#i think he should be allowed to swear more than saying the occasional ass

[fredware]

he just WONT LEAVE ME ALONE.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty one

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

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august 29, 2018 uncasville, connecticut calum 

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something strange about being away from Orion for this long. It’s almost been a month, and we still talk almost every day. I know I can’t expect for things to feel all that normal. I left her alone in LA. She has a life there. I’m busy, touring with the band.

I think days like today are when I feel it the most. We’re in a random ass city in New England. We have a show tonight, but today we aren’t doing press, and there’s not exactly a lot to do in Connecticut. It’s just another day with the boys, whom I love dearly, but don’t exactly have a lot of fresh topics to talk to them about. 

At least it felt okay to sleep in this morning. A lot of days it feels like a waste of being in a cool city or a waste of being close to family to sleep in, but in Uncasville, Connecticut, sleeping until 11 feels like an appropriate start to the day. 

I wake up to a few texts from Orion, which is unsurprising but always good to see. 

From: my love + stars good morning hi hello i couldn’t sleep last night i am zombie today running on hella coffee i think duke misses you he keeps going into your studio and pacing around it’s so sad do you think he can come to the venue in san diego? omg i can get him a little shirt that says “i <3 5sos” can you imagine if i do that you have to post it to your story so the fans can see they would die hope you have so much fun in the fantastic town of uncasville today!!!!

To: my love + stars it’s always a good morning when i can hear from you! very good morning to you my very beautiful girlfriend my favorite zombie you can eat my brains if you want send me duke pics rn i miss him too please bring him!!!! i’m pretty sure dogs are allowed. i will riot if not. yknow you could post it yourself. just make your profile public ya silly goose. the fans love you now.

From: my love + stars cal if you ever don’t hear from me in the morning you need to call the cops i will always say hi asap i will eat your brains first look how cute dukey is!!!!!!! Images attached (3) they occasionally tOleRaTE me NOW. the tables could turn at any time.

To: my love + stars i will never call the cops on you you can do no wrong even if you eat my brains don’t tell duke’s mom but i think i miss my son more than i miss his mom (I AM KIDDING I PROMISE) literally the only reason the tables would turn is if you were a shitty person and you’re the best person i know so you’re good of course only go public if you want but just sayin the world would be a better place if everyone could see your beautiful sunset selfies

From: my love + stars somebody call 911 shawty’s lying to me on the dance flo it’s ok if you miss duke more than me i am not offended i swear you know i won’t go public i just don’t need that chaos in my life i love quietly lurking on stan twitter from my burner account

To: my love + stars i am not lying i miss you more than i have ever missed anyone duke is close second dw it could be a rush to go public for a day and then go back private see what happens

From: my love + stars stop you’re gonna make me cry in the club rn it would be not fun cal you know this i’d get a bunch of DIE BITCH I COULD TAKE UR MAN IF I WANT TO YOU’RE SO UGLY and maybe a sprinkle of wow you’re kinda cool sometimes

I’m not sure how long it’s been that Orion and I are just sitting here texting each other back and forth until Ashton is giggling across the room at me.

“What are you making all those faces for, Cal?” He asks.

I flip him off. “Just texting Orion.”

“Oooh, what are you guys talking about?” Luke walks in the room, a banana in hand and Sierra trailing behind him carrying a Starbucks cup. 

I roll my eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just telling her she should make her Instagram public, and she thinks it’d just open up a door for death threats.”

��The fans like her now, don’t they?” Luke asks. He plops down on the couch next to me, and Sierra sits on his right side. He looks around the room at all of us, searching for confirmation.

“She always gets love when I post a picture with her in it,” Ashton confirms. 

It’s no secret that I’m not exactly an active user on any social media, so even though I have millions of photos of me and Orion, I don’t share them much. That’s both due to my personal social media habits and Orion’s wishes to keep her presence on my social media to a minimum. It’s kind of like her rule for flowers — only for special occasions. 

Ashton, on the other hand, posts a few photos at a time to his story and feed pretty regularly, and more often than not, if there’s a group picture, Orion is in it. He’s also the only one that really hangs out with Orion on her own regularly, so naturally they have more photos of the two of them. That said, if she’s only getting positive comments on Ashton’s posts, I’m sure she’d get positive reactions if she shared her own.

“I’m not saying she should or shouldn’t,” Sierra starts. “But I definitely get why she doesn’t want a public profile.”

“I mean, to be fair, a lot of what she posts is of you guys,” Luke adds. He’s not wrong. Because her profile is private and she can pick and choose who follows her, she feels fine to post whatever she wants, and that means posting a lot of pictures with me, of me, and of Duke. “She definitely wouldn’t want to do that if she went public.”

I sigh, knowing that Sierra and Luke are probably right, and Orion is too, even if she’s not completely accurate with what would actually happen if she made her profile public. I decide to drop it. 

“Where’s that Starbucks at?” I decide to ask, changing the subject. I nod at Sierra’s coffee cup in her hand. 

With the address in hand, I head off to find someone to drive me to the Starbucks and go back to texting Orion. 

To: my love + stars it’s pretty early to be in the club but still don’t cry just a little over a month. we’ve got this!! only go public if you want. i support you regardless and happy to be bad cop and defend you in your comments if you needed

From: my love + stars a 2018 shakespearean level romance defending me in an IG comment section i’m a lucky girl

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a/n: fillery chapter ik. but still plantin a seed for something later on. i posted this poll but also feel free to drop a comment on your wishes on this post too pls n thx.

[steakout-05]

ok i wanna say something real quick. i feel like the way Barry Steakfries is written in his more newer appearances is lacking a lot of the edge he used to have in the older games. like, i'm not saying his newer appearances are bad or anything. not at all! i love every bit of new stuff we get of him! i just feel like him being a hero doesn't really fit him and he's not really as mean as he used to be. i personally love the idea of him being less of an action hero who wants to save the day out of the good of his heart and more out of stroking his own ego because that's an interesting flaw he could have. i feel like in JJ2 he's too good-natured and kinda washed down a bit, you know? chronologically, JJ2 feels a little too early for Barry to be acting as a hero, but it'd be a perfect time for him to be kind of a jerk. i of course don't want him to be like yelling slurs at scientists or anything, but i feel like it'd be better progression to have him be more heroic around the time AOZ takes place and more of an ass around JJ and MD. at this point, Barry's still just some guy with a jetpack. he doesn't really have that "action hero" status like he does in AOZ. Red Photon even points this out in the Robo-Barry short. i think it'd be fine to have him be some Australian guy who's a real jerk sometimes! and i want this to go beyond just simple teasing, i want him to insult people. i want him to really chew them out and give them a piece of his mind, y'know, as a treat. i want him to actively endorse crimes and theft more. i want him to be kind of a bully to the scientists. or maybe have a bit more balance between his nicer side and his asshole side. i feel like he treats everyone a little too nice now and i'd like some more meanness.

and like,, i know Halfbrick's games are more casual and appropriate for all ages, but i'd love to see a Barry who still swears occasionally. even if it's censored. like, in the original AOZ, he's a gruff and tough Australian guy with a shotgun and a lit cigarette, he's definitely the type of guy to say fuck and shit and ass. i found that edge he had to be pretty entertaining and made him feel more like an adult than he does now. i mean, the third word he's ever said was literally "shit", and it was when he was insulting Professor Brains in the original AOZ. he's a 30 year old man with beard scruff and a jetpack, he should be allowed to say shitballs every now and then, lol.

[courtonfire]

I can see you with me

Short Wangxian fic - Optometrist Wei Wuxian, patient Lan Wangji meet-cute!

‘Oh no,’ Wei Wuxian thinks as he walks his last patient of the day to the door. No, no, no. Absolutely no way is he letting this happen.

He calls a half-hearted farewell to his patient and races to the check-out counter with the speed of a man attempting to stop a horrible tragedy – because he is.

Right there, in the middle of his own clinic, the most beautiful man in the entire, literal world is about to buy the most hideous glasses any incompetent, fashionably challenged manufacturer has ever dared to create.

It all happens like a dramatic slo-mo scene from an action movie. As he approaches the counter, arm outstretched, the patient and his optician, Nie Huaisang, turn to him with wide eyes. He thinks he hears Nie Huaisang call his name in alarm, but it barely registers through the haze of desperation.

“No!” He cries and finally, finally reaches the counter. In one fell swoop, he snatches the patient’s credit card and glasses in his hand and steps back out of reach.

“I cannot let this transaction happen, not in my store.”

From the corner of his eye, he swears he sees Nie Haisang heave a sigh of relief, but when he checks, the man looks as anxious and confused as he always does. The patient, a serious, professional-looking man, glares at him.

“Please return my card and glasses,” he requests, an edge to his voice. Wei Wuxian eyes him wearily. With the glasses out of the way, he supposes it should be safe to return the card. Carefully, he extends the card (a black card, the former broke-ass college student in him notes) out to the man, keeping the glasses hidden behind his back.

The man takes it. When it becomes clear Wei Wuxian is not planning to give him the glasses, he raises a brow.

“The glasses as well. Please. I will not ask again.”

"Gege," Wei Wuxian drawls. "You can do much better than these clunky things! Come on, let's go try on some other frames."

He walks towards the display but stops when the man doesn't follow.

"Those frames are fine,” he clips. “Now, return them so I can be checked out."

Wei Wuxian scoffs indignantly. "Gege, if I let you buy these, that's the only kind of checking out you'll be receiving for a while."

The man's impassive expression doesn't shift, but Wei Wuxian clocks a subtle eye twitch with no small amount of amusement. Pretty, mean, and fun to tease. Crazy how a man with so little taste can somehow still check all of his boxes.

"I am not buying glasses for appearance's sake, I am buying them to see," he bites out. "Those frames are sturdy and comfortable for the occasional times I will use them. I do not care how they look."

Wei Wuxian eyes him, taking in the crisp, light blue button-up and dark grey slacks. Both are well-fitted and entirely uncreased, despite it being late afternoon. When he shifts, his sleeve moves up just enough for Wei Wuxian to catch a glance of a very expensive-looking watch.

Wei Wuxian quirks a brow. The man clears his throat and quickly tugs the offending sleeve down.

"That outfit altogether must cost no less than $500 and you're trying to tell me you don't care about appearances?"

The man glares at him. "My clothes are professional," he says with a pointed look at Wei Wuxians own work clothes – a comfy red button-up and black ripped skinny jeans.

Wei Wuxian laughs loudly at the blatant jab. "That they are," he allows. "But, won't these glasses ruin the whole wealthy businessman-possibly-a-sugar-daddy vibe you got going on?"

The man's eyes narrow. The stony glare from before shifts into something more murderous.

"Ridiculous."

Wei Wuxian swallows down a delighted noise. Teasing him is turning out to be the most fun he's had all week.

He tries (and mostly fails, going off the guy’s unimpressed expression) to mold his face into something resembling concern and holds up the frames in question. The frames are a hideous shade of brown and bulky with round lenses.

"These look like they're made for a 13-year-old going through their 'I’m so different and quirky' phase because they saw it in a movie, not a handsome professional like yourself."

The man storms over, snatches the frame from his hand, and slams them back on the counter by Nie Huaisang

"I would like these," he snaps. Wei Wuxian groans loudly.

"Okay, gege -"

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, not-gege, let's make a deal. I'll pick out five frames and if you don't like any of them, you can buy those."

"I can buy these now," he points out with a sniff. Wei Wuxian gives him a look.

"I know you can, but please at least look at other options before you buy the most atrocious pair we sell."

The man straightens. "How do you know I didn't look at other pairs before?"

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and leans back, unimpressed. "Did you?"

He looks away. Wei Wuxian glances at Nie Huaisang, who subtly shakes his head. Wei Wuxian smirks and looks back at the man.

"I didn't think so. I bet you just grabbed the first sturdy looking pair you saw and called it good, didn't you, not-gege?"

"There is nothing wrong with wanting to choose a sturdy pair," he answers, still not looking at him.

"Of course not," he soothes. "But, the technology is pretty great these days. We have several options that look flimsy, but are just as strong as the ones you picked.”

The man throws him a suspicious look, then turns to Nie Huaisang. "Is that true?"

Nie Huaisang nods frantically. "Yes, yes, Dr. Wei is correct."

He faces Wei Wuxian again, who lifts a hand as though to say 'see?'.

"How about it then, not-gege? Will you give me a chance to blow your mind?"

The man scoffs, but moves to sit at the fitting table. "You may present five pairs. If I do not like them, then I will buy the original ones."

Wei Wuxian grins brightly. "You're on," he agrees, then sets off to work.

He flits about their display cases, looking closely at each pair. When he finds one he likes, he has Nie Huaisang pull up their information sheet to check their ratings in strength, comfort, flexibility and long term fit. He puts back the ones that don't line up with the man's - Lan Wangji is his name, he has recently learned - preferences.

It takes several minutes, but eventually he ends up with five pairs he thinks will work. He lines them up on the table in front of Lan Wangji and carefully presents the ratings for each pair. Lan Wangji, suddenly picky despite his terrible first choice, immediately axes two of the pairs based on color and shape. Wei Wuxian allows it without comment, though he's admittedly irked he didn't even try them on.

"Not-gege," he interrupts when Lan Wangji begins to speak unfavorably of another pair without trying them. "You agreed to give me a proper chance. At least test them before throwing them out!"

Lan Wangji studies him for a second, then exhales in a way that Wei Wuxian assumes is a heavy sigh for him, though its barely heavier than a typical breath. Wordlessly, he slides on the pair he was about to reject and faces Wei Wuxian.

"Happy?"

Wei Wuxian fumbles for words. He is, at a minimum, very happy, edging closer to completely stunned.

Despite Lan Wangji not liking the color, it looks fantastic on him. Wei Wuxian knew it would – that's why he picked them – but it's a whole different feeling to see him actually wearing them.

The gold of the frames perfectly matches his skin tone and brings out the gorgeous golden flecks in his brown eyes. Wei Wuxian feels himself getting lost as he stares. It takes significant effort to tear his gaze away and check the overall appearance and fit of the glasses on Lan Wangji.

The thin, lightweight, square frames highlight his sharp cheekbones and his even sharper jawline. They do a lot to enhance both Lan Wangji's professional and naturally gorgeous appearance.

If he was a 10 before, he's at least a 100 now. "Dr. Wei?" Lan Wangji questions when the silence stretches.

"I - um," his voice comes out embarrassingly hoarse. He clears his throat and continues. "Yes. Those look very nice on you, Lan Wangji."

Lan Wangji blinks in surprise. Wei Wuxian kicks himself under the table. Could he be more obvious? It's not like him to get this flustered, especially with one of their patients of all people. Hot guy or not, Wei Wuxian needs to pull himself together before he lands himself a harassment suit.

"I think gold is definitely the way to go," he declares, tone thankfully level. He gives hands Lan Wangji a small mirror. "What do you think?"

Lan Wangji studies himself. With some reluctance, he nods. "Mn. Gold is good."

Wei Wuxian cries in victory. "Ah ha! I knew I could pick something you'd like!"

"It's not over yet, I still have not picked a pair," Lan Wangji snaps, but his heart isn't in it. When he looks away, Wei Wuxian notices the tips of his ears have turned an adorable shade of red. He bites back a smile, a pushes another pair towards him, also gold wire frames, but a touch shinier with boxy-round lenses.

"These are similar, why don't you try them next?"

Lan Wangji sets aside the previous pair (in a different spot than the rejects, Wei Wuxian notes gleefully) and puts on the offered one. For all his efforts at being professional, Wei Wuxian can't help the little gasp that escapes when he looks at him.

"What do you think?" He asks, as though he hasn't just changed Wei Wuxian's entire definition of beauty.

"I think you better get those and hope I never see you wearing them outside the clinic or else I'll have no choice but to ask you out to dinner."

The words slip out before he can stop them. He immediately wants to bang his head on the table. Lan Wangji's mouth opens and closes again, at a loss for words.

"I see," he lands on. The blush on the tip of his ears crawls onto his cheeks and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. Wei Wuxian bites down a groan. He's clearly made Lan Wangji uncomfortable. He isn't sure if the fluttering in his ears is his heart, tinnitus or the sound of his job flying out the door.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but Lan Wangji speaks first.

"I will get these, then." Wei Wuxian reels back. "You will? But you haven't even seen how they look!"

Lan Wangji picks up the mirror, quickly looks, then puts it back down. "I will get these," he repeats, then turns to where Nie Huaisang has been watching the whole ordeal from behind the desk. "I believe they need to be fitted now?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Nie Huaisang hops up and rushes over to shoo Wei Wuxian out of his seat.

Wei Wuxian watches in a confused daze as Nie Huaisang fits the glasses, discusses an add ons, like a blue light filter, and charges Lan Wangji for everything.

"They'll be here next week," Nie Huaisang finishes and hands back Lan Wangji’s card.

Lan Wangji nods and turns to Wei Wuxian. "Thank you for your assistance today," he says. "You have proven to be very helpful."

Wei Wuxian might be – definitely is – losing his mind, but he swears Lan Wangji checks him out before he walks out the door to the parking lot. Wei Wuxian balks at Nie Huaisang. "Did he just - ? What even happened?"

Nie Huaisang waves his hands wildly. "I don't know, Dr. Wei, I really don't know."

"Huh," Wei Wuxian says and rests his hands on his hips.

He thinks about the encounter the rest of the week. It drives him a little crazy, if he's being honest. Usually, he's able to brush off encounters with pretty people that are obviously not interested in him - but that's the thing.

Was Lan Wangji really not interested in him? It certainly seemed that way in the beginning, but then Wei Wuxian had shoved his foot in his mouth and Lan Wangji had... bought the glasses. The ones he said made him want to take Lan Wangji on a date. Then there was whatever look Lan Wangji gave him before leaving. He is almost certain Lan Wangji was checking him out – but was it like an 'I think you're sexy' or an 'I could take you in a fight' kind of check-out?

By the time Lan Wangji's glasses arrive, Wei Wuxian is barely holding himself back from violating several HIPPA laws to get Lan Wangji's number and demand he lay his intentions out clearly to spare his poor heart.

As luck would have it though, he's stuck in an appointment when Lan Wangji stops by and misses him entirely.

He groans and drops his head on the desk when Nie Huaisang tells him. Nie Huaisang pats him on the back.

"There, there, Wei-xiong,” he soothes. “He did ask about you, so maybe he'll come back?"

Wei Wuxian's head shoots up, narrowly missing bumping heads with him. "He did? What did he say?"

Nie Huaisang flutters a hand. "Oh I don't remember exactly."

Wei Wuxian glares at him. "Oh you don't? I thought you said he left less than 15 minutes ago. Maybe you should get your head checked out."

"Ah ah ah, Wei-xiong," Nie Huaisang waves a finger. "There's no need for all that, I have a perfectly respectable doctor right here who knows exactly what medicine I need to cure my bad memory." He wiggles his brows.

Wei Wuxian sighs.  He will absolutely regret this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "Fine, I'll pay for drinks Saturday night."

Nie Huaisang raises a brow. Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. "And next Saturday."

Nie Huaisang' face lights up. "Oh! I suddenly seem to recall now!"

Wei Wuxian throws him an unimpressed look. "It’s a miracle,” he deadpans. “What was it?"

"He asked if you’re here and what time you get off," Nie Huaisang answers with a grin.

Wei Wuxian's brows furrow. "What time I get off? Why would he want to know that?"

Nie Huaisang shrugs and lifts his arms in surrender. "Now that, I really don't know. I told him you work until closing, he thanked me, then took the glasses and left."

Wei Wuxian hums thoughtfully. He can think of a few reasons Lan Wangji might want to meet him after work, but then again, the man is too much a wild card for him to be certain about any of them.

Though confused, he also can't help but feel excited at the mystery. Lan Wangji may have seemed boring, but he sure is keeping him on his toes.

He checks the clock, crying internally when he sees there's still around 3 hours before he's off.

The door chimes, signaling the arrival of his next patient. With one last longing sigh, he heads off to prep the exam room while Nie Huaisang checks them in.

It's a relatively busy day, thankfully. All his patients pepper him with obscure questions that require his full attention to properly answer. In what feels like no time, he's packing up his things and rushing out the door, excited to see what's waiting for him.

Though he expected it, he's still shocked to see Lan Wangji, standing there, wearing his glasses and looking even more incredible than Wei Wuxian remembers - which should be impossible, but somehow he's managed it.

He stops just a couple feet away, heart pounding. The door falls shut with a soft thud behind him. The world is silent as they stare at one another.

Wei Wuxian reaches for something to say, but words evade him. Thankfully, Lan Wangji has it covered.

“Oh no,” he intones. “You saw me wearing these glasses outside the clinic.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. The ADHD squirrels in his brain scramble for an explanation of what the hell Lan Wangji is talking about. Finally, one finds the answer. Wei Wuxian chortles.

"I guess I have no choice but to take you to dinner then, huh?" Lan Wangji nods remorsefully and steps closer. "Unfortunately, it seems there is no other option."

Wei Wuxian meets him halfway, not stopping until their toes are scant inches apart and he can see every fleck of gold in those enchanting eyes.

"Well, I did warn you," he reminds with a grin. Lan Wangji grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.

"Mn. I was careless."

Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand. "I don't mind. After all, you're the one being punished here."

Lan Wangji smiles softly. "Preferably with vegan food."

Wei Wuxian laughs and tugs him in the direction of his car.

"Vegan food it is, gorgeous."

The end!

They go on an excellent date at a trendy vegan restaurant and Lan Wangji can actually read the menu bc of his new glasses 🥰

I hope you all enjoyed reading! 💗

[letarasstuff]

Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

[chuckbass-love]

hii! I have a request for prompt 71 with Andy or ransom ☺️

Hey lovely, thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post this and i really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, rough sex, ass spanking, vagina spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, daddy kink, breeding kink and angst.

Word Count: 3,486

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sergeantbuckybarnes go check them out💜

In The Mirror

Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, you start to fold the freshly washed clothes before putting them away neatly in the closet. You start off by putting shirts away, Andy’s and then yours before moving on to jeans. Sometimes you wonder how he even has the room for his own clothes since you take up the majority of the space. But you just put that down to shopping trips he's so insistent on treating you to.

As you’re just finishing up, you hear the front door open before it slams shut so hard that the anger fuelling the slam of it can be felt even upstairs where you are.

Looks like Andy is finally home...

You decide to finish up with what you’re currently doing, taking your time before approaching your husband with caution. It was probably another run in with Neil, something you’ve grown accustom to dealing with ever since you met him. Doesn’t mean you don’t run out of ways to handle it occasionally though, your best option is to just allow him to vent before you distract him. Usually distracting him requires an old movie and takeout but other times it requires rough and needy sex.

“Andy” you call out as you pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to find him practically chugging a beer way to quickly. It must be bad if he couldn’t even wait until dinner to drink alcohol.

“You know sometimes i think why do i even bother going to work. I mean, Lynn sure seems to enjoy screwing me over for that fucking prick Neil and i’ve had just about enough of it”

Okay, now he’s really angry. You have no idea what to do or even what to say to him, you’re rendered speechless by his cursing and boiling temper.

“I was just about to make dinner, uh, lasagne perhaps. Or maybe we could order takeout again and rent that movie you were telling me about. It’s up to y-“

“Did you not listen to a goddam word i said? I don’t give a shit about dinner, do whatever. I’m going to take a shower” his decibels rise, his tone scolding as he storms past you and up the stairs taking two at a time until he reaches the top. You hear his heavy footsteps stomping to the bedroom and then suddenly it all turns quiet until the shower water starts to run.

Rather than leaving him to cool off, you decide to head up to check on him.

In a way, he was right. You practically ignored his annoyed state and changed the subject, in fact you couldn’t have changed it fast enough. But that’s only because you didn’t know what to say. When he gets like that, there’s not a lot you can say.

“Andy, i’m sorry” you squeak, stepping into the master bedroom to find him stood with his back to you as he removes his dress shirt and tie. His back muscles tense as he stands still for a second before turning around and tossing his clothes to the floor before starting on his belt.

“Andy” you mumble, desperate for him to acknowledge you.

“What?” he snaps, slipping out of all clothes until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit, his impressive size dangling between his legs.

“I’m sor-“

“I heard you”

You gently step closer to him, examining his face for any tell tale signs of discomfort before you rest your hand on his right forearm, “please, just talk to me. What happened today?”

“Like you care, all you seemed to give a shit about was dinner, so how about you go focus on that like a good little house wife and leave me to deal with the tough shit... does that sound like a deal?”

“That’s not fair, Andy. I didn’t know what to say to you, that’s all. You’ve had that many run ins with Neil lately that i lose sight of how to help you. But i’m here now, just talk to me. Tell me what i can do to make it better”

Silence.

His hand pulls from your touch, but before you can even understand what’s going on you’re back is already touching his toned tatted chest. His arms rest on your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

“Well, there is one thing...” he starts, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, freeing up some skin for him to feast on. His mouth nears closer, his hot breath fanning you torturously as his nose nudges at you. That’s when you feel his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt teasingly, slowly lifting it up your torso with ease. You lift your arms in the air, allowing him to remove it before he discards it behind him without a care.

“Such a beautiful body, honey. Be a shame to waste it fretting away about dinner in that kitchen” you gulp in response, feeling his lips barely grazing the nape of your neck, the action causes a shiver to dance down your spine as his beard scratches you.

“Andy” your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper as you turn to face him, his hands instantly rest on your waist at the band of your booty shorts. Of course when he tugs at them, you know what he’s after now and you also know that no matter what you do or say, he’ll take it regardless.

He drops down to his knees, surrendering to your body and dragging your shorts down your legs as he sinks to the floor. You step out of them for him, even going as far as to kick them to one side before he pushes you back to the wall.

The palm of his hand gives your calf a soft squeeze as the other lifts your leg up to drape over his shoulder, your aching sex on show for his lustful orbs to focus on. The insatiable hunger is starting to drown out his mind, body and soul, he’s incapable of thinking of anything else but you, craving anything else but you.

He’s starving, desperate to taste you.

A couple more minutes pass with him peppering kisses along your ankle at first before moving up to your calf and then your thigh. You try to push him away due to the sensitivity there but he only forces you off him, he’s so much stronger than you could ever be and you know now that you’ve lost.

He presses another chaste kiss to your bundle of nerves before pausing and feeling your body react to his touch. Your shaking body begs to be worshipped and devoured whilst he begs to drink and breathe you in like you’re his only lifeline.

“Smell so good” he coos, poking his tongue out to give your clit a kitten lick as his nose nudges at your mound, the action causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Whatever you did to deserve this agonising torture, you will make sure to never do it again. This is teasing at its peak.

“Please, Andy. I need you”

“Oh you’ll have me, alright” his response is quick yet snappy as he dives into you. His mouth latches onto your sex aggressively, sucking, slurping and biting. His beard scratching your inner thighs and it's sure to leave a burn there.

The tip of his tongue points all the more as he winds it around your clit rapidly and even with one hand gripping your hips roughly whilst the other strokes your leg up and down before settling on your ass, you still feel unsteady as if the smallest wave of pleasure could knock you to the floor.

His mouth right where you want him comes and goes as he takes breaks in between to come up for air, but right when you feel yourself getting lost in the feeling, it comes to a complete halt.

You glance down at him, eyelids heavy, chest rising and falling, only to find him rising to his feet.

“What the hell, Andy?” you ask, your entire body heating up.

“You sound angry” he cocks his head to the side as he grazes his hand across your hardened nipple.

“I am”

“Now, that’s exactly how i felt when i came home. Yet instead of comforting me like a good little wife should do, you made me feel worse. So therefore, you don’t deserve to cum”

What the hell is wrong with him tonight?

He shoots you a wink before padding into the bathroom, the shower water still running and steaming up all of the mirrors in your eye-line until he closes the door, locking it to prevent you from entering and leaving you standing there perplexed at his actions.

He did all of that on purpose. He built you up to the edge of ecstasy before leaving you to come crashing down all alone, all in the name of proving a point.

You reach for your robe off the hook on the bedroom door before storming out, brimming with frustration as you make a start on the dinner. Lasagne will do for tonight.

You prep it as fast as you can whilst the oven preheats to the correct temperature before putting it in and setting the timer. Now you can relax.

As soon as you throw yourself down onto the couch and flick the tv on, you hear the bathroom door open. You’re almost certain that he expected you to wait for him like a lost puppy dog but you refuse to play into his petty games of revenge. All because you didn’t comfort him. It was silly and unnecessary.

So for now, you’ll indulge in some reality television whilst you wait for dinner to cook and if there’s one thing that’s for certain, it’s that you are most definitely not putting out for him tonight. No matter what he says or how much he sweet talks you. It’s not good enough for him to treat you like that.

Whatever Neil did or said, that’s a work problem.

Andy can’t believe his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom only to find it empty. He wraps his white towel around his waist, covering up his modesty before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom of them, he spots you watching tv in the lounge, giggling away at whatever The Kardashian family are doing now, but whatever it is, he doesn’t care.

Instead of leaving you be, he stomps over “what do you think you’re doing?” he inquires, voice bellowing more than he intended “i’m waiting for the lasagne to cook, it’s in the oven. Enjoy your shower, honey?” you probe sarcastically, a rhetorical question. However your sarcasm infuriates him further as he picks you up with ease.

“Andy, put me down. NOW” you shout, kicking your legs and slapping his upper back as he drapes you over like you weigh nothing.

“Dinner is in the oven” you remind him, desperate to avoid burning it. But that’s when he puts you down before walking over to the kitchen and turning the oven off.

Your eyes widen as he approaches you once again, picking you up and carrying you up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he always does.

“Andy” you groan until he places you back onto your own two feet, his hands practically rip your robe off to expose your naked body before he does the same to the towel covering his manhood up.

“I’ll tell you what’s about to happen, honey and you’re going to listen” he informs you, stepping closer and moving you to stand in front of the mirror. You correct your abysmal posture as you look back at him in the mirror. A sinister glint in his eyes becomes crystal clear as a wicked grin graces his handsome face. His beard full, his hair still wet from the shower as droplets of water drip down his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” the pure filth has you holding your breath in shock before exhaling dramatically.

He’s always been kinky but sometimes he still manages to leave you shocked. Although it’s times like these that you love him the most, the whines and whimpers he draws from you so effortlessly, the way he causes your body to tremble raggedly and most of all the way your entire world stops turning as he brings you to that cliff edge, pushing you off of it with his two large menacing hands.

He kicks your legs apart further before pulling your arms to the back of you. He hooks his arm inside of them to prevent you from moving away from him whilst his other hand massages your puffy petal like folds before circling your dripping entrance.

Once his tip is resting directly at the tight hole, he proceeds to move forward, the skin around your entrance catching onto him as your walls welcome him inside.

“Oh, fuckkk” he draws out the word, groaning and gasping for air as he drives home, the feeling overwhelming you to the limit.

How can one man have such a firm and tight grip on you like this?

How did you end up here, unable to utter out a single word as his pace picks up before he’s fucking into you so violently, snapping his hips with no signs of slowing down.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, honey, do as i say” he warns, and the moment you look up at him, you see the darkness and it causes you to look away, focusing back on yourself just like he instructed you to do.

The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls so fast is enough to cause the knot in your stomach to tighten painfully. The pleasure is almost too intense to bare, too much for your fragile body to handle. Yet you continue to take it, allowing him to fuck away his anger, channeling it into this moment.

His arm and hand tightens around your arms, holding you in place as he keeps his sights on you, watching as your mouth hangs open in the perfect O shape. Fuck, you look perfect like this with him bending you to his will, using you for the sole purpose of his pleasure and his pleasure only.

How did he get so lucky to be graced with you’re beauty?

The harder he snaps his hips into you, the more the coil tightens and the all too familiar feeling builds all the more inside of you. An ongoing reminder of your impending orgasm.

“Andy, i-i’m gonna c-cum” you tell him, begging for him to allow you the privilege of releasing, the privilege of creaming all over his rock hard cock.

A dark chuckle erupts from his throat, mocking your pleas for a release before tutting at you, the torment continuing.

“Please” you beg once again, only to be reprimanded with the harsh sting of his hand landing on your ass cheek “keep your eyes on the mirror, honey. You’ll come when i tell you to, quit being a brat”

The need to release is almost unbearable, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes and drowning out your vision before you blink, allowing them to stream down your innocent looking face for him to see. It only spurs him on more as he moves his free hand in from of you, kicking your legs further apart before smacking down on your sex brutally. Your body jerks in response before somewhat relaxing at the feel of him rubbing briskly at your pulsating clit.

“That’s it, honey. Taking that cock so fucking well”

“I need to c-cum, A-Andy” your voice trembles frantically in hopes of him taking pity upon you.

“Shhh, baby. Just let daddy fuck the frustration away, gotta fuck it all away” his words are pure filth but his tone is gentle and needy. He just wants to take his anger out on your body, channel it into something.

You can imagine that with the field of work he’s in that he finds it hard to keep his cool with Neil every day. Which is a shame because they used to be close.

Granted that was back when Neil first started and Andy mentored him, whipped him into shape and taught him everything he knows. And Neil is a better lawyer because of it. However, it also means that he’s just rude, obnoxious and cocky towards Andy, pushing him to the edge and taunting him a little more every day.

“Hold yourself back for daddy, you’ll cum when i give you permission to. Is that clear, honey?”

