#oh shoot should i have linked the fics i mentioned ......

[charlottesbookclub]

i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ���️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

            The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

            You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

            You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

            Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

            At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

            You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

            And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

            Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

            The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

            You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here. 

            But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

            You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

            When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

            “Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

            “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

            He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

            “Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

            “It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

            “But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

            “You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit. 

            Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were? 

            Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

            Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

            “See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

            Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

            “Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

            You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

            “And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

            “Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

            “Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

            “Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

            “What’s the risk?”

            “The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

            “That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remained pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms. 

            “Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

            “No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

            “Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

            “Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

            He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

            “This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

            “I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

            “But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

            “I’m right here.”

[penelopeswifey]

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

CHAPTER 2 —

oh!

—

a/n: help hi I'm sorry for like ignoring this smau for a month oh my gosh 💔💔 anyway happy late Halloween !! 🎃🎃 this one's rather short .. ILL MAKE UP FOR IT .. I SWEAR 🙏 I'll try double updating tmrw 😁

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, groaning. Already pissed off. The last thing he needed was another pointless social media drama. with another sigh, he  opened Twitter, half-expecting some mundane gossip and rumours about his latest performance.

But.

Instead, his timeline was flooded with tweets mentioning him, it wasn't shocking.. but it was mixed with a name he didn't recognize.. @ynrambles..? He blinked, confused, scrolling past endless tags and mentions. The tweets were… something..

" scarasmicrophone: just thinking about yns situation makes ME embarrassed and I don't even know the mf "

" vortexspublicdefender: lowkey I can't even be mad at yn, the fics are GOOD. likee .. 🫦 "

He frowned, extremely confused. Pausing over a thread where fans discussed you, your recent slip up, and a fanfiction he hadn’t even known existed.

“ What the hell.. "  he muttered, opening your profile. What he found made his eyebrows shoot up. Sure enough, your latest post had blown up, showing a clip from your stream where you had, very awkwardly, confirmed writing a certain fanfiction.

Curiosity piqued, he tapped a link someone had shared, leading to the fanfic in question. The summary alone was enough to make his jaw clench, not in anger, but in absolute disbelief. How.. how could someone be so shameless?!.. no.. no, his fans on twitter were worse.

“ Holy shit.. " he mumbled, as the realization settled in. From what he gathered, Fans have made it very clear that you were both a somewhat popular streamer and the writer of a VERY detailed (and strangely accurate..) story about his fictional alter ego.

For a moment, he could only sit there, wondering how to respond—or if he even should.. but the thought of someone talking mad shit about him, just to be publicly humiliated for liking him was way too entertaining for him to let go.

He quickly typed in a message to they're DMS, and hit send.

—

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

SYPNOSIS: You, a well-known streamer, have always kept your two hobbies separate. By day, you entertain thousands with your snarky commentary, but by night, you secretly write. fanfiction about your favorite idol, Balladeer. It was a guilty pleasure—until a late-night stream led to a slip of the tongue and exposed your secret to the world!

In a single moment of poor judgment and a misclick, which by the way was totally not your fault!.. I think.. clips and memes about you spread like wildfire! It was embarrassing enough for everyone to know about your fanfiction, but it spiraled down even further when they discovered you were writing about the very idol you  constantly claimed was overrated.

Just as you wallowed in self-pity, a notification pings on your phone. A familiar username and a blue checkmark.

Shit.

accidentally yours masterlist - chapter 3 —>

—

taglist:

@kaeuri @kazumiku @kyouzki @skyoverkill1 @flowzel @lalalaloveallmydays @sketcheeee @vi0let-writes @kunikuzushis-darling @js-a-silly-little-guy @simonisferal @jayzioxx @naevis-callingae @vxmp-loml @dxrling-xing @suzueuieeeee @kinanahana @help-whatdoimakemyusername @dearanemo @heusalettle @v4lerixxq @catorkitty @khsuvy

[whenthedeeppurplefalls]

Thief!

- a Lumpytouch Where’s Waldo fic

Rated T for language and very mild content

Summary: Waldo steals something from the detective.

This fic contains: canon typical violence, mention of blood, nonconsensual kissing, and swearing.

——-

Icy wind rushed around the detective as he raced down the dark alleyway. He was hot on the striped killer's tail after yet another bloody crime scene was discovered, and this time he wasn’t going to let him get away. This time, he was so close he could practically reach out and touch him.

“ Stop!” The detective shouted, fully aware he wouldn’t be listened to. He knew damn well Waldo would never surrender himself. It didn’t stop him from trying, though. Too many people had died from this monster.

For once, though, fortune seemed to be on his side. He was gaining on Waldo, his prize now drawing closer and closer, his skin crawling in anticipation of finally putting an end to Waldo’s reign of terror. His heart leapt in excitement as the sight of a chain link fence came into view- Waldo wouldn’t be able to get past that. Climbing it would take him time- time for the detective to shoot him, or even grab him.

The detective smiled bitterly. No matter how the night ended, he knew one thing for sure- Waldo would be behind bars. The monster who killed his friend would pay for his crimes at last.

As the gate- and Waldo- drew nearer, Waldo suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Startled, the detective had to stumble to avoid crashing into him. He staggered back a few feet, not terribly eager to have skin to skin contact with the killer.

Waldo paused for a moment, then turned to face him, wide smile never leaving his face.

“Well, detective.” He said. “I guess there’s nowhere for me to run.” He cocked his head. “Oh, whatever will I do?”

The detective didn’t bother dignifying that with an answer. Instead, he reached into his holster, pulling his gun on the criminal.

“You are under arrest.” The detective began, a little overeager. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you-”

Waldo silently watched him with the eyes of a hungry animal, quiet and hunting. It filled the detective with unease, and he clutched his gun tighter, raising it to point higher.

“Put your hands up.” The detective commanded. Waldo tilted his head in a rather sickening way. His hands remained limp by his sides, clutching his cane. “ Put your hands up, dammit!” The detective raised his voice. Waldo’s grin widened.

“ PUT-”

“You’re young, aren’t you?” Waldo interrupted. Confused, the detective faltered.

“Wh-”

“I like you.” Waldo continued. “Oh, I like you so much better than McGuy, Detective.”

The detective reddened in… anger? Had to be. He thrust his gun at the killer once again. “Shut the fuck up. Last warning, then I shoot-”

Waldo was clearly not listening. His eyes flicked up to something behind the detective- just over his head. Before the detective had connected the dots, something hard and rounded hooked around his neck, yanking him backwards. Shit! How could he let his guard down enough to forget about the doppelgangers? He cried out roughly, a hoarse “ NO!” As he fell flat. In the few seconds he scrambled to get to his feet, he heard a telltale crack of static that had him swearing through clenched teeth. As he stood, he now saw what should have been so evident before- Waldo was now standing on the other side of the fence, grinning at him from between the metal bars.

“Oh, how embarrassing for you.” Waldo said with a chuckle. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

The detective scowled, rushing forward to grasp at the bars of the fence. Waldo stepped back, though he didn’t exactly need to. They both knew the Detective had no way of getting him now. Frustrated, the detective gave the fence a rattle. Nothing.

“You bastard.” He snarled, clawing out through a gap to attempt to get even the slightest grasp on the killer. No luck. Waldo openly laughed this time, reminded more of a kitten pawing through the door of its cage.

“Oh, you’re a sight, detective.” He chuckled, leaning forward. “I’m going to look forward to our next meeting.”

The detective snarled again, this time managing to fit his (rather thin) arm through a gap in the fence to allow him to get closer to the killer. It seemed being on the smaller side had its advantages after all. This time, he managed to grab onto his sweater.

However… This didn’t work to his advantage after all. In a fluid motion, Waldo grabbed onto his arm, pulled him flush against the gate, and-

Kissed him through the gap.

Completely taken off guard, the detective’s mind went blank for just a moment, arms going limp, caught in Waldo’s grasp like an animal in a trap, eyes snapping open as Waldo kissed him. About two seconds later, realization and sanity kicked in. The detective squirmed frantically in Waldo’s hold, arm caught tightly in the killer’s steel grip. Disgusted (and strangely warm?) He yanked his head back, gasping for breath as Waldo cackled. He attempted to pull back, but Waldo simply yanked his arm again, once again pulling him flat against the fence. The detective gasped.

“You son of a bitch- let me go! What the hell is wrong with y-” And then, Waldo's other hand had caught his chin through another gap in the fence. The detective tensed, almost preparing for another kiss like the first, but this time Waldo simply… observed him. (Admiring him?) The Detective flinched, eyes closing instinctively.

Waldo turned his face this way and that for a moment, then snickered, releasing him, at last. With a choking gasp, the detective yanked his arm back before Waldo could change his mind. Then, he took several steps back. He wasn’t sure what that had been, or why he felt the way he did- all warm, dizzy, confused…

Waldo rested his weight on his cane, smirking after him so condescendingly. “You’re so much better.” He repeated. “Much better than McGuy.” Then, he tapped his cane. “I would say you enjoyed that.”

Frantic, confused, aroused, The detective frantically shook his head, then quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. (The thought had only just occurred to him.) “No.” He babbled. “No. No. You’re wrong.”

Waldo grinned, glasses reflecting like accusing spotlights. “Whatever you say, my sweet.” Then, he playfully waggled his fingers at him. “Run along, now. We both know you won’t catch me tonight… And you have a body to clean up.” Then, arms spread wide, he disappeared with yet another staticky crack as he disappeared, leaving the Detective alone, red in the face, panting, and terribly confused.

What was that?

…What was he going to tell Wenda?

———

Originally I had planned for this to be a 5 + 1 fic of all the different times Waldo had stolen a kiss from the detective, but I wanted to just hurry and get this posted. That being said, if you WOULD like to see this fic continued in that way, let me know.

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Come Back to Me

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+

Warnings: reader is super pissed, mentions of injury (slightly), lots of making out, quick and needy sex, p in v sex, unprotected sec (wrap it up kids), dash of angst but still fluffy

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Notes: First Jack fic of the year!!!! FINALLY! Back to my favorite cowboy and what a way to get back into writing him. This was fun to write based off this request! Thank you anon for the request and I hope it lives up to what you wanted! Thank you to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always and big thanks to all the new readers!! If you want to be added to my taglist please let me know!!

ao3 link 

This work is intended for adult eyes only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 or older. 

  People moved from your path with clear concern and worry. The look on your face clearly showed the rage you felt. Your boss and father was dragging behind you, calling after you trying to calm you down, but there was no use. These posh prick assholes came into your agency and shot one of your fellow agents. Not only that, but they messed with the one man you’d ever loved. That meant war. You would burn Kingsman to the fucking ground.

  “Ginger said he was going to be fine kiddo,” your father, Champ spoke as you stepped on the elevator that would lead to where sick bay was.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill that asshole for shooting him. He shouldn’t have been cleared to go out in the field,” you snapped as you turned to Champ.

  That shut his mouth, given he was the one who cleared him. The elevator doors opened and there stood Harry and Eggsy. One look in your direction and Eggsy’s eyes bulged.

  “Uh Harry maybe we should…”

  “Oh I don’t think so.”

  You stormed forward, pushing Harry against the glass that overlooked the hanger just outside.

  “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throttle you where you stand?!”

  “Look, Harry was out of line but Whiskey is going to be okay.”

  Eggsy stepped forward, panic laced through his voice. He took one of your arms, Champ grabbing the other and they pulled you from Harry. He straightened his suit as you glared holes through him.

  “Get off me!” You shrugged both men off you and stepped back.

  “I believe Agent Whiskey may be…”

  “Harry don’t!” Eggsy pointed to him.

  “Oh no! Please finish your sentence, may what?”, the venom laced words almost spat from your mouth. You hadn’t even noticed your father had stepped away on the phone, until he returned.

  “We found where Poppy is. I’m sending you both with Merlin, now.”

  “You have to be kidding me!” You turned to him.

  “Listen kiddo, I understand, but you need to calm down. Go be with Jack.”

  You stood there, swearing steam was coming out of your ears. You glared at Harry one last time, before turning on your heels and headed into sick bay.

  “At least she’ll never let anyone run over her,” you heard Eggsy comment.

  “Just how I raised her.”

  Pride laced your fathers words, but even in that moment you couldn’t take it in. You were stopped dead at the sight before you. Jack was lying in one of the beds, still in his snowsuit and his head encased in a contraption of Statesman making. It was genius honestly and the invention had saved countless agents in the past. Most of them would tell anyone, they’d rather take a head shot than anywhere else. 

  “He is going to be fine but we both know what can happen,” Ginger spoke, making you jump slightly.

  “We won’t really know until he wakes up,” you let out a sigh, your anger gone and anxiety taking hold of you.

  “I gotta go help with the mission. Are you okay to stay with him?” Ginger placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you gave her a slight smile.

  “Yeah I got this,” you spoke softly and with that Ginger was gone.

  You let out a sigh and finally made yourself walk forward, sitting down in a chair next to the bed. All you could do now was wait. Your mind wandered to the worst case scenarios, and then it would skip to the feelings you kept buried so deep. Champ being your father and boss caused issues when it came to dating fellow agents, especially Jack. Your father loved him, like he did all his agents, but as he said all too often, “no one is good enough for my little girl.” You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice in your head. He really needed to move past that. Jack had been the only guy who you’d ever felt that pull with, and the temptation to beg your father to let you have this had been strong for a long time.

  You had absentmindedly taken Jack’s hand, lacing your fingers in between his. Then they twitched and your head shot up. The doors around Jack’s head opened suddenly and as he sat up, you stood. You backed up as he looked around, confusion clear on his face. Then his eyes snapped up at you, and a smirk pulled at his lips. You could tell by the way he looked at you with no recognition, that he had taken several steps back in life. You backed up again as he slid off the bed.

  “Well ain’t you the most beautiful thing to wake up to.”

  His voice held a different tone to it than it did normally. You tried to push the smile away, to keep from rolling your eyes, but you didn’t succeed in either. He started in, talking way too fast, with promises of taking you home and treating you right. You had to think fast how to snap him back to the present. Then an idea sprung to your mind and you threw caution to the wind. You stepped toward him now, causing him to stop. You reached up, taking his face in between your hands and smashed your lips against his, cutting him off mid sentence. It took him a few moments, a slight jump and then he was kissing you back, pulling you closer to him until you were desperate for air.

  “Well damn darlin’,” Jack chuckled back to himself.

  “There he is.” He gave you a questioning look. “You were young Jack again, trying to put the moves on me.”

  “I don’t have to be a younger me to do that,” he smirked down at you. “But thank you for bringing me back like that.”

  You searched his eyes and he seemed to be doing the same to you. Your heart pounded in your ears and you knew, right now, was the chance to finally just take the plunge.

  “Oh fuck it,” you panted and crashed your lips back to his.

  One arm stayed solid around your waist, as he kissed you back, the other coming up to your cheek, brushing hair away. He kissed you deeper, pulling you so close that you were as connected as you could be with clothes on.

  “Where’s Ginger?” He panted as he pulled away, backing you up toward the bed.

  “Not here,” was all you said before your lips collided again, and you melted into him.

  Jack skillfully turned you around, picking you up as he did and placing you on the bed. You opened your legs for him and he slid between them, never once letting his lips slip from yours. Everything was Jack, the sick bay slipped away, the thought of anyone coming in a distant thought. You didn’t care anymore, you needed him and you needed him now. The damn had broke and you were swept up in the flood of feelings taking over.

  “We need to be quick, unfortunately,” he kissed you again deeply. “But I promise I’m going to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

  He froze when your hand pushed on his chest slightly, your eyes connecting as something different danced there.

  “Jack I’ve wanted nothing more for a long time. It’s just…”

  “Champ.”

  “He’ll get over it. I’m an adult. It’s past time for him to let go.”

  He smiled then and let out a breath, before his lips were back on yours again. His hands wandered, slipping under your dress and up your thighs, making you shiver. You let out a whine against his lips, as he slipped your dress up to your midsection. He made quick work of pulling off the snowsuit he wore and freeing himself from his jeans. He pulled away panting as you laid down and he pulled you to the edge, before resting his forehead against yours. His eyes stayed connected to yours as he slipped your underwear off until you looked down, watching as he tucked them into his pocket. He smirked and you couldn’t stop one from pulling at your own lips.

  “You okay?” He spoke softly and you simply nodded your head.

  He pushed inside of you and the two of you let out your own noises of pleasure. Your eyes rolled and then fluttered shut at the feeling of him. He felt so perfect, like he was meant for you. His lips took yours again, as he started to move his hips gently but quickly.

  “You feel so damn good darlin’,” he groaned against your lips, pulling just away enough to speak.

  You couldn’t even respond. You were too overwhelmed with it all. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your fingers went to his hair. He moved quicker and just slightly harder, both of you desperate to hit your highs as quick as you could. Jack licked his two middle fingers, and snaked them between the two of you to rub your clit. You let out a loud moan, that was cut off by his lips, and you snapped. Your body shook and you grabbed at him in every way possible, like a vice. He took over every single one of your senses, driving your through your high. You heard him, almost from far away, groaning in your ear as his head slumped to your shoulder as he shuddered through his own release. Both of your bodies relaxed in unison, and you panted for only a few moments longer. You desperately wished he didn’t have to move away, that this moment didn’t have to end. Reality sucked that way. He pushed himself away reluctantly and pulled out of you, making you hissing at the loss of him. He fixed himself and then helped you, both of you still dazed and humming with the afterglow.

  “What happens now?” the fear in your voice evident.

  “I’m not real sure darlin’, but I know I want to continue this and, maybe, take you on a real date sometime. That’s, if you’ll have me. And your pops doesn’t kill me.”

  You both let out a chuckle.

  “Jack I’ve wanted this for a really long time. I’ve just, always been worried about so many way this could go wrong, but seeing you lying on that bed…I…I knew I needed to just take the jump, and hope you caught me.”

  “I’ll always catch you darlin’,” he bent, kissing your forehead gently, and you smiled beaming bright.

  “Guys we have a problem,” Ginger burst in to the room, looking between the two of you in shock, before shaking her head slightly.

  “What’s going on?”

  Jack spoke, but his voice sounded off to you, suddenly. You studied him as Ginger went into the details of the mission and the loss of Merlin. Jack asked her to get his jet ready, and you followed him to his office where he could change. Something had shifted in his demeanor and it made your stomach flip with dread. Something was wrong, you could feel it. He was slipping in to a jean jacket when you finally pushed the words out.

  “Jack,” he turned to you, eyes softening and eyebrows raising slightly. “Please come back to me. Whatever happens next, I want to figure it out with you.”

  The words came out soft, scared, as the instincts that had been honed in your time as an agent warned you of impending danger. He locked eyes with you and he seemed to wrestle with himself for far too long, before he physically wilted. Decision seemingly made he stepped forward, kissing your forehead again.

  “I promise I’ll come back to you darlin’,” you knew he meant it, could hear it in his voice, but it only made you relax slightly, intuition still telling you something was wrong.

  You stood there in his office and watched him leave, his promise ringing in your ears. All you could do, was wait.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedro​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @kaqua​ @novemberrain221​ @weasleywinchester​

[ohtobeleah]

Boundaries // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: A call comes in on your day off about a hostage situation. Dragging your husband Bradley and his best friend Hangman into an active crime scene, the situation could not have turned out any worse.

Warnings: NCIS x TopGun Cross over. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Gun violence. Shooting.

Word Count: 8k

Author Note: Holy shit we made it bois!! Here’s another instalment of to the NCIS Bradley Bradshaw series. If you haven’t read anything to do this this series—where have you been? The Masterlist is linked here for you and a special shout out to @belowtheharddeck300 for concepting with me the other day and inspiring this whole fic. Please also don’t forget about Minimal Losses which is another series intertwined with this! But for Jake Seresin. xx

“Are you enjoying that?” DiNozzo hissed from his seat in the back of your car, peering over into the front as he eyed off Bradley who'd been obnoxiously sipping on his green smoothie the entire car trip. 

“Oh, you mean my smoothie?” Rooster had been waiting for someone, anyone to bring it up. “Funny you should mention it because I really feel like it's missing something.” Inspecting the cup as if he didn't know what it was that was missing. He knew, oh boy did he know, and he was pissed. 

“He’s just upset because I finished his protein powder last night–” You were currently in the middle of moving boxes out of your townhouse into a storage facility. The process of moving across the country wasn't as easy as you originally thought it would be. But you knew it would all be worth it.

“You put it on your ice cream!” Bradley countered, oh he’d been waiting for this argument to kickstart. You could see it through the rear view mirror, the perplexed look of amusement Jake was giving you as he sat quietly in the back of your car. 

“Yeah and you left a tub of it at my house?” Your thought process had been this, surely Bradley had another tub of protein at his house in California. Whatever food or clothing or hygiene products he left behind whenever he came to stay with you in D.C, became fair game once he was gone. That was the unspoken rule you both had. It was hard being married and living separately, hence why you were in the process of a transfer out to California. To be closer to home. Your home. Bradley Bradshaw. “I didn't think you’d mind?” 

“I wrote my name on the lid!?” Bradley had slightly turned in his seat to face you a little more. He was seething. His smoothie tasted weird without the vanilla protein powder he always used. He thought he could trust his own wife to keep his things safe. Turns out you were just as bad as the rest of the people he chose to willingly surround himself with on a day to day basis. All vultures to some extent. 

“Who writes their name on things they then leave at their wife's house?” Your tone had changed, more annoyance than comic relief now shining through. That's what had drawn Jake Seresin into the conversation. He’d been trying not to get too heavily involved in whatever quarrel was going on in the front seat. 

“Do you still write your name on your underwear?” Jake finally intervened in the argument that was slightly getting out of hand. He came to Washington with Rooster to help him clear out the townhouse you'd been living in since well, since you first moved out of home really. It was a pretty big task, but Jake was just grateful to have a full week off work. 

“Only to mark my territory–” 

“Poor choice of words there Bradshaw.” DiNozzo snarled at the thought. Shaking the imagery of roosters tighty whities out of his head. You chuckled softly as you stopped at a red light. Sighing because you didn't really want to continue the conversation but in a desperate attempt to preserve your personal beliefs on the matter, you ventured on strong headed.

“The bottom line is you're just really bad with personal boundaries.”

“Oh!” Bradley exclaimed to the heavens above as DiNozzo and Jake burst into laughter they couldn't control. Sending the two men who sat with a box between them a look they'd never forget. 

“Is something funny?” 

“You two? Having a discussion about boundaries?” DiNozzo mocked as you sat back with a groan. His lumbar had been acting up. You liked to tease him about the fact his hair was going grey and his bones were probably in early stages of osteoporosis. “Isn't that a little ironic?” 

“Mind explaining that?” Rooster smirked as he sipped his protein-less smoothie so obnoxiously you were about five seconds away from throwing the damn thing out the window.

“Most people bring their work lives home, you two bring your home lives to work.” Jake added as he backed diNozzo up. “Boundaries get blurry.” 

“Uh, no–Rooster and I keep our work lives and our personal lives incredibly separate– you didn't even know me until like two years ago.” It had been a code you both lived and breathed by. For the longest time Bradley Bradshaw kept his private life with you just that, separate. And you did the same, never mixing work with pleasure until it just seemed to melt. “I have a rule about that.” 

“Really?” DiNozzo challenged your theory, your hypothesis was about to be diminished into nothing. 

“Yeah–”

“What about that little display of affection the other day over on Lincoln at the stop light?” Crap, he had you with that one– remembering the way Roosters hands seemed to glide up your shirt as you kissed him with nothing but a centre console stopping you from jumping his bones right then and there. 

“Ha!--” Rooster cheeks had turned a nice shade of crimson red. Flushed with embarrassment. “I didn't know you guys were behind us.” For the past couple of months, Rooster had been registered with the Naval Criminal Investigative service as a liaison officer for the Fighter weapons school, also known as TopGun. There had been some odd going on with the newest class currently going through. Rooster was just happy to give whatever intel he’d managed to gather over to the right people. That particular car trip you'd both been on the clock. 

“And what about the fight about who gets the side of the bed closest to the bathroom?” Jake added as he yawned with a gaped mouth. He was used to thin walls from when he used to bunk in the dorms but it seemed as though the walls at your home were ten times thinner. Or maybe he just wasn't all that interested in hearing his best friend moan like a needy bitch for his wife. “Oh!” Jake snapped his fingers. “Or Rooster here telling us how Gibbs likes to hang dry her underwear in the living room?”

“Okay, one it’s Bradshaw to you and two you hang-dry your underwear too!” Although you’d been married for six months now– everyone was still getting used to calling you Agent Bradshaw or even just Bradshaw. To Hangman, you’d always be a Gibbs. His Gibbs. 

“Yeah, in the bathroom where things are supposed to hang dry.” Rooster couldn't help but to laugh after he held your gaze. He was just waiting for the slightest smirk to creep across your beautiful smug face. The second he saw it, that ever present glint of love in your eyes, he knew he was off the hook. “I hang them over the rail! I don't display them like a taxidermist pinning moths to a dart board like you do!” 

“And there it is, boundaries obliterated.” DiNozzo clapped, “More stuff I can never unhear.” 

It had been your phone ringing through your bluetooth that interrupted the eyeroll of the century as you drove. Rooster saw the caller ID showing and immediately pressed answer on your behalf, not wanting you to be distracted for even a second. 

“Hey Mcgee what's going on?” You greeted him with a soft smile you knew he wouldn't see but he would indeed hear in your voice. Both hands still on the wheel of your Sante Fe. The back was completely stacked with boxes, after a quick drop off, the four of you were going out for a small lunch break. 

“Hey Gibbs I just–” 

“It's Bradshaw Mc-know-it-all”!” Tony shouted, any chance he got to mess with his partner he took it no hesitation. 

“Right sorry, anyway, Uh listen I know you guys aren't working today but Gibbs and I just got a call about a hostage situation going down at Benny's  cafe’” Mcgee explained through the phone. He must have already been on the scene because all four of you could hear sirens in the background. “It's all hands on deck gang.” 

“We leave you unattended for one day and look what happens.” Tony quipped again as he stretched his arms above his head as high as he could. “Be there in twenty, we’ll drop the kids to daycare and be round as soo–” 

“Uh, yeah no.” Mcgee sighed as the slap he’d just copped to the back of the head echoed through your car. “Uh Gibbs says come now.” There was no time to drop Bradley and Jake back home. “Bring the kids.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The entire block had been evacuated as you ducked under cautionary tape strung up by on duty police officers. Flashing them your credentials, as you did so. It had gotten easier over time to wave people off–shrugging past with nothing but a soft “NCIS–” slipping past your lips. 

“Uh guys?” Rooster shouted after you and DiNozzo as you kept walking, the police officers had stopped the two off duty naval aviators at the tape. Sighing as you held the bridge of your nose, you gesture at the cops to let your husband and Hangman through. 

“They’re with us—“

“Ma’am this is an active crime scene.” One of the officers felt the need to remind you as you stared him down. Bradley placed his hand on your shoulder, shaking his head with pressed lips, scooting you along before you had a chance to shove your badge down the clearly just graduated beat cops throat.

“He’s not worth it.”

“Well I would’ve paid good money to see it.” Hangman smirked as he caught up. “So this is what a crime scene looks like?”

“Yeah, come on probie I’ll show you the ropes.” Tony teased as he roughed his hand on top of Jake's head, messing up his hair before making his way over to where your father stood with McGee. Taking in your surroundings as you followed DiNozzo over—your strides were smaller these days. Since becoming a married woman you were less and less inclined to be putting yourself in the line of fire if it could be helped. You’re ‘when’ still hopefully in the far distant future. 

“Do I get a badge?” Hangman smirked as he followed curiously. DiNozzo just side eyed him in response. “Damn, was kinda banking on a badge here—“ 

“You can have a vest? If that’ll shut you up.” 

