open slightly and he wonders if you are like him and prefer hardback over paperback books. At least for gifts.

“All we need is a fire in the fireplace and we’re just about as picturesque as I can imagine.” It’s dangerous to turn your head to smile at him from this angle because it brings you within about two inches of his perfectly tantalizing lips, but you remind yourself to behave. This is just the first date. No need to rush.

“Not quite cold enough yet.” He can’t help but look down at your lips, imagining kissing you in front of a cozy fire after a night in. Or maybe coming home to relax after a night out.

“Soon.” The moment is so soft, and you watch his eyes drift down to your lips the same way yours did to his a second ago with a warm buzzing in your chest. Whether you mean the fire or the kiss should be soon is entirely up to him to decide.

“Should I start to read?” He asks quietly. Feeling the moment start to grow into something warmer, sweeter.

“Yeah—I—um…” Any hesitation on your part is strictly attraction based, and you move your head a safe distance from his lips so as not to get distracted. “Please.”

Marcus turns his eyes to focus on the book and not on you. “The birth of Simon Authur Henry Clyvedon Fitzranulph Basset, Earl Clyvedon was met with great celebration.” He keeps his voice low, intimate between the two of you as he was reading you a story before bed.

It’s simultaneously the most relaxing thing in the world and causing you to be completely on edge, the way Marcus’s rich voice seems to roll right through you as he begins to read. Every place that the two of you are touching seems to be on fire and you cannot decide if you want to jump him or take the world’s most luxurious ride on his narration alone.

He feels you stiffen in his arms and he wonders if you’ve change your mind. “Everything okay?” He asks, wanting to check in with you. He had anticipated you melting against him, but you seem on edge and if it’s something he’s doing, he wants to fix it.

“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with how relaxed you feel right now, but you know you’ve been a little tensed against him. You had just been hoping that he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he looks at you incredulously says he definitely did. “I’m—” Flustering, you clear your throat as gently as you can manage and bite back a smile. “I’m a little distracted,” you admit, wondering how well complete honesty will go over with him.

“Cold?” Marcus asks. “There’s a blanket right over your other shoulder.” He hums. “Snuggle against me and curl under it. I meant it, make yourself comfortable.” He’s not sure if it’s the change from having your jacket and boots on that’s distracting you, but he doesn’t mind the idea of being under a blanket together.

Not entirely sure that snuggling more would distract you less,” you pull the blanket down anyway and do as he suggests. It brings the two of you even closer and you have to tamp down the coil tightening even further in your gut. Keep your shit together. You’re a grown ass woman! “There.” You smile, but looking up at him brings your eyes to his lips again and you don’t even realize as your tongue darts out to wet your own lips at the sight. “All better.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and he all but groans at the sight of them wet. “Good.” He croaks out, clearing his throat. “That’s good.” It’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, but he needs to so he doesn’t overstep.

“Mmhmm.” Nodding is like a reflex, and for all your determination you just can’t look away. “Very good…”

There’s a moment where Marcus wants to put the book down and give into the desire to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be what you had planned when you came over here and if something happens, he’s determined to let you lead. “So, uh, where was I?”

“I think—” But the thought isn’t there. You have no idea what the last thing he read was, despite how much you love the sound of his voice. Every sense has been taken over by the buzzing hum running through your body and the spark of his skin touching yours. “I don’t—” You could bluster. Or try to skim the page and guess. But your impulses are a hell of a lot stronger than your good sense tonight. “—I really want to kiss you—”

Marcus groans quietly and the book snaps shut with a definitive thump. “I really want you to kiss me too.” He admits. “You should go with your instincts.”

“Instincts are important,” you nod as wisely and seriously as possible even as you’re turning into his side. Those warm puffs of breath that have been ghosting over your skin make you shiver, and you just have an unshakable feeling that this is that start of something completely wonderful. “Oh yeah?” You hum, close enough to nudge his nose with yours.

“Yeah.” Marcus exhales roughly, feeling like he is about to vibrate out of his skin. Despite his complaint to his mom that it was too soon since Teresa, he feels that this is nearly perfect. You’re perfect and he’s painfully attracted to you.

It only takes the smallest movement to fit your lips against his, but the response that floods your body is monumental. It really should only have been a quick, light, gentle kind of first kiss — but he did say to go with your instincts. So instead your hand comes up to graze the line of his jaw when the blissful feeling of having him kiss you back makes you feel like you might vibrate out of place right there on the couch.

It’s innocent, really. The kiss doesn’t go much deeper than the exploration of each other in that first pressing of lips and yet he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest. The only reason you pull back is to check in with him. It really is. Because that simple little first kiss might be the best first kiss you’ve ever had. His smile is a little dreamy, almost goofy as his eyes flutter opened after closing on their own. Looking at you as if you had hung the moon after that kiss.

"You look how I feel," you tell him, grin splitting your face clean across as you tuck tightly into his side. That pure joy radiating from his smile is the same feeling filling up your chest right now.

“Like you could tap dance on air?” He asks with an answering grin of his own. Wanting to pull you close and kiss you again, but resisting.

"Maybe." Neither of you were expecting the giggle you share, but it makes you both smile that much harder and you shift slightly against him. "And...like I didn't want to stop..."

“That too.” The book falls to the floor as he shifts slightly. His eyes are darker now, the lust and desire making his amber eyes turn to onyx. “You don’t have to.”

The momentum sweeps both of you up in a way you didn’t expect at all. As soon as he agrees to wanting even a little more you feel like the whole world tilts on its axis. You shift in his arms to surge toward him, lips pressing against his in earnest and barely managing to swallow a moan when he pulls you in tighter. It has you throwing caution to the wind and taking advantage of the open-mouthed kiss to taste him with your tongue — and letting a second moan out when he tastes just as sweet as you thought.

His arms wrap around you, not wanting you to shift too far away as he drowns in the kiss. Letting the feeling of your tongue caressing his completely overrule any semblance of thought beyond you and making sure you are aware of how much he is enjoying kissing you.

Trying to get as close to each other as you possibly can, you turn one more time in his arms and shift forward without ever breaking the kiss. His arms hold you steady, following wherever you’re going next, and in a moment of impulsivity and bravery you swing one leg over his lap to straddle Marcus completely on the couch.

Groaning, he absorbs your weight easily and his hands slide down your sides to squeeze your hips. He’s not upset you’re in his lap, quite the opposite. It makes his kiss just a little more frantic, trying to devour you a bit more.

Marcus has big hands. You know that already. But feeling them on you is totally different. His grip is firm but gentle, sweeping up and down your sides, and you’re suddenly hyper aware that you chose a dress and leggings and that those things provide no barrier between his body and yours. You can feel damn near everything underneath you and that is a blessing as well making you hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him in waves.

He pants against your lips and feels like he’s underwater. Knowing that he is starting to harden underneath you at the warmth of your body, your core pressed against him.

The only thing that could possibly reel you back in at this point is him — the very same thing that is driving you crazy. But before you start grinding against him or even so much unconsciously moving your hips, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. You’re both panting heavily when you press your forehead against his, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly for balance. “I can stop…” you promise him, knowing that reeling yourself in now will be easier than later. “If you don’t want—more—”

“No.” The word is more whimper and plea than command and he wouldn’t do that anyway. “I— I’m good. I want—” He shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to yours again.

He wants just like you do, if the growing bulge beneath you is any indication, and you are not the slightest bit upset about that in anyway. It isn't what you came here for – or why you went on this date in the first place – but fuck if it isn't feeling like the perfect way to cap off the night.

The subtle circling of your hips has his fingers digging into your thighs as the most delicious groan rips out of his throat. Unsure if he wants you to stop or to just grind on him until you’re panting his name, he slides his tongue down your jaw and to your neck to follow it up with tiny kisses.

"Fuck— Marcus." The iron grip you had on his shoulders has slacked only so you can run your hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under your fingertips just as fast as your own as he dusts kisses along your neck and raises goosebumps in his wake.

“So sexy.” He murmurs into your skin. Scraping his teeth over your pulse and sucking lightly. Enjoying the tremor that runs through you and the way you press down against his cock as you moan. He’s hard and starting to ache now, twitching every time you move.

“Unbelievably hot.” The first time you deliberately tilt your hips and rock your core over him, you both moan and you melt against him with your fingers fumbling for his buttons. “C—can I?” You manage, even though you feel like your voice is shaking. “Want to touch you, baby. Please?”

Exhaling on a shudder, Marcus gulps in air greedily. "Whatever you want." He croaks out. "I— fuck," His eyes close and his head tilts back slightly, exposing his Adam's apple. "I want you, but this stops wherever you want it to." He's not the type of man to push beyond your comfort, but if you said you wanted him inside you, he'd already be asking about protection. Not feeling like this is some sort of rebound, it feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

“I don’t want it to stop,” you admit, pausing with your fingers already in the first button of his shirt to find his eyes. This is not your usual first date M.O. but there is something here. Something very real and new between you that has wrapped itself around both of you together.

“We don’t have to stop.” Marcus promises you breathlessly, biting back a groan of pleasure when your hand splays across his chest, touching his hot skin.

"Thank god." Your own moan is a soft and breathy thing as you lean back to watch the broad expanse of his chest come into view with every button you manage to wrench open.

He manages to chuckle, even though he wants to just pull you closer and rip your clothes open to touch you, but he just pulls you close.

It's so damn easy to sink into him. For both of you to let your hands wander and your kisses migrate across each other's skin. He's stronger even than he looks at first glance and that is very strong – to the point where you really wonder if he might be able to just lift you up and carry you off. And that is just about the sexiest thing you can think of.

Keeping his hands on top of your clothes is going to be a real fucking challenge. Especially now that you have stripped him of his dress shirt and his undershirt. Squeezing and caressing every inch of skin you are baring, even the back of your tender neck while he scatters kisses along your lips.

The way he grabs and bunches your dress in his hands but doesn't reach further makes you groan, wondering if he's hesitant or if he's just waiting for permission. It really only takes a few seconds to realize there is something hesitant about the way he is kissing you or palming your hips and breasts over your dress, so you take one of his hands and guide it under the hem of your dress in invitation.

Marcus moans when you guide his hand under your dress, giving him permission to touch you and it becomes his mission to touch every inch of your body. Both hands slide up and down your thighs in sweeping passes, over your panties and to your stomach.

"Fuck." His hands are burning hot, making you shiver counterintuitively and lean into every touch. At this rate you may leave a damp patch from grinding down on him, but you don't even care. The friction is too good to ease up on. The only way you're moving off is so Marcus can get his pants off.

"That's right, baby." He agrees, unable to stop twitching every time you grind against the hard bulge in his slacks. "Fuck is right." His thumb sweeps under your breast right before he slides up to cover it with his hand, right over the bra and squeeze possessively. "You want to take off your dress for me, sweetheart?"

It's not even worth wasting breath on a reply, you just tear your hands away from his chest to pull your dress up over your head. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor and instantly forgotten about as you pant for your breath back and watch Marcus's eyes drink you in.

He didn't know that he could look so many places at once. Your tits, mouthwatering and begging for his attention. Down to your pretty panties that he wants to rip off and bury his tongue inside you to hear you squeal his name. Back up to your face and he nearly growls as he rushes in to kiss you again.

The momentum nearly knocks you backward but Marcus's arms are there to hold you steady. If he has his way you'll be staying skin-to-skin for a whole lot longer tonight and you have absolutely no problem with that. Every time his cock twitches under you, you can't help but moan, and soon it's going to be just a litany of that sound over and over.

Deft, sure hands reach back to undo your bra, making the first move to strip clothing off of you. Pulling the straps down your arms and immediately reaching up to cup your breasts and fill his hands with them. As simple as it might be to get a simple piece of clothing off of you, your high-pitched whine says everything about how eager you are to be rid of every stitch. "You have the best hands," you moan when he pinches your nipples and rolls the tight buds between his fingers for the first time.

