#overlap: coffee cups

[tayfabe75]

Ehi! Do you think that "the black dog" could be about Matty?

Sure I do! Why not? When we have precisely three words to go off of, the world is our oyster black dog!

You know what? Let's have some fun. I'm going to wager a guess I haven't seen much speculation about yet, which is that 'The Black Dog' could be about Cerberus! Yep, the three-headed dog that guards the gates of the underworld in Greek mythology…

To explain his possible significance, I must first introduce you to Psyche: the Greek goddess of the soul, whose symbol is butterfly wings…

But she wasn't always a goddess! She used to be a mortal woman. One so beautiful that she stirred jealousy within the goddess of love & beauty, herself, Aphrodite, who ordered her son and god of love, Eros (also known as Cupid), to make Psyche fall in love with the most wretched creature imaginable. Instead, Eros found himself so taken by Psyche's beauty that he fell in love with her, himself!

And so, Psyche was whisked away to a palace wherein an invisible lover bestowed upon her great luxury and riches, keeping her company each night in total darkness to obscure his identity. So long as she never looked upon him, they could remain lovers.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of her and Psyche shone a light on Eros… So stunned by his beauty, she dropped her oil lamp, burning him. Injured and betrayed, Eros escaped into the night, abandoning her.

Distraught, Psyche set forth to make amends with her lost lover, confronting Aphrodite (also known as Venus), who presented her with a series of trials she must first complete…

One of which required a trip to the underworld…

And, yep! You guessed it. Psyche had to sneak past the three-headed (black?) guard dog Cerberus… (who might've been referenced in 'Blank Space' via a trio of Dobermans?:)

Then, ferried by Charon, Psyche traveled across the River Styx…

While Psyche traversed the underworld, Eros healed from his burns and then set off in search of reconciliation with Psyche, ultimately returning to his lost lover...

So, if the Karma video really is a sort of visual retelling of Psyche's journey back to Eros… who do you suppose is on the piano bench at the end here? Some say Jack (who, interestingly, recently released a song featuring Matty on piano!)… But, considering the romantic tone of the Psyche & Eros love story… it seems to fit Somebody Else a bit better, wouldn't you say? Somebody who, like Eros, was burned after exposure…

Somebody who might symbolize the ram's horns on Taylor's underworld mask (Aries), somebody whose birthday aligns with the solar eclipse this year, somebody who shares an association with Bonnie Parker and Wizard of Oz, somebody who drinks out of eerily similar coffee cups in front of a clock that happens to bear the same time as the twin coffee cup from Karma…

If any of these Psyche/Eros parallels happen to be more than pure coincidence, then perhaps it is worth noting that, much like Betty and James, Eros and Psyche also end up together 🏹

That said? Yeah, yeah! I know. 'The Black Dog' will probably be a depressing song, given that it is basically synonymous with depression. But I have a small window for clowning left. That said, there's also Mayhem, a black dog who is surely worthy of a sonnet!

Another fun guess: Toto from The Wizard of Oz! But I'm not sure if he's technically considered brown or black, but in my head he's a black dog, anyway lol Toto would be a great subversion of current expectations, at least!

Thanks for the ask! 🤍

[gilverrwrites]

Man, I need something with Jason's big hands, so big that one hand can cup your entire sex...

He will smack your clit, cup your sex, you'll grind on it and he will do something while cupping your lady bits.

I can live off of your body heat

Jason Todd/Reader, 2.4K

AN: I've actually had mutiple req for Jason and/or Dick slapping and pinching the readers clit which is like so specific, but I get it. Like I feel yall so much. I know Jay being a giant is fanon thing, but goddamn my 5'4 ass wants to be crushed by his hands so bad. CWs: Mentions of Jay's scars, swearing, size difference, Dom!Jay, teasing, Jay being really rough, nipple play, clit pinching, clit slapping. Petnames: Baby, babe, babygirl, good girl, Name-calling: Filthy girl, bitch, slut. Recommended listening: Body Heat - Kate Nash

There’s a scar on his chest. Actually, there are many scars on his chest. However, there’s one in particular that stands out; a long taut piece of skin that stretches from his left shoulder blade, right down to his sternum. Its pale sheen stands out against his tan skin and begs you to trail a finger along it.

Despite the temptation, you don’t.

Jason hasn’t slept this well in weeks so you daren't risk waking him yet. Instead, you watch the gentle rise and fall of his torso under the mellow light of the morning sun until the need to move is too great.

Your feet have barely touched the ground when a pair of sturdy arms close around you, enveloping you in the warmth of the very body you’d just been admiring and pulling you back into the bed. Or more, pulling you on top of his body, primarily by his choice, partially because there isn’t enough room for you both to lay without some overlap. Every time you mention buying a larger bed, Jason vetoes it; says he likes the close proximity. That feeling your body against his helps him to relax and you can’t really argue with that sentiment.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” He asks from the spot in the crook of your neck he loves to nuzzle into. He peppers the side of your neck with sleepy half-kisses.

It would be endearing, were his hands not already under the oversized Red Hood tee you’d stolen from him to sleep in.

“Oh, I don’t know.” You hum, hands wrapping around his wrists, purely for additional skin-on-skin contact. You couldn’t stop him from ghosting his calloused fingertips up your body if you wanted to. It’s strange, and arousing to think that he can, and has trapped both of your wrists in with just one hand.

“You don't know?” He’s rousing properly now, amused by your answer.

“Probably just to shower, make a coffee, maybe read a book until you wake up.”

“I’m awake now.” He reminds you, rolling his hips to emphasise his double entendre. The heat of his mourning wood grinds against your backside, and at the same time, one of his wandering hands finally settles on a target. He cups the underside of your breast, and you can’t help sucking in a breath as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Already so brutal, despite the slow, sensual way he’s been exploring until now.

You sigh in relief when he lets go, allowing just enough time for the blood to rush back before he clamps down again, this time in a twisting motion that has your hands shooting up into his hair. “Jay!”

He seems unaffected by your attack on his scalp, chuckling into the tender spot behind your ear, and causing a chill to run down your spine. “Yeah, baby?”

“You should be asleep.” You’d intended to deadpan for comedic effect, but it comes out in short, strained breaths that only serve to make you sound needy as hell.

It’s at this point you hear a snapping sound, followed by the light sting of your underwear’s elastic waist snapping against your skin, drawing your attention downwards just in time to feel Jason cupping your entire sex in just one of his hands. All the while he never stops the assault on your now raw tits.

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions. At the same time, he palms your folds through the fabric of your underwear, pressing the ball of it against your increasingly aching clit.

“Feels nice.” You sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck which he eagerly accepts, honing in to suck and nibble, sloppily leaving marks in his wake. You don’t want to back down, but God, you do not want him to stop.

“Come on baby, I need a real answer. Do you want me to go back to sleep?” He eventually circles back, lips barely leaving your flesh as he speaks. Distracting you from the erotic sting of your nipples and the heat between your legs as his rugged fingers push all the right buttons. “Or do you want me to keep playing with your cute little pussy?”

“Fuck, Jay please- “ You’re ready to give in but as you speak he hooks two fingers under the crotch of your underwear, and the resulting, embarrassingly wet squelch that sounds out as he presses them between your folds has you hissing.