“What have we got boss?” Bradley swore every time he saw Leroy Jethroy Gibbs he wore the same expression. Unimpressed and unimused. He was grateful though to see a glimpse of reassurance that his presence was justified. “I'm in the middle of moving across the country here, you concoct a whole ass hostage situation to keep me occupied or something?” As you crossed your arms across your chest and stood back a little, you were the spitting image of your father. 

“Because I’d go to these lengths to keep you around?” Gibbs cracks. “No—no, it seems the universe is telling you that your job here isn’t quite finished.” Rooster just admired from a distance as you worked. He noticed just how invested Jake was getting, it brought a temporary smirk to Roosters face. Until the feeling diminished into nothing at the explanation of what exactly was happening. 

“Able Seaman Theodore ‘Bomber’ Brown.” Mcgee started, fixing his own NCIS vest over his chest. Gearing up as DiNozzo handed one to Rooster. Gesturing for him to put it on before he put it on for him. For protection. A part of procedure. “For reason still unknown the guys walked in and has taken fourteen people hostage, only thing we might be able to see triggered the outburst would be the fact he was dishonourably discharged about three weeks ago, his attending officers said he was showing signs of mania, histeria–all claims Brown denys.” 

“Doesn’t seem too outlandish now, does it?” Tony replied with a huff. “You don't just randomly take fourteen people hostage for no apparent reason– gotta be something triggering the guy.” 

“Did you say Theodore Brown?” You knew your expression was one of concern as Bradley and Jake turned to listen to you more intently. Both wearing NCIS issued bullet proof vests. “I think I went to high school with him, yeah–his mother was a diagnosed schizophrenic.” You remembered the poor kid as clear a day, he didn't have all that much growing up but he had a decent smile and a heart of gold. “I remember him being heavily tormented by some stupid kids in the grade above us because of it.” 

“That would certainly explain something like this–” DiNozzo sassed. You shot him a look of disapproval. His accusing eyes staring directly back at you. 

“I wasn't insinuating anything, I'm just saying there's a high percentage of something like that being passed down through genetics. If it's underlying or even just undiagnosed he might be confused about what's going on.” 

“Since when are you an expert in behavioural analysis?” You could barely hear the question Tony had asked over the sirens and loud as all hell fire brigade horns rolling onto the scene. “I say we send her in for mediation if she already knows the guy.” Like a little light bulb moment when off inside your head, you raised a brow Tony’s way as he spoke– perhaps he was onto something? Maybe it would be the best idea for you to go in if Theodore was the Theodore you had known in high school? 

“I'm not an excerpt and I could be way off here, but if we’re already going off nothing, maybe DiNozzo has a valid point?” Shrugging your shoulders, you looked around all the men who stood around you. Two of which were quick to shut down the idea immediately. 

“No!” Jake frowned as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “As if you'd send the only women here into the line of direct fire are you kidding?” He didn't mean any malicious intent, you knew that. And you hadn’t taken the comment to heart because it was Jake. He cared enough about the people around him to want to protect them himself. In a situation like this though? He found himself rendered useless. 

“Not a chance–” Bradley shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line as his fist balled briefly by his side. “Nope, not happening.” Bradley however, knew he didn't have a say. He’d been around this bloke enough times to know the second someone held you no you wanted to do it ten times more. Even if it was out of spite. “You don't know what this guys even capable of?” The only thing that filled the heavy silence that lingered in the atmosphere around you were the sounds of obnoxious sirens. Looking up at your husband with so much love and admiration, you took his hand in yours. 

“I think you sometimes forget what I'm capable of too–” Bradley knew he was out of line. He knew better than anyone not to step between you and your job. He remembered how the whole Bob situation at the Hard Deck had gone down, but he couldn't help it, you were his wife. The woman he loved and was in love with. His best friend. The hopefully future mother of his children. He had his justified reasons to stand between you and something dangerous. If he didn’t? Who the fuck was going to? “Roos– todays not my when baby, I'll be fine.'' He knew you couldn't really promise that, with reluctance and a tight grip on your hand–squeezing three consecutive times, Rooster nodded in response. “We’ll stop by United Sports Nutrition on the way back and get you some more protein.” 

“What, just so you can eat it all?” Bradley beamed as you chuckled softly. Resolving in his arms as you hugged him. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Looking around your shoulder Jake saw the look of utter turmoil in his best friend's eyes. He’d never be able to handle this, your job title made his day job look like a hobby. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, so much more.” It was a moment you both treasured amongst chaos. Pulling away as you fixed yourself up and nodded to your dad. “Okay, where do you want me?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Earpiece fit snug?” Gibbs asked softly as he fixed his own. Pressing it further into his ear before fixing his NCIS issued cap. Never one for an overt display of emotion, Gibbs settled for a one sided smirk, tipping your chin up as he looked you over—a younger version of himself. “You keep your wits about yourself.” 

“Always boss, always.” It was a gentle kiss to your forehead that had you closing your eyes and taking in the moment before you exhaled your nerves. Shaking your hands out before smoothing over your bullet proof vest. Hidden snuggly under your sweatshirt you had stolen from Bradley’s forever growing collection—this one? His favourite Phillies jumper. “If Bradley—“ You didn’t even need to ask, finish your sentence or explain anything. Gibbs already knew. Cutting you off with a hushed groan. 

“I got him, you just focus on getting those people out of that building.” Everyone was situated around it in the gazebo style monitoring station. They were all huddled around radio equipment that had been set up in order to monitor you while you were inside the cafe.”

“No matter what happens you keep them clear, you’ll know if I need backup.'' It was always a weird feeling talking to your father like he was your boss. Well he was your boss but you get the point I'm trying to make. Keeping conversation light and away from what you really wanted to say was always the general consensus of your talks before any major take down or subsequent hostage situation or kidnapping. You always said things like ‘I'll be fine, don't worry, piece of cake.’ When in reality all you wanted to say was ‘Make sure I go home to my husband in one piece because if I don't he’ll never forgive me for being too reckless.’ Like father like daughter though right? 

The two of you slowly but surely closed in on where DiNozzo sat babysitting your husband and Jake. Sitting between the two aviators who both looked far beyond their comfort zone. “Now I’m expecting Brown to be incredibly hostile at first so whatever you do, unless there’s a clear indication from me—don’t intervene, under any circumstances.” 

“What would a clear indication be?” Rooster asked as he squinted up at you, the gazebo doing little to keep the sun out of his golden brown eyes. 

“Hail of bullets a good enough indication?” Rooster could tell you were starting to compartmentalise, it was something you did to ensure rational thinking. You didn't like when emotions played a major part in your critical thinking process when you were on the job. Splitting your personality in half always seemed to be an easy way to process the idea of inevitable fate. Not if, but when. You and Bradley had discussed the when’s of life a million times, today you were sure it was not a when. Bradley however? Well he had a fear so primal lingering in the back of his mind that today would be the day he could taste it in the back of his throat. Undeniable heartache. But he wouldn't admit that, no. He couldn't. Not when you were gearing up to save lives and put the greater good before your own self. That would be a disservice to your own stability. “I know what i'm doing Rooster–” 

“I stopped questioning your judgement a long time ago sweetheart, doesn't mean I don't worry.” Bradley cooed as he stood from his chair, headphone hanging around his neck because there was no way he wasn't going to listen to every second. Reaching out to draw you in by your slightly flushed cheeks. His palms pressed softly against you as he brought his lips against your ever so lovingly–Like it could very well be the last kiss he ever got the share with you. “Go be a badass–” 

“When have you ever known me not to be one?” It was a simple answer, but a reaffirming one. You had always been a fierce woman, strong and independent. “United Sports Nutrition, my treat.” Changing the subject as you slipped through Bradleys fingertips. Nodding in response to what you'd promised him, Bradley committed to memory what it felt like to hold your face between his hands. Jake stood from his seat to keep his best friend grounded in reality, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I dunno how you do it man, if I were in your shoes I never would have let her do this.” Bradleys eyes never left you as you finally turned your back on him, being escorted by two general duties officers closer to where the cafe was. Tears threatened to spill as he held himself together with what felt like scotch tape and PVA glue. Forever his girl, always his badass. 

“I don't do it–” Bradley replied just barely under a whisper. It killed him a little bit more each time you worked a high profile case or put yourself in the line of fire more than was deemed completely necessary. He knew you knew what you were doing–but it didn't change the fact the bottom line was inevitably when. When would he get the house call that told him you weren't coming back? “Kills me every day man. But what good would it do holding her back?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

As you approached the front door of the small corner store cafe, you held in a deep breath–it almost felt like if you exhaled too fast your heart was going to fall out of your ass. You weren't a stranger to dangerous situations, but this time it felt different. There was an added layer of intensity to this particular situation. One part being you knew the suspect from highschool. The other part? Well, it wasn't every day your husband got to see you doing what you did best–being a menace to society only with a legal title that gave you a right to carry a weapon. 

A small christmas like bell rang throughout the building as you slowly but surely opened the door. Stepping in cautiously, you met eyes with Theodore ‘Bomber’ Brown. You greeted him with a warm smile, trying to keep your own nerves under wrap as he held the gun directly at you. Your hands came up slowly beside your head as you took small almost undetected steps. The door slamming shut with a thud behind you. 

The game had begun. 

“Hi Theo.” 

“What are you doing here Y/n?” He almost looked as confused as you were pretending to be. Shrugging as you continued walking closer to where he stood, you took a headcount of people cowering and hiding their children. 

“Oh you know, I was just in the area and thought I'd stop in for a coffee.” Bradley had never rolled his eyes harder at you. For a brief moment he questioned if he could even listen to you, ripping the headphones off as he squinted his eyes shut and held the bridge of his nose warding off a headache. 

“What's she doing? Is she being serious?” Jake questioned DiNozzo who stood trying to get a visitual through the cracks in the blinds of the cafe Theo had made his hostages shut. 

“She's doing what she does best–” Gibbs responded with a smirk evident on his face. “She's getting the job done.” Rooster felt as if he had no other choice but to pull himself together and put the damn headphones back on. If something were to happen and he missed it? He’d never forgive himself. 

“You want a coffee Theo?” You asked as you slowly lowered your hands, stepping behind the counter. “I used to work at this coffee shop down the street while I was in college, still make a pretty mean cappuccino if you ask me.” 

“What are you some kinda cop?” Theo hissed, it almost felt like venom against your skin as he whizzed around the counter. Pressing the end of his gun against your back, just between your shoulder blades. “Because if are–” 

“I'm not a cop.” Sometimes a sharp tongue could cut deep. “But if you feel the need to affirm your suspicions you can always pat me down.” It was probably the biggest bluff you had ever held. Of course you were wearing a vest, you didn't actually have a death wish. But if Theo were to pat you down? He’d feel it instantly. “Or you can just have a coffee with me and we can talk about what's got you so upset to the point where you think hurting these people will fix the issue?” 

“You really just wanna talk? No bull?” Theo removed the gun from where it had been pressed between your shoulder blades. Watching curiously as you started to tamper a puck of coffee from the machine. 

“I just wanna talk, but before we do–I reckon it would be really kind of you to let some of these people go?” Silence had never been so deafening before as you stood face to face with an active terrorist. “I'll stay as long as you wanna talk for, but come on Theo–there's children in here.” 

“I keep them all.” Theo growled as you reached down to grab a carton of milk from out of the bar fridge. Shaking your head in disappointment. 

“The Theo I know would never have harmed a soul, you cried when Lala Bigbe decided she was gonna be an underground Molly Grub fighter and was pinning them against one another on the oval at–” The jug of milk went crashing to the ground as you felt the back of Theos gun connect with your cheek. He’d pistol whipped you. Knocking you to the ground in shock before you could finish your sentence. 

“Jesus fucking Christ–” Rooster hissed as he stood up, Gibbs was quick to shove him back down into his seat by his shoulders. “Gibbs she–” 

“Knows what she's doing, Son–give her time.” Bradley didn't hear the word son enough in his life, and it was a word that always truly impacted him. Sitting with his father in law's hands on his shoulders—he wanted so badly to trust the process. “She’ll tell us when she needs us.” 

“I'll give him that one for free, maybe she’ll try another angle now.” Tony tried to lighten the situation, noticing just how badly Rooster was holding it together. Maybe it was the wrong call bringing the fighter pilots along after all.

“I am not in the mood to play childish games.” Theo spat as he leaned in and over you, watching as you backed yourself into the corner. Covering your cheek. “You wanna talk, we’ll talk, but it'll be on my terms, about what I wanna talk about—” 

“That's perfect, great plan of attack.” You quipped. Standing to your feet again as you went back to making your coffee. Fetching a new carton of milk from the bar fridge. “What’s on your mind?” Theo didn’t respond as quickly as you’d hoped. He looked around the cafe, taking in how everybody looked at you like some saving grace. 

“I'm not crazy–” He mumbled as you steamed your milk. “I’m just—I wanted someone, anyone to hear 

me.” Theo sounded as sincere as they come. A plea for help, crying out for someone to pull him out of whatever train wreck his life had become.

“Well considering I never asked if you were, it's awfully sad that you feel like you need to state that as a matter of fact.” You and Theo used to be quite close in high school—you’d eat lunch together more often than not, you’d stand by his locker most mornings because your presence alone would deter Frank Jackson and his bunch of goons from stuffing Theo into his locker. He was your science partner from what you could remember and he even helped you a time or two with some physics homework—but looking at him now? There was something behind his eyes that told you he was sick. “I don’t think you’re crazy—“

As if those five words broke down a barrier, Theo sauntered over to the front door. Deciding that your open mind was a good enough reason to let a few people out as a show of good faith. You scratch his back he’ll scratch yours.

“You three, go—NOW!” Theo shouted as he fired a single round into the ceiling as the three people he’d told to run ran for their lives with their hands above their head. At the sound of gunfire you ducked behind the counter, holding your earpiece. 

“I’m good, he fired into the roof.” You mumbled just above a whisper, hoping Bradley had been one of the people who were listening in intently. He had been. At the sound of gunfire he jumped out of his seat, instantly panicking because what if you’d been shot? “I’m good—“ 

“Copy, standing by with backup.” McGee responded loud and clear in your ear as you peaked out from behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of what Theo might have been experiencing as you watched his gaze linger into a void as he mumbled something under his breath, almost as if he was shrugging someone off. 

“I thought my commanding officer would be here this morning.” Theo explained as he made his way to you. His head hung lower as he almost gave off an ora of remorse. “I just wanted to talk, explain that I’m not crazy—I, I panicked when someone spotted my gun.” It was irrational behaviour, but you couldn’t help but to understand how Theo thought he was justified. Sipping your coffee casually as you kept Theo occupied and distracted enough so that two other hostages could slip out the front door. One had been clever enough to take the Christmas bell with him. 

“Why do you have a gun if you were looking for your commanding officer Theo?” Your question must have made Theo feel a little caged. His defences coming back online as he closed the space between you. His eyes full of rage, anger bubbling to the surface. 

“Because he had me dishonourably discharged, he ruined my life! It's only fair I ruin his no?” 

“She’s losing him–” Gibbs groaned as he clicked at Tony. “Get ready to go.” Bradley and Jake continued listening as you tried to take control of the situation again. “I'm pulling the plug.” At the mere mention of the plug being plugged being pulled, you spoke back to Theo in a way you hoped your team would understand. 

“I got it–” You paused briefly so that your team understood you were talking to them. “I mean I get it, I do, if someone had me fired from the only job I ever really enjoyed I'd be upset too.” you weren't sure when your hands had started to shake but they were. 

“What do you do now?” Theo asked. You couldn't keep up with his very wiry personality changes. The Theo you spoke at this very second was not the same version of Theo who had shot a single round through the roof not a few minutes prior. 

“Im a florist–” It had been a blatant lie, but a quick and believable one. Brandley scoffed to himself in amusement, his mother had been a florist. “Maybe you can come see the shop once this is all over huh?”

“Oh I dont think I'm getting out of here.” Theo softened his gaze. “Can't you hear the sirens?”

“They just wanna make sure these people get out unharmed Theo that's all, I reckon if you walked out with me, they'd lower whatever weapons they have and would let you explain why you felt the need to do this.” It was your way of telling everyone to lower their weapons and stand down if Theo were to come willingly. You knew your dad was smart enough to decipher that. “Doesn't that sound like the best way to get justice?” 

“Y/n, what's in your ear?” Fuck. You froze as Theo reached his hand out, turning your head away–Theo got a good look at the earpiece that was in your ear, delivering your entire conversation to whatever authorities were outside. “You fucking bitch you set me up.” 

“No no, I didn't Theo listen to me!” You were in the eye of the storm now. Rooster shot up from his seat yet again as his heart beat so hard against his chest he felt like it might burst through his sternum. 

“Gibbs, get her out of there–” Jake had never heard his friend and colleague sound so panicked before. “NOW!” Holding the headphones against his ears as people rushed towards the building, Bradley’s stomached dropped when he heard the crackling noise of static. You weren't there anymore. “FUCK! Y/n–!!” Bradley Bradhsaw had never moved so quickly in his goddamn life before. But Jake Seresin? He’d never had to hold back a pleading husband before. Jumping up and after Rooster, bear hugging the six foot wide shouldered blonde as he struggled against him. 

“You can't go in there Bradshaw–” 

“She's my wife!” Jake had to clench his jaw as he struggled with Rooster, holding him back as shots rang out and hostages bolted from the front door, DiNozzo and Mcgee quick on the draw as they entered soon after with their guns drawn. 

“But right now? She's a Federal Agent.” 

“Jake I swear to fucking god if you don’t let me go right now you’ll be dead before you hit the ground, DO YOU HEAR ME?!!” Bradley shouted as he continued to struggle with Hangman who wasn't letting go for nothing. Holding back Rooster as people rushed the cafe. His eyes were trained on the front door, just waiting for you to appear. 

But you never did.  

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“No no, I didn't Theo listen to me!” You were in the eye of the storm now. He’d ripped your earpiece from your ear, crushing it in his palm before shoving you backwards into one of the dining tables. 

“You are a cop!” 

“I'm not!” You pleaded, your hands coming up to protect yourself. “I'm not a cop, you just never asked if I was a federal agent, that's what I am, but I swear to you it doesn't change anything!” You tried to reason with Theo as his hand came down to around your throat. “I don't think you’re crazy!” 

“I don’t fucking believe you!” That's the moment you knew you’d lost him, deciding against your better judgement before anyone else got hurt to rush him. Clawing at his hand before tackingling him around the waist back into the counter. 

“RUN!!” You shouted. “Everybody out! Now, now, now!!!” Struggling with Theo as you tried to disarm him. He’d managed to gain the upper hand and throw you down onto the ground, pinning you down only for you to flip the cards and straddling him for a brief moment as you searched for his gun. “Theo, I promise, I can help you–” He wasn't listening. Scrapping around on the floor for dominance and his weapon. 

You didn't even hear the gunshots. 

You just felt the two jolts of pain rush through you. You held your breath and counted to ten. You felt the earth move before your heart burst again. For this was your when, You’d drowned and dreamt this moment. So overdue, you felt like you owed them. The hands of time. Swept away, you were stolen as you fell to your side. Cupping your lower abdomen as blood stained your hands. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bradley was by your side within seconds after first responders had brought you out, already working to fit you with oxygen and stop your bleeding. A paramedic sat straddling your legs as she applied pressure over your stomach as the gurney you laid on was wheeled up into the ambulance. 

“Rooster–” You mumbled softly from under the oxygen mask, you couldn't train your eyes on him. Everything was blurry. But you knew he was there. “Bradley–”

“Im here, hey–I got you baby, I’m here.” The way Bradley held your hand broke Jake's heart as he stood back and watched with Tony and Tim. They were all as stunned as each other. Gibbs? He was still inside the cafe. As your boss he hated that he’d let the situation escalate to a point beyond saving. As your father? He was proud you’d managed to get every single person out of the cafe–his only wish was that you'd been one of them too. 

“I'm okay–” You tried to promise your husband as he followed you up into the ambulance, there was no way in hell he wasn't going with you. “I'll be fine.” 

“Oh I wouldn't doubt it baby, you did so good.” Rooster knew this wasn't good just by the looks that gave no ground for hope that paramedics shared between themselves as they worked around him. “But you gotta keep fighting yeah? Don't you give up on me now, today wasn't supposed to be your when.” You just shook your head softly in response as your hand slipped from your husbands. “Y/n? Hey, baby you open your eyes for me okay?” It took everything you had, but you did what you were told. Bradley beamed as he blinded away tears that fell freely down his cheeks. “There she is, hi beautiful.” 

“Hi–” You mumbled back before all the bells and whistles rang out through the back of the ambulance. 

“Okay we’re losing her.” one of the paramedics announced as she pushed Bradley aside. “Sir, we need all the space to work on your wife, please step aside.” Bradley did as he was told, he stood in the corner and watched as paramedics worked to save your life. His bottom lip quivered a little as he started to lose control. 

“Don't you dare take her dad, I need her here, with me.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Leroy Jethro Gibbs hated hospitals as much as the next guy. It had been a few hours since you had been brought into emergency for emergency life saving surgery. Jake sat beside a clearly not alright Braldey. His hands were still covered in your blood. At least his shirt was black so if there was any on him? It was at least discrete. 

“Bradshaw, Your father in laws here.” Jake didn't think for a moment that Bradley would jump to his feet and rush at Gibbs. But that's exactly what he did. Leaving Jake Seresin in the dust completely dumbfounded. “Dude?” This was not how his annual leave would have gone.

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley spat. “Where the fuck have you been!?” Calmly and every so collected Gibbs raised a single brow at his son in law. He understood what it was like to lose his wife, so he accepted Roosters' anger. 

“I was with Brown, making sure he was in custody.” Gibbs handed the obviously distressed husband the coffee he’d ordered him before stepping around where Bradley stood to hand Jake the same. “He’s with Tony and Tim now–charged they’re charging him with attempted murder of a Federal officer first and formost, everything else will be left up to whatever the phyc deems–”

“You should have been with your daughter!” Rooster interrupted with a hiss laced with venom as Gibbs turned back to face where Rooster stood seething in anguish and heartbreak. “She needed you–” 

“Who she needed, was right with her.” Gibbs said calmly as he pressed his index finger into Roosters chest. “And you don't get to diminish her ability because it's hard to accept the fact things went wrong, she's a good agent–she knew what she was walking into, you accept the risk–” 

FUCK THE RISK!!” Bradley shouted with enough gusto to catch the attention of the entire waiting room. “She’s everything I have! I can't lose her.” 

“Since when is this about you Bradshaw?” Gibbs questioned as calmly as ever. “Are you the one on the operating table right now or is it your wife and my daughter?” It was a hard truth Bradley had to hear and accept. “You don't get to not be a solid foundation for her to lean on when she comes out of this, just like she doesn't get a choice to not make it through this.” For a split second, Rooster saw Gibbs clench his jaw tight, holding his emotions back as per normal. But for a moment? He saw it in his father in law's eyes. The guilt he felt for being the one who signed off on such a suicide mission. 

“Uh, Bradshaw?” An attending was coming through the double doors in her scrubs, looking for Bradley. “Bradley Bradshaw?” 

“Yeah? Over here.” Jake answered as he stood from the seat he felt like he’d been glued to watching the most daytime emmy scene play out before him. 

“I have an update on your wife.” Bradley couldn't breathe as he nodded in response, swallowing the lump in his throat as he sat down. Theattending did the same beside him. Removing her scrub cap. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” 

“There's good news?” Bradley let out a sigh of relief as the attending just smirked his way. She’d seen far too many husbands with chewed up nails beds to not know what Bradley was feeling right now. “That first, please.”

“She’s stable, for now–Doctor Daz is just finishing up now and we’ll let you know when you can come see her.” The attending Bradley didn't quite catch the name of paused briefly before continuing on. “However, unfortunately because of the specific type of bullet that your wife was hit with, it did leave a pretty big mess and she’s lost an ovary.” Rooster wasn't the best person when it comes to female anatomy. He carried a few tampons and liners around but that was about it. From the look on his face the attending knew he cared, he just didn't really know what she was saying. “Sir, your wife may find it a little harder to conceive if you were ever planning on having a family. Not by much, only around the thirty for forty percent mark but it's still something to be aware of.” 

“But she's alive?” Bradley didn't care about what he did not have right now, all he cared about was that you were still earth side, his dad had heard his prayers. “She’s gonna be Okay?” 

“She very much should be.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

The steady rhythm of your heart rate monitor was the first thing that you heard as you came to after surgery. The next thing? It was the gentle snores that escaped an exhausted Bradley Bradshaw as he sat beside your bed. His head in your lap as he snored away. Completely oblivious to the fact you had come to. Oxygen flowed through the little tube connecting up around your ears into your nose as your head felt heavy against the pillow that proped you up. 

“Too much adventure for you huh Roos?” You smiled softly as you carded your fingertips gently through his sun kissed hair. Disturbing the clearly mentally and physically exhausted aviator who held your whole heart in the palm of his hand. “Hi–” 

“You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice.” Rooster groaned as he came to, sitting up with a yawn. “Never again.” 

“Bradley, I’m okay–” 

“Yeah no this isn't the first time you've been shot on but it's gonna be the last.” You didn't want to start an argument right now, but you couldn't help but give Rooster the normal level or attitude you normally would. 

“Okay Lieutenant Bradshaw, say that again when you aren't literally flying fighter jets for a living.” You had rendered Bradley speechless as you eyed him down with an all knowing smirk. “Yeah, think before you talk shit.” 

In comfortable silence Braldey held your hand and read your chart as you went in and out of a light sleep. He wondered when the most appropriate time would be to bring up the whole ovary thing would be. Perhaps it would be less of a hit coming from him, or maybe it would be less confusing to hear someone explain it who actually knew what they were talking about. Regardless, Braldey stayed by your side all night, watching as you slept, keeping you company when you were awake. 

“Hey Roos?” You mumbled as you lulled your head to the side. Yoru eyes were barely open as you caught his attention. 

“You okay? Do you need anything?” 

“You believe in life after death right?” He wasn't all that sold on the idea, but he liked to keep an open mind purely because of his parents and the way his mother would always say his dad was watching over them. 

“Depends on the circumstances I guess? Why, what's on your mind?” 

“I think I met your dad for a moment there, unless it was just a very vivid surgery dream.” Bradley believed wholeheartedly that if you had really seen his dad then he owed him everything he had for sending you back to him. 

“Did you say hi for me?” Rooster smiled as he rubbed his thumb across your hand as you nodded. 

“I did Roo, I did.” You cooed just barely above a whisper. Letting your eyes rest as you chuckled softly to yourself. “Do you think this obliterated our blurry line between work and home life?” Bradley Bradshaw knew he’d met his match with you all those years ago. But looking at you now? He honestly couldn’t imagine a life without you. He wasn't prepared for a when. You’d just have to settle for a never from now on. 

“Yeah, oh yeah big time.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @auroraboreallisfine @tigerfan24 @atarmychick007 @rosee-sensuelle @unhingedhousehold @belowtheharddeck300 @daisyhollyxox @luckyladycreator2 @86laura11 @justanothermagicalsara @taytaylala12 @rhirhikingston

[din-miller]

Heyoooo! I’m not sure if you take requests, or if this is where your supposed to ask, it’s my first time doing so :’)

BUT

If you do, I was wondering if you could maybe wright an angsty fic, could be platonic or romantic, idm, but after a mission the reader dies similar to how aunt may dies in Spider-Man. Like, everybody gets out alive after a mission, and they’re about to head back on the ship r somthin and then BOOM, the reader falls. They don’t know the are dying and everyone is panicking(or just one of TBB for bonus individual trauma) then after a few, they die. One minute TBB have it all, the next, their world shattered.

Ofc your free to change as much as you want up, and you really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, it’s just a prompt I’ve been thinking about. Personally its just been nagging me for a while and I love your writing, and would really love to see it done (we all love some heavy angst, no?)

Again, if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine, just thought I could ask <333

Hello dear, sorry this took so long.

Full disclosure, I’ve never seen Spider-Man. I watched a few videos on YouTube. Both for the movie and the video game not knowing which death of Aunt May you had in mind. Thankfully you provided enough details in the request which helped me hugely!