"You have the best tits." Marcus hums, almost chuckling as he watches your head drop down to your chest and then roll back. "Fuck, that's it," he groans when you circle your hips on his cock again.

"S—swear this isn't what I was expecting—" You manage to breathe out, trying to assure him that you never expected sex tonight. "But fuck, baby."

"Me either." He agrees, kissing your jaw and then down your chest. His hot mouth moving towards your breast until he's pulling your nipple into his mouth.

“Mar—Marcus.” The heat of his mouth makes you keen even as your head drops back and the fingers of one hand tangle in his short hair. At this point every time you grind your hips down it’s like you’re trying to reach his cock inside his pants, and you know he’s as hard as you are wet.

He huffs and blows his breath against your nipple as he lets go of it, smirking up at you before sucking it back into his mouth. Knowing that tonight is nowhere near what he had imagined it being like and yet he can't be mad at it. He's eager to feel more of you.

“Feels so damn good.” The contrast of hot and cool on your skin makes your eyelids flutter and you rock in his lap.

He moans in agreement, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak and he loves how it puffs up even more in his mouth. Pulling off only to attack your other breast with equal enthusiasm.

Every flick of his tongue sends another shiver down your spine and as much as you just want to ride it out and see if you can cum only from having your tits sucked on, you want him more. One hand stays threaded in his hair but the other reaches down between you, finding the thick bulge of his cock in his pants and squeezing experimentally to see what makes him moan.

Marcus’s breath is ragged, shuddered against your skin and he pulls away because he might bite down too hard if you do that too well. “Fuck, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him again.

"I—" You breathe, panting when he twitches in your hand and you can feel how thick he is. "I have a condom in my wallet." It had been just a nothing idea, to throw one in while you were getting ready. More of a joke to yourself about how you always seem to be so overprepared. But now? Thank god you did.

"Yeah?" He kisses up your neck again and his tongue slides against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. "I have one too." He admits. He's always carried one, but not because he expected sex, but because it was surprisingly handy to have at times. "Do you want to use yours or mine?"

"Yours first, mine second." It might sound a little overconfident, but something in you tells you for certain that this isn't just a one-time thing. Besides that, Marcus's hazy, lust-filled grin at your comment is worthwhile.

"Good girl." He groans out, twitching against your core at the thought of multiple rounds after you've both caught your breath and recovered.

That makes you moan reflexively, and you don't even pretend to demure over the reaction. It's honest and it's real. Who doesn't want to be praised during sex?

"Oh you like that." He chuckles and leans in to kiss your lips again softly. "I'll keep that in mind." He will, he will take note of every damn think you like.

"Not even going to pretend I don't." You lean forward to nip at his neck in turn before stepping back from him with a groan. With two feet on the rug, you already hate the distance between you. But you'll take care of that as soon as you strip his pants away.

Marcus pouts slightly but he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants so he can lift his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Black boxer-briefs under black trousers is very adult of him, and you're far too focused on the thick length trapped under that last layer of fabric to tease him about boring underwear. Instead you toss him his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and slip off your tights while he fishes for the condom packet.

Catching his wallet, Marcus opens it and pulls the condom out and tosses it on the coffee table before he bites his lip. Looking at you before he lifts his hips again and pushes down his boxer briefs.

Broad shoulders and a thin waist give way to long legs, but your attention is focused on his dark eyes until you let your gaze drop to his lap. The head of his cock is bordering purple, dripping precum, and it gives a distinct twitch against his belly when he watches you watch him. The perfect moment of quiet before the storm that is about to take over, you crack a grin at Marcus and take a step forward. That cock is going to feel so fucking good inside you.

"I take it you approve?" He asks, smirking himself as he holds out his hand to you. "Now, I want you to take off your panties for me, sweetheart."

“Oh, these things?” With your thumbs hooked into either side of your panties, you grin a little wider before slipping them straight down your legs to pool at your feet. “Gone.”

"Fuck." He groans, cock jerking again at the sight of you completely bare in front of him. "You're so beautiful. I'm lucky to be able to touch you."

You hum, shaking your head and making a show of walking the three steps you need to need to be ready to crawl back into his lap. “I could say the same thing.”

He chuckles and rips open the condom to roll down his length. Biting his lip while he studiously applies the prophylactic, he looks back up at you with his hand wrapped around his covered cock. "Then touch me again and make me believe it." He teases.

Never having known a single man who didn’t like having his cock ridden, you fit one knee on the outside of each of his hips and sit yourself down directly over his core, replacing his hand with yours and wishing you had had the opportunity to suck his cock just a little before he applied the condom. Next time, you tell yourself, rocking over the tip of his length and watching his Adam’s Apple bob dramatically until you start to slide that length inside you an inch at a time.

His hands find your hips again. Not to rush you, but to hold you as you slowly start to engulf his cock. Moaning out your name when you get the first two inches inside your hot body and your walls squeeze him tight. "That— fuck, baby, you feel so good." He praises breathlessly. "How— is it good?" He can barely think straight, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable.

“Perfect.” Barely holding onto your last shred of control, you are determined to make sure you both latch on to the bliss of this moment before anything else. “Fucking perfect.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders but the slight pain just adds to how good the way you sink down onto him feels. Groaning again as you keep taking him, wrapping him up in the heat of your body. "Good."

“Goddamn.” When he’s fully seated inside you, you pause long enough for both of you to catch your breath. “Tell me when I can move, baby.”

"Anytime you want to move." He moans, wanting you to move now, but he's not the one who is on top. "You set the pace, baby."

That in itself is enough encouragement, and you raise up on your knees right away to the musical harmony of a moan ripping out of each of you. “Fuck you feel so good,” you moan, barely keeping your eyes open as you set an even but energetic pace. It feels that good, but you want to be able to watch him.

Breathing out shakily, Marcus can't even speak. Too overcome by the pure pleasure that comes when you start to move. Rolling your hips and clenching down around him, you fit like you are perfectly molded around him. Eyes fluttering when you start to lift off his length, but then take him even deeper when you sink back down.

The sounds of sex are distinct – sloppy and wet and loud – as the two of you find a rhythm together. If you believed in Fate you’d say he felt like he was made for you, but as it is you really can barely form any thoughts at all. He fills you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever felt before and every perfect man goes straight to your clit as you ride him.

His fingers are still grazing your hip as his thumb presses against that little button that drives women crazy. Humming when he starts to work quick, small circles on top of it as you move. Wanting to match the rhythm for your pleasure. Your hands are everywhere, pulling in his hair and bracing on his shoulders, grazing down his chest and even reaching behind you to lean backward and get a slightly different angle and groaning loudly when it strikes you just right.

Letting you lead doesn’t mean that Marcus does nothing. His hips rock up every other thrust to make sure that you are impaled on his cock. Toes curling every time, he groans out your name again and again.

Curses and praises fall from your lips, punctuating the litany of moans with colorful encouragement and pleas. Every time he thrusts upward you feel like you’re going to have all of your insides rearranged, and it’s so fucking good you never want it to stop.

“Fuck. Baby.” Marcus leans forward and presses his forehead to your clavicle. “You’re taking me so well. Love it.” His mouth sometimes gets filthy when he’s lost in a moment and it’s no different today. “Pretty little pussy clamped down over my dick.”

Fucking hell. He even talks dirty. You keen in response, a moan so animated and turned the fuck on that you’re picking up the pace and pawing at your own tits in Marcus’s face. It’s beautiful to watch your tits bounce and your hands pluck at them, but he’s a hands on kind of guy and he lets go of your waist so he can lavish attention on them.

It’s an automatic switch. When his hands move to knead your tits and pluck at your nipples, you replace one of your own on his shoulder and let the other drift to your clit to run the same circles that he was just a second ago. You’re hurtling desperately close to cumming and you can’t wait to hear what dirty little praises he’s going to come out with when you clamp down on his cock even harder.

Marcus moans and groans with his nipple in your mouth. His eyes watching your fingers dance over your clit and he’s memorizing the fact that you enjoyed the way he had been touching you. His hips rocking up fast to punch up into you. Feeling you getting closer to your peak with ever gasped squeal you give him.

“So—fuck— so fucking close,” you manage between pants and moans as your body starts to lock down all at once and that coil in the base of your spine tightens beautifully like you were warning it and not just him. “Oh fuck, I’m cum—”

The second he feels you tense up, Marcus pops off your tit and his arms wind around you like steel bands. Holding you in place so he can take over. Thrusting up into you while you start to cum. “That’s it.” He hisses. “Cum for me. Soak me baby. Show me how good my cock feels.” He groans, the hard, sharp thrusts knocking his breath out but he fucks you through it, still babbling. “Like a vice, like a fucking vice. Come on baby, give me all of it.”

The filthy babbling almost breaks you, with the way that it shakes through you and makes you gasp at breaths even with how much you’re panting. Sparks flash white behind your eyes as Marcus’s hips start to stutter, and you’re vaguely aware of a stream of your own encouragements — or maybe just begging him to cum so you can see how gorgeously unwound he looks when he hits his peak. You can’t be sure which it is, or if it’s both, but either way his arms tighten around you that much more and he groans in your ear like sin incarnate.

"Fuck you're so good." Marcus breathes. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your little pussy up." That's not going to happen because of the condom, but logistics don't exactly matter right this second. All that matters is that he's going to be buried inside you as he cums. "Fuck baby, fuck." He chokes out, giving one more thrust and grinding up into you as he whines your name into your ear. Spilling into the condom in hot waves of pleasure.

“Holy shit.” You’re the first to break into giggles, when you finally have your breath back. His arms were so tight around you at the end that you might feel a little bruised tomorrow but you can’t find it in yourself to care at all. That’s the best ride you’ve had in ages and it was only the first time.

Humming, Marcus leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck. Panting to catch his breath. "Holy shit is right." He gives his own little giggle because he's feeling so loose and good.

“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy.” With your forehead pressed to his shoulder and the feeling very slowly returning to your extremities, you’re still not sure about moving immediately. “My legs aren’t working yet. You turned them into jelly.”

"You can stay right here as long as you want." He promises with a grin, his spent cock twitching inside you. He will have to hold to condom when he pulls out, but it's worth it. "Want me to read to you now while you recover?"

The awe and adoration in your expression when you pull back from him is unmistakable. He’s going to read to you post-coitus?! “You’re actually perfect,” you sputter out in disbelief, though you’re absolutely not saying no.

He chuckles and sends you a warm smile. "It's the least I can do," he teases, "since you did all the work." His hands slowly caress your spine and he’s enjoying the way you feel against him.

“And I’ll gladly do all the work again for round two if that’s the response I get.” Not even teasing, you nudge your nose against his and steal a kiss, savoring the taste of perspiration mixed with Marcus’s kiss.

He hums against your lips and slides his hand up to hold you in place to deepen the kiss. "Thank you." He murmurs when he pulls away. "For this. For making it easy to enjoy the best damn date I've had in a long time."

“No need to thank me.” There is so much softness in it that you melt a little bit more, nuzzling into him right there in his lap. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time trying to make sure our second date beats it.”

It makes him laugh, a giddy, carefree sound and he sigh happily. "We should just keep it going then." He decides. "That way we don't have to think of ideas to top this."

You could float away on the sound of his laugh, just reveling in this joyful energy. All the same, you pull back again and find his eyes carefully. “You asking me to stay the night, handsome?”

"What kind of date would I be if I sent you home when your legs are Jello?" He asks playfully, leaning in and nudging your nose with his. "Especially since it's my fault."

“Fault. Generous gift. Same thing.” You both grin, indulging in more kisses until you’re sighing into him all over again. “In that case, I think we should go upstairs,” you murmur. “Read in bed until we either want to go again or fall asleep.”

"Do you want some water?" He asks softly, knowing you might be thirsty after all that work. "I can get you some before we go up?"