“Yes” you mumble, barely audible.

“What was that?”

“I mean, yes daddy” you correct, watching his eyes intently, searching for any sign of him letting up his tight hold and hard thrusts.

“Good girl, being so perfect for daddy and taking this fucking like a pro, huh?”

“Yes daddy”

Your eyes glaze over as you struggle to keep yourself in tact, the hold you have on your orgasm is slipping from your control slowly but surely and you know that if he doesn’t give you the go ahead soon then you’ll end up breaking the rules.

Something that will surely earn you a painful punishment.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum with me, honey?” he asks, gasping. You throw your head back onto his chest, arching your back into him further. You nod your head as quickly as you can as you feel your knees turning weak.

“Count down with me”

“10’ you say in unison, his fingers rubbing furiously at your sex.

“9” the sound of your skin slapping together bounces off of the walls.

“8” the feel of his mouth latching onto the sweet spot on your neck, pearly white teeth sinking in to mark you up.

“7” the moans he’s eliciting are now flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“6” deep grunts escape him as he pushes you against the mirror, causing your cheek to push up against it.

“5” the feel of him fucking into you tightens the coil for the final time, the feeling agonising.

“4” you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you arrive at the cliff edge.

“3” you say in unison as his thrusts turn from fast and rough to slow and hard.

“2” his cock twitches inside of you, your walls flutter around him over and over.

“1”

“That’s it, baby, cream all over that cock for me”

You let go, body shuttering as you stand up onto your tip toes. His grip on your arms lets up, causing you to fall forward, hands resting on the wall either side of the mirror.

“Oh god” he growls, hands splaying across the soft globes of your ass before he fills you with hot ropes of cum, breeding you unofficially.

He remains seated deep inside of you for a minute or two whilst the two of you struggle to regain control of your breathing, both of your hearts beating so fast that it feels as though they are on the cusp of exploding out of your chest.

“How are you feeling now?” you ask as he pulls out, turning to face him.

“Hungry for Chinese takeout and a night filled with fucking that tight cunt”

“Was that not enough?”

“I’ll never get my fill of you” he says, pulling your naked body flush against his “i want you all of the time and besides, that was just to channel my anger into something. The next time will be to make a baby”

“W-what?” your voice shaky as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You heard me, i’m gonna spend all night breeding you, honey. Gonna make you all nice and round with my child. Gives me a chance to take my mind of that cunt Neil”

You nod your head, humming your agreement before pressing your lips to his.

Sure, you’ve had chats about kids before but this is the first time he’s openly suggested trying and even after his outburst, your love for him remains.

You can’t wait to spend the night tangled up in the crisp white sheets of your bed, filled with his cum.

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

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[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Two (Harry Styles)

a/n: you guys thank you so much for all the love you’ve showed part one!! 🥺 im so happy you like the story! i wanted to post part two a little later, in the weekend but i got so happy for all the reactions that i decided to move it earlier so here it is! i’ll try to update soon, the longest it will take is one week probably. im working on my thesis and have a lot of school work so please be patient with me! feedback is very much welcomed, as always, your reactions and comments mean so much to me!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 10.4k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

Pulling Izzy out of daycare dramatically lessened the amount of time she could spend with her friends, so the situation needs extra attention on her socializing. You’ve been trying to take her to the park as much as possible so she could meet with kids her age and Harry has been arranging a lot of playdates for her with her friends from daycare.

When you come back from meeting your brother for lunch on a Sunday, you are greeted with not two, but eight little feet running around the living room, many of Izzy’s toys have been brought downstairs and the coffee table is filled with fruits, snacks and drinks for the kids. You know the two little guests, it’s Yara and Zac, the three of them were like a little gang back when Izzy was attending daycare. Yara’s moms and Zac’s mom are sitting on the terrace, letting the kids roam around freely, Harry is in the kitchen preparing some sandwiches for the guests when you arrive back.

“Hi, do you need help with anything?” you ask, catching his attention.

“Oh, hi! No I’m fine, thank you. How was lunch with your brother?”

“Great,” you smile at him before leaving him to do whatever he has to do.

“Miss Y/N!” Yara greets you, waving in your way while munching on an apple slice.

“Hello Yara, Zac,” you smile at them before walking out to the terrace to greet the parents. “Hi! Ava, Saige, it’s nice to see you again. And Linda, hello!”

“Y/N, hi! Harry told us you might return soon, so good to see you!” Ava greets you as you join them at the table. They’ve been the nicest parents while you were working at the daycare, though you weren’t the only victim of the closed-minded cowards that got you fired. Ava and Saige have faced quite a lot of backlash for basically daring to be a same-sex couple out in the open. You’ve heard many complaints from other parents about how they don’t want them to pick up their daughter together. Apparently, it’s confusing for the kids to see two women to be the mothers of the same child. Ridiculous.

“I was out having lunch with my brother. How have you been?”

“Things are the same, you know,” Saige shrugs with a scowl. “But your firing has got us thinking about pulling Yara out as well.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, it’s starting to get really ridiculous. I mean it’s one thing that we get weird looks, but firing you was kind of the last straw,” Ava nods.

“And how have you been here, Y/N? How is working for Harry?” Linda asks.

“Oh, it’s amazing, really. I love taking care of Izzy, she is so easy to handle and I love seeing her learn and grow. And Harry is a great boss, I got really lucky.”

“Lucky indeed!” Ava smirks, making them all laugh as you feel yourself blushing. “Even I sometimes dream about the man,” she adds, keeping her tone down.

“How do you keep your cool?” Linda sighs. “If I had to live with this man, I would go nuts.”

“Well, Izzy keeps me pretty busy, and he is my boss, so…”

“It’s not like HR would be up your ass if you got involved,” Saige shrugs, taking a sip from her iced tea.

You don’t get to react, the kids run out, taking over the playground, Harry arriving right behind them with a plate filled with sandwiches for the guests.

“Ladies, sorry for the wait,” he smiles, placing the food to the table as he joins your little circle.

“Oh Harry, thank you so much!” Ava sighs, grabbing one already. “We were just talking to Y/N about how big of an upgrade it is for her to work here.”

“Is it?” he asks, slightly surprised as he glances over at you.

“I mean, the paycheck is better and it’s clearly a better environment,” you chuckle shrugging.

“I just don’t know why Claire lets those assholes control the place. She is the boss there, she should stand up against them,” Linda scowls.

“She is just trying to avoid confrontation.”

“No, she is afraid they would stop paying the daycare the money, so she is an ass-kisser,” Saige scoffs, making you laugh.

“Well, at least I have Y/N now to take good care of Izzy,” Harry smiles, his eyes meeting yours and you swear your heart skips a beat when he says that he has you.

“Lucky bastard!” Ava throws her hands into the air, making everyone laugh.

Enjoying the company, you stay outside instead of locking yourself up in your room. It’s nice to see the moms occasionally pick on Harry, they surely like to joke about him being a hot single dad, but he usually just blushes and smiles at the compliments. Linda and Zac leave first, then Ava, Saige and Yara head home as well when it’s nearing five in the afternoon. Though Harry tells you to just leave the cleanup for him, you insist on helping.

“Now I feel bad you are working on your day off,” he huffs as you help him around in the kitchen.

“It’s not working,” you roll your eyes. “I live here too, of course I’m gonna help keeping it clean.”

“You know, if your brother ever wants to come over, feel free to invite him.”

“Might take your word, because he is very curious about the place,” you chuckle. Harry smiles as he starts washing the dishes.

“He is welcomed anytime.”

“Thank you.” Putting away the snacks that was left you start drying the dishes while he is washing them, working next to each other in silence. Unlike his usual attire, he is now wearing just a plain white t-shirt with light-washed jeans. “You’re quite the moms’ favorite,” you tease him, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Saige and Ava like to pull my leg, but I know they mean well.”

“They are great people, I always liked them,” you smile glancing at him.

“I remember when I first met them at a parents’ meeting, they spotted how lost I was among all the moms and asked if I wanted to sit with them. Then Izzy became friends with Yara so we met quite a few times.”

“I find it a little funny we never met while I was working at the daycare. Izzy was in my group for almost a year and we just never ran into each other.”

Harry licks his lips before turning his gaze to you, finishing up the dishes and turning the water off.

“I saw you.” Your eyebrows shoot up. How did you not see him?

“Really?”

“Yeah, just a few times. Mostly it was Ruth who picked up Izzy these past few months. I had a huge project that ended just before you started here, so I didn’t have the chance to pick her up that much. But I saw you a few times. You were just always busy with the kids, I guess… you didn’t notice me,” he shrugs, holding his arms on his chest as he leans against the counter.

“It could get pretty intense sometimes even though it was just a daycare,” you chuckle, remembering to all the tantrums and fussy dramas that happened between the kids. Sometimes it felt more like a high school than a daycare, especially when friends were taken and lovestories happened through lunchtimes.

“Daddy! What are we having for dinner?” Izzy runs into the kitchen, tippy-tapping her hands on the counter that she can barely reach.

“Macaroni and cheese.”

“Yes! Maccy cheese!” Izzy cheers throwing her hands into the air. Harry smiles down at her, ruffling her hair and you can’t push down a smile at what she just called mac and cheese.

Harry starts prepping for dinner, he puts on some music that Izzy dances to and though you try to leave them be and enjoy their alone time, Izzy insists you stay and help as well.

“Izzy, let Y/N do what she wants, this is her day off,” Harry warns her, making her pout her lips at you. Not that you would have said no to her, but now you definitely can’t leave.

“It’s alright. I’m happy to help.”

Izzy sits on the counter in a safe distance from the stove, her duty is to watch the pasta cook while Harry takes care of the sauce and you set the table, knowing it won’t take long for the food to be ready.

“Daddy?” Izzy speaks up, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes, baby?”

“I love Maccy cheese. Does mom like it too?”

Harry’s eyes flicker over to you, as if he is embarrassed you caught a moment that shouldn’t have been revealed and you can tell he is still kind of torn how to handle the mentioning of his late wife. You keep a straight face, making yourself busy with cleaning off the counter top. You wouldn’t want to make him think he can’t talk about Maggie in your presence.

“Um, yeah. Mommy loves mac and cheese,” he nods, giving her knees a little squeeze before moving her off the counter to take care of the pasta.

Your eyes meet Harry’s gaze when you bring some water to the table and you can tell he is still thinking about the slip you just heard, but you give him a soft smile, trying your best to assure him nothing bad happened.

Izzy babbles through dinner about everything she did with Yara and Zac today, excited to see them as soon as possible and Harry promises her to arrange a meeting for them in the park sometime next week. You try to help with cleaning up, but Harry doesn’t let you, so pouring yourself a nice glass of wine you sit in the living room to watch some TV before going to bed. After dinner, Harry takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath and once that’s done she is allowed to play some more in her room.

Harry joins you soon on the couch with a glass of wine as well, seemingly tired from all the socializing he did. Peeking at him while the evening news is playing on the screen, you notice that he is not even paying attention, deep in his thoughts he is pulling on his bottom lip like he always does whenever he is deep in focus. You have a guess what he is thinking about, but you want to give him the time and space to figure out if he is ready to share or not.

“I, uhh—I never really told you why it’s just Izzy and I,” he speaks up and you turn to him with patience, knowing the importance of him bringing it up. “My wife… Maggie, she… We got married about six years ago and then two years later we had Izzy. She was six months old when Maggie…”

He is struggling to find the words, or to just even think about it and you don’t want him to feel like he has to tell you about any of it.

“Harry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I always feel bad that I don’t talk about her, makes it look like I’m trying to forget about her, but that’s not at all the case, it’s just… hard to think about how long it’s been and I still feel like it was just… last week.”

Harry sniffles and you’re not sure if it’s because he is getting emotional to the point where he is going to start crying or it’s nothing significant, but you feel the urge to assure him about your support. Reaching over you put your hand to his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes first fall to your hand and then to you, a sense of softness shining back from his green irises as he lets out a shaky breath.

“It was a car accident. She was driving home late night from her sister’s and a drunk driver ran the red light, crashed right into her car. They both were rushed into hospital, but Maggie’s lungs collapsed and she… they couldn’t help her. The guy had surgery and though he broke quite a few bones and had a serious concussion, he survived.”

You have to bite into your bottom lip, already feeling the tears welling in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. You can only imagine what it’s like to be called and find out your wife was killed because of the dumb mistake of someone else. And to think that Izzy was still so small, Harry was left with a baby and the immense grief so suddenly, it must have been the toughest time he had to go through.

“I’m really sorry, Harry,” you quietly tell him, his eyes flickering up to meet yours and they are glistening from the tears. He just nods, blinking a few times before drinking up his wine.

Before anything else could be said, you hear Izzy running down the stairs, soon throwing herself to the couch, cuddling to Harry’s side.

“Hey baby, want to go to sleep already?” he asks, softly brushing through her hair with his fingers. Izzy nods, blinking sleepily. Harry scoops her into his arms standing up from the couch and he is reaching for his empty glass, but you take it before he could.

“I’ll wash it, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, holding Izzy tight before the two of them disappear upstairs.

You don’t stay out too long yourself either, washing the glasses you let a single tear run down your cheek before quickly wiping it away and heading up to your room.

The past two years you’ve been taking gigs as a photographer more and more, going to weddings, birthday parties, baby showers or anniversaries to snap photos of others’ most precious moments. You are not a professional, nor do you treat yourself as one, but the more events you attended and the more work you put out, the more popular you started to get. Now you have about two bookings every month and you are able to ask for a quite impressive amount of money for a session that people are willing to pay for your pictures.

You’ve been putting off your gigs since you moved into the Styles mansion, wanting to focus on all the changes in your lives, but now that you’ve gotten quite used to your new life one month into it, you are getting back to your usual. This Saturday you’re doing a photoshoot of a soon-to-be-wedded pair who also booked you for their upcoming wedding in a few weeks. It’s kind of an engagement photoshoot since they couldn’t do one when they got engaged months ago, but they didn’t want to miss out on the chance to do one before they official tie the knot.

Harry and Izzy are planning to go to the zoo today, something she’s been begging to do for weeks now and Harry finally gave in, so all three of you are going to be quite busy today. The photoshoot takes place at this fancy, mid-century styled café the couple chose, so you decide to dress up yourself a little too. Putting on a maroon colored pencil skirt that hugs your hips and waist tight, you tuck into it a white silky blouse, making you appear like some kind of eyecandy assistant straight out of a Hollywood movie, especially with your low bun, which is less for the look but more for practicality, since you don’t like it when your hair gets caught in the straps of your camera.

Swinging your camera bag to one shoulder and your handbag to the other one, your camera hanging from your neck, you head downstairs, rushing a little because you’re short on time already. Izzy is sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is packing them some lunch and snacks for the day.

“Oh! Y/N, you look so pretty!” Izzy beams at you when you near the corner. She is dangling her legs playfully, her piggy tails curling adorably on each sides of her head. Harry’s head snaps up and his lips part upon spotting you.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” you smile at her, caressing her cheek, tickling her a little that makes her giggle.

“Where are you going?” she asks curiously.

“Izzy, don’t question her all the time, that’s not too nice,” Harry warns her, but you just shake your head.

“It’s alright. I have a photoshoot today. I have to take pictures of a couple that’s going to get married soon,” you explain to her and Harry’s ears perk up, eyeing the camera that’s hanging from your neck.

“I didn’t know you are a photographer,” Harry hums, closing the cooler.

“Well, I’m not a professional, but I’ve been doing photoshoots here and there.”

“That’s amazing!” he smiles warmly.

“Thanks. Well, I gotta go because I’m running a little late. Have fun at the zoo!” you smile, at them before walking out. You reach the front door but stop for a moment to read the text the bride has sent you letting you know they are running a little late as well. That’s when you hear the conversation between Harry and Izzy coming from the kitchen.

“She looked so pretty!” Izzy sighs. You expect Harry to just hum or ignore her words, but for your surprise, he answers her.

“Yeah, she really does.”

You blush like a teenage girl, feeling your heart fluttering in your chest as you smile, walking out of the house.

The father-daughter duo is still out when you get home later. You make yourself a tea and sit out to the terrace with your computer, starting to edit the photos right away so you can send then over to the couple as soon as possible. They turned out pretty good, you love the colorful vibe the café had and it went well with the pair’s outfits.

You get so into editing that you don’t even notice Harry and Izzy arriving home, just when the sliding door opens and Izzy runs up to you, holding a stuffed animal that appears to be an otter.

“Y/N, look what daddy got me!” she cheers holding up the toy.

“Oh my god, it’s really cute!” You pull her to sit on your lap as she hugs the toy, clearly happy to have a new addition to her already existing army. Harry walks out with a bottle of water and a glass. Joining the two of you at the table, he pours some water for Izzy and makes her drink it.

“We spent an entire hour watching the otters,” he chuckles, brushing Izzy’s hair out of her face as she chugs the water down.

“Can’t blame you, they are really cute,” you chuckle. Izzy puts the empty glass down and hops off your lap before announcing that she is gonna show her new toy around in the backyard before running away from you.

“Are those… the pictures from today?” Harry shyly asks, eyeing your laptop’s screen.

“Oh, yeah. Wanted to get a headstart on editing,” you nod turning it so he can have a better look. “Want to see what I got so far?”

“Of course!” he nods smiling.

You click through the photos you’ve already edited, there are about ten in total and you’re quite satisfied with how they turned out to be.

“Wow, they look… really good, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you smile blushing a little.

“What events do you usually do?”

“Mostly weddings and engagement shoots, birthdays, these kinds of stuff.”

“It’s really amazing,” he nods smiling.

“I… Hope you won’t be mad but I’ve shot a few pictures of Izzy too these past weeks,” you admit, hoping he won’t get upset for you, doing it without his permission. “I didn’t use them anywhere, I wasn’t planning to, I just thought they were nice moments.”

“Oh, can I see them?”

“Of course!”

Opening up the folder you put her pictures into, you start clicking through the few photos you took of her. There’s one of her during her swimming lesson, laughing happily as she holds onto the edge of the pool, her wet locks sticking to her head. Then there’s one when the two of you were baking cupcakes and she got icing all over her face and tried to lick it off, her tongue sticking out on the picture. There are some of her just roaming around the backyard, exploring the bugs hiding in the grass, some of her napping with her favorite stuffed animals on the couch and then the last one was taken when she was jumping in her bed, you caught her up in the air, the widest smile on her face as she was laughing straight into the camera.

“Y/N, these are… wow. They are all so good, I love them!”

“Really?” Your smile grows wide, happy that he likes them.

“Yeah! Do you think… do you think you can send them to me?”

“Of course! I can get them printed for you, if you’d like. There’s a place where I go to get my photos printed, they make them look like they were taken on an analog, old school camera, I love that little extra touch on the pictures.”

“That would be fantastic,” he smiles, clearly in awe of your work.

You spend the rest of the afternoon editing while Harry and Izzy take over the kitchen as usual. When you’re on your way up to your room with your laptop after you decided to call it a day, you catch them in there, Izzy making Harry dance around with her while they are chopping the veggies. Harry is swaying his lips to the rhythm, humming to the song as Izzy is jumping and twirling around, singing from the top of her lungs. Despite the terrible loss of her mother, there’s no doubt Izzy is having the best possible childhood, getting all the love she deserves from her dad and you feel happy you are here to witness them grow together.

You did not see your parents’ divorce coming, probably because it’s been over six years since you’ve moved out and you only saw them every other week at best. You always tried to come around as often as possible, wanting to spend time with Trevor and of course, them as well, but you had to focus on building your own life. You had to worry about your work, your own living space and not much later you started dating Keith so you were pretty busy to say the least. You weren’t there when things started to go downhill, but Trevor was. He had to suffer through every fight and screaming match they had without any support and you’ve always felt guilty about it, but you couldn’t just move back home. However you’ve always tried to do everything you could to support him through these hard times. He knew he could call you anytime he had enough of the spiteful atmosphere at home and you were quick to come to his rescue.

You were mad at your parents, there’s no need to lie about it. But not because of getting a divorce, you knew better than to expect them to suffer in a marriage they weren’t happy in, but the way they handled has always been just… unacceptable. Especially because in the midst of their anger and hatred towards each other they started to forget that they still had a kid living home who had to listen to everything they threw at each other, things no son should ever hear about his parents, no matter if they were true or not.

Being a teenager in high school is stressful enough as it is, but having to deal with your parents’ nasty divorce is just something no teenager should have to go through. Trevor has been dealing with it for a while now and he is trying his best to just shut them out whenever they are going at it, but sometimes it’s not that easy. That’s when he seeks comfort at you.

It’s a Thursday evening when your parents decide to drive Trevor up the wall with their screaming and fighting again. You’re watching a movie with Izzy and Harry in the entertainment room, working on your laptop simultaneously, confirming some photoshoots for the upcoming weekends. Harry has let Izzy play with his hair while watching the movie, so now she is all over her daddy, decorating his hair with little hairclips and hair ties while the man is just sitting there without a complaint.

Your phone starts buzzing on the couch and Trevor’s photo is flashing on the screen. Putting the laptop aside, you grab your phone and walk out of the room not to disturb them with your call.

“Hey!” you greet him happily, but your stomach immediately drops when you hear him draw a shaky breath on the other end of the line. “Trev? What’s wrong?”

“Can I please spend the night at yours?” he pleads weakly.

“What happened, are you alright?” you perk up right away.

“It’s just… dad came over this afternoon and they went at it again and now they are doing it over the phone, mom is like really out of her mind right now. I have a math test tomorrow and I don’t think I can sleep here like this. She is still screaming at him over the phone.”

“I’m leaving right now, pack a bag, alright?”

“Thanks,” he breathes out and ends the call. Rushing back into the entertainment room Harry turns to you while Izzy is still busy with his hair.

“Uh, I know it’s really sudden and all, but my brother just called, would it be fine if he spent the night over here?” Even though Harry himself told you it’s fine to have people over, you still feel like you need to ask for his permission, especially if your guest is planning to stay the night.

“Is he alright? Of course he can come over.” Sitting straight up he asks Izzy to sit down a little which she gladly does, turning her attention towards the movie.

“It’s just, um, our parents are having another scream match. They are… They are in the middle of getting a divorce and they are not handling it right,” you let out a bitter chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Do you need me to come with you? You seem very upset, you sure you can drive?”

“No, it’s alright, but thanks. I’m fine. I’ll be back soon with him and thank you so much for letting him stay,” you breathe out. He just nods with a sympathetic smile before you turn around and leave.

Through the drive over to the house where you grew up your anger just grows with each turn you take. You love your parents to death, they raised you in a quite unusual and hard situation, they had to grow up with you when they had you so young, but they always made sure to give you everything you needed. And you know they have the same kind of love towards Trevor, but their hatred for each other is blinding them and they probably don’t even realize how much it affects him, but you are not letting them ruin everything because they fell out of love. Trevor deserves the same kind of supportive and loving environment to grow up in just like the one you had and there’s nothing that could change that.

Pulling up to the driveway you take a deep breath as you march up to the front porch and use your keys to let yourself in. The shouting hits your ears right away, it’s coming from the kitchen, but Trevor is the first one you spot on the top of the stairs. His hood is on and he has a backpack in his hands as he comes down the stairs with a pained and tired face.

“Hey! Left the car open, go get in there, I’ll be out in a minute,” you softly tell him as you give him a quick hug.

“Thanks,” he mumbles before walking out.

Following your mother’s voice to the kitchen you find her with a half empty bottle of wine, cussing your father out through the phone.

“Go and fuck that bitch you went out to have dinner with last weekend! Yes I know about that!” she spats and you wince at her words.

“Mom!” you call out, but she doesn’t even register your voice.

“Fuck you, Fred! Fuck you!” she continues, so you raise your voice a little more.

“Mom!” This time she finally hears it and turning around she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? You didn’t say you were coming,” she adds, her voice soft and weak this time, the anger long gone from it.

“I’m here to pick Trevor up. Put dad on speaker, I want to have a word with you two,” you tell her firmly and she gulps hard, nodding as she sets the phone to the counter, putting your dad on speaker.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” you hear him question from the other end of the line.

“I could ask the same thing!” you snap back, fed up with the way they have been acting. They might have lost a good chunk of their youth because they were busy taking care of you after having at just nineteen, but that doesn’t give them the right to act like literal cavemen in front of your brother.

“Trevor called me all upset, begging me to come and get him. What is wrong with you two? You have been at each other’s throats all the damn time, it is not healthy not just for Trevor but to either of you!”

“Y/N, sweetie, there’s just a lot going on—“ your mother tries to explain, but you cut her off.

“I don’t fucking care! Whatever is going on between the two of you, Trevor should be first! No matter what! He needs you both, he needs the support and love, but he is only getting the screaming and fighting. This is not right!”

“It’s a hard situation, you have to be patient with us, Y/N,” your father sighs over the phone and you can’t hold your ironic laughter back.

“Patient? I’ve been patient with you these past about five months since you’ve been literally tearing each other to pieces. Do yourselves and everyone else a favor and just get it over with. Dad, pick up all your stuff and don’t come here for mom’s sake. Mom, don’t snoop around dad’s life, because it’s not your business anymore. Stop being ignorant and maybe start to think about the kid you still have living near you.”

Your words might have been harsh, but it needed to be said. You can tell by your mother’s shocked expression and from the way your dad is dead silent in the call that your message finally hit them in the head and you hope they are willing to get their shit together so Trevor doesn’t lose his mind.

“Trevor is staying with me tonight, we’ll see when he wants to come back, but you better think about what I just told you,” you warn them before walking out and leaving them to think about their actions finally.

Trevor stays silent on the road back to Harry’s and you don’t try to force him to talk, it’s clear he has had enough for today. Arriving back home you park your car next to Harry’s Range Rover and the two of you walk inside in silence.

It’s past Izzy’s bedtime so you’re not surprised to find only Harry in the kitchen when you walk into the house. Harry seems cautious, almost worried as he spots you and Trevor in the hallway.

“Trevor, this is my boss, Harry. Harry, this is my brother, Trevor,” you introduce them to each other quickly. They shake hands with a manly nod.

“Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” Trevor clears his throat, feeling a little out of place.

“No worries. Feel free to use any of the guest bedrooms,” Harry smiles softly.

“Oh, we’ll be fine sleeping in my room,” you assure him but Harry shakes his head at your words.

“We have plenty of space. Please, use them!”

“Thank you,” Trevor mumbles and you shoot Harry a thankful look before walking your brother upstairs.

You opt for the room next to yours, Help Trevor get comfortable, making sure he has everything he needs for the night.

“Did you get into a fight with mom and dad?” he asks, when you are sitting on the edge of his bed, about to leave him alone.

“I just told them to get their shit together,” you chuckle, giving his leg a squeeze under the covers. He cracks a smile at you, but it’s not as genuine as it should be. “I’ll drive you to school in the morning. My room is right next to this one, come over if you need anything, alright?”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Good night, Trev,”you tell him switching the lights off and walking towards the door.

“Good night, Y/N,” he calls after you before you close the door, letting out a long breath.

As you make your way down to the kitchen you see that Harry is still there, his eyes snap up to you, filled with concern and worry.

“Everything alright?” he asks as you make yourself a tea.

“Yeah, he was just fed up with the constant screaming. I can’t blame him, my mother didn’t even realize I was there until I raised my voice at her.”

“I’m sorry about that. Must be hard dealing with high school and a nasty divorce.”

“It is,” you sigh. “But thank you for letting him stay, really.” “I meant it when I said it’s just as much your home as it is ours. He can come over anytime, don’t worry about that,” he shrugs.

“Thank you. I’ll drive him to school in the morning, but I’ll be back by the time you leave, is that alright?”

“Of course,” he smiles warmly. “You two look a lot alike.”

“We get that a lot,” you chuckle. “It’s the eyes and nose shape, I think. We got those from our mother.”

“People say I look like my sister too, but I don’t really see it, if I’m being honest,” he chuckles lightly.

“Yeah? Why?”

“No idea,” he shakes his head laughing. “I just don’t see it, but I couldn’t tell you really.”

Sipping on your tea you stay in the kitchen with Harry, the light conversation about his sister and eventually his mother eases the stress that has been gripping on your chest from the encounter you had with your parents earlier. You’re not sure if he tried to talk you through it because he saw how much you needed the distraction or if it’s just how he is, but either way, he really helped you to relax.

Cleaning after yourself the two of you head to bed, saying good night to each other before disappearing in your rooms.

“This place is like… really huge,” Trevor sighs in awe when the two of you are eating breakfast together the next morning.

“I told you, it’s a mansion,” you chuckle, digging into your oatmeal. “I’ll show you around next time you’re here.”

“T’was nice of Harry to let me stay,” he hums.

“Mhm, he is a cool boss,” you smile at him.

“And kinda handsome…” Glancing at Trevor you see the sly smirk on his lips and you give him a stern look.

“Stop right there, alright? No funny thoughts!”

“Funny thoughts?” he laughs leaning back in his seat. “I just made a statement that he is a nice looking man, that’s it. Do you not agree?”

“I’m not commenting on the topic,” you diplomatically answer.

“On what topic?” Harry appears from the stairs, making you both turn his way. “Good morning,” he smiles warmly.

“Morning!” Trevor nods his way before he turns back to you, still smirking. You narrow your eyes at him before answering Harry.

“The topic doesn’t matter. Morning, Harry!”

He pours himself some coffee that you brew earlier before joining the two of you at the dining table. He strikes up a conversation with Trevor, asking him about school and his future plans once he graduates and luckily, Trevor is on his best behavior despite the comment he made earlier, he is not trying to put you into an uncomfortable situation. He knows better, because if he upsets you now, he will not be returning to the mansion, that’s for sure.

“Alright, get your stuff, we are leaving in five,” you tell him when both of you are done eating. Nodding he disappears upstairs as you take care of the dishes quickly.

“Is he staying tonight as well?” Harry asks, following you into the kitchen.

“Oh, no. I’m sure mom wants to talk to him after last night, so it’s better if he goes home.”

“Hope things will get easier for him,” he smiles and you return it, thankful that he let him stay here when he really needed a place for himself.

“Thanks for everything, Harry” Trevor smiles at him when he arrives with his backpack.

“Of course, come back soon, but under more peaceful conditions,” he chuckles nodding in his way.

“I’ll be back soon!” you call out before walking out of the house with your brother.

“So how long have you been crushing on your boss?” Trevor asks in the car and your eyes widen as you try to keep the car straight in the lane.

“Excuse you?”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s kinda obvious, you swoon at everything the man says, haven’t seen you this soft since your high school graduation,” he chuckles, finding your reaction quite entertaining, but you’re not enjoying the situation that much.

“I do not have a crush on Harry,” you shake your head laughing, but you can’t ignore the knot in your stomach at your own words. Was this that big of a lie?

“That’s too bad because I think he has a thing for you too,” he shrugs, carelessly staring out the window, like it’s that casual to discuss you and your boss having possible feelings for each other.

“When did you become an expert on these stuff?” you huff, glancing at him shortly before turning back to face the road.

“I’m not an expert, but I’m not blind either. And I saw the way he looked at you.”

“What way?” you scoff.

“Like he is thankful you are walking this Earth.”

“Did you take this from a rom-com on Netflix?” you tease him, but he just shrugs. “Of course he is thankful, I’m helping him with his daughter. It’s not easy being a single parent and I’m helping him immensely. But there’s nothing else behind that.”

“Sure, good luck convincing yourself,” he sighs when you park the car down at his school. “Thanks for the ride and the night too. I’ll call you later.”

Leaning over the console he gives you a quick hug before hopping out of the car and walking towards the main building.

Arriving back home you find Izzy sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal on her lap, watching her favorite morning cartoon, but no sign of Harry and for a moment you get scared you got back too late, but then you realize he wouldn’t leave Izzy home alone.

“Hey Sunshine, did you sleep well?” you ask, caressing her rosy cheek as you join her on the couch.

“Mhm, what are we doing today?” she asks, showing a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“You have French class today with Lyon and in the afternoon I thought we could learn about otters. You seemed to like them a lot at the zoo.”

“Yes! They are so cute!” she cheers happily just when you hear footsteps coming from the stairs. Turning around you spot Harry walking towards the living room, but your lips part immediately when you see that he is putting on another shirt, his naked chest on display since he hasn’t buttoned it fully. What you saw not long ago from your balcony is now so much closer, the swallows peeking out from under the shirt and you see the little cross pendant hanging between his pecs, something you’ve only seen if he pulled it out of his shirts which didn’t happen that often.

Harry stops in his tracks when he sees you on the couch with Izzy and a blush paints his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were back,” he breathes out, his fingers working fast on the buttons to get himself presentable again though you wish he would just get rid of the whole thing… “Izzy spilled some juice on me so I had to change quickly,” he explains, finishing with the buttons and he quickly fixes it so he looks just as spotless as always.

“You poured too much into my cup!” Izzy defends herself furrowing her eyebrows at her dad.

“Of course it was my fault, who else’s would have it been?” Harry huffs as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Y/N, I have something to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I know it’s pretty sudden and on a very short notice but could you maybe look after Izzy tonight? Niall called me and begged to meet up with him for a few drinks. I would call Ruth, but she is out of town this week.”