Thank you for your love and support. It means the world to me ❤️

(Ps. You didn’t mention if you wanted the reader to have a specific pronoun so I’ve chosen to use she/her as the readers pronouns)

Go Peacefully, It’s Okay

Pairing: The Bad Batch + f!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: Character death, blood mentioned, female reader, fun sibling dynamics THEN hurt with not a drop of comfort to be found, platonic relationships, use of mando’a (translation at the end)

Sometimes everything you hold dear to your heart, can slip out of your fingertips without out a cause, without a warning, without an explanation

“Remind me when we get back to Ord Mantell, to tell Sid that being hunted by an unknown animal was not in the job description.” Tech grumbled, re-gaining his balance after tripping over a root hidden in the soil.

You laughed, dodging another tree branch as you raced past him, “I wasn’t aware Sid was handing out job descriptions.”

“It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t, we’d be broke if she did,” Hunter pointed out, “If you haven’t noticed, her missions are getting more dangerous lately.”

“Oh, come on, they’re not all bad,” You flinched when the creatures let out a loud roar, “See, even they’re agreeing with me.”

Your commlink beeped, Crosshair’s voice coming through the speaker, “Take the next left, you should be able to lose them in the tall grass.”

“Lose them?” Echo smirked, enjoying this more than he probably should as he jumped over a fallen log, dodging the sharp claws trying to shred his prosthetic leg into pieces, “The fun’s just getting started!”

“You can say that again!” Wrecker cheered, running beside you; Omega balanced on his shoulders, shooting her bow in hopes that it’ll slow the animal chasing them down.

“Has anyone found their weak spot yet?”

Of course nothing is ever simple with the Batch. The creature's skin ricochet any blaster fire and for the first time in history, Wrecker didn’t pack any explosives. Something he’s still evidently mad about as he complained very loudly: “No need for explosives, Tech said. It’s a peaceful planet, Tech said.”

“It was peaceful until you decided to awaken the den, Wrecker.” Tech pointed out, dodging another pounce from the creature behind him, “This plan isn’t working.”

“Crosshair, I thought you said we’d lose them in the tall grass, not attract more!” Echo growled, annoyed as his prosthetics creaked loudly, “You’ll be in charge of oiling my prosthetics when we get back.”

You let out a snort, because that'll be a sight to behold. The others laughed when all Crosshair replied with was a sneer. With a fond roll of your eyes, you opened your comm link, “I have an idea.”

“If past experiences have proven anything, those words have never been followed by anything good.” Typically Tech response.

“You got a better idea?” You asked, a tad judgemental, “Just trust me, okay. Hunter, grab Omega and run. All of you, out of the grass.”

“Copy,” Echo turned to brothers, “Race you to the ship, last one takes first watch tonight.”

Hunter’s helmet is focused on you and you know underneath it he’s giving you a pleading look to not do anything stupid. You just waved him away in response.

“I’ll be right behind you.” You promised and drew your blaster. He sighed and took off with Omega at his side.

As promised, you followed. Albeit a little further behind them as you shoot at the ground again and again, the blaster shot hot enough for the dry grass to catch on fire, forming a wall of flames that prevent the creatures from continuing their attack. As the fire builds and they begin to retreat, you let out a breath of relief. Then, with a huge grin, you threw your hands in the air, ”Victory!”

“Parjir!” Wrecker cheered, high-fiving the youngest Batch. The kid giggled and gave a cheer herself.

Hunter shook his head at them, but you can see the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, your name falling from his lips: “Behind you!”

Before you could turn around, your body is slammed to the ground. A vicious snarl came from right behind your ear and you winced at the loudness of it. You twisted your body and grabbed the blaster off of your belt. In the distance the boys are calling your name and without sparing a second thought you started firing into the creature's stomach, taking no pleasure in the pained screams it let out.

You laid your head back against the ground and tried your best not to gag at the smell and warmth of the blood seeping into your clothes. A second barely passed before a pair of hands pushed the animal off of you, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” You answered, letting Tech help you up, “Thank you.”

“Next time please eliminate all threats before celebrating.”

“I’ll make sure to triple check my surroundings.” You promised, brushing off the dirt clinging to your pants.

“That would be suffice, thank you.” He said dryly and you chuckled in response, amused with his way of speech.

While Hunter started checking Omega over for any injuries, you pulled Wrecker toward you to do the same. The biggest clone willingly allowed you to poke and prod at various body parts and he doesn’t even complain when you checked a second time despite knowing that other than a bruise or two, he’s fine.

“Your turn,” Wrecker gestured for you to turn around, but before he could begin his check, Hunter called for everyone to grab their packs and start moving out. Wrecker clapped his hands together with a giant grin, “Finally! The heat is killing me! I guess I’ll check you over once we’re back on the Marauder.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” You patted Wrecker’s shoulder and followed him to where the others started preparing for the trip.

You begin the journey back to the ship at Wrecker’s side but the longer you walked, the slower your pace became and eventually you fell behind. The fire is still roaring behind you, the warmth of it faint against your back and despite having felt like you’ve travelled miles, you're not even halfway back to the ship yet.

Echo slowed down to match your pace, arm brushing against yours, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Echo. I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off, that's all.”

“Should I get Tech? He’ll probably have a stim shot.”

“No, there’s no need to bother him. I just need a sec-,” A sharp spasm rippled down your back, the force of it knocking you over, your legs giving out from underneath you.

Echo caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist and you leaned into his embrace, head crashing onto his shoulder. Echo lowered both of you to the ground, “Help, we need help!”

Hunter dropped down beside you, helmet placed on the ground as his eyes scanned over your body, looking for injuries, but he can’t tell if the blood is yours or the creatures, “Echo, what happened?”

“I don’t know, we were talking and then she collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” Wrecker appeared beside Hunter, helmet also off, his brows knitted together, “Is she okay?”

You know what he’s thinking, it’s written across his face. He should have checked you over earlier and you know very well that thoughts like those never lead anywhere good, so you grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m okay, Wrecker. I just need a second.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Crosshair huffed impatiently. He’s out of your line of sight but you know he’s scowling, “Get up.”

“We have time to let her catch her breath,” Hunter surveyed the burning grass. The fire is steady and far enough that it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a few seconds, “When we get back to the ship, Tech is going to check you over, okay?”

Tech eyed the flames with caution, “For once I find myself agreeing with Crosshair. We don’t know what other animals the noise and fire might draw. We shouldn't stay here. It’ll be best to let Wrecker carry her to the ship.”

“First cardio, now a full upper body workout! It’s shaping up to be a good day after all.” Wrecker joked, but he couldn’t hide the anxiety that lingered in his words as he waited for Hunter’s permission.

Hunter nodded and moved out of the way, “Thanks Wrecker.”

“I got ya, ner vod.” Wrecker scooped you up, shifting you in his arms to get a better grip, only before he could find one comfortable enough for the both of you, he froze, his hold on you loosening until you were set back down carefully.

“Wrecker?”

“I-, she’s…,” He stuttered, taking several steps away from you until his back collided with a tree behind him. His eyes desperately searched for his brother, “Tech, she’s… oh maker, please no.”

You frowned, confused at his sudden behaviour. Tech seemed equally confused but he must have seen something in Wrecker's expression that you hadn’t, because suddenly he’s digging through his pack, searching for something of importance judging by the urgency of his movements.

You turned back to Hunter, “What’s wrong? What’s Tech doing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure everything is fine.” Hunter reassured, returning to his previous place beside you. His hand slipped under your shirt, fingers deftly prodding at your side until they stopped at the bottom of your rib cage, then he’s applying pressure against your skin, cursing as he yelled for his brother to hurry.

Echo grabbed his pack, emptying the contents carelessly onto the ground before lifting your head up and placing the pack on the ground as a cushion for you, “Just relax, everything is okay, you’re okay.”

Tiny footsteps made their way to where you’re laying and Hunter held up his hand, stopping Omega from coming any closer. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her but his words are directed at his older brother, “Echo, take Omega to the ship.”

“No,” Omega fought the hand that grabbed her arm, shoving Echo back, “What's going on? Why aren’t we moving?”

She looked at you, anxiously awaiting an answer and you're quick to reassure the small girl, “Need a sec’, I prob’ly inhaled too much smoke.”

Realising that she isn’t going to go willingly to the Marauder, Hunter sighed, “Omega, go check on Wrecker. That’s an order, kid.”

Omega pressed her lips together and for a second you thought she was about to argue but instead she listened and went to check on Wrecker. The bigger clone’s sat on the ground, head between his legs, but he welcomed Omega into his arms when she hugged him in an attempt to calm him down.

Hunter cocked his head towards the two, “Echo, keep an eye on them.”

“Yes, sir,” Echo stood up and laid a hand on Hunter's shoulder, his voice lowering to a whisper, “Take care of her, vod.”

Tech took Echo's place, a scanner held over your body and he adjusted his goggles in the way he does when something isn’t looking good. The muscle in his jaw twitched before he turned the scanners screen to Hunter.

You tore your eyes away from them and tilted your head back to watch as the fire curled up into the dawn sky. Red and oranges mix with the pale pascals, and the stars, so bright from here, so familiar, blur with every breath you take. You can’t help but let your eyes drift shut.

“Don’t do that,” Crosshair hissed, “Keep your eyes open.”

You blinked them back open and you’re a little surprised to see Crosshair kneeling down beside you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. When your eyes met his, the corner of his mouth turned up, “Good, keep your eyes on me.”

“Crosshair?” You leaned into his hand, seeking the comfort he’s providing despite his usual nature, “Why aren’t we movin’? Is someone hurt?”

“No, everything is okay,” Crosshair replied, but it’s through clenched teeth. Something he only does when he’s having to say something he doesn’t fully believe and/or agree with. He positioned himself criss-crossed above you and lifted your head, replacing Echo’s pack with his lap, “We’re just taking a break.”

Right, a break. A second to relax and catch your breath, that’s what you needed. You closed your eyes, even though you're pretty sure someone just told you not to, but there’s a heavy fog clouding your mind and you can’t remember who it was.

“I said to keep them open.” Crosshair, right, that’s who said it. The man who’s currently demanding you to look at him.

“Crosshair, keep her awake.”

You're able to open your eyes enough to watch as the sniper glared at Tech, “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Hunter’s fingers threaded through yours, “You can’t fall asleep, cyar’ika, okay? Hey, look at me, let me see those pretty eyes.”

The fading sun is too bright and your vision struggles to focus but you listened to his words and for that he gave you the softest smile, “There you are.”

“Wrec’ ok’?”

“He’s okay. We’re all okay. You just take another second to relax and don’t worry about anything, we have you.” Hunter pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Echo rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at his Sergeant, “You have to tell her, Hunter. You have to let her say goodbye.”

You want to ask what he means. Who’s saying goodbye by who. You want to ask why he looks so sorrowful, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate and your voice only comes out in weak gasps.

“Move,” Tech ordered Crosshair, taking his position to support your body up against his chest, helping the air fill your lungs, “Deep breaths, nice and slow.”

You tried to match Tech’s breathing, the strength in his inhale and the sturdiness in the exhale, but your lungs start to fail you as your breathing became weaker, your grip loosened but Hunter doesn’t let go. Not even when your eyes drift shut for the final time and your chest stills.

Hunter lowered his head, pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered a promise: “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

“Hunter?”

“Kid-,” Crosshair reached out for Omega, not sure if he was trying to comfort and protect her or hell, maybe even himself, as she dropped to her knees beside your body. It took everything in him to not walk away, far from here, but she needs him. His brothers need him.

They all watched helplessly as Omega finally noticed the blood pooling around your body, “She's bleeding! Tech, why are you just sitting there?! Help her!”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do, Omega. The wound was too deep, she was losing too much blood. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t believe that. There has to be something we can do!” She pressed her tiny hands against the wound while she begged through tears: “Wake up! Talk to me, say something, anything! Please, open your eyes!”

“Ad’ika, she’s gone,” Hunter swallowed around the lump in his throat, his lower lip quivered when he pulled the small clone into his arms, “She’s gone.”

Mando’a translation

Parjir. – Victory

Ner vod – My sister

Cyar’ika – darling/sweetheart

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum – Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.*

Ad’ika – Little one

[half-deadmagicperson]

HDBHFSP CHAPTER 4

This is the final chapter of my @ecto-implosion fic, 'How Danny Broke His Favorite Star Projector', based off of art by @midnightectosnack (WHO HAS AMAZING ARTWORK YOU NEED TO SEE!)

Rating: Teen (To Be Safe)

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Temporary Character Death (these are both earlier in the fic)

Crossover: Danny Phantom, Hades (Videogame)