“Perfect gentleman.” You hum softly, knowing you need to climb out of his lap but wanting one more kiss first. “Water would be amazing.”

He gives you another lingering kiss, smiling against your lips when you start to pout as you lift off of him. He slides his hand between you to hold the base of his cock, keeping the condom from moving. "Good. My room is the last door on the left." He tells you. "I'll be up in just a second, as soon as I get rid of the condom and get some water."

"Okay." Even though you pause to gather up your stuff, you don't bother getting dressed. Sauntering upstairs naked has an air of comfort and unexpected sexiness to it that you can't deny, but you do stop off in the bathroom to do the extremely unsexy task of cleaning up and having a quick pee. By the time you get out, you barely have a second to slip under the covers before Marcus appears in the doorway.

"Bottle of water, like the lady ordered." Marcus put away the cheeseboard and wine, gathering up his own clothes before coming upstairs. He wants to make sure you are comfortable. Grinning, he walks over in his boxers to hand you the water. "Need anything else, sweetheart?"

"A little company, that's all." Did he manage to get more attractive in the less than five minutes you were apart? That's wholly unfair.

"Company I can definitely provide." He smirks slightly as he walks around the bed to climb in beside you. "Comfortable? Need another pillow?"

"Not gonna lie." As he slides in next to you, you move toward him like a magnet. "I was kind of hoping for a human pillow."

"That's my favorite type of pillow to be." His arms open up to let you settle against him. "Especially when I'm going to read to you."

"Absolutely perfect," you murmur happily, laying your head down on his chest as he picks up the book. Tonight really was, without a doubt, the best date you've ever had. You're going to have to do a hell of a job hosting the next book club meeting as a thank you.

He picks up reading again, basically just starting over. Keeping his voice low and the only light is from the lamp on his bedside table. Letting the atmosphere stay intimate. It might be the first date, but it was going to hopefully the last first date he has.

______

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[primeofprimes115]

A Cold "Treat" - Supergirl x Male Reader

Note: Smut 💕

Art by Krysdecker

For the last three months of Y/N's life, everything has been life changing for him in a lot of ways he couldn't describe at all, to say that he was the luckiest boy on Earth, was a true statement in many the many eyes of males his age to say at least.

All his life had been ups and downs, mostly downs but he always seemed to power through them, even the most overwhelming moments in his life, despite feeling rather vague about his life, all he wanted was an escape from the misery that was his day-to-day life, just something that could uplift him in the dark.

His mother was one of those people, especially after his dad mysteriously passed away, she raised him all on her own, working off on the money she had from a dodgy family, though some of the family were genuinely nice people deep down, the other half were something else entirely.

School was rough, through middle to high school, he had the normal-ish, school experience, just with the added down-sides to it, dealing with the wrong people mostly, he had friends, not much, but he definitely had friends.

College was like a breath of fresh air, it was like he could finally breath once again, no more having to deal with shitty people, no more having to deal with teachers who were mostly plain disrespectful or unfun, who would berate you for being two-minutes late or under the ten-minute mark. No more having to deal with wannabe cool people who think they're the toughest in the world.

College was something... New, despite the costs of having to go there in Metropolis, he was more than happy to have been to somewhere fresh and new, than having to deal with low-life people who thought everything mattered to them.

His life began to take a turmoil at this point, with some ups and downs along the way, his life got interesting but not as interesting as a year later in College.

One day, he was just walking down the street, not wanting to live in a Dorm like any other student would, but he was on his way to College when all of a sudden? He walked into a scene of danger, the city threatened by a super-villain, identity confirmed it to be Metallo, an infamous villain that belonged in Superman's rogue gallery, this was Metropolis after all.

And who was at the scene also? Superman's cousin, Supergirl, renowned for her strong will and outgoing personality and friendly nature, unless you piss her off, was fighting Metallo at the scene in Superman's absence. She was seen protecting citizens from a rampaging Metallo who wanted nothing more than revenge on Superman, vowing to kill Supergirl to spite the Man of Steel.

Supergirl was resilient in her efforts to stop the rampaging Metallo, but thanks to Kryptonite? The Girl of Steel would soon fall under the overwhelming effects, making her nauseous and weak, giving Metallo and edge to the fight.

"I'll give Superman your regards on my behalf" Metallo said to spite her, she tried fighting back a little longer but soon fell to her knees with the Kryptonite in his chest fully exposed to her as a beam shot out, hitting her across the road and into a civilian's parked car.

He remembered hiding, hiding and watching how the fight was going down, seeing Supergirl being knocked down like that was heart-wrenching to watch, after all the good she's done for Earth, despite what many people say about her to downvote her, he wasn't one of those people... He once praised Supergirl for her efforts, after all... She saved him a few times before which was over a year ago just before his day into College, and even before that.

"I-I won't...!" the girl struggled to keep her words up, the Kryptonite weakening her further as Metallo walked closer, the light in his chest growing greener, charging up.

"Time to die, girly!" John Corben sneered before he felt a rock bounce off of his head, making him grunt in annoyance.

"Leave her alone!" turning around, he heard the voice of a boy that threw a rock at him, noticing him standing across the street with a brave attitude.

"Big mistake, kid" Metallo groaned, before his attention fell to the boy instead.

"Oh shit" Y/N cursed out before Metallo went straight after him instead.

This was enough of a distraction for Supergirl to recover from being weakened by the Kryptonite, while Y/N was facing a near-death experience at this point in time, with Metallo out to kill a nineteen-year-old boy, just because he saved Supergirl last minute by attacking him.

The Girl of Steel pulled a plan out of her cousin's book and ripped a manhole out from the ground nearby and proceeded to track down Metallo chasing the kid, she thought how stupid it was of the boy to put himself in danger, let alone...

He sounded familiar to her, as if she had seen him before once or twice, she hadn't struck conversation with him before, but all she knew him as was this "handsome boy".

Soon, she found Metallo cornering the boy in a lone alleyway, soon flying on down to get his attention.

"Hey! Leave the charming guy alone!!" she shouted out at him, gaining his attention before the Girl of Steel melted the manhole cover onto Metallo's chest, just like her cousin once did a few years back.

All she had to do now was fly him up into space, hopefully to knock him out due to a lack of oxygen up out of orbit, now that the Kryptonite was contained, with Metallo cursing out the girl's efforts, trying to fight back, Supergirl was persistent and blasted off into the air, leaving Y/N alone in the alleyway, having to get over the fact that she just called him 'charming' right in front of him.

Soon enough... The boy was just making his way over back to College after having his life ended by a supervillain, but he was stopped by Supergirl calling him out and landing a few feet in front of him, after handing Metallo over to Stryker's Island, to be imprisoned once more.

"Hi" she shyly waved at him with her arms within her gold/yellow outlined red cape, with a cute little smile on her face after greeting the boy.

"Oh? H-Hi there" Y/N waved back at her, feeling rather tensed but surprised to see Supergirl standing in front of him, albeit her floating off the ground a little just to look taller. Her being 5'5 and he, 5'10. "Look, if this is about me putting my life in danger to save you, you... Don't need to say it, it was kinda dumb for me to do-".

"Who said you were dumb to do so?" she asked him softly, making him reconsider what he was saying as she landed on the ground softly, with dust scattering away from her red boots, approaching him. "You did what you thought was right, you're not in trouble or anything" she giggled softly... Oh that giggle, it would send a boy to the stars hearing that.

"Oh? W-Well... Haha" he tittered. "I-I uh... Well... *clears throat* You don't need to thank me, I was just... Y'know?" he shrugged, looking away from Supergirl's eyes for a moment to recollect his thoughts... He would surely not want to get lost in such gorgeous eyes like hers.

She was a superhero, he didn't deserve to get attention like this from one superhero, yeah she saved him a few times before, but that was different. They had no interaction before, which only made him more awkward.

However, Supergirl smiled brightly, letting out a small, soft giggle. "Well... I'm thanking you anyway~♥" she said before doing the unthinkable, floating off the ground and kissing his left cheek, making his face go redder by the second as he blushed hard. It was nothing more than a small and simple kiss.

It was soft and gentle, just like her more friendly nature, ticklish like her golden locks.

"You mind if I fly you to College?" she asked, despite him being lost in what had just happened.

"What?? How did you-?" he stopped himself, still blushing red across the cheeks as he laughed nervously. "Of course you probably know that" he chuckled to himself, keeping his eyes off of her to regather himself.

"Is that a yes?" she asked softly and genuinely. Y/N built his courage to look at her again and saw a gentle look in her face, a caring look in her eyes, a sweet sense of interest in her smile.

From that point on? He began to smile...

Three months... Three whole months had been the most interesting point in his life since then...

Another surprise had awaited him that following week of speaking to Supergirl for the first time face to face, he remembered it clearly... She went ahead to pick him up and fly him back home to his own living space and soon after, she asked him out on a date, 'something casual' she put it, but Y/N knew from that point on...

They were meant to be... He didn't know why, but the genuine look in her face, making sure he was alright every day, checking up on him when she could, she was caring, sweet and kind, completely different from what the internet points her out as. She was this willing to ask him out on a date and like any normal person? He accepted.

It was still all crazy to him... He was dating... No, now he was the boyfriend of Supergirl, or he'd soon learn to know her by another name or two.

Kara Zor-El, who is just Supergirl.

And Linda Lang... No wonder she looked familiar! She was the cute girl in College! No wonder why he caught her staring at him a few times. Who would've thought Linda Lang was Supergirl in disguise? Just to keep a close eye on him during College, blending in with the students.

Since dating Supergirl, or Linda for that matter, he's gotten to meet new people, heroes in other words who both appreciated and were kind enough to allow Y/N to hang out with them with or without their costumes, capes and so what, most notably a few Teen Titans that Kara got along with very well.

Those last three months were held special and dear to him, Supergirl most notably changed his life and perspective on life for that matter alone, she showed him a lot more than he could fathom to realize, the responsibility.

Despite his ups and downs during College and all his sleepless nights... Kara would support him regardless, help him feel more relaxed and happier. He was head over heels for Kara at this point, like she was with him. Around this time, Kara happily moved into Y/N's apartment, bringing more than just her, she brought her cat, Streaky into his life, who warmed up to him in no time.

Currently however, the two were holding hands, walking down the busy streets of Metropolis, Y/N having his Summer break for College for the next twelve-to-fourteen weeks, Kara was more than happy to have him be on break for that amount of time.

Kara was in her disguise as Linda Lang, wearing her glasses after she had flown him through the city for a little bit as Supergirl.

Usually every morning, Kara would be the first to wake, seeing her boyfriend cutely snoring away before she begins to get ready for the day ahead, every morning, she puts on her midriff suit and sets out to patrol as Supergirl. Going to every corner of America to scope out any danger and put an end to it.

It had been like that for her for a while now but she couldn't be more happier anyway, since Superman was mostly absent from Metropolis nowadays, she offered to take over by keeping Metropolis safe, while Superman was needed elsewhere from time to time, he reluctantly agreed and it had been like that for the past few months.

Once her patrols were finished? She'd return home, always in time to see her boyfriend waking up either by Streaky or by her own action of climbing on him, while she still wore her suit. It was sure a sight to see Supergirl straddle him which ended up in him kissing her every time, which was exactly what happened this morning.

She also decided to get him breakfast from the local bakery, his favorite bakery in that regard.

Y/N soon took notice of the street they were walking in on, the same street he once saved Kara within from Metallo three months back, soon chuckling at remembering that day.

Linda notably took notice of his little chuckle, pulling a look of interest into why he chuckled.

"What's got you chuckling??" she asked softly, Y/N looked at her and smiled.

"Oh well, just thought back to the day I saved you from Metallo, this was the same street you fought him in" Y/N pointed out his reason, surprising his girlfriend after she notices.