“Please what?” He goads, now upping the pressure. He’s doing it on purpose, cause he’s a fucking tease. “Please stop?”

“No! Please don’t stop touching my cunt!”

“Your cunt? You’re fucking filthy, girl. You know that?” He plants a quick, hard kiss on your cheek and, as if you weigh nothing, lifts you by your pussy, repositioning you for his own ease until your legs are stretched wide, his own wedged in between to keep you in place. The speed at which he moves is enough to give you whiplash. You barely have enough time to gasp at the retraction of his hands before they’re on you again, settling in new positions. With one hand he completely pulls aside your panties, exposing your hot, soaked folds to the tepid air. The other pulls your tee over your head before cupping the back of your head, forcing your gaze downwards. “Don’t move. I want you to watch everything I do to you. Can you do that for me, baby”

Shit. You think your heart might beat out of your chest. All this vehement energy so early in the morning. “Yes, Jay!”

Immediately contradicting yourself, you turn your head to admire his handsome profile. The determined squint of his eyes, the bed head, the morning stubble, you really lucked out with him you think as you lean closer to kiss his cheek. Before you can make contact Jay's grip tightens on the back of your head, sharply turning you back to watch as he dips two long fingers between your slit. Your clit practically twitches at the sight of them; long enough to span from top to entrance in excess.

You try your hardest to watch as he repeatedly strokes your lips in short, lazy motions but it’s a challenge not to close your eyes and get lost in the moment. It’s even harder not to throw your head back and scream when he suddenly sinks his fingers around your clit and starts pinching, it. Tightly rolling the sensitive bud between two curled fingers.

“Shit, Jay.” You pant through gritted teeth. “That hurts so good.”

Just like with your nipples, what feels even better is the rapid return of blood flow when he releases it. He repeats the process twice over, laughing every time you flinch or whine. Whispering in your ear about how you’re his “good girl”, how “you can take it” every time you dig your nails into his arm in an attempt to relieve the pain.

“Help me out here babe. Spread your pussy out for me.” He instructs, playfully gasping into your ear when you pull back your lips to reveal your now dark and swollen core. You’re too turned on to care about the sight of it. Happy to expose yourself, certain that the moment he starts kneading you with care, you’ll cum in seconds.

Jason must be thinking the same as he dips one finger into your entrance, just enough to coat it with your arousal before returning to your puffy clit to rub around it in circles. Even at twice the size, your clit is smaller than the tip of his finger.

“Ohh, I’m gonna cum soon.” Before you’ve even finished your sentence Jay retracts his hand, ripping a distraught weep from you in the process. You’ve been here a hundred times before, splayed out for him, gasping, and begging for his touch, but the red-hot shame at your flagrant desperation never eases. “What the fuck, dude!?”

“Dude?” Without warning, Jay comes back down. Hard. Your whole body shakes under the intensity of the vicious slap he delivers to your clit. “Who the fuck are you calling dude?”

He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he smacks your open folds again. Flipping the switch in your body from heady to adrenaline-filled arousal.

“Say my name.” He barks as he dispenses a third slap.

“Jay!” You don’t have it in you to say his full name, but it seems to satisfy.

“Say it louder.” His words are punctuated by the lewd echo of sharp, stinging strikes. “I want the neighbours to hear what a dirty fucking slut you are. Want them to know who you belong to.”   

“Jason. You Jason!” You close your eyes and throw your head back, crying with everything you can muster, not caring how raunchy or pathetic you sound. Ignoring the pain of your own nails digging into your flesh. “Jason. I’m yours, Jason.”

“That's better.” He growls. Finally, his arm falls slack. With no friction from your dripping, wanting walls, Jason glides two fingers into your entrance and you tremble, your whole body tingling, ecstatic to finally feel him inside you. It’s just two fingers, two impressively strong, thick fingers that make you feel so full. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

Abashed by his sudden gentleness you open your eyes once more, positioning yourself to look at him as best you can. He’s one to talk. You’re always telling him he could be a model if he decided to quit being a part-time crime lord, part-time crime fighter.  

You’re unable to concentrate on him for long, however, as he starts pumping in and out of you in torturously slow thrusts. After all the excitement, it quietens your mind and eases your muscles. For the first time since he’d repositioned your bodies, you notice the pressure of his cock, pulsing against your lower back. The rigged hardness of it makes you feel fuzzy and content at his equal levels of arousal.

You stay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the calm as Jason gently massages your insides until it’s not enough. You need more, your body yearns, your core practically twitching for his touch on your clit again. An orgasm is approaching steadily, but you’ll get nowhere without it.

The heel of his hand is so close, so sturdy, you don’t even think about what you’re doing, you just start undulating your hips, rutting up against him in unstable motions. He doesn’t stop you; in fact he curls his fingers and brings his palm down closer, letting you use him to chase your orgasm.

“That's it, baby. Hump me like a bitch in heat.” He coos so softly in your ear that it would set your pulse racing if it wasn’t already running at a mile a minute. “Remember I'm the only who does this for you, the only one who can make you feel so full and cock drunk on just my hands.”

He's right, he's so fucking right.

“Keep that up, I might just cum too.”

“Fuck me.” You breathe, affected both by his words and the reminder of his throbbing dick squeezed between your bodies.

“Not until you cum on my fingers.” He’s only half joking. “Can you do that for me baby, cum all over my finger like a good little slut?”

Fuck yes, you can. You want to say, but all your energy is focused on riding his hand, fucking yourself on his brawny fingers, and gyrating against his palm like it's your job. His groans and rasps become a motivational mantra as you keep bucking your hips.

“You’re nearly there.” He comments, able to feel your walls tightening around his digits, convulsing uncontrollably as it hits you. It takes all your strength to ride it out; to keep going as you topple over the edge but fuck it’s worth it for the full extent of your release. “That it babygirl, cum for me baby, fucking soak me.”

Worth it for the explicit sound of your wet cum streaming against Jason’s hands, for the rush of ecstasy that bleeds through your body, and especially for the unexpected heat that spreads across your lower back in spaced-out intervals; Jason's own ejaculation seeping through his boxers and dispersing on your skin.         

Simultaneously, you both grow limp, breathing in time with each other until the rapid movements of your chests begin to ebb back to a steady pace.

“You were so good for me, I’m so proud of you.” Jason praises as he rolls your bodies onto their sides, never releasing you in the process, but allowing him a better ability to press a smattering of kisses to the side of your head, lingering along your jawline. You're grateful for his sweet words, but still too fucked-out to speak, but you coo when he lifts a hand to run his thumb along your neck, presumably checking out his earlier handy work. You arch to get a better look at him, and given the subtle, but smug smile on his face, you’re certain he’s left quite the mark.   

“Let me guess.” You find your voice. “It’s not just the neighbours who’ll know who I belong to?”

“Hmmmm.” He tilts his head and puckers his lips in mock consideration. “I think you should donate all your scarf.”

“Jay!” You punch his shoulder, and he has enough decency to play along, briefly leaning back as though you could even make a dent on his towering frame. “Is it really bad?”