First | Previous

Link to the Amazing Artwork

   Several months have passed as the two boys visit each other rather frequently. The Prince has shown Daniel various parts of the Underworld. In turn, the Ghost Boy has shown him various wonders of the Infinite Realms. Once Zagreus learned Danny had a hound of his own, the two arranged a meeting between the Guardian of the House of Hades, and the former Guardian of Axion. 

~~~~~~~

   Danny wiped his brow. He had just finished the final touches on the Zeus-powered star projector! He programmed it with several constellations, and the occasional shooting star. He also threw in some touches like a meteor shower that would happen once a week, or the different phases of the moon. Danny smiled as he held up the box. It was powerful enough to handle the current from the Portal, so it should work with the shield.

   He had finished just on time too! Today was the day he was going to take Cujo to meet Cerberus. He was so excited to give Zag the projector. He even flew out to the nearest town to buy a gift bag! Danny grabbed his stuff and headed off into the Underworld.

   When he walked through the gate, he was immediately greeted by Cerberus. Danny gave all three of his heads pats before walking over to Zagreus. 

  “So, where’s this hound of yours?” Zagreus asked. Danny smiled.

  “He’s coming!”

  Just then the small yips of a puppy were heard through the entrance. A small, green dog ran towards Danny before spotting Cerberus. Cujo looked up at the formidable sized hellhound. There was a tense moment of silence before Zagreus broke it. 

 “Are you sure your hound is okay to play with Cerberus? I wouldn’t want him getting crushed. Also is he sick? Why does he only have one head?”

 “Oh yeah he’s fine. Most dogs only have one head. As for not getting crushed…”

  As if on cue, the once tiny dog grew into a massive hound. His large tail started wagging as he showed Cerberus his favorite toy. While the two dogs started playing, the boys started to chat.

  “So, ya know how we accidentally blew up that projector?” Danny started. Zagreus felt panic rise. Was he mad? Was he going to attack? Instead, Danny handed Zagreus a bag decorated with many colors. The prince opened it. It was a box, similar to the last one, but this one was different. There were two wires with clamps hanging out of it, as well as a few more switches.

  “After the first one didn’t work I decided to make one that could handle the power of your shield!”

  Zagreus smiled and decided to test it out. Danny showed him how to connect it to the power from the shield, as well as the different buttons and their functions. Zagreus switched the projector on and watched as the night sky appeared on the stalactites of the Underworld’s ceiling. Danny grinned. It was good to see his friend so happy.

  Zagreus absorbed the sight for a few more minutes, before turning back to Danny.

  “Actually, now that you mention it, I have something for you as well.”

  Danny raised a brow as Zagreus grabbed something from behind him. It was the old projector all fixed up. It was also slightly more decorated than it used to be.

  “I tried the best I could to fix it. There wasn’t a lot of equipment down here, but I made it work!”

  Joy filled Danny’s heart as he looked at the old box. He is definitely going to test it out when he gets home. 

   While the boys wrapped up their fun, the face of a clock appeared out of thin air. Following it, a blue man in a purple cloak. Clockwork, who was currently in the guise of an old man floated over to Danny.

  “It is good to see that you have a friend, young Daniel. I was getting worried you’d spend your future alone.”

   Zagreus smiled, but then a revelation struck him.

  “YOU! YOU’RE THE OLD MAN!” 

  Clockwork chuckled.

  “That is an interesting theory, young Prince, but I am far too busy watching the timeline to narrate someone’s life. Regardless, Daniel, I’ll need you at your earliest convenience.”

  Just like how he came, Clockwork vanished. The two said goodbye before Danny headed off into the Zone.

   The ghost boy looked back at the gate. Danny hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. Looking back, maybe it was a good thing that a soul got lost on its way to Hades. 

  Zagreus smiled as he watched his friend go. He now knows the answer to what the old man asked before he walked in here several months ago. Danny was definitely a great ally, and even more, a great friend.

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 3, 2023

Not feeling chatty today, too many errands and chores to do. At least I don't have to buy fireworks this year for the 4th of July. They were just outlawed last year where I live. Before that, we were all out in the street shooting of aerials and and lots of other things. Neighbors around the corner always put on quite the show. Had a few scary moments over the years. But it was all fun until the clean up!

What I'm reading:

Oh wow Everybody Hates a Tourist by anon for the @hd-wireless fest definitely earned it's right to open the fic portion of the fest. It created quite the atmosphere in Brighton were we find one Draco Malfoy living the gay Muggle scene for the last 8 years.

Summary:

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school. Meanwhile, Draco’s just trying to live his big and best queer life: working for the weekend, chasing hot men, getting lost in Brighton's nightlife, and making friends with the neighbourhood cats. Why does his former school rival and crush have to show up and spoil everything?

There was so much to enjoy about this fic given the summertime atmosphere and just hanging out in the pubs, having some smokes, and eating bits of this and that. Harry in this fic is going through some changes in his life but is still on solid ground physically and mentally. We think Draco is too, but there is a vulnerability there and, of course, Harry wants to fix it. One of my favorite things about this fic is Harry's innocence but also sense of adventure. Draco introducing him bit by bit to his lifestyle and the atmosphere of Brighton and Harry is wide-eyed but also enthusiastic. Very cute. Oh and asking for gossip about fellow classmates was a riot. Poor innocent Harry. :) A lovely feel-good fic with definite moments of seriousness. Read and definitely give MA some love with comments!

Everybody Hates a Tourist on AO3

Drarry Tumblr Fic/Art Resources

I know most of you are probably already following @thedrarrylibrarian, but not everyone goes to the home page of someone's Tumblr site. This is a must for @thedrarrylibrarian because there is so much packed into a few links. The first thing you should do is read the FAQ on the home page before you get started. Especially if you're looking for a type of fic. Some fic genres and tropes aren't covered. Also, if you're looking for a specific fic, this is not the place as noted. That is @lostdrarryfics, another great drarry fandom resource.

What is on here is a Card Catolog, which gives a plethora of subject matters to find fics under. Like Beach Reads, or Spy!Draco or Raising Teddy. And even better, they are being continually updated.

Also there is the Reference Section, which is extremely helpful. Here's a few examples: How to Tag your Fic, How to Gain Friends & Friends Writing Fanfic, and How to Write Fanfic Summaries!

The last category, I've mentioned before and that is Friends of the Library, which is a list with links to the collaborations with other writers/artists/reccers/friends, which includes The Happy Hour events.

And finally, you can always ask for a type of fic(s) to fulfill a certain want or need. :)

A lot of work has gone into the site. It's very easy to use, which I particularly am a fan of. So go play around and see what you can discover in the @thedrarrylibrarian!

Tomorrow is a holiday and I'm not sure I'll be making a post as we have some family plans. Hope everyone enjoys their week!

Rom

[brigdh]

WIP ask game: a little of "Spit on Your Grave"?

The WIP meme!

(Mentions of noncon, in case that's not obvious – 'I Spit on Your Grave' is a notoriously gory exploitation movie in which a rape victim murders her rapists)

Thank you! :D So, this is one I really, really cannot post because it's unauthorized fanfic of someone else's fanfic. (I can't decide if it's more or less ethical if I include a link to the original fanfic; I guess I will share if anyone asks?) The original was a WIP I was really into, about post-S1 Kraken-era Ed being captured by a British Admiral who, well, tortures and rapes him a bunch and mindbreaks him into an obedient sex slave.

(Look. Look. I know, okay? I like the worst things. However, I am generally too shy to post anything involving noncon in namespace, so that's another reason this was never going to be a real fic.)

The original WIP stopped updating right around the time Stede and the Revenge crew rescued Ed, capturing the Admiral who did this in the process. I really wanted more resolution, and also am always here for insane!Stede, so I wrote an extra scene to give myself some closure.

Stede approaches and kneels between Ed’s feet, hands carefully not on Ed’s knees but on the edge of the crate just beside them. “My love,” he says, voice not soft but fierce, as though he’s making a point. Ed supposes that he is, though he doubts that Coates can hear him over the pain of being shot in both knees. “My treasure, my pearl. Can I kiss you?”

Coates had kissed him, forcing Ed to take it with threats or a hand in his hair or on his collar. That had mostly been at the beginning, though. After a while he’d deemed Ed too filthy to put his mouth on. Coates is currently sobbing in pain, face down against the deck. Ed nods. 

Stede surges up and kisses him, though he keeps his hands where they are, leaving Ed free to pull away. It’s not like the chaste kisses they’ve shared since Stede rescued him. It’s deep, thorough, Stede’s tongue in his mouth like he wants to lick every part of Ed. Ed leans back and looks around; the crew have mostly glanced away, but no one seems disgusted. Even Izzy, when Ed glances over his shoulder, seems to have nothing negative to say. Ed swallows and tugs Stede up into another kiss. By the time it ends, Ed is panting and shivering. His body isn’t entirely sure the kiss is a good thing, but his soul wants it again and again and again. He tucks his face against Stede’s shoulder and tries to regain control over himself.

“Ed, my dearest,” Stede says quietly against the curve of Ed’s ear. “I have a choice for you. Would you rather hear him apologize to you, or should we just go ahead and cut out his tongue now?”

“He’ll never apologize,” Ed says immediately, instinctively.

Stede pulls back just enough for Ed to see how excited his eyes are. “Oh, but I think he will! I’ve been reading a book on the Spanish Inquisition, and I’ve picked up some really excellent ideas! I’m sure I can make him. I’ll make him kiss the ground you’ve walked on.” He pauses. “Or, if you’d rather not, we can just go straight for the tongue….”

Ed had every instinct to fight back, to protect himself, beaten away. Hurt a dog enough times and it cringes at even the thought of biting. He doesn’t think he can raise a hand against Coates even now, with Coates helpless and alone. Stede would, though. If Ed asks him. But Stede is kind and gentlemanly and –

Ed makes himself look at Stede, really look, before he can spiral back down into his thoughts. Stede, honestly, looks extremely fucking eager. There’s a line of blood droplets splattered across one of Stede’s thighs from shooting Coates; he hasn’t wiped it away, and the red is bright against the pale blue breeches he’s wearing.

“Make him,” Ed says, voice hoarse. Stede’s grin is wide enough to show his teeth as he climbs back to his feet.   

[captmickey]

I read through your Boybrush headcanons, including the older ones you linked in the recent ask's answer. I'm kinds curious about how Boybrush's encounter with Elaine's parents went now, especially for him to decide he doesn't like them.

Haaaa that's a fic in and of itself.

But in a condensed format that allows people's mind to wander (and also, lets be real, I will forget to write that fic), the idea is that he has his parents' intuition on people, like without explaining he can feel who is someone he doesn't mind being around and others where he's just not comfortable (not even hate, just... doesn't like).

So with Elaine's parents (which, a side note headcanon for new comers: Elaine and Guybrush Do Not Like them because they are jerks and have a tendency of mooching off of Elaine during her time as Governor while also belittling and being straight up cruel to Guybrush and the two would like as much distance from them forever... though she does think literally shooting down her mother's ship is excessive), they obviously came because of course they heard word that their daughter has a son and they hope it's not with that boy toy of hers and oops.

It's Boybrush.

Double oops, it's Guybrush's son.

And it's not like Elaine and Guybrush raised him to go "ah you should hate them" but they don't talk often about them, usually saying things like "oh they just don't travel like we do" and if they ever meet them, they won't... say no, but they will make the meeting very short (and that's not mentioning Boybrush asking about Guybrush's parents.... which is a tropic Guybrush Does Not Like To Talk About).

Boybrush figures that Elaine's parents are not pleasant to be around Guybrush and Boybrush does not like how they're making his parents unhappy, he especially does not like how they keep saying and doing things around him because it makes his stomach turn into a knot and that's a Bad Feeling that his dad explained to him and please and thank you go away. The feeling especially increase when they say bad things about his dad and how Boybrush needs to be brought up in a "normal" environment... perhaps a boarding school.

When Elaine and Guybrush see how he's reacting, they ask him what's wrong and he tells them what he's feeling which has Elaine very Politely (read: "get out") tells them to leave while Guybrush holds Boybrush because she knows if she lets Guybrush speak up....... it will Not End Well.

[princelink]

6 for the ask game

yeah I read fics all the time!!!!! although I've really been in bleach / grimmichi hell lately so it's mainly focused on that LOL there's a few Zelda fics but I haven't been digging for them as much lately... Rip. There's a few obey me fics too. Don't look at me. I am a simple man.

Anyway

Literally ANYTHING by murderlight or sayhitoforever !!!! I really love how they write so much. Anything by possumhours, junichiblue, and shapooda 💖💖💖 aaaa sykamore too

There's a good amount of people I subscribe to but if I was to list them all... Oof. Like really I could go on and on lmao

There's a lot of good fics in general... I have a hefty amount of bookmarks on ao3 LMAO although I suppose it could be worse I've seen people with like over 300 and I dread the day I get there because I enjoy hoarding things like a dragon.

I know off the top of my head ...

You can pick my lock by backwardshirt is one of my favorites.

I'm biased towards smorecakes' Thursday fic for REASONS

Aaaaa roll 6 by stripy !!!!! what I'd give for an update. Man

Uh strawberry kitten by neuron. Although all their stuff is good

Fucking !!!! The hollow hole verse from quarter_life_crisis omg 💞😌

and the stars reigned down like embers from copperscript

I should probably shut up before this gets too long LMAO sorry

[sunatoru]

pop! goes the cherry.

⇒ suna x f!reader

summary : a seemingly normal city has been struck by disaster as a killer, dubbed “the virgin killer” goes door to door killing the pure and innocent. with a virgin best friend, suna rintarou decides it’s up to him to save her.

warnings : mentions of murder / death , sort of horror (?), loss of virginity, virgin shaming?, fuck to survive trope, pretty vanilla imo, jealous suna!! unedited

genre : fluff , humour , smut , slightly angst , best friends to lovers, plot with porn

a/n : dropping my first nsfw fic, this idea has been eating away at my brain for a week and i need to get it out or i will scream. also everyone’s 18+ in the fic, they’re all third years 🤝 REBLOGS AND ASKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, PLS INTERACT WITH ME, MY BLOG IS SO LONELY

w.c : 5.4k

m.list part 2: cherry popper.

“more heartbreak in japan’s hyogo prefecture as another teen is found dead in their home. police reports state that the victim has been marked with the initials ‘v.k’ similar to the markings on the three other victims.”

you throw your head back with a long drawn out groan as the reporter drones on about the latest incident, saying something about safety ratings and the lack of evidence linking anybody back to the case. truthfully, you didn’t care that much. why should you? hyogo had millions of people and your own city was quite full too, the odds of you being targeted would be the same as winning the lottery.

“authorities believe these killings are not motivated by gender, but rather a lack of intercourse…” your head shoots up, eyes now stuck on the tv with a new found interest. you pick up the remote, turning the volume up.

“after an amagasaki police station near inarizaki high received a letter signed with the initials ‘v.k’. contents of the letter have not yet been released, however it has been confirmed that the killer is going after those who have not lost chastity.” you sit in a shocked silence, hand limply holding onto the remote as more details are explained about the latest threat within japan.

a virgin killer?

turning the tv off, you decide maybe it’s best you sleep in your parents room tonight. no longer feeling safe and secure within your home, nor your city after finding out the nearby police station had received the threatening letter.

there was a killer incapable of being tracked, roaming your streets within the darkest hours of the night, killing innocent people with only one motive. and you were the prime target.

—

“sunarin, you did not just laugh.” your heated glare was directed towards the relaxed man who could only shrug his shoulders as he snickered at you. after finding out VK was within an alarmingly close radius, you turned to your friends for advice or some form of comfort. unfortunately for you, some of your friends weren’t the most attentive to your feelings.

“i’m sorry, i just find it kind of funny that scary old VK turned out to be a massive virgin anti. maybe he’s some sexual vigilante, kill a few people, get another hundred laid.”

you could only gape at suna’s smug face as he continued to tease you about the situation at hand. “you’re insane.” was the only response you could muster up as he continued to push and prod you on the walk to school. your hands were grasping the handles of your bag with a deadly grip as suna continued his jokes and relentless teasing.

“stop worrying so much, it’s not like he’s gonna know you’re a virgin or any-” his words immediately dying down as you slapped your hands over his mouth, keeping one hand pressed firmly against his lips and the other hand pulling him down by his jacket collar. he looked down at you, eyebrow raised as he watched your eyes fill with rage.

“oh yeah, thanks tarou! thanks for announcing out loud that i’m still a virgin! in case you forgot, the letter was sent to the police station near our school. so unless you want your lovely little yn to end up dead, i’d suggest you stop talking.” you pulled your hands away from his mouth and began stomping off towards the school, leaving suna somewhat stunned in his spot. the smug grin now replaced by a frown, he runs after you, falling into place beside you.

the walk to school remains a silent and uncomfortable one, the tension almost suffocating suna as you continued to ignore him and his attempts at reconciliation. your silent treatment would remain all throughout the first few periods, bleeding into lunchtime with the rest of the group in the cafeteria.

“sunarin what’d ya do to yn, why’s she so quiet today?” atsumu slowly pokes your unresponsive form, yelping when his spoon is ripped out of his grip and used against him as a weapon. “okay! i’m sorry, please stop attacking me with a soup covered spoon, i had a shower this morning!”

you threw the spoon down and pushed your own tray away, grumbling under your breath while the rest of the group continued eating or falling back into their previous conversations. you began shifting in your seat, you weren’t in any immediate danger…were you? surely there had to be thousands of lonely virgins in hyogo, hundreds in your school.

but… what if he was listening to you two this morning, what if he was nearby and heard what suna had said about your lack of sex life. what if you were next and you couldn’t do anything to stop it? you’d be dead before graduation, no more plans for the future, no getting to tokyo or starting uni, you wouldn’t be able to see your friends anymore. you’d be dead and gone, only remembered through pictures and videos.

“hey, yn? are you okay?” samu’s quiet voice snaps you out of your spiralling, eyes flitting over to his as he looks at you with concern. you purse your lips and nod before picking up your tray and walking off towards the bins. you weren’t hungry anymore and the cafeterias' loud atmosphere was making you more uncomfortable than ever before. maybe you should just go to class early today, you couldn’t shake the feeling of intense discomfort and anxiety even within the school grounds. which, theoretically, should’ve been the safest place for you in your current predicament.

trying to push out anymore thoughts about the serial killer with a vendetta against virgins, you pull your locker open. however, you weren’t met with the usual sight of books and scrap papers. instead, laying flat and lifeless on the floor of the locker was an envelope. a pretty, red envelope, with the initials ‘V.K’ printed in calligraphy in the middle. with shaking hands you reached for the letter, ripping it open to find a small piece of paper.

‘three more, your time is running out.’

was this a threat?

—

after an exhausting and heavily distracted day at school, you decided to prolong your trip back home by stopping by the volleyball club. maybe suna could walk you home today, you just weren’t really willing to test your luck anymore after receiving the threatening letter.

you knew what you needed to do to survive, you had to find someone to take your virginity, but who’d be willing to do that?

tsumu? maybe, but it’d boost his ego far too much and he’d be insufferable for the rest of your life. samu? possibly, he was kind, generous, caring… a perfect man for anyone and everyone. but would he want to have sex with you and were you willing to be rejected?

or maybe…

“suna rintarou, i need you to have sex with me.” you slam the gym doors open, shocking the rest of the volleyball club members and surprising suna. everyone was quiet, staring at you as you stared down your best friend. he blinks once, then twice before dropping the ball he was holding. you hurriedly make your way over to him, ignoring atsumu’s howls of laughter at your absurd request.

“yn what are you talking about, why the fuck would you need me to have sex with you!?” you grab rintarō by the arm shaking him desperately as your lips begin to quiver. “he’s gonna kill me tarou, i swear he’s going to kill me.” you let him go, ripping your bag open to search for the envelope that held the written threat within it.

pulling it out you shove it into suna’s chest. “see, ‘your time is running out.’ he knows im a fucking virgin and he’s going to kill me. i don’t wanna die, rin!” you sob, holding suna once again. you feel him tense under your hands, his eyes still glued to the paper grasped between his fingers.

“holy shit…” atsumu walks over to the two of you, his eyes also trained onto the paper, reading over the lines a few more times before turning to you. “you know, if sunarin won’t fuck you, i’d be down.” he winks, accompanied by a cocky smirk. suna pushes him away, crumpling the paper and shoving it back into your bag before turning to atsumu.

“that- that won’t be necessary. anyway, ‘m walking yn home.” he grabs your hand and pulls you out of the gym, picking up his own stuff on the way before setting off towards your home. your hand is still held firmly in his unfaltering grip, clasped so tightly his knuckles are turning white. his bruising grip doesn’t loosen until you both make it safely inside your house, your parents away at work until late, leaving the two of you alone to figure out how to go about interpreting the letter.

“maybe it was someone pulling a prank on you? or maybe a guy you rejected wants to scare you into sleeping with him.”

“but who would even do that? and no one’s confessed to me since last year…” your gaze shifts to the floor, playing with your hands to distract you from your aching head and stomach.

“well…your name wasn’t in the letter, so maybe it was meant for someone else? and they just put it in the wrong locker. you know how people can be during a crisis, guys are dicks they’d definitely do this as a joke on their friends.” he let out a puff of air before he moved the two of you into the living room, pulling the both of you down onto the couch.

you reach for the remote, turning the tv on and falling back against suna in defeat. maybe he was right, it wouldn’t be that crazy to assume this was just a prank pulled on the wrong person, high schoolers were crazy and equally stupid. but that doesn’t do much to ease your fears as the news channel interrupts the show you two were about to watch.

“breaking news, students who attend or are in the area of inarizaki high are now being warned to stay on high alert at all times as another teen is found dead. the student was killed in broad daylight, leaving authorities even more concerned with the lack of evidence pinpointing a suspect. next to the teen’s corpse was a note with the writings ‘two more to go.’ it is believed that this threat may be a sign that the killings will soon stop. remember, if you see anyone acting suspicious-”

suna shuts the tv off, turning back to you, his eyes slightly widened as you keep your gaze glued to the tv. that wasn’t a promise to end the killings…

it was a promise, to end you.

—

after asking for permission from both your parents and his, suna had stayed over for the night. sleeping on your bedroom floor to make sure you were alright and to protect you in case you were the next target. the morning after was just as bad, another inarizaki high student dead, their body left to rot in front of the schools gates, next to their body was another note.the walk to school that morning was silent and tense, you knew the letter you received wasn’t just some failed prank. and you knew you were next…

when being faced with the hypothetical of what you’d do if you only had one more day to live, people would answer with superficial things, like travel to a place you’ve never been before, sky dive, go bungee jumping. but you? you didn’t know what to do, accept defeat and die? fuck some rando on tinder and live another day? spend your last few hours alive with rin, finally confess your feelings for your best friend and tell him you weren’t asking him to fuck you just out of convenience but also because you realised you were madly in love with him and that if you were to die tonight, you’d want to die without regrets?

God this was so difficult.

“tarou,” you stopped walking abruptly, grabbing onto his sleeve before he could walk past you. he looks down at you, quiet, but his eyebrow is slightly raised indicating he was waiting for you to continue. you let go of his sleeve, not wanting to hold eye contact with him as the shame burned you from inside. “how would you spend your last day alive?”

“you’re not gonna die yn.” he shoves his hands in his pockets and continues walking, not bothering to spare you another glance as he walked off. you slowly begin following after him, how was he so sure you wouldn’t die if he wasn’t even willing to fuck you yo keep you alive?

“maybe i should take up atsumu’s offer…” that was enough to freeze rintarou completely. turning on his heel he stares you down with a cold look. “and why would you do that?”

“because i don’t want to fucking die, rin! if he’s offering to help keep me alive when the only guy i had any sort of interest in doing this stuff with isn’t, then yeah, maybe i should accept his offer.” you push past him, muttering insults as you walk towards the busy school gates, giving him the same treatment as yesterday. though you don’t make it very far, a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back, causing you to face suna once again.

he holds your wrist, eyes cold, but the heat and anger within your eyes was enough to make up for it. “why won’t you let me hookup with tsumu, huh? you want me to die that fucking badly that you won’t help me or let me accept help from the only person offering?”

“it’s not that, yn.” he lets go of your wrist with a sigh, no longer were his eyes ice cold, he looked at you with a certain sadness, frown taking over his features. “god, how do i explain this… yn, im scared too. im scared for you, im scared you’re going to sleep with me and it’s going to change everything, im scared i won’t be able to face you anymore, or that you’re going to hate me for taking your virginity even when you were the one to ask. im so terrified of losing you, but i don’t want you to sleep with someone else just to get it out of the way and have you regret it for the rest of your days…”

“so, you’d prefer it if i died?”

“god, no! i don’t know! i’m just- confused.”

you scoff, no longer wanting to go to school. your fate has been sealed and if you were a dead girl walking, why would you spend your final hours in school when you could be at home, watching your favourite show, eating your favourite food, sending your last few messages before your house is inevitably broken into and you’re left dead on the floor of your bedroom, alone, terrified and cold.

“where are you going?” suna tries grabbing your wrist but you slap his hand away, not stopping your long strides back in the direction of your house. “if i’m gonna fucking die, i don’t want to spend my last day alive in school, suna.”

with that, you continue walking back towards your house. you don’t care if suna’s following after you, and frankly you’d prefer it if he was. even if you were incredibly upset with him, you would still prefer spending your death day in his presence. so you let him quietly follow you, ignoring his little pleas for you to turn around and go back to school where the two of you would be safe and be able to sort things out.

when you arrived at your house you threw open the door and made your way to the kitchen, suna could deal with fortifying the place while you ate the last coffee jelly left in the fridge. maybe you could order some food?

“yn, please, talk to me. you know i’m bad with words, i didn’t meant to phrase it as though you dying would be better than you getting laid.” he pleaded again, crouched down beside you at the table, his hand on your knee and his eyes gazing up at you with a new found desperation.

you sighed, placing your spoon down before turning to look at him, eyes watering as you took in your best friend for what was probably the last time. if you were going to die wouldn’t it be better to do so without hating your best friend? didn’t you want to die without regrets? so, what was holding you back from telling your best friend, suna rintarou, that you were deeply in love with him?

“suna-” you begin.

“it’s tarou.”

“okay…tarou, i don’t know why you were so adamant on following me here, i don’t know why you want my forgiveness so badly when all you were doing was being honest, but it’s fine. i’m fine…” you take a deep breath, standing up and pulling him up with you. “and i love you. im in love with you. maybe that’s why i wanted you to be my first, and why i was so upset with what you said and how you said it, and maybe that’s why i’m so scared of dying,” you pause again, looking shyly at suna, who only nods to reassure you that you can keep going. “because i finally found someone that i could love with all my heart, and i’m only realising it the day i die. i thought i’d die without regrets, but i think my biggest regret was not telling you how i felt sooner…”

these days suna feels more silent than he ever was, sure he’d always been a quiet guy, but lately he’s felt so tongue tied and speechless. like his own mind cant form a single word, he can’t speak what he feels. he can’t explain that his chest felt like it was caving in when he saw the note you received, or the anger that would flare up in him when atsumu tried flirting with you, or how jealous he felt when you considered accepting that bleach brained idiots offer. he wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he was more than willing to be your first, that he’d cherish that moment and take care of you… but he couldn’t, no words would come out. and so, he used his actions instead. just like the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. and with that, he leans forward, pulling you in by the waist, his hands sliding down to firmly hold your hips as he pressed his lips against yours.

your shocked gasp urges him to pull away, but you place your hands on his shoulders, keeping him close as you begin to kiss back. letting him lead the kiss, not stopping him when he cups your cheek in his hand and pulls you in even deeper. it wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before, sure you’ve kissed people a few times, but none of them were like kissing suna rintarou. your, suna rintarou.

“i’ll do it.” he pulls away slightly, taking in a deep breath of air as you look up at him with lidded eyes, light headed from the heated kiss. “i’ll be your first, and i’ll be your last, and i’ll be yours… just, please don’t leave.” his hand on your cheek disappears as he pulls back a bit, watching you with heightened anxiety. you lean into the hand that’s against your cheek, holding his wrist as you nod.

“i won’t leave you.”

—

you led suna to your bedroom, something you’ve done millions of times before, but now it was different. you weren’t bringing him into your room to watch a movie, or work on homework. you were about to give your first time to the man you’ve been in love with for god knows how long. so you pull him into your room, slowly close the door behind you and turn around. the two of you now quietly standing in the room, not uncomfortable but still a little awkward.

“so… how does this, y’know, how does this usually go? do i have to like… take my shirt off or suck your dick or something….”

“uh, you could just take your clothes off and get on the bed, you don’t really have to do anything… especially since it’s your first time.” he took a few steps towards the window, turning back to look at you as he points to the blinds. “would you feel more comfortable if the room was darker?”

you nodded shyly, using the moment he turned his back as an opportunity to strip. starting with your blazer and sweater, letting it drop to the floor with a thump, your eyes were focused on suna’s form as he shut the curtains and blinds. you move onto your shirt next. slowly unbuttoning it as you walked towards the bed. your heart was pounding, your hands felt clammy and your throat felt dry, why was this so scary? after removing your clothes you were left in only your bra and panties, using your arm to cover the rest of your body.

suna takes a deep breath removing his clothes with his back still turned to you, when he too had stripped down fully, he turned to look at you over his shoulder, giving you a shy smile which you returned with an equally shy wave. suna had imagined a moment like this once or twice, but never did he think he’d actually be the one sleeping with you, not in this lifetime.

he turns to face you, taking a few timid steps before he moves you to lie down against the bed sheets. your body heats up at the sight of him, your fingers tremble as you grip the blanket beneath you. “do you wanna go under the sheets?” his voice was quiet, hands holding himself up above you. you could only nod, too nervous to speak.