"Oh yeah, it is" she giggled soon after. "Not far ahead, I thanked you and kissed you on your cheek" she then reminded him before kissing him on the same cheek, pushing up her round, Harry Potter looking glasses after the gentle kiss.

"That was surely a moment that's still in the back of my mind" he smiled more at her, holding Linda's hand tighter, through the crowded street ahead. He used to always have anxiety walking through a street like this alone, social anxiety.

But Supergirl, Kara, Linda had brought down that level of social anxiety since they began dating, before being committed into a relationship.

"Who would've thought that we'd tie the knot not long after?" Linda said with a teasing smirk, noting out their first time doing it in bed last month, following them announcing their relationship to their friends, and to Y/N's mother, who supported him.

His mother doesn't know that his girlfriend is Supergirl yet, but he was going to tell her when the time is right, his mother was already worried enough as she already was three months ago after having a near-death experience from Metallo.

"Our first time having sex? Yeah... That's a night I'm always going to remember" he purred to her, making Linda bite her lip just thinking back on it.

She remembered screaming out his name in pure satisfaction, the feeling of being able to feel so good, of having her walls being broken down by just a mere human. The hickeys, the kissing, the note of consent on one another of taking each other's clothes off.

More notably, she was in her costume for their first time, and she ended up being naked not long after before she felt him inside her, she found it extremely hot hearing him ask to take off her skirt and shorts, along with her boots and crop top with the cape still attached to it. 

It turned her on just thinking more about it. "I'm always going to remember that night~♥" she smirked, staring right at him as he looked at her with a smirk on his face.

"Y'know, if you wanna go at it again, all you have to do is ask" he softly cooed at her before softly laughing.

"Oh, I'm planning to" she winked, as the two continued walking down the busy street on their day out, without any crime for Supergirl to stop currently.

Not far ahead, Linda overheard something with her super hearing, some people ordering ice-cream just not far from where they were.

It was a pretty hot sunny day today, Y/N was only dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, wearing nothing but his sneakers with ankle socks, Linda on the other hand, had her hair tied back with a hair-bobble, while she wore her traditional zipped up hoodie and ripped jeans, hiding her superhero attire underneath as she wore her red boots, the gold-V-shaped part being covered by her jeans.

"Ohhh! There's a guy selling some ice-cream! We should get some" Linda said with a craving for a vanilla ice-cream. C'mon!" she began to drag him toward the ice-cream stand, smiling away.

Y/N began to chuckle at Linda's cuteness, being dragged along towards the ice-cream stand up-ahead of them. "Couldn't wait for my answer, could you?" he asked.

"I already knew what your answer was gonna be, hun" she winked back at him. "Besides, your body could use a cooldown, can't exactly use my... Y'know?" she done a imitation of her freeze breath power with her lips, knowing she couldn't do it within the public while in disguise.

"God, I love it when you read me like a book, it's so hot" he purred and smiled with a small tint of pink appearing across his cheeks, while Linda kept her smile at him, dragging him by the hand gently.

It weren't long until Linda had brought her boyfriend over to the ice-cream stand, waiting their turn to order, Y/N couldn't help but imagine Kara in her superhero attire, the midriff that showed her abs, her petite belly that showed her abs. Oh how it turned him on just thinking about it - with her hair billowing behind her just like her cape, as she'd lick her ice-cream, it was just a thought but it turned him on just thinking about it.

"Hun?" Linda's voice brought Y/N out of his little daydream.

"Uh... Yes?".

"What flavor do you want? I'm going vanilla, plain too" she asked, informing him on what she's picking also.

"I'll go for what you're having" he smiled, as their turn was next.

"Hi there!" Linda greeted the man within the ice-cream stand with a small wave, while holding her boyfriend's hand. "Two plain vanilla ice-creams please" Linda reached within her wallet and pulled out ten-dollars each. "Keep the change too, it'll be fine" she insisted the man who went to work.

Linda took notice on the way Y/N was now looking at her, she couldn't help but look into his eyes, madly in love with him while he was staring her down with some slow blinks, both smiling at each other.

She then softly giggled before leaning toward him. "I've got you covered" she whispered to him with a teasing wink.

Y/N wondered what she meant by that, little beknown to him... Linda knew what he was thinking, she could imagine him fantasizing her in costume, licking her ice-cream cone away, she really could read him like a book, she didn't possess mind-reading powers, even if she did? She wouldn't need them to know what he was thinking.

Soon, their ice-cream was being served to them, Linda thanked the man after politely taking it from him, she handed her boyfriend his ice-cream cone and the two walked off, with the girl holding him by the hand again as she was taking him somewhere where they couldn't be seen.

Y/N would soon find himself being flown up into the sky, with Kara holding her arm around his waist, she soared through the air, until she brought him to a rooftop with an amazing view. He felt his feet touch the ground soon after, recognizing they were on-top of a building where Kara usually stashed her Linda Lang disguise, safely out of reach and hidden from sight from anyone but her... And her boyfriend in other words.

"Here, hold this for a sec" she handed him her own ice-cream cone, as she began to take off her disguise, pulling off the hair-bobble that she tied her hair back with before removing her glasses.

Y/N could only stare at her as she began to take off her hoodie, revealing the S on her crop-top before her cape was freed behind her, picked up by the soft winds just like her golden hair.

Y/N was licking his ice-cream during this time and chuckled as soon as he saw the crop-top being freed. "Y'know? The ripped jeans with the midriff works really well" he brought to her attention.

"You think so?" she asked as she took them off next, freeing her blue skirt which billowed and showed her red shorts underneath the skirt.

"Yeah... It sure does" he nodded, licking his ice-cream more before handing Supergirl's cone back to her.

"Hmm, I'll consider it an idea" she smirked, before beginning to lick her ice-cream next. Looking at her boyfriend passionately as she did so, beginning to levitate also off the rooftop.

The next few minutes, with Kara licking her ice-cream cone while levitating, Y/N soon found himself staring right at his superhero girlfriend, getting lost in the moment of watching her lick her cone.

Her tongue twirled around the cold treat, licking it profusely, even turning the cone around to get the vanilla taste all around her tongue, before using the tip of her tongue to get a long lick.

He began to realize what Kara had said earlier while down on the ground, that she had him 'covered'? Was this what she meant?

Levitating up in the air, licking away at her ice-cream as she stared down at her ever-loving boyfriend, her cape and hair being picked up by the wind as she only looked down at him, licking at her ice-cream cone with a suggestive look.

Just to turn him on by making obvious moves with just her ice-cream, teasing him with her tongue over a frozen beverage? He was already getting turned on by it alone, even by her muscles alone which she demonstrated 

Supergirl then bit her lip while taking a look at Y/N, licking her lips after getting some of the ice-cream on the top of her lips, before she noticed the boy's ice-cream was beginning to melt after he had done nothing but stare at her while she was eating her ice-cream in a suggestive manner to tease him.

Y/N imagined having his manhood sucked by her the way she was licking her ice-cream, her tongue twirling around the top, using her mouth to nibble the cold treat before she licked her lips. Imagining she'd do down to town on his shaft made him feel hot and horny.

"Oh, Y/N. Your ice-cream is melting" she brought to his attention while giggling away.

Y/N looked at his ice-cream and right away began licking it, laughing softly while doing so. "Sorry, you uh... Well, caught me off guard with... Well..." he couldn't even finish his sentence without blushing hard.

Kara gave him a teasing smirk and soft laugh, floating on down toward him to plant a kiss on his cheek, her lips were cold from the ice-cream itself, which seemed to cool him down a little bit more.

"There'll be more after this~♥" she whispered into his ear, continuing to eat her ice-cream as she made it noted that she knew what he was thinking, she didn't need him to tell her what he wanted, she could see it in his heart and eyes alone.

She continued to lick her ice-cream and Y/N did too, proceeding to turn him on and tease him much more with her ice-cream and tongue, she even went far as to give him a wink and bedroom eyes.

'God, she's turning me on even more' he could say to himself. He didn't think this is how his day would go, though lately he had been a little stressed out, there were many things that were his escape from reality, but Kara was one person that kept him stable, she was his main pillar in life since she made herself known into his life. 'So fucking hot' he thought to himself while staring at the Girl of Steel licking her cone.

It was all he could think of within the next minutes, eating their ice-cream away with each other before finishing.

Once Y/N had finished and so did Kara, she proceeded to fly him all the way back to their living space, with only one thought in mind...

Giving him a cold "treat" to remember, to give him a good time after teasing him for the last twenty-minutes. To think he was turned on? She was also turned on just thinking about sucking his cock and then riding it until he and her finish together, with their juices flowing with one another, just like last time.

Y/N was a little hot, it was a little hotter than it was yesterday, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was turned on or if it was just because of the weather.

(Smut begins)

"I know you've been thinking about it" Supergirl spoke in a lustrous tone, placing her boyfriend back onto his feet after flying on through the window of their shared home.

"About what?" he pretended to not know what she was talking about, making an obvious smirk that he knew exactly what she was on about.

"With a smirk like that? You can't play dumb" she teased, pulling him by the collar of his T-shirt. "Otherwise, I'd say your heartbeat says your lying" she lustfully giggled, pulling him into her lips, passionately kissing him next, their lips beginning to smack off each other slowly.

"Mmm" Y/N moaned into the Maiden of Might's lips in unison, her hands were on his chest as his hand sneakily groped her breasts just over her House of El glyph on her crop-top, making her let out a little cute noise.

"If you want to play that game?" Kara mumbled into his lips as one hand began to slip into his shorts and boxers, getting a gentle grip onto his shaved manhood as it increased in size upon her touch. "Be careful what you wish for~♥" she made a notable remark with a suggestive tone into his ear.

"I know what I'm wishing for~♥" he purred to her, feeling Kara's hand poke and and explore his cock within his boxers, biting his lip at her hand examining his length as his bump increased.

Supergirl let out a giggle through his lips as their kiss continued, before turning into a little make-out session for just a few more minutes, until Kara had enough and immediately dropped down to her knees, looking straight up at Y/N while biting her lip.

She then began to untie his shoes, so he could kick them off, untying one at a time carefully so she didn't accidentally ripped the shoelaces with her bare strength, his shoes were pretty a lot of money after all.

One by one, she untied the knots, letting him take off his shoes before looking straight up at him while biting her lip suggestively, giggling away as her hands drove up to his shorts.

"I turned you on a lot earlier, didn't I?" she cooed.

Y/N nodded in complete silence, in awe at the sight of Supergirl on both her knees, slowly taking off his shorts before they were dropped at the end of his feet, for him to kick away as she moved to his boxers next.

A very noticeable bump was seen, earlier she used X-ray vision to get a good look at it while they were having their ice-cream, she couldn't stop thinking about it since then.

A suggestive smile sprang across the girl's face as she was slowly pulling down his boxers, his shaft now exposed to Kara Zor-El who smirked at the treat ahead of her as she licked her lips.

She smiled right up at him before taking a lick up the shaft, making Y/N shimmer and squirm a little, with her tongue still cold from the ice-cream they had earlier.

"Ohmygod" he said in a fast manner as Supergirl took his cock into her mouth. "Your tongue is cold, holy shit that's so good" he breathed out as Kara giggled while beginning to suck him.

She bobbed her head forward slowly, twirling her tongue around his shaft while she bobbed forward and backwards.

Her eyes stared right up at him, seeing a look of satisfaction spread across his face as her cold tongue twirled and danced around his shaft, before a pop sound came from her mouth, taking his cock out of her mouth.

She began to give him a little hand-job, using a little bit of her super-speed to satisfy him a little more, which seemed to be doing more than satisfy him, it made him moan her name.

Kara had once used super-speed before during their first time, notably using her super-speed as a vibration to stimulate his cock which worked as a hand-job in a way and she used it a few times to even satisfy herself by playing with her pussy.

"Ohhhh Kara!" he moaned her name again, rocking his head back while Kara pleasured him with a smirk across her face.