“No. No no no.” He’s lying through his teeth, snickering as he leans in to crush your lips with his own. His skin is slick with sweat you realise when you reach up to gently grasp his other shoulder and guide him closer to you. His morning breath is frankly kind of gross, but yours probably is too. Nevertheless, it’s a price you’re willing to pay for his affection.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks when he pulls back from your mouth, continuing to press kisses down your neck, along your collar, and slinking closer to your chest with each brush. He asks some variation of this same question everytime you fuck. Letting you direct how much you can take from him in one go or what kind of aftercare you need.

“I don’t know.” You hum, imitating your earlier indecision, as you stretch against the mattress. “Shower, coffee, and a book still sounds good to me.”

“Sounds very good. Mind if I join?” He’s not actually asking, that much is evident as he lifts you in his arms and cradles you against his chest as he stands. You’ll both be grateful to get your sticky, cum soaked underwear off. You’ll be even more grateful for the chance to lather and massage your boyfriend up in soapy bubbles, to really get your fingers on those pretty scars that call to you. Maybe you can convince him to take a nap later when you’re curled up on the couch, reading together.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jay.”

[slut4daviii]

character(s): g.tomioka

pt(s): 02/02

cw: (i think) praise, slight marathon sex, overstimulation

summary:

a/n: this had plot. i swear. and I’m writing this on five frappes, three cups of coffee, and 30 mins of sleep so……

title: birthday/anniversary sex

w/c: 1300+

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Giyuu squirmed, his back pressed firmly against his porcelain sink in a sickly sweet manner, pleasure beginning to overlap pain.

he swallowed a gasp, bringing his palm between his teeth to muffle his own… indecent noises. “ffhugk!! s—stop t—teasing… please.”

a chuckled reverberated from above him, followed by a slick noise that made his leg twitch in anticipation. they shook lightly, adding to the overflowing strain in his muscles. he gripped your bicep, nails digging inward to keep himself from falling. “[n—name]!!”

you chuckled, moving your fingers further apart to insert a third, “yes, Mr. Tomioka?”

his eyes rolled slightly, walls tightening around you, almost as if he didn’t want you to move. as if… he wanted you inside of him forever; in front of his husband, in public, with his family, at work, everywhere.

you smiled at him, pulling your fingers to his rim, circling the pulsating muscle before lightly tapping your fingers against it.

his legs again faltered, shaking as his fingers left scarlet streaks lining your back. “p—please…! I need you, need your cock— mfmgh… mmm…”

you kissed him, wrapping both hands around his lower back to left him from the sink. he quickly responded, wrapping his trembling legs against your waist, grinding harshly against your still covered dick.

you smirked into the kiss, pressing against him for a second before pulling away. he reacted quickly, bringing his hips down to meet yours, sending electricity flying gracefully between the two of you.

you broke the kiss, panting lightly. “Giyuu,” he arched his back, dick rubbing between your abs as copious amounts of pre-cum leaked from his tip. “aw, c’mon, you called me, remember?” you chuckled, biting his lip before continuing, “c’mon Giyuu, I know you want it…”

he nodded desperately, dick twitching violently. you looked at him, drinking each one of his features — he was so beautiful. how could his husband give up any of this? “god, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” he blushed, turning the same color as his tip.

“you know how to really thank me?” you paused, wrapping a hand around his tip, “cum.” at your tone, Giyuu panted, thrusting into your palm endlessly—

“I—I can’t! ne… need your co—cock! please!”

“you can do it. c’mon, Giyuu, show me how much you want it.”

you undid your belt, reaching into your pants to roughly jerk yourself off, rolling your neck at the instant pleasure. “fffuckk! Giyuu! I wanna show you all the things your husband can’t, but… you gotta cum for me.”

Giyuu gulped, your tip, not even fully erect was already touching his back. he felt pleasure run along his veins, a burning sensation at the base of his dick.

placing his face into your neck, he inhaled your scent, the aroma slightly musky from your previous work on his other sink. his eyes almost completely disappeared into his head, hips thrusting warmly against your abdomen.

“yeah, you got it… cum for me.”

at the praise, Giyuu moaned shamelessly, the borderline screams echoing through his house and into the neighbors. it was obvious that he’d abandoned all shame long ago, only worried about his, and your, pleasure.

he bit his tongue, toes curling as he felt your tip enter his body— “[name]!”

you, reaching disparity, slammed him down, your tip embedding itself into his womb. you moaned into his shoulder, feeling utterly complete as his warmth slowly surrounded you.

Giyuu was blissed out, body unable to comprehend any other sensation but the thick ropes of semen erupting from his quickly emptying tip. it was amazing. after a month of masturbating to your image, he finally had you. and it was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

he was still cumming, eyes blank with pleasure as you began moving him along your dick— the feeling of your tip, even at his entrance, still burning in his stomach.

you we’re holding onto what little composure you had, shallowly thrusting into him to keep yourself grounded, not wanting to… ruin him.

every thrust, every glimpse of contact, every second of Giyuu’s walls pulling you back in, swallowing every inch of your cock so graciously… it did something to you. pulling you further and further into his web of sex, love, and desire.

“mmmhh…”

even you were speechless. unable to form sentences, let alone, think about anything else in that moment. “fuhgggkk…”

Giyuu shuddered with pleasure, limp in your arms as he fell from grace. his breathing was rigid, faltering flat of what it should’ve been. his throat was parched, coaxed in a layer of invisible sawdust. “[n—name]?”

you’d stopped moving, breathing quickly to stop your still approaching orgasm. back against the wall, he placed his hands on your biceps, both trapping him against you. he moved slightly, walls again clenching around every inch of your dick. “n—nghm…”

that was the last straw.

the last whim of patience in you.

your final whim.

you moved your hands, one coming to Giyuu’s lower back while the other moved to lift his thigh above your shoulder, giving you better access to his body.

“[n—name]…? what’re—AHNK!! nmgh!! fuhhh—ck!! [n…name]!! sl—slow do—wn!… ghmhnn…”

you only panted, your eyes shut closed with pleasure— head tilting back as your orgasm quickly climbed towards its boiling point.

Giyuu screamed around your cock, hands sliding down the wall as you continued to slam into his swollen hole, hands gripping his soft, milky white thighs. oh… his thighs. you were in love.

“nghk! s..so— oh my god… so good! you—your… mgh!! [name]!! plea—se!! keep— please keep g—ghouing!”

oh, you were falling in love. his moans, his thighs, his tearful eyes that seemed to gleam under the flourishing florescent lights.

he was so perfect.

so so perfect.

you pressed closer to him, your tip throbbing endlessly. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you pulled out, lifting Giyuu’s other leg, “you— ngk, fuck!” your tip was beyond sensitive, flushing a shade deeper before you plunged back into him, biting his neck at the same time.

your orgasm rang through your entire body, a deep groan echoing around you before a high-pitched moan from both you and Giyuu belting out. your legs shook lightly, head tilted back to another angle. “fhhuggk, Giyuu!!”

he also came, legs endlessly shakin on your shoulders, “[n—name]!”

“I love you.”

you slightly hesitated, looking down at the blissed out male, smiling at him, “happy anniversary, baby.”

[yanchive]

Tsundere turned Yandere?