once the sheet is placed above the two of you, you feel slightly more relaxed, moving your hand to cup the back of his head and play with his hair. “okay, i think i’m ready tarou.” he gives you a smile before leaning down to kiss you again, using his tongue to pry your mouth open, letting the kiss grow more heated as he begins trailing a finger down your chest towards your bellybutton, stopping short by a few inches and resting his palm flat against it. he moves to leave open mouthed kisses against your neck, taking his time when he gets to your chest. he leaves a few more soft kisses on the tops of your breasts before he begins moving his hand down again. his palm was no longer flat against you as he slowly pulled your underwear down, stopping for a minute to look back up at you. your arm was placed over your eyes as you took in a deep breath.

“are you sure you’re ready? we can stop if you need to.” you shook your head at his concerns, dropping a hand into his hair, running your fingers through his strands a few times.

“i’m okay rin, you can keep going.”

he whispered a quiet okay, before continuing where he left off, removing your underwear completely, turning to give the soft flesh of your thighs a kiss before moving to place his mouth against your core. you gasp, heart racing from his actions, your hand that was in his hair now using it to grip him tightly. he worked his mouth on you, sucking your clit gently before moving to tongue fuck you.

his actions were slow, careful, he was testing the waters, making sure you felt good and felt comfortable. he brought his hands to your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh as he continued eating you out. after a few more licks, he pulls away, eyes glancing up at you to gauge your reaction before he slowly eased a finger in, blushing profusely when you let out a small moan.

“are you still feeling okay?” his finger worked in and out of you slowly, his thumb rubbing circles on your bud to add to the pleasure. you nodded, biting your lip as you held back a moan. he smiled up at you, easing another finger in before he moved up towards your face, using his free hand to cup your chin. “you don’t have to hold back, i wanna hear you.”

you nodded, letting out a gasp as his fingers started fucking into you faster. you dropped your grip on his hair, moving to hold the sheets as you felt the pressure from his fingers and thumb build up. you felt your heart pound and your stomach fill, the sensation familiar but never this intense.

you cum on his fingers with a quiet breathy moan, half lidded eyes looking down at him as he pulls out his fingers. he gives you a reassuring smile, which you return with your own small smile, head falling back against the pillows. suna leans down to give you another kiss before pulling his own underwear off.

“how do you feel? do you want to wait a bit before i do it, or do you want me to just…do it?” he cups your cheek, thumb running over your lip as he stares down at you, a soft look in his eyes that you’d never send before.

“let me just- let me catch my breath for a second. that felt really nice, tarou.” you kissed the pad of his thumb, taking in another deep breath, giving him a nod to signal you’re ready. he rubbed his length a few times before pausing.

“we don’t have a condom…” he looked towards his pants, trying to remember whether he had brought one with him or not. “that sounds like a tomorrow problem, it’ll be fine if you just pull out right?” you turned his face to look back at you, gazing up at him so innocently.

he cleared his throat, face heating up again at the close proximity, still feeling flustered even after making you cum. “i mean, i guess so? but you could still get pregnant even if i did pull out, precum is still cum.” he nervously fidgets with the bedsheets, arms starting to ache from holding himself up.

“we could get plan b? and i take birth control.” his eyes fly back to yours, head tilting slightly.

“you take birth control?”

you shrugged at him “sometimes my periods are irregular, my doctor said it’d help.” he nodded slightly, looking back down at his member before making up his mind.

“okay, im- i’m gonna do it.” and without another second, he sinks himself into you, gasping at the tightness. arms finally giving out, he rests himself onto you, his head between your shoulder and neck, placing soft kisses to ease the pain.

your hands grip onto his back, nails digging into the flesh, feeling his muscles beneath your fingertips as he took a shuddering breath, pushing the rest of himself into you. you felt your eyes water at the sting, holding yourself back from tapping out. you wanted this, you needed this.

suna lifts his head up slightly, checking on you to make sure you were still okay, kissing away the tears. he stayed like that for a minute or two, waiting for you to signal you were ready before he slightly pulled out, pushing himself back in just as gently.

a few more thrusts and you were sure you were ready, so with a nod and a quiet whisper of “i’m okay.” suna begins thrusting into you. your grip still tight on his back, his left arm now placed above your head as his right hand grips your waist, giving it soft squeezes every few thrusts.

soon he begins speeding up the movement of his hips, moving his hand that was on your waist back down to your clit, continuing to rub circles as he thrusts faster. encouraged by your moans and gasps. his own groans and gasps escaping his lips as he shut his eyes tightly.

“fuck, you’re so tight. so warm and perfect, just for me.” you nodded, one hand moving to grip the back of his hair as your moans started increasing in volume.

“just for you rin, all for you.”

“and you were gonna consider, fuck-fucking atsumu.” he gasps out, starting thrust harder and rub your clit faster. “as if that loser could make you feel this, this good.” he takes another shuddering breath, feeling his orgasm build up quickly.

“tarou, im so close! it feels so good.” your grip on his hair tightens, letting out more moans as you try rocking back against him, feeling yourself fall over the edge when he moves his head down to suck on one of your nipples. you let out a loud moan, slapping a hand over your mouth in shock and embarrassment.

rin couldn’t help the chuckle that he let out, finding your actions cute, he quickly pulled himself out, knowing he was about to reach his own orgasm he jerked off a few more times before his own cum landed on your lower stomach. rin’s own moans filling the room as he came down from his high.

he dropped down beside you, pulling your sweaty bodies closer together and resting his head on your chest, watching your fingers push his essence around before picking some up. he gazes at you curiously, watching you bring your finger up to your face before you lick it.

“what the fuck are you doing?!”

“i’m sorry i was curious! they always swallow it in pornos, i wanted to know what yours tasted like.” you huff, wiping your fingers on your chest before you turned back to him. “it tastes like shit, why is it so salty?”

“sorry it’s not vanilla ice cream flavoured, i’ll make sure the penis juice tastes better next time.” he rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead. you snorted at him, making a move to sit up but failing. your arms were a little weak from the adrenaline crash.

rintarou picks himself up and grabs his underwear, putting them on and then making his way to the bathroom, grabbing a warm towel to wipe your stomach and in between your legs, placing soft kisses on your chest and thighs. when he’s done he throws the towel somewhere in the room, too busy trying to cuddle into you to care about where it lands.

“so, how did it feel?” you yawn in response to his question, snuggling into the warmth of his bare chest, placing your own little kisses on his collarbones. “felt like i just escaped a near death experience.” you snort at his annoyed huff, letting his hands play with your hair, feeling his gaze on you even with your eyes closed.

“it was great rin, i wouldn’t have asked for a better first time, or a better person to do it with.”

“aren’t you glad you didn’t pick tsumu?”

“oh my god.” you groaned, turning around so that your back would face him. ignoring his chuckles as he pulls you further into him. “i’m just teasing you.”

—

“hyogo’s notorious serial killer, dubbed ‘the virgin killer’ strikes again, as two students are found dead overnight in the house behind me. reports say that the parents had arrived home from work when they spotted their daughter’s boyfriend dead in the entryway, her own body being found upstairs in her bedroom. police are back to square one, believing the notes were to throw detectives off and to create a sense of false hope. forensic teams are searching high and low for evidence, more details to be released shortly.”

“holy shit, that could’ve been us…” you turn to rintarou, who was currently lazing against your couch, his head in your lap and his feet propped up on the arm rest. he hums, focus still on his phone. he smirks up at you suddenly, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“actually, it would’ve been just you. i’m not a loser virgin like you remember?”

“i’m not a virgin!”

“still a loser.” you push your boyfriends head off, ignoring his protests and pleas for you to return.

making your way to the kitchen to grab a cup of water you notice something odd on the fridge… it was a note, one that your parents hadn’t put up.

‘congratulations, yn. you win.’

signed by the initials V.K.

[boxofbonesfic]

HELLO EVERYONE!!! I’m so excited to share this challenge with you all, in honor of hitting 500 followers, I’m hosting the Hot Girl Summer challenge. Summer is my favorite time of year (not to mention it’s my birthday this month), so I wanted to do a challenge based around fun summer activities—with a smutty twist. The masterlist of submitted works is located here, the accompanying playlist is here, and the suggested prompts, quotes, and kinks are under the cut. ONTO THE RULES!

 First things first, NO MINORS. You MUST be 18 or older to participate, and trust me I will be checking. 

Though there is a WIDE range of characters I read for, I would appreciate if we could keep it to Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Thor and or Loki Odinson, or Sam Wilson 🥵😍

This is a smutty challenge, so please give it your best shot! You can pick one or more of any of the accompanying prompts, quotes or kinks to inspire your work! You don’t have to use any of them if you don’t want to, so long as it stays within the “summer” theme. 

Any and all fic tropes are acceptable, but please, absolutely NOTHING involving underage characters, bestiality (monsterfucking 100% acceptable though), and please no torture or extreme violence beyond generally accepted fight scenes, etc. Dark fics, AU’s, A/B/O, etc all acceptable!

Please tag me in your work so I can reblog it! I will also be compiling a masterlist of submitted works, and reblogging it several times throughout the challenge. The deadline is September 1st! (If tagging doesn’t work, shoot me an ask with your link! I do, however reserve the right not to reblog work that is harmful or offensive.)

Length is no issue, but please put your fic under a read-more cut if it exceeds 500 words.

Please make sure your work is tagged and warned appropriately!

There is no limit on participation, any and everyone is invited to join in!

HAVE FUN

Prompts:

School’s out for summer

Girl’s trip

Summer Rain

Cruise 

Summer job (it’s a banana, Michael. How much could it cost?)

Heatwave

Beach Party (Bonfire kisses?)

House Party (I’m just here for the alcohol.)

Sunscreen

Summer Fling (Could this be the start of something beautiful?)

Summer Bummer (All good things must come to an end…)

Home for the Summer (visit the folks! and maybe your hot neighbor/ex-boyfriend, who knows)

Sprained ankle/broken leg/injured reader, aka Laid up for the Summer

Fake Date for your friend/sister/brother’s Destination Wedding

Shipwrecked! (what a way to ruin your hot girl summer, amirite)

Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini

Laundry day aka Sundress, no panties

Summer Nights

 Quotes:

“What am I supposed to do, let it melt?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m only here because you have A/C.”

 “So sticky and messy.” 

“I can think of better ways to cool off, sweetheart.”

“I’m peelin’ that fuckin’ thing off with my teeth.” 

“That pretty pussy’s so thirsty, doll. Let me give her a drink.” 

“It’s too hot to even think about—” “You don’t have to think, sweetness.” 

“Y’know, sundress season. Where the panties are missin’ and the cheeks are glistenin’.” 

 “That’s the kind of man you lick like a freezie-pop.” 

“Oh I know you’re plenty good with that mouth, doll. Saw as much earlier.” 

“It’s not too short.”

“You’re hot. Wait—shit—I mean it’s hot. Hot outside. It’s hot. Very hot.”

“Shh. Unless you want your parents walking in here, seeing me split you open.”

“I said no panties.” 

“So wet, doll… all this for me? And don’t you dare say it’s ‘cause of the pool.”

“Goddamn tease is what you are, struttin’ around like that.” 

“If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me sweetheart.” 

“You want this dick? Show me.” 

“What are you doing?” “I just wanna see if that’s an all over tan, baby.” 

“You wanna help clean me up?”

“We should go, everyone’s waiting—!” “Let ‘em wait.”

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, doll. Almost wish he could see it, don’t you?”

“That’s it, doll. Say my fuckin’ name. Scream it.” 

“Don’t pout. I’ve got something just as sweet for you right here.” 

“Shit, maybe if you’d taken it like this we never would have broken up.” 

Kinks:

Cockwarming

Exhibitionism/Public sex

Voyeurism

Anal

Choking

Daddy kink

Choking/Breathplay

Breeding kink

Food play

Voice kink

Praise kink

Humiliation

Degredation

Oral fixation

Role-play

[chipper9906]

Switch - Chapter 5

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 14,020

Overall Word Count: 52,863

Status: Multi-Chapter - Complete (5/5)

Chapter Preview:  

“Guess we should ask…” Dylan mutters in response, clearing his throat before speaking louder. "Hey, uh… Not Laura, as you can probably tell, but uh… Who are you?”

“My name’s Max. I’m… I was supposed to be one of the counselors here, but uh… It’s kind of a long story as to why I’m not and… why I’m here.”

“Wait… Max?” Dylan asks, stepping closer to the doors. “Max as in… Laura’s boyfriend? That Max?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Max replies through the door. “And that is my full name, just to be clear. First name ‘Max’, last name ‘Larua’s boyfriend’.”

Link To Fic

OR

Click Below To Keep Reading

04:31 | AUGUST 23 - MAX

 The lake of Hackett’s Quarry looked less than inviting, with its inky black surface lapping at the legs of the dock. Max had already been here once, standing on the dock. He had been here a few times actually, going to and from it, trying to convince himself it was a good idea to get in the water and swim to the other side, back to the mainland. 

HACKETT’S QUARRY ISLAND

But was it?

Laura had left him here, had told him to stay here until she comes and gets him for a reason. Given the fact that he was human now, and the moon still hung in the sky, he could only assume that Laura had done it — she had ended his curse. So, technically, he’s not a danger to anyone anymore. And whilst that surely meant the danger was over, there had been a little voice in the back of his head that kept him put on the island, not willing to brave the cold waters and whatever awaits him on the other side. 

And that little voice in his head just happened to sound a lot like Laura’s, saying “Don’t be an idiot, keep your ass right here.”

And he had. For about… maybe an hour now, if he were to guess, he had remained right here on the island. All he had to do was wait, right? Once Laura had killed Chris Hackett, she would be making her way here, making her way to him. Except… as he said — it had been an hour, and she still wasn’t here. That’s not to say that something was wrong of course. After all, Hackett’s Quarry was a pretty big place. It could easily take more than an hour for Laura to make her way back here. 

And that would be enough to put Max’s mind at ease… If it hadn’t been for the fact that he woke up in a goddamn tree. 

Something had gone wrong. It had to have. If it had gone right, then he should have woken up back in the tree house, locked away on its upper floor. But he didn’t. Someone had let him out, whether on purpose or by accident, he didn’t know. The only reassurance he had that whoever had let him out was still alive was the lack of a body anywhere on the island. And he checked. Thoroughly. Not much else to do while he waits…

Oh, and that’s not to mention the fact that someone had stolen his friggen clothes.

So, here he was again. Stood on the edge of the dock, looking down into the endless abyss that was the lake, trying to convince himself that this was the right thing to do. Especially given he had heard a damn gunshot go off somewhere in the distance, and--

Wait… Why was there a gunshot? 

If Laura had shot Chris… Then it was over, wasn’t it? Nothing left to shoot at. So who was shooting? And at what? 

Guess he had to find out…

“Alright… This seems like a bad idea.” Max said to himself as he took a seat on the edge of the dock, quietly slipping down into the water. 

“Son of a biscuit, that’s cold!” The first touch of freezing water enveloping his body makes his breath catch, fighting through his muscle's desire to tense up to keep swimming and keep himself afloat. He takes quick, rapid breaths — the only kinds his lungs will allow him to take in his body’s shock — a part of him already regretting this. “Jeez, isn’t it supposed to be summer?”

Max swims as quickly but as quietly as he can, heading towards the other dock he can just about make out in the distance. He doesn’t want to spend another minute more in this cold water than he has to, but he’d also rather not splash about in the water and let everyone and everything in the near vicinity be alerted to his presence. 

His fingers, which had already begun to stiffen from the cold, require a little more effort than usual to wrap around the wooden posts of the dock. Max heaves with the effort as he clambers up it, dragging himself over the edge of the dock. He flops onto his back, staring up at the star-dotted sky as he catches his breath. 

There’s a part of him that’s almost expecting for something to come rushing out from the trees and maul him to death, but nothing of the sort happens. The trees remain still, apart from the occasional rustle as the wind whistles through them. His teeth began to chatter, Laura’s now soaked clothes suctioned to his skin. 

Max groans as he rolls over and clambers up to his hands and knees, then up onto his feet. Drops of water had begun to cascade down from Laura’s cap, dripping down his face. He pulled the hat off his head, gripping it in both hands and wringing out as much lake water as he can before plopping it back atop his head. 

“Okay, Max… Time to get a move on before you freeze to death…”

All well and good in theory, except for the part where he has no idea where he is or where to go. In the direction of the gunshot seemed like a bad idea on all accounts… But, there’s every chance it could be Laura, or even just someone that needs help, plus… It beats wandering aimlessly around the woods. 

Not one lick of these woods seemed familiar to Max, and why would they? He had only seen the once on his way to the island, and there were other things on his mind as he and Laura trekked over to his temporary holding cell than taking in the scenery. 

“Let’s sign up to be camp counselors for the summer, that’ll look great on our college resumes!” Max narrated to himself as he made his way down the dark and creepy trails of Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp. “Yeah… What a fun summer this was…”

  * * *

  4:50 | AUGUST 23 - DYLAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

 “Jesus, Dylan… Would you stop gawking at the dude?” 

Dylan looked away from the monitors only to be greeted by Ryan’s rather unimpressed look, to which he only deepens Ryan’s frown by cheerfully smiling at him. “Aww, no need to be jealous, babe. You know I love you the most.”

“I, uh- it’s… that-- I mean, u-um, you--”

“Wow, I actually just witnessed the breaking of Ryan’s brain,” said Emma, looking back at the two over her shoulder. 

“Guys, shouldn’t we be focusing on this right now?” Abi hissed, poking at the figure on the monitor. “What do we do? He’s obviously coming to the lodge.”

“Well, he doesn’t have any weapons. Not that I can see, anyway,” Emma says, turning her attention back to the monitors. “Kinda hard to tell though… You’d think Mr. H would have splurged on some fancy 4K cameras if it was this important to record the perimeter of the camp at all times.”

“At least it has night vision,” said Abi. 

“Yeah, so Dylan can check out random guy’s abs…” Ryan mumbled. 

“Uh, you mentioned the abs, not me,” Dylan pointed out. 

“Sounds like someone's a little jealous…” Emma sang, getting a light smack to the arm from Abi. 

Ryan scoffed. “I’m not jealous--”

“Focus, guys, focus,” Abi snapped. “Seriously, what do we do? Is he… is he one of the Hackett’s?”

“I don’t think so…” Dylan glanced over to Ryan. “Ryan, you know them better than us. Anyone in the family you think this could be?”

Ryan shook his head. “Chris didn’t talk much about his family past Kaylee and Caleb -- and that his mom lives in that house in the woods. I didn’t even know his brother was a cop until Laura told us about him.”

“Okay, so… if it’s not one of the Hackett’s, then… who the hell is right outside the lodge?” Abi asks. All four of them exchanged worried glances, the figure on the monitor getting closer and closer to the lodge…

“We could just… go out and ask him?” Emma suggests. “It’s not like he has a weapon, right? And we do. He might need our help.”

“I… think it’s better we stay here,” Ryan says. “We can keep an eye on the monitors, keep track of him--”

“Okay, and what if he tries to get inside the lodge?” Dylan asks. “Which, y’know, why wouldn’t he, given he’s headed in this direction?”

“Alright… Alright, I’m gonna go get the gun and go wait by the entrance,” Ryan says. His eyes swivel over to Dylan, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’d say it’d be safer for you to stay here, but I know better than to make that suggestion given the number of times you’ve saved my ass tonight.”

“Damn right,” Dylan agrees, returning Ryan’s half-smile. “Now come on, let’s go see if ‘Mister Mystery Hot Dude’ is good or bad.”

“I knew you thought he was hot--”

“We’ve covered this Ryan: dude is hot; not as hot as you; your tongue was down my throat like five minutes ago; now go -- get gun.”

Ryan huffed, turning around and heading back towards Mr. H’s office, knowing full well there was nothing he could come up with to respond to that. Dylan followed after him, leaving a rather stunned Abi and Emma. 

“I’m not sure if that was cute, or gross,” Abi comments. 

“Both. It was both, I think.” Emma shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. She looks over to the monitors for one last look, taking in a deep breath. “We should probably follow, right?”

“Might as well…”

They only lagged behind the two boys for a few seconds, but Ryan already had the shotgun in hand by the time they entered the room, loading in another shell. He cocked the gun back into place, nodding to the three of them before leading them towards the door and back out to the main area of the lodge. 

They all remain silent as they tip-toe through the lodge, despite the fact they knew there was no longer anything dangerous inside. At least, as far as they knew -- and as much as the cameras could show them. Ryan takes the lead, sweeping the flashlight around the lodge as they move towards the main doors. 

Ryan comes to a sudden stop, and Dylan already knows why before he’s even seen it. He already knew that right there in front of them, just outside the kitchen doors, just by the entrance to the entire lodge… was Caleb’s body. He had hoped that Ryan would never have to see it, would be spared the pain of it, but… it was likely to happen at some point. He steps up to Ryan’s side, looking over to see the sheen of pain in Ryan’s eyes as he stares down at Caleb’s blood-soaked body. Dylan has no words of comfort to offer, so he simply places his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“We should… we should move him…” Ryan mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Caleb to look over to Dylan. “We can’t just leave him here in the walkway…”

“Yeah… Yeah, okay,” Dylan agrees softly. He looks at his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, then to Caleb, then… to his non-existent other hand. Pushing around tables was one thing, but lifting a body? There was no denying that there would be some limitations now he was down a hand… “Um… I, uh…”

“We got this,” Emma cuts in, nearly making Dylan and Ryan jump as both she and Abi appear at their sides. 

Abi looked a little uneasy at the thought, but it only took one glance at Ryan’s distraught face for her to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah, we can do it, Ryan. You should be keeping an eye on the door, anyway.”

Ryan nodded his head, shooting the two a slightly wobbly smile — which Dylan knew full well took a lot of effort from Ryan right now. “I, um… Thank you. I’m not sure if I… If I could have…”

Emma reached out, giving Ryan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Ryan began to move forward again, past Caleb’s body, not wanting to look at it for a second more. Dylan followed close behind, glancing over his shoulder to see Abi and Emma had already managed to get Caleb off the floor, Emma holding him up by his shoulders whilst Abi had grabbed his legs, carefully manoeuvring him over to one of the nearby tables. 

“You didn’t have a choice, Ryan,” Dylan does his best to comfort him, already able to see the blame Ryan was placing on himself. “If you hadn’t--”

“I don’t regret it,” Ryan suddenly cut in, his gaze snapping from the door in front over to Dylan. “And I think that’s part of why I feel as shit as I do… Because I don’t feel as shit as I should. But if doing what I did meant you were safe? Then I’d do it all over again. In a heartbeat. I just… I wish it didn’t come down to this.”

A knock at the door stopped any other words Dylan was going to say in response to that. Both he and Ryan look to the door, Ryan slowly bringing the shotgun up and keeping it aimed right at center mass. Dylan could see Abi and Emma out of the corner of his eye, the two of them having made their way back over to them at the sound of the knock. 

“Hello?” A voice they don’t recognize calls out, muffled from the other side of the door. “Laura? Are you in there?”

“Laura?” Ryan mutters, keeping his voice low so whoever was on the other side couldn’t hear him. “He knows Laura?”

“Guess we should ask…” Dylan mutters in response, clearing his throat before speaking louder. "Hey, uh… Not Laura, as you can probably tell, but uh… Who are you?”

“My name’s Max. I’m… I was supposed to be one of the counselors here, but uh… It’s kind of a long story as to why I’m not and… why I’m here.”

“Wait… Max?” Dylan asks, stepping closer to the doors. “Max as in… Laura’s boyfriend? That Max?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Max replies through the door. “And that is my full name, just to be clear. First name ‘Max’, last name ‘Larua’s boyfriend’.”

Dylan snorted, getting a sneaking suspicion that he and Max were going to get along just fine — likely to the displeasure of both Ryan and Laura. Ryan rolled his eyes at Dylan’s snorted laughter, lowering the shotgun as he approached the door. “Alright, I’m gonna let you in, but just… keep your hands where I can see them, okay?”

“Um… Okay?”

“Here, come help me get this out of the way,” Ryan throws over his shoulder to Dylan, grabbing hold of one end of the table they used to block the door earlier. Dylan hurries over to the other end, pushing at the table whilst Ryan pulls it, quickly removing it from the door. 

Ryan reached for the door, keeping the shotgun ready just in case as he pulled the door open. Sure enough, standing on the other side is the very same guy they say walking around on the monitors, exposed mid-riff and all. A quick scan over him proved Emma’s earlier claim right; the guy -- Max -- didn’t have any weapons in his possession. 

“Oh, man… you have no idea how nice it is to see other people,” Max said with a beaming smile, stepping through the door and into the lodge. 

“Did you swim here or something?” Ryan asked, eyeing up Max’s damp clothes whilst he closed the door behind him.

“Oh, uh…” Max glanced down at himself, throwing his arms out to the side. “…Yeah, actually. I was on that island, in the lake? I was kinda… kinda supposed to stay put actually, but I heard a gunshot, which…” Max trailed off, eyes dropping down to the gun in Ryan’s hands. “…I’m assuming was you?”

“Um… yeah,” Ryan says, eyes dropping down to the floor. Max raises an eyebrow at that, wondering where the sudden awkwardness had come from, but a quick glance to his right, to the body he could say laid out on a nearby table, answered that for him. 

“I’m, uh… I’m guessing you guys know about… y’know, everything. Or at least, I hope you do and that’s not just a random dead person over there.”

“We know as much as Laura does,” Dylan tells Max. “She caught us up to speed with everything that happened to you guys.”

Max’s eyes visibly brightened at the mention of Laura’s name. “You talked to Laura? Is she… is she okay?”

“Far as we know,” Ryan answers. “She and Kaitlyn went off together to… to go find Chris.”

“Yeah, and given you’re… you again…” Dylan gestured towards Max. “I, uh… I’m guessing they were successful.”

“How long ago did you talk to her?” Max asks. 

“Oh uh… like, hours ago now. Four or five maybe?” Dylan answers. 

“And that’s the last time you saw her?” Max asks. 

Dylan nods. “How long have you been… back to your normal self?”

“I don't know, like... two hours maybe?” Max says, brow pinched with worry. “They should have been back by now... right?”

“Not necessarily. The Hackett House is pretty far into the woods, so it’s a decent walk to and from here,” Ryan says. 

“Yeah, I mean… From what we saw of Laura, she seemed super capable,” Abi pitches in. “And Kaitlyn, too. Them two together… I’m sure they’re fine.”

“I never met this ‘Laura’, so I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Emma adds. 

“You should probably know though that Laura… kinda got bit. By… you,” Ryan tells Max. 

“What? I…How?”

“She thought she had killed Chris, but… she killed Kaylee instead. His… His daughter. But because she thought it was Chris, she went back to find you thinking you were gonna be human again, but… you weren’t.” Ryan explained. 

“Oh no… Oh… Christ…” Max spat, pacing back and forth with his hands on his head. “I… I bit her? I infected Laura?”

“Whoa, hey, Max — it’s okay,” Dylan assured him. “Think about it — she’s not infected anymore. If you’re you again, it means… uh…”

“It means that Chris is dead,” Ryan finishes the sentence Dylan wasn’t sure he should. 

“Right… But the chain of infection starts with Chris, right? Chris passed it on to you, then you to Laura. But if Mr. H is dead, then the chain is broken, so…”

“So we’re both cured…” Max breathed in realization, pacing coming to a stop. He slowly pulled his hands away from his head, breathing a sigh of relief. “Right… Yeah… That… That was stupid of me, I should have figured that out…”

“Nah… You’d be surprised how often stress will just like… stop your brain working,” Dylan says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I can attest to that personally.” Ryan took a hand off the shotgun to raise it in the air. “I’m fairly certain the stress of tonight has permanently fried my brain or something.”

“What?” Dylan protested. “Ryan, your decision-making tonight has been perfectly fine--”

“Dude, you asked me to chop off your hand and I did it. Like, no questions asked, I grabbed that chainsaw and fucking sawed it off.”

“Yeah, so?”

“We didn’t even know it was werewolves yet! You jumped to a massive conclusion, and I just jumped right along with you!”

“Oh my God, how have I only just noticed you’re missing a hand?!” Max exclaimed, gawking at Dylan’s hand -- or lack thereof. “Did I… Did I do that?”

“What, you haven’t gathered from our conversation that Ryan’s the one that chopped my hand off?” Dylan snarked, getting a light shove from Ryan that had him grinning. “No, it couldn’t have been you. You were stuck on the island, right? So it wouldn’t have been possible. I lost this bad boy back at the radio hut.”

Max stared wide-eyed at Dylan. “You’re… remarkably upbeat for someone that’s lost a hand.”

Dylan shot Max a lazy smile, stepping towards him. “Hi, I’m Dylan — I use humor to mask the pain.” Dylan reached out a hand for Max to shake, looking down to see he was offering… the arm without a hand. “Oops, sorry, that’s gonna take some time to get used to.”

Dylan switched hands, offering out his last remaining one. Max shook his hand, chuckling quietly at the strangeness of it all. “Well… You already know my name.”

“Indeed we do, ‘Max-Comma-Laura’s-Boyfriend’,” Dylan stopped shaking Max’s hand, reaching it out to his side to place it on Ryan’s shoulder. “This is Ryan, by the way. And that’s Emma--” Dylan pointed behind him to her, before shifting his pointed finger over to Abi. “--And that’s Abi.”

“Hi,” both girls said, waves of greeting in sync. 

“Would have been nice to have met you guys the normal way, but uh… still nice to meet you either way.” Max glanced down at himself once again, suppressing a shiver from the feeling of his cold damp clothes stuck to his skin. “Hey, is there any chance we can get a fire going in the…” he trailed off, taking in the sight of the destroyed chimney. “…Oh, guess not.”

“Here--” Emma unwraps the hoodie that she had tied around her waist, passing it over to Max. “Hopefully that’ll warm you up a little.”

“Thanks--” Max gives the hoodie a double take, and then looks closer at Emma’s attire. “Wait a second… You were the one that stole my clothes?”

“The ones I found stuffed into an old bag up in the tree house? They were yours?” Emma asks in return.

“Yeah, Laura and I put a change of clothes into the duffel so I’d have something to wear when I turned back, since… exploding into a friggen werewolf tends to rid you of your clothes, and--” Max gestures at himself with a dramatic wave of his arm. “--This wasn’t exactly my first choice of clothing.”

“At least you can pull it off,” Dylan offers, giving Ryan a teasing jab with his elbow. “Right, Ryan?”

“Yeah, I’m not even gonna answer that.”

“I heard a ‘yeah’ in there.”

“What? No- that’s not what I--” Ryan sighed, throwing up a hand into the air. “Fine, sure. He can pull it off.”

“...Thank you?” Max said, hoodie partway on, caught between one of the weirdest ‘arguments’ he’s probably ever witnessed. 

“It really sucks that my phone got drenched,” Emma laments, arms folded as she pouts. “I could have shown you this great pic of you I snagged while you were trying to rip my face off.”

“Oh Jesus -- I attacked you too?” Max asks.

“Yeah, but it was… kinda my fault,” Emma admits. “Granted, I had no idea you were up there as a werewolf, but… yeah, I opened up the hatch thingey in the tree house and ‘Surprise! Werewolf in the attic, jumping down on top of me'.”

“Did I hurt you?” Max asks, and they could hear the guilt in his voice, as if he was automatically assuming that was the case. 

“Pfft, no,” Emma answers with a snort. “The tazer and bear spray you guys packed into the bag turned out to be quite the werewolf deterrents. Was how I managed to take a photo of you all up close and gross. Uh, no offense.”

Max huffed softly in laughter. “You know, usually I would, but I’ve seen myself on video while one of those things and… yeah, I look disgusting and super gross.”