"You gonna cum?" she asked him.

"If you c-c-continue u-using your... SSSSSuper ssspeed, then yyyeah" he stammered, giving Kara the pleasure to stop and take his cock back into her mouth, using her tongue on the tip of his cock, twirling and dancing around it.

Her tongue still cold, from an icy treat, she continued to satisfy him more with a tongue still frosty as the arctic in the North-Pole.

Y/N proceeded to take off his T-shirt, getting a little sweaty by the minute as Kara continued going to town on his cock, looking straight up at him with a smile that could brighten the heavens.

"You taste so good" she whirled and purred toward him, wanting to satisfy her boyfriend more by complimenting how good his cock tasted, it sounded nasty but he didn't let it bother him, she looked and seemed satisfied though.

His eyes then rocked back as Kara took it deep into her mouth next, gagging a little on his cock hitting the back of her throat, her saliva coating his cock all around as she took it deeper again. A giggle escaped her throat as she smiled brightly right up at him.

She once again took a long lick up his shaft, coated by her saliva and the coldness of her tongue, she continued to lick the top of his shaft, just like she did with her ice-cream cone earlier, giving him a satisfying feeling and view as she slowly drove one hand into her skirt and shorts and began to play with her pussy, inserting two fingers in her which she moaned a little in pleasure.

And she was doing this while still in costume, which only made it more better that Supergirl was sucking him off.

"Ohhhhh KaRRRRaaaa, fuck meeeee" Y/N moaned in ecstasy, being pleasured by his superhero girlfriend since it had been a month from their first time having sex. He wondered how Kara knew what she was doing.

If he had asked, she'd probably say that she was Supergirl, of course she knew what she was doing.

A little soft giggle escaped Kara's throat as she continued licking the tip of his juicy cock, some pre-cum now leaking as she took notice of it, wanting to not put it to waste, she licked up the pre-cum that was leaking.

She thought it wouldn't be as satisfying to even lick it up but it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, before she made a pop noise again with his cock escaping her mouth, twitching a little as a little more pre-cum leaked out.

"You want me to fuck you?" she brought to his attention, she was already planning to fuck him regardless, but she took what he said earlier to heart.

"Y-Yeah, I was hoping you'd say that" Y/N purred, giving Kara bedroom eyes before she stood up and kissed him on the lips, starting a make-out session as she levitated off the ground a little.

Her tongue danced with his next, with him beginning to fight for tongue dominance, still tasting the vanilla ice-cream they both had earlier.

Supergirl moaned into Y/N's lips as she began to fly him over to their bedroom as Kara thought about keeping her costume on this time, she once overheard him fantasizing over her keeping her suit and cape on while they were going at it in bed, it turned her on thinking about it around that time, and now this was a perfect opportunity.

Once Supergirl reached the bedroom, she put Y/N down onto his feet, the only part that wasn't complete naked and pushed him gently onto the bed while she giggled and he chuckled.

"I know you've been fantasizing about me keeping this on while we fuck" she brought up to his attention, making him blush while he smirked.

"Because I just love staring at your abs, babe" he made it known to her. "And you're also so fucking hot when you wear that~♥" he eyed her up and down as Kara could only smile in satisfaction, it was all she wanted to hear him say.

His cock twitched for her to sit on it, him making it twitch himself as she licked her lips just already thinking of fucking him senseless, of her being fucked senseless for that matter by riding him for a change.

"I want to fucking ride you, you dirty boy~♡♡" she said with a lustful tone, making a suggestable remark much to his surprise by what she called him.

"Ohhhh, I love it when you talk dirty to me~♥" he purred as he sat up toward her, his hands driving up to her skirt and shorts, where his hand felt her red and gold outlined shorts. "May I?" he asked to remove them.

Kara gasped in surprise and smiled at him, nodding for him to go on ahead and remove her shorts.

With the green light given, he began to slowly take off Kara's red and gold shorts, while looking back at her a few times and giving her a suggestive smile. Kara bit her lip as she felt her shorts reaching down her legs.

Before long, her short shorts soon went down to her boots, giving her the opportunity to take them off before she could begin to fuck her boyfriend.

She took her boots off before lifting her feet over the shorts that were dropped down from her skirt by Y/N who watched her in ecstasy, Kara proceeding to show her boyfriend the shorts before throwing them to the side with her giggling softly.

Once again, she pushed him gently back down onto their bed, climbing on top of him next as she then hovered her pussy over his cock after getting a good grip on it.

Supergirl looked at Y/N for approval to have her guide his cock into her pussy, he gave the nod and instantly, a shade of pink spreaded across Kara's face.

"{Oh fuck!}" she said with pleasure in her native language, Kryptonese. "Oh! Ah! Yeah!" she moaned out loud, beginning to bounce on his cock up and down gently.

The afternoon sun shined on through the curtains, illuminating off of Kara's suit and perfect petite body.

"Ohhhh Karrra" Y/N groaned her name, feeling her walls clench around his cock as she bounced up and down, up and down, and wouldn't stop doing so.

Her bounces were slow and gentle, she was trying to be careful of her own strength on the other hand, not wanting to break her boyfriend in half since she was a full-blood Kryptonian, it was said she was stronger than Superman.

Faster? It's been proven before.

But stronger is still something she and her cousin still contemplate to this day, she can do anything her cousin can, but her willpower is pure and intent, she once used a Green Lantern ring as proof which requires a ton of Willpower.

"Mmmmm" Kara rocked her head back slightly, moaning in pleasure, it definitely felt much more better than it did the first time, the feeling of his cock inside of her walls, penetrating her as she continued to rode him like riding a bull.

She grinded and bounced more forcibly, her flesh smacking and making contact with his with an audible smack as the two moaned in unison.

Y/N opened his eyes to look into Kara's as she looked back down at him, her cheeks blushing pink with pleasure as her mouth was wide open, her moaning intensifying as the two began to laugh softly at one another.

"Ohhh fuck me, Supergirl~♡!" Y/N said with a dirty attitude, staring straight into Kara's eyes as she smiled, drunk on his cock before the two began to make out with her leaning down on him.

She bounced her ass up and down, up and down, grinding on his manhood and wasn't stopping anytime soon with his hands on her ass, groping her perfect ass cheeks, small audible claps happening as the two continued making out.

"Mmmm, yeah!" Kara moaned into Y/N's lips, the two fighting for tongue dominance soon after again as Y/N began to steady himself and began bouncing his waist up into her as her ass clapped down on him. "Ahh!" she moaned out, surprised by the effort from her boyfriend.

Supergirl pulled her lips away from him so her boyfriend could breathe, and so she could look at him in the eyes, a ecstatic smile creeping up her face while her mouth hanged open. "Hahaha" she laughed softly with her ass cheeks slapping off his thighs softly and gently.

Y/N bit his lip while he looked at Kara in the eyes, she looked so gorgeous and he couldn't stop staring into her baby blues, her cape and skirt bounced around as she continued bouncing and their flesh slapping off each other with the boy giving some effort to thrust up in her in unison of her bouncing.

"Jesus, Kara... You. Are. So... B-Beautiful" he said in between thrusts up into Kara's pussy, with Kara giggling in pleasure after his words left his mouth, her hands explored his chest and soon she used his chest to support herself.

This gave him the opportunity to once again, grope Kara's breasts, his eyes soon tracing out the S on her crop-top, meanwhile, Kara grabbed one end of her red and gold outlined cape and then the other end before wrapping it around her and onto Y/N's chest, lifting it up a little to wrap herself a little too as she smiled down at him.

It was then Y/N lifted Kara's crop top up a little, witnessing her perfect tits jiggle up and down along with her bouncing as he went to grope them, to satisfy her further with him massaging her breasts.

"I. Love you. So much" Kara blurted out, drunk on his cock still as she continued bouncing with a rough intent now, knowing he can take it just like last time.

"I love... You too. My sweetheart" Y/N managed to say out to her, feeling a rising tension in his cock with it twitching more inside of her with every bounce she did on it, her walls began to get even tighter as well... Which meant one thing.

She was coming close to finishing and so was he, but not yet...

Her moans soon turned softer each passing bounce she done, their flesh bouncing off each other more violently as her tongue hanged out of her mouth with her eyes rolling back for a minute, some saliva dripped down from her tongue and onto Y/N's chest as he stared at her passionately.

He never thought this would be his life going forward, being the boyfriend of Supergirl and getting to fuck her when the opportunity would come by, now being his second time having sex with her, and it seemed to be better than last time.

Being rode upon by the Girl of Steel was hot in his eyes, just watching her bounce on him while her hair, cape and skirt bounced and billowed with her as a pink blush sprung violently across her cheeks just set it up perfectly, to think this was what he once fantasized since the first time, he felt more than happy right now.

He felt free...

"{Oh fuck me, I'm all yours!} she said in her native language once again, he didn't know what she meant but it sounded good and pleasuring, let alone, it sounded hot to him.

"It's so fucking hot when you speak in Kryptonese" he knew it was her native language, he wasn't an expert at it but Kara promised to teach him one day.

"Remind me to teach you some after this!" she managed to say before letting out a big moan of pleasure. "Ohhhhh fuuuuck!!" her tongue once again hanged out her mouth with her eyes rolling back.

Y/N on the other hand rocked his head back in complete pleasure, his face clenching with satisfactory enjoyment with Kara's walls beginning to tense up even more than before, wrapping around his cock like a big bear hug but with a pleasuring feeling.

From once he thought Kara could break him in half? She was surprisingly good at controlling her strength during this, she always feared about having sex with a normal human could come with repercussions, but she was proven wrong with her first time with Y/N, though she still had to keep her strength in check, just in case. 

"Oh-Oh fuck!" Kara dug her nails into the fabric of her red and gold outlined cape. "Y/N, I-I" she moaned and stammered as her juices began to squirt out after ten-more-minutes of non-stop bouncing and grinding on her boyfriend's manhood. "I'm cuuuummming!!!" she cried out loud, tears brimming near her eyes as her blush deepened, her toes clenching as she let her juices flow and spread like a water-fountain, some of her juices bursting out of her pussy while she kept bouncing up and down on his cock, and onto his pelvis.

"Oh, fuck I'm gonna cum too!" Y/N felt the pressure rising in his manhood, twitching inside her, she could even feel it in her twitching.

After a few more bounces and thrusts, he let his juices fly inside of her next, Kara gasped in shock as Y/N moaned out in little notions before a big groan escaped him, signaling that he finished in her.

His eyes opened soon after finishing, staring right up at his beautiful girlfriend before Kara leaned down on him and kissed him straight onto the lips once more, he breathed a little heavy but Kara didn't seem to be breathing heavily, Kryptonian Physiology and all her powers said it all.

She found it cute to hear him out of breath after just bouncing on his cock for the last twenty-to-twenty-five minutes. It was a cute sight to behold too with him out of breath from it all after thrusting up in her too.

Their make out session continued for another two-minutes before Supergirl pulled back for Y/N to breath again with his eyes opening slowly along with hers.

She looked so elegant, so perfect, yet she chose him... She chose him to fall in love with, he wasn't perfect, but Kara wasn't perfect also, she's said it herself before.

He was lucky... It was all he could say.

"How was that for a cold treat huh?" she called back and joked before giggling away, Y/N softly laughed at her as they stared into each other's eyes.

"I'm all yours, Supergirl... I'm all yours" he said to her with a sweet tone of sense, making her smile as she plopped down next to him, with his and her juices escaping her entrance. Her long cape spreaded out over the bed and underneath her, some of the fabric landing on Y/N's torso 

"And I'm all yours too, don't ever forget that, hun~♡" she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek as she sat up a little, continuing to make out with him for the next few moments they spent together...