Listen, I reaaallly don't like tsunderes, I find the concept to be annoying, having someone essentially treat you like shit because they can't grow a pair and accept their feelings for you.

But, the concept of a tsun going yandere sounds pretty interesting.

Surely, after dealing with so many snarky comments and polarizing experiences, not knowing if they genuinely enjoy your presence/friendship or if their just tolerating you because you two share an overlapping social circle. There's only so much you can take recieving gifts from them only for them to turn around act like it was burden to go all the way to the store to buy you it even though you never asked. Like, who does that? Gets mad at YOU for giving YOU gifts...?

It makes you stressed. The contradiction of verbal abuse and caring, affectionate actions leave you confused and annoyed. Eventually, the only right thing to do for your sanity is drop them as a friend. Yeah, you'd probably have to drop the other couple friends that are part of each of your social circle, but if it meant not being overwhelmed with gifts, affection, and berating comments, then so be it.

You break the news to them after another encounter. They had called you stupid for being cold one day(it was the middle of winter, why tf wouldn't you be cold!?). They began dragging you to the nearest café for a cup of hot chocolate, but you pulled away and confessed how your feeling. You wanted to do it as cordial as possible, but that uneeded insult had you being a little harsher than you liked it to be.

To be honest, it made you feel bad for a second, when you saw their resting bitch face melt away, their eyes going wide as they flinched away from you when you raised your voice. A look crossed their face that you couldn't quite discern, but you can tell it fell under the line of surprise and sadness. Heartbreak, maybe? But why would they be heartbroken? They've been nothing but a pain in the ass to you.

You fled before they could shake themselves from their shock and respond. They called after you, but you can tell by their fading calls, they were not following after you.

You blocked them on everything, and explained the situation to your friends before leaving all groupchats that had the little brat in them, and took the week off to settle your nerves and hide away. Not because you thought anything bad would happen, but just to hope whatever possible attempts at contact would wash over when they'll eventually(hopefully) give up. You knew a few times you got them coming to your door, but you never bothered to respond.

Once the week ended, and you decided to enter back into society, the first few days went by smoothly. Only to be awoken one morning to barrage of texts and missed phone calls from an unknown number.

The texts started off tame. A wave of apologies and begs of forgiveness. Confessions of love and compliments, telling you how they never meant to hurt you. How they were terrified of you finding out they were in love. The fear of rejection was so bad that they completely overlooked how their actions would affect you. It got more and more incoherent and unhinged until it was nothing but a massive load of photos taken of you throughout the past few days. Distant photos. You're in a grocery store in the first few photos. Going down multiple aisles. You're getting milk and eggs in one, chips and soda in another, deodorant, and body wash in these one. At the checkout lane in the last.

You're at a gas station in the next. Someone was taken the photos from within their car. You're stepping out of your own. Heading into the station. They're zoomed into the window, getting your blurry silhouette at the register. And dozens of you just standing at the pump filling your car.

They have you at your workplace, on a walk, at a restaurant, and a coffee shop. They put little quips of how amazing you looked in the photos, how you made them feel. They talked about wanting to snap the neck of the waiter who took your order when they made you laugh.

Voicemails were them alternating from having straight up mental breakdowns, sobbing uncontrollably as they tried to plead for forgiveness between each gasp of air. Others were just straight rambles, detailing their stalking and reiterating the same affectionate compliments found in the texts. They went on about how they dream of dates with you, how your wedding would look. It was such a 180 from how they used to be. Did that one argument seriously have them snap this bad?

You told them off before blocking their number, attempting to continue your day, albeit so much more paranoid that you liked it to be.

It was terrifying. No matter how much you looked over your shoulder, studied every single person in your vicinity, and tried to blend yourself in the crowds, you could never catch a glimpse of their face, nor shake the unnerving feeling of eyes burning into your body.

Gifts would start showing up at your doorsteps and workplace. Almost every day you were continuously blocking new numbers to try and get them to stop sending you messages and photos of you with no such luck.

You were at your wits end. None of your friends could help. Hell, several of them just seemed to disappear. They just quit contacting you. Police were only minor help, actually taking it a little bit seriously until they came back and told you they talked to your alleged stalker and determined it couldn't possibly be them and that you should contact them when this alleged stalker began getting aggressive. (Hello?? You have voicemails of their fucking voice what do you mean its not them!? You knew this town was shit...)

Though, one good thing came out of contacting the police. It seemed to have scared them enough to halt their harassment. All phone calls and texts came to an end. No more gifts. You could finally breathe.

This continued for a couple weeks. Life returned back to normal. So normal, in fact, that you finally felt safe enough to attend a bar party with a few coworkers one night, just to celebrate what you thought was your new found freedom.

Its just... such a coincidence you weren't the only one invited. Not that you knew. No, not until the next morning after a horrendous hangover. A hangover you weren't expecting. You had one drink, didn't you? Why does it feel so much worse than a hangover? And why can't you move your body? When did you have so many photos of yourself in your room?

And why is their a familiar face looking down at you with that unsettling grin?

[sunnitheapollokid]

♡ ⑅˚₊ going soft on me, hargreeves ? PART ONE.

a five hargreeves multi-fic . . 🌻🕰️ — intro.

warnings : minor cursing .ᐟ mentions of blood.

author’s note : MOSTLY BASED THIS OFF RAPUNZEL READER because tangled is my favorite movie and she’s literally me 🙈 (atp this is a self-insert) AHH but also almost like harley quinn-ish? BUT WHATEVERR happy reading cuties <3

five wiped the blood off his face with his navy blue jacket’s sleeve. his siblings all feeling and looking defeated against the sparrows.

“i’ve never had my ass handed to me like that before.” luther spoke faintly, five squinted under the sun in attempts to relax his body off from that spur of the moment fight. “it’s like,” luther spoke again. “here you go.” he motioned his hands at a confused allison. “it’s your ass.”

despite the pain, five couldn’t get his mind off one of the sparrows. the younger one, with the upbeat personality. he was too busy fighting jayme, but he was incredibly intrigued by her. he could watch her fight diego and allison for a bit, with her own powers. — which was light manipulation.

during the fight, five watched her play with her hands and the light that poured in the hargreeves’ mansion as a distraction for her siblings.

viktor sat by five, “someone’s crushing.”

“yeah, me.” diego replied, stretching his back.

allison rolled her eyes, “i don’t think that’s what viktor meant.” she moved her eyes towards five, who stared at all of them like they were crazy. “a real delight that number eight was, wasn’t she?” klaus commented with a light-hearted laugh. “let’s just find a place to stay, yeah?” five rolled his eyes.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ ⭐️

five needed a break from his siblings. the hotel klaus had found for them wasn’t half bad, but the coffee they served was complete, and in his words : ‘dogshit.’ which was the only downside of it all really. a very big downside.

five walked into griddy’s donuts in attempts to get a decent cup of coffee. he sat down and waited for her order to be taken when, “umbrella asshole?” one of the waiter’s asked him. it was number eight, just in a diner uniform, and holding a pitcher of coffee.

she looked at him confused. “what are you doing here?” five furrowed his brows, “i should be asking you that.” he retorted. she gave out a big smile at that. “okay ‘ya grump, i work here, actually!” she gave a charming wink as she poured him a cup of coffee.