“To be fair, I think that’s the case for all werewolves,” Abi says. “I mean, the thing Nick turned into was… horrifying.”

“Yeah, and the one that tried to take my hand off won’t be winning any beauty contests any time soon,” Dylan adds. “You know, we still probably could get those photos off your phone, Emma.”

“How? It’s dead,” Emma says, pulling her water-sodden phone out of her pocket and waving it in Dylan’s direction. 

“You never heard of the rice trick?” Dylan asks. “Not just rice either. Anything absorbent. Actually, silica gel is the best, but rice usually works, too. Stick your phone in there, let it dry out, then boom – phone turns back on. Sometimes.”

“Okay… Do you have any rice?” Emma asks.

“...No,” Dylan replies after a few moments of awkward silence. “But even if your phone doesn’t turn back on, there’s usually some tools you can use to extract data and shit from it. And given the cops are gonna want as much evidence as possible, I’m sure they’ll put their best resources into recovering those photos.”

“Oh, God… The cops…” Ryan groaned. “What the hell are we even gonna say? How do we explain any of this?”

“I’m getting thrown straight back into a jail cell aren’t I…” said Max. 

“But we have proof, right?” Abi asks. “We’ve all found some weird stuff that backs everything up, and been taking photos.”

“Yeah, I got a few.” Dylan waves his phone in the air. 

“So… what? We’re just gonna tell them the truth?” Ryan asks. 

“Got any better ideas?” Emma asks in return. 

“I just… don’t think that the cops are going to believe that it was werewolves. Even if we do have evidence, it’s… it’s too insane.”

“The truth is all we’ve got, Ryan,” said Dylan. “We tell them our story, give them our evidence and… see what happens.”

“Wait… Are the police on their way now?” Max asks. 

“We… don’t know,” Dylan admits. “We tried calling them when Nick first got attacked, but uh… phone lines got cut.”

“Also tried getting a radio message out,” Ryan adds on. “Also didn’t work. Well, it did, but it kind of got intercepted by who I’m now assuming were Chris’s family and, uh… You said it had a pretty short range anyway, right Dylan?”

“Yeah, about a mile.” Dylan nods. “The signal booster might have got the message through to someone else, but, y’know… Didn’t exactly get much time to see if anyone was radioing us back.”

“So… Now what?” Emma asks. “Phone lines are cut, radios unlikely to reach anyone, mini-vans busted--”

“Oh, I was wondering why you guys were still here,” Max interjected. “Camp ended yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to be out of here by now, but… There was a part missing from the mini-van, right, Ryan?”

“Uh, missing?” Max directs to Ryan. “How exactly did that happen? Car parts don’t usually just up and walk out on you.”

“We still haven’t figured that one out,” Ryan says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yeah, and you guys still haven’t answered my question,” Emma cuts in. “What are we gonna do? As much as explaining this to the cops is going to suck, we do still need them here.”

“Sure, but how?” Dylan asks. “Phone lines were like… cut cut, right? And unless any of you guys know how to repair something like that, the phone’s still a no-go.”

“I suppose we could just, like, walk. At least, far enough until we get signal and can make a call?” Emma suggests. 

“You remember the drive up here, right?” Dylan asks. “We all lost signal way far away from camp. I doubt we could walk that far, and if we did, our phones would die long before we get anywhere with signal.”

“You can’t, like… charge them up?” Max asks. 

“...Yeah, we’re not all standing here in the dark for aesthetic reasons, man,” Ryan says dryly, the comment earning him a muffled snort from Dylan. “They cut the power same time they cut the phone lines.”

Max huffs. “Well that’s… great. Seriously, what is wrong with these people? Would they seriously rather let innocent people die than go get proper help for this… curse? Affliction? I don’t know what to call it.”

“That’s… kinda what it seems like, yeah. Especially if Jacob did actually see a body in the lake,” Dylan points out. 

“Oh. And it keeps getting better.” Max turns away with a sigh, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hips. He stays there for a moment, thinking, before turning back to them all. “Okay, I think I should head back to the island.”

They all stare at Max in surprise for a moment, before Dylan finally speaks up. “Uh… Why would you do that?”

“Because that’s where Laura expects me to be,” Max explains. “Really, I shouldn’t have left there in the first place. But I heard the gunshot and I thought… I don’t know, maybe she was in trouble or… or someone needed help. Either way, you guys are obviously fine, so… Best thing for me to do is go back and wait. For all I know, Laura could be there right now trying to figure out where I up and vanished to.”

“We still don’t know what could be out there,” Ryan says. “Sure, you’re back to normal which hopefully means any other werewolves are back to normal too. But we don’t know that for sure. And even if that is the case…” Ryan hesitated for a moment, the reality of what he was about to say next still not sitting right with him, even if he knows it’s likely to be the truth. “We still don’t know how many more of Chris’s family there are around. And from what we’ve seen so far tonight, they’re… they’re not being all that ‘friendly’.”

“Trust me, I know that. I’ve spent two friggen months under the captivity of Travis Hackett, okay? But even so, I need to at least try and find Laura.”

“Look, for safety’s sake it’s best we all just wait for dawn to break. It’s not that far out anyway,” Ryan suggests. “And it’s not like you’re the only one of us that has someone out there they’re worried about, okay? We’ve still gotta find Kaitlyn, and Nick, and Jacob--”

“Never thought I’d make it into your list, Erzhaler.”

They all whirl around at the unexpected voice, Ryan bringing up the shotgun and pointing it in the direction they had heard the voice coming from. The flashlight attached to the shotgun lands on Jacob, who winces at its bright glare, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes. “Jesus, dude, that’s the second time tonight you’ve pointed that thing at me. Starting to get the feeling you don’t like me or something.”

“Jacob? The hell did you--” Ryan starts, then stops once he realizes there was another person standing just behind him. “Holy Shit, Nick?”

“Oh my God…” Abi utters softly at the sight of him. He was coated in blood, and his clothes could barely be called clothes anymore, reduced to flimsy shreds of fabric that barely provided him with modesty. 

“Yeah, I uh… I found him in the woods on my way over here,” Jacob explains, limping somewhat as he makes his way over to the group. Nick sluggishly follows, nervous eyes darting around the lodge with every step. “He’s, uh… He’s a little shaken up,” Jacob adds quietly. 

“Where… exactly did you even come from, man?” Ryan asks. “How’d you get in here?”

“Oh, there’s a window open,” Jacob answers, looking over his shoulder to where he and Nick had come from. “I came through it yesterday when Dylan thought it’d be funny to lock the door on me--”

“Uh, I didn’t think it was funny,” Dylan corrects him. “I knew it was funny. And it was.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Emma asks Jacob, an odd mixture of both concern and annoyance shining in her eyes. “After you pushed me off the edge of the walkway--”

“I didn’t… push you off,” Jacob was quick to insist. 

“Whatever, after that thing attacked us and I ended up in the water, you sorta just… I don’t know, disappeared I guess.”

“Yeah, it’s uh… it’s a long story,” Jacob says. 

“Like the kind of long story from when you showed up with your face covered in blood?” Dylan asks, then pauses, smiling at Jacob as he points to his own face. “Hey! Twinsies!”

“Why are you…?” Jacob begins, but decides it better to not ask. “Uh, anyway, yeah — exactly like that. I ended up stepping into a stupid fucking bear trap one of those hunter guys set up—” Jacob points down at his leg, puncture marks still visible even in the dark of the lodge. “Fucked up my leg pretty bad.”

“I think I can one-up you,” Dylan says, lifting up his stub into the air and giving it a wave. 

Jacob’s eyes widen at the sight of it, his mouth falling open. “Holy Shit, dude, what -- what the hell happened?”

“Ryan cut it off. With a chainsaw,” Dylan answers, missing out a few key details in his story. 

“Uh, what?”

“Jesus, Dylan. Can you not make it sound like I did it for fun or something?” Ryan asks, giving Dylan a light nudge. 

“Sorry, but it is funny seeing people’s reaction when they hear that,” Dylan says, his satisfied smile getting Ryan to roll his eyes. He turns back towards Jacob. “But yeah, full disclaimer, Ryan did it to save my life. Or… stop me from becoming a werewolf after one of them bit me. Wait… How much of all this do you know about?”

“Bits and pieces, I think,” Jacob answers. “After I stepped in that trap those hunter dudes knocked me out and threw me in some fucking cages under their house. And, uh… Nick was there too, in the other cage. At least… I think it was him.” 

Nick winces at the reminder, arms wrapped around himself and head bowed, staring at the ground. None of them really know what to say or do that might be of some comfort to Nick. Especially Abi, judging by the way she kept glancing over in his direction as they spoke. But Dylan could only imagine the reminder of what he’d done — and the things he had said — still sat fresh in her mind. Even if they knew it wasn’t exactly Nick. 

“So, uh… How’d you escape?” Ryan asks. 

“Kaitlyn found me. Her and… shit, I can’t remember her name… She had like this eyepatch and… was kinda trigger happy?”

“Laura?” Max asks, speaking for the first time since Jacob and Nick had appeared. “You spoke to Laura too?”

“Laura! That was her na--” Jacob had to give Max a double take, for one: not knowing who the hell he was, and two… He barely held back a snort, eyebrow raised as his eyes raked over Max’s ‘choice’ of attire. “Dude… The hell are you wearing?”

Max just raised an eyebrow back at Jacob, returning his questioning gaze as he looked him up and down. “Uh… Not sure you can talk given I’m literally looking at your nipples right now.”

“He’s got you there,” Dylan tells Jacob with a teasing grin. “Have you seriously been running around the whole night with your tits out?”

“I mean… It’s not exactly like I’ve had the opportunity to get dressed,” Jacob says. “After Kaitlyn told me about all the crazy shit that’s happened and that they have to… kill Mr. H or something, she got me out of the cage and I came straight here. I wasn’t exactly gonna hang around in my kidnapper's house and find some clothes, am I?”

“Well… Guess we know they made it to the house at least,” said Emma. 

“...Who is that?” Nick speaking took everyone by surprise, given he had been silent since arriving. They follow his line of sight to the body laid out on the table. 

“It’s… It’s Caleb. Caleb Hackett,” Dylan answers solemnly. “Turns out he was a werewolf too. He, um... He got into the lodge and was trying to kill us.”

“Did…” Nick hesitates, eyes swiveling over from Caleb’s body to them, glossy with unshed tears. “Did I… Did I try and hurt any of you?”

“No, no you didn’t,” Ryan quickly tried to assure Nick. “I… think.”

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve only got this, and you were still… you, when it happened,” Dylan says, gesturing to his amputated hand. 

“...How much do you remember?” Abi timidly asks Nick. 

“Nothing. At least, nothing when I was… one of those things. But I…” Nick’s voice shakes, a few of those unshed tears spilling free. “I’m so sorry… I… I do remember what happened before I changed… The things I said… What I did…” Nick looks over to Abi, expression filled with shame. “Abi… I’m so fucking sorry… How could I have… Fuck.”

“It wasn’t you,” Abi says quietly. “I know it wasn’t you, Nick.”

“It really wasn’t,” Max adds on, much to their surprise. “Trust me, I know. I was fortunate enough to be drugged and unconscious when I first turned, so I can’t even imagine how intense it is. But I was awake for the next one, and… You just start to lose yourself. You can feel this other thing taking over, and there’s nothing you can do. You feel yourself being pushed back, locked away as this violent being claws its way to the surface. Then, right before, it’s… it’s pain, and burning, and… and it’s every bad thought you’ve ever had about yourself, about others, about the whole damn world all rolled into one, then… lights out.”

Nick nods, eyes cast to the ground. “I’m still sorry, though. I was such a dick…”

“I’m sorry, too,” Abi also apologizes, which confused Nick enough that he looks away from the ground and up at her. 

“Sorry for… what?”

“I shot you,” Abi says, in disbelief that she has to remind Nick of that. “I… Oh my God, I… shot you.”

“Because you had to,” Nick insists. “Abi, I… I threw you across the room. I could have killed you. Listen, I’m glad you shot me, because if you hadn’t…” Nick shakes his head. “I don’t even wanna think about what could have happened…”

“Hey, so, uh… So long as we’re on the whole… apologizing thing,” Jacob cuts into the awkward tension they found themselves in — in a way that somehow made it worse. “I, uh… I kinda have something to tell you guys. And… apologize for.”

Ryan narrows his eyes at Jacob, head tilted back as he gives him a suspicious glare. “What exactly could you have to apologize for?”

Jacob exhales shakily, staring down at the floor hands jittering by his side as he works up the courage. “Um… Okay, so… So you know how we couldn’t get the mini-van to work yesterday?”

They all nod, waiting for Jacob to continue. “That was… That was kinda… me…”

“Wait… The missing rotor arm…?” Ryan starts to put the pieces together, suspicion very quickly turning to anger. “Dude, you -- you stole the fucking rotor arm?”

“Whoa, what?” Dylan exclaimed. “That was you?” 

“Seriously? Jesus, Jacob… What the fuck?” Emma’s words were the ones to make Jacob flinch, head still lowered in his shame. “Oh my God, wait a second… When… When you said that ‘this wasn’t how you wanted the night to go…’ That’s what you were talking about?”

“I didn’t exactly know all this was going to happen, alright?” Jacob tried to defend himself, hands thrown out to his side to gesture towards the messy interior of the lodge — and towards the night overall. “Like… seriously! How could I have possibly known that this was how the night would go down? I just… I wanted one more night, okay? One more night of summer fun, and I… I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t ready for it to be over.”

“And… what? You thought it’d be a good idea to sabotage our only way out of here and force us to stay another night against our will?” Emma questions Jacob's 'plan’, each word spoken breaking down Jacob’s defense.

“Wait… So where’s the part you took?” Dylan asks.

“I lost it…” Jacob mumbles. “When Emma and I went swimming, it fell into the lake. I tried to get it back but… I couldn’t.”

“Well… That explains a lot…” Ryan says. Dylan looks over to him in surprise at the amount of hostility packed into his voice, a little part of him feeling nervous at how tightly Ryan was gripping the shotgun. “I should have known… When you were being a dick to me trying to get the van ‘working’. More so than usual, anyway.”

“What do you want me to say, man?” Jacob retorts. “That I'm sorry? Because yeah, I am. I can guarantee you that no one in this room hates me more than I hate myself right now. I wish I hadn’t done it, but I did, and I can’t change that.”

“All of this… it could have been avoided.” Ryan shakes his head in disgust. “We wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for you.”

“Hey, back off!” Jacob raises his voice as he — stupidly — steps closer to Ryan. “I know what I did was shitty, but it’s not like I would have done it if I’d known there were fucking werewolves and people with guns running about!”

“Whoa, guys--” Dylan tries to break up the brewing fight he could see coming from a mile away. He jolts in surprise when Ryan all but throws the shotgun at him, pinning it to his chest with his arm. Probably a good idea all things considered given how heated Jacob and Ryan were getting… 

“That still doesn’t take away how much of an asshole you are. All because you couldn’t accept that Emma doesn’t want you anymore, you nearly got us all killed--”

“Fuck you, man!” Jacob takes another step closer. 

“No, fuck you!” Ryan spits, jabbing a finger in Jacob’s direction. “Fucking look at Dylan’s hand! You see that?! It’s gone. One of those fucking things bit him, and that’s on you. This is your fault--”

“Oh, is it now?” Jacob says. The sneer in his voice makes Dylan’s stomach turn, getting a nasty feeling that whatever he was going to say next might just push Ryan over the edge. “Could have sworn Dylan said you cut his hand off, so I think we know whose fault that is.”

Yep, that did it. Ryan’s eyes may have already been alight with rage, but now they were downright burning. “What did you just say--?!” Ryan steps forward, shoving hard at Jacob’s chest. Despite being smaller than him, the push is enough to send Jacob stumbling back a few steps, who looks about as shocked at Ryan’s — rarely shown — display of strength. Unfortunately, it also pisses Jacob off even more. His fists curl by his sides, and Dylan’s fairly certain there’s about to be another punch thrown. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Dylan drops the gun down on a nearby table, both the loud clang of that and his yell —also rarely shown (or heard, he supposed) — stopping both Ryan and Jacob in their tracks. “This whole 'blame game' thing is fucking pointless. Yes, what Jacob did was stupid and yes, we’re all gonna be a little pissed about that. But you know what? You could put the blame on me, too.”

“What?” Ryan splutters. “Dylan, there’s nothing you--”

“I was the one that suggested the party, remember?” Dylan says firmly. “Mr. H wanted us to stay inside. You wanted us to stay inside. But because of me, we were all out in the woods. Out in danger. So would you put the blame on me too?”

“No, no, that’s--” 

“Hell, you could put the blame on everyone. You could say that if Emma hadn’t kissed Nick during that dare--” Dylan pauses to direct his next words to Emma. “--Also, not putting the blame on you in the slightest, just making a point--” Emma shrugs her shoulders in understanding, waiting for Dylan to continue. “--Then Abi and Nick wouldn’t have ended up in the woods, and Nick wouldn’t have gotten bit. Or you could just skip straight to Abi and say that if she hadn’t run off into the woods on her own that Nick wouldn’t have gotten bit. You could put the blame on Max and Laura for showing up here a night early--”

“Or not going to the Harbringer motel…” Max mutters under his breath.

“...What?” Dylan asks.

“Nothing, never mind. Continue with your argument.”

“Right. Well, anyway, point is, there’s no point in pointing fingers in blame and asking questions of ‘what if?’ It sucks, but what happened, happened. We can’t change it. And I’m not saying you can’t be upset about it, but you know what? We’re alive. And I’m sure Kaitlyn and Laura will be back in no time. So we can please just be grateful for that much, and not keep up this terrible night by punching each other?!” 

Ryan blinked in surprise at Dylan’s outburst, not at all used to hearing him raise his voice. It seemed to have worked though, both Jacob’s and Ryan’s anger having slipped away after Dylan argued his piece. Everyone in the room was frozen still, apart from the occasional glance at each other, not knowing what to say or do next after all that. And, again, apart from Ryan, who was just staring at Dylan in his shock. 

“I think you might have broken Ryan again,” Emma told Dylan, breaking the silence. “Either that or you turned him on. Not sure which yet.”

  * * *

  05:50 | AUGUST 23 - RYAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

 Ryan leaned against the banister that overlooked the entrance to the lodge, his forearms resting across the top as he stared out into the forest. He could just about see the few slivers of light through the trees, steadily brightening yellows and oranges replacing the stifling darkness of the previous night. He hadn’t been out here for long, maybe only five minutes or so. Seems he had come at the perfect time to see the approaching dawn of a new day.

“Now that’s a nice sight, huh?” Dylan’s voice comes from next to him, the other boy appearing out of the corner of his eye. He joins him in leaning against the banister, both of them now enjoying the upcoming sunrise. 

Ryan hums in agreement to Dylan’s statement. “Never been much of a morning person, but yeah. Don’t think I’ve appreciated the sunrise as much as I do right now.”

“You did always seem extra grumpy in the mornings,” Dylan teases him, lightly bumping his shoulder against his. 

Ryan’s mouth ticks up as he huffs. “Could have been a lot grumpier. Your morning announcements made it easier to start the day.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hate my voice by the end of camp,” Dylan says, turning to the side to face Ryan as he speaks. “You must have been getting tired of the announcements a little bit.”

Ryan just smiles as he shakes his head, looking away from the surrounding forest and over at Dylan. “Nope. Not one bit. I like your voice.”

“Oh, good. Maybe I’ll start a podcast or something. Give you an excuse to listen to my sultry tones.”

“Or we could just… talk over the phone. Or on discord or something. Or… in person,” Ryan suggests. 

“Well, that’s a given,” Dylan says with a playful smile. “Now that you’ve caved and given me your number, I will be taking full advantage of the opportunity you’ve gifted me.”

“Go ahead and ‘take full advantage’,” Ryan challenges him. “That is why I gave you my number.”

“...For me to annoy you?”

“If that’s how you wanna see it, sure,” Ryan says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But I see it more as… your own strange yet endearing way of both showing your affection and asking for attention.”

“Hmm, we’ll see if you change your tune a few months down the line. Twenty bucks you get sick of me.”

Ryan snorts, looking at Dylan in disbelief. “Dude, never. That’s never gonna happen. If we can get through two months of summer camp in charge of a bunch of hyper kids and survive a night like the one we did and still come out of it liking each other, let alone like each other more than we did at the start, then I’d say the odds of me getting sick of you are slim to none.”

Dylan’s smile just got goofier and goofier the more Ryan spoke, to which Ryan shot Dylan a perplexed frown as he asked him, “What?”

“So you like me, huh?”

Ryan took in a deep breath, and then sighed. Seemed Dylan was already trying to test him with the whole ‘can’t get sick of you’ claim. Or maybe Dylan just wanted some extra, verbal confirmation. “Yes, Dylan. I like you, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Okay, but do you ‘like like’ me?”

Never mind, Dylan was definitely just trying to mess with him here. “Jesus dude… It’s like we’re back in middle school.”

Dylan broke, chuckling softly at the amused exasperation in Ryan’s voice. His laughter tapered off as his eyes slid away from Ryan and to the sight of Max on the other side of the balcony, who was pacing up and down the small stretch that wrapped around the side of the lodge. He had been out here ever since the conversation in the lodge had come to an end, either doing exactly what he’s doing now, or what Ryan was doing — staring out into the forest, waiting for any sign of movement. 

Waiting for Laura. 

“Wow. He really loves her, huh?” Dylan says quietly, gesturing with a nod in his head in Max’s direction when Ryan gives him an understandably confused look at the statement. 

Ryan twists his head around, following Dylan’s line of sight to Max. “Yeah, I’d say so… Can’t exactly say I’d be doing much better in his shoes if it were you out there.”

Dylan ducked his head, hiding his rapidly reddening face, grateful that Ryan was still looking in Max’s direction. Probably for the best that he doesn’t think too much about what Ryan was implying there. Dylan cleared his throat, trying to clear said implications from his head. “Is there, uh… Anything we should do?”

“I don’t think he really wants to hear comforting words right now. But… Give it ten minutes or so and we’ll start getting ready to go and search for them.” Ryan glanced over at Dylan, just in time to see the wince Dylan was trying his best to hide, amputated arm held in his only good hand. “If, uh… If you’re up for it, that is.”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just--” Dylan winced again, not doing much to back up his claim. “I think those painkillers Kaitlyn gave me are starting to wear off…”

“That… doesn’t sound like you’re fine,” Ryan says, brow creased in worry. 

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Dylan tries to insist. “Every now and then it just kinda… twinges a little I guess. Trust me, it could be worse.”

“Wait here a second,” Ryan tells Dylan, rushing back into the lodge before Dylan could even ask him where he’s going. He heads straight for Chris’s office, snatching up the little bottle of heavy-duty painkillers they had left on the desk before rushing back outside and to Dylan. 

“Here.” Ryan holds out the bottle for Dylan to take. 

“Oh, cool. Where’d you get these from?” Dylan asks as he plucks the bottle from Ryan, popping open the top and peeking inside. 

“They were the ones you grabbed from Chris’s bathroom, remember?” 

“Sweet. I mean, even if you had found them lying around the place somewhere, I’m not really in a position to turn down mystery painkillers.”

“Yeah, well… It’s not like Chris will need them anymore.”

Dylan paused, bottle held mid-air as his eyes darted to and from Ryan. “Uh… Was that a joke, or…?”

“More a matter of fact…” Ryan grumbled. 

“Suppose you’re right…” Dylan upturned the bottle of pills, shaking a few of them into his mouth and swallowing them straight down. He lowered his arm back down, only to be greeted by Ryan’s part amazed part concerned stare. 

“Uh… I don’t know whether I should be impressed that you just dry-swallowed them.”

Dylan wiggles his eyebrows in response, fumbling with the bottle somewhat as he places the cap back on. “No gag reflex, baby. I’ll leave you to think on that one.”

“Isn’t it actually kind of dangerous to dry swallow pills?” Ryan asks.

“...Probably. I think there’s a chance it can get stuck in your throat or something.”

“Dude, you should have asked me to get you a glass of water or something.”

“Well I’m not choking, am I?” Dylan pointed out. “I’m sure it’s fine to do it once.”

“If you say so. I’d just rather not have to explain to the paramedics and the police that you died not because of some rabid animals that were hunting us all night, but because you choked to death on some painkillers.”

“I mean… There are worse ways to die.”

“True,” Ryan conceded, leaning forward against the banister again. “Um… I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier. I… I shouldn’t have got that angry.”

Dylan sighs, cautiously resting his injured arm on top of the banister. “Not really me you have to be apologizing to. I wasn’t the one you were about to take a swing at.”

“I know, I know. And I will. I’m just…” Ryan absentmindedly played with his fingers as he spoke. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet. I’m still kind of…”

”Pissed off?” Dylan guessed. 

“Aren’t you?” Ryan asked, looking up from his hands and to Dylan. “I don’t know how you were so calm about it. I… I get that I shouldn’t have gotten angry on your behalf, but… Jesus, Dylan. You lost your hand because of tonight. It doesn’t upset you a little that we were trapped here because of Jacob?”

Dylan stares down at his feet, taking in a deep breath. “A little? Sure. Maybe I’m too tired to think on it all that much, but… Like I said before, I’m just glad we’re all alive. Well, hopefully all of us…” Dylan adds on, glancing anxiously towards the entrance of the camp. 

“If any of us were gonna make it out of here alive, it’d be Kaitlyn,” Ryan claimed, trying to keep the optimism high. “You put a gun in her hands, and nothing will stop her.”

“Good point. I actually saw you guys during one of the shooting lessons. You seemed like you were doing well until Kaitlyn came along and whooped your ass.”

“It’s a little scary to be honest.”

Dylan chuckles, completely in agreement. “Oh, for sure. And then Kaitlyn and Laura together? Terrifying duo right there… Werewolves are probably more scared of them than they are of them…”

Ryan chuckled softly, his mouth pulled into one of those rare smiles that crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Anyone ever told you you have a really nice smile?” Dylan asks. 

“Only you,” Ryan says, a half smile still pulling at his lips. 

“They’re very contagious. First time I saw you smile this summer, I made it my personal challenge to make you smile as much as I could. Didn’t realize how much of a challenge it was, but man was it worth it.”

Ryan tries his best to hide his bashful smile from Dylan’s words, face ducked down as he feels a rush of heat to his face. “Come on… It’s just a smile.”

“Oh, you have no idea how much power that smile of yours holds,” Dylan says, turning to face forward and nudging his shoulder into Ryan’s. “And your laugh? Forget seeing you smile for the first time. First time I heard your laughter, the butterflies in my stomach were going crazy. Knew right then and there that I was a goner…”

Ryan reached out for Dylan’s hand on top of the banister, who flips over his hand for Ryan to take. They lace their fingers together, Ryan giving his hand a light squeeze as he glances up at Dylan. “And yet you waited until the end of summer to make your move.”

“Yeah, well… Didn’t want to make Emma and Jacob jealous when we become the new cutest couple.”

Ryan huffs, finding himself nodding his head in agreement. “Do you… Do you ever regret not making a move earlier in the summer?” 

“Yes and no, I guess. I can’t tell you how many nights I spent trying to convince myself to just man up and tell you how I felt. But… every morning I’d wake up and chicken out of it. Didn’t want to make the rest of the summer awkward if you said no…”

“Don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse, but…” Ryan squeezes his hand again. “I was hesitant to let myself feel the way I do until I knew you felt the same, so uh… I wouldn’t have said no.”

“I… don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse either,” Dylan says, getting another laugh out of Ryan. 

“Kind of a shame, huh? Sucks to think how much fun we could have had this summer…”

Dylan bites back a grin, nudging Ryan with his elbow to get him to look at him. “Fun, huh? What kind of fun are we talking about here?”

“Well… I’ll leave you to think on that one,” Ryan parrots Dylan’s earlier words. 

“I’d prefer to act on it,” Dylan says before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Ryan’s mouth. Ryan tightens his grip on Dylan’s hand at the first touch of his mouth to his, tilting his head to get a better angle as he leans into the kiss. 

“I think I prefer that too,” Ryan says as they pull apart, getting a pleased smile from Dylan in response, which Ryan gestures to with a flick of his chin. “And just so you know…. you’re not the only one trying to get as many smiles as possible.”

“Oh, really? This becoming a competition, huh? See who can make the other smile the most?”

“Given you smile whenever we kiss, I don’t think it’s going to be much of a competition.”

“Well, I had to break it to you, Ryan, but…” Dylan dipped down to give Ryan a chaste kiss, pulling back to tap a finger to the corner of Ryan’s mouth, where a half-smile had formed. “I’m not the only one.”

“Hey, guys--” Ryan and Dylan startle at Max’s voice, so caught up in each other that they hadn’t noticed him making his way over to them. “Sorry to interrupt, but uh… You guys hear that too, right?”

Dylan and Ryan tilted their heads, listening out for whatever it was that Max was hearing. Sure enough, now that they were listening out for it… There was something. Something approaching the entrance to the camp. Something that sounded a lot like…

“Is that…?” Dylan begins to ask. “Is that a car?”

  * * *

  06:00 | AUGUST 23 - KAITLYN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

None of them had said a word. Both in the walk back to the car, and right now sat in it, driving back to camp. Or at least, that’s where she assumed Travis was driving them back to. Suppose it made sense that no one felt like talking, given the fact that they had just murdered a child. A feral one that turned into a ravenous beast every full moon, sure, but still… he was a child. Just a little boy that had gone from living in a cage to having to survive by himself out in the wild. No home. No family. Just himself and the entire stretch of the east coast to scramble around for survival. 

It wasn’t like they had any other choice… right? Like Travis had said, if they didn’t stop Silas, then… then it would just start back up all over again. Someone new to be mauled, or even to be bit and turned, spreading the curse to them, who would then spread the curse to someone else, and so on and so forth until… Until it all got way out of hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Travis said out of nowhere, taking both girls by surprise. “I want you to know that. I know my apologies probably don’t mean jack-shit to either one of you, but I still want you to have them.”

“Um… Okay?” Laura didn’t really know how else to respond to that. 

“It was never meant to get this far. You know, you spend your whole life convinced that there’s nothing more important than your family. Nothing. That you’d do anything for ‘em, you know? But you don’t… you don’t realize how that kind of devotion and loyalty, the very things they praise you for, end up blinding you from reality. Makes you think that… that the messed up shit you’re doing is reasonable. That it’s okay because… because it means you’re keeping your family safe. 

“Every damn day I’d come into work and stare at those missing person's posters, and I’d know exactly where those people were. I’d look at them, and I’d see the chains and cinder blocks I tied to their feet as I shoved them into the lake. And I’m a… I’m a police officer--” Travis slammed his open palm down on the edge of the steering wheel. “I’m a goddamn sheriff. I took an oath to protect the law. To protect the people. And I’m fucking stood there with you and your boy locked away in those cells and just hoping that passion of yours for veterinary sciences might just be of use because otherwise my family’s gonna find out about you and… and they’re gonna ask me to ‘dispose’ of you too.”

“Well… Guess it’s lucky I ended up being useful then…” said Laura. 

Travis shook his head, but not in disagreement with Laura’s statement. “You and Max… All you kids… You were innocent in all this. Dragged into my family’s shit, and were made to suffer for it. I guess… I’m not surprised it ended this way. My family’s situation had been a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. I just never figured the ignition would be a bunch of counselors both showing up too early and staying longer than they should have…”

“Technically, not our fault,” Kaitlyn said. “Mini-van was broken. Wasn’t our choice to stay.”

“And…yeah, okay, I guess it was my fault me and Max showed up a day early. But I wasn’t exactly expecting the owners of a summer camp for little kids to be run by goddamn werewolves--”

“I know, I know,” Travis off Laura’s incoming rant with a tired-sounding sigh. “I’m not blaming you -- none of you kids. I might not have been the one to start this, or to succumb to the same curse as my brother and his children, but… I’m far from an innocent party either. I guess what I’m trying to say is this is me trying to make amends. Or… starting to anyway. I know chances are that I never can, but I’ll still try. And it starts with me getting you kids the hell out of this place and clearing your names.”