“Oh sure! No problem,” you smile at him.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to do? Don’t feel pressured to say yes, I should have asked in advance, it’s just—“ “Harry, it’s fine. I’m okay looking after her tonight,” you assure him before he talks himself down from letting you do it. “Go have fun, you barely get out of the house without Izzy.” If you’re being honest the only place he goes to without his daughter is work and it’s a little saddening, he deserves some time out from his daddy duties.

“Thank you,” he smiles at you with gratitude. “I won’t be out too long, I promise.”

“No worries, have fun with Niall,” you wave in dismiss.

“Thanks. Have a great day. Be good, baby. I’ll see you in the afternoon.” Harry kisses Izzy’s forehead before grabbing his suit jacket, wallet, keys and phone and heads out to start his day.

“Alright, daddy is off to work and we also have a day ahead of us. Come on, let’s get started,” you smile at Izzy who nods in agreement.

Harry swears he didn’t come home earlier than his usual because he feels bad for asking you to cover the evening, but you know that’s a blatant lie. He is home by three and frees you for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you with about two extra hours. He informs you that he would be leaving around seven, so dinner time will still be his duty, but you’ll have to put Izzy to bed at her usual time, which works perfectly for you.

A little before seven Harry disappears to take a quick shower and get changed before heading out, while you sit out in the living room with Izzy, reading her from a book she chose after dinner.

When Harry returns, he is dressed more casually than he usually does for work, wearing a pair of beige slacks and a black shirt tucked into it, the first three buttons left undone, showing just a hint of his tattooed chest for the viewers.

“Okay, I just called a car, it’ll be here any minute. Please call me if anything happens, I could come home anytime.”

“Harry, I take care of her all day, I’m sure we’ll be fine for one evening as well,” you chuckle, trying to ease his nervousness about leaving his daughter home at a time he is not used to.

“Right,” he lets out a soft chuckle. “Thank you again. And Izzy, be good. Y/N will put you to bed tonight, but I’ll be here in the morning, okay?”

“Okay!” she sings, completely fine with the new arrangement.

“Alright, see you soon, good night!” he calls out on his way out of the house.

Sitting at the rooftop bar, Harry and Niall take up a small table for two near the railing so they have a nice view of the city below them. The waitress brings their order, tequila on the rocks for Harry and a good pint for Niall, and the latter man can’t ignore the fact how pretty she is in her tight white shirt and short black skirt, smiling coyly at the men as she asks if they want anything else.

“We’re good for now, Darling. Thank yeh,” Niall smirks and even winks at the woman, who is seemingly enjoying the attention from him, but deep down she would be happier if it was Harry who was trying to flirt with him. However he is busy on his phone, typing out an email even at this ungodly hour, which pisses his friend off.

“Would you stop being a workaholic prick and maybe glance at the woman that wants to fuck the shit out of you?” Niall snaps at him, grabbing his attention, but he just rolls his eyes.

“That would require my interest as well, which is not there.”

“That’s fucking sad. Really, mate. How long are you going to act like a crybaby? I’m getting tired of your long face. I get it, shit happened, but you eventually have to move on.”

Harry tries to ignore his words, eyes glued to the screen of his phone hoping his friend would just drop it, but that’s not what Niall is like. So instead of leaving him to be, he grabs his phone, snaps it right out of his hands and then shoves it into his pocket.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” he growls at his friend who just gives him a hard look.

“Harry, I’m worried about you. You do nothing, just work and be with Izzy.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t spend time with my daughter?” he asks twisting his words.

“You know that’s not what I mean. Spend as much time with her as possible, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“I’m taking care of myself. I sleep and eat well and I workout regularly. I don’t see what else I might need.” “Fuck. You need to fuck,” he points out, making Harry roll his eyes again.

“You know, sometimes I question why we are even friends…” Harry grumbles under his breath as he takes a sip from his drink, feeling like he definitely needs the alcohol if Niall is gonna pick on him all night.

“Because I’m the one who pushes you out of your pit of sorrow, m’friend. And right now I feel like I need to step in, because you are turning into a bitter old man.”

“I’m not bitter,” Harry narrows his eyes at him.

“And neither are you old, so why are you acting like you are?”

“Look, I know that you are a fan of the bachelor life, going to parties, sleeping around with any woman you can get, but that’s just not for me, it never was, not even a long time ago.”

“I’m not trying to get you to act like a frat boy, Har. I know you are too soft for that, but I think it might be time for you to, I don’t know, open up a bit.”

“Open up?”

“Yeah! Go out, meet new people, preferably women,” he adds with a knowing look. “It’s been more than three years, Harry. You can’t stay at home and mope around forever.”

“I really don’t think we should be having this conversation right now.”

“If not now, then when? I tried to talk to you about it many times, but you always just dodged it, so I gave you more time to adjust to the situation, but I think we are over that,” Niall sighs, leaning onto the table. “We both know time flies by. Soon Izzy will go to school, she’ll have her own little life and before you could even blink twice, she is gonna be a teenager, barely talking to you, only caring about some boyband, her friends and shows. The time will come when you’ll have to step back a little and I don’t want you to stay alone.”

“First of all, Izzy is 4 and she won’t be allowed to even think about being independent until she is twenty,” Harry starts off as Niall rolls his eyes at him.

“Yeah, sure. You’ll have an amazing time when she becomes a teenager.”

“Don’t even talk about her being a teenager.”

“It’s going to happen!” Niall snaps and Harry narrows his eyes at him. “Okay, let’s just calm down.” He takes a deep breath even though he is the only one getting mad right now. Harry might feel uncomfortable, but he is not one to lose his temper that easily. Niall on the other hand is known to be a little too passionate at times.

“Alright. Please know that I’m just trying to be a good friend. What happened is tragic and I can’t even imagine what you went through, though I was here all along so I have a slight guess. I’m happy that you are doing vehemently better now, it’s amazing, but I know that you’ll be miserable if you stay single forever.”

“I’m not gonna start dating, Niall. It’s just… too soon. I can’t get into a relationship now.” Harry shakes his head, gulping from his drink again, the alcohol burns down his throat as he grimaces shortly.

“I get it that you don’t want a relationship, but dating might not be that bad. I’m pretty sure there are some hot single moms you know who would love to go out with you for dinner or some shit.”

“I’m not interested in any of them,” he shrugs.

“Then what about Y/N?” Harry’s eyes snap up at his friend, flexing his jaw out of instinct.

“What about her?”

“She is pretty, nice and funny, completely your type. Why don’t you try it with her?”

“She works for me,” Harry replies right away.

“No one fucking cares,” Niall scoffs. “And because you didn’t say that you don’t like her, I assume you are into her.”

Harry lets out a heavy sighs shaking his head. You’ve not been the only one who’s been noticing the other. Ever since he has caught you watching him while doing his morning yoga, he couldn’t shake the thought of you and he took a special notice about a lot of things about you. Like the way you scrunch your nose every time you smile when Izzy says a word wrong, or the way you like to put up your hair into a ponytail when you’re playing with her in the backyard and there’s always a tiny strand that hangs lose at the back of your neck because it’s too short to reach up to the ponytail, but his favorite thing is how your voice is a little hoarse in the morning when you come down for the first time from upstairs. The thought that he is always the first person you talk to in the morning just brings this pleasant feeling into the pit of his stomach, something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

He can’t deny that he finds you beautiful either, how could he not? You’re just a wonderful person inside and out and he is thankful his daughter is in such good hands when he is away at work. But he hasn’t dared to think further than this, his mind just doesn’t let him, however Niall’s words are now poking at the sleeping giant.

“Stop assuming things,” Harry mumbles, looking away from his friend, feeling like he is being grilled.

“Stop denying things,” Niall retorts, earning a huff from Harry. “Okay, don’t ask her out just yet, but try to get closer to her. Become friends, try to open up and get to know her a little more!”

“I don’t want to get closer to her!” he replies, but he can easily point out how big of a lie that is, even though he is trying his best to make himself believe that it’s not.

“So you don’t have a crush on her?” Niall raises his eyebrows at him.

“Where are we, in middle school? I’m 31, I don’t have crushes,” Harry scoffs.

“Okay so then you don’t mind it if I ask her out?”

“You are not asking her out, Niall,” he sternly replies, reaching for his drink once again, that’s nearing its end very closely. He needs to order another one if Niall decides to be an asshole all night.

“Why not? He seemed to like me when we met, I think we both would have a nice evening, might even take her home—“

“Shut up, Niall. You are not going out with her!”

“Really? What’s stopping me?” he smirks, knowing well what he is doing and where this is heading. Harry opens his mouth, but then no words come out, because he realizes what he wanted to say should not be said out loud.

Because I like her, a tiny voice tells him in his mind. Niall’s smirk grows even bigger, because even though Harry didn’t answer, his face tells it all, confirming what he has been trying to force out of him all evening.

“Yeah, just as I thought,” he laughs, taking a few gulps from his beer. “I’m not telling you to fuck her brains out immediately, but it might be nice if you just got to know her a bit more. And if things seem to take, like… a turn, if you know what I mean, don’t chicken out, just go with it.”

“You know, Niall, you should worry about your own love life the way you worry about mine.”

“There’s nothing to worry about!” He beams, clearly without a worry. “I’m too good of a catch to be tied down, so I’m enjoying life to the fullest right now.”

“Aren’t you tired of waking up next to a different woman every morning?” Harry sighs, feeling exhausted just to think about the way his friend lives.

“Don’t judge for something you never tried. I like it, it fulfills all my needs, why should I change?”

“Because you worry about me ending up alone when it’s most likely gonna be you.” Harry gives him a look, but it doesn’t seem to affect him. He shrugs it off easily.

“Difference is that I like being alone, but you don’t. You are wired to have a partner in the long run while I’m perfectly fine with my adventures. So do me a favor, and be less of a little hermit. You’ll thank me later.”

Niall’s words stick to Harry’s head more than he would have liked it. The two friends stay at the bar until about midnight and while Harry leaves to go straight home, Niall heads to another direction with the pretty waitress on his arm, who served their drinks relentlessly all night.

Arriving back home Harry tips the driver generously before heading inside, seeing that you’re still up, the lights in the living room and the TV illuminating the area. Walking further inside he spots you cozied up on the couch, a thick blanket thrown over yourself as you watch some kind of detective documentary, chewing on your bottom lip in focus. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips at the sight of you, taking just a split second to savor the moment and wrap it up in his mind.

“Hey, why are you still up?” he questions walking inside. Your eyes tear away from the screen, blinking up at him as you smile slightly, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Rounding the couch Harry joins you, sitting down as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Got caught up a little,” you chuckle, nodding your head towards the TV. “Did you have a good time?”

“As much as it’s possible to have a good time with Niall around,” he chuckles, making you smile.

“He is not that bad, is he?”

“He can be a little asshole sometimes,” he admits. “But it was fine, we had a nice… talk.”

“I’m glad,” you smile sheepishly, before turning back to the TV.

Harry’s eyes snap to the screen as well, but he is not following the case at all, his mind is busy thinking about everything Niall has told him.

It really has been three long and torturous years without his beloved wife and just as Niall said, the beginning of this time was almost lethal. He never thought there would be a day when he would wake up and not feel like curling up into a ball and just cry all day. Those times are now gone, because with a lot of help from his friends, family and even a therapist, he was able to find his purpose in life again: his daughter.

Harry knows that his friend is right, he can’t live his life on his own, that’s just not how he is built, but it’s not as easy as it seems. Especially with the haunting thoughts he has been harboring, kept away from everyone in his life, because he has always been too afraid to say them out loud. That would make them become even realer than they already feel to him.

Sitting on the couch next to Harry you glance at him for a second and can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Everything alright?” you softly ask. His green eyes flicker over to you, as if he is debating whether he should talk or not.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you nod.

“But it’s kind of personal.”

“Okay, then ask and I’ll decide if I want to answer or not,” you chuckle softly, pushing yourself up a little so you can focus on him better.

“After things ended with your… ex, when you found out that he was cheating on you… How long did it take you to get back out to the field, if you know what I mean.”

His question surprises you, it really is a personal matter and you’re not sure why he felt the need to ask you about it especially now, but you have a guess why it’s relatable for him. You lost someone you loved and though the situation is a very different nature, somehow it’s still similar in a way.

“Well, I told you earlier that it was the kind of situation where I blamed myself for what he did,” you start off and Harry nods, patiently and curiously listening to what you are saying. “I was convinced that he cheated because I wasn’t enough, because I didn’t give him everything he wanted and that it was all my fault. It took me weeks to see clearly and realize that even if I wasn’t giving him everything, it wouldn’t have given him the right to cheat on me. Sometimes it’s really hard to lift the blame off yourself, especially when you were the one putting it there.”

Harry’s lips part at your words and because he is not speaking, you’re not sure if it’s the good or bad kind. You really wish you could just read his honest thoughts, but it seems like he is keeping them to himself so you continue.

“I think it took me a good, like… four months to actually move on. I went on a date for the first time about six months after Keith and I broke up. I’m not saying I’m over the fact that I was cheated on, but it’s not stopping me anymore to live my life. I had to accept that just because of what happened, I still deserve happiness and to be loved.”

Love is a beautiful thing, but it’s very powerful and you learned it the hard way. To love and be loved is essential, love makes life so much better and more special, but it can also scar you terribly and leave you dried out and in pain. You have to learn to accept the love you get and remember it whenever you are not getting enough. It’s a rollercoaster, but the highs make the whole ride worth it.

Harry stays silent as you turn your attention back at the TV, seeing that he is busy chewing on your words. Whatever his reason was to ask you, he is clearly processing the answer he got, making his own conclusions and you wouldn’t want to bother him while he does that.

The documentary soon ends and you realize how late it really is. Saturday is your day off, but you don’t want to sleep through the whole thing, you have a few errands to run. So switching the TV off you fold the blanket and drop it into the basket next to the couch. Harry snaps out of his thoughts when you stand up from the couch, realizing that you’ve shut the TV off already.

“I’m going to bed, you should too,” you smile at him softly as he nods, standing up as well.

You’re already on the stairs when Harry calls out after you. Turning around you keep one foot on the next step, glancing over at him, still standing by the couch.

“I’m… I’m really sorry he couldn’t appreciate you.”

You smile at him warmly, because it says so much about him as a person. Apologizing for something he had absolutely no control over, something someone else did, someone he doesn’t even know. Yet he still felt the need to say sorry.

“It’s alright. I’ll find the person who’ll give me the love I deserve,” you tell him before turning back around and walking away.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I���m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[readerstories]

I’m sorry- Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Idk if angry was the emotion you wanted, but for some reason that is what I was feeling like writing this time. Also, I cannot keep stuff with Hotch short apparently. (AO3)

Warnings/tags: established relationship, angst, fighting, hurt/comfort, Hotch being an ass, happy ending

Wordcount: 2696

Request: I was wondering if you could do a hotch x BAU!reader where Hotch says something in the heat of an argument and the reader gets super emotional and Hotch just tries to apologize and make it up to reader. Thank you💕💕

Sometimes, injuries happen at work.

You had done a quick assessment in the field, making a hard decision when you needed to. Going in without much backup had been a risk you chose to take.

Being hit in the head with an old briefcase that has metal edges had not been a possibility you had foreseen, but it happened anyways.

You had rounded a corner in the unsub’s home, gun raised and yelling his name, and he had gotten a good knock on your forehead. You had been dazed for a few seconds, but managed to tackle him and cuff him anyway, reading him his rights as you did so.

The hard edge of the briefcase had hit your forehead, making a small gash, which was not deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit like head wounds tend to do. It’s running down your face as you get the unsub up on his feet, so you have to close your left eye and wipe at it as you lead the cuffed man outside.

Once outside you hand him over to an officer, who gives your head a glance, but doesn’t ask as you turn away from him as he starts to lead the unsub towards a car.

Rossi spots where he’s talking to Hotch and the police chief and points towards the ambulance standing close. You nod, and wipe at your face with the edge of your jacket sleeve, catching Hotch turning around to look at you too, but you don’t catch the worried look in his eyes.

Walking over to the ambulance, you’re guided to sit on the back as one of the paramedics cleans you up.

Even though it looked bad with the blood, the clean up goes quick, and they say you won’t even need stitches.

And luckily no concussion either.

A few butterfly strips get applied to your forehead and you are allowed to go with a promise that you will take it easy for at least a day or two.

You’re asked if you have anyone to stay with just in case and you nod as an answer, the adrenaline of it all wearing off as you stand up and yawn. The paramedic smiles and wishes you good night, you do the same to them.

Joining Aaron at his car, he doesn’t say anything, his mouth in a thin line as he looks at the strips now adorning your forehead. Both of you had agreed from the start to keep PDA to a minimum at work, but you wish he would at least say or do something.

Ask you if you’re fine.

Hold your hand maybe.

Comment on how you should change out of your bloodied jacket.

Something.

Something other than the stony silence that follows you into the car.

It takes a few minutes of Aaron driving towards Quantico before anything is said.

“You were reckless.”

“I made a decision on the spot and it backfired a little, yes, but I was hardly reckless.”

“If he had a gun-”

“I would have disarmed him or shot him first.”

“You couldn’t stop a briefcase, you think you could do a gun?” Getting irritated, you glare at Aaron.

“Yes.” You grit out.

“You sure?”

“Aaron, what the fuck is this?” You see him clench at the wheel, his knuckles turning whiter as he concentrates on driving for a few seconds before answering you.

“You need a debrief.”

“Yes, from Rossi, at the office, not like this.” He scoffs, glancing at you briefly before locking his gaze back on the road. You see his jaw clench, but he doesn’t answer you, so you don’t say anything either.

Neither of you speak again until you’re back at headquarters. Aaron beelines for his office, and you’re hot on his heels, not paying any attention to the rest of the team already gathered at the bullpen.

“Aaron-” You try to speak as you close the door behind you, but he interrupts you.

“You should take a week off.” You stare at him as he rummages through some papers on his desk, not even looking at you as he speaks. “One paid week off should do you good. After all this.” He gestures at you and finally looks away from the papers again.

“Hotch, if this was anyone else, you would let them come back after a day to sleep in.” Aaron sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you.” His voice is angry, but simmering with tiredness just beneath the surface.

The silence in the room as you don’t even give an answer to the statement is deafening. There’s a look in your eyes that he never wished to see directed at him.

Ice cold anger. Mixed with disappointment, and something else he can’t quite place. Sadness perhaps?

You unclip your gun from your holster, placing it on his desk with your badge.

“See you in a week, Hotchner.” The use of his full last name hurts, you might as well have used bullets.

You don’t let him give you any response to your statement, opening the door and striding out of his office, not slamming the door behind you as much as you want to. Your steps down to you desk are fast, as fast as they can be without fully running.

You gather your things quickly, ignoring the rest of your team.

Morgan tries to stop you with a hand on your shoulder, but you evade him with a glare, making him back off.

All the things you need on your person, you’re out of the glass door seconds later. You slam on the elevator button, debating on just taking the stairs to run off some steam while also getting out of here.

Rossi joins you as you wait, and you hear him open his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“If you try to say something to get me to stay, I swear to god, I will put you on the ground.” Your words and glare makes Rossi’s eyebrows rise, but he keeps his mouth shut and takes a few steps away from you.

Finally the elevator doors open and you get in, pushing the button for the parking garage and the button to close the door faster in quick succession. With one last glare at the bullpen the elevator door closes in front of your face.

While you try your damnedest to set a new speed record for leaving the building, Rossi goes back to the bullpen, where the rest of the team sends him questioning glances.

“What even happened?” Morgan wonders out loud. “I’ve never seen them so angry before.”

“I don’t know.” Rossi is looking at Hotch, who is moving around in his office, partly shielded by the blinds. Everyone is looking between each other and Hotch’s office, the first one daring to go up there ends up being Rossi.

He knocks softly on the door with a knuckle, making Hotch look up from where he is standing next to his desk and reading some paperwork in his hand.

“You want to talk?” Hotch scoffs, putting the papers down on the desk.

“I’m fine.” Rossi closes the door behind him.

“But they clearly weren’t, so come on, spill. What did you do?” Hotch clenches his jaw, sparing a glance down at the bullpen, where the rest of the team tries to pretend they’re busy.

“I told them to take a paid week off, they protested, I insisted.” Hotch sighs as Rossi scoffs.

“For such a smart man you sure are dumb sometimes.” Hotch’s head snaps back by the comment, looking like he wants to answer and defend himself, but Rossi holds up a hand to stop him.

“You messed up. You must have known telling them to take a week off just for this was a bad call.”

“I didn’t.” Hotch's eyes are like steel, but there’s hurt hiding behind, if it’s at Rossi’s words or your actions he doesn’t know.

“But it was. Fuck Aaron, what are you even still doing here?” Hotch squints his eyes at Rossi, who throws his hands up into the air.

“You should be running after them and begging them to forgive you for doing the wrong thing. Preferably with their favorite flowers and candy in hand, or some sort of gesture, because this-” He gestures at Hotch and your gun and badge on his desk, “Is not good for anyone.” Hotch watches him for a few seconds.

“Rossi-”

“Just go Aaron.” Seemingly making up his mind, Hotch gathers his stuff, only stopping right next to Rossi and giving him a glance.

“I-” Rossi pats Hotch’s shoulder.

“Someone had to knock some sense into you. Go.” Hotch nods, out the door in seconds. The team watches him go, neither of them saying anything before Hotch is gone and Rossi joins them in the bullpen.

“They going to be okay?” Morgan asks.

“Let’s hope so.” Rossi answers, staring at the glass doors.

“I hate when people fight.” Garcia says quietly as Morgan pulls her into a side-hug.

----

You don’t know if you should even be driving right now, but can’t find it in yourself to care or think too much about it.

You just need to get somewhere where you can be alone and clear your head. Somewhere there’s less people and more open space.

And lucky for you, you know just the spot.

Almost on auto-pilot, you drive your truck away from work, heading out on the main road, not driving for long until you turn onto a small side road. It can barely even be called that, small and uneven as it is, but it’s no problem for you truck where you drive it with sure hands.

You end up in a clearing near the water, a small beach barely touched or seen by anyone else, except maybe the occasional hiker. You debate going down to the water, but instead you park your truck with its back towards it, flipping the tailgate down so you can sit on it.

Jumping up to sit on the tailgate, you pull out the newly bought pack of smokes and lighter from your pocket. You had quit years ago, but tonight seems like a good idea for bad habits, you think to yourself as you light one.

Taking a drag, you can already tell you will regret it later with the aftertaste you know it leaves, but you continue smoking nonetheless. 

Turning some old candy wrapper in your pocket into an improvised ashtray and putting it on the right side of you, one cigarette turns into two, soon morphing into a third.

It’s just seconds after lighting your forth cigarette that you hear another car approach. Which is odd, because you were certain few people know about this place, but you’re not too worried, your private gun resting in the back of your pants a comforting weight.

The car rounds the last bend of the small road, coming to a stop not too far from you, lights illuminating your truck and the beach beyond. Turning to look, you’re almost blinded by the lights, but they are quickly shut off as the car is turned off, and you realize you know the car.

Aaron’s car.

You snort.

The trip out here from the main road couldn’t have been comfortable for his car, or for Aaron.

Good.

You turn back around just as the driver door starts to open, and you ignore the sound of Aaron’s steps in the dirt in favor of taking another drag of your cigarette and staring into the water.

Aaron comes around your truck, leaning against your truck’s tailgate on your left, keeping his distance. He places a plastic grocery bag in the space between you. It makes a dull thud and despite you trying to ignore it, you find yourself curious.

“Peace offering.” Aaron explains as you eye the bag. You reach over and push at the top of the bag so you can peek inside. A couple of your favorite snacks, drinks, and a DVD with the logo of a movie you had talked about wanting to see. You push the bag behind you into the truck bed, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“How did you find me?” You don’t look at Aaron just yet, but you can tell he is looking at you.

“You told me about this place a few months ago and how you go here to relax sometimes and I- I just thought with how I acted-” Aaron sighs. He holds out his hand just in your field of vision, gesture clear. You give him your cigarette, watching him for the first time since he arrived as he takes a drag, letting the smoke lazily spill out from his lips with practiced ease.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I had a phase in college.” He offers, taking another drag before giving the cigarette back to you. You take a drag yourself, letting the silence linger for a moment before you speak.

“You know you were being stupid.”

“Yes.” You’re just slightly surprised with how there is no hesitation in the one-word answer, but you’re a little content as well.

“If it had been anyone else in the team you wouldn’t have reacted that way.” Aaron sighs, putting his arms back on the tailgate, using them as leverage to hoist himself up so he’s sitting on the tailgate too, still keeping his distance.

“No one else in the team are you.” You wait for him to say more, taking a last drag of your cigarette, putting it out with the three others in the candy wrapper.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron admits, but you still don’t say anything. “I was acting and thinking like your significant other, and not your boss. I let my worry get the best of me, and I tried to find a way to shield you from any further harm in what little way I could by telling you to take a week off.” You nod, at least seeing his reasoning a bit clearer now.

“I’m not taking it.”

“You are but-” He holds up a hand before you can protest and glare at him too hard “-but so am I.” You blink, staring at him for a few seconds.

“You are?” He nods, and you lean forward to place the back of your hand on his forehead. He almost jolts at your touch, but doesn’t move away.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking if you have a fever.” Hotch scoffs, but a small smile peaks through as you let your hand fall down. He felt fine, and other than looking a bit tired and very sorry, he looks fine too.

Hotch takes your hand in his, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles and you can’t help the fond smile on your face.

“I’m sorry.” He offers up again, letting go of your hand in favor of moving closer so he can put an arm around your waist and lean his head on your shoulder as you look at the water again. You hum, turning your head ever so slightly so you can kiss the top of your head. You can’t see the little shy smile on Aaron’s face, but you can almost hear it in his almost hopeful voice as he speaks.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” You hum, moving your hand to rest on his knee.

“Mostly. But you are the only one doing chores this week.”

“That’s alright with me, as long as I get to spend time with you.” His hand on your jaw turns your head towards him, letting him give a brief kiss to your lips, and then a feather light one just below the butterfly strips on your forehead.

“You’re a fool Aaron.”

“I’m only a fool for you.”

“Cheesy.” You roll your eyes at him with a smile as you get down from the tailgate, Aaron joining you, standing close so he can give you another kiss.

“Always.” He says with a grin, making his eyes light up and you can’t help but kiss him.

[quixotic-writer]

Sugar Daddy

request: anon

summary: When you first met Q, you had virtually no clue who he was. After a few more pricey dates, he revealed his occupation. Showering you with gifts was his love language, you weren’t about to complain!

warning: smut ahead!

——————————————————————————

The alarm on my phone goes off as it vibrates on my bedside table. My face was mushed into the pillow that my head was resting on, I started coming to and realizing that if I hit snooze once, it would start a cycle until noon and I would be even grumpier and sluggish. I take a deep breath in and grab my phone to turn the alarm off. As I rub my eyes and sit up, I see a text notification and my heart immediately kickstarts. It was from Bri.

B Bear: Hey baby <3 Got work today?

I smile from ear to ear as I see the message. We had been dating for a while now and I was hopelessly in love with him. He was honestly perfect to me in every way. He had a sweet and loving personality, he was super funny and always had this way of making me laugh, he was geeky in the cutest way and loved showing me all his collectibles and telling me all about them, and he was protective and super caring.

The way he shows his love to me is what melts my heart the most. His protective nature got the best of him at a bar we went to together and he ended up throwing his drink in the face of a guy that wouldn’t leave me alone. We got escorted out of the bar and he kept saying sorry that he wasn’t there sooner. Any day I'm sad or in a bit of a mood, he always goes out of his way to make me laugh or smile until I forget what I was even mad about in the first place. Lastly, he constantly showers me with gifts.

Me: Good morning! No work today. Have the day off

I texted him back with a smile as I watched the little thought bubble pop up until his next message came through.

B Bear: Dinner tonight then? Murr has been pestering me endlessly about this restaurant he and Melyssa had gone to and I think it’s about time I see what the fuss is all about

Me: Sounds good!

Just then a notification came in. Brian had sent me money, and it was not at all a small amount.

B Bear: Buy yourself a new dress for tonight then princess. It’s a little more formal wear.

B Bear: I’ll pick you up at 7. Love you

Now, when I first started dating Brian, I had no clue he was on TV or any bit famous at all. When he started treating me to more extravagant gifts and dates, that’s when I asked and he revealed all to me. I felt bad and was always trying to pay for things so he didn’t think I was using him for his money, but he always insisted on paying.

“Princess, we’ve been together for how long? I know you wouldn’t use me. Let me do this for you.” He would always say. After a while, I gave up the fight and just allowed him to treat me. Soon enough I grew a collection of gorgeous jewelry, a whole new wardrobe basically filled with a variety of name brand outfits, and if I so much as mention something I own being broken he is quick to hop on it and pay to have it fixed. At this point, I really do think he is my sugar daddy, and he wasn’t at all opposed to that label. He quite liked it.

Me: You spoil me too much. I’ll see you at 7 then B <3

I throw the covers off of me and make my way to the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of cereal before I get started on my day. What a way to wake up honestly, but I was not at all complaining. I finished up breakfast and got myself cleaned up, gathered up all my things in my purse, and was out the door and headed to the mall to go and treat myself. I often worried that maybe my closet was getting a little too full, I just couldn’t bear to part with any of my outfits. The way Brian made me feel when I wore each one of them made me feel so attached to them too, even if his way of saying I looked good in it was by having it end up on his bedroom floor.

I walked through the mall, doing a little bit of window shopping at first, scoping out the scene and feeling out what I might indulge myself in today as far as fashion went. Sundresses had caught my eye, especially one that was in the window and on display; Flowing, knee length, and white. I passed it by but made sure to take a mental picture of it. As much as I adored having a sort of allowance from Bri, I wasn’t about to abuse it. Besides, that would have been yet another thing I would have to make some kind of room for in my already overstuffed closet.

‘Maybe I could bother him for a bigger closet renovation,’ I joked to myself with a smile. I continue walking through and I see it from a distance: the lingerie store. I subtly bit my lip and was then in a mental tug of war of ‘should I?’ or ‘should I not?’ But as I got closer, the temptation took over and I found myself perusing through their cutest pieces that caught my eye. The least I could do to pay Bri back for the fancy evening, would be to give him a little bit of eye candy and a good time after the meal. Black lace, gorgeous ivory teddies, sensual cherry red garter belts, it was all so nice. After finding a few cute sets, I placed them on hold because I still had a main mission in mind that I came to the mall for in the first place.

I found the perfect dress: A wine red halter top dress. It had a gorgeous waist that hugged a little at my own to give my body some definition and gorgeously flowed down to my knees. I already knew I had the perfect pair of stilettos to go with this to truly complete this boss bitch look I had going. When I returned to the lingerie store, I already knew which set was going to be mine: black lace strapless top with matching high waist garter belt and panties to complete it all.

Me: [img attch.] picked out a cute little something, can’t wait to see you daddy ;P

I had sent him a picture of my dress, nothing more just to keep an element of surprise for the evening. I wasn’t long before I got a response,

B Bear: You look so gorgeous baby

B Bear: Can’t believe someone so beautiful is all mine

Even through text he could get me to blush.

The rest of my day was spent relaxing, catching up on some reading that I had put off for so long, catching up on a few episodes of a series Bess had gotten me sucked into, and just like that, time flew quickly. I was getting myself all dolled up for dinner, butterflies in my stomach because of the excitement I felt and giddy because I had felt so pretty tonight. It wasn’t often where my confidence and self-esteem would sky rocket like this, so I took it in and embraced as much of that energy as I could.

I heard his little knock at the door, the same rhythm as always so I knew it was him. When I swung open the door, he stood there with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He cleaned up super well as always.

“You. Look. Incredible.” He scooped me into his arms and littered my face with kisses and I giggled as his stubble tickled the skin on my face. When I stopped him, I connected our lips together, “Shall we get rolling then princess?” I nodded and we walked down to his car.

The restaurant was gorgeous to say the least. Dim golden lighting, waiters wearing tuxes, glimmering chandeliers dangling from the ceiling to illuminate the tables. Even the air felt expensive. I tensed while we were sitting at our table and looking through the menu, even though he’s taken me to countless luxurious locations, I still felt this sense of guilt for being there and almost an obligation to monetarily repay him somehow someway. I guess he could sense my tension because his hand had found its way to my wrist, his thumb stroking my skin gently and his eyes spoke volumes.

‘It’s okay.’ was all I could see in them. He never had to say a word and I felt my muscles relax again as we carried out with our meal.

Dinner was more perfect than I could ever imagine. Perhaps I had an untrained palette, but everything felt like an explosion of intense rhythmic flavor in my mouth. I savored each and every bite. I felt more relaxed as the meal went on, especially as Brian and I talked throughout the meal, we would occasionally break the snooty facade to share a laugh at something absolutely crude that would pop into our heads. I swear, because of how loud we were getting, I almost thought we were going to get kicked out… Which made us laugh even harder and get that much closer to that being a reality as other tables would shoot us a nasty high-class glare.

Our meal was settled away as once again Brian got a hold of the check. And once again I didn’t bother fighting and allowed him to treat me knowing in my head that I had much bigger plans for him once we got behind closed doors and had no one around but each other.

The car ride to his place was spent laughing at how disgusted people looked with our behavior.

“Nothing but sticks up their asses!” He said with his accent coming through thickly.