________________________________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 7366

[peachdues]

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,” he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

[yuyusboyfriend]

WATER˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

500 follower special!

pairing: bestfriend's brother!wooyoung x ftm reader [gn reader coming soon!]

wordcount: 6,7k

content: Your best friend's twin has been the bane of your existence for the last 10 years. That was, until, he decided to visit your dreams.

warnings: nsfw, drinking, weed - both joints and a bong, drinking games, cunnilingus, pool sex, sex without a condom (dont!) afab ftm reader, use of words like cunt, clit etc. lmk if I'm missing anything!

soundtrack: water + truth or dare - tyla, Water - Ten

a/n: Thank you so much for 500 followers😭😭 I hope this fic makes up for all of my breaks between fics I made this as long as I could bc I really wanted to do smth special <333 also shoutout to @zh0nggucc1 for being my bsf 🙏❤️ one more note, this is proofread but I always manage to make a 1000 mistakes so I apologise for any!! Happy reading!

Masterlist!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"Finally you're here! Took you long enough" your best friend shouts over the music, holding out a shot glass filled with a clear liquid, "Gotta do a shot before I let you in, Jongho's orders" she smirks as she salutes.

"Really? At-," you quickly glance at your phone," 5 pm? I thought drinking would start later?" you look over the girl's shoulder to see Jongho and Mingi already holding clear cups with some sort of concoction in them.

"Look I'm not arguing with Jongho, he'll throw me in the pool and I haven't changed into my swimsuit yet, so! Take the damn shot will you, pretty please?" she looked at you with big round eyes as if that would persuade your decision.

"I'll do it just stop looking at me like that, it's kind of scary…" you teased, grabbing the shot and throwing it back, hissing slightly at the burn.

"Atta boy! Now go say hi while I go get changed." she ran off before you could argue. As you stepped inside you were greeted by your two friends that you had just seen, Mingi throwing his arm over your shoulder pulling you close to him and offering you his cup. You took a sip out of curiosity about what they had been drinking, not surprised when it tasted of all the soju flavours mixed with a dash of some juice they'd found in the back of the cupboard.

"Mmm! That is awful! Best one yet Mingi I mean seriously they should get you making poison," you and Jongho laughed as Mingi shoved your shoulder and pouted.

You felt eyes on you from somewhere as you looked around the room, your vision landing on the one person you'd hoped you wouldn't have to see until at least 10 shots in. Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was the biggest pain in your ass, and what made it even worse was that he was your best friend's brother. You had been best friends with Vee since the rotten age of 12 years old. Since your first day at your new school, you had practically been attached at the hip, never being away from each other for more than a couple of days — the problem there was that her twin brother Wooyoung was also attached to your hip, and somehow knew how to get on your every last nerve. He never did anything inherently bad to you but you just found him irritating nonetheless, even as the years passed, the smirk on his face every time he said or did something that knew would rile you up irked you.

"Your little boyfriend is watching you again~" Mingi sang into your ear, obviously already tipsy because there was no way in hell you'd ever be with Wooyoung. Was he attractive? Objectively, you guessed so. Had he given you butterflies once or twice when he held your hips to pass you as you helped his mom with the dishes? Maybe? But that was just a natural reaction, it didn't mean anything. Did the clothes that he gave you after you came out smell like him and make you feel funny? … He uses a nice cologne, that's all— The point is he wouldn't date you with the way he acted and you wouldn't either. So it was fine. Totally. Fine.

You elbowed Mingi in the side causing him to double over dramatically and wail, making Jongho laugh even more. You laughed along but couldn't shake the feeling that Wooyoung was still staring at you, so you excused yourself from the boys to go see Hongjoong in the kitchen.

"Vee not with you?" He asked as he spotted you rounding the island to greet him.

"She's upstairs getting changed, Praying she won't be much longer, need her to swat Wooyoung away." Hongjoong laughed as he shook his head at your misery.

"Surely he's not that bad y/n, he's cool when he's with us, a yapper at most," you stared at him with disbelief.

"All of you. Traitors!" You sighed as Hongjoong began to laugh more.

"Who's a traitor?" Your muscles stiffened as you felt a familiar pair of hands on your sides, causing you to roll your eyes and ignore the dip in your stomach. One thing Wooyoung never seemed to understand was personal space, 'what's yours is mine' as he would say.

"We all think you're just the best Wooyoung but y/n doesn't agree," Hongjoong exclaims to the boy behind you. You shake your head at Hongjoong's words, they might be true but it was still rough he put you on the spot. Wooyoung's thumb massaged the flesh at your side as he placed his head on your shoulder.

"Impossible, y/n loves me, don't you?" He smirked as you looked down at him. That fucking smirk.

"yeah, about as much as the rock in my shoe right now," you huffed as you shrugged him off. "I'm getting in the pool, I'll see you lot there, yeah?" you announced, walking through the back door before hearing Vee's voice behind you.

"Wait for me!" She exclaimed slipping by her brother and joining your side, a cute and flowy bathing suit adorning her body as Hongjoong watched her flaunt past. As you got to the pool Vee turned to you, "What was happening with you and Woo back there?" you shook your head, already sick of hearing his name in such as short amount of time.

"Nothing was happening! He's just weird and clingy!" Vee looked at you with confusion, being able to read your thoughts and know them better than you do at this point.

"Then why are you being so defensive? He doesn't usually piss you off this bad, what happened?" She said in a soft tone, the tone that made you feel safe despite feeling so irritated. You knew the answer to her question, but your words fell short.

Last night you had a dream. About Wooyoung. Everything seemed normal until he sat down next to you on your best friend's bed and laid his hand against your thigh, his thumb circling the skin just as his hands would always do when they came into contact with you.

"You want me, don't you?" His big brown eyes stared into your own as he carried on massaging your flesh, tingles zipping up and down your spine as you sat there in utter shock. The close proximity forced you to take in all his features. His little moles under his eye and on his lip. His gorgeous jawline sculpted by god himself. The way his fresh out-of-the-shower hair was draped over his forehead and the way the water droplets rolled over his tanned skin. God, he really was pretty, wasn't he? Your eyes darted back and forth between his features before finally landing back on his lips. You felt yourself leaning forward, losing control of your muscles as you did.

"Yeah." Wooyoung's face moved towards yours and joined your lips together so gently you barely felt it as his free hand pressed to your neck to bring you closer, the warmth of his hands and lips sending you into overdrive-

And that's when you jolted up out of your sleep in a cold sweat.

"Hello? Earth to y/n?" Vee waved a hand in front of your face to try to gain your attention, "What you thinking about?

"I… I had a dream and it's freaking me out okay? No more questions." you mumbled out of embarrassment.

"About my brother!? That's definitely new…don't tell me if you had sex because that's gross but I'm gonna need details!" she looks at you with a look of curiosity and horror.

"Will you lower your voice? Good god, I'm about five seconds from drowning myself in your pool."

She sighs, "Fine, but just use protection, you'd be a great dad but I don't want to be an aunt yet, I'm already busy enough with Kyungmin." you mirror her look of horror from a minute ago.

"I'm not gonna have sex with him Jesus!" she laughs at your panicked expression before sitting down to dip her feet in the pool.

"You getting in or what? We've been standing around for long enough" she said before throwing herself into the pool, splashing you on the way in. You smile and set your stuff down on a chair before taking your shirt off and following suit.

You and Vee chilled in the pool as more guests arrived and began to fill the water around you with inflatables and games, music filling the air as the sky changed to purple and red hues, the fairy lights hung on the fence twinkling this the reflection of the water. After a while, you could feel your skin getting ready to shrivel in the water so you decided to get out and dry off and get a drink. Compared to earlier the kitchen was now filled with people, the majority you knew but there were still quite a few new faces, maybe Wooyoungs friends? you didn't really care to converse with people who associated with him, so you went straight to the drinks table.

Only to feel a stranger's hands around you, pulling you towards him, "Hey handsome, what are you drinking? I'll get it for you hm?" Great, some drunk asshole has already started making rounds but before you could even reply with a snide comment, Wooyoung had ripped the guy away from you and had a hand clutched onto the guy's shirt.

"Don't fucking touch him you asshole, if you're gonna act like this Minjun ill kick you out right fucking now." Woo hissed at.. minjun? so he must know him then. Minjun put his hands up in defeat and apologised to Wooyoung before walking to the living room. Wooyoung turned back to you looking you up and down with worry. He knew you weren't comfortable with that much physicality, especially with strangers, but it was still weird to see him so outwardly caring about the state you were in. Maybe he was always like this, but you opted to ignore him most of the time so you wouldn't know.

"Y/n you okay, he didn't hurt you right? do you want him out he can leave, I'm sorry I didn't think he'd be weird-" You cut off his rambling, just wanting to leave and put on a shirt to not feel so exposed for the time being.

"Woo, it's fine I'll survive." You were looking around until that moment, finally connecting with his eyes. You noticed that he had a rather surprised reaction, not understanding why until you replayed what you just said in your head.

You never called him Woo, that was only reserved for friends. You never considered yourself to be anything close to a friend to him so you refused to call him it, despite him telling you to the first time you met him. You didn't really want to discuss this with him any more than you already had, so you slid past him to go and grab your shirt.

"Seriously, what the fuck is happening with you two?" Vee laughed at her brother, "He's spoken to you more tonight than he has in the last 10 years and It's kind of freaking me out honestly." Wooyoung stood there still in a state of surprise, acknowledging his sister's words, before returning to his regular composure.

"Oh I'll figure it out, he can't keep a secret from me." He flashed a grin at his sister and sauntered to the living room, grabbing an empty bottle and calling everyone to sit down and play spin the bottle.

You reluctantly sat down in the fairly small circle after San linked arms with you and practically pulled you to it. Surprisingly most of the guests didn't want to play so most of them either sat down to spectate and cheer on the players or moved outside to relax in the warm summer night air.

"Who's going first then?" Seonghwa sighed looking around the circle, praying someone would volunteer so there wouldn't be an extensive game of rock paper scissors.

"One of the hosts should go first, it's courtesy" Yeosang chimed in, looking between Wooyoung and Vee.

"Ooh, I'll go then~" Vee chirped, leaning into the middle and giving the bottle a good spin. The circle of people watched the bottle circle round a few times before landing dead centre between Hongjoong and Mingi.

"That's pointing at me!" Mingi exclaimed to Hongjoong, only for Hongjoong to argue back that it was pointing at him.

Vee laughed at the bickering boys, "I'll kiss you both then, yeah?" She crawled over to where they were and gave them a quick peck each before moving back to her space. You rolled your eyes and laughed at the boys who were abashedly blushing next to you. They span the bottle a few more times before it finally landed on you. At this point the group was teetering on the edge of being buzzed and drunk, you being the former.

"Come on y/n spin it!~" Vee shouted not being able to register her volume now, obviously being the latter the way her cheeks were rosy. You reached over to the bottle and spun it, anticipation making your stomach churn. You watched it spin round and around, feeling as though it was taking hours to slow down. Finally, it came to a halt and your heart stopped, knowing damn well who was sitting in that direction. But as you looked up -

"Yunho! kiss! kiss! kiss!" the circle cheered and gawked at the two of you in excitement. You and Yunho met in the middle before pressing your lips together briefly, moving back to your designated spots. Yunhos cheeks were slightly flushed, mostly from the alcohol, but before you could think about it anymore, your eyes drifted to Wooyoung who was staring right back at you. His eyelids were lowered as he kept his gaze fixed on your lips. what the fuck? You would blame it on him drinking but he had drank less than you at the point, so it was kind of scaring your buzzed brain.

As you watched the bottle spin over and over again, it managed to keep narrowly avoiding you, making your stomach flip time and time again as it passed you. As the circle started to get bored, Vee suggested we amp up the tension by playing truth or dare.

"But if you decide not to do it you have to take a shot, okay?" The group nods in agreement and Vee spins the bottle once more to decide who the first victim is. As the bottle span once the tension rose in your chest, you could already feel who it was going to land on, and sure enough, it came to a halt pointing straight at the man across from you.