“Okay, so… What’s the plan?” Kaitlyn asks. “I assume first thing first is to get back to camp and… and see who made it…”

“If they’re smart, they’ll have headed to the lodge. Preferably the storm shelter.”

“You mean the storm shelter Max got bit in?” Laura asks, sarcasm seeping into her voice. 

“You broke in,” Travis said firmly. “Thankfully, werewolves aren’t smart enough to figure out how to do that. If they hid down there and stayed quiet? They’d be perfectly safe.”

“Uh… I know that for a few of my fellow counselors, ‘staying quiet’ isn’t their forte,” Kaitlyn says. “But… given everything that’s gone on tonight, I’m sure they’d be smart enough to keep their voices down…”

“Well, we’ll find out just how smart they are once we get back,” said Travis. “We’ll check the lodge first, then from there--”

“I’m going to the island,” Laura claimed — not at all a surprise to either Travis or Kaitlyn. “Max is probably freaked out by now… I’ve been gone way longer than I should have been.”

“Alright, you can go looking for Max,” Travis agrees. Laura looked seconds away from arguing over the ‘can’, as if Travis was giving her permission that she certainly didn’t need, but he carried on talking before she could get a word — or complaint — out. “While you’re doing that, we’ll check out other areas your friends might be taking shelter in. If there’s still people missing, then we comb out and search the surrounding woodlands. But… But you should probably prepare yourself in case--”

“I know,” Kaitlyn cut Travis off, not wanting to hear him finish the rest of that sentence. “Believe me, I’ve been preparing myself for that since Abi came screaming out of the woods after Nick had nearly been ripped apart.”

“Right…” Travis mumbled, his grip around the steering wheel tightening. 

It wasn’t too long after their conversation that Travis was turning off the main road and onto Hackett property. Kaitlyn glanced out of the side window to see the sign welcoming them to Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp pass, the car already beginning to slow as they approach the lodge. 

“Oh my God--” Laura’s exclamation brought Kaitlyn’s attention away from the side window, shifting over to the middle seat to get a better look out of the front — and to whatever it was that had caught Laura’s attention. 

Instead of adrenaline flowing through her veins, this time it was relief. There were three people standing on the balcony of the lodge, one she didn’t recognize. But the other two… She’d probably have to be dead to forget about them. 

Travis hadn’t even brought the car to a full stop before Laura had thrown open the car door and jumped out of the car. To be fair, Kaitlyn barely waited for him to pull up the handbrake before she too hurried out of the car. 

“Max!

“Laura!” Max was already halfway down the stairs leading up the lodge, practically leaping down them in his rush. Laura hadn’t even made it a few paces away from the car before Max was there, colliding with her and wrapping her up tight. Kaitlyn couldn’t help but smile at their reunion, one hand on the open door of the car as she watched them. 

“I was so worried, I thought maybe--” Max began to say, reaching up a hand to gently caress the side of her face. “And your eye. Your eye is back, you--”

“I’m okay,” Laura reassured him, smiling warmly up at Max. It was perhaps the happiest Kaitlyn had seen Laura all night. Laura’s eyes dropped down to take in Max’s attire, warm smile turning very much amused at the legging/crop top/hoodie combo. “…What are you wearing?”

“Um, it’s called fashion, sweetie.” Max’s sarcastic delivery got a quiet chuckle from Laura as she shook her head at his antics.

“Are they my clothes?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda all I had available.”

Movement out of the corner of her eye tore Kaitlyn’s attention away from the reuniting couple and to who she could only assume was another couple now given that Dylan and Ryan were headed her way, walking very close to each other. Like seriously, it was a miracle they weren’t tripping over each other’s feet. 

“So, you two idiots managed to survi--” Was all Kaitlyn could get out before her breath was squeezed out of her by both Dylan and Ryan hugging her from each side, coming dangerously close to either choking her out or cracking her ribcage. “Yep, okay, good to see you guys too but I can’t breathe,” she managed to squeak out, which got Dylan and Ryan to let go of her in a hurry. 

“Shit, sorry.” Ryan was the first to apologize.

“Yeah, didn’t mean to like… break a rib or something,” Dylan said. 

“Nah, I’m fine,” Kaitlyn waved them off, softly closing the car door before placing a hand to her side. “Think there might be some leftover soreness from where I was stabbed…”

“From where you were…?” Dylan's eyes widened as they dropped down to Kaitlyn’s side, taking in the large amount of blood soaked into her clothes. “Holy fuck, shit, we should--”

“I’m not stabbed anymore!” Kaitlyn rushed to reassure Dylan before he could go into full-on panic mode. “Werewolf healing took care of that.”

“...Come again?” Ryan asked. 

“Also not a werewolf anymore. Or… never really was, I guess. I mean, I was bit, but I never turned.”

“...What?” Both Dylan and Ryan asked at the exact same time. 

Kaitlyn sighed. “One of Mr. H’s brothers decided to shove a knife into my ribs. Laura and I quickly realized that the only way I was going to survive it was through werewolf healing, so… she offered to bite me.” 

“Kinky,” Dylan commented, getting a roll of the eyes from Kaitlyn. 

“We uh… We also found Mr. H,” Kaitlyn said, turning her apologetic gaze to Ryan. “I’m sorry, Ryan. There wasn’t much of a choice for me to make. He was coming at me and… I had to shoot.”

Ryan just nodded, eyes cast to the ground. “I figured, you know. Since…” Ryan gestures over to where Max was, still holding onto Laura like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let her go. 

“Dude's been worried sick about her,” Dylan comments. “And… we were getting pretty fucking scared when you guys didn’t show up. What exactly took you guys so long? I’m assuming it’s something to do with the fact that you showed up in a car driven by a cop who I’ve kinda been dying to ask about the moment you arrived, especially coz’ he’s still just sort of… sitting there.”

Kaitlyn looked behind her and past the windshield to where Travis was, as Dylan said, still just sitting in the car. From here it looked like he was talking into his shoulder, but Kaitlyn knew that just under the hand he had to his shoulder was his police radio. 

“I’ll explain everything later. I imagine I’ll have to tell it a hundred times over anyway when the cops arrive anyway…” Kaitlyn says, getting nods of agreement from Dylan and Ryan. “So… I’m guessing you guys are… together now?”

Ryan and Dylan glance at one another in surprise, mouths opening and closing repeatedly as they scramble for something to say. “Um… What makes you think that?” Ryan finally manages to ask. 

Kaitlyn smirks, pointing to the side of his neck. “You got a hickey on your neck.”

Ryan’s eyes go wide, hand flying up to cover where Kaitlyn had pointed out so fast that there was a slap of skin against skin. Kaitlyn began to laugh as Dylan’s face slowly shifted through different shades of red, still unable to think of anything to say. 

“I’m just kidding, you don’t have a hickey,” Kaitlyn put them out of their misery. Ryan dropped his hand with a huff. “But thank you for confirming it for me.”

“Alright, that was a good one,” Dylan had to admit, able to smile through the embarrassment. “Even if you are evil incarnate.”

“Glad to see you two finally figured it out,” Kaitlyn says, giving the two of them a light shove. “Seriously, I’m happy for you guys. I mean that. And Ryan?”

“Uh… yeah?” Ryan nervously replied. 

“So you know, just because I thought you were hot doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to kill you if you ever hurt Dylan. And I mean that, as well.”

“Jesus, Kaitlyn…” exclaimed Dylan. “I, uh… didn’t know I had so much of an impact on you for you to… offer to murder someone on my behalf?” 

“Potentially. So long as Ryan doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” Ryan says with so much conviction in his voice that Kaitlyn can’t help but believe him. 

“Good,” Kaitlyn says with a friendly pat on Ryan’s shoulder. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“This has been the weirdest night of my life…” Ryan mumbled as Kaitlyn’s hand slid away from his shoulder. 

“You’re telling me,” Kaitlyn huffed. “Honestly Dylan, I’m surprised you’re still standing right now.”

“So am I,” Dylan retorted. “We found some more painkillers in Mr. H’s bathroom, so they’re doing most of the heavy lifting right now. But that’s not to say I won’t fall flat on my face any second now that the adrenaline’s worn off.”

“I’ll catch you if you do,” Ryan promised, getting a pleased little smile from Dylan in response.

”Okay, I know I said I’m happy for you guys, but ew, can you not with the sappiness?” Kaitlyn all but pleaded. “And from you, Ryan? Jesus, I really didn’t need to threaten you, did I…”

“Kaitlyn?” 

Kaitlyn looked over to her side, surprised to see it was Max saying her name. She couldn’t even get out a response before she found herself being wrapped up in one of Max’s bear hugs, a little too shocked to respond, or even know how she should respond. 

“Jesus, Max, at least ask first,” Laura reprimanded him. “Consent and all that.”

“It’s… fine?” Kaitlyn said, bringing up her arms to awkwardly pat Max on the back. 

“Sorry, just wanted to… show my gratitude I guess,” Max said as he pulled away. “From what Laura told me, we both owe our thanks to you. You broke our curse. You helped bring her back to me. I won’t ever forget that.”

“We, uh… We saved each other tonight,” Kaitlyn said, nodding her head at Laura, who sheepishly smiled back. “And… you kinda saved me by proxy too I guess, since you were the one to bite Laura.”

“That’s… One way to look at it, I guess…” Max pondered. 

“Kaitlyn!”

The screech of her name brought all their attention towards the direction of the lodge, greeted by the sight of everyone piling out onto the balcony. Abi was front and center, having been the first to see her — and yell out her name — pausing for a moment to wave jovially down at her before everyone was scurrying down the stairs.

“Uh oh, prepare your ribs, Kaitlyn,” Dylan warned her, already turning towards the others. “Make way for group hug two-point-oh.”

“‘Two-point-oh’? When was the first--” Kaitlyn doesn’t get to finish her sentence before being engulfed, the pressure all around her making her realize that maybe she should have heeded Dylan’s warning. 

Everyone held onto each other, Jacob wisely choosing to be in the part of the group hug that was as far away from Ryan as possible, not quite ready to test his boundaries just yet… Dylan peeked his head out of the hug to look over to where Max and Laura were standing, gesturing to the pile with a flick of his head. “You guys are counselors too, you know. You’re more than welcome to join.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at the display in front of her. “Uh, I don’t think--”

“Sweet, I’ll take a group hug,” Max decided for them, grabbing hold of Laura’s arm and tugging her with him into the hug, easily slotting in with the others. 

It’s as they were beginning to separate that Travis steps out of the car, the sound of the car door slamming closed behind him forcing their gaze over to him. Max nervously glanced between the sheriff and Laura, unsure whether to be pleased to see him for, well, being part of helping keep Laura alive, or whether to still be pissed. Which is why perhaps he resorts to making a joke that would break the tension somewhat, holding out a hand as if to invite Travis into the hug. “T-Money--”

“Absolutely not.” Travis shut that down very quickly, looking rather unimpressed as his gaze slides over all of them. “Is this everyone? Every counselor accounted for?”

“Somehow, yes,” Kaitlyn says. 

Travis nods, some of the tension in his posture relaxing at the news. “Okay, uh… good. That’s good. Now, I want you kids to get back into the lodge and stay there, alright? It won’t be long before backup arrives to take care of you guys.”

“Um, no offense, sir—” Emma said, hand held up as she spoke. “—But hearing ‘take care of you guys’ from a cop makes it sound like you’re going to take us out back and like… put a bullet in our heads or something.”

“What? No, that’s—” Travis sighed deeply, wiping a hand across his face. “I’m not going to lie to you kids, there’s going to be a lot of questions they’ll want answered. Now, I’ll do my best to answer them for you, but they’re still going to want to hear from you guys, okay? Not even I have the power to just… get you off the hook. But I’ll do what I can to ensure you all get home. That… That they see you’re all innocent in this.”

“...Even if it means putting your head on the chopping block?” Laura asks. 

Travis looks over to her, eyes solemn as he slowly nods his head. “Even if it means putting my head on the chopping block,” he repeats quietly. “My family’s mess is my mess too. You guys should never have been dragged into it. And you sure as hell shouldn’t have to be the ones to help me clear it up.”

Everyone remained quiet, all still huddled together as they looked at Travis. Travis sighed quietly, looking down to the floor before forcing his gaze back up. “There, uh… There shouldn’t be anything left that’ll be a danger to you guys anymore, but for safety's sake, you all should stay together in the lodge. Keep an eye out for each other whilst I go and search for my nephew out there–"

“You’re Chris’s brother, right?” Ryan speaks up. Travis raises an eyebrow at the unexpected interruption, but nods his head in response to the question. “Caleb’s uncle?” Ryan adds on. 

“Have you seen him?” Travis asks, something akin to hope daring to catch light in his eyes. But that hope is quickly doused by the sorrowful emptiness reflected back at him from Ryan’s, already knowing what was coming next before Ryan even said it. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says, swallowing harshly past the lump in his throat. “He forced his way in, and… and I had to…”

Travis’s shoulder slumped, posture deflating as he sank in on himself. His head dropped down, eyes sliding shut as he shook his head side to side. “Goddammit… Fuck! We were… We were so damn close… Curse is over and for fucking what, I…” Travis looked back up, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stared blankly past the counselors and out into the forest. “Where… Where is he?”

“In the lodge,” Ryan answered softly, looking unsure as to whether the sheriff would start to direct his anger at him. Kaitlyn could tell from Dylan’s protective grip around Ryan’s shoulders that he wouldn’t be alone in the fight if he did. 

“You… You did what you had to. I get that,” Travis muttered, allowing them to relax somewhat. “I uh… I just… Need a minute to…” Travis got out in a daze, dejectedly making his way toward the lodge. They all watched him go, no one daring to speak a word before he was through the doors and out of earshot. 

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I actually feel kind of bad for him,” Laura admits, the first of them to break the silence. “His mom, dad, brothers, nieces, and nephews… All gone in one night. He’s the only Hackett left.”

“Jesus Christ…” Ryan muttered. Dylan’s protective grip turned into a comforting one, pulling Ryan further into his side. 

“Could we… Maybe focus on the positives and not… that?” Nick asked, accent as thick as usual and Kaitlyn was delighted to see completely normal ‘Nick’ eyes glancing between the group and not the bloodshot, yellow ones she had last seen of him. 

“I think I can do that, given last time I saw you, you were…” Kaitlyn trailed off, looking Nick up and down. 

Nick managed the tiniest of smiles. “Yeah… Not exactly myself. I, um… I’m sorry for… telling you to fuck off…”

“You were part way through transforming into a werewolf. You’ve got a pretty good excuse,” Kaitlyn replied in one of the weirdest ways of accepting someone's apology. “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”

Nick shot her a tired-looking smile. “Right back at you.”

Kaitlyn moved her gaze over to Jacob. “So… You found your way back then?”

“Just about. Picked up this straggler on the way.” Jacob ruffled at Nick’s hair, who didn’t look much pleased with the display of ‘affection’. 

“Knock it off, man--” Nick grumbled, swatting Jacob’s bear paws away.

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes at the display of… whatever it is that boys do to show they care about each other, apparently. “Well, I’m glad to see you decided not to try and be a hero or an idiot,” she said, calling back to their earlier conversation by the cages. Ryan very much looked like he wanted to say something about that, but Dylan’s gentle squeeze around his shoulders kept him quiet. 

“It’s amazing we’re all still alive…” Abi said, sounding genuinely amazed by her realization. 

“Yeah… Anyone else get the feeling it could have gone a lot worse?” Emma asks.

“For sure,” Dylan agreed. “I could have lost both hands.”

Ryan looked up at Dylan, completely baffled. “How… would that even happen?”

“I dunno. I get bit, you cut off my hand, and then another werewolf bites my other hand, and you have to amputate that one too,” Dylan explains like it was obvious.

“That’d be some bad luck,” Max comments. 

“Those traps I kept stepping into could have really fucked me up,” Jacob threw in his own woes. 

“If Kaitlyn hadn’t stopped me, I could have shot whoever was in that cage,” Laura offers. 

“Yeah, that was Nick,” Jacob informs her.

Nick blinks in surprise. “Wait, what--”

“I could have fucked up using the crane and got Ryan bit,” Dylan says. 

“Crane--?” Kaitlyn tries to say, but is cut off by Emma.

“Max could have eaten me in the tree house. And not in the good way.”

It’s not much of a surprise that everyone falls silent after that one. 

“What… the hell are we doing?” Kaitlyn asks.

“Processing our trauma, if I were to guess,” Dylan answers with a shrug of his shoulders.

“There’s a part of me that still can’t quite believe it’s really over,” said Ryan. “This whole night… This whole nightmare… It’s finally over.”

The shrill of sirens pierces through the air, breaking the momentary peace of the morning. They were quiet, but steadily getting louder and louder as who they could only assume were more cops headed their way down to Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp, and to the massacre that awaited them. 

“Well… that nightmare’s over…” Kaitlyn said. Just through the trees, she could see the flashing red, white, and blue lights, something that would have brought them comfort to see earlier tonight now bringing a sense of dread. “…And now a new one begins…”

[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.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part III

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of feelings, handcuffs, testosterone, quite a bit of sex, one surprise kiss (cause Erwin is a privileged dick), parents, domesticity A/N: I apparently did not write an author’s note for this originally, but uh, this is one of my favorite sections of the whole fic, so. 

Mike uses the rest of the break to relax, to get his head on straight so that when he gets back on campus he won’t be overbearing. He knows that’s the last thing you want from him.

 You text back and forth a few times a day, but most of it is dumb shit, and the conversation dies off pretty quickly—either Mike not knowing how to respond or you just growing bored. 

 He busies himself by spending time with his parents and playing with Scout who eats up all the attention. Family comes over for Christmas, and his mom and aunt get into an argument. It’s nothing new.

 He’s happy to get back to the school and back in classes just to stimulate his brain. More than that, he’s happy to see you again. Even if it means the two of you go back to friend-only status. 

 Things are awkward between him and Erwin, though. It isn’t the first time they’ve had a hiccup in their friendship, but this one has really rubbed Mike the wrong way. Erwin tries to apologize a few more times, but every time he does, all Mike can manage is an unconvincing, “It’s fine,” which the other man obviously doesn’t buy. 

 He tries not to be possessive when you start coming to the house again, but it’s fucking hard whenever he has to watch you and Erwin talk and joke around. Mike figured you’d be at least a little annoyed that he’d just walked in on the two of you like that, but you act like it never happened.

 Eventually, Mike has to ask about it, just can’t help himself. “Aren’t you, like, even a little mad that he did that? Don’t you think it was fucked up?”

 You’re sitting on Mike’s bed, a controller in your hand as you play Mario Kart, sound a little distracted when you respond, “I mean, yeah, it was fucked up, but I never really expected anything more from him.”

 “What do you mean?”

 You look at him from the corner of your eyes before staring at the screen again. “Erwin is a cocky motherfucker. I’ve seen the way he gets the girls on campus, probably thinks he can charm all of them which means he probably thinks he’s entitled to all of them. Us.”

 “Are you calling him a predator?”

 You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think he’d ever, like, rape anyone. He at least has enough class and common sense not to do that. But I think… He doesn’t care who he goes after. Single girls, girls in relationships, happy girls, damaged girls. He just has a one track mind when it comes to sex. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway.”

 Laying back on his bed, Mike laces his fingers behind his head and thinks on what you’ve said. “That just sounds like a drawn out way of saying he’s a flirt.”

 “A massive flirt. Without any real care about whose feelings he hurts in the process.”

 “Sounds about right.”

 “I don’t appreciate it,” you sigh, “But he’s your best friend, so I’m willing to put up with some shit from him.”

 “Even him perving on you?”

 “Not the first time it’s happened to me, probably won’t be the last. He’s curious, I can tell.”

 Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

 You stay quiet for several seconds, toggling over to another track on the game, then ask, “That make you uncomfortable?”

 Blinking up at the ceiling, Mike wonders what the right answer to this is. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he doubts he’ll be able to act as aloof as you do. 

 “A little.”

 You hum, nodding in a thoughtful manner before suggesting, “I think we can keep hooking up through this semester.”

 Mike sits up on his elbow, looks at you with high eyebrows. “Wait, really?” He sounds too excited, he knows.

 “Yeah. I have mostly easy classes, or really, I have interesting ones which makes studying for them easier. Plus, it might teach Erwin a lesson.”

 He falls back flat, scoffing. “I don’t want you to fuck me to prove a point to Erwin. I want you to fuck me because you want to.”

 The game music stops when you pause it, and then you’re straddling Mike, hands on his chest as you smirk at him. 

 “Don’t let this go to your head, Zacharias, but no one has ever fucked me the way you do.”

 Mike tries not to grin, triumph blooming inside of him, and he grips your hips a little too tightly. “Oh, that’s definitely going to my head.” 

 You grind your covered pussy over his denim-clad cock, and Mike feels all his blood flow south.

 Laughing, you lean down to ghost your lips over his and murmur, “Both heads, apparently.”

 That day, the two of you start a routine that leaves Mike falling harder and harder with every passing day.

 *

 “Come on, please just be my date,” Mike begs, thinks about getting to his knees if it’ll help convince you.

 “Why?” You ask, looking up from your textbook.

 You and Mike are sitting in the library—you studying, him bothering you. “I’m honestly so tired of parties at this point.

 “It’s not like the big parties we throw, though,” he tells you. “It’s just the brothers and their girlfriends.”

 “That makes it even worse,” you push one little laugh through your nose. “What makes you think I wanna spend an entire night with a bunch of frat boys and their matching sorority girls?”

 Mike rolls his eyes. “They’re not all sorority girls, just like, eighty-five percent of them.”

 Your head lolls, an expression that reads nothing but apathy aimed at Mike, and he gives you a hopeful smile and adds, “On the bright side, we get to stay together all night…?”

 “Oh god, it's a cuff party, isn't it?" 

 All he can do at this point is beg because the more he explains it, the more he realizes how not appealing this is to you. “Please.”

 Sitting back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest and puff your cheeks out as you exhale heavily. “What’s in it for me?”

 Fuck yes. Half the battle is won. 

 “Uhh,” obviously sex is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, so the first offer he makes is, “I’ll go down on you ‘til you cry.”

 You snort. “Try again.”

 “Fuck you ‘til you pass out?”

 “Jesus—why do you want to hurt me? Try again. Third time’s a charm.”

 Mike brainstorms for a solid thirty seconds, thinks about what you’ve mentioned to him over the past couple of weeks, sex and school and—

 “I’ll help you study for your geochemistry exam.”

 You finally look interested. “I’d actually really appreciate that. You took the course?”

 “Yeah, environmental geochemistry was sort of my jam last year. Final grade was a ninety-seven.”

 “Holy shit.”

 Mike shoots you a satisfied smile, but before you can tell him to wipe it from his face, he asks, “So, you’re in?”

 “I guess.”

 This is how you both end up in the frat house handcuffed together. No one seems to be surprised at the fact that you’ve come with him, all the brothers used to you hanging around the frat house.

 Most couples are walking around holding hands just because it takes some of the pressure off of everyone's wrists, but Mike doesn't dare try it with you. Too cute. Too comfortable. 

 These types of get togethers are Mike's favorite, though, always more relaxed than the open parties. There’s still drinking and music, but the energy is different since it’s a tighter knit group. 

 It takes about an hour for Erwin and his date to approach the two of you, fingers laced together, drinks in their free hands. 

 “Looking good,” Erwin greets with a smile. "Very… trapped." 

 “Yeah, you too,” Mike says, trying to ignore the subtext of Erwin's comment.  

 Blue eyes flick to you, and you’re questioned, “How’d he end up talking you into this?”

 You don’t miss a beat as you reply cooly, “Bribed me with sex and study help.”

 “Ah, of course he did.”

 Mike’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches his pinky out to link with yours, a subtle claim. When you rest your head on his arm, he looks down at you and smirks. 

 “Anyway,” Erwin pushes on. “You remember Maddie, don’t you?”

 Mike lies, “Yeah. How are you?”

 The girl’s voice reminds him of who she is, “Well. How are you, Mike?” It’s a little high pitched and nasally with a northern accent. He especially remembers what she sounded like moaning for Erwin through the wall, obnoxious but Mike can’t really judge since he’s subjected the rest of the house to the same thing once or twice (or a dozen times) before.  

 “Glad to hear it.”

 The group stands together for a few more awkward seconds before Erwin clears his throat and asks his date, “Another drink?” then makes his exit. 

 “You have got to get over this grudge, dude,” you take your head from his shoulder, and Mike immediately misses the warmth. “Like, it’s cute that you’re trying to defend my honor or whatever, but it’s time to move on. You guys are friends. Just talk it out.”

 He sucks his teeth, almost tells you about the way he and Erwin had nearly thrown punches at the ranch house, the way the blond had basically admitted to wanting to try you out, but Mike decides against it, doesn’t want to talk too much shit only to end up making up with him.

 “Guys don’t really talk it out. We usually fight it out.”

 “That’s fucking primitive. You should learn to communicate like mature humans.”

 “Probably,” Mike hums. “But not right now.”

 Being connected to each other means every activity is a partner activity. The most interesting is playing beer pong against Nile and his on-again off-again girlfriend, Marie, house rule for the night being whoever is throwing has to use their cuffed hand. It’s like a twisted three-legged race and requires an amount of teamwork and coordination Mike has never had to deal with before. 

 It’s also the first time he manages to beat Nile. Mike had no doubt that the other man would have crushed you by himself, but it turns out the actual couple does not work together very well. All their shots are clumsy, and Nile gets frustrated right off the bat which only makes things worse. Meanwhile, you and Mike come up with a strategy after the first terrible throw and use it for the rest of the game. 

 You’re both challenged by a few other teams and end up winning every time which has Mike feeling smug about the victories and giddy at how in-tune the two of you are. Gelgar even tells you both, “You guys are good together,” which makes Mike cough as you wave him off.

 You drink a little more, converse a little more, and then—as always—end up in Mike’s bedroom. 

 “You want me to get the key and take these off?” He asks between kisses.

 You smile into him, let out a little laugh and play, “You don’t think it’d be kinda fun to fuck with ‘em on?”

 “It’ll be harder,” Mike snorts. “But, we can. Won’t be able to take shirts off, though.”

 “Good thing we just need to take our pants off.”

 It’s clumsy and silly, and you both tug in opposite directions more than a few times. Mike laces his fingers with yours when he goes down on you, relishing in the way you arch off his bed and squeeze his hand. On the floor, you give him head in the same fashion, and fuck, Mike can hardly focus on you sucking him off while your fingers are woven together, even if it is just for the sake of convenience. 

 He fucks you from behind that night, your face buried in his pillow as he’s buried in you. Both of your arms are stretched behind your back, held at the wrists by Mike’s much, much larger hand. He uses his free one to grip your hip, pushing and pulling you on his cock to his heart’s desire. 

 You’re so pretty, damp with sweat and moaning his name when your head is turned only to shove it back into his pillow when he makes you scream. Your dripping cunt opens up for him perfectly, making Mike feel more inebriated than alcohol ever could, but as his balls tighten and that warmth spreads in his gut, he has a single moment of clarity, assess the position he has you in and pants, “Shit, I can’t pull out.” Not without ripping your god damn arm out of socket or fracturing his dick. 

 “Mmm—fuck, just come inside, come inside me, Mike.”

 That alone makes him lose it, shooting a fucking copious amount of cum into your pussy, so much that it drips from your hole and runs down your thighs. 

 “Fucking C-Christ,” he laughs a little hysterically, gathering thick white and slipping it back inside you. Transfixed by the way his added finger pushes more of his cum out of you, he asks in a daze, “You on birth control?”

 “Yeah,” you answer in a breathy voice.

 Mike hums. “Good. Just gonna sit here for a while then.”

 You let out a whimper that turns to a whine when he rubs his slick finger over your clit. Twitching around him, you tease, “F-finger painting again?”

 He chuckles, “You know it.” 

 Honestly, if he could cover you in cum, he would—admire your body painted in white strings, watch it drip down your ribs and thighs. If Mike hadn’t just gotten off, he would be hard again at the mere thought, but for now his focus is rubbing your little clit. Still face down, you spread your legs more and more, and Mike has to curl over you, breathing heavily on your neck as you wriggle and buck, overstimulating him as he keeps his cock nestled inside of you.

 He groans just as loud as you do as you start pulsing around him, pussy clenching in a way that actually pulls a few more drops of cum from Mike, then you both pant for a little while until Mike straightens up and pulls you with him, your back to his chest as you hang your head. 

 “You good?” He questions, brushing his lips over your neck as lightly as possible.

 “Yeah,” you tell him. “Just… Full.”

 Mike’s body heats all over again as he rests his forehead on your uppermost vertebrae. “Can’t just say stuff like that,” he warns, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

 “Hmm.” He can see the little smile on your face without even looking up. “You did offer to fuck me until I pass out.”

 “I have a refractory period, you know.”

 You glance over your shoulder, and now Mike gets a good look at your smirk and twinkling eyes. “I can wait.”

 Both of you emerge from the room in the early hours of the morning, still stuck together as you quietly make your way downstairs to find the key to the handcuffs. You’re wearing a pair of Mike’s gym shorts, the mesh falling far past your knees and barely staying up around your waist. He knows you’re still messy and can tell by the way you’re walking that you’re sore, but he has every intention of cleaning you up and taking care of all your aches and pains in the shower. 

 *

It’s party after god damn party with classes and studying and fucking in between. You have never had this much sex in your life, but you’re not complaining. It takes the edge off, and Mike isn’t the worst company. Far from it, actually. The more you get to know him, the more he falls into what you think is his real personality. 

 The brash frat boy is a front, you come to find out, a mask to fit in with everyone else, one he wears very well. 

 But, when it’s just the two of you in his room playing video games or watching TV, he actually relaxes, gets quieter and much more reflective. The pastels and khakis and Hawaiian shirts stay hung up in his closet, both of you lounging in t-shirts and joggers more often than not.

 He more or less tutors you in geochemistry, and between that and all the nerd shit in his room, you realize… Mike is kind of extremely smart. And, it’s kind of extremely hot.

 “I still don’t understand why you hide it,” you tell him one afternoon as you watch him play Ocarina of Time. 

 He shrugs, green eyes wide and focused on the screen, gives you the same answer he did last semester when you’d asked a similar question: “People are more interested in other things.”

 “So you adopted the obnoxious frat boy persona?”

 “I guess. It makes the college experience a lot easier.”

 You cock your head to the side, genuinely curious when you ask, “Doesn’t it wear you out? Seems like you’re just an introvert in hiding.”

 Mike laughs, pauses the game, and looks at you. “It used to. Some days it still does. But, it’s easier than taking shit from the guys.”

 Squinting at him, you mumble, “I will beat up anyone who gives you shit about being a nerd.”

 It makes him laugh. Loudly. And, you see a certain curiosity glimmering in his eyes, unasked questions—probably something along the lines of when you started caring and getting protective over him. 

 You’re not. Not exactly. You just don’t like the idea of anyone giving him a hard time. 

 “No offense, babe, but I don’t know how much damage you could inflict on anyone. You’re, like, two feet tall.”

 You straighten up, chest puffing up as you pull your fists up to your chin and rock back and forth like a Street Fighter character. “You wanna fuckin’ go, Zacharias? I’ll show you how much damage I can inflict.”

 He grins in that boyish way that always makes you look away. It’s too cute and too charming and makes you feel too many things. 