His hand was on my thigh the whole way there. He would snatch occasional glances of me at red lights or when traffic was pretty clear. The rough warmth of his palm was enough to start an inferno on my skin and cause me to bite my lip and shift in my seat.

We got to his place, he took my hand, and led me through the space that has grown so familiar to me.

“As much as I love that dress on you, I want it off as soon as possible.” He whispered in my ear as we made our way through the front door. His lips attached itself to whatever flesh was within reach which made me grow wetter by the second. His hands traced about my body, refamiliarizing himself with each curve, dip, and fold he craved. His hands were never rough, they smoothed over my body carefully, almost as if I was fragile, something delicate, it made me feel protected.

As we were in the bedroom, he was quick to undo the zipper to my dress and allow it to pool at my feet. The way his eyes lit up at what was now revealed to be hidden beneath my dress was a look that always drove me crazy.

“Did a little extra shopping today with the extra money, daddy.” I said as I pushed him to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes full of hunger and awe.

“I need to give you more money for lingerie. You look so fucking hot.” I straddled his lap, mouths attached and moving with heated passion. His coat fell away as I began tugging at his tie and the buttons on his dress shirt. I could still taste remnants of dinner on his tongue, delectable, indulgent, and I savored it all. My mouth began to move; jawline, neck, chest, stomach. I could smell where he sprayed his cologne, and I stayed where the scent was the strongest, drunk on his scent as my desire for him grew heavier with each breath. His hands held me closer to his bare skin as he let a low hum verberate within his chest. I fell away down between his legs onto my knees. He watches carefully, already out of breath and straining in his pants. I carefully remove his belt, take the zipper down with my teeth, and shed away another layer of clothes. I rub my hand over the cloth of his boxers where his straining erection was prominent, I felt him twitch at my touch and groan.

“Let me pay you back for dinner. How does that sound?” Just like a leaf in fall, the final clothing item was shed away, leaving Brian bare before me. He sat there, arms behind him pushed into the comforter of the bed for support as he eagerly anticipated my next moves, hoping it would be one that would satisfy the lustful desire he had coursing through him.

I kiss at his thighs, leaving a few love marks to show that despite being his, he was also mine. My head and hands find their way below, down to his balls where I carefully massaged them and sucked at the sensitive skin. The groans and moans that Brian was making was enough to tell me that he was enjoying himself. I began moving myself up again, kissing up along his shaft, tracing along veins with a pointed tongue and feeling him pulse beneath me as my hands ran along his thighs that would occasionally tense when I hit just the right spot. When I reached the head, I could see the pre-cum seeping out. I gave his cock a nice pump that sent more spilling out and I was quick to lick it all up.

“Baby, no more teasing. Please.” He begged brushing my hair carefully out of the way. I looked up at him with an innocent sparkle in my eyes,

“But I know you love how it feels daddy.” With a sharp inhale and his lip caught between his teeth, I finally took the first few inches of his cock into my mouth, pulling away while sucking, only to have it pop out of my mouth. I looked up at him and he was gasping for breath and his legs were trembling. I swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock before once more taking him into my mouth, only to repeat this cycle. I just adored hearing his whines, seeing the veins in his arms pop as he gripped the sheets into a tight fist, feeling his thighs tense and squeeze slightly together anytime a shockwave of pleasure was sent through his body.

I decided he endured enough and began carefully taking more and more of him into my mouth, head bobbing in steady rhythm. “Feels… So fucking good.” He breathed out as one of his hands made its way to the back of my head. He never pushed me further than I could go, or at all. His hand just rested on my head as though he was feeling the rhythm and pace of my head bobbing. The taste of pre-cum began getting more and more consistent, the way his legs began to tremble, “Princess, so close.” I could have came myself hearing his throat raw with desperation as he said those three words. I doubled down and took him all in. His cock hit the back of my throat and the tip of my nose hit his naval until his thighs came together and he was spilling down my throat.

My eyes were watering and my nose slightly runny, but it was always rewarding to see him so pleasured all because of me. He pulled me up and his lips were once more attached to my skin, littering the delicate flesh where my neck and my shoulder met with love bites of varying hues.

“Mine,” He would grunt whenever his lips would depart from my skin and then go right back.

He laid me delicately on my back and I felt his cock – still rock hard – resting against my thigh as he kissed my forehead, “Love you,” he says before kissing my lips, “so perfect,” his fingers pushed the panties I wore aside, not even bothering to remove them which honestly made it all so much hotter, “my princess.” He slid into me easily, filling me whole as my eyes rolled back at the sensation, lips parted as humid breath left my lungs.

“Daddy.” I couldn’t let out anymore as my nerves all stood on end as he began to rock his hips steadily into mine.

“You feel so good around my cock. Something so perfect is all mine.” I wrapped my legs around him, beckoning him closer and deeper. The way his cock curved hit all my sensitive spots and it wasn’t long before I was seeing stars, the noises that wanted so badly to break free past my lips but fell stuck within my throat as I was blissed out in pleasure. My muscles tightened around his cock as I experienced pure euphoria, “god you feel even better when you cum all over my cock sweetheart.” his hips continued working and I felt overstimulated, but I absolutely loved it. “Came that hard and I didn’t even have to touch your clit.”

As my body rocked, but boobs started spilling out of the strapless bra. Brian took notice and was quick to crane his neck down and lick around my hardened nipple. He licked, sucked, and lightly bit around the sensitive buds which only added to the extreme pleasure I was experiencing as my body started building up to another orgasm. I held his head in close with a desire to be as close to him as physically possible, aching to feel every inch of his skin, wanting nothing more but for him to feel exactly what I feel: Lustful love.

His hips started working faster and faster and his rhythm was slowly losing any trace of precise tempo. His hand slipped between us, fingers working at my clit and sending me over the edge once again with a cry.

“Princess… Gonna cum again. Where?” He couldn’t even get a full sentence out as he grit his teeth and words were quickly replaced with grunts.

“Cum daddy. Just do it. Wanna make you feel good!” I said as his head was buried in my shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck bracing for his inevitable climax. With a few more harsh thrusts, he was buried deep within me as I felt warm spurts filling me, my legs holding us close together, intertwined as we pant and catch our breaths.

“I love you so much baby. I love you.” He said with a final kiss and our foreheads pressed together.

Once he had come down from his high, he went and grabbed a towel for me and helped clean me up.

“Thank you for tonight.” I said softly as he held me close in his arms.

“Anything for you princess. You deserve the world.” He kissed the top of my head and brushed my hair out of my face. “You have amazing taste in lingerie also.”

[wonjaekook]

Residual Starshine

Pairing:  Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

Description: You’ve experienced plenty of irritations in your life. For better or for worse, none of them are quite like Nakamoto Yuta.

Word Count: 19.3k

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers ; fluff, smut, touch of angst

Warnings: my first published full blown smut scene (only one towards the end, nothing crazy), sexual references?, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Mingyu appears as a somewhat bad character in this, but I absolutely don’t think of him that way. As always, this is entirely fictional. If you want one song to vibe to while reading this, I was listening to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees a lot :-) this is the longest fic I’ve ever written and the first one containing smut that I’ve ever published, so please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @junglewoos​ @insomni-writing​ @neowritingsnet​

This is my contribution to @/leesmrk’s sports collab, but she deactivated (Dee I miss you) so @lucas-wongs​ has compiled the masterlist in her stead! The link to the master post with all other submissions is in my masterlist.

You didn’t expect to be spending your first morning before classes with your face smashed into your pillow, pressing the cotton over your ears. Yesterday morning had been perfectly lovely - you slept a solid eight hours and you only awoke to the beautiful morning sunshine greeting you through your blinds.  All things considered, it was a very natural wake-up. However, the loud J-rock blaring through the floor from the apartment below you is the exact opposite of natural. Perhaps the music isn’t as loud as you perceive it to be, but you happen to take things quite personally when you’re woken up an hour early.

Except, you don’t take it personally enough that you force your body out of bed. Instead, you allow yourself to let out a loud groan of annoyance before you pull your covers over your head. Thankfully, the music shuts off about five minutes later and you drift back off to sleep.

When you awaken again an hour later, the sunlight coming into your room doesn’t seem nearly as friendly as it did yesterday. Still, this time you do force yourself to get up. You go through your usual routine - bathroom, change into your running clothes, and stretch. You hear no sounds of any stirring from your roommates as you get ready. It’s somewhat of a relief to have the apartment to yourself in the morning. You put your headphones in and step out of the apartment, trying to get yourself in the zone with your workout playlist while also doing a quick look around to see if anyone is out. One set of stairs and you’re at the door leading out of the small complex - a building with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. Outside on the step leading to the sidewalk and there’s still no one around. Without a second of hesitation more, you’re off at a light jog. Half of the apartments in this area of your campus are dedicated to student athletes and there’s nothing you dread more than running, quite literally, into someone who’s by far your superior at this activity and who would judge you. As you run, the thought of your lower neighbor comes to you. You wake up early to go run - but they woke up earlier. At that thought, a frown subconsciously makes its way to your face. Shooting a quick prayer to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone, you continue on.

Though you hadn’t started running until this summer, you know your campus well enough in the years you’ve been here to find a nice path. That also means that, when you see pairs of runners ahead of you, you can make unexpected turns to avoid passing them. At one point, you veer out of the way of a pack of people who you assume is the running club. About forty five minutes later, you’re sweaty and more physically exhausted than when you had left, but the energy thrumming in your veins leaves you with a deep sense of satisfaction. You had successfully avoided every person you had come across on your run and-

You nearly open the door of your complex into one of your neighbors. Acting on reflex, you step back and dip your head, avoiding looking at him. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s alright.” His voice is a smooth rumble and you look up, briefly forgetting about your sweaty and near-unpresentable state. He looks freshly showered, his skin smooth and just slightly sunkissed. Based on his physique, you would have guessed that he’s a student athlete, but his hair seems a little too long to match the stereotype. It’s a bit of a mane, a dark mop sitting atop the throne of his handsome face, and you think it suits him. As your eyes drift from his hair to his eyes to his nose and finally to his mouth, which has been set into the crooked angle of a smirk, it dawns on you that you’re checking him out very openly. Your face, already warm from exercise, turns blazing hot. After all of the hard work you went through to avoid embarrassing yourself this morning… “You’re cute, too, don’t worry.”

Several very intrusive thoughts come to you at once. By his very specific phrasing, he thinks you’re attractive. He also knows he’s attractive. The warmth of the complement fades to indignation at his cockiness. You press your mouth into a thin line and lower your head again, not making eye contact with him as you slip past him through the door. You’re not sure if his gaze follows you as you march back up the stairs to your apartment.

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

One of your roommates, Sowon, is lounging on your sofa as you sit at the small table in your shared living room, grinding the pen in your hand into your planner in frustration. It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun casting lines of shadows through your blinds, and you’re still hung up on what happened earlier. Sowon is also perfectly aware that you’re exaggerating, but she encourages you to continue. “The soccer neighbors or the volleyball neighbors?”

“Of course it’s one of the soccer neighbors! The volleyball neighbors would never do this to me.” You huff, eying the nearly empty container of cookies on the table.

“You’re aware that Johnny just brought those over so he had an excuse to hit on Yein, right?” Sowon releases a strand of hair that she had just idly wrapped around a finger, watching it twirl in the air. Your second roommate only sighs at the mention of her name, but doesn’t deny it.

“And Doyoung was the one who actually made them. So, by association, I am entitled to an equal share of cookies.” You consider Doyoung a friend - you shared a chemistry class with him once and he seemed to tolerate your presence, even enjoy it at times. He even sends you the occasional text still. “That doesn’t mean Yein isn’t going to be the one to give the container back, though.”

Yein frowns and opens her mouth but Sowon raises a finger to stop her. “Y/N is correct.”

With a shake of her head, Yein turns her attention back to you. “You were talking about the soccer neighbor?”

After you explain the situation as truthfully and dramatically as possible to them, they look at each other once before looking back at you. Sowon speaks first. “He’s definitely flirting.”

“Or he’s just like that naturally.” Yein counters. “Who flirts at eight in the morning?”

“You’d be surprised.” After you say that, her words sink in. You ran into him at eight in the morning, when he was looking refreshed. He’s a member of the soccer team, meaning he probably exercises in the morning. He also has pretty stereotypical rocker hair. “Holy shit, he’s the asshole who was blasting J-rock through the floor this morning!”

“Okay, never mind. He is a jerk.” Sowon wrinkles her nose.

“Was it at least good J-rock?” Yein prods.

You shrug. “It was alright, I guess. But that’s besides the point!” You slam your planner closed. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.”

For several days, as classes start, you still get in your morning run and, each day, without fail, you’re woken up by the boy’s J-rock about an hour early. You fail to catch him at any time of the day until, finally, you’re on your way out of the apartment one morning. As you pull open the door, you nearly ram into him once again, though the situation is reversed. He’s the one who’s sweaty and warm, headphones firmly in his ears. That changes as he smirks, popping them out at the sight of you in the door. “So, we meet again.”

“Uh-huh.” You take the position of a displeased mother about to lecture a child, your arms crossed over your chest as you block the door. “You know, I have words for you.”

“Wow, already? People usually don’t have words for me until at least the third time we’ve met. Well, at least not more than a few choice ones like-”

You cut him off before he can inflate his own ego more. “Stop playing music so loud at six in the morning.”

He tilts his head like he’s confused, but the way his lips are quirked up tells you that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Baseless accusations. Maybe you should take this up with Jaehyun or Kun. I would never do such a thing.”

“Come on. I know it’s you.” The look you give him is entirely unamused, so he relents slightly, the smile falling from his face.

“What are you gonna do, report me to housing?” Before you can reply that, yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, he continues. “I’ll tell them about the parties you and your roommates have. I’m sure they’d love coming out here at 3 AM one day just to tell you to keep it down. Almost as much as they’d love to come to my door at 6 to do the same.”

He starts walking towards the door and you turn your body inward, allowing him passage while silently fuming. “You-”

“My name is Nakamoto Yuta. You can say that if you need something to scream.” He gifts you a sly wink as he unlocks his door and lets himself in, leaving you so bewildered that you can’t think of a response at all.

“Stop messing with the soccer boys.” Sowon immediately reprimands you after you recount what happened. “You know the school will punish us before they punish them.”

“Yeah, and if this is your way of flirting, you need to think of something better.” Yein adds from the connected kitchen, tossing the stir-fry in her pan. “I’m not risking getting kicked out because you decided to mess with the soccer team’s star player.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he was really upset about the interaction. He seemed amused by my reaction.” You slump down, your forehead resting on the table. “And I didn’t know who he was until he said his name.”

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

“And I don’t want him to.” You cut off Sowon. “I’ll just… deal with it.”

You get one more peaceful morning of running alone before, two days after you had first talked to him, Nakamoto Yuta comes jogging up to you. You don’t hear him at first. Music blares in your earbuds, drowning out most of the background noise of the morning, and your heartbeat in your ears fills out the parts of your internal sound profile that your music doesn’t quite reach. He comes up behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin when you see the figure of another person jogging in your peripherals. Your pace falters, but you immediately try to right yourself and regain momentum, praying he’ll just pass by you without saying anything. Except he doesn’t leave. With an internal sigh, you turn your head towards him. He offers you a grin and air-taps over his ear. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you pull out your headphones. “What?”

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

You contemplate shutting your eyes so that you can purposefully trip and eject yourself from this conversation. “I guess.”

“It’s soccer season. You know that, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, but nod. “Our first game is coming up soon.” You don’t like where this is going. “You should come.” “You must be hard-pressed for attendees to be randomly asking your neighbor to come to your game.” You reach for your earbuds again.

“Hold on, hold on.” You pause, then immediately wonder why you’re even giving him the time of day. Still, you relent for a moment. “If you come to the game this Saturday, I’ll stop playing music so loud when I wake up.”

“If you were a kind and courteous neighbor, you would just do that without having to threaten me to go to one of your games. And,” you state flatly, “I’ve already been to enough soccer games for the rest of my life, thank you very much.”

As you jog away, he doesn’t try to stop you again, but you could swear that he seems the slightest bit disappointed.

The next morning is more of the same as usual. The same loud J-rock that wakes you up an hour early, your same run, your same shower and breakfast and classes. You consider shifting your sleep schedule so that you wake up at the same time as Yuta, though you dismiss the idea because why should you change your lifestyle to adjust for his? You’d rather suffer the early wakeup.

Except, two days after he asks you to come to one of his games, the music stops. That first morning, you wake up at your usual time. You’re prepared to be upset at Yuta waking you early again, but when your foggy morning brain processes that you had woken up to your own alarm and not his music, you lie there confused. When you go out for your run not long after, you almost hope that you’ll run into him. There’s no way he’s just being nice is there? He has to be sick or something. To your disappointment, you don't run into him and you’re just stuck in your confusion. This goes on for three more days and each day you become more perplexed.

As you’re returning to your apartment after your classes that Friday, someone holds the door for you as you approach. “Thanks-” you start, then see who’s holding it for you. “-oh! Jaehyun!”

“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” You smile at him, nodding firmly. You’re almost surprised that he remembers your name because you’d only chatted once before, back when you were moving in. He’s perfectly polite, almost shy-seeming, and completely different from his roommate. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just getting back from classes.” Thinking of his roommate… “I was actually wondering, um…” He gives you a confused look, waiting for you to continue. “Is Yuta doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” Jaehyun hadn’t been aware that you were at all acquainted with his roommate.

You appear equally as confused as he does. “Oh, I… never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your next game?”

He brightens up at that. “It’s a home game. Tomorrow at six, don’t miss it!”

You return his smile. “Great, thanks, Jaehyun! I’ll see you around?” He sends you off with a wave before you go your separate ways, entering your respective apartments.

Should you actually go to his game? You don’t owe him anything, you never agreed to his deal, but he did stop playing his music so loud. You’re not really doing anything on Saturday either… maybe you’ll bug Sowon and Yein so that they’ll come with you.

That evening, the apartment below yours is particularly busy. All of the soccer boys are home - Yuta, Jaehyun, Kun - and the volleyball and art boys are also over - Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng. After all, as Johnny says, Friday nights are for the boys. Conversation flows from school to girls to boys to soccer, upon which Jaehyun shares a very interesting observation with his friends.

“By the way, it seems like you have another admirer, Yuta.” Jaehyun says as he takes a swig of his soju, recently acquired from the nearby Korean market and grossly overpriced.

“Sure,” Yuta responds, rolling his eyes, “who would that be?”

“You know that girl from upstairs? Y/N? She asked about you today and then asked me about our next game.”

“We haven’t even had our first game and you’re already collecting fangirls? Come on, Yuta,” Kun chimes in this time, breaking away from his conversation with Sicheng about their shared organic chemistry class.

“That can’t be right,” Yuta says, leaning back into the couch, “L/N Y/N? I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I tried to make a deal with her to get her to come to the game and she just brushed me off.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t just hate people for no reason. What did you do?”

Yuta raises his hands defensively and half-glares at him. “I didn’t do anything! I was just being myself and she decided to hate me.”

“The star-player, cocky version of yourself or the normal version of yourself?” Doyoung says, looking entirely unamused.

Yuta thinks back to all of the encounters he’s had with you and cringes slightly. “Listen, she was the one who was checking me out first-”

“Stupid.” Doyoung shakes his head before taking a sip of the water he’s drinking. “Some people take well to forwardness, but not her.”

“Are you sure? Because if she’s asked after me, I think that means she likes it.”

“I am going to spike a ball into your head, you-”

“Guys, calm down,” Sicheng says with a rather flat tone. Instantly, the two bickering boys stop, resorting to glaring at each other. Jaehyun gently shoves his roommate to get his attention and the room quickly returns to normal. Later, Doyoung passes Yuta a new bottle once his has run out, so he knows that the younger was never truly angry at him. The small party doesn’t go long into the night - tomorrow’s the first game of the season, after all - and, surprisingly, there isn’t much noise from their upstairs neighbor either.

That is mostly thanks to you. You had convinced your two party-addicted friends to attend someone else’s get together instead of hosting their own, so you ushered them out of the house at around ten in the evening. You know that they’ll come back fine in a few hours, rumpled and with their makeup half sweated off, buzzing with alcohol and the blaring music of whatever houseparty they were invited to, but you still tell them that your phone will be off of silent in case they need anything. Previous semesters, you might have gone with them, but, now, you just want to sleep so you can wake up early and go on your usual run.

The morning comes with your sleep uninterrupted by your roommates. After you awaken, instead of lying in bed and contemplating life for a while, you drag yourself up and to their rooms, where you find each of them peacefully asleep in their beds. Yein bothered to change out of her party clothes and into pajamas while Sowon didn’t, her dress half off of her shoulder and bunched up under her butt. Both of them are snoring away, hugging pillows and blankets.

The relief of seeing your roommates in good condition adds a spring to your step. A few minutes later, after you’ve stretched on the floor of your bedroom, you’re halfway out the outside door of the complex when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You know who it is even before you turn around.

“Y/N,” Yuta says, grinning much too brightly for how early it is. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out yet, which is strange. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

“Perfectly!” As he talks, you begin to move farther out the door. Down one step. Down two steps. On the sidewalk. “Do you want to run together?”

“Shouldn’t you be just coming back from doing that?” You pull out your phone.

He quickly matches his stride to yours. “I decided to start running an hour later on the weekends. You know, sleep in a bit since I have the time.”

“I’m happy for you.” You select a song and put one ear of your headphones in.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” In all honesty, you feel like you should be more irritated with him than you actually are. He’s at least amusing to talk to. Plus, he stopped waking you up an hour early without you even promising to come to his game.

“Yeah, but then you asked Jaehyun about it.”

You stop moving, turning to look at him. He has another one of those infuriating smirks on his face and all of your previous enjoyment flies out the window. “Maybe I’m a huge fan of his.”

“What position does he play?”

“I don’t have to answer that!” Now, your face is already warming and you haven’t even begun your exercise. You turn away from him again and begin to slowly jog. “Bye, Yuta.”

“He’s a midfielder! And I’m a forward! You can see today at the game!” He calls after you as you get farther away, his voice getting more distant. Part of you feels bad for your neighbors - the windows aren’t exactly soundproof. You just wave a hand back at him in dismissal. A minute later, you look behind you. To your great relief, and mild surprise, he isn’t following you. He went the complete opposite direction.

“Will you guys please come with me? I promise some of the guys on the team are hot.” You tug on Sowon’s sleeve like a child does to their mother when they want something.

“I thought you hated college soccer because of your brother.” She flips a page in her textbook, scribbling down something in her notes.

“I don’t think this one will be so bad. Our team is supposed to be really good this year, right?” You look hopefully at her.

“How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? Today is their first game.” She stops attempting to study, looking at you. “Also, I’m messing around. I’ll go with you.”

You look at your other roommate, who is in the middle of the very exhaustive task of sitting on your sofa and scrolling through her phone. She gives you a thumbs up. “As long as I can put on face paint!”

A couple hours later, you find yourselves in the bleachers surrounding the soccer field. It’s a modest stadium, not a stadium at all but just a normal soccer field with bleachers on either side and some decently sized flood lights for night usage. Not too far away is a moderately sized building that is a shared locker room space for all of the school’s athletic teams. Your school never invested much of its funds into soccer until recently, largely thanks to Yuta and some of the other members who are in their third or fourth year playing who made a name for your university in the sport. You also suspect that they probably talked the ear off of the provost so that he finally agreed to give them more funding, but that’s just a personal guess.

From your place on the home side of the bleachers, you have total vision of the field. Both teams are running warm-up drills and it’s easy enough to spot the people you know: someone from your physics class named Mingyu, someone you remember from a party named Baekho, and your lower neighbors, Jaehyun, Kun, and, of course, Yuta. His hair is pulled back from his face in a small ponytail at the back of his head and a small version of your university’s lion mascot stands out proudly on his red jersey.

You purposefully make a point to look for him last, only to find that he’s completely focused. Though it’s just shooting drills, he seems like he’s entirely in the zone, his eyes sharp and calculated. From what you can tell. The physical distance between you isn’t huge, but you can’t read his expressions that well from this angle.

The sharp scream of a whistle being blown indicates that there’s five minutes until the start of the game. The teams both do a bit of last minute stretching as they gather around the coach, a man you recognize as a biology professor. Finally, just as the clock hits six, they squeeze closer together, arms slung over each others’ shoulders in a tight circle, and do some sort of indistinct chant that ends in something like “Go Lions!”

After they break away, you can see the shift in atmosphere. Everyone is completely serious. It’s the first game of the season and they aren’t going to destroy the reputation they’ve built up for the last three years. You watch as Jaehyun moves to his position as a midfielder, Kun moves to his position as defense, and Yuta lines up in the position of forward center. A coin flip gives the kick-off to the away team, a school with a hawk mascot. Everyone shifts slightly on their feet and, for a moment, the world seems to be silent. The crowd leans forward in their seats.

Then, the whistle is blown.

The game gets to a roaring start. From how cautiously the other team is playing, they seem to know the reputation of the Lions - a team that shot up out of nowhere and suddenly has one of the best forwards in college soccer. You find yourself grinning as the ball barely makes it past your team’s defensive midfielder Mingyu before it’s in the Lions’ metaphorical hands. Your midfielders carefully juggle the ball between them, passing and passing and passing, before it reaches Jaehyun at center midfield. He does his job quickly and efficiently, making it almost look easy, and the ball meets the half-tip. From there, the ball is stolen by one of the Hawks’ defense at a failed pass to the second striker, Baekho. The ball shoots all the way to midfield.

For a few tense minutes, you watch the players run back and forth across the field, their eyes never leaving the target. The game pauses every so often when the ball gets kicked out of bounds, but it always resumes with just as much vigor. About a quarter of the way through the game, Yuta finally has his breakthrough. Jaehyun lands a kick directly in his direction, giving him the perfect opportunity. The strike is clean and so fast that you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t glued to the movements of the ball. All of the people on your side of the bleachers launch to their feet in roaring cheers as the ball sails past the opponent goalie’s right side and into the net. You’re standing alongside everyone else, your hands cupped around your mouth as you yell in excitement. It’s not often that you see such a well done shot from a college team.

The boil of the crowd’s blood dies down a bit as the game continues, but soars back up whenever something particularly exciting happens. In the third quarter, the Hawks manage to land a goal on your team, but Yuta comes in clutch a few minutes later and scores two easy goals almost one after the other. The final score is deeply satisfying at 3:1.

The opposing team try to be good sports about it, but they’re obviously sulking when they shake your team’s hands. After they break away, they’re all gloriously sweaty, which you’re sure Sowon is excited about. Some of the spectators immediately rush out of the stands and make their way down, friends and significant others of the players, you presume. Part of you wants to go down there and be a part of the excitement. Luckily enough, a distraction comes in the form of some of your other neighbors before you’re forced to make any decisions.

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

When you turn, you see Johnny and Doyoung approaching. Yein stiffens slightly and you nearly start laughing at your friend’s embarrassed behavior. Sowon greets them first. “Hi, guys.”

“I didn’t know you guys were into soccer?” Johnny asks, his eyes shifting easily from Sowon to you to Yein, where they remain.

“Not really! But Y/N wanted to go today.” In her nervousness, Yein easily exposes you.

“I wasn’t the only one who wanted to go,” you huff, crossing your arms. Doyoung and Johnny exchange a look that makes you want to change the subject. “I guess you guys are here to support some friends?”

“Yup, Yuta, Kun, and Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, looking towards the field, where some of their other friends are already gathered around the star player. “They played really well. It’ll be a good season.”

“I hope so,” Sowon says, also watching.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you guys from them,” you say, wanting to eject yourself from the conversation before it turns in a different direction. To your displeasure, Johnny is a master of knowing exactly what you don’t want and then doing it anyways. You’ve never really talked to him before, but it seems that he’s similar to Yuta in that way.

“Why don’t we all go say hi?” The tall boy says, grinning. “You guys can tell me how those cookies were, too.”

There is no escape. Now, as you follow them down the bleachers, you reflect Yein in a way. She no longer looks quite as nervous, eagerly chatting with Johnny, while you grow increasingly more fidgety. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Yuta. You just don’t want to give in to whatever game the two of you silently decided you were playing.

Then again, it is much more fun to play along than it is to outright reject him. Plus, today’s actual game was good. You’ll give him that.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, you join the small crowd surrounding Yuta. If you thought he glowed normally, he absolutely shines now. There’s something about him being in his element at the very top of his game that makes you forget your irritation with him for a moment. In that instant, he’s a star. In that instant, he reminds you of your brother. Then, he spots you and opens his mouth.

“Y/N!” As he calls out to you, the girl he was talking to before you arrived seems perturbed, but he ignores her, pushing his way closer to you. “You actually came.”

You turn your nose up at him slightly. “No one ever said it was for you.”

“Of course not. You and I both know the truth, though.” The wink is nowhere near subtle or sly and you scoff at him. He seems unbothered. “This was your first Lions game, right? Did you enjoy it?”

You nod hesitantly. “I heard you guys were good, but I didn’t know how good. You played a near perfect game.”

The self-satisfied smile drops from his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What do you mean?” Tilting your head, you match his somewhat grim face.

“There’s always better plays to make, better places to have been. You know.” He quickly tries to play it off like he’s uninterested rather than deeply bothered. You’re not sure you know what the truth is. You haven’t talked to him nearly enough to know. This is the first hint of something serious that he’s shown you. It almost makes you want to talk to him more to find out.

“Dude, shut up, you’re good.” From the side, Johnny butts in, elbowing his friend. You’re glad for the interruption, as you once again didn’t know what to say. The mood raises, with some of Yuta’s friends reenacting the best parts of the game, joking about his long hair, betting on what next week’s game will look like. A few minutes later, the Lions’ coach shouts for all of the team members to go shower and get changed, so the crowd slowly disperses.

After you’re alone with your roommates, Sowon and Yein can’t help but give you playful shoves as you walk home. Sowon is the first to verbalize her amusement. “I thought you hated him?”

You grumble under your breath, not saying anything in particular.

“You played a near perfect game.” Yein mimics, making your face burn.

“I do not sound like that! Also, I know a good game when I see one and I know when to admit it!” You kick your shoe against the pavement as they giggle at you.

From then on, it seems like you run into Yuta far too often for your own good. Every few days, you bump into him when you’re either about to go run or when you’re coming back from running. When you go with Yein to return Johnny’s cookie container, Yuta is in his apartment, lounging on the sofa and chatting with Jungwoo, your third volleyball neighbor. Once, when you’re studying at the school library because you need a change of scenery from your apartment, he runs into you. That time, you snap at him.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended.  “What do you mean? If anything you’re the one stalking me. I come here every Thursday after practice to study.” He huffs. “If you’re talking about when I was in Johnny’s apartment, I was already there before you even arrived. Unless you’re accusing me of being psychic, too.”

Your shoulders slowly lower at the guilt you feel. Cringing slightly, you raise your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply…” You sigh. “Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to apologize?”

Only after Yuta’s mock hurt shifts to a triumphant look do you realize the implications of your words. You’re really on a roll with implications today. He grins. “If you really want to.”

As you pack up your things, Yuta tells the few teammates he had come to study with that he’s going, and you walk out of the library side by side. Luckily, he actually makes for easy conversation and good company. You don’t know why he insists on the flirting and cockiness in your shorter interactions. As you walk to the campus coffee shop, you learn that he’s a studio art major. He learns that you’re a physical therapy major. You learn that he’s taking a statistics class that you had already previously taken - he put it off while you got it done in your first year - and, without thinking, you offer to help him if he needs it. After you order both of your coffees, finding out that he likes a lighter roast, you sit at a table in the shop with him. Silence comes and goes as both of you do some of the studying that you intended to do at the library. Every so often, he asks you a question. Usually, you answer him. You always return with a question of your own. You find out that his favorite of the bands that he used to blast through the floor is One Ok Rock.

“Sorry,” he finally says, appearing genuinely remorseful with the sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t have upstairs neighbors last year. I didn’t know you could hear it through the floor.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I snapped at you back then.”

It’s very strange to be on perfectly good terms with Nakamoto Yuta.

A few days later, when your brother sends you a ticket for the local professional soccer team, the Ravens, you almost feel like you should ask for a second so you can bring Yuta. Figuring it would be too much to ask, you plan to go by yourself, thankful that the game falls on a day the Lions aren’t playing. Plus, you can’t imagine what your roommates would say if you chose to go out of your way to take him with you.

You’ve taken to hanging out with the long-haired center forward, helping him with his math when he needs it and just… generally enjoying his company. That doesn’t mean you’re all sugar and smiles to him - it’s much more fun to mess around a little, make him think that you don’t like him quite as much as you actually do. The only thing you can think of that would personally offend him would be to say you’re going to one of his games and then failing to do so.

On the bus ride over to the stadium where the Ravens are playing, you’re thankful that you don’t recognize anyone from your school. You’re in the team’s colors, silver and forest green, and it would be clear to anyone where you’re going. Only after you get off of the bus do you realize just how many came to watch. The stadium is full, packed to almost capacity. That’s probably why your brother hadn’t gotten you tickets earlier - all of them were taken. He probably gave tickets to the earlier games to your parents. They would have thrown a fit if he had only invited you earlier, even if you are his favorite.