“i take it you’re a black coffee kinda guy?” her voice overlaping the sound of the coffee pouring in. he took the cup and sipped, “am i suppose to be flattered by that observation?” he asked upon putting the cup down. “i’m just very curious is all.” he fought the urge to mirror her infectious smile.

“also, it’s not just number eight, it’s (name). or — (nickname) if you want.” if it was possible, she smiled brighter. how can anyone be so cheery? five thought to himself. also, why isn’t she kicking my ass right now? “anything to eat for you?” she pulled her pretty and sticker-covered notepad out.

he shook his head, “not hungry. far too much things on my mind.” he tapped his foot on the ground. (name) watched him, his anxious stance and his constant worried eyes. “wait here, yeah?” she spoke before running off to the back of the diner. five watched her rush away, only to come out a few moments later with a plate of waffles, eggs, and a few slices of strawberries.

she placed the plate before him, the maple syrup on top with a smiley face. “what’s this?” he asked with a dead-panned expression planted. (name) shrugged as she sat across him, “my treat, silly.” she beamed another smile at him.

five was hesitant, but took the fork from beside the plate and started digging in. his eyes grew wide at the taste, it was delicious. it felt like being home again. “it’s mom’s recipe. nobody really calls her mom besides me, they make fun of me for it.” she giggled lightly.

five looked at her, “it’s really good.” after five finished he put the fork on the plate and put it away. “thank you! also, i’m very sorry for this five.” she cackled a little more, a confused five realized his mistake and stood up, the girl began fighting him.

she attempted to punch him on the side of his face, but he dodged it with his forearm. he returned the attacked with a kick to her face, blood oozing out of her might-be broken nose. she laughed, impressed, wiping the blood off with her fingers. they began fighting more, to which people inside had run off and evacuated.

(name)’s boss continued to yell at her to stop, but (name) knew damn well she wasn’t going to stop. she hit five in the stomach with her knee, five hunching over, and (name) continued with a back-kick on the side of his face. five coughed before pushing her into the table.

“you fight real good, for a seventeen year old.” she spat the blood out of her mouth on the floor. “and you fight really weak for a girl who can manipulate light.” five time-jumped on the table she’d collided her back with, and tried to kick her once again on the face, but to his surprise only met a blinding light.

and once five was distracted trying to find his vision again, (name) pulled his feet out to get him on his back. five landed with a thud! the pain rising from the bottom of his ass to his back. “lunch is served!” her laugh echoed across the diner. five time-jumped again, under the counter.

(name) looked for him, her platforms clanking on the ground. “where are you five? we’re not done here yet, grump.” she sang, another laugh escaping her lips. she spat another puddle of blood out of her mouth. five panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

this girl was crazy. how could she be laughing at a time like this? and how was it that she was killer fighter? “come on five, you going soft on me hargreeves?” she walked the place around a little bit more. is that why diego and allison looked that bad after the fight back at the mansion? because of her?

“there you are handsome.”

[thedevilrisen]

Concrete Impressions

Quinn x Reader!oc

Word Count: 1.3

Authorial Note: I hope you like it! This is basically the precursor fic to Cradle Me! I am making this an au, this is a little bit on how Quinn and Cookie meet! I will be making a part two to this fic!

TW: Not edited, swearing.

The day Quinn encountered you was the day he knew there was no one else for him. It was a warm autumn day on campus, though there was a significant breezing blowing with a spiteful chill. Your brown hair was tucked away in a neat plait down your back, a brown wide- ribbed sweater overlapping your dark patterned jeans which were rolled up over the top of your sneakers. You were waiting at the coffee cart, behind half-a-dozen people in line for their daily sustenance as well. Quinn watched from a table where he was placed, surrounded by a large group of his friends... well of some them were, other acquaintances, such as the sophomore girl who was trying desperately to giggle her way under his skin formed the majority of the numbers in the group. As you inched closer to the little counter at the front of the cart a blonde man, clearly impatient bumped into you. Quinn watched with wide eyes as you toppled over, books in hand spilling onto the dirty brick footpath.

Quinn had watched the young man who, essentially bumped you from your place in the line, stepped up to the vendor and ordered his drink. It troubled Quinn deeply that this young man had little to no regard for what he had done, or who he had done it too. At this point in time you didn't even know Quinn existed, or that he had singlehandedly decided that he need to know you, know if you could be the one. Because as he watched you part your hair from you face, tucking the unruly strands behind your ears as you pulled yourself and your books up from the ground, brushing the debris off your knees, Quinn knew that he needed to be the prince in your fairytale.

"Quinny! Where are you going!" the blonde girl, previously wrapping herself around his arm, nuzzling into his shoulder whined. This drew some attention from other members of the group, the watched as Quinn peeled the girl from his arm and quickly half walked, half jogged to where you were still trying to fix yourself up.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Quinn crouched down next to you, when you looked up at him, wide caramel eyes and a charismatic smile on your face he swear he almost melted.

"Oh! Yeah.. yes." you puffed out with a small laugh, "Just a bit of a topsy terby morning!"

Quinn was amazed at your optimism, it seemed like you were going to let the little situation upset the rest of your day. "Could I buy you a coffee?"

"Oh! You do not have to do that, I was purely just trying to get a small caffeine hit before my next class." you spoke, slinging your bag onto your shoulder, "Maybe even one of their amazing double fudge brownie cookies."

Quinn's lips tipped up in a small smile, "Don't ya think all of that chocolate is a-"

"Bit sweet?" you cut him off and Quinn nodded, letting out a breathy laugh, "I know. I love it though, especially when they heat it so the inside is all gooey!"

"I take it you like sweet things?" Quinn asked.

"You could say that!" you giggled back at him in response, stepping forward in line to the front, Quinn following beside you as you turned to the barista who was holding a cup and nico pen ready to take your order. "Could I please have.. a dirty chai on almond? Would you like anything?"

Quinn was surprised when she turned and asked if he wanted something, he stumbled out, “I’ll have a flat white.. two shots, two sugars please.”

Quinn smiles to himself airily, ‘she’s as gracious she is courteous.’ After shaking off his daze he spoke, “Didn’t you also want one of those… death by chocolate cookies?”

“Oh yes! Could I please have one of your double chocolate brownie cookies?” you asked, “Could you heat it up too please?”

The barista nodded and turned away to make your coffees and to retrieve the fabled cookie. Standing there Quinn realised he didn’t actually know your name, nor what you were studying. Just that you liked cookies and had a killer sweet tooth.

“So Cookie, do you have a name or am I gonna have to call ya that?” Quinn stated, breaking the ice.

“My name is Y/N, but you can call me Cookie if you would like stranger.” Y/N smiled back, eyes gleaming with humour.

“My name is Quinn.” He corrected. “You mentioned having class soon? Can I ask what you have?”

“Well Quinn.. I have modern history next.” You spoke, quietly thanking the barista as she passed over the two coffees and the box holding chocolate lava-y goodness. Together the both of you gravitated away from the cart, moving back in the direction of where Quinn was originally sitting. The group still crowding the tables.

“With Professor Ryan?” Quinn questioned hopefully, he had modern history next as well, was this his lucky day?