"Woo! Truth or dare?" He ponders for a second before deciding on his answer.

"Dare." Wooyoung looks at you before returning his line of sight to his sister. But, before she could answer with a dare, you chimed in first.

"I dare you to back Mingi's cup!" You looked at the growing horror on his face, as Mingi was famous for his awful attempts at being a mixologist, but Woo wasn't ready to lose a dare, even if the counterpart was only taking one shot instead. He wasn't really thinking at that moment since it was you who asked. You watched him stand up and walk over to Mingi, grabbing his cup and staring at it briefly while grimacing before bringing it to his soft lips and chugging it in one go. As he finished the drink he hissed at the taste and shook his head before giving Mingi a stinkeye and walking back to his seat.

"Okay, y/n, truth or dare" Wooyoung studied you, waiting for your answer.

"Uh, truth?" you stammered out trying to think about what Wooyoung would've made you do if you had picked dare, probably make you jump in the pool or-

"What was the last thing you touched yourself over?" what the fuck? the room filled with oohs and giggles while they waited for your answer. How the fuck could you tell them it was a dream about Wooyoung that had pushed you over the edge? you hadn't even told Vee because she still would have likely been horrified despite her interest

"um, a dream." The circle cheered and laughed again at your answer and you could feel your cheeks warming.

"what was it about y/n?" Wooyoung pushed more and the circle seemed to get more excited in anticipation of your reply.

You huffed at Wooyoung, "Not telling you weirdo, plus it's not 21 questions." feeling eyes on you at your small outburst. "I'm gonna get a drink, carry on without me, I'll be back." You smiled, putting on your best poker face before getting up and leaving the room. you could feel Wooyoungs eyes on the back of you as you walked out almost making you stumble. You walked through the kitchen, grabbed a fresh drink filled to the brim and walked out to the pool, slipping your shoes off once again and dipping your feet into the pool. You felt your body cool down in the summer night air as you swayed your legs in the water and sipped on your drink. Why was Wooyoung being so weird today? His gaze was making you feel dizzy, you'd never really felt this way about him so why was a silly dream affecting you so much? You felt as if he was reading your mind all night and it was starting to get to you honestly.

"You want to smoke?" The familiar voice nearly made you fall into the pool, Speak of the fucking devil. You turn your head to see the last person you would want to right now, holding a joint in one hand and a lighter in the other. Despite your need to be as far away as possible from this man right now, you couldn't pass up the one chance at relaxation being offered to you.

"…Sure." You reluctantly answered him. He took a seat way too close for your comfort at this moment, but you tried to shrug the weird feeling in your stomach off. You watched Wooyoung hold the joint between his fingers and light it, bringing it to his lips. He took a hit and handed it to you, smoke cascading out of his mouth while looking into your eyes.

"Your turn," He kept observing you as you took a hit from the joint, feeling it travel down into your lungs and relaxing you instantly. You took one more long puff before handing it back to the boy next to you and laid back to look up at the stars. You and Wooyoung kept passing it back and forth in silence till it was finished, him now laying back with you.

"Why do you hate me so much, y/n?" He said so quietly you barely caught it.

You sighed before formulating a reply, "You used to irritate me a lot when we were younger, you'd pushed my buttons too much and I started to dislike you more and more. Now though? I'm not really sure anymore." You tilted your head to look at Wooyoung only to see he was looking right back at you. He was always looking at you.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to be your friend, but you pushed me away and the only way I knew how to get your attention was to do what I did, and eventually I didn't even realise what I was doing to you, to our relationship." His words felt sincere, and fuck you felt horrible. You knew Wooyoung only acted that way with you and you hadn't even noticed why, not even after ten years of fighting. You kept looking into his eyes, and you could see the sadness in them. Was that always there and you just never noticed?

"I never said thank you for the clothes you gave me when I came out, did I?…thank you."

"I knew you needed them, they were waiting in a stack for the day you would claim them." before you could even realise it, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. Wooyoung hesitantly lifted his palm to your face and wiped the wetness from your face, stroking his finger under your eye and cupping your face with his hand. His soft thumb swiped back and forth, gently caressing your face.

He looked so pretty in the moonlight. The way the light sat on his lashes and defined his jaw made you want to touch. You craved to feel the surface of his skin grazing against your palm right now you could hardly fight it. Instead, you leaned into his chest and rested your head on his collarbone, not daring to look into his eyes right now, not daring to reveal the emotions in the expression that was on your face. He stroked your hair rhythmically and you felt your whole body relaxed into his touch, god was this what you were missing out on all this time?

"Don't fall asleep on me now, my sister will kill me if she sees I let you sleep on the floor," You chuckled into the warmth of his chest before finally sitting up, Wooyoung following you.

"you wanna go for a swim?" You smiled at him, not waiting for an answer, taking your shirt off and sliding into the heated pool. You swam to the middle, hearing a splash behind you, and turned around to see a now wet-haired Wooyoung following suit. You tried to ignore the fact that now he really reminded you of your dream - hair soaked, droplets dripping down his shimmering skin as his smile spread wide at you. You tried to swim away but your battle was quickly lost when you felt a hand grab your ankle and pull you under the water.

Your body flipped underwater, turning around to feel Wooyoung right above you. His hands came to your face and begged you to look in his eyes. You opened them to see his face inches from yours, and how desperate his eyes were to close the short distance between the two of you, and you were only a weak man. You pulled him down by the nape of his neck and joined your lips together and good lord, even underwater, it was still better than you imagined. Wooyoung broke the kiss after a few seconds and brought you back to the surface for air, not giving you long till he dived back in to kiss you once more, his hands begging to feel every inch of your waist and pull you towards him. The way his skin felt against yours felt hot and you needed more of it everywhere so desperately.

"Woo I need you," you whispered, trying to communicate with your eyes and praying he would understand.

"You have me, baby." His body moved you backwards, out of sight from the living room and windows, until your back hit the side of the pool. His mouth made its way to your neck, nipping at the skin before running his tongue over it. "Can I touch you?" He whispered into your ear, biting your earlobe.

You nodded into his shoulder, hungry for the feeling of his fingers in you. His hand slipped passed the waistband of your swim shorts, giving him straight access to you. His fingertip grazed up and down your slit, teasing your aching clit.

"Wooyoung please" You whined into his ear, deciding to take some sort of initiative and fidget with the strings of his shorts, tugging at them till he permitted you to touch.

"You wanna touch me, baby?" He grabbed your hand in his and slipped it into his shorts, letting you get a feel of the bottom of his stomach, hand slowly inching down till you reached the base of his girth. His other hand was still teasing your cunt, finally allowing one digit to slide into your hole. You moaned softly into his shoulder, writhing at the pleasure of feeling him in you, while still beating yourself up from missing out on this for so long.

As you were about to start stroking his cock you heard the back door open. You and Wooyoung shot your heads around to see who it was, quickly separating yourselves to not get caught. You heard the loud music bouncing throughout the house as a hoard of people spread out onto the porch, all ready to go for another swim, Vee carrying another speaker with her to liven up the night.

"What are you guys doing out here?" Vee shouted over the music, looking between the two of you with a shocked expression.

You looked at Wooyoung trying to formulate an answer, but you answered for him instead, "Oh, we were just talking… about stuff…" You watched her face try to decipher what you meant, but she came up short with answers. She could tell that both of you were stoned though, and honestly? She was grateful you were getting along, even if it was just for one night. Wooyoung watched Vee walk away, far enough before he asked you,

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" He pressed his body against you slightly, and you could feel how hard he was against your leg. His eyes were begging for this not to end here, and you didn't feel the need to argue for once in your life, So you dragged him to the ladder and got out first, ready with a towel for him once he got out so he could hide what was going on his shorts. Once he was out he clutched your hand in his own, pulling you through the house and up the stairs to the safety of his room. Before you could even react Wooyoung had you pressed up against the closed door, lips back on the underside of your jaw. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. You had only been in here a handful of times, in which you'd never spent long enough to have a good look around the area. As you examined the room, your eyes zeroed in on the bong on his bedside table.

"You have a bong?" Your voice came out hoarse.

"Yeah, you ever..?" Wooyoung questioned.

You looked at him, "No… Can I?" He smiled at you and brought you over to his bed. The bong was already filled with fresh water, as Wooyoung packed the bowl, grabbed his lighter and held it to the bowl igniting it. He inhaled for a few seconds before pulling the bowl out, inhaling the rest of the smoke. He gave you a smug grin at your amazement and handed the bong over to you.

"So I'm gonna light it for you, and when I pull the bowl out, I'm gonna need you to inhale the rest of it or it'll leave stale smoke in the chamber, okay? now I'll let you do a little hit to get you started, just put your lips on it like I did, baby." His sugarcoated pet names had your stomach doing flips, but you stayed focused on the task at hand. Your lips met the mouthpiece and you waited for wooyoungs signal.

"Okay I'm lighting it, start inhaling gently…" You followed his instructions, feeling the water bubbling and the smoke enter your mouth. "Okay inhale fully," Wooyoung concentrated as he pulled the bowl out, you felt the fresh air clear the bong and go into your mouth. You took your mouth off of the bong and exhaled, feeling a cough climb out of your throat with the smoke - Wooyoungs hand instantly joined you to rub circles on your back, a little laugh coming from him at your suffering. After you laughed with him, "Let me try again, I won't cough this time-" Wooyoung suddenly kissed you quickly, making your body follow him as he pulled away.

"Sorry, I just wanted to kiss you again." He looked…Bashful? You had never seen this on him, and God it made him look hotter, I mean, really how did you not realise any of this? He brought the bong back to your mouth getting ready to light it once more. "You wanna do the same or a bigger hit?"

You tried to think through your already clouded mind, "Big." was all you were able to come out with, too busy staring at his pretty face. You put your lips to the bong and Wooyoung repeated the process, adding an extra second before pulling the bowl out for you. You felt slightly lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, laying back slowly to ground yourself, hearing Woo take a hit above you. As Wooyoung joined your side, Your mind started filling with all the dirty things you wanted to do with him, all the things you could do to make up for wasted time. Woo felt you sit up and throw a leg over his waist so you were straddling him.

"You know what you asked me earlier? About what my dream was about?" You leant down to his face and whispered in the shell of his ear. "It was about you. I was dreaming about you, looking all sexy fresh out of the shower, touching me." You looked at his face, hooded eyes but still surprised at your confession. You ground your hips down on his bulge, feeling his hard-on grow against you once again

"Y/n…" You halted your movements, shit, had you done too much? Before you could worry you felt his hips rise looking for the friction "Oh God please don't stop, y/n." His hands landed on your hips and pulled you back down, moving your hips with his own. He whimpered under you as you rolled your hips along him, thumbs massaging your flesh. His head tilted back and you took your chance to nip at the base of his throat, and began to suck, leaving a blooming mark in its wake. Your mouth needed to be busy, begging to have Woo in it any way you could have him. You left a trail of bites on his collarbone leading up to the underside of his jaw and ears, making him huff with each one.

"Mine," you whispered. He heard you. Your words sent him into overdrive as he sat up and flipped your bodies so you were now under him before he started tugging at your shorts.

"need these stupid things off," He mumbled finally getting them off you, leaving you completely exposed. "Can I eat you out? I really wanna taste you." He patiently waited for your response like a dog waiting for a treat. As soon as you nodded, cheeks blushed, He dived in and started to devour your aching cunt. His tongue was working magic against your hole, nose rubbing your clit deliciously as he moaned into you. You writhed against his mouth, hands gripping his hair to ground you because of the way he took you to cloud nine.