As you make your way to your seat, you remark on how strange it is to see your last name printed on the backs of the shirts of a bunch of strangers. The vibe of the crowd is completely different from that at your school’s field. While college students are excitable and energetic, these spectators are rabid. At any moment, there’s one hundred people yelling, someone trying to start a chant, someone screaming just for the sake of it. The air is buzzing with the anticipation of the crowd.

There’s a moment of sudden thick silence, like the moment before a dam is about to burst, where the crowd is silent. Then, both teams are stepping out onto the field and the stadium explodes. In the middle of the line of the eleven Ravens players, like he’s trying to blend in even though half of the crowd is chanting his name, is your brother. There’s a coin flip and it’s decided that the Ravens will start. He gets into his position, forward center, and the audience takes another breath.

You’re on the edge of your seat. Half of the game you’re standing. There’s a thrill about the experience that makes you so invigorated and proud beyond belief. If it had been strange seeing your last name on the backs of fans’ jerseys, it’s just as weird hearing the announcer say your brother’s name as he scores. If Yuta had been residual starshine, your brother is a shot of pure gold. He has long given up trying to make himself small where he glows the brightest, smiling as the whistle is blown for halftime. His teammates slap each other on the back when they go for water. Just as the game is about to resume, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket once. You figure that whoever is texting you can wait.

The other team makes a comeback in the second half, scoring on the Ravens and tying the score. You feel a bit bad for the goalie, a guy you know as Kim Yongsuk, who your brother had introduced you to in the past. He’s probably beating himself up over it. Still, the team doesn’t falter, doesn’t repeat their mistakes. It’s a hard game - from how close you are, you can almost see everyone breathing hard. Finally, with just a few minutes left to spare, the ball travels smoothly from the Ravens’ defensive line, to the midfielders, to the offense. Once it’s in your brother’s possession, it’s over. He shoots and he scores.

To be fair to the other team, they try to recover, but it’s just not enough. Time is called and it ends 2:1. The Ravens have won. You find yourself clapping and cheering with the other fans, shouting your elation to the huge stadium. As things begin to wind down and the teams shake hands, people begin to trickle out of the stadium. A satisfied hum is in the air, leaving a smile on your face, too. Perhaps soccer games are the reason you like parties, too. The warm, excited atmosphere, the noise, forgetting about the outside world to become absorbed in something else.

Finally, reality calls again after all of the players filter out to their respective locker rooms. You pull out your phone, about to send a text to your brother. However, when your phone comes to life, the first thing you see is a text from Yuta.

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

An instant later, right on cue, you hear his voice. “Y/N!” Upon looking up, he’s bounding down the aisles towards you, also donning forest green and silver. Watching him weave through the rest of the people trying to leave, you wouldn’t be surprised if he would have slid down the railing if there weren’t other people there. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for him to reach you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, smiling slightly. You’re in too good of a mood to outright lie to him.

He blinks. “I thought you hated watching soccer.”

You hold your hands behind your back, swaying playfully. For once, he’s the confused one. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I really enjoy seeing the Ravens play.”

“But… you said…” He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say you’ve seen enough soccer games to last your whole life already, or something?” “I changed my mind.” Your phone buzzes in your hand.

B/N: You still in the stands? I’m coming up.

At that, you freeze. Yuta nudges you. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You’ve kept the fact that your brother is the Ravens’ star striker away from everyone, besides your roommates, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yuta would react if he found how. What would he think of you? “You can head out without me, Yuta. I’m waiting for someone.” The concerned expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you sure? It’s kind of late-”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, I’m-”

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see your brother jumping the gate blocking off the entrance to the field from the stands. Most of the stadium has cleared out by now, ushered out by staff, leaving very few people. Your brother has a hoodie on with his team’s colors, the hood up and partially blocking his face from distant onlookers nonetheless. You cringe internally as he jogs up to you, not seeming tired at all, and you greet him as he engulfs you in a warm hug. “Hi, B/N.”

“I’m glad you could make it. It’s not often that I get to play for my favorite sibling.” You’re looking at your brother, but you’re sure that Yuta has a shocked look on his face as he connects the dots. Now that your brother has directly stated who he is to you, there’s no avoiding it. He looks past you and realizes that you’re not alone. “Who’s this?”

“I…” Now that you’re actually looking at Yuta, you realize he’s entirely starstruck. He looks like he’s stuck in one place, his eyes wider than normal and full of awe.

You take over for him. “This is Yuta. He’s my friend from school and our team’s center forward.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m B/N! Since Y/N finally decided to show her face at her own team’s games, I heard you guys are doing well this year. Go Lions!” He raises a fist, giving Yuta a sunny smile.

Yuta blinks hard, looking almost like he might pass out. “Y-yeah. We’re doing alright, I guess. Thank you for your support.” He reflexively dips into a shallow bow, making your brother chuckle.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” He elbows you not-so-gently. “Y/N! Tell me next time you want to bring him. I’ll throw in a second ticket.”

Yuta unfreezes a bit and looks at you. “You don’t bring Yein or Sowon?”

You shrug. “I don’t like to bring only one of them. It feels unfair to the other.”

“Still, I’m glad to see that you’re not lying about having at least one friend.” Your brother gives you a wicked grin and heat fills your cheeks.

“I have friends!” You insist, clenching your fists at your side.

“Do you?” Yuta teases, making you press your lips together in a look of indignation.

Before you can counter him, your brother interjects. “I hate to part with the two of you, but I have to leave.” He steps back, waving a hand at the two of you. “See you!” “I hope you stub your toe on the way out!” You shout back at him as he retreats.

“Hey, this toe is worth a lot of money! Love you, too!”

There’s a period of silence as you watch your brother disappear. Yuta clears his throat. “Do you want to go back?”

“Yeah.” You follow him wordlessly for a while, making your way out of the stadium. He walks by your side, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem upset, just a bit shocked still. As you approach the bus stop, you finally speak up. “Did you come with anyone else?”

“Some of the guys from the team. I told them to go ahead without me so I could talk to you.” Of all the things he’s ever said, that makes your heart feel strange. A tiny flutter of a butterfly’s wings, if you will.

Then, as you make it to the bus shelter, you turn to him, grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve. “Yuta, promise you won’t be weird after this?”

He blinks, not fighting your grip. “Why would I be weird?”

“Just… I don’t really tell people about my brother. I don’t want you to think any differently about me because of it.” This level of vulnerability isn’t something you usually show and it feels foreign, unfamiliar. When you told Sowon and Yein about it, it didn’t feel this way. Yet, standing under the shelter with Yuta, his deep green sleeve in your hand, his eyes on yours, the light of the city falling faintly on your faces, you feel your heart pound even harder in your chest.

“I already liked you before I ever knew that.” He reaches up oh so slowly. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Touch your cheek, pat your head, kiss you? Before you can find out, the bus pulls up with a loud exhale, spewing exhaust. The doors open and the driver looks at you expectantly as you turn and get in. Yuta follows you, silent. Both of you pay your dues and sit down, side by side, his sleeve brushing yours.

You know exactly what it is about him that drives you insane. At the same time, you have no idea. While you don’t want things to be different with him after tonight, you also desperately wish for the opposite. You’re tempted to slap yourself in the face to try and wake yourself up from whatever strange dream you’re happening, but you don’t know how the boy next to you would react.

The ride passes excruciatingly slowly, as does the short walk back to your complex. Finally, as you’re standing in the stairwell, about to part ways with him, he speaks. “Do you want to study together tomorrow?”

At that, such a normal suggestion, you smile. “Sure.”

He reflects your expression. It’s a familiar look on him, which you’re grateful for. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day is entirely ordinary. It’s like the previous night never happened. Yuta is perfectly normal, perfectly flirty, perfectly infuriating. In fact, the entire week after is normal. You go to the Lions game, cheer on your neighbors, and pretend to be difficult with Yuta after the game. He’s always so hard on himself after his games, remarking on what he believes are the many things he could have done differently to play a better game, despite scoring all of the team’s goals and securing wins every time. You hope that you talking to him afterwards raises his spirits just as much as you enjoy it.

Then, one Saturday, you’re out running when Yuta jogs up to you. Once again, he scares the shit out of you, making you nearly trip. “Hey, Y/N.”

You tear out your headphones, giving him a look. “Have you tried not jumpscaring me?”

The shrug he gives you looks strange, as he’s jogging slowly next to you when he attempts to emote. “It’s kind of funny.” You grumble under breath about showing him what’s funny, and he continues. “Do you want to run together on the weekends?”

“This again?” You say, frowning.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re lonely. Since you come out to my games, I thought I should do you some sort of favor in return.”

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

“Anyways, you’re in luck because I also don’t have a running partner. It’s a lot easier to set a pace and keep moving if you have someone with you.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you’re running, you’re at your most vulnerable - sweaty, tired, out of your element. There’s plenty of reasons you shouldn’t want him to run with you. “You have to run so much faster than I do. I would just slow you down.”

“Not really,” he says, looking at your feet as you jog next to him, “see? We’re both doing fine right now.”

You realize that he’s right. You keep moving wordlessly for a minute, until you speak quietly. “Would you really not mind?”

You focus on his hair bouncing as he takes each step for a while before you look at his face. In the morning sunlight, he gives you a pure smile. “Not at all.”

On Saturdays and Sundays, he’s waiting for you just outside of the complex at seven in the morning with his hair tied up to keep it out of his eyes. He easily matches his pace to yours. He’s always much more awake at that hour than you are, but the quiet encouragement he whispers whenever you slow down help perk you up. It takes you a little while to realize that he’s doing something very similar for you to what you do for him after his games.

It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Usually, you don’t talk a ton while you’re running together, but it seems that his curiosity has gotten the best of him. “What made you want to start running?”

“Hm?” You hum, snapped out of the world that was just your feet thudding against the ground and the sound of your breathing in your ears. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“People usually don’t just randomly start doing it. Maybe they want to get stronger or lose weight. Maybe they want to impress someone.”

“It’s not about impressing anyone. I’m doing this for me.” You say it firmly, confidently. His pace stutters and he watches you continue forward. There’s something in your voice that makes him incapable of moving, and all he can do is stare at you for a moment, his heart speeding up in his chest for reasons other than the running you’re doing. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn towards him, jogging in place. The way your face is illuminated by the sunlight being cast upon it makes him sure he’s never met someone as incredible as you before in his life. “Are you coming?”

You don’t know what’s up with him. His expression is something you’ve never seen but can’t quite place. He catches up in a few bounds and you resume your run.

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

You contemplate whether or not you should respond, but you get a second text.

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

Now, that’s strange. You start to type out a reply.

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

Kim Mingyu: I was wondering if you could help me with the lab report from last Friday? I’m having some trouble

Y/N: Sure, do you want to meet in the library later?

Meeting up with someone who you’ve never really talked to before is strange. Mingyu tries to joke with you, but something about them falls flat. You try your best to laugh and help him anyways, figuring it’s just stiffness from interacting with someone new. Though it’s nice to finally have a physics buddy, you’re almost relieved when you go home.

As you approach your complex, you see a small group formed on the lawn outside. Sicheng and Ten are standing on one leg, holding the other leg up and trying to knock each other down. A small smile comes to your face when you realize that Yuta is in the group, cheering for his friends. Around the same time you see him, he sees you and his eyes light up. He’s quickly getting to his feet and bounding towards you. Taeyong calls after him with a frown. “Yuta, you’re next!”

Still, he sidles up next to you as you walk closer to the circle. “Y/N! Where are you coming from?”

“Just the library. Actually, I was meeting up with one of your teammates, Mingyu. We were working on physics.”

The smile he wears twitches downwards for a moment. “I didn’t know you had a class with him.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning. I never talked to him before today.” You shrug, shifting the backpack on your shoulders. “What are you guys doing?”

“One-legged fight. You should join.” He suddenly has a sadistic gleam in his eye and you take a tiny step away from him.

“And give you an excuse to push me on the ground? No thanks.”

“Aw, Y/N, I’m hurt. You don’t think I would just push you if I really wanted to?” At his proclamation, you shake your head, trying to force down a smile but failing miserably. “I’m kidding, of course. I would never.”

It’s almost sunset and he looks glorious in the golden light, the sun reflecting off of his dark hair and making his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones. If you were bolder, you might say something about it. Instead, you let out a snort of laughter, looking away from him. From the circle a few yards away, cheers erupt. Ten is curled on the ground, dramatically bemoaning his loss to Sicheng, who stands proudly over him. Taking that as his cue, Yuta gives you a small wave and rejoins his group.

When you enter your apartment with a small, content smile on your face, Yein looks up from her cooking. “Good day?”

“You could say that.”

The next morning, thankfully, is a Saturday. Yuta is waiting for you, looking just as fine in the morning sun as he did in the evening rays. He’s stretching as you approach him. “It looks like it’ll be good weather for the match today.”

“It better be.” He says it lightheartedly, but you can really imagine him threatening the weather. He’s told you that he hates the rain, partly because it makes it unpleasant to play but also just because it dampens his mood. The team is lucky they’ve gotten good weather for the season so far.

As you’re running, you remember what something you needed to ask Yuta about. “Hey, are you free on Wednesday night? My brother offered me two tickets for his game.”

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, trying to keep your pace steady. “He said he would pull through, so he did. You made a good impression on him.”

“I am totally free. Completely. Did I tell you how free I am that day?” The child-like excitement in his voice makes you smile in return.

“Wow, with how not free you are, I guess I should invite someone else,” you tease and he lets out an uncharacteristic whine.

“Y/N, I know you’re messing with me, but if you take someone else after asking me, I will never forgive you.”

Now it’s your turn to pretend to be offended. “I see how much our friendship means to you, Mr. Nakamoto.”

He sighs dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead as he acts like he’s going to faint. “You’re so serious.”

You stick out your tongue at him. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“I can’t help it. Your brother is just so cool. I don’t know how you don’t try to hang out with him literally all the time.”

That gives you pause. You feel your feet connect with the earth repeatedly for a minute, thinking about your brother and your complicated but not complicated relationship. You trust Yuta with so many things, so you may as well tell him. “A few weeks ago, when I said I was only doing this for me, I lied. Just a little.” You say, not looking at him. You’ve never really admitted it out loud before. “I want to get good enough to run with my brother. I almost never see him these days, but if I can start getting up to run with him sometimes… it’ll be like when we were kids. Or something. I don’t know.”

“He’s important enough to you that you want to change something about your life to spend more time with him,” Yuta says quietly, keeping pace with you. “I hope he knows how much you care about him.”

“You don’t always need to change to show you love someone. That’s why it was only partly a lie when I said I’m only doing this for myself.” You flash Yuta a smile, which he returns. Though your lungs burn and your legs ache, the air you breathe in is cool and fresh. “I’ll race you back.”

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

The next time you see Yuta is later that day, at his game. He’s serious, as usual, in the zone. As the season goes on, the bleachers fill up more and more with students eager to see the Lions throw sparks. The games continually get harder, but they manage to clutch this one out with a final score of 3:2.

Despite the win, Yuta still seems somewhat down. Afterwards, you’re about to go up to him to describe the glorious moment when he slid between two of the opponent defenders and scored, but you’re stopped by a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N.” To your surprise, Mingyu is the one approaching you. He doesn’t take his hand away.

“Oh! Mingyu, hi.” You try to smile at him, but your eyes wander over to Yuta briefly. “Good game today! You guys played solidly.”

“Ha, thanks. Could’ve been better on my part, I’m always looking to improve, you know.”

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

“Are you possibly free on Wednesday night? We have a lab due on Friday and I just think it would be easier to do if we can work together, ya know?”

“Oh, um, I’m actually busy then.” You force yourself to not look at Yuta. “Does Thursday night work instead?”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you then.” The way he squeezes your shoulder once before stepping away to talk to some of his own friends makes your stomach turn. Why is he being so… weird?

Shaking your head, you turn back to who you had intended to greet in the first place, only to find that he had been looking at you already. What’s with the look in his eyes? Why is everyone being so weird? Ignoring the feeling, you join his circle. Yuta moves closer to your side, his arm looping around your waist as he does so, pulling you in slightly. The touch is brief but intimate, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. You swear that you can almost feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. Then, his arm is back at his side like nothing happened. You want to speak up, say what you were planning on saying before, get your mind back on a normal track, but you find that Johnny, Ten, and Jungwoo are already recreating the scene, making Yuta smile through the veil of whatever emotions he’s experiencing right now.

When the entire team heads over to the locker rooms to clean off the shine of sweat and dirt that had been accumulated through the game, you can’t help watching him. As he goes, you catch flashes of his smile while he congratulates his teammates. Something stirs in your heart.

That night, you dream of healing smiles dressed in a lion’s mane of black hair. That same visage is waiting for you the next morning when you go out to run but, here outside of your head, he’s solid, real, more than heated touches and soft caresses. At the same time, he is those things. Or, so you wish him to be.

When you study with him the next night, he is as he usually is, theoretically. Sometimes it feels like his eyes linger longer than usual, his hand rests a little closer, he smiles a little wider. It’s nothing you can confirm because, to any normal gaze, he seems entirely the same. Perhaps you’re confusing yourself into imagining things. Has his flirtatious nature finally tricked your brain into thinking he likes you?

Sometime that evening, you go to the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. You pat your face rather harshly to try and drive some sense back into your brain. You should tell him. This new boy who has become so close to you. Why are you afraid of it going wrong? You emerge from the bathroom with the same feelings that you entered it with and, there he is, looking up at your return.

The next day, Tuesday is a brief reprieve from the torture of trying to figure out his feelings through his actions. Then, your brother’s game comes. Your chatter fills the space between you on the bus ride to the stadium, him telling you about the anime he’s watching, you talking about the drama you’re watching in response. He jokes about culturing you by getting you to watch a show with him.

Watching your brother’s game with Yuta at your side is an entirely different experience. While you think you normally have pretty good commentary on your own, he provides an extra edge, excitedly explaining why some players choose to do some things or making observations about small moves that you ordinarily wouldn’t notice. Both of you absorb the atmosphere of the stadium, bursting into cheers whenever something incredible happens, screaming extra loud when your brother scores.

During halftime, when the roar of the audience is less deafening, you realize that you’ve never asked Yuta about his background with soccer before. You nudge him. “Hey, Yuta? How long have you been playing?”

He taps his chin, trying to think back. “Probably since I was five?”

“No wonder you know so much,” you say, “I’m talking to an expert right now.”

“You know too much for just a casual viewer,” he says back, snorting, “don’t tell me you don’t have some experience.”

“I only played a bit when I was younger, but I wasn’t any good. It was always more fun to watch B/N. I ended up just taking care of him whenever he pulled something or fell and scraped his arm… you know.” A wistful smile forms on your face. “It started off as just kissing bruises like my mom would, but then it turned into intense Googling whenever I couldn’t immediately figure out what was wrong with him.”

“Maybe you can kiss my boo-boos whenever I get hurt, too, then.” He’s smirking, the ever-familiar gleam of mischief in his gaze.

You force yourself to roll your eyes at him, ignoring the feeling of your heart jumping in your chest. “You’d better not get hurt, Nakamoto.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

A few minutes later, the game resumes. This matchup is considerably more difficult than the game you had attended before. Each time the Ravens seem like they’re close to scoring, the opponent defense sends it back towards your end of the field or the goalie successfully blocks it. All the same, your defense and goalie do their jobs, too, leading to a brutal back and forth. By the time the game is over, the only goal that had been scored was the single one your brother got in the first half.

“Ah, that was tense. They almost took it back there for a second.” You stand, stretching your arms behind your back to loosen them up a bit. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Yuta gets up as well, following you as you begin to climb the stairs. “Is your brother not coming to see you this time?”

“He told me he has some press deal after this.” Once you’re in a more open area, Yuta walks next to you instead of behind. You can now see that he’s frowning.

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

“I can’t imagine keeping someone like you hidden like that.” At that strange comment, you stop, looking at him. He seems to be taking the issue very personally.

“It’s easier this way. No one prying into my life, no one asking me for autographs from him all the time. People know who our parents are. What’s so important about an unknown sister?” Is there something else he wants you to say? The look on his face is something you’ve only seen maybe once or twice. He’s in a strange mood, that’s for sure.

“I get it, it’s just…” He sighs, looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yuta.” He finally meets your eyes. “It’s important to me that what people think about me is what I show them first. I don’t want to be a reflection of my brother, no matter how much I love him.”

“Is he the reason you didn’t want to talk to me at first?” There’s amusement in Yuta’s voice again, that strange seriousness gone.

You start to walk again and he keeps pace. “No, that was just because you woke me up at six in the morning.”

“I guess both of us have experiences that precede our reputations then, huh?”

The bus comes not much later. The previous reminder of how you met has him offering you one side of his earbuds, saying that this would be a better introduction to J-rock than the one you had before. As you listen, you’re tempted to lean your head against his shoulder or take his hand, which is resting oh so close to yours. Instead, you just sit still and look out the window.

After you get off of the bus, the topic of shows you both like makes a return.

“I will take it upon myself to expose you to great art. Are you free tomorrow? We have to start immediately.” Yuta begins to pester you, practically bouncing as you walk.

“Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. I’m working on physics with Mingyu again.” He doesn’t initially not react to your first statement. However, when his teammate’s name comes out of your mouth, he frowns.

“Of anyone…” The sudden change in his attitude catches you off guard. “Why him?”

“I don’t choose who’s in my classes. What’s wrong with you? I thought you got along with your teammates.” You’re nearing your complex at this point. The lamp posts bordering the sidewalk cast long shadows on the ground as you walk.

“In a team context, they’re fine. Usually. Just, that guy…” He’s scowling now, making you frown deeply in return.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He pauses, but then his feet stop moving a moment later. “Fuck it, I do know. He’s not a good person. He’s a manipulator. He’s a good manipulator, but he’s bad at lying when you actually confront him-”

“Yuta, you’re being ridiculous. Even if he is, I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

“Y/N, he was with me at that first game! The one where I found out about your brother? What if he saw? He’s the type to use information like that to get what he wants. What if he-”

“What if he what, Yuta?” You glare at him, anger muddled with some other hurt now filling you. “He hasn’t done anything. He isn’t going to do anything. Our ‘secret’ isn’t going to get out. I can take care of myself.”

With that, you brush past him, into the complex, into your apartment. Thankfully, your roommates aren’t in the common area, so you safely make it to your room. Once you’re there, you shove your face into your pillow. You consider screaming into it, but you know he’s probably in his own room, where he could hear you. Instead, you just heave breath after frustrated breath.

You don’t know why you snapped at him. Actually, you do. It’s the fear that he’s actually doing what he accused Mingyu of. After every word you’ve exchanged, every conversation, you should be confident that he’s not like that. But, you’ve never been in this situation before. What if he…

It’s a stupid notion and you know it. That’s just the surface. Another layer of your feelings peels away. You hate when people are too protective of you. You want to make your own decisions, to learn for yourself. You hate when your brother is too protective of you and you hate when Yuta is.

That’s not even all of it. Finally, you reach the root of your aggression. What right does Nakamoto Yuta have to try and be protective of you when you aren’t even together? Was that the concern of a friend or the concern of a jealous lover?

You curl in on yourself even more tightly, breathing through the pillow under your face. No one has ever flirted with you as much as he has. You’ve never been so ridiculously on and off with someone before. Still, neither of you are willing to answer the question. You’ve never actually fought like this with him before.

Perhaps he hates you now that you’ve thrown his warnings back in his face.

The next day, after your classes, you force yourself to go to the library to meet Mingyu, Yuta’s words heavy in your mind. As you work, you can tell he’s still trying desperately to get on your good side, even emanating Yuta in a strange, off-balance way. It’s not amusing when he does it.

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

“Are you a fan of the Ravens? I think I saw you at one of their games once.”

You swallow back disappointment. Mingyu is the worst fear of your insecure self and you finally have to come face to face with it. “I guess you could say that.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t take it farther than that. If Yuta’s right about him, then it’s probably just one piece of a larger goal. Though you never cared much for Mingyu, it doesn’t feel good to see things begin to unfold.

Not seeing him for two days in a row brings your mood down more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you’re not ready to apologize yet. You don’t know what exactly is happening on his end, you never know, so when you go outside to run at your normal time on Saturday, you half expect him to be there.

He isn’t. And you don’t run into him on your way back, either. The game it is, then.

As the day progresses, the sky gets increasingly cloudy. In the evening, when the Lions and their opponent team are out on the field running final drills, it’s easy enough to tell that a good number of people had looked at the forecast - the crowd in the bleachers is much thinner than usual. The sky could open up and pour its soul out onto all of you at any moment.

You don’t even bother pretending that you’re not watching Yuta. As he steps off the field for their usual pre-game pep talk and chant, you swear he makes eye contact with you. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother looking, because he’s usually confident that you’re there. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes is now.

The coin toss decides that the other team will start with the ball. That might have been the first omen about the game. Then again, maybe the other team is just… better. Their defense is at least tighter than yours. At halftime, they have a point up on the Lions, 0:1. Yuta seems to take this very, very personally. Within ten minutes of the game restarting, they tie the score back up.

At about three quarters of the way through, it begins to rain. The referee deems that they’ve played far to stop, so the match continues. Almost like they take the poor weather as a sign, the rival team scores nearly immediately after.

You pathetically huddle under a single umbrella with Sowon while Yein shares one with Johnny. The ball slips rather than flies around the field, back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, with barely any time to spare, it’s at Yuta’s feet. The world seems to move in slow motion, then. His right foot moves backwards. It swings forwards. He makes contact.

He misses.

You try not to gasp. Yuta himself seems to be in shock, with how he goes stiff for a moment. Then, he’s back in action, targeting where the goalie had thrown the ball. This time, it’s not enough. A minute later, after another brutal back and forth, the scream of the whistle soars above the sound of the rain. It’s over. The Lions have met their first loss of the season.

The two teams barely wait around to shake hands before they’re rushing off to the locker rooms, away from the rain. Yuta moves slower than the rest, seeming to drag his feet through the muddying grass. Ahead of him, all of his teammates are moving quickly, but moping nonetheless. From your position, you see Mingyu kick the shins of someone you recognize to be one of the younger players. You see Kun’s mouth move as he tells him off, but they’re far enough away and the rain is loud enough that you can’t hear. If you hadn’t been displeased already, you are now.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

“You guys can go back,” you say, taking a step out from under the umbrella after you’re out of the bleachers with your friends. When Sowon tries to shove her umbrella in your hands, you push it back. “I’ll be fine! It’s only a short distance.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t worry.” With a sigh, she turns, reluctantly walking back behind Yein and Johnny.

You take off running, trying to outpace the raindrops pelting you. By the time you make it beneath the slight sheltered roof of the locker room building, you’re damp, but not entirely soaked. It’s enough to be an annoyance, your clothes sticking slightly to your skin.

You wait outside for a good few minutes. Small groups of players from either team leave, the opponent players giving you strange looks as you lean against the wall and shiver, Baekho and his group giving you an awkward acknowledgement, and, finally, Mingyu emerges.

“Y/N?” He seems confused, but somewhat excited. As if you’re there to meet him.

“Mingyu. Answer one question for me.” You say it wearily, expressing it like the chore it is.

“What are you acting so weird for?” The excitement you glimpsed before dies.

“Were you going to use me to get in good with my brother?”

The rain is the only sound you hear for a couple solid heartbeats. “Y/N, listen…”

“He was right…” You grumble to yourself. You glare up at him. “You can do your physics labs by yourself. Delete my number.”

He stands before you for a moment more before he realizes that you’re serious. He turns and walks away, into the haze of the downpour. A minute later, Jaehyun and Kun emerge from the building.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, seeming surprised. “Are you waiting for Yuta?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The two of them exchange looks and smile. Kun speaks next. “He’s probably not coming out for a while. He usually gets all depressed when we lose a game, but I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s been standing in the shower for like fifteen minutes.”

You glance at the door. Jaehyun nudges you. “He’s the only one left in there. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you, say, went in right now.”

“A bonafide cupid right here,” Kun says, swinging the bag he has slung over his shoulder around so he can dig through it. He produces something, offering it to you. “Here.”

“What is…” You trail off as you take it from him, your face warming as you realize exactly what it is. “Kun, what is this?!”

“I don’t want any miniature versions of him running around. I’m always prepared.” You stare at Kun incredulously a beat longer before you shove the condom in your damp pocket.

“Good luck!” Jaehyun calls back to you as they begin to walk off, leaving you standing under the overhang. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and walk inside.

Unsurprisingly, the place has a somewhat sweaty smell to it. The rows of lockers are labeled with names and a little image depicting the sport the owner plays, as all of the school’s teams use the same locker room, and the occasional miscellaneous socks, gloves, and other things are scattered about. A row of sinks is against one wall and past the sinks is an entrance into the shower area. You make your way there.

As you get closer, the distinct sound of one shower running gets louder. The only curtain that’s closed is a middle stall, all of the others open and empty. Parallel to the shower stalls is a long wooden bench. “Yuta?” You call out. He doesn’t respond, so you try again. “Yuta?”

“Go away.” This time, the response is sharp and harsh. He certainly is in a mood.

“Yuta, it’s me.”

“Y/N?” His voice is significantly less negative now. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

You can barely hear him sigh over the sound of the shower running. “You couldn’t wait until after I was done?”

“No.” When you say that, the water shuts off. A hand sneaks out to grab the towel hanging from a hook affixed to the partition between the stalls. You don’t see anything revealing, but you look away anyways. The scraping of the rings being drawn back tells you he has emerged from the stall.

“You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.” You look back, greeted with the sight of his gloriously wet hair and bare torso. He emerged quickly enough that he didn’t have time to dry much of the water dripping off of him. The only part of his body that’s covered is his waist and thighs, though the towel still reveals a tantalizing v-line. You forcibly swallow your thirst.

“Blatantly checking me out again? I get it, but would it kill you to be less obvious?” The comment throws you back to a simpler time, when you were just irritated with him for his cockiness and blasting music through the floor.

“Speak for yourself.” You cross your arms. It was obvious enough that he was enjoying the sight of you in a wet t-shirt and shorts.

“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?” He says, frowning. He steps closer, leaving little space between you.

“I didn’t think it would cool down this much.” You look away, not able to face his bare chest quite yet. The room still has a certain steam about it from the hot shower he was taking that makes it a little harder to breathe. Then again, maybe that’s just him being mostly naked in front of you. He reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt.

“You’re soaked,” he says, rubbing your shirt between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re just making me wetter.” Your face burns something fierce as you say it, contrasting the chill that had settled over your skin from standing outside. “You would think you’d dry yourself off more before getting out of the shower.”

“I was just eager to see you, I guess.” You finally have the courage to meet his eyes again.

“I missed you this morning.” You almost pout while saying it, feeling small under his gaze. It’s not an uncomfortable smallness, but one that makes you feel closer to him.

“I figured you didn’t want to see me.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers softly over the side of your face. His touch is blissfully warm. “Or, I think that you did want to see me, but you would only be angrier if I showed up.”

The thought almost makes you laugh. It would be one of the few times he’s been wrong about your feelings. But, if he always knows so much… “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I talked to Mingyu a few minutes ago and you were right. I should have trusted you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it on your own.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You’re strong enough to deal with assholes like him. You don’t need me.”

“I might not need you, but I do want to keep you around.” The small confession has your bottom lip quivering. “Did I mess up your game today?”

“It was mostly the rain.” He sounds so nonchalant, but you can tell he’s still bothered. “Not you. But, if you do feel bad about it, Miss Physical Therapy, there is something you can do for me.”

His eyes have shifted away from their darkness into a different sort of moodiness. You step closer. “What is it?”

He moves back, taking a heavy seat on the bench. “I’m quite tense. Give me a massage.” His eyes bore into yours. “If you so choose.”

You step behind him. The thrill of what you feel like he’s implying thrums in your veins. The muscles of his shoulders and back are hard under your fingers, showing years of training and toning. You’re almost surprised at how well built his upper body is for a soccer player. His skin is beyond perfect too, and the little droplets of water from his steamy shower that settle on his skin glisten temptingly in the low light of the locker room.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” you practically whisper.

“It’s fine. Feels nice.” He wasn’t lying when he said he was tense - you can feel the knots leaving his muscles as you press down on them, dissolving into smooth flesh that’s soft to the touch. As you work along his back, one particularly tough knot has your thumbs pressing harder into him, drawing a low groan and a curse from his throat. “Fuck.”

The sound turns you on more than you’d like to admit. As you finish his back, you become even more hyper aware of the little noises he’s letting out, the space between you becoming noticeably warmer. Slowly, reluctantly, your hands leave his skin and you circle back towards his front, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. “Is that better?”

“Much.” The air feels heavy. “But you’re not done, yet.” Ordinarily, he’d be smirking so hard you’d be able to hear it in his voice, but there’s only a low command to his tone now. He reaches out, guiding your dominant hand forward so that it’s resting on the front of his shoulder. There’s no hiding from his eyes now. You decide then - if you’re going to do this, you might as well go all out. Sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of him, makes you feel both powerful and small at the same time. His face is only a breath away from your own. You swear you can see his eyes flicker to your lips. Trying to play innocent, despite the fact that you can basically feel his dick hardening under his thin towel, you shift slightly, putting your focus on his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Every so often, you readjust yourself, purposefully bouncing slightly on his lap, almost grinding down on him. He doesn’t crack, remaining still and keeping his expression flat. The only signs he gives of being aroused are the slight shiver to his breath and the prominent bulge you’re now certain you can feel. That, and the hands he has on your body, one on your hip and one on your thigh, fixing you in place.