“Yeah! In the Carsledine building!” You took a sip of the steaming beverage in your hand, the other still holding the cookie box to your chest.

”I have MH too! Would you want to sit together in his lecture?” Quinn leaned over and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, exchanging a Quick handshake with a mate of his.

“Sure! I don’t normally sit with anyone but.. I guess things can change.” Y/N smiled, walking alongside with Quinn through the campus courtyard, taking note of the amount of female attention he received.

Quinn let Cookie slide in the door before he did, holding it open for her as she stepped into the expansive lecture hall. He followed her small frame as she nimbly weaved her way through the rows of fold up chairs. Cookie approached the the left side of the lecture hall, the wall was interrupted by a humongous window, offering an extensive view over the rest of the campus. Rain clouds hung low today, dew covered the bare branches of the deciduous trees. Quinn sat down next to her, he admired her gorgeous face as she pulled her iPad out of her bag. Quinn noted the way she meticulously set up her note taking page with her screen pen, placing in all the text boxes and writing headings out. She pulled a keyboard attachment out of her bag, navy coloured too. Being around you Quinn's gaze sharpened and his body longed to know every detail he could, like the fact that navy appeared to be a favoured colour. The glasses that you had delicately slid onto the bridge of your nose were a deep shade of navy blue with gold arms. The scrunchie you were tucking your long shimmering hair into a ponytail with. Your phone case, iPad case and keyboard as well as the colour of the ink she wrote onto the digital page with were all the same blue.

"Do you like sports?" Quinn had one channel of small talk he could always revert back too, and he was damned sure he was going to use it.

"I don't mind sports!" Cookie replied, looking up from the screen she was writing on, "I like skiing, cross country specifically none of that moguls business. I also run too, cross country as well!"

"Are you on the track and field team?" he asked, curious.

"I am! I captain the track team!" Cookie looked over at Quinn again, waving silently to the professor who had walked in. "What about you?"

"I play Ice Hockey." Quinn spoke, he wished to play his cards right. If he did so, maybe he could get her to a game. "I'm projected to draft in the first round of the NHL entry. I fly out to Dallas with my family in about a month and a half for it."

Cookie smiled, a little bewildered, "That is seriously awesome! Congratulations!"

For the first time Quinn didn't get that rolling feeling in his gut after telling someone where he was projected to go. Y/N took it with so much grace, she didn't pester him about it, she didn't instantly try to suck up and seduce him. She just accepted it. Congratulated him and seemed like she genuinely cared.

Holy fuck. Is this what being in love feels like?

[sopiao]

könig who is absolutely head over heels for you.

talks about you so much that you’re surprised when his comrades knows quite a bit about you when you drop in for a brief visit.

goes on various and long tangents and rambles about you, sometimes he just forgets he’s talking to other people and just continues his ramble in German.

which leaves his comrades and teammates confused but not wanting to disturb his babbling and just leave him to talk to himself at this point. it’s not until later, in the middle of the night, that he realizes it.

most of his mates can’t even believe him whenever he talks and describes his lover, how sweet they are, the funny interactions and moments they have, and just how drop dead gorgeous you are.

König gets slightly offended but understands that sometimes not even he could believe it that he has such and amazingly beautiful and wonderful partner.

“Know what? I call them right now”

and when you pick up, replying on you laptop that’s sitting on your bed next to you while laying down in nothing but a black tank and his grey sweats (that you love to see him wear), their jaws drop.

“Hallo, leibling!”

“Hey, Ko!”

not only are they just stunningly gorgeous, their voice is just so comforting and energizing to hear. they all just stay quite and witness the conversation between the two.

in the middle of the conversation he just forgets that he called them for the sole reason to prove to his friends that you’re real, and he just skips himself to his room and plops himself on his bed like he’s on cloud nine.

i like to think that this 6’10, pure muscle of a man lays on his stomach and kicks his feet in the air when he talks to you or when he hears you talk, maybe even twirl a lock of hair in his finger.

when you drop by the base to go give him a quick visit before you have to leave for engineering college, both plans overlapping, so you won’t be available when he gets out.

he’s happily waiting by the entrance, rocking himself back and forth on his heels with his arms behind his back, as he bounces with excitement.

when your large truck parks and you hop out of the car, not even bothering to turn off the car, as you run up and meet König in the middle in a snake trap of a hug. tightly snaking his arms around you, as he spins you around. Price and Soap laughing at the very visible height and size difference between the two.

when the large Austrian man let you down back on the gravel road.

you barely reached his chest.

the 141 found it cute and quite wholesome that you had to pull him down by his vest and you pushing yourself up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the nose.

when König finally formally introduced you to his teammates, you were very much like him, shy and introverted. König was quite comfortable with them so he was happy to be your voice to them.

the rest of the boys were stunned and slightly nervous as well. hands shaking or face blushing when you individually shook each of their hands, but they still gave you a warm and inviting welcome.

even when their in the common room, either talking or planning their next plan of action for an upcoming undercover mission.

but of course König was more occupied with you, of course, there were no other seats (lie) so you had to sit on his lap, his hands either wrapped around your middle or resting on your hips.

when you both thought that no one was looking or paying attention to you two, you would look up at your boyfriend and he’d cover both of you under his sniper hood to give you a quick peck on the lips and a nuzzle his nose against yours.

omfg

when you sit normally back on his lap and he looks back up to his comrades, and sees all of his friends staring that their with a teasing smirk or a ‘really?’ face. They both covered their face in embarrassment, showing how similar they both are.

no doubt that Soap and Price are teasing the two when they both sleepily walk into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, König walking in shirtless instead it’s on your sleepy figure. jokes and jabs are thrown at the sleepy couple as König just waves them off as he leans against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee as he wraps his arms around you while you lean your back against his chest.

they didn’t really mind you being there, they were happy to see their teammate so happy and energetic, much different from how quiet he is.

when you do leave since you can’t stay for long, he stays on call for you all night while you drive, wanting to make the most of it. he knows he’ll be tired in the morning. but for you? worth it.

by the time it’s 3:52 AM he’s on the verge of drifting off into deep sleep, muttering and mumbling responses, 90% of them not even being in english or coherent german.

you called him to try and keep you awake during your drive, but just knowing he’s there on the other side of the line is enough to keep you content. it’s all about quality time.

[libbyfandom]

Let’s take a look inside Modern!Mizu’s Camera Roll! Featuring Reader and BES Characters (Companion Piece)

Screenshot of an undercut with long hair.

Screenshot of a wolf cut.

Picture of her tv screen showing her new high score at a video game. (To rub it in Taigen’s face that she beat his)

Her hand cupping the back of a pretty neck covered in hickeys.

Akemi death-gripping a trash can with her face buried into it as she hurls. The rollercoaster Mizu forced her on is in the background.

Selfie of her and her adoptive father at a baseball game. (She couldn’t get him to smile. He only hummed, which made her laugh)

Video of you asleep on her, your head on her shoulder and your hand curled up on her chest. Her fingers are gently brushing the side of your face for a minute, before your eyebrows pinch in sleep. You make a soft, stressed noise unconsciously. Her lips press to your temple for a long moment. “Shh shh shh.” Your expression relaxes again, and she goes back to gently stroking your cheek.