 Mike hangs his long legs over the side of the bed and pulls you on top of him with no problem whatsoever. You’re eye level with him now, heart beating too fast as you hold his shoulders, eyes flicking to his lips. 

 “We can go if you want. We can do whatever you want.”

 He has feelings for you. You know he does, can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the way he fucks you, and you really should cut things off, but… You don’t want to. He’s the most tolerable person you’ve met on campus, much less annoying than Hitch. You have things in common and joke around until you’re both rolling in laughter. And, of course, the sex is incredible. 

 It’s just casual, you keep telling yourself. Mike is smart enough not to push things. He knows better, knows you’ll just turn him down, and though it’s hard to admit, that wouldn’t just hurt him; it’d hurt you too.

 In his lap now, you don’t encourage him to take things further, mostly because you’re still sore from the night before, and he understands that. Instead, you lock your arms around his neck and change the subject to something that’s still bothering you even after several weeks.

 “Have you and Erwin made up yet?”

 Mike makes a face, answers, “Not exactly.”

 “The hell does that mean?”

 “It means we’re talking a little more, but it’s always short conversations and the problem still hasn’t been addressed.”

 You let out a little, “Ugh,” then state, “You guys are impossible.”

 It really doesn’t make sense that he’s so upset about it, especially since you’ve gotten over it. It was a shitty thing for Erwin to do—walking in like that—but you don’t think it’s anything to end a friendship over.

 And, with that thought in mind, you spend the rest of the afternoon devising a plan. It’s not in your nature to meddle, but it seems, in this case, you’re gonna have to.

 *

 Mike is in his fancy ecology class when you walk into the Pike house, nodding at everyone in the den as you step further inside. You learned a few months ago that it’s much safer to keep your shoes on, less jarring to step on a sticky floor the first years didn’t do a good job cleaning. 

 Nile is reclining sideways on the couch with Marie between his legs, an action movie playing on the ridiculously big TV mounted on the wall. 

 “Is Erwin here?” You ask.

 Nile looks at you with a frown, one that’s completely warranted since you’ve literally never asked this before. 

 “Uh, yeah.” He points up at the ceiling. “In his room.”

 “Cool, thanks.”

 “You know which one it is?”

 Squeezing one eye shut, you’re honest when you tell him, “I think so.”

 The way Marie is quick to pipe up, “Second furthest to the left, right next to the bathroom,” is very amusing, especially when Nile clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

 You make your way upstairs, following Marie’s directions, then take a deep breath before knocking on Erwin’s door, clueless as to what his lock code might be.

 It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Erwin. His eyes widen a bit when he sees you, craning his neck back like he’s shocked that you’re standing outside of his room. That’s fair.

 “Uh, hey?”

 “Hey,” you greet shortly. “Can we talk for a sec?”

 Erwin blinks a few times then steps to the side, murmuring, “Yeah, of course.”

 His space is very different from Mike’s, more organized, framed pictures, bed completely made. Even his desk is clean, papers and books all stacked neatly on one side of his open laptop.

 “Studying?” You question.

 “Yeah. Would you like to sit down?” His voice is deep—not as deep as Mike’s—and always so proper, like he spent his childhood in country clubs (he did). 

 “Not really,” you answer without any hesitation.

 Unsurprisingly, Erwin leans against his desk instead of taking a seat himself, arms on either side, fingers hanging off the edge of the polished wood. It makes the muscles in his forearms become more prominent, veins popping against his skin. You have to give it to him, it’s a good move. 

 “So, what’s going on?”

 Running your tongue over your teeth, you recall what you planned to say—cut to the chase, stay firm, don’t get caught up in any of his tricks. 

 “You need to make up with Mike.”

 Erwin immediately snorts. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

 “Half-assed apologies aren’t gonna work, dude. Actually sit down with him and hash things out.”

 “Yeeeah,” he drawls. “That didn’t work very well the first time.”

 “Maybe try again? You guys are, like, best friends.”

 “Levi is my best friend,” Erwin corrects, “And, I’m pretty sure that you’re Mike’s at this point.”

 “Don’t say that.”

 “It’s true,” he smirks.

 You wave him off, getting back to your original point. “At the very least, you guys should make up just because you have to live in the same house.”

 Erwin crosses his arms over his chest, blue eyes deviating upward as if he’s thinking hard. You doubt he is.

 “So, you’re not mad about what happened?” He asks after a few seconds. 

 You're blunt when you respond, “It was a shitty thing to do. Wouldn’t advise trying it with anyone else, but honestly, I’m not super surprised you’d pull something like that.”

 His facial expression turns to one of true offense, blond eyebrows furrowing enough for a little wrinkle to form between them. “Excuse me?”

 You take a step toward him, almost jab a finger in his chest but resist. “No no no. You don’t get to be pissed. You’re the one who fucked up here. I’m just telling you the truth.”

 Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself off the desk, standing to his full height to loom over you. It’s obviously an intimidation tactic, one he’s probably used before on many people, and it makes your blood boil. 

 In a futile attempt to make yourself look bigger, you straighten your spine and tilt your head to look up at him, lips pursed, eyes narrow. You remember what Mike said about you being too small to hurt anyone, but you can be scrappy. You’re not above slapping a face or kneeing someone in the balls. 

 Erwin peers down at you, jaw setting for a moment as he really studies you, then breaks into an infuriating smile. 

 “You’re cute, you know that?” He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you swat his hand away. 

 “Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

 This close to him, seeing the way he acts behind closed doors, you wonder how Mike ever even got close with him. They’re so incredibly different. For the last semester and a half, you've only known Erwin as Mike's somewhat obnoxious, spoiled friend. Now, it seems he's showing his true colors.

 “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’m feeling pretty great right now.”

 Oh, you wanna hit him. You wanna hit him so badly, but honestly, Erwin kind of seems like the type to call the fucking police if you did. 

 “You don’t have any reason whatsoever to be feeling good.”

 He’s still grinning, eyes bright and wide as his pupils dilate. 

 Are you calling him a predator?

 He sure looks like one now, a lion with his sights set on an antelope, and as you stare at him, it dawns on you that this was a bad idea. 

 “You know what? Nevermind,” you shake your head. “You don’t deserve to be Mike’s friend anyway.”

 The laugh that pours from his lips is not at all humorous. His voice drops when he challenges, “You think so?”

 You need to leave, need to get out of here before this argument goes any further, but as you make a move toward the closed door, he slides in front of you. You shouldn’t have walked so far into his room.

 “Erwin,” you grit through your teeth. “Don’t do this.”

 “Just tell me—because I need to know—” he breathes, still staring down at you with that unnerving gaze. “What does Mike have that you like so much?”

 Both your hands flex by your sides. There are so many ways to answer this question, all of which will evoke a different response. 

 But being who you are, you speak before you think, spitting the first thing that comes to mind: "You want me to make you a list, Smith? 'Cause I sure fucking can."

 He makes a little circle with his hand, a 'go on' motion, and prompts, "Please, enlighten me."

 And, so you do. 

 "Warmth, sincerity, class, depth, understanding—"

 "So, it isn't just about the sex," he cuts you off, sounding more sure than curious. 

 You pinch the bridge of your nose, tired of these god damn frat boys and their obsession with getting their dicks wet.  

 "I mean, it started out that way—not that it's any of your business."

 "I can give you more, you know. Satisfy you better—"

 "Please shut the fuck up," you beg, getting madder by the second. The confidence, the entitlement, is making you sick. 

 "You don't believe me?" He steps toward you again, and you back up. 

 "No, I don't." Because how could he? Whether it's stimulating conversation or sex, there's no way Erwin could compare. 

 And now you realize just how much you appreciate Mike. 

 Erwin is closing the distance between you, moving slowly but purposefully. "This is how it started with you and him, right? You made him chase you?" 

 "Get out of my way," you demand, trying to shoulder past him—

 And, you should have seen it coming, should have been prepared for the way he grabs you, strong hand closing around your upper arm to pull you to his body. Thick fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back, face tilted up, and all you can really do is shove at his chest with your free hand, growling in your throat as Erwin crushes his lips against yours. 

 Adrenaline courses through your body. You try to shake the hand on your head, try to jerk your arm from his grip, but he's too fucking strong, and it terrifies you. 

 Your voice is muffled as you plead, "Er—mmf—shtp—"

 You lift your hand higher and manage to hit him just beside his eye with the side of your palm, and it makes him break the "kiss" (you refuse to actually call it that).

 He breathes a heavy, "Just let me—"

 "No." You push his chest again, and he lets go of your arm. Quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you tell him, "You're a shitty friend and a little fucked in the head, but you're not low enough to force yourself on someone," you pant, shaking with nerves and rage, "So don't."

 Hopefully, you're not giving him too much credit. Despite the overflowing fury and fear, you still think there's a little hope for him. Not with you, of course, just in general.

 He stares at you, expression changing from confusion to understanding to regret, and before you know it, he's scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering, "Fuck, I'm sorry. You're right I—I got carried away. I've been jealous of Mike and curious and—"

 "Why?" You blurt because you do not get it. "Both of you are, like, top athletes and in a fraternity, could get literally anyone you wanted, so what is it? Is it because I'm a nobody? Because you're bored of the sorority girls? Am I the one chick on your list you haven't screwed?" 

 "I… I don't know. You just—"

 "Is it because Mike has a toy he doesn't wanna share?"

 "Maybe." Erwin is frowning again, like he's stumped. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. It's honestly a little pathetic. 

 "Well, pick someone else. I know you have Maddie wrapped around your finger, so take advantage of that or whatever. Just leave me out of it."

 Ocean eyes are wide and troubled. He really does look remorseful, but that doesn't change what he just fucking did. God, you're disgusted. And a little hurt. 

 "Don't ever try that shit on me again—or anyone else—'cause I swear to God, I will break your fucking nose."

 "Yeah, okay," he nods.

 You go to walk past him again, voice loud and unforgiving when you tell him, "Move," and then you're out of his room, slamming the door, and getting as far from Pike house as possible.

 That did not go the way you had planned it to, but you should have been ready for the worst case scenario. That's on you, you guess. 

 Because Erwin Smith may not be a predator by definition, but he's certainly something—something you want to stay away from. 

*

"Why are you acting weird?" Mike's voice pulls you from your empty head, and you take your eyes off the loose string of your hoodie—his hoodie—and look up at him. 

 "What are you talking about? 'm not acting weird."

 He moves from his place at the edge of his bed and crawls to prop himself up next to you on his pillows. 

 "Uh, yeah you are. Have been for the past week or so."

 He isn't wrong. You've kept to yourself a little more since your "conversation" with Erwin. It had just been so uncomfortable and jarring, and you don't want to tell Mike because you know he'll just get pissed all over again which would be very annoying since he and Erwin finally made up. Just like you wanted them to. 

 Except now you know Erwin a little better, and you're not sure you want him having any more influence over Mike. 

 Rubbing your face, you shrug and easily lie, "I've just been tired."

 And, of course, Mike is too smart for that. 

 "Tired? That's the go-to answer for anyone who actually feels shitty."

 "I mean, yeah, but I'm actually tired in this case." It isn't a complete lie considering how fucking late he kept you up last night. 

 Mike hums. "Wanna take a nap before the party?" 

 The acid in your stomach churns. The party. The one you do not have any desire to go to. The one that will push you over the ledge of annoyance and into the realm of genuine discomfort. You don't want to go. You don't want to hang out. You don't want to see Erwin. 

 Sliding your legs under the covers, you lay down in Mike's bed, turning on your side so that your back is facing him. You've told him on numerous occasions that you don't have any interest in certain events, but he always talks you into going to them anyway. So, what'll be different this time? You're just gonna end up downstairs huddled in a corner refusing to drink as your eyes scan over everyone, ready to make a quick exit if you have to. 

 Mike settles in closer behind you, the heat of his chest pouring across your back, and you can feel the pillow dip when he rests his head on it. He waits for a while before letting his arm fall over your waist. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, makes something crawl into your throat, trying to scratch its way out. 

 "I really don't wanna go tonight," you murmur.

 You expect some form of protest, a convincing argument in the form of a well thought out fucking speech while he kisses down the back of your neck, but instead, a low rumble of, "Okay," spills from his mouth, and you hate how it makes you feel—how grateful you are for him. 

 He's getting to know you. Has gotten to know you after spending so much time together. He can read your ups and downs now, can tell when you're joking or serious, take the hint when you want him with a single look (that one might be the most irritating), but it just goes to show how perceptive he is, how much of himself he's been hiding while in college. 

 The shallow jock you thought you knew is no comparison for this. 

 "Spring break's coming up," he speaks into your hair, inhaling deeply and whispering to himself, "Citrus kills me," like you can't hear him. 

 You pretend not to because it's soft and personal and would probably make him adorably self-conscious, and you can't deal with Mike blushing. 

  "Yeah, it is. Couple more weeks." 

 "What're your plans?" 

 You shrug against him, trying not to get too wrapped up in the way his body feels over yours, longer legs tangling between yours, his draped hand nearly covering your entire stomach, his stubble scratching your neck and cheek. 

 When did you get this close? When did you decide it was okay to be this intimate? This is what couples do. This is comfort. 

 And, you didn't think you needed it, but fuck—

 "Nothing, really. Go see Mom, I guess."

 "Come stay with me," he says quickly. "Just for a few days."

 You wriggle to turn on your back and frown up at him as a myriad of questions fill your mind. 

 Mike takes a deep breath, somehow reading every one of them. 

 "I know that sounds like a 'come meet my parents' thing, but I promise it's not. I just thought it'd be cool to hang out not at school and not at a party. Plus," he shows a broad grin. "You can meet Scout."

 "Mm, tempting," you laugh. "I do like dogs."

 "And, you'll love her! She's so sweet and so goofy and—"

 "I'll think about it," you stop him. 

 Mike bites his lip, looking hopeful, but tries to play it off with a, "Okay, cool," then leans down to kiss you as if you've already said yes. 

 Honestly, you have, just not out loud. He had you at 'hanging out'. 

 *

Studying sucks. Midterms suck. Avoiding parties, however, does not suck. Mike still goes to most of them, kind of has to considering they're usually thrown at the PKA house, but sometimes he just shows his face then comes to your dorm. You try to convince him to stay, hang out with his friends, but he usually just shrugs and digs through your stash of movies until he finds something he wants to watch. 

 It's fine with you, makes passing geochem a lot fucking easier, but it also means little sleep and a perpetual soreness between your legs. 

 You just… Can't get enough of each other. And, you think that's how it's always been since that first party. Afterward, you had denied him in the courtyard and then broke as soon as he got into your room to get his stupid shirt. Denied him at the bar then broke as soon as he leaned over you at the pool table. Denied him at the after-game party and broke after… Seeing his room? Watching movies? Acting like friends for the first time? Whatever it is, you're always falling into bed together, some kind of unstoppable force against your obviously very movable object. 

 It's something you think about too much now, always somewhere in the back of your head. At this point, you should probably just be with him, don't know who you're kidding with that lie about focusing on school (your grades have never been better actually), but you're scared. That's really what's been hard to admit to yourself, not the fact that you're attracted to him or the fact that your irritation has bloomed into genuine fondness and admiration. It's that's you're fucking terrified. You can feel it in your bones. 

 Don't get too attached because people leave. All the time. People let you down. People disappoint. 

 You don't want Mike to disappoint you, so you won't give him the chance to. 

 Of course, all of that is easier said than done as you look over at him in the Wrangler, one huge hand pn the wheel as his other arm hangs out of the open window, catching the wind that batters against it like he's trying to push back. You hate it when he does that, too many horror stories of car crashes that end in traumatic amputations, but it's one of Mike's strange simple pleasures, makes him grin as if it's his head hanging out instead. At his core, Mike Zacharias is just a huge fucking puppy dog. 

 A dubstep song from too long ago is blasting through his speakers, the vibrations hitting you square in the chest as you bounce your leg and bob your head. It's beautiful outside, winter's bite melting away into sunny springtime days. Some of them still bring a chill to the air, but it doesn't matter since you basically live in one of Mike's hoodies, dark green with the school's lacrosse logo stamped in the middle. It's faded and worn out and far too big on you, but it's quite possibly the most comfortable article of clothing you've acquired. 

 The drive to his parents' house is a good three hours, but between the playlist he's made (stellar, not that you'd admit it), the road games you play, and the road head you give him ("Oh, Jesus Christ, this isn't safe—this isn't safe—fuck—") you make it there in one piece and in good spirits, though you have take a few drinks of the soda you got at the convenience store to wash the residue of cum out of your mouth before meeting his god damn family. 

 He grabs both your bags from the backseat, slinging them over his shoulders, then starts up the path to a… surprisingly small home. It isn't a shack by any means, but after what you saw of Erwin's stupid ranch house and some of the pictures and stories Nile and Gelgar have subjected you to, you just kind of figured all of them had ridiculous amounts of money. 

 Then again, you know Mike got a full ride to college with a sports scholarship, and he rarely talks about his family and their lifestyle aside from Scout and little tales from his childhood—trips to the zoo, the one time he rode a dirt bike and broke his collarbone, he and his dad rescuing an injured bunny from the park. 

 You should've known back then that you'd get in too deep. 

 The small garden that lines the house is well-kempt and full of blooming flowers, and the porch is home to a wire table and matching chairs with an unsavory gnome sitting on top.  

 "What in the world…"

 Mike doesn't even glance to see what you're looking at, just opens the screen door and informs you, "That's Leonidas," so casually that it makes you snort and push him into his own house. 

 It opens up to a living room, long couch, recliner, coffee table and all. A TV sits right in the middle of a beige entertainment center, DVDs stacked on one side, blu-ray discs on the other. It smells clean—like the lemon wipes you use in your dorm—but even stronger than that is the smell of food. 

 "Must already be cooking," Mike muses, then calls out in a different fucking language that has you turning to him in confusion. 

 Before you can ask about it, a plump woman a couple inches taller than you comes rushing out of what you assume to be the kitchen. Her graying hair is tied into a loose bun, cheeks rosy from the heat, and she's still in her apron and a single oven mitt. 

 "Miche, γλυκό μου αγόρι!" 

 She stops in front of him and reaches up to grab his face, peppering it with little kisses and babbling words you do not understand in the slightest. 

 Mike is laughing, speaking to her in the same fashion, possibly answering questions or defending himself judging by the way he holds his hands up. You think you have an inkling about why when his mother turns to you, puts her hands on your shoulders to look at you, then pulls you into a tight hug. 

 You squeeze her right back, rocking to and fro as she does, then look up at Mike from the corner of your eyes in a panic. 

 What do you do, what is happening, what hasn't he told you? 

 It’s about this time that a large dog runs into the room and actually jumps into Mike’s arms. He grunts as he hoists Scout up, nuzzling into her beautiful coat as she tries to lick his face.

 "Mamá, let her get settled first," Mike laughs from where he’s getting attacked. His mother lets go of you, but it’s only for Mike to set the dog back down, and Scout takes the opportunity to sniff and paw at you. “Be nice,” he warns her, pulling you in front of him and pushing you toward the hallway.

 That need to snoop around is ever present as you enter his room, but the much more pressing issue is, "You could've prepared me, ya' know. Given me a little heads up that you're…"

 "Greek?" He snorts, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. "My last name is Zacharias. That's a pretty good indicator."

 "I—..." You pause, pout, then mumble, "I'm not a genealogy expert."

 "Obviously not."

 He dumps the bags on his bed, a queen size, thank god, because he had told you last week they didn't have a guest room (and had seemed pretty happy about it at the time). 

 "I'll get mom and dad to speak in English for the next few days." 

 "I mean," you shake your head. "It's their house. I don't wanna intrude on that. Let 'em do what they're most comfortable with."

 He steps over to you, makes his classic move of staring down at you and smoothing his hand over your hair to make you tilt your head up. "That's sweet, but I know they're dying to talk with you, so actually being able to understand what they’re saying is kinda necessary."

 Humming, you stand on your tip-toes just as he begins to stoop lower. Before you can meet in a kiss, though, you smirk, "And, just why do they wanna get to know me, Miche? Is that a secret Greek name too?”

 He licks his lips, voice husky when he replies, "I've mentioned you a few times--”

 “Uh huh,” you smirk, too close for him to actually see.

 “And no, I think it’s Hebrew or something.” 

 You snicker before your mouths meet, breaths grow heavy, and the only time you break apart is so that you can look him in his light eyes and tell him, "By the way, the whole speaking a different language thing you can do?" He grunts, encouraging you to continue. "Very hot."

 You feel him smile against you, a self-satisfied, "Yeah?" making you burn against him. 

 "Yeah."

 It's hard to leave the room, but you both know you have to, hoping neither of you look too kiss-swollen when you walk back into the living room, and when Mike's mom is no longer there, he brings you to the kitchen instead. 

 "Smells good," he tells her, leaning over the stove and taking a whiff of the prepared dish that’s been set on top--stuffed tomatoes and peppers that make your mouth water.

 She says something, and Mike lets her finish before asking, "Can we speak in English while she's here? It's kinda hard to add to a conversation when you, like, don't know what's being said."

 "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She immediately gushes, turning to you with a worried look. Her accent is thick and charming, but she doesn't ever stutter, clearly fluent, just more comfortable in her apparently native language. "I just get so caught up when my Miche comes home, I—"

 And, she's hugging you again. 

 "I'm Maia! Christopher—Miche's father—should be home soon."

 You rub Maia's back until she lets go and turns back to the stove, but even as she does, she's asking you, "How is school? What are you studying? Miche's told me very few things."

 He shouldn't have told you anything at all, you want to say. 

 "Um, it's good. I'm an earth sciences major, geology specifically, so Mike—uh—Miche's been helping me study a lot."

 He leans down to speak so only you can hear, "Not necessary to call me that. She's gonna know who you're talking about when you say Mike."

 Not that you'll tell him, but you kind of like the way 'Miche' feels, the way it rolls from your lips to the back of your mouth, and for just one second, you think about how you'd like to moan it in his ear. 

 "So, uh," you shake your head in an attempt to get it back on straight. "Yeah, it's going good, I think."

 "It is nice that you study together," Maia hums, slicing into the dish to portion it out. "Miche probably enjoys the break from his fraternity life." 

 Mike makes an unsure noise, but you grin and lean on the counter, eyes shining as you look at the middle-aged woman, "You know, speaking of that, I need to know what he was like before the whole frat thing 'cause—"

 "Uhh, we don't need to talk about that," Mike quickly cuts you off. 

 Maia, however, catches your eye and winks, a silent promise that she'll fill you in later. 

 Mike sees it, whines a dramatic, "Mamá, please."

 You laugh, glancing over at him with a devious smile that makes him roll his eyes and grumble something. 

 The creak of a door opening followed by the sound of a screen slamming back against the frame signals the arrival of Mike's father. It takes him a couple minutes to join everyone in the kitchen, probably taking the time to get more comfortable after what you assume to be a long day. 

 When he does walk in, once styled hair fallen out of place, top two buttons of his shirt undone, you see exactly where Mike gets most of his looks. He may have gotten his fucking mane from his mother, but he definitely got his height and his eyes from his father. 

 "Oh!" He stops short when he sees you, looks at his wife, then at you, then at Mike. "Is this the girl?" 

 "Dad!" 

 Both of his parents snicker as he turns to you, pleading more than telling, "Just ignore them, they don't know what they're talking about."

 You don't pay him any mind, join in on the fun when you lift an eyebrow and tease, "Am I, Mike? Am I the girl?"

 "Oh my god, this is gonna be a nightmare," he groans, the tips of his ears growing red. Still, he tries to put on a stern face as he points at his parents, speaks in beautiful, rolling words that are beyond you, then turns his flashing gaze to you and commands, "And you, don't encourage them."

 "Mm, no promises." You stick the tip of your tongue between your teeth and wink at his mom the way she had at you earlier. 

 All of you sit at an actual table for dinner, something you haven't done in at least a decade, as you talk and laugh between bites of food. Scout is laying underneath, waiting for someone to drop a piece of food, and every once in a while, you feel her wet nose nudge against your calf.

 Maia and Chris are very kind and very funny, and it isn't just because they pick on their son all the time. Chris talks about his day in the office, complaining about coworkers the same way Mike complains about his brothers—"I just don't understand why you would eat sardines in the break room! Someone explain it to me!" Maia tells everyone about the three hour phone call with her mother—"My god that woman can talk. Every time we said goodbye, she would just start on something new!"

 "Explains where you get it from," Chris says with a chuckle. 

 Maia scoffs then stabs a piece of his food with her fork, eating it with purpose as her husband watches. 

 You lean over to Mike and murmur, "They're cute. I like 'em."

 He grunts. "That makes one of us."

 Sucking your teeth, you mimic his mother's actions and dig your fork into the meat of his pepper, stealing a bite and scraping your teeth over the utensil in a way you know drives him crazy. 

 You immediately regret it when you realize how big the piece is, filling your mouth so that it's hard to chew, and you grab a napkin to cover yourself while Mike snorts and smugly says, "Yeah, bet you feel real smart right now. How does thievery taste?" 

 Shoving his arm, you manage to swallow down enough of the food to talk and tell him, "Tastes delicious."

 When you look back across the table, you find Maia and Chris staring at you and Mike with shining eyes and matching grins. 

*

You get along well with Mike's parents. A little too well in his opinion. There are a couple mornings you wake up earlier than he does and share coffee with his mother. He'll walk in to hear her sharing terrible stories about how, "He was such a sensitive little boy," and, "I miss the days he and his friends would spend afternoons here playing their little games."

 She even breaks out the photo albums one evening after dinner, leaving Mike mortified as you laugh and 'aww' at the pictures of past birthdays, Boy Scout outings, and the horrors of middle and high school. 

 "Look how cute you are with braces!"

 "Please stop."

 "All dressed up for Easter, oh my god, are those bunny ears?" 

 "Mom made me."

 "You were so skinny. What happened?" 

 "Are you calling me fat?" 

 "No, I'm calling you buff. Dummy."

 Less embarrassing are the long walks the two of you take with Scout (who also loves you, of course). She stays close to your hip as you wander around the park, only leaving your side when you throw her favorite ball. At the house, she noses at you until you shift to let her lay either at your feet or on the couch with her big head in your lap. 

 It's the cutest fucking thing Mike has ever seen, and he hates it because he can't do anything about it. He can't tell you how much he likes seeing you walk around in his house. He can't tell you how much joy it brings him to hear your laugh ring out alongside his parents'. He can't tell you how much he loves seeing you slide into his old bed in nothing but one of his shirts, making yourself comfortable against his chest and weaving your legs between his. 

 He can't tell you, but he can do his best to show you. 

 Late at night when his parents are asleep, when the buzzing TV is the only thing lighting the room, Mike moves inside of you with deep, slow thrusts. He hikes your legs up to lock around his waist or pulls you up against himself if he's taking you from behind. No matter the position, it leaves you clawing at him, breathing heavily, jaw dropping open in a silent scream. 

 You feel so good, so tight around him even after he gets you ready for his cock. Your silken walls squeeze and milk him, pulling every drop of cum from him to soak into you. Fuck, he's so glad you're letting him do that now, fill you up until you can't take any more, until white is dribbling from your messy pussy. The way you look at him all fucked out is intoxicating, eyes droopy, smile lazy, body twitching with aftershocks as he sucks on your neck and kisses down your shoulders. 

 You have to know. You have to. Mike knows his feelings are written all over his face when he looks at you, may as well be carved into his skin. The words are on the tip of his tongue every night, but he muffles them with kisses, with burying his face between your legs, with sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. 

 He can't say it because saying it makes it real. Saying it will make it hurt more. 

 So Mike keeps his mouth shut, watches you every day as you converse with his parents and play with Scout. You poke around his bedroom in your usual nosy fashion, finding the rest of his Magic cards, old D&D books and privacy screens. The dusty record player he'd inherited from his grandfather interests you above all else, vinyls stacked around it, some old, some new, and as you flip through them now, cross-legged on the floor and swimming in his hoodie, you tell him the little things you talked about with his mom earlier in the day. 

 "She showed me your baby teeth," you say with a snort. "Why do parents keep those? My mom did too."

 "Black Magic, obviously," Mike says seriously, but when you glance up at him, he chuckles. "I don't know, babe. It's fuckin' weird, though."

 You grin and look back down at The Alan Parsons Project vinyl in your lap. You're quiet for a moment, but when you do speak up, it's in a quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure they think I'm your girlfriend."

 Mike cringes on the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, that's probably 'cause I told them you were." 

 "What?" You turn your whole body to face him, eyes wide and incredulous. 

 Sitting up, Mike holds his hands out and questions, "What was I supposed to tell them? Hey, mom and dad, I'm bringing home this girl I fuck at school all the time."

 "We don't just fuck," you scoff. "You could've said friend or… Study buddy."

 "Study buddies with benefits," he lets out a humorless laugh. "How many of those study sessions end with your mouth around my cock?" 

 "That's beside the point." You stand up and walk over to the bed, hands on your hips as you glare at him in an unconvincing manner. You're not actually upset, Mike realizes. A little annoyed maybe but more surprised than anything. "The point is they expect us to do couple-y things."

 "We do do couple-y things." Mike reminds you, rolling his eyes when you snicker and murmur 'ha, do do'. "Oh my god, you're a dork."

 "So are you. And, a dumb one. What happens when they find out we're not actually together? Are we gonna have to stage a break up somewhere down the line?" 

 "Stop worrying about it," Mike tries, reaching out for one of your arms to pull you on top of him. You must be very used to straddling him at this point. It seems like you're in his lap more often than you're not these days, even if the two of you are just talking. "Just chill and fake it for a little while longer."

 You pout, glancing to the wall for a second before you mutter, "Might be tough. I've never had to fake anything for you before."

 Mike groans and traces his fingers up your sides, stopping at your shoulders and using them to guide you closer to him. With your face only millimeters from his, he barely even has to whisper when he presses, "Fake it just this once."

 You nod, lips brushing his, and from there you both devolve into sloppy kisses and desperate hands. As always.

[ next ]