The process is slow, arduous, but you eventually finish with his pectoral and shoulder muscles. You pull your hands away, placing them in your lap and then sitting back, unmoving on his lap, reveling in the way you’ve very clearly made him feel. “Is that all?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips again before boring into your own. “You missed one spot.” Wordlessly, he reaches up, tapping his own lips.

You could walk away right now. His hands aren’t so tight on your body that you couldn’t just get up and leave, go back to your apartment and forget this ever happened. But why would you want to? You’ve been dreaming of his lips for weeks. Finally, you’re about to get a taste. Still, there’s an edge of apprehension digging slightly in your gut.

You’ve sat in silence for long enough that he’s opening his mouth, an apology about to leave his lips, when you swoop forward, pressing your lips to his.

Where he had given you the choice to initiate, he’s the one who really leads. He almost instantly deepens the kiss, dragging you even farther up his lap, pressing you hard against his barely-shielded dick. You feel his fingertips against your skin, under the hem of your top.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, but-” Where his hands had stilled under your shirt they begin to move again. “Yuta, wait.” He freezes once more, looking up at you. If you didn’t know better, you could swear you see a little bit of fear in his eyes. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “I won’t fuck you unless you tell me you actually have feelings for me. Did you mean what you said back then? After the games?”

“Is that a requirement for all the guys you sleep with or am I special?” You can feel his cock throbbing under you and your own insides ache in response. Of course, he’s delaying what both of you want by being coy. The frustration building up in your gut and in your heart makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“Yuta…” You mean it to sound admonishing, but your tone is more akin to a whine as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. His breath stutters slightly in his lungs at the motion, but in that moment, a sort of gentleness you’ve rarely seen takes over his facade.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he breathes out, eyes locked with yours, “how could I not have feelings for you?”

You kiss him, sweetly, desperately. His hands begin to move once more, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your skin. When his hands make it to the edge of your shirt, giving you a suggestion, you cover them with your own, guiding him to take it off. As soon as the garment is out of the way, his lips are on your neck, your collar, the soft skin of your chest. He can feel the hum of your voice through your breast as you speak. “I really like you, Yuta. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

His fingers nimbly unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground somewhere. As his touch ghosts over your breasts, you arch into his hand, drawing a warm chuckle from him. “That’s good,” he says, thumbing slow circles over your nipples, “because I feel the same way about you.”

You pull him back to your mouth, pulling him as close as you possibly can, breathing him like he’s air, tasting him like he’s food. His tongue is slick against your bottom lip, against your own tongue. Almost unconsciously, you rock your hips against his bulge as you move. Impatiently, he tugs at your shorts, pulling you out of the kiss.

“These have to come off.”

“It would kill you to go slow for once,” you laugh, getting off of his lap on shaky legs.

“I go slow for you all the time,” he responds, shifting the towel at his waist, which you realize is barely holding onto him from all the grinding you were doing on his lap, “I’ve been going slow for months now. Isn’t it time to speed things up?”

You roll your eyes, but shimmy out of your shorts, leaving you in your panties and him in his towel. From this angle, he can truly appreciate you. Every curve, every beauty mark, every fold and crease on your body. He leans back, his hands bracing him against the bench. Then, he shifts forward abruptly, taking the opportunity to snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin.

“Yuta!” The cry is half an admonition, half a laugh. You move to push his shoulder gently and he catches you by the hand, pulling you on top of him and kissing you once again. Before you realize it, he has a sneaky hand slipping into your panties, touching you where you’re most sensitive, making you jolt against his hand.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs the words against your lips and you nod, trying to focus on kissing him through the pleasure of his fingers. It’s been far too long since anyone has touched you like this and you’re not used to it.

“Mm,” you moan back, “more than okay.”

He had said he wanted to go faster, but it seems like he’s just going so slow, making you fall apart on his hand, first with just a thumb on your clit, then two fingers pushed more deeply inside of you than you could ever reach yourself. At some point, you’re no longer kissing him and your cheek is pressed to his instead. You nip at his ear, which you now realize is pierced, and the damp spikeyness of his hair rests against your temple.

His free hand rests over your breast, rhythmically squeezing it as you ride his fingers. Oddly enough, you feel like he predicts your climax before even you do, working you carefully through the release of pleasure as you shudder against him and clench around his fingers. Before you can fully regain your senses, he’s kissing you again and removing his hand, wiping his sticky digits against the towel slipping from his waist. You figure you’ll finish the job, reaching down to untwist the cloth so that it falls open against the bench.

You continue kissing him as you take his dick in your hand, your thumb sliding over the precum beading at his tip. It’s his turn to shiver, his cock twitching in your hand. Giving it slow, purposeful jerks, you watch him become perfectly uncomposed under you and you grin, leaning closer to press a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He’s stiff, but remarkably soft to the touch, veiny and thick enough that your mouth waters. A couple minutes pass before he’s encasing your hand in his own, slowing your movement.

“I don’t want to come in your hand.” You stop, looking at him with faux-innocent eyes. He blinks desperately at you. “Please.”

“Can I suck you off later?” The words leave your mouth unexpectedly. You hadn’t even really been thinking about the later, but you figure you’re safe to assume that there will be one.

“Of course, pretty girl.” He strokes your hair and you can just think about him holding it back in the future as he-

Trying to distract yourself from the later and focus on the now, you slide off of his lap once again. He almost seems confused, made lonelier by the tiniest distance you put between the two of you. It’s almost a funny image, him half pouting at you while his dick is out, standing up against his abdomen and completely exposed. You let out the smallest exhale of a laugh. “You showed me yours, so I figured I would show you mine.” Your panties fall to the ground, where you kick them in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. The sight of your shorts reminds you of another important thing. “Oh! Also!”

You scramble over to them, reaching into the pocket and producing the little foil packet. Yuta stares at you. “You’re… prepared? I didn’t even think this far ahead and half the time my brain is controlled by my-”

“Kun gave it to me before I came in here,” you say, waltzing back over to him. He takes the packet from your hand, tearing it open. You… give him a hand as he rolls it on. “He’s awfully ready for a great many situations, isn’t he?”

“I think he was expecting this to happen a lot earlier than it actually did, honestly,” Yuta responds, pulling you back on top of him for the third time. Once again, your knees rest on the hard wood bench. “Can we not talk about my roommate, please?”

“I can agree to that.” You smile, kissing him. “Can we talk about how much I like you instead?”

“We can always talk about that,” he says, one hand on his dick, one on your hip, “are you ready?”

The mood dips, making your body shiver in anticipation again. “Yes.”

The way he positions his cock and begins to push into you makes both of you let out noises of relief, a groan from him and a sigh from you. You sink down onto him further until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, hard and pulsing and ungodly warm. He gives an experimental buck of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips and shaping his into a cocky smirk. “Already feel that good?”

“Shut up,” the complaint dies in your throat as you lift yourself up on your knees and sink back down again, bouncing on his lap slightly. You focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation of him hitting your G-spot, the touch of his fingers on your clit again. His breath mingles with yours whenever he takes a break from kissing you. Your hands wander the smooth planes of his chest, your thumb briefly ghosting over his nipple, your palms getting sweatier as you hold onto him. It’s not long before you let your head fall back, your thighs tense as you hold onto his shoulders and move up and down on top of his cock.

His lips are hot as he mouths your neck. You’re not usually the type for marking, but, honestly, the thought of wearing his hickey on your skin sounds beyond appealing. He introduces the slightest bit of teeth, grazing them over your pulse as you ride him. The trail of tiny nips goes down past your collarbones to your breast. Your heart beats loudly in your ears and the desperation of chasing your orgasm makes the passage of time feel fuzzy, but in the sweet, bubbly way a soda does rather than the heavy, blurry way a cold would.

“Yuta,” you whine, the knocking of your legs against the bench growing painful, “can you…”

“I got you, baby.” With a grunt, he stands, lifting you by the thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. A breath later, your back is pressed to the wall and he’s pushing into you once again. The new angle is a change, and it’s a good change. Every one of his thrusts hits exactly right, pushing you further and further until-

“Yuta, you’re gonna make me...” you pant against his mouth, breathing the same air as him. At some point, after he had picked you up, you had reconnected your lips, and he swallows the little noises you let out hungrily. You clench and unclench your fists behind his back, as your arms are slung over his shoulders.

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

All you can think as he pounds into you is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. You come undone with a final swipe of his thumb and a choked cry of his name. Once your own orgasm has stopped burning quite so bright, lowering to a comfortable simmer in your gut, his hips slow with each thrust until he pushes into you and stays there. You can feel him throb inside of you even through the condom.

Your skin feels like it’s glowing in the aftermath of his love, warm like coals after a fire has just ceased to burn. Warm with the promise of more flames in the future. You lean your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing love onto his skin. His deep, uneven breaths slow over time as he presses gentle kisses to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. The silence between you is only interrupted by the ambient sound of water flowing through pipes hidden in the concrete walls of the shower part of the locker room. That’s enough of a reminder for you to groan, clutching onto him tighter. “I can’t believe we just confessed and fucked in your sweaty locker room.”

“From my perspective, it’s more ‘wow, I can’t believe we finally confessed and fucked, even if it was in my sweaty locker room.’” That, at the very least, makes you smile. Slowly, he begins to pull out, separating from you with a sticky, wet sound. He backs up, turning so that he can place you gently on the towel still lying on the bench. He disposes of the used rubber quickly, throwing it in a trash can at one end of the room.

Now that he’s no longer touching you, it feels so much colder. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean this place. I hope they don’t find that.”

He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He makes his way back to you, naked body still on full, glorious display for your eyes only. “Wanna shower while we’re here?”

You groan. “Yuta, I’m tired. No funny business.”

“Who said anything about any ‘funny business?’ I just suggested we clean off the sweat from all that physical exertion.” He’s smirking, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You’re insatiable.” Still you get up, joining him in the shower stall that he holds open for you. If any follow up activity happens while you’re in there, the only way anyone on the outside would be able to tell would be from the quiet sounds that are mostly drowned out by the noise of the shower.

As you finally redress, accepting the hoodie that Yuta had in his locker so that you don’t have to put your wet shirt back on, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, like he’s afraid you’ll go away. The environment between you feels different, but the same. After you’re both fully dressed and start walking out the door, you reach out to take his hand. He accepts the action, interlocking his fingers with yours. Both of you stop under the overhang of the building. By now, the sun has set and a few street lights shine along the walkways of the campus through the haze of rain. “Yuta, are you my boyfriend?”

He blinks a couple times. “Wasn’t that implied?”

You turn away, suddenly shy. “I mean… I just… wanted to clarify…”

“You’re too good for me.” He laughs, then kisses your cheek. Both of you stare out of the rain, as if it’s going to suddenly stop just because you’re politely waiting for it. “I meant it. Every time.”

“Hm?”

“Every time I said I liked you, or that you’re amazing. I was just afraid of- I don’t know. That I’m not honest enough or nice enough, or even good enough at soccer. I just-” He seems so tired as he says it, so brutally truthful, so terribly self-doubting.

You squeeze his hand. “Yuta, it’s okay. Honestly, all this time, I thought you’re too good for me. You’re so much more than the things you say you are. You’re a star.”

“I’m not. I can be an asshole, and jealous, and not serious even when I should be-”

“Yuta, if you like me despite all of my ridiculous bad qualities, I’m pretty sure I can deal with a little jealousy. You’ve shown me who you are and I still like you. You’re loyal and funny and romantic and so many other things. I like you.”

He sighs sweetly, like he was holding in a breath for so long and is finally letting it out. He’s holding your hand so tightly, it feels like he might never let go. Right now, you think you might be okay with that. “Sorry. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

You peer into others’ eyes for a long time, content to just look. Then, the cold finally gets to your legs and you shiver, scooching slightly closer to him. You look out. The rain isn’t getting any better. “Do you want to run? To make up for us not going together this morning?”

He doesn’t even respond. He just glances at you, winks, and tugs at your hand, starting to go. The rain pelts you as you go, utterly soaking you, getting in your shoes, darkening your borrowed hoodie. His hair sticks to his forehead, making him look a bit like a wet kitten. Maybe a lion, more accurately. Still, in the passing lights and the sheen of the rain, he glows.

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

“Yeah?” He keeps going, keeps tugging you along. You have to work to keep up with him, pumping your legs hard.

“Do you want to go professional?”

He looks back at you quickly, but then turns forward. “I would.”

“I really think you could do it!”

Then he’s laughing, truly, mirthfully. “That’s the second best thing you’ve said to me today!”

At that, you’re laughing too, though it slows your pace, though it makes your lungs burn, though it helps rain water run into your mouth. When you make it to your complex, soaked through, looking like you just took a swim in your clothes, you don’t want to let go. Reluctantly, both of you part ways to change clothes in your respective apartments with the promise to meet soon and start Yuta’s effort to culture you with anime.

Sowon and Yein tease you relentlessly, both when you enter your apartment leaving puddles on the ground and when you leave again ten minutes later completely dry. They tease you for the next week whenever they catch you leaving if they know you don’t have classes. The next Friday, you end up staying up far too late watching one of Yuta’s shows, which you admit are at the very least fun, and you fall asleep in his bed. You’re sure you’ll never hear the end of it from your roommates, even if Yein has been staying in the volleyball boys’ apartment every other day for the last month.

In the morning, a mere three hours after you and Yuta went to sleep, you wake up in his arms to a strange blaring of J-rock. He reaches over you to slap his phone and shut it off. You stay awake just long enough to comment on how strange it is hearing the music next to you and not through the floor.

When you wake up around noon to Yuta staring at you, his bangs half covering his eyes, you flip over, checking the time so that he can’t see the absolutely embarrassed look on your face. “You’re so weird.” “Why are you being all shy? I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing more to see.”

“There’s plenty more of me to see, thank you very much, Nakamoto Yuta.”

“I know there is, darling.” His arm is still slung over your torso like it was when the alarm went off and he tries to wrestle you back around to face him. You squirm in his hold.

“Darling? You’re so weird. Why are you so weird?”

“Weird? I thought I was romantic and funny and-”

“And weird!” You wiggle more until he flips you onto your back, straddles you, and pins your hands to the bed. It’s quite an incredible sight, him pinning you down with his raven hair a complete mess and no shirt, where you can faintly see marks that you may or may not have left on his chest earlier in the week. “No fair. Home ground advantage.”

He leans in, looking ever so charming despite his disheveled appearance. “You know what makes for great morning exercise?”

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

“Running! Let’s go.” He suddenly rises up, taking one of your hands with him and pulling you into a sitting position.

“Yuta, it’s noon! There are going to be people out everywhere.” He tugs on your hand and you move so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “And it’s Saturday, so there’s going to be even more people…”

“You don’t need to worry about people judging you. If anyone gives you any funny looks, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Punt a soccer ball at their heads?” You’re standing now, looking at him uncertainly.

He shrugs. “Sure. But, seriously. I promise that you have nothing to be self conscious about. You also have me. That part most importantly.” You would smack him if the smile he gives you doesn’t have you reluctantly agreeing.

He’s right, of course. The run is completely fine. At least, you’re distracted enough by your boyfriend for it to be fine. When you return, you split off to take showers in your apartments. After you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, you find him waiting in your room. You register him saying something about the tables turning and “great afternoon exercise” before he practically pounces on you.

Afterwards, through your sex-high haze, you hear a loud knocking on your front door. Groaning, you move only so much as to press your face into Yuta’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna get up…”

“Did I make you feel that good?” His voice is a warm rumble, teasing, though full of the same tiredness that yours has. You’re about to jab him lightly in the side when his hand shifts down, two of his fingers running through your folds. Shivering at the suggestion, you wiggle closer to him, hiding your face even more.

“Let me rest, you sex-fiend.” Before he can reply, there’s a few more insistent knocks at your door. “Ugh…”

“Were you expecting someone?” You shake your head against him. He reaches over and grabs your phone. “I heard this going off earlier while we were busy.” You make no move to take it from him, so he turns it on, his eyes scanning the recent chain of texts you’d just received. “It’s your brother.”

You immediately bolt straight up. “What?” Your mind ticks back to the previous day before you’re scrambling out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot he was coming today!” As quickly as you can, you try to throw on the various items of clothing that had gotten scattered around the room in your - Yuta’s, more accurately - haste to move them off of the bed, where you had laid them out for after your shower.

Yuta stretches lazily. “Glad I could remind you.”

“Asshole, get clothes on! He’ll kill you if he figures out what we did!”

“Ah, to be killed by L/N B/N. You say ‘what we did’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“He’s my older brother, for God’s sake!” You throw a shirt at him, smacking him in the face. “He will murder you! If he doesn’t murder me for forgetting our plans first…”

“And your plans are?” He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, slipping it on.

“I’m taking him to see your game. Maybe meet the team. Who knows? You won’t be able to see it if you don’t move your ass.” You finish putting your jeans on.

“I’ve never escaped through a window before, but it sounds fun.” He’s still smirking, clearly amused. You’re certain he would actually do that if you let him.

“On second thought, just stay here. I won’t let him into my room.” Your phone lights up with your brother’s face and number and starts to buzz. You pick it up. “Sorry, I’m coming! I was napping.” You hang up. “Please, Yuta?”

He steps into his own jeans. “That’s what I was planning on. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to incapacitate myself before the game.”

With that reassurance, you close the door to your room and head for the apartment door. Your brother, clad in a hat, hoodie, and jeans, weirdly normal for him, is standing in front of your door, his phone in his hand. He narrows his eyes. “Hi, Y/N. For a second there, I really thought you forgot about our plans. Who takes a nap on a Saturday afternoon?”

You step aside, letting him in. “I was just tired today for some reason. Sorry.” “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He walks in, sliding off his shoes next to yours. “Are your roommates home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

“No, but they’ll be at the game later. You won’t miss them.” You stand there, swaying somewhat awkwardly. You’re sure that he’s noticed that you’re acting strangely. “Who let you into the lower doors?”

Your brother steps inside casually. “Your neighbor Jaehyun. Nice kid.”

“Y-Yeah. He’s one of our midfielders.”

“I guess I’ll get to see him in action soon, then. Where near here is good for something quick? We only have an hour and a half until the game.”

You’re thankful for a change in subject. “Depends what you want to eat! Think about it while I run to the bathroom?”

As you head there, you glance at your closed door. You feel kind of bad for leaving him in there, but it’s for his own protection. When you get back to the door, your brother is in the same place, staring at the shoes around the entry. He points at a pair of men’s shoes, which you realize with dawning horror are Yuta’s.

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

“Oh! Those are, um, Johnny’s. Yein’s boyfriend.”

He deadpans. “Johnny. Your neighbor. The one who lives right across from you. Who is dating your roommate who isn’t here right now.” When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Y/N, it would be a lot easier to lie to me if you didn’t tell me so much in the first place. Who’s in your room? I know you hate closing your door if you’re not sleeping.”

Reluctantly, you walk to your room, cursing observant soccer players. Yuta looks mildly surprised to see you, and you walk over to where he’s sitting on your bed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him over to your brother. If he’s afraid of your brother, he doesn’t show it.

“Yuta, was it?” He’s still expressionless. “I’ll have you know that there’s a few rules.” Before Yuta can even ask about the rules, he’s launching into a detailed explanation about consequences, saying something about maiming and making it look like an accident.

“B/N, you’re a professional now. You should really try not to say such scary stuff. Also,” you say, frowning, “I can handle myself. You know that by now.”

Yuta breaks his silence. “She really can. She’s strong enough to deal with anything.”

“You really believe that?” Your brother’s gaze is unyielding.

“I do.”

“Well, then.” He suddenly lightens up, smiling at the two of you. “Want to join us for dinner? I’m thinking noodles.”

“I actually have to get to warm-ups soon…” Yuta says regretfully.

“That’s a good boy. See, Y/N, I trust your judgement. We best be off, then.” Abruptly, your brother turns, putting his shoes back on. You scramble to join him, grabbing your things and putting your own shoes on.

“I’ll see you later?” You say to Yuta, who’s simply staring, somewhat shell shocked that he survived the encounter.

He blinks, then gives you a sort of smirk. “How about a kiss for-”

“Don’t push it.” Your brother cuts him off, standing in the doorway. He starts down the stairs. When he’s not looking, you lean over, pressing your lips to Yuta’s cheek. Before you can turn around, he sneaks one of his own onto your lips. You run after your brother.

He thoroughly grills you about Yuta during dinner, but you don’t mind. You keep out the parts about sex and the specifics of the relationship coming to fruition and he seems satisfied. You barely make it to the game in time because of your brother’s interrogation, but you still get there early enough to see some of the drills. In work mode, he crosses his arms, making approving comments about Yuta’s footwork. Your boyfriend is in a similar mood, already focused in.

Then, the game starts. The other team starts with the ball, but it makes no difference. The Lions take it back, sending it back and forth across the field, gaining and losing it, until Yuta, as usual, scores, redeeming himself from the previous week. Your brother says something under his breath about potential and skill. Through the game, the Lions make great plays and you find yourself cheering for all of them, even Mingyu. The rival team stands no chance - not for lack of skill, but simply because your team is determined. By the end of the game, the score is a solid 3:0.

You’re one of the first onto the field after the teams break away from shaking hands. You meet Yuta in the middle, jumping on him in a hug when you reach him. You can’t stop the outpouring of praise, telling him how well he played, how brilliant he was. He just laughs, telling you he did his best. It’s the most positive thing you’ve heard from him after a game.

When you let go of him, willing to let the rest of his friends surround him now, you step away in search of your brother. To your surprise, he’s chatting up the Lions’ coach, who seems somewhat flustered by the Ravens’ striker speaking to him. Before you can get close, the coach blows the whistle he has around his neck, getting the attention of everyone around him, but particularly the team.

“Boys! Gather round, we have someone here with something to say to you.”

It doesn’t take long for them to recognize who your brother is.

It’s funny seeing the team rush to your brother, some pretending to be cool, some openly fawning over him. But, there’s one person who isn’t looking at him. From across the mob forming around your brother, you make eye contact with Yuta. And, in the midst of the stars shining in the form of the Raven, the Lion’s light falls on you.

[rheawritessometimes]

A Not-So-Bad Deal

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Babysitting Childe has its ups and downs. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Injury, Physical Intimacy, Mild Spice, PDA, Not Beta Read, Barely Proof Read.

{ Notes } Reader is implied to have commitment issues. Accidental flirting, because intentional flirting is awkward and hard. Didn't explicitly state what each breakfast item was, but they're based on popular Russian breakfast foods. Ahah, not me setting myself up for yet another part?? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,955

The sentiment of spending Childe's recovery with him being a simple endeavor was quickly thrown into the garbage when you were awakened before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon to the sound of what you were sure was a break-in. Rolling out of the bed with your sword materializing in your hand was done entirely on instinct, you were still too groggy to have any proper thought. Stealthily exiting the room, you made your way to the source of the noise, the kitchen.

Needless to say, you were more than annoyed to find that the 'break in' was actually a familiar Harbinger making breakfast, tearing apart the kitchen in the process. Your sword dematerialized as you brought a hand up to massage your temples to ward off a headache. Childe was humming cheerily in the middle of the mess of ingredients and cookware, some of which you were certain had not been necessary to whatever it was he was making. There was no way that many bowls were necessary for any recipe.

The Snezhnayan flashed a bright grin when he saw you, but the gesture did nothing to ease the scowl that had settled onto your features. That didn't seem to dampen his mood in the least, he merrily continued preparing what appeared to be enough food to feed a lot more people than were currently occupying his apartment. Was he expecting a lot of company this morning?

"I thought we made a deal that involved you resting and not cooking enough to feed a small army at ass in the morning," you remarked, the sarcasm laid on thick enough to be dripping from each word. Much to your frustration, this only made him laugh as he turned the stove on.

"Well, I usually wake up early but this morning I had nothing to do since someone broke my bones. So, I decided to make a nice breakfast for my guest to enjoy with me," he responded with faux innocence, though there was laughter in his voice that easily gave him away. His words were still effective in making you feel a little guilty, so you wordlessly brought the dishes you were fairly certain he was done with to the sink and began washing them.

The two of you fell into a comfortable quiet after that, you were busy cleaning a mountain of dishes and Childe's focus was on frying a few eggs and cutting up a bowl of strawberries. You were mindful to stay out of the way as Childe cooked and he made an effort to set the cookware he was finished with beside the sink for you. The rhythm you two had quickly settled into felt startlingly domestic, something you reminded yourself not to like, and certainly not to get used to.

"Maybe I did make a little too much," the Harbinger muses somewhat sheepishly as he looks at the table he had just finished setting. It was without a doubt too much food for only two people, the table at risk of collapsing under the weight of it all. You could only nod in agreement.

"Your guard might appreciate a plate," you offered, as though one more person would make much of a difference against the mountain of food. You had to admit, everything did look delicious. The table was laid out with fried eggs, some porridge, a few sandwiches with sausage on them, what appeared to you to be some kind of crêpes, pancakes of some sort, the bowl of cut strawberries, and a kettle of tea. It would be no trouble finding people willing to eat the excess food.

"I suppose my subordinates deserve a nice breakfast," the redhead sighs dramatically, "They're lucky they have such a nice boss."

"Mhm, and if you ever fall out with the Fatui you could certainly find a job as a cook," you reply after sampling a forkful of his work. Living in Liyue had you more accustomed to chopsticks, but it was evident after going through Childe's kitchen that he did not own a pair. As a witness to his attempts at using them, you weren't very surprised by this finding. A fork was easy enough to figure out, anyway.

"I'm glad you like it," the redhead responds with a grin, quickly busying himself with his own plate. As he eats, he begins to talk about having similar breakfasts with his family in Snezhnaya. This turns into him recounting learning how to make these dishes with his mother and you quietly listen along, making the occasional comment and smiling fondly at his memories and the way he became more animated as he spoke about his family.

The sun had emerged by the time each of you had eaten what you could, and you cleared the plates while Childe ordered his guard to distribute the remaining food to his subordinates stationed in Liyue. You were halfway through cleaning the dishes when the Snezhnayan waltzed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He contented himself with watching, not bothering to even offer his assistance.

"I was thinking we should do something. I've been cooped up for too long. Maybe a casual hike up Mt. Aozang?" he suggested, causing you to pause in your ministrations and glance back at him with a raised brow. No hike up Mt. Aozang would be a casual one considering the terrain and potential enemies of the area.

"It's been less than a full day," you pointed out, "And, hm, what was it? Oh yeah, and you have a few broken ribs."

"What are a few broken ribs to a Fatui Harbinger?"

"It's a no, Childe," you firmly insisted, causing him to groan and mumble about you being a 'spoil sport'. It was easy enough to ignore him as you finished up with your small chore.

"I'm using your shower," you informed him once you turned away from the sink. He only hummed in response, still pouting against the counter. It was all you could do to not roll your eyes at his childish behavior.

"What am I even supposed to do for six weeks if I can't go out and fight things?" he whined, and this time you did roll your eyes.

"Well, maybe you can still improve your fighting," you mused, "Have you ever tried working on your strategy? Because that could definitely use some improvement."

The Harbinger huffed indignantly at your words, taking the mature route and sticking his tongue out at you as you left the kitchen to take a shower. He could pout to himself in the kitchen while you had a relaxing shower.

The apartment's bathroom was on the smaller side, but it was still easily workable and didn't feel at all cramped. You had brought with you your own toiletries, but that didn't stop you from poking around Childe's well-organized things out of curiosity. There wasn't anything of particular interest so you decided to just get cleaned up and figure out what to do for the day.

Leaving the bathroom wrapped in a towel and feeling refreshed, you made your way to the guest room to pull out something to wear for the day. You decided on something comfortable, it didn't seem like you'd be going out today anyways and if you did you could always change into something more suitable. After getting dressed and taking care of a few more things, you left the guest room in search of Childe.

It was a simple task finding the Harbinger, he was seated at the table flipping through the pages of a book. You were more than surprised to see it was a book on battle strategy, although you noted it was one focused on group tactics to be used in war organization. You supposed it shouldn't have been any great shock to find he had such books, considering his position as a Fatui Harbinger who was known for his knack for combat. But to actually find him taking your advice was not something you had expected.

"Finally done with your shower?" Childe asked, looking up from his reading, "Good, you were stinky."

His tone made it clear he was joking, and you gasped in mock offense. You both laughed at this, his cerulean eyes shining with amusement. You weren't sure you'd ever seen eyes more beautiful than his.

"Anyways, I was thinking we should go for a walk around the harbor and have a late lunch a Wanmin. Then we can just wander looking for stuff to do, or we could go out to that one boat. Or maybe Zhongli will be at the market and invite us for tea," Childe suggested, setting the book down on the table. You raised your brows at his 'plan'.

"It's been a long time since I've had any time off and I don't know what to do," he justified, crossing his arms over his chest. You only shook your head, smiling softly at his pout.

"Alright, I wouldn't mind a walk around the harbor, at least. Lunch at Wanmin sounds good too. We'll see what happens afterward," you conceded, watching his expression immediately brighten. Just a walk shouldn't be too strenuous, so you weren't terribly worried about his bones. Plus, you wouldn't be able to keep him in bed all day and this was a much better alternative to him going out and finding a fight.

"Let me just get changed into something more presentable."

It wasn't long before you were walking along the docks of the harbor with Childe. You were hand in hand with him, the redhead had grabbed your hand early on, intertwining your fingers with a cheeky grin. You didn't resist when he did this, comfortable with showing the small amount of affection even in public.

Looking out across the calm waters of the harbor, you couldn't help but think it matched the blue of the Harbinger's eyes. While he had an excellent poker face when necessary, Childe's eyes were often very expressive, allowing an easy read of his mood at a glance. Smiling fondly at the thought, you squeezed his hand gently before moving on.

The rest of the day progressed just as pleasantly, both you and Childe enjoying the sights of Liyue before getting lunch at Wanmin as he'd planned. After eating, you browsed the various stalls of Liyue's busy market, admiring the vast array of goods on display.

As the Snezhnayan had earlier predicted, you did meet Zhongli at the market and he did invite you two for tea. You wondered if he had planned it with Childe, but the polite man seemed entirely surprised to have encountered the both of you.

Tea with Zhongli turned out to be quite a lengthy endeavor, and you were rather exhausted by the end of it. He had recounted the history of Liyue well into the evening, in a way that reminded you of a professor during a lecture. It was Childe who was finally able to excuse the both of you, after several hours of education on the historic importance of Silk Flowers.

"Well, I did make a promise that I would rest, so I'm afraid we must be going."

"Ah, yes. It is always good to keep your promises," Zhongli agreed sagely, his words carrying a strange gravity. With polite goodbyes, you left with Childe to return to his apartment. The walk back was through darkness thanks to the hour, but the streets of Liyue were lit and there was still plenty of activity.

It was no surprise that both you and Childe were ready for bed by the time you made it through the door. He mumbled out a mostly unintelligible apology for how long tea with Zhongli had lasted before kissing the top of your forehead and disappearing into his room.

You stood in the hallways shocked by the affectionate gesture for a few seconds before deciding it would be best to just go to bed and forget about it. Surely the action was purely the result of exhaustion.

This time when you woke up the sun had already risen. Silently, you thanked Morax for not having to wake up to Childe's noisy breakfast-making. Even if his cooking was really good, without sleep you'd eventually become rather cranky, to put it lightly.

Exiting the spare bedroom, you found the Harbinger sprawled out on the couch looking through a stack of papers. You assumed it was Fatui business, something which you wanted nothing to do with at the moment. Maybe at another time, you would be interested in their secrets, but as of right now, they weren't really your problem.

"How are you feeling? In any pain?" you asked casually, making your way to the kitchen to retrieve some ice. Regardless of his answer, it was still advised to ice his side regularly.

"Mm, I'm fine. Took some of the medication earlier," he replied, most of his focus still on the documents in his hands. You briefly wondered how often it was that the Eleventh Harbinger did paperwork as opposed to fieldwork. You would have assumed he had a secretary or something for this kind of thing, though you supposed it made some sense for him to do it if he wasn't out in the field.

Leaving the kitchen with another makeshift icepack, you noticed he had set the papers down on the coffee table and draped an arm over his eyes. You raised a brow at this but didn't say anything as you placed the icepack on his side and sat on the couch where there was space beside his legs.

"I don't think I can last six weeks like this. I'm already dying of boredom," he confessed, raising his arm to see your response.

"I'm not sure I can last six weeks either," you replied snarkily. It seemed lost on him as he nodded in agreement before furrowing his brows and scowling at you. Realization.

"Hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sitting up quickly and wincing at the resulting pain. You picked up the icepack that had slid down and pressed it against his side until one of his hands came up to hold it in place.

"It means I think sometimes you're a bit much," you laughed in response, ruffling his hair and causing his scowl to deepen. He swatted your hand away from his hair using his free hand, and you only smiled in amusement.

"I'll have you know I'm a fucking delight and you adore me," he asserted, staring you dead in the eyes with a challenging look. Now that he was closer, your eyes were drawn to the light smattering of freckles that crossed his nose and dusted both cheeks. From a distance, they weren't really visible, but now you could clearly see them.