The full moon.

A video of Ringo coming up silently behind you and Akemi while you're standing in line at a coffee shop. You two turn around and nearly jumps out of your skin when you sees him. (He's always so silent)

Screenshot of a quote “How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become? -Doc Lubel”.

Her torn up jeans and bloodied outer thigh as she sits in the grass along the road, her crashed motorcycle in the background.

A video of her holding your wrists down in bed, oh so slowly pressing kisses all over your chest where she yanked your top up to your collarbone. Every once in a while she bites into your skin without warning, gripping your wrists tighter when your body arches and tries to twitch away with broken whines. She waits each time for you to stop moving, staring intensely up at you with your skin between her teeth, before she licks at the bite to soothe it away and restarts the cycle.

Video of her sitting on her bed practicing knife flipping.

Her hand holding a book titled "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

A close up of the price tag of the book "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

Saved selfie Ringo sent of the two of them on a hike.

Screenshot of a dinner reservation confirmation for two at a new restaurant downtown.

Video of Akemi in the middle of some rant in Mizu and Ringo’s living room. The darkness outside the window suggests it’s very late into the night. She gestures wildly at something off camera. “-and Taigen pees in the fucking shower-!” Taigen’s voice comes from somewhere off camera, loud and offended. “I aim for the drain!” You sit in the background behind Akemi, looking disturbed and distressed.

Screenshot of piercings. (For the wish list people are asking for)

A gif of a character going “Some god damn peace and quiet”. (For the wish list people are asking for)

The ocean.

Saved video Ringo sent of you two at the beach bonfire. You’re cuddled up into each other while sitting against a log, your legs overlapping hers. You’re both staring into the fire, absentmindedly playing with each others fingers where you’re holding hands on your lap. She’s never looked more relaxed.

You and Akemi in the backseat asleep on the drive back from the beach.

Saved photo you sent her of her and her adoptive father playing chess. Her brows are furrowed as she thinks over her next move, sitting properly with her hands in her lap. This is instead of how she usually plays with one leg propped up on her chair and elbow leaning on her knee when she plays with Akemi.

The one nice photo of just her and Taigen, posing in a big mirror at a dark, more upscale restaurant wearing suits.

Screenshot of receipt for two concert tickets on your birthday.

Ringo laying head down on a pile of finals notes in defeat at the library.

Screenshot of a text you sent of a grocery list.

A video in her “Hidden” folder that is 37 minutes long and requires a password that only she and you know.

Screenshot of the word “Bitch” in Barbie pink font.

You curled up on the couch fast asleep, wearing Mizu’s oversized college sweatshirt.

Saved photo Ringo sent of Mizu standing in the bathtub making a peace sign with one gloved hand as the other holds Akemi’s newly dyed and wet burgundy hair while Akemi is seen leaning over the tub so Mizu can rinse out the excess dye.

A picture of her hand holding an engagement ring nestled inside a green velvet box. She wanted Akemi’s opinion. So she’ll stop having an anxiety attack over what she picked.

[an0nymousmessenger]

When the Sun Rises Again

Five Hargreeves x Reader Synopsis: In which you see a familiar boy with a mannequin at a park after saving the world. Word Count: 2.7k tags. Fluff, Comfort, s4 epilogue continued, more than friends less than lovers A/n: A little continuation of the epilogue of when you see Delores in the end credits with an unidentified person ao3 link

On August 8, 2024, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. It would be no exaggeration to say that this day was completely normal. The sun was shining, and the weather was the best it had been in a long time.

The wind blew gently, rustling the nearby trees and bushes in this small sanctuary.

It was a nice afternoon in August, perfect for people enjoying their outings at a small, lesser-known park. Picnics dotted the grassy areas, and people strolled together, enjoying each other's company.

Laughter filled the air as children chased each other in a harmless game of tag. A couple walked their dog, deep in conversation. Nearby, a man led a meditation session among a group, while a woman sat with her daughter, braiding her hair.

The moment seemed fragile and almost unreal, at least to the eyes of the newcomer. It was a tranquility you weren’t quite used to, and you found yourself struggling to take it all in. Still, you continued forward, focused on one main objective.

You passed the meditating group, the mother and daughter, and many other familiar faces you didn't dare acknowledge. Everything seemed to slow, as if memories from a past time were beginning to overlap.

In the midst of all this, by a rather old but beautiful tree, a few gentle marigolds grew from within the ground, sprouting out enchantingly, showing off their petals to the world. They shined golden, and perhaps with a little magic too.

You took your hands in the pockets of your light jacket as you walked casually with your new sneakers through the grass.

Eventually, you stopped in your tracks, and stared at a specific pair, glowing in the summer’s light. You hesitated, your breath caught up in your throat as some unfamiliar feeling began to bubble in your chest, threatening to overspill.

You wondered if it would be okay to disturb them, questioning whether you should just stay still and take in the scene a little longer. Just for a while. After all, time was on your side this time.

You squinted, fighting against the bright summer glare.

You looked onward, afraid that if you closed your eyes even for a second, the scene in front of you would disappear—that the feeling of the wind and sun had been just your imagination. That the boy sitting there with a gentle expression, one you’d only seen a few times in your life, would vanish with the wind. Fleeting, and brief.

As if he were never there.

A sweet but deceiving dream.

Even if it were a dream, you would be satisfied because, to you, everything was fine. Everything was as it should be.

But alas, the tangy summer scent was real, and the reality you were currently walking through was undeniably real.

So incredibly real.

It was terrifying.

The sun’s warmth shone generously on the pair—a boy who seemed to be in his teens, accompanied by a rather unique mannequin that only had its upper body. They sat at a plain table, enjoying each other’s company.

The boy held a newspaper in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. Another cup sat by an empty seat, while the mannequin rested by a nearby tree.

At first glance, it almost seemed as if the two were having a pleasant conversation. The boy looked relieved, his shoulders relaxed, legs crossed in comfort as his dark eyes browsed the weekly news.

It seemed as if he had no worries on his mind, no stress or problems weighing on him. Although his eyes still carried that tired look. It was a look not commonly found in the kids his age. Some would even go on to suggest his eyes give off the feeling the boy was much older than he let on.

But even if that were true, they had nothing to prove such a statement.

You took in this sight with a little sigh, a mental click, as if forcing yourself to capture this moment and lock it away in your heart, hiding it carefully from the world before anything else tried to take it away.

Just in case.

Just for safe measure.

You looked around again before making your way toward the empty seat opposite the newspaper-reading boy. He wore a plain white collared shirt, the top buttons undone, paired with simple dark shorts, giving him a youthful yet old-fashioned look.

As you approached, the boy noticed you and looked up, raising a questioning brow, which greatly amused you.

You gave a small smile before asking in a rather level voice, “Is anyone sitting here?”

“Well, it’s not exactly occupied, now is it?”

A familiar tone of dryness, tinted with a grain of sarcasm, dripped from the boy’s reply.

Your smile grew as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and gestured toward the seat. “Then do you mind?”

The boy, usually armed with harsh and sharp remarks, shook his head.

You sat down and picked up the cup, noticing that it contained your favorite drink, as if the boy in front of you knew something you didn’t. As if he had almost expected you to come and find him.