You could already feel the orgasm building as he greedily ate you out. His tongue worked against your clit as he added a digit to your soaked hole, moving it in and out in a steady rhythm, desperate to bring you over the edge before he finally fucked you senseless. He was barely taking breaks to breathe, ready to die if it meant he'd die face buried in your sweet cunt, the way you clenched around his finger was going to make him cum in his shorts at just the feeling. Both of your senses were heightened from the weed and the pleasure was a hundred times stronger than usual, you weren't sure you were gonna last long and Wooyoung could tell. "You gonna come on my fingers, baby?" He said, voice croaky as he added another finger, "Cum on my face pretty boy, I want to feel you on my tongue when you do."

Wooyoungs words sent your body over the edge, and you seized up as you let go, feeling Wooyoung sucking your clit while you rode it out on his fingers. He unlatched his mouth from you, feeling your body calm down, and slid his fingers out of you to see them soaked in your arousal. You watched him with hooded eyes as he licked the traces of you off of his fingers. Fuck, that sight alone could've brought you to an orgasm again.

"Gonna fuck your pretty hole now, baby" You moaned at his tone, pulling him to you so you could taste yourself in his mouth, tongues moving in unison. Once you had a good grip on him, you pulled him back onto the bed and stood up to pull his shorts down. You watch his hard cock spring out from them and licked your lips at the sight. You knew it was big, you could feel it but fuck, the way it glistened from the precum leaking out of his tip, made your desire to taste him grow one hundred times. You leaned down to his tip and gripped the base, before running your tongue across it and sinking down about halfway. He whined feeling your mouth around his hardness, it was heaven but, "I don't wanna cum in your mouth baby, want you on my cock now," He begged you, needing to feel you, to connect you.

You needed him just as badly, so you moved upwards so you could straddle him. You lifted your hips and hovered over his cock, holding it so you could get the angle right before slowly sinking down on him. You felt so full as he entered you, the stretch feeling the best you had ever felt. You knew nothing else would ever feel the way Wooyoung felt in you at that moment, you would never be able to take another cock that would feel as good as he did. His voice cracked as you finally bottomed out on him, staying there until you both adjusted to the feeling.

"Holy fuck, give me a second or I'll bust early" Wooyoung huffed out, his chest sinking and rising quickly as if he had forgotten to breathe, because well, he did. "Fuck baby, you feel so good, your boy cunt is mine, it's mine you're mine oh my god." Wooyoung babbled, his brain completely fried from how you clenched around him.

"You ready for me to move, baby?" You whispered to Wooyoung, receiving a nod from Wooyoung as you started slowly rocking your hips back and forth. The feeling of him reaching deep into you was pure bliss. Wooyoungs hands had a death grip on your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh, making you moan with each movement.

"Fuck Wooyoung, you feel so good, I don't know how long I can last," You could already feel yourself losing control of your sanity, but you weren't about to let this end so quickly. You lifted your hips to slam back down onto his cock, making him moan loudly. You kept this rhythm going and the pleasure was overwhelming, feeling the way he hit your g spot so nicely each time you bounced on him.

"Ah fuck, fuck you feel so fucking amazing holy fuck please don't stop," His praises kept fueling you to sink onto him deeper and deeper with each stroke. You both were losing your sanity together and it was fucking incredible, if Wooyoung was ready to die happy before, he was even more sure now that he was buried so deep in you that he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to leave you and the way you gripped his throbbing member. Your body ached to be filled by Wooyoungs cum, not ready to feel empty once he was done. You craved to feel full like this for as long as you were on this earth, while Wooyoung was by your side.

"Baby I'm not gonna last much longer, where do you want me to cum?" Wooyoung wheezed out between breaths.

"In me, please god please, I need you in me," You begged, speeding your pace up as Wooyoung reached to circle your clit.

"Are you sure?" He said worried.

"It's fine I'm on the pill, please Woo I need it." Wooyoung rocked his hips aggressively as his orgasm built up, yours ready to spill over the edge. His hand sped up on your clit and finally, your orgasm hit you like a truck, ripping a guttural moan from your chest. Wooyoung felt you clenching around him so hard that his own orgasm followed suit, His soul being snatched from him as you kept riding out yours.

Your body turned to jelly as you finished and you flopped down onto Woo's chest, hearing his heart racing against your ear.

"Fuck me." He gasped out, still trying to catch his breath, making you laugh.

"I literally just did Woo." He pinched your side in response, making you laugh more, your arms wrapping around him. You sat there until you had both calmed down, before sliding out of you. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and you whined at the loss as he moved you to the side of him so he could clean up.

"Sorry, baby I gotta clean you, and me up. I'll be two seconds." You watched him walk to his bathroom, damn he's got a nice ass, you thought to yourself, waiting for him to come back. Sure enough, he was quick, and back with a washcloth to clean you up. He was careful as he wiped you down, knowing you'd still be sensitive after two orgasms. He handed you some of his clothes to put on and excused himself to get the two of you some water.

"Where have you been? and where's y/n? I can't find him," Vee questioned Wooyoung as he reached the bottom of the stairs, noticing he had changed into sleep clothes despite the party still going.

"Don't tell me…" Vee thought about the circumstance, and the guilty look on Wooyoung's face.

"Did you fuck my best friend??" She watched the corners of Wooyoung's mouth curl up, and she knew she already had the answer.

"Sorry?" Wooyoung said very unapologetically as Vee punched him in the arm.

"If you ever hurt him I'll kill you, I do not care if you're my twin. I still have kyungmin, you hear me?" Vee said dead seriously, slightly scaring Wooyoung, but he couldn't help but make fun.

"I solemnly swear to never hurt y/n as long as I live, Seargent!" vee punched him one more getting ready to send a very long message to y/n.

Wooyoung arrived back upstairs, two bottles of water in his arms and a few munchies in the other.

"Oh you're a godsend Wooyoung- never thought I'd say that…" You laughed with Wooyoung as he plopped down next to you in bed, putting a movie on and cuddling up to you.

"Sorry, it took so long for us to be friends, Wooyoung. Woo." You sighed, avoiding eye contact with him now, guilt still eating away at you after everything.

"I don't want to be friends." Wooyoung declared, waiting for you to look at him. You shot your head around, confused and concerned.

"What? What do you mean?"

Wooyoung smiled before answering, " I've loved you too long just to be friends, y/n." Tears filled your eyes as you wrapped yourself around him, needing his warmth. "I love you y/n."

"Love you too."

AHHHH tysm if you made it to the end I hope you enjoyed!!! <33333333 thank you again for 500 followers !!!❤️

[anonymous-dentist]

A VERY quick c!Roier/f!Cell oneshot because I can't stop thinking about them

-

Roier’s day starts normally:

Wake up, check Sally’s crib, make sure Sally’s favorite toys are ready and waiting for when he comes home. Shower, brush teeth, floss. Wash face, eat breakfast, rearrange the fridge so he doesn’t have to reach past Natalan’s heart every time he wants to get the eggs out. Do dishes, check Sally’s crib, make the bed. Check Sally’s crib. Turn on the news, apply eyeliner as he listens to it. 

“-If you see this individual, please do not hesitate to reach out to the authorities. He is armed and dangerous. He has been described by the authorities as-”

Check Sally’s crib. Search the apartment for Sally, maybe he’s hiding. He likes to play, he’s such a playful child!! He gets it from Natalan, the little shit. 

“-Has been found guilty of ten counts of homicide, though he is currently under investigation for at least thirty more committed between the years of 2013 and 2015. I must repeat, if you see this man, notify the police immediately-”

Connect headphones to cell phone, get dressed. Lock the windows and the doors to the balcony to make sure Sally doesn’t escape and fall to his death. Go to work.

Normal day, normal life, ugh. 

The news keeps playing as Roier leaves his apartment and locks the door behind him. He tunes it out for the most part; it’s just there to keep him from thinking too much, because Natalan says that he’s annoying when he thinks too much, and Roier doesn’t want to be annoying. He wants to be married, and he won’t get that by pissing his husband off. 

“-Brown hair, blue eyes, and a muscular build-”

Roier stops at a crosswalk with a group of other people, waiting for the light to turn. It’s a bit of a walk to his bus stop, but he doesn’t usually mind it. It’s good to stay active; it’ll come in handy when Sally tries making a run for it the next time they go to the park. 

Natalan doesn’t have a job, the lazy piece of shit, so it’s up to Roier to make enough money to keep the family afloat. And it sucks, okay? Because Roier hates working. He’d much rather stay at home and take care of the kids and cook dinner for Natalan and shove it down his throat when he refuses to eat it because, oh, apparently Roier can’t cook! Apparently, Roier is useless! 

Yeah, well, maybe Natalan is the useless one. He might be handsome and strong and sexy and intelligent and… stuff… but he could at least clean the apartment every once in a while. Roier is starting to get just a little sick of coming home from work to a dirty apartment; it’s no condition to raise a child in!

The light turns, and Roier and the others cross the street. He keeps to the back of the pack and takes out his phone to switch from the news to Spotify (Natalan’s account, of course!)

He keeps his head down as he walks, mostly because he can’t stand the sight of anybody in this goddamn city. They’re all ugly. They stare at him and judge him for being a single mother and a recovering addict and they’re all assholes and Roier would just love to introduce them all to his beautiful bastard of a husband. 

Roier passes an alley. He doesn’t look up from his phone as he tries to pick out a song to listen to. He hates every song on every playlist Natalan has, but he can’t exactly change any of them, can he? He can’t risk Natalan getting angry and trying to leave again. 

He doesn’t hear the voice calling out to him. Not above the rush of the city and the beating of his own heart and the screams echoing memories in his mind. 

But he does notice the hand grabbing him around the upper arm and yanking him into the alley. 

More importantly, he notices a pair of stunning blue eyes, and his heart stops in his chest, and he smiles.

“Hello,” Roier breathes. He pulls his headphones down and rests them around his neck. “You look lost.”

The man in front of him is tall, okay, but he’s also gorgeous. Glittering eyes, scars across his face, fluffy-looking hair. He smells of rust and gore, but Roier doesn’t mind. Nobody’s perfect. 

He’s staring at Roier, wide-eyed and curious, and Roier can imagine he feels much the same as Roier does at the moment. In one word, entranced. In two, in love.

Roier clears his throat, very conscious of the hand still wrapped around his bicep. But the man’s grip only tightens, quickly growing tight enough to pinch like the blood pressure cuff at the doctor’s office. 

Oh, Roier thinks, he’s strong.

“Do you have a car?” the man asks. His Spanish is accented, but his voice is just ouagh. Deep and raspy and commanding enough for a pit to grow in Roier’s stomach. 

Roier shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to drive. Too many accidents.”

Somehow, the grip on his arm grows even tighter- oh, God, does it make his knees go weak. 

“But do you have a car?” the man growls, leaning in real close. His teeth bare into something approximating a smile, or maybe a sneer; oh, they’re pointy, that’s fascinating. 

Roier hesitates before answering, “It’s my friend’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow it.”

Natalan won’t mind, that’s for sure. He doesn’t use it anymore, anyway, the lazy piece of shit. All he ever does is lay on the couch and insult Roier and their children, and so, really, it’s only fair that Roier borrows his car. 

It’s not like Natalan is using it at the moment, anyway. 

The man nods- a simple quick jerk of the head- and drops Roier’s arm just like that. 

(Just. Like. That.)

Roier’s arm burns from the sudden cold, but he manages a fresh smile, anyway. He’s prettier when he smiles, he thinks. 

“Come on, I live back that way,” he says, pointing to the side with his thumb towards his apartment building. “I mean, I have work in a couple minutes, but they won’t mind me being late.”

“Nah, you won’t be late,” the man assures him. “I’ll be quick.”

Roier wants him to grab his arm again. Roier wants him to touch him again. 

“Okay,” Roier agrees. 

He’s sure that Sally won’t mind another road trip.

-

A/N:

Hi!! Thanks for reading, and let me know if you got this far by leaving a comment or a reblog! And let me know if you want more, I wouldn't mind doing more of this au I think