"Mhm," you agreed absently, bringing a hand up to lightly cradle his jaw, swiping your thumb slowly across his cheek. It was only when he started leaning in that it dawned on you exactly what you were doing and how intimate it seemed. By the time his lips were pressed against yours, heat had risen to your cheeks and you were certain your face was a brilliant shade of scarlet. Luckily his eyes were closed so he couldn't see you in such a state, but you had a feeling he was able to feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Despite your flirtations having been unintentional, you didn't push Childe away. Instead, you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders and fell into the slow rhythm he had set. You heard the soft thump of something being tossed onto the coffee table, but you were distracted from that when his hands found your sides and he pulled you into his lap.

A soft breath left you when his lips moved down to your neck to place gentle kisses there. The featherlight touch had goosebumps raising across your skin and you were almost embarrassed by your body's reactions.

"Alright, maybe six weeks won't be too bad," Childe murmured against your neck and you could feel his smile. It made your heart flutter, you weren't sure you liked that.

"Oh, what made you change your mind?" you asked innocently, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Mm, I wonder." His lips began trailing back up your neck and over your jaw until he sealed them over yours again. The drag of his tongue across your bottom lip had you opening your mouth for him without a thought. In response, he pulled you closer to him, one hand reaching up to tangle in your hair.

When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your flushed appearance and the fact you were a bit breathless. The way he looked at you made butterflies flutter in your stomach and when his ocean eyes dropped to gaze at your lips you felt the overwhelming urge to flee.

"I need to go. I want to get you some proper icepacks from Baizhu and I should probably do some grocery shopping for you," you blurted, standing up. His arms fell easily away from you, but he looked up at you with a surprised and what you thought might be a slightly hurt expression.

"Um, okay," was all he could say as you retreated to the guest room to get dressed in something more appropriate for going out in public. Changing didn't take very long and you made sure to bring Mora along as you fled the apartment with barely so much as a 'goodbye'. Childe was still sitting stunned on the couch as you breezed out the door.

Running away was always a good way to deal with your problems.

[marauderundercover]

Jason Todd is tired. He’s tired of vigilantes and villains and dreary skies. Despite swearing to himself that he didn’t need a break, nor did he want a break, he accepted Bruce’s offer of a break (though Bruce was smart enough to not word it as a break). Instead of patrol and listening to police scanners, Jason was tasked with scouting out a location for a new branch of Wayne Enterprises in Paris. Tim was bitter that he wasn’t the one going, which just added to Jason’s excitement. If it meant pissing off the replacement, Jason would wear a pink beret, anything to piss the kid off. Grinning as he takes in the clear skies through the window of the plane, Jason can’t help but feel relaxed for the first time in a long time.

--------

So maybe Jason shouldn’t have allowed himself to feel relaxed. Because apparently, Paris has freaking supervillains that can flood the entirety of Paris without breaking a sweat.

Jason curses under his breath as he climbs higher up the fire escape, trying desperately not to look at the carnage surrounding him. The entirety of Paris, underwater. The only reason he wasn’t one of the bodies floating beneath him, was the location of his hotel room. B had insisted on Jason using the Wayne’s suite at Le Grand Paris, the one that he had bought in case of emergency trips to Paris. Not that Bruce ever made emergency trips anywhere, seeing as the bat much preferred to stay close to his own home base. Stopping on the roof, Jason pulls out his phone and dials Dick.

    “Hello?” Dick says, his confusion clear even an ocean away. Jason had made sure his brothers knew that his trip to Paris was going to be a silent one, he needed this time away from everything.

    “I know the news may look a little crazy right now, but I’m okay. Might need some Wayne Foundation trucks out here though once clean up begins. The survivors are gonna need somewhere to go-” Jason says, stopping as Dick cuts him off with a surprised noise.

    “Survivors? Little Wing, what’d you do?” He asks and Jason scoffs.

    “Just cause something bad happened, doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it Dickwad. Are there no news stations reporting this shit?” Jason asks as he glances around.

    ��Reporting what? You’re kinda freaking me out-” Dick says, but Jason cuts him off.

    “Freaking you- Okay, hold on.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and snaps several pictures of the carnage surrounding him, careful not to get any of the bodies’ faces in his pictures. He sends the pictures and waits a few seconds before hearing the sharp inhale of his older brother.

    “Why are no reports coming from Paris? This is- Jason this is huge. Can you tell how many survivors there are?” Dick asks, his voice more serious than Jason had heard in awhile.

    “Not immediately. I can see people on the surrounding rooftops but-” He pauses, glancing around. “There’s not a lot of people up here Dick.”

    “You’re coming home immediately. I don’t know why B let you go across an ocean by yourself-” Dick rants. Jason rolls his eyes and prepares to respond when suddenly, a bright light flashes in the sky and waves of light rush around the city. Jason blinks and suddenly, the water is gone. And where there were bloated corpses, are now living people. Smiling and acting as if nothing serious happened.

    “What the fuck.” Jason says, and Dick immediately stops talking.

    “Jason? What’s wrong?” He asks. Wordlessly, Jason takes several more pictures and sends them, once again waiting for Dick’s response. “I- is that a current view?” He asks.

    “Uh, yeah. Some freaky lights went everywhere and all of a sudden corpses are walking around and everyone is acting like this is normal.” Jason says, pacing the roof as he tries not to freak out.

    “Monsieur?” A voice calls out timidly, Jason whirls around and his eyes widen at the girl standing in front of him, a foot shorter than him and dressed in what was obviously a hero costume.

    “Uh, hi?” Jason says, ignoring the rapid fire questions from Dick.

    “Oh, um, are you okay?” The girl asks in heavily accented English. Jason just blinks at her before glancing around.

    “What was that?” He asks, barely able to hide the horror in his voice. The girl grimaces.

    “That was an akuma, sent by Hawkmoth. You are new in Paris, yes?” She asks and he nods slowly, not sure where she’s going with this. “I am Ladybug, one of Paris’ heroes. I can explain more, but you really should get off the roof first. And try not to panic, I’ll answer what questions I can, but just stay calm.” The girl says, holding her hands up in a calming manner. Jason nods and points to his phone. She nods in understanding and pulls out a yoyo before propelling to the ground. With a yoyo. Jason blinks in surprise but goes back to his phone.

    “I swear to god Jason if you don’t say something soon I’m going to-” Dick rambles.

    “I just met one of Paris’ heroes.” Jason says, cutting Dick off and reveling in the silence he created. “I’ll call back later, she’s supposed to answer some questions for me.” Jason says before unceremoniously hanging up. Jason climbs back down the fire escape, dropping the last ten feet and landing in a crouch. He stands up and quirks an eyebrow at the look on Ladybug’s face.

    “I could have helped you, no need to almost break a bone.” She says with a frown.

    “Kid, I’m twice your weight. You might be able to swing on a yoyo, but there’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to carry me too.” He says, crossing his arms.

    “I’m not a kid, I’m uh, I’m a hero, er uh, Ladybug. I’m Ladybug.” She stammers, just solidifying in his mind that this is, in fact, a child. But he just nods, accepting that he was being a little patronizing.

    “Got it, sorry. Can you tell me why all of those corpses are just walking around now? And acting as if that was completely normal?” He asks, and Ladybug sighs.

    “Honestly, my guess is that they’re used to it by now. There was a lot of panic in the beginning, but once people realized that only made things worse...it’s better to just move forward.” She says, pursing her lips.

    “You’re all used to watching people die and come back to life?” Jason asks incredulously. Ladybug nods.

    “This all started a little over three years ago. We have to be used to this by now, otherwise people would be akumatized immediately after every battle.” She adds, and Jason frowns. Akumatized? Three years. This has been happening for over three years? Wait a minute-

    “Have you been the hero since the beginning?” Jason asks, cursing under his breath as Ladybug hesitantly nods. She glances around, watching the horizon nervously.

    “I- I’m not sure why you’re upset about this, and I’m really sorry for this, but you need to breathe. Just, try and think about something else if it upsets you.” Ladybug instructs, her gaze flitting around, occasionally falling back on Jason’s angry face before she’s once again glancing around.

    “Why the hell should I breathe? This is- this is insane! You may be a hero, but you’re still a kid. This is-” Jason freezes and blinks as Ladybug’s yoyo nearly crashes into his face, instead sucking up a little purple butterfly. Eyebrows furrowed, Jason glances at Ladybug’s face, almost immediately taken aback by the resigned look on the hero’s face.

    “This is why you should breathe. This is how Hawkmoth akumatizes you, it’s how he controls you and makes you into a villain that my partner and I will then have to battle. I understand your feelings, and it’s awful that you can’t completely feel them in Paris, but I have a feeling that you wouldn’t want to be used by a supervillain.” Ladybug explains, and Jason tenses. Stupid ass villains attacking kids who- he quickly tries to think about anything else when he sees how tired Ladybug looks.

    “Have you called for any outside help? I mean, no offense, you obviously know what you’re doing. But have you thought of calling for backup so that you can actually take a breath?” Jason asks, and Ladybug huffs before frowning.

    “We did- in the beginning. The day after the first attack, my partner and I met up and we called the Justice League. We were desperate, we knew that we needed help, training at the very least. But- the hero we talked to told us to call when there was an actual problem. As you saw with all of the water, I’m able to fix everything and return it to its state prior to the akuma attack. Anyway, by the time we could have built a case and petitioned for help, I decided it wasn’t a great idea. My partner...he’s tired too. He needs a break, so he petitions for help from time to time. But we can’t risk a member of the Justice League coming here, getting upset, and then turning into a villain. There are some akumatized people who were hard enough to beat without them having prior knowledge of combat. I- I trust my partner. But I don’t think either of us could fight against an akumatized Superman or Wonder Woman.” Ladybug explains, and Jason tries hard to avoid glancing at her shaking hands, lest he embarrass the poor kid by pointing out that she’s anxious about the whole conversation.

    “Would you be willing to accept help if it’s already currently in Paris?” Jason asks, an idea forming in his head.

    “What?” Ladybug asks, her hands no longer shaking as a shocked look flashes onto her face.

    “I’ve worked in security in some pretty intense cities. And I’ve worked as a freelance detective. If you want, I could help you and your partner.” Jason offers, only feeling slightly bad for the lies. Well, they’re not completely lies? Oh well. Not like the girl’s gonna figure that out or anything.

    “I-I would need to talk to my partner first. I don’t make these kinds of decisions without his input.” Ladybug says, and Jason nods.

    “If you and your partner agree to talk to me, I’ll be on this roof at midnight.” Jason says, and Ladybug purses her lips, but nods.

    “Thank you. Bye.” Ladybug waves, using her yoyo to swing away across Paris. Jason frowns as he watches her for a moment. Another kid brought in to fight a war that wasn’t their own. Jason curses under his breath, pushing his hair up as he takes deep breaths to calm down. Pulling out his phone, Jason dials the one number he didn’t want to contact while in Paris.

    “Hey, Replacement, listen up. I need you to do something.”

Next

[bopbopstyles]

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST 

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault. 

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

or

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.  

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat.  You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together.  That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?”  Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.  

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.  

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you  were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and  see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room.  The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping,  and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time  with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his,  the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?”  You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.  

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized,  and shifted away so he could get at his computer.  

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK,  a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”  

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower,  a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”  

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and  you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

[oogaboogasphincter]

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: Staying in a hotel on Puggart Bench while in between expeditions has given you and Ezra a lot of time to develop your relationship both emotionally and physically. On your last night before you depart for your next trip together, you decide to try out one of Ezra’s kinks. Your heartstrings aren’t the only things that will be getting tied up this evening. 

Word Count: 6.8k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! because this is like 80% smut

Warnings: mild allusion to a rocky relationship from this oneshot (both partners have made up and are now in an established relationship), smut, soft-ish bondage (f gets tied up), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl please), dirty talk, swearing, a hand on a throat but no choking, one (1) instance of ✨spitting✨, questionable kink shaming??💀(a joke is made about daddy kinks), comma splice, atrocious metaphor and repetitive sentence structure galore. also no beta reader, and reader uses she/her pronouns and is afab. 

Author’s Note: this is my first smut fic! i really appreciated all of the positive feedback that i got on my first fic (💚), so i thought i would do a smutty follow-up to it! if you haven’t read it and you’d like to, you can read it here. i tried my best to make this fic readable as a standalone oneshot though, so if you’d like to do that, that’s cool too! :) i think the only things new readers need to know are that Ezra’s nickname for the reader is Goose, and The Blue is a moon, like The Green, that Ezra, Cee and the reader traveled to in my last fic. also i reference the traffic light system a lot more in this fic than i have personally read in other fics, just because i feel like it’s a great way of checking in on your partner during sex. i know it might get a lil annoying after a while, but i think it’s important to keep it up. i also wanted to include it in my first fic bc even though i might not use it explicitly in my next fics, i want it to be understood that I think it’s super important to continue to check on your partner, etc. also i apologize if the smut isn’t “realistic”, as your writer is 100% a virgin skjfskdj💀 i don’t think that means that i don't know/can't learn how to write some smut though! however i would just keep that in mind💀, and i hope you enjoy it! :)🍀💜

p.s. i'd like to say thank you to @martinsmomo​ one more time for giving me the amazing request for my first fic! 💕

gif by @skyshipper

“Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.”

The patch job of your relationship with Ezra on The Blue was a success. Spending an equal amount of time with him alone, alone with Cee and as a trio boosted your strength as a group. The awkward silences and argumentative expeditions around The Blue were no more, and were replaced with friendly banter and jovial hikes. You and Ezra had made up so much that you had started to express your affection for one another physically. 

On every third day or so, Cee would go out on a trip alone, needing some time to herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stand the two of you - although you and Ezra occasionally found joy in pushing her buttons - but she enjoyed doing activities by herself. It made her feel like she was fortifying her transition from teenager to young adult. You and Ezra couldn’t have agreed more and supported her independent decisions. 

And on every third day or so, her absence from the pod allowed your courage to physically engage with Ezra to grow. The two of you had kept it to a minimum, not wanting Cee to notice any blushing cheeks or sweaty foreheads or panting chests when she would return. The majority of your time was spent just cuddling in positions that were a little too sexually charged to be considered platonic: a leg wound around a waist here, a hand gripping an ass there. The heaviest moment you had had was during a makeout session. 

While lying down in Ezra’s makeshift bed and mingling tastebuds, you had hiked one of your legs up and over his hips. Soon after, you felt the tip of his cock poke the underside of your thigh. He couldn’t have been harder. You dared to relieve some of his pent up arousal while still maintaining some semblance of innocence and released your grip on his hair, slid your hand down his broad chest and slipped it underneath your leg to get to his erection. You held it and ran your fingers over the tip of it, then along its length, hoping to get a good idea of what your pussy would have to take on at some later time. The moment Ezra felt the light weight of your hand, he moaned deeply into your mouth. He had then broken your kiss and warned, “Goose, in all seriousness, you should highly consider concluding your investigation unless you want to throw me into a pit of agonizing embarrassment.”

You teased, his clothed cock still in hand, “Ezra, I think we should stick to swallowing each other’s tongues and not speaking in them.” 

He had hummed in delight and grinned at you, then sighed, “Okay then, in your plebeian lingo: if you don’t stop rubbing my cock, I’ll cum in my pants.”

You both erupted in laughter, and you had snaked your hands back up his body and entangled them in his hair, taking his tongue in your mouth once again. 

After your departure from The Blue, your gang had decided to stop on Puggart Bench and decompress for a while. Cee wanted to hang out with her friends before they all went their separate ways in their new adult lives, Ezra wanted to repay the loan he had taken out for his prosthetic arm and you wanted a real bed to sleep in. Not a pilot’s chair, not a bundle of blankets on a metal floor, but a real bed. With a mattress, a comforter, a nice set of sheets, a plethora of blankets and pillows. A two bedroom suite in Puggart Bench’s most prestigious hotel was what the three of you had booked for two months before another orbiting moon made its way into the Bakhroma System for the three of you to explore. Your group had engaged in some nice, familial-like activities, nourishing your found family dynamic. 

You and Ezra had also spent quite a bit of time getting to know each other physically. While Cee would spend the day with her friends, you and Ezra never left your bed. Well, technically Ezra left the bed when he would stand, pull you to the very edge of it and subsequently use his newfound balance to pound into you with abandon. Your body hadn’t left the sheets, even when you knelt on the floor and took Ezra down your throat; your back pushed against the side of the mattress with every one of his thrusts. 

Fast forward to the present day, and it is the last day you are on Puggart Bench before you leave for The Indigo, the new moon in town. Cee is spending the night at her friend’s house, where she will be having one last sleepover with all of the girls she won’t have the chance to connect with for an undetermined period of time. You feel guilty for looking forward to her leaving because you can only imagine what your bedroom will see of you and Ezra tonight. 

While he washed your hair after a particularly exertive romp, Ezra had hinted that he had a kink that he wanted to try out with you. Without a definite return date from The Indigo, he offered that the two of you try it before you left for the moon, his desires getting the best of him. He never elaborated on what the kink is, as the both of you got entranced with washing the rest of your bodies. You plan on bringing it up tonight in the hopes of coming to a decision of whether or not you two have the patience to wait to test it out or not. 

The two of you are now putting on a facade of patience as Cee packs her things in her room. You sit in between Ezra’s legs on the couch, back to his torso, both of you reading a different book. The text fails to retain your attention, so you place a finger on the page you are on and fold it over. You shift your head against Ezra’s chest to look up at him, pupils dilating immediately as they take him in. Black thick-rimmed reading glasses grace his face, the only indication in his rugged appearance that he would be a bookworm. He glances down from his book to meet your eyes, smiling at you. He brings his right hand down, brushing the back of the dark grey metal against your cheek. You smile back at him, and a naughty thought pops into your brain. 

With your free hand, you find Ezra’s cock in an instant and palm it through his pants. His mouth drops in blissful surprise, but he’s quick to sit up and yank your hand away from his now hard dick. He snaps out a whisper, “Patience, Goose,” and places a light kiss to your temple. He gets up and walks away, afraid that you would just try to place your hand right back where it was. He was also afraid that he wouldn’t have the strength to stop you the next time. 

Suitcase clips clap from Cee’s bedroom, and moments later she walks into the living room. You look up at her from the back of the couch: still pouting that Ezra shooed you away, and he looks up at her too, standing behind the kitchen counter: hiding his erection. You both fight through your mutual embarrassment and smile at her, noticing her excitement. She beams at the two of you, suitcase in hand, and raises her shoulders, “Well, I’m going to go now.” 

She starts to walk to the door and Ezra follows her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Have a good time, Sparrow. We’ll swing by and scoop you up tomorrow afternoon.” 

Cee smiles up at him, “Will do.” 

Ezra retracts his hand and puts both in his pockets, “We hate to bar you from seeing your friends and leading a more stable life, but we really do find solace in your company on our travels. It keeps us grounded, as much as one can be on an orbiting moon.” 

She turns so that she faces both of you, “No, that’s okay. I really enjoy being with you guys. You’re like a family that I got to pick.”

Tears threaten to run down your cheeks as you get up and rush over to her to give her a tight hug. She returns your embrace and Ezra follows shortly behind, encasing both of you in his arms. He draws giggles from his girls by placing a kiss on each of your heads, and after a moment of relishing in your found family, you all release one another. Cee says her final goodbyes, opens the door and closes it behind her, giving you and Ezra one last final smile of departure. 

You feel ashamed by the amount of heat that floods your genitals as soon as you hear the lock of the door click closed. Ezra, ever sensitive to your every mood change, pulls you in close and presses his forehead to yours, “You know we have to wait, Goose.” You nod, all too familiar with your routine once Cee left. You would wait and listen for her to walk down the hallway to the elevators, press the down button, wait for the doors to open, walk inside the chamber once it arrived, wait for the doors to close and finally start to descend to the ground floor. You did so out of respect for her; you and Ezra would never be able to forgive yourselves if she were to, for example, forget something and come back to find the two of you in the middle of some heated relations. 

Ezra’s fingers massage your shoulder blades as you anticipate the sound of the elevator opening, fully aware that he was not only dissipating any nerves you have but spurring your arousal on as well. He knows that thoughts of his fingers traveling elsewhere swarm your brain as he alternates the pressure his fingertips give you. With this knowledge, unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking about what his first order for you will be tonight. Would he introduce the kink that he alluded to the other day? Does he just want a night of repeating your default, mind-blowing agenda? How would you feel about reversing roles, and have you be his dominant and him your submissive? 

The ping of the elevator down the hall snaps him out of his trance. You eagerly await the whir of the elevator going down, and seconds later your wish is granted. Ezra lets go of you and steps back, eyes raking up and down your body twice before telling you, “Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.” Such straightforward instructions to come from such an elaborate man. Ezra doesn’t waste a second in giving you seductive orders the moment he hears the elevator descending, his hunger to devour you reaching unbearable levels. With your appetite consisting of the same ferocity, you follow his instructions and go to your bedroom. Plopping onto the bed and laying on your back, you kick your shoes off, shimmy out of your pants and slide your shirt up and over your head, tossing the items to the chair in the corner of the room where you and Ezra kept your clothes. You found it humorous that he, like you, implemented the “chair of discarded clothing” into his life. 

Now in just your underwear and socks (Ezra had relayed to you that it is statistically easier to orgasm while wearing socks), you reach over into the nightstand and pull out a necktie. You had been rewarded with such powerful orgasms at the hands of Ezra - literally - that you often couldn’t hold in your cries no matter how hard you tried. The necktie’s usual resting place was in between your teeth, tied around your mouth in an effort to muffle yourself out of courtesy of your neighbors. Ezra’s mouth remained ungagged; the neighbors must’ve thought that he was trying out some new rigorous exercise regime with all of those heaves, grunts and... moans? What sort of move would cause his headboard to repeatedly knock on the wall? 

You sit and rub your thumbs on the buttersoft navy silk of the tie, patiently awaiting Ezra’s entrance into the room and later your cunt. A few moments later he comes in and shuts and locks the door behind him, an emergency precaution to protect the eyes of Cee or any intruding employee. He comes over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You glide over to him like a magnet and figure out a part of his kink after taking a quick glance into his hands, seeing that he’s holding rope. Black rope, to be exact, of varying lengths. He notices your quizzical brow and asks, “Spill your thoughts, Goose.” You gingerly reach out and touch the rope with your index finger, your vision moving in loops as you trace the coils. You look up and meet his eyes, those warm, curious, assuring windows to his soul that you love ever so dearly. You question, “Do you like to be tied up or do you want to tie me up?” 

He displays a faint smile, “I’d find great satisfaction in tying you up. However, I would be a liar if I claimed that the thought of you restraining me and having your way with me never joyfully crossed my mind.”

You sit there in silence, taking in his desires. You are most definitely up for this, you just approach every new romp with hesitation. You hadn’t been a virgin the first time you slept with Ezra, but no one had ever made you feel so good. So open, exposed, on display, in all the right ways. You had been set ablaze by his confident maneuvers, calmed ever so coolly by his doting ministrations. He had drowned you in his passionate love, and you had loved every single fucking second of it. It just got a bit overwhelming at times, which he would take notice of and promptly give you your time and space when you needed it. 

The rope intimidates you. It was smooth to the touch on the pad of your finger, but you could already imagine the uncomfortable burns it could give you. The tightness and thickness of the coils add to the fantasy of being completely immovable, but it also plants doubts in your mind. You voice your concerns to Ezra, “I’d love for you to tie me up, but I don’t think I’d like to start with rope.”

He cups your cheek lovingly, “Always one step ahead of me, Goose,” and picks up an end of the necktie in your lap. He rubs it with you, “I don’t want to start with the rope on you, either. I want us to work up to it.” He pats your cheek and holds up the rope in his hands, “I mean, it does look a little scary, doesn’t it?” Your newfound ease lets itself out of your lungs with a giggle, mirrored by Ezra. He turns and puts the rope on the seat at the foot of your bed, and you climb into his lap as he turns back around and cover his mouth with yours. Falling back onto the bed, his arms wrap around you like a snake and constrict you to his body. You grind your pussy onto his clothed torso, desperate for some friction, your soft moans tumbling down his throat. 

He has to pull you away from his mouth by the back of your neck, “Let me take my clothes off, sweet girl.” He gives you a chaste kiss before you roll off of him and let him stand to strip. As he gets naked, you remove your panties in a flash, and he quizzes you, “Color system?”

“Green for when I’m enjoying it, yellow for when I’m being pushed to my limits, red for when I’ve reached my limit and need you to stop.” 

“Good girl. What’s our safe word?”

“Magpie.”

“Excellent. Are you ready?” he asks as he pulls his underwear down and repeats your earlier action of throwing the discarded clothes onto the chair in the corner. 

You nod fervently, “Yes sir.” 

He sighs as he walks over to the edge of the bed and kneels, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Goose, you don’t have to call me that. I feel fulfilled enough in my domination with the heavenly noises your precious body emits.” 

You shrug, “It’s just natural. It’s a good girl formality, Ez. Aren’t I a good girl?”

He raises an eyebrow as he hooks his hands behind your knees and pulls your legs over the bed so you’re sitting on the edge, “I don’t think good girls let their neediness get the best of them and just fondle cocks out in the open.” You let out a devious laugh, noting his reference to your sneak attack on the couch, and he takes the necktie from you.  Your fingers run through his hair for a moment before he gently takes your wrists, smiling up at you. 

He reaches up to kiss you, and after your lips part he mumbles against them, “I’m just going to tie your hands together now, okay?” 

You nod, “Okay.” 

He gives you another wholehearted kiss before sitting back on his feet, beginning to tie your wrists to one another. You admit, although it’s incredibly arousing to watch his thick fingers twirl the smooth fabric into a knot, you grow a little bit anxious at the loss of movement. He can read it on your face after he finishes the knot, “I want you to lay back while I eat you out. I tied your hands in front of you so that you can pinch me if you want me to stop but can’t find your words.” You nod, appreciating the simplicity of his instructions. 

“I need you to use your words now, Goose.”

“Okay,” you reiterate, “Safe word is magpie. I can pinch you if I can’t say it.”

He nods, “Good girl,” and eases you onto your back. As he’s moving down your body to your core, something dawns on you, “Wait a minute.”

Ezra pauses and looks up at you with a caring expression, “What?”

“How am I supposed to stay quiet with the tie on my wrists and not in my mouth?”

He answers simplistically with a smirk, “Don't.”

You laugh, “What about the neighbors?”

“Fuck them. They should be grateful that tonight they will be an audience to one of the most beautiful symphonies that has ever been composed. And I’m not stepping foot off of this planet until I’ve heard my good girl’s clear, unabashed screams.” 

A rush of hot air leaves your mouth, enticing Ezra to come back up and push it back into you with his tongue. A moment of clashing teeth later, he retreats back down to your core and lightly knocks your legs apart. You shift your gaze downward to find him admiring your cunt, his left hand capturing his dick and pumping it a few times. He leans forward, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and then runs his sharp nose over the spot, up your leg, across your hip and back down to your wetness and inhales deeply. You can’t help but laugh at his display of rapture, his sniffing audible. He threatens you in disbelief, “My indulgence amuses you, Goose?” 

You meet his eyes with yours, twinkling with mischief, “Yeah, kind of.” 

He puts his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head, “Goose, you are being a bit of a brat.” He pushes your knees to your chest, his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping them in place, “And you should know by now how much I love taming my little brat.” 

You are very aware of how much he enjoys brat taming, hence your acting up. His tongue licks a wide stripe up your core and a gasp escapes your mouth. He moans into you, sending vibrations through your cunt and shivers up your spine. He buries his tongue in you, his lips fornicating with your southern set, his fingers gripping your soft flesh tightly. Your anticipation of this moment has made your cunt oversensitive, so every little tickle of Ezra’s facial hair, every small movement of his warm tongue, every faint nudge of his nose and chin against your vulva makes you moan loudly. The pattern that his tongue is following suddenly picks up speed and your body involuntarily adjusts to it. Your hips buck up into his mouth, your clit weeping to be drenched in his saliva. Your tied hands lower until your fingertips are able to find his hair and intertwine with the thick brunette strands. The stability that gripping onto his hair gives you makes you hyperaware of just how close you are to cumming already. You whimper, “Ezra, please.”

This tone of your voice has been permanently ingrained in his mind thanks to your daily fucks over the past couple months. If the tightening of your hamstrings isn’t a large enough hint to him that you are close, your breathlessness is a blatant clue. He releases you from his mouth, lines of spit keeping the two of you connected, “That’s my girl, come on.” His egging on is more than you need to be shoved into your orgasm. As his tongue returns to lap at your clit, your neck arches up and your eyes roll into the back of your head. A groan rips through your throat that drowns out his muffled moans, his mouth working you through your orgasm. Your sharp intakes of air start to stagger out as your heart begins to calm down, your cunt pulsing with aftershocks. Ezra reluctantly removes his mouth from you, wetting your inner thigh with a line of his spit and your slick before pressing a kiss to the same spot he kissed earlier. The blackness of his pupils overtakes his chocolatey irises when he catches your eyes, dopamine flooding his nervous system. 

He presents his wrist, does some math on an imaginary watch and jokes, “That must’ve been a record, Goose.” You giggle and pull your hands up to your mouth, trying to hide your embarrassed smile. He reaches up and pulls your hands back down to tangle your fingers in his cowlicks, “But my desire to drink pools of your cum has not yet been satiated.” 

You swear under your breath as he dips his head back in between your legs, your voice catching in your throat when his hot breath cascades over your folds. This time, instead of licking stripes and lapping, he opts to draw shapes and trace circles against you. It sounds stupid, but man does it feel fucking good. Before you lose all self control, you give his scalp a massage, the best one you can muster with conjoined hands, as a way of telling him I love you. Simultaneously, he switches his tongue’s clockwise motion to counterclockwise and hooks his hands around the tops of your thighs, pulling you deeper into his mouth so he can devour you even more thoroughly than he already was. You brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead with your knuckles, seeing that his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed in concentration. He’s been moaning this entire time into you, blissfully lost in the heaven that is your pussy, and as his tongue picks up its pace the vocal vibrations boost your toward your release. You beg of him, “Please don’t stop.” 

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he heightens your arousal one step further than you thought possible. He notes your utter wetness and decides to fill your wanting hole by snaking his left hand down to your entrance and slipping two fingers inside you. A heated orgasm pumps through your every artery just like Ezra’s fingers are pumping in and out of your cunt, his tongue keeping a delicious pace. After your body is done convulsing with pleasure, he moves up it and stops in front of your face. 

“Open.” 

You are all too familiar with this command and obey. Ezra spits a combination of your cum and his saliva into your mouth. He presses a hand to the underside of your jaw and you close your mouth. 

“Swallow.” 

You do as he says while he keeps his hand against your neck, feeling his love concoction make its way down your throat. He groans and gives you a quick kiss before asking, “Color?” You smile and bring your hands up to scratch at his scruff, “Green. You?”

“Green.” 

Pulling your body tight against his, he hauls the two of you to the middle of the bed. He sits up and back atop your hips, pulls your hands closer to him and begins to untie your wrists. Your eyes can’t help but fixate on his hard dick, standing erect in front of you, as he speaks, “Now Goose, once you’re untied I want you to get on all fours for me,” he notices your distraction, “and if you try to pull any shenanigans, there will be consequences.” You shift your gaze up to his eyes and you swear that there’s a deep sparkle in them that is daring you, begging you, to disobey him. He liked to punish you as much as you liked to be punished by him. So, once untied, you throw him a curveball and take his orders, flipping over and propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder at him to see that his face is mangled in baffled confusion, making you laugh, “What?” 

He mounts your ass and teases your entrance with his cock, “If you had attempted to grab what your eyes were drooling over, I would’ve spanked you.” 

“But I didn’t.”

He leans over your back and places his hands on either side of yours, “I wanted to spank you.” 

“I know. But I’m not a naughty girl.”

He raises his eyebrows and chuffs out disbelief, “Maybe if you continue to tell yourself that delusion, you can convince yourself that it’s true. But there’s no fooling me. I know my girl is infatuated with misbehaving in order to spite me,” he stuffs his cock inside your pussy, “Isn't that true?” He lifts his left hand to wrap his fingers around the arched column of your throat, forcing you to look up at him. 

You dismantle his lie, “I don’t do it to spite you, I do it to delight you.” 

He pulls his hips away from yours in order to prepare for a thrust and hums, “That’s one reason why I love you, Goose. You see right through me.” 

The two of you groan in unison as he fucks forward and bottoms out inside you. As he establishes a steady pace, your quivering fingers find purchase on his wrist. Even though you had slept together a countless number of times in the past two months, his girthy penetration still overwhelmed you at first, and you benefitted from at least a few seconds of adjusting. He knew this and was why he untied you; his brutal rhythm coupled with the binding of the tie would be too much for you without a little warming up. While he’s stretching you out, he murmurs encouragements into your hair, “That’s it, just like that... You’re taking my cock so well... Good girl.” 

After your muscles relax, he asks, “Color?”

“Couldn’t be greener. You?”

He grins at your response, “Green.” 

He gives your cheek a kiss before proposing his next instruction, “Why don’t you be a good girl and lay down and put your arms behind your back?”