You brought the cup to your mouth, took a sip, then another, before gingerly setting it down back upon the table, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. Then, you took another look around.

This time, your attention was mainly on the boy in front of you, who seemed a little out of place in such a peaceful setting. The wind gently tousled his hair and rustled his shirt, causing him to clutch the newspaper a little tighter, pretending to be uninterested.

You decided to also pretend you didn’t notice his occasional glances toward you. You pretended you didn’t notice the searching look in his eyes, a habit he tended to have when he hadn’t seen you in a while. A habit of his that you would keep to yourself, hidden away from the dangers of the world.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

The boy sighed, looking away while taking a sip of his black coffee. “If you say so.”

You leaned against the table, one arm supporting one side of your face as you put on what he dubbed your ‘shit-eating grin’. “Why don’t you play with the kids over there? You know, kids your age.”

With a sharp, unamused glare, he responded, "I'd rather chew on concrete," his voice flat and unamused.

You huffed in your seat. “Somehow, even on such a nice day, you still manage to make it old and boring.”

"Maybe if you raised your standards, you’d actually appreciate reading the newspaper and having a simple drink while at it. But I won’t hold my breath."

“Prick.”

“Amateur.”

You sat up, narrowing your eyes. “Hey, says the one who looks like a–”

“One more word and I’ll have you up in that tree over there.”

“...”

You smirked, leaning in. “As if you could stand being apart from my charming company.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Aren’t we full of ourselves today?”

“What? Can’t I enjoy myself on such a lovely morning?”

He scoffed, glancing away from your teasing expression, and mumbled under his breath, “I suppose some people have to.”

You look at the boy, the way he was looking away from you as the tips of his ears turn a slight red. You twirl the cup in your hands that contains your preferred drink, the one you usually order when out and about, and can’t help but think to yourself:

What a liar.

Though, you guess you’ll cut the boy some slack, he after all has worked quite hard for way too many years to count. You’ll let him have this one, just this one.

And so, instead of teasing him anymore, you rest your hand on your elbows and stare at the scenery of the park, soaking in his presence and the fact that he is finally here with you.

He was here safe and sound.

Ah. You suppose you were both liars.

“You're doing it again,” spoke the boy out of the blue.

You turned towards him with a cheeky smile, “What exactly am I doing?”

“That ridiculous face.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue, “Bleh,”

He gave you a disgusted look as if he couldn’t believe you’d done something so childish, but you couldn’t care less. After everything you’d both been through, you deserved to indulge in such small matters.

Certainly, it was not the end of the world, was it?

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “I can’t believe I somehow have to put up with you…”

And yet, he made no attempt to move. Instead, he seemed to settle even more comfortably into his park chair.

You paused for a moment, taking in his ‘I’m seriously done with you’ expression before adding, “Yeah, and I’m a grumpy teenager who’s emotionally constipated in apparently every timeline.”

The boy shot you an unamused glare. “I'm not.”

"Yeah, you are."

"Idiot."

His retort was lacking in bite, something you’d come to recognize as his way of showing that he couldn’t find anything harsher to say.

“Fine! Then ask her,” you said, pointing at the mannequin beside him.

The boy let out an exasperated sigh, clearly used to your antics, before turning toward the object of your pointing.

“Delores doesn’t think so.”

"Oh yeah? Is that what she really said?"

He put on a sly grin. "Why don't you ask her yourself and find out?"

You turned toward the mannequin, playing along. "Has he been mistreating you while I've been away?"

He took a sharp breath, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "How dare you insinuate such an outrageous—"

“Oh, you’ll live,” you muttered as you took another sip from the cup.

“Prick.”

“Ass.”

“Annoying.”

“...”

You and he shared a small staring contest before you broke into a fit of laughter. The childish insults hadn’t been lost on either of you despite the years. Even with his usual sharp and witty remarks, it seemed that your banter had devolved into a playful exchange, bringing you both back to simpler times.

He looked at you with an exasperated expression, but couldn’t hide the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.

But of course, you were unable to see this, too caught up in your own little laugh. This also caused you to miss the way he had briefly looked at you, as if he too were saving this moment in his mind, causing his usually sharp persona to soften, if only slightly. He’d never admit it, not in a hundred years.

The laughter died down, and you noticed the silence that settled over you. You looked up at the boy, finding him already looking at you. A comfortable silence enveloped the three of you, including the mannequin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft smile.

And he looked at your smile, one that he would never tell you that it made him want to look away as a burning feeling crept up his ears. He’ll never tell you he noticed the light in your eyes as you did so, the way your eyes looked at him made him feel some sort of way. He’ll never tell you it was that smile, along with everything else, that had him crawling through time to get back to you, to see it again.

To see you and his family again, alive and well.

He’ll never tell you that he missed that smile, and he often wondered when he would see it again. He would never tell you that he had gone to your favorite coffee shop and bought two drinks instead of one, he’ll never tell you he had been sitting here all morning, waiting.

Instead, you two simply shared the silence in the distance.

Perhaps at another time, you would do something about this silence, you would reach out, and touch upon all the things you two were too afraid to say.

Perhaps one day, this silence would allow the two of you to be vulnerable without hesitation and caution. And perhaps one day, you’ll be able to reach over to take and take his hand in yours, to invite him to dance with you in the late of night or rain. You’ll both wear a smile, perhaps a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless, and you’ll both be listening to the best 90s bangers of the ages on an old record player.

But at least for today, the two of you will take your time.

Because today, you’d enjoy each other’s presence and the trivial banter. After all, you had all the time in the world.

It had been a while since you last bickered with the boy, much less joked and laughed. It was nice. 

Really nice.

Was it sad to say that this was all you ever wanted? To sit down, share a drink, and talk about useless and stupid things? That you wouldn’t trade this for the world, that you would fight to keep this moment in your hands.

The boy looked back at you before straightening his newspaper, effectively regaining your attention.

“Stop zoning out.”

“My bad.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of how he didn’t go through all that shit just for you to start staring into space and feeling sad or whatnot.

Your foot brushed against his for a brief moment. At first, you meant to pull it back, but instead, you left it there to gauge his reaction. He didn’t move his foot away, and you couldn’t tell if he was ignoring it or deliberately letting it stay there.

You stare at him, silently, before a question tumbles its way from your mind and to your lips, “Are you happy?”

The question lingered in the air between the two of you, like an untouched subject that none of you had dared to ask in the past. It was out of reach back then, and there had been much more pressing things to be worrying about.

And maybe, just maybe, that between you and him, one of these days you can truly rest. It’ll be a day just like today, and the distance between the two of you will be like a distant memory, and you can once again lean on him, as you had always done, and he can melt into you, as he had once done before.

The boy looked away from you and into the distance, observing the lively park as the sun enveloped him in the warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Nothing was out of the ordinary—if you didn’t count the teenage-looking boy drinking coffee with his mannequin and the newspaper he was reading in the middle of a park.

He looked down and smiled, the sun gently caressing his features as a genuine smile graced his face, but of course, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t try to hide it as he answered in a soft uncharacteristic voice, “Yeah…yeah I am.”

You looked at him, seeing the way he was trying to hide his emotions, and rolled your eyes. It