He pauses his thrusts as you lean forward and press your cheek against the sheets. You turn to ask him just how he wants you to move, and he reads your mind, “Touch the pits of your elbows.” You twist your forearms behind your back until they are pressed against each other and the tips of one hand’s fingers graze the opposite side’s elbow. He snakes the silky tie in between your spine and wrists, the fabric gliding easily over your sweaty skin. He ties your wrists together again, this time much looser than before. He color checks you when he finishes the knot. You wiggle your arms, the amount of resistance being just right, “Green.” He hums in enjoyment and runs his fingertips down the backs of your arms, sending a pleasant shudder through you. 

Lining himself up, he places a steadying right hand on your lower back. The contrast of the cool metal of his prosthetic limb to the fire that barrels through you once he pushes himself back into your hole is divine. Both textures of his hands slip against your skin as they try to find a solid grip on your hips in order to allow him to begin pounding into you. Your whimpering spurs him on, and once he’s able to to lock you into place you both swear under your breath in anticipation. As he embarks on his ferocious rhythm, an orgasm takes you by surprise. 

Well, not really by surprise, because Ezra has proven time and time again that he can coax you to cum at a moment’s notice. 

Out of courteous instinct, you bury your face into the bed to muffle your cries of ecstasy. Ezra turns your face to the side and tuts, “Uh-uh, Goose, I need to hear you this time, remember?” 

You can barely him him, let alone understand him, while an astronomical burst of white oxytocin smothers your poor body. Unable to gain control of your composure to stop yourself, you indulge Ezra and let your screams fill the bedroom. The numbness of your mind fades away, effects of your orgasm bringing feeling back to you: the hot tears that spot your bottom lashline, the sweet soreness that the tensing of your muscles left you, the sweat that gathers in the line of your spine, the aroused slick that coats your inner thighs. 

You pant as Ezra unties you, “Good girl. Flip over and face me,” and he tenderly places your forearms to your sides. 

You’re exhausted. You can most definitely take more of his loving, but you need him to do the work, “I can’t.” 

He rolls you over onto your back, his muscular arms giving you the comfort you need to go on. A frantic, worried expression takes over his face, “You okay? Still green? I didn’t push you too far, did I? Was the tie too tight? Did I-” 

You shut him up with a kiss. You reassure him, “Yes, still green. Just fucking tired.” 

You both laugh, and he asks, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shake your head no, “I’m not sure if the neighbors heard all of that scream. I think they need another one.” 

Your dirty talk contorts his mouth into a grin of sly allure as he gets up off the bed, “I concur.” He opens a drawer of the nightstand and takes out another necktie, this one made of black wool. He gets back on the bed and says, “Let’s give them a musical to remember.” 

You snicker as he pushes both of you farther up the bed, giving you more room to mess about in. He places the second tie next to the blue one and a hand on each of your ankles, “What this next position requires in flexibility it will pay for infinitely in pleasure for you and I both, okay, Goose?” 

Your wariness is excited, “Okay?” 

He pulls your legs together and picks up the blue tie. He wraps the fabric around both ankles, beginning to tie them together, but pauses and interjects, meeting your eyes, “You’re okay with me tying you here, right?” 

You smile at his concern and mock, “Ezra, you could tie me any way you’d like and I’ll be more than happy.” 

His nose crinkles in satisfaction and he resumes tying you up. After he’s done, he pushes your thighs to your chest, bending your knees so your feet are in the air. You can’t stop the laughter that erupts from you, “Ez, what in the Bakhroma System are you scheming?” 

He gives you a wickedly teasing laugh back, “A fun time, Goose.” 

He momentarily cups your face with his left hand, “If at any point it gets too much, for whatever reason, just say the word and I’ll stop everything.” 

You take his hand and kiss his palm, “Okay.” 

He smiles, boops your nose with his thumb and pulls your arms so that they rest in the pit of your upside down knees. He picks up the black tie and does a different knot on your arms than he had done previously. He puts the binding on them higher up, which makes you hold your legs up, keeping your cunt on display for him. The wool of the tie scratches where the silk had soothed you, but you savor the friction. Ezra wastes no time in entering you again, plunging his cock deep into your fluttering walls. You brace your forehead against your shins, panting wildly. With every thrust, he hits something deep and sensitive in you, but you know you could make the experience more intense for the both of you. 

“Ez?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me?” He angles himself so he can look around your legs and meet your eyes. As you are projected into the depths of his eyes, engulfed by the lust-blown ink of his pupils, enhanced by the dark coffee that surrounds them, an “I love you” slips out of your lips. 

He compresses your body further by leaning down and capturing your mouth, “I love you too.” 

When he pulls back and his hands find the backs of your thighs, he asks for a color check. You answer green, giving him permission to ravage you. He does just that, putting every ounce of his might behind his thrusts, eliciting growls of the same magnitude from you both. The gradual construction of an orgasm starts to warm your body, your moans getting louder and louder with each passing second. In an effort to put it off, you bite down hard on your lip. Ezra notices, running a thumb across your lipline, “Goose, please, allow me to be privy to your every stuttered breath.”

“Every gasp of delighted surprise.”

“Every involuntary whimper.”

“Every lustful yelp.”

“Every plea for me to keep going.”

“Every unhinged beg.”

“Every feral scream that only I can rouse out of those magnificent lungs. Indulge my deranged wish and let me hear it all, Goose.”

His words whisk you onto an expressive whirlwind of slow-building passion. You close your eyes and watch as your orgasm transforms from a cozy snuggle to a captivating explosion; behind your eyelids, amorous red transitions to a lustful magenta. It lightens to a flirtatious and giggly bubblegum, intensifying to a vibrating, barely-there pink. Then, all at once, buckets of slumberous evergreen, pure Ezra energy, submerge you into your release. Any bit of any other color is eradicated as he pours his soul onto yours. Descending from your chameleonic trance, you open your eyes to meet his. He can see that he has torn you apart in a most satiating way, which catapults him to his peak. He pulls out of you and pumps his cum onto the backside of your thighs, his heart collapsing with joy. He smears his stickiness across both of your hamstrings and then quickly gets to work to release you from his necktie binds. The bind that he has made of your heart to his, though, is infinitely knotted, forever unbreakable. 

Your limbs untangle themselves and fall to the bed, every cell in your body pooped from the session. He asks for a final time, “Color?” 

You sigh, “Green. You?” 

He smiles, “Green.” 

He brushes the now cum-stained ties to the side and pats your stomach, stamping a handprint of his seed, “I’ll be right back, Goose.” You nod once and he gets up and exits the room, leaving the door ajar.

You flip onto your stomach, your muscles yearning for a change of position after getting pummeled into the mattress. You bend your arms to lay in front of you, elbows sighing in relief for being contracted instead of stretched. You close your eyes and rest your head on his pillow for what seems like a millisecond, but when you open them back up Ezra has returned with two glasses of water, a washcloth and a juice box. 

He folds the cloth into a triangle, dips a corner into a glass and then brings it behind you. The icy water feels good on your overheated skin as he wipes away his cum before it has the chance to dry. Once he cleans you off, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to your depleted frame. He sets the cloth down and picks up the other glass of water, “Drink this, sweetheart.” You prop yourself up on your forearms and gulp some much needed fluids down as Ezra holds the glass steady against your mouth. You hold up a weak hand when you’ve had your fill and he finishes off the drink. You never thought you would find sharing a drink like this with someone stomachable, let alone wildly attractive. But Ezra had changed you; you wanted to exchange cells, germs, bodily fluids with him, no matter how nasty it sounded when put into words. 

Ezra trades the glass for the juice box and pops the straw into the opening, holding it up to your lips, “Drink some.” You curiously eye the juice box: apple flavored, the carton decorated in bright and childish cartoons. You tease him, “You know, when I said I might have a daddy kink, this is not what I meant.” 

You both laugh, and he pokes after a moment, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

As you take the straw into your mouth and drink, he places a hand on the back of your head and pets your hair, “That’s it, babygirl, do as Daddy says.” An air of laughter blows through your nose and you choke on the liquid as Ezra cackles. You drop the straw and cough, “Stop!” 

He continues to laugh at you while you whine, “Why do I have to drink this anyways, can’t I just have water?” 

He calms himself down and shakes his head, “No, I want to replenish your blood sugar. Otherwise you might feel faint, and not in a good way.” He shoots you a wink and you take another sip of the juice. 

When you’re done, he puts the half-empty box back on the nightstand and lays on top of you. You joke, “You’re crushing me and you told me I have to pee right after.” 

Since sleeping together, Ezra had realized how little knowledge of aftercare you had. He had advised you to go to the bathroom as soon as possible after the deed is done in order to avoid urinary tract infections, among other pains. He nuzzles into your shoulder and protests, “In a minute.” 

Taking into account the history of his comment and your increasingly heavy eyelids, you rebut, “You know that never happens.” More often than not, when Ezra trapped you in a cage of cuddles directly afterward like this, the two of you would fall asleep and you would skip the trip to the bathroom. He grunts and moves his weight off of you, “Fine, but I’ll only let you go if I can carry you in there.” You barely have time to begin laughing before he’s swooping you up into his arms. 

After you both use your respective time in the bathroom, you and Ezra dress in matching pajamas and climb into bed. Coddling you into his broad chest, his fingers dance on the back of your neck and your lower back. You turn your head up to face him and when he returns your gaze you reference the whole night, “Thank you.” 

A smile crinkles his tired eyes, “The pleasure was all mine, Goose. Thank you for taking it all so well. Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Only if you will too.”

“Sure thing, my love.”

He gives you a kiss before you retreat back into the sanctuary of his embrace. Right as you’re drifting off to sleep, he adds, “I would like to ravage you one more time, in the morning.” 

Your smirk pulls at the fabric of his shirt, “Okay. But no daddy kink. We have to save some things to explore when we come back.” 

He hums, pressing his cheek into the top of your head before the two of you succumb to the temptation of sleep, “As you wish.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

[nyctophilin]

Fake Affection | III

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Epilogue

Description: Han Jisung has been rejected by the girl he likes one to many times. He decides that he has had enough and is set on making her want him back. What could possibly make her want him more than seeing him with her rival after she boldly assumed he can’t find anyone better. That way Jisung and Y/N are stuck in a fake relationship until Jisung’s crush falls for him. Or he falls for someone else.

All rights reserved © nyctophilin 2020. Re-posting, copying and translating any of my works is prohibited.

Pairing: Han x fem!Reader, Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Genre: College!AU, Fake dating!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: swearing, mild groping, mild violence

Pearl note -> This got long. Yeah, things got interesting in this part. :)) Also, I realized I forgot to add something so I had to come back last minute and edit it. Yeah, sorry for the delay. :/ I hope y’all enjoy it! Feedback is very much appreciated.

      The sun was shining brightly despite it being almost 6 PM. The temperature outside reached unusually high numbers for that time of the year, and Y/N decided to take advantage of that. Dressed in a forest green spring dress that reached her mid-thighs and offered a modest view of her cleavage, she was waiting for Jisung in front of her apartment complex. The dress she was wearing had short sleeves, but she decided not to take any jackets with her thanks to the weather forecast that predicted the temperatures to be high until later in the night.

      She was clutching the strap of her purse tightly and impatiently checking the time on her phone every few minutes. It has been such a long time since she went on a date. Just because she was going there to make Mina jealous didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. What better way to convince the other girl that she missed on a lot of fun than have fun?

      Coming from the left side, she heard the sound of an engine approaching. Soon, a black Range Rover came to a gradual stop right in front of her, the front wheel almost climbing the sidewalk. From inside the car, Jisung gestured her to get in. She opened the door and climbed in, placing her purse over her knees before fastening her seatbelt.

      Without much of a word, Jisung turned the steering wheel and started driving to a destination unknown to Y/N.

      “I didn’t know you had a car.” She spoke, trying to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

      Jisung threw her a look before concentrating on the road again.

      “It’s Chan’s. He let me borrow it for today.” A long sigh left his mouth. “After a long talk where he told me that if I hurt his baby, I’m dead.”

      Y/N let out a chuckle, and Jisung smiled as well, as the memory of the silly conversation he had with the older man flooded his mind. Another minute passed, and the silence in the car was being filled by the pop music coming from the radio.

      “You look pretty!” Jisung complimented, stealing another glance at her.

      A bright smile invaded her facial features at his words. 

      “Thank you! I didn’t know where we were going, but I figured a dress would be appropriate for many activities.” She chirped, the tiniest bit of excitement rolling off her tongue.

      “What if we are going hiking?” Jisung said, and a smirk appeared on his face when he noticed her rolling her eyes from the corner of his eye.

      “Then you can turn the car. I’m not coming!” Y/N crossed her hands under her chest and her mouth formed into a small pout.

      “I’m joking. We are going to an outdoor cinema.”

      She gave him a side look and raised an eyebrow.

      “No offence, but how do you know when outdoor cinemas are happening? They don’t seem…” She eyes him up and down on the driver’s seat. “...your style.”

      Jisung resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her comment. After a moment of silence, he sighed silently accepting her words.

      “Mina told me about it three weeks ago. She said it was a rom-com she really wanted to see. We planned to go together.” He explained taking a right turn.

      “Then how do you know if she’s going to come if you planned to go together. I don’t know if you realised, but you are supposed to be dating me, and she’s dating no one. Girls don’t usually go to this kind of thing without a boyfriend or a potential one.”

      “There’s this guy from Theatre and Film that she used to hook up with when I wasn’t around. I know from someone that they are coming together.” 

      Y/N let a pitiful smile involuntarily invade her features. It was kind of pathetic how he knew about her whereabouts and still didn’t say anything. She understood that they weren’t together, but they were heavily flirting and behaving like a couple, hence why she and a lot of other people thought they were actually in a relationship.

      She let her teeth sink in the flesh of her bottom lip holding back from telling him a piece of her mind. He was old enough. He knew what he was doing. Or at least she hoped he did.

      The rest of the way to the outdoor cinema was spent in silence. The only audible sounds being the radio and Jisung’s soft humming from time to time. When they reached, their destination Y/N got out of the car and let Jisung find a parking spot somewhere further away from the location of the cinema due to the parking there overflowing with vehicles.

      Checking her phone, she noticed the time indicating 7:17 PM, and only then she realised how much time they spent in the car. Walking lazily on the pathway to where space was designated for blankets and chairs she saw a sea of people. Maybe not really a sea but there were enough people to fill two of the auditorium in their university.

      For a second she thought she'd lay out the blanket, but then she remembered the only thing she had on her was her purse. On top of that, they needed to ‘accidentally’ bump into Mina and her date and hope they end up sitting next to each other.

      Just as she was thinking about that a squeal deafened her and a pair of delicate arms wrapped around her. When the girl let go of her, and she met Mina’s face, she grimaced, but she regained her composure fast. She smiled at her and her date, a guy she had seen occasionally in some of her classes.

      “What a coincidence you are here!” Mina’s fake excitement was pissing her off. Coincidence her ass. Y/N was sure she knew they were going to be there.

      “Yeah, what a small world.” She gave the two a visibly fake smile and prayed for Jisung to hurry.

      “Are you alone?” The girl asked, moving her head in different directions as if she was looking for the person she came with.

      “No. I actually came with Jisung.” As if on cue Jisung appeared from behind the two, a blanket in hand.

      “Are you looking for me, princess?” A jolt of surprise went through her at the new nickname he used, but she didn’t let it show.

      Observing the angry expression on Mina’s face at his words, she figured that was how he used to call her before they broke up whatever they had going on. She surpassed a smirk from painting her lips.

      “Mhhm.” She extended her hand, which he gladly held and went in for a short kiss. “Look who I found. Isn’t it lovely seeing your friends here?” She sarcastically said, smiling up at him.

      “You guys should come sit with us!” Mina’s date said, and a victorious smile spread across her face.

      “We’ll love to if that is okay with Mina, of course. We wouldn’t wanna disrupt you!” Y/N faked concern and gave Mina doe eyes.

      Mina’s jaw slightly clenched before immediately relaxing and letting out a forced giggle.

      “Of course you can. Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

      After that, the four of them went and found a place at the back of the crowd where they could sit. It wasn’t exactly the back of the crowd since there were some more people behind them, but they were reasonably behind. 

      Jisung spread the blanket on the fluffy grass, and Mina’s date, whose name she found out was Jay, did the same as Jisung. Their blankets were almost touching, the distance between them millimetric. 

      There were still 20 minutes before the movie was supposed to start. They sat down on the blankets, and Y/N stretched her legs, finally relaxing for not having to stand on the platform shoes she was wearing.

      “So, are you guys dating or…” Jay asked, fixing his body position so he could see them better.

      Y/N rolled her eyes at his question. The guy wasn’t the best at reading the room.

      “Of course we are. Why would we be here together if we weren’t?” Annoyance was dripping off her tongue. She only wanted to relax for a bit before having to spend two hours watching some boring rom-com.

      “Oh…” His voice sounded almost disappointed as his gaze lingered a second too long on her exposed legs. “Mina and I are not a couple. And since she and Jisung have had a thing before, I thought...” He bit his bottom lip while looking at her thighs that were pretty much bare thanks to her dress riding up when she sat down. “Never mind!” 

      Y/N shifted uncomfortably and placed her hands on her thighs in an attempt to cover them even a little. Mina wasn’t aware of her date’s actions as her eyes were concentrated on Jisung and on the way he looked under the golden rays of the sun that was preparing to set.

      Jisung, however, was burning holes with his eyes into the other man’s head. Upon seeing him biting his lip while looking at Y/N in a less than appropriate way, he felt an unexplainable feeling of rage penetrate his body. What he wanted to do at that moment was to get up and punch that pig into next week for daring to look at her like that. But he kept his composure and decided not to make a big deal out of it. 

      There was literally no reason for him to get that angry. Besides the apparent reason that it made her uncomfortable and he shouldn’t allow something like that, especially when he is playing her boyfriend. But the sudden feeling to rip his head off filled him with turmoil.

      Jisung decided to ignore it for now, and he took his jacket off and placed it over her legs. Her head shot in his direction, confusion and at the same time relief present in her eyes.

      “What is that?” She asked, trying to act unaffected by Jay’s actions.

      “I just thought you might sit more comfortably with this over your legs. It stops unwanted attention.” He subtly glared at Jay, but he didn’t seem to pay him any mind as his eyes were now fixed on Mina’s chest.

      “Thank you!” She said, bringing the jacket further up to cover her thighs better.

      Jisung inched just a little bit closer to her and cupped her face. Placing his lips on hers, he forcefully pushed his tongue in her mouth, taking her by surprise. He made sure their heads were positioned in such a way that the two on the blanket next to them will be able to see the exchange of their mouths. 

      Mina was watching Jisung drag his tongue inside Y/N’s mouth, his eyes closed in satisfaction. The exchange wasn’t rushed, and the way his thumb would caress her cheek so gently had her bursting with jealousy. Jisung had never kissed her like that. Their kisses were always rushed and sloppy, driven by sexual needs.

      When she first heard about their little relationship, she laughed. She thought it was some kind of stupid joke. But then she saw how they behaved. The kisses, the hugs, the hand holding, how he would always have a hand around her shoulders. In the three days, they dated he showed Y/N more love than he showed her in a year and a half.

      Her initial plan was to tease him a little bit, then finally accept to be his girlfriend. She didn’t think he'd go and find himself a girlfriend. And especially not her. From all the people he could choose it had to be her. Looking at them now, Mina regretted her decision.

      Jisung broke the kiss and looked into her fluttering eyes before placing a peck on her nose. Y/N was sitting there dizzy from everything that happened. His sudden boldness left her speechless and burning hot from the embarrassment of being seen doing something like that.

      She wanted to question him. Ask him why he suddenly did something like that. However, a loud sound erupted from the speakers surrounding them, signaling the start of the movie. So she focused her vision on the big cloth in front of her and decided to ignore it.

      She shivered discreetly as a wave of cold hit her body. The movie was only half done, and with the midnight approaching slowly, a chilly air adorned their surroundings. The weather forecast predicted high temperatures, but at that moment she was far away from her city, and so the weather was different.

      Y/N rubbed one of her arms with her hand, regretting not taking a jacket with her just in case something like that was to happen. From the corner of his eye, Jisung noticed her actions, and he leaned in close to her to whisper in her ear.

      “Hey, are you ok?” His hot breath on her ear made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

      “Yeah, I’m just a little bit cold. I’ll be fine!” She whispered back giving him reassuring eyes.

      Jisung thought for a second of what he could do. He didn’t have another jacket, and he didn’t want her to uncover her legs. At least not when Jay was around. An idea finally struck him, and he softly called her name, catching her attention again.

      When she turned to look at him, he tapped the space between his spread legs. Y/N raised an eyebrow at his gesture.

      “What does that mean?” She sounded a little bit annoyed.

      “Come sit here. I’ll cuddle you so you won’t be cold anymore.” Y/N threw him a weirded out look. “We are ‘dating’. No one will find it weird. Or you could just stay there and freeze to death.” The man explained his voice a little bit louder than before.

      She pondered his offer for a bit before getting up and making her way between his legs. She let herself fall backwards until her back hit his chest softly. Jisung put his arms around her, and warmth started enveloping her almost instantly. Y/N let out a purr at the newfound comfort, and her eyes shot open at the realisation of what she just did.

      “Hey, don’t get too comfortable, you hear me? I’m doing this just because Mina might be watching.” She warned, her voice stern hoping he missed her last action.

      Jisung rolled his eyes but decided not to bring up the sound she just let out. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the newfound proximity. Only so they can make Mina jealous. Right?

      They sat like that, none of them daring to move. For some reason, Jisung found the position really comfortable. A few days prior at the start of their relationship he found skinship really awkward but now it wasn’t like that anymore. It felt almost natural. Like they have been doing it for a long time.

      Some more time passed, but Jisung wasn’t sure how much. The movie was approaching its climax, and the man felt bored out of his mind. Was it really worth going through that only to get his dick wet? But then he remembered who he was doing it for. He was doing it so he and Mina, the girl who he has been in love with for the longest time, could finally be together. And when it happens, he will be able to slide his hand through her silky hair, and feel her smooth skin and kiss her soft lips without having to call it a friendly gesture.

      His trail of thoughts was interrupted by a quiet mumbling coming from Y/N. Her voice was so small that Jisung couldn’t hear her.

      “What?” He leaned his head down in order to hear her when she talks.

      For a minute, there was silence. Thinking that she didn’t hear him, Jisung wanted to repeat the question when a puff of air left her mouth. Right after, she turned slightly to the side, pushing her head more against his chest, and that is when he realised that she fell asleep.

      An involuntary smile tugged at his lips, and his heart started beating faster. He couldn��t explain why he was so happy about it. It was going to be a pain in the ass. Having to wake her up and wait for her to recover from her dazed form. They were going to be the last ones to leave after the movie was over.

      A whistle-like noise left Y/N’s nose when she expired the cold air of the night, and his smile turned into a grin. Jisung moved a few strands of hair from her face before wrapping his hands better around her to keep her warm. He placed a kiss on top of her head and rested his chin on her head, swaying slightly while continuing to watch the movie.

      If you were to ask Mina what has happened so far in the movie, she couldn’t give you an answer. As much as she wanted to see the film, the girl’s eyes seemed to be more interested in whatever was happening on the blanket on her left. 

      She watched as they were cuddling and whispering to each other things she couldn’t hear. Then Y/N fell asleep, and Jisung seemed to be even more loving, hugging her even tighter and kissing her. She was wondering if he has ever done that to her on the many nights they shared a bed.

      Mina never thought she would be that affected by the fact that Jisung has found himself a girlfriend. After all, he was just one of the many boys she was hooking up with. She never thought she would have feelings for him, but here she was, being jealous of the last person she ever thought she would.

      She had to somehow get the boy back. She wanted to see it as a challenge, but she couldn’t. It had barely been two weeks since they ‘broke up’ and scarcely four days since he started dating that perfect little missy. Love doesn’t fade away that fast. She’ll have him back in no time.

      Y/N felt someone shaking her arm gently, and she mumbled some incoherent words, pushing the hand away. She was sleeping so well, she didn’t want to wake up. A hand pushed a hair strand that was ticking her nose out of the way before grabbing her shoulder and shaking it again. She groaned in annoyance.

      “Wake up, Y/N! You have to go home. Unless you want me to take you to my place.” Someone whispered close to her face, and her eyes fluttered open, trying to make up her surroundings.

      The first thing she saw when she finally managed to blink the sleep away was Jisung’s smirking face. God, he was so annoying. Ignoring him and looking around, she noticed she was in his parked car in front of her apartment complex. She vaguely remembered falling asleep, but she doesn’t remember waking up to get to the car.

      “How did I get here? Did you wake me up?” Y/N asked, straightening her body and inhaling the cold air of the night.

      Jisung held her hand and helped her out of the car before slamming the door closed. He let her lean against the front door and opened the back door to fish her purse from the back seat.

      “I didn’t. You were way too cute when you shut up. Like a little obedient kitty. I had to enjoy the moment a little bit longer.” He teased, putting a hand around her waist and making their way to the entrance in the complex.

      Y/N scoffed at his childish remark but decided to ignore it. She didn’t have the necessary energy to argue with him.

      “So you carried me to the car? What about the blanket and the other stuff you had there? Did you go back for them?”

      “No, I had Jay get them for me, so I don’t wake you up.” 

      Stopping in front of the elevator, Jisung pushed the button, and they waited a few seconds for the doors to open. Stepping inside, Y/N pushed the button for the third floor before leaning back against Jisung.

      “Talking about Jay. Thank you for today!” The man threw her a questioning look, acting as nonchalant as he could.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Don’t act dumb! I know you didn’t give me your jacket just because you are nice like that. You saw how he looked at me.” She wanted to sound more aggressive, but her voice came out soft and calm since she was still sleepy.

      Jisung found that adorable but surpassed a smile. Adopting a disinterested expression, he spoke.

      “He did? I didn’t notice. I just thought that, as your boyfriend, I shouldn’t let everyone see your underwear.” Y/N punched him in the stomach lightly, and Jisung dramatically bent down, letting out a fake grunt.

      “You are such an asshole!”

      A loud ding echoed in the restricted space, and the doors opened, revealing the dirty wall of the third floor. They stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked down the hallway to where Y/N’s apartment door was. Taking her purse from Jisung’s hand and finding her keys, she unlocked the door and opened it.

      She leaned against the door frame and looked up at Jisung, giving him a bright smile.

      “I'd like to say that I had fun, but I fell asleep halfway through the date.” She giggled, trying to mask her embarrassment. “But it was nice getting out of the house. Thank you for today!”

      The man put his hands in his jean’s pockets and scoffed.

      “You are lucky Mina got upset by you sleeping on me. Otherwise, I would have gotten angry. My shoulders are so stiff from having to support your weight. I might not recover for a few days.” A fake pained groan left his throat, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

      Lifting herself on her tiptoes, she placed one hand on his shoulder and brought his head lower. She connected her lips with his in a short kiss. Breaking the kiss, she stepped inside her apartment and kept the door open enough for her head to be visible.

      “See you on Monday!” With that, she closed the door all the way and made her way into her bedroom.

      She wasn’t sure what was the time, but it must have been well past 11 PM. Taking off the dress, she discarded it on the floor before grabbing the oversized t-shirt from the back of the desk chair. She put it on and threw herself on the bed, letting the sheets envelop her body before falling asleep.

      Y/N’s eyes shot open, and her mouth fell open as the realisation of what she did only moments prior sank in. Putting the back of her hand over her forehead and exhaling deeply, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed. Why did she kiss him? She’ll never interact with anyone while she’s still drunk on sleep.

      Meanwhile, Jisung that just exited the complex couldn’t contain his smile. He couldn’t understand why that was happening. They kissed before to make Mina jealous. But maybe that was precisely the reasons such an insignificant gesture brought him so much joy. Mina was nowhere near. A spark erupted in his stomach at the thought that the girl might have a crush on him.

      “Do it again! With more love this time. Come on. You want me! You desire me!” Y/N ordered to Jeongin.

      The man let out a frustrated groan, using the script to cover his eyes from the brightness of the sun.

      Both of them, Hyunjin and Jisung, were outside, in front of the university. They had a free period and decided to practice the script for the short movie they were playing in. Hyunjin, although not part of the film itself, was always with them thanks to Mrs. Bae’s affinity towards him. 

      Jisung, however, was new in the picture. Ever since they went on that date a week and a half ago, he seemed to be spending more time with her. She felt mildly suffocated by that but decided not to question it. As long as he wasn’t distracting her from her usual activities, she didn’t mind him tagging along.

      “You don’t make desiring you really easy. We’ve done it four times already. We will start filming in three months. I don't have to be perfect right now!” Jeongin exclaimed letting his body fall on the bench on which Jisung and Hyunjin were seated.

      “Hey! Be careful of what you say. My girlfriend is very, much desirable!” Jisung said in a jokingly offended tone earning disgusted groans from the other two men.

      “Really dude? I could have lived my life without knowing that information.” Jeongin started fanning himself with the script. It was a sweltering day.

      “I don’t understand why you are here. You are only four-wheeling us.” Hyunjin remarked, earning himself a dirty look from Jisung.

      “A car needs all four wheels to be functional.”

      “Yeah, babe, but we are a tricycle.”

      Hyunjin, Jeongin and Y/N erupted into laughter at Jisung’s dumbfounded expression. From behind Y/N, they heard even louder laughter and Hyunjin scoffed at the scene unfolding under his eyes. 

      “I swear to God! Mina has been so annoying lately. Much more than when she used to hang out with Jisung. It’s as if she’s following us around.” The man rolled his eyes as he remembered how many times Mina ‘coincidentally’ happened to be in the same place as them the past week.

      “Tell me about it. And how she is always with Jay from our major. If I wanted to watch live porn, I would have signed up on one of those porn sites.” Jeongin seemed as annoyed as the other man.

      “Don’t stress about that guys. I’m pretty sure these are just coincidences.” Y/N tried telling them, even though she knew everything they said was right.

      “No, I’m pretty sure they are not. There’s someone between us whose attention she’s trying to catch.” Hyunjin gave Jisung a side look.

      “You can’t be sure of that.” She played dumb, wanting more than anything to change the subject.

      “ Oh, please! She’s always watching him. In the cafeteria, when we are hanging around on our free periods, when she’s kissing that loser. It’s like he’s a good movie she can’t tear her eyes from.” Jeongin snapped, tired of the whole situation.

      “Then let’s give them something to look at!” Jisung smirked smugly.

      “What do..”

      In the next second, Y/N has been pulled on Jisungs lap, and he captured her lips in an urgent kiss. One hand was on the nape of her head forcefully holding her in the kiss, and the other one was on her ass cheek, squeezing it. 

      She heard someone awkwardly clearing their throat from her right, and all her senses heightened. Y/N placed her hands on Jisung’s shoulders and tried lightly pushing him away while uncomfortably shifting in his lap. As a response, the man groaned lowly and slid his hand from her neck to her chest, cupping it.

      Her eyes widened in shock at his action and mustering all the force she had in her, she pushed him away, finally breaking the kiss. A loud bang ringed around them as her hand made contact with his cheek. Jumping off his lap, she gathered her bag from the leg of the bench.

      “You are a fucking asshole!” She shouted in his face before storming off inside the university.

      The stomping of her boots was echoing in the empty halls, and the few students that were around decided to make her space to pass. Her thinking was clogged at the moment, and all she could feel was rage and shame. She was angrily making her way down the halls, but her destination was uncertain. She just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

      Y/N heard quick steps from behind her, and a hand pulled at her shoulder. Without turning around, she shrugged it off and started walking faster. The person behind her also increased their walking speed, but this time around, they grabbed her wrist.

      Just as she was preparing to scream in their face, she was pulled into a hug, her face forced into a firm chest. Y/N felt herself calm down as the smell of a cologne she grew accustomed to in the last week invaded her lungs. His hand was gently rubbing her back, and she relaxed under her touch.

      “Are you okay?” Hyunjin whispered softly in her ear.

      She hid her face more in his chest, feeling shame overcome her.

      “I’m sorry you had to see that. I swear it’s not what you think! We’ve never…” Her voice was shaky, as if she was about to cry. Hyunjin cupped her face forcing her to look in his eyes. She could see concern and sadness hiding behind his brown orbs.

      “Why are you apologising to me? You are the one who’s been wronged here. I just wanna make sure you are okay.” His soft voice was acting as a calmative for her racing heartbeat.

      Y/N felt her insides flip at his caring words. His hands on her cheeks were hot, and she decided to blame them for the blush that acaparated her face.

      “Hey! Step away from my girlfriend, you motherfucker!” Jisung’s voice filled her ears, and she saw Hyunjin roll his eyes.

      The warmth of his body left her, and he crossed his arms as Jisung finally arrived in front of them. Hyunjin was looking down at the other man, and both their expressions were filled with anger.

      “I was just making sure she’s fine. It looks like you took your time deciding to do the same.” The taller man spat venom dripping off his tongue.

      “It’s none of your business how I handle my relationship!” Jisung adopted a louder tone bringing his face closer to Hyunjin’s.

      “But it is when you decide to act like a bitch in heat and make your girlfriend uncomfortable. This is why Mina never dated you and why you and Y/N won’t last long!”

      Jisung clenched his jaw upon hearing the other man’s words, and before anyone could register what was happening, he plunged his fist into Hyunjin’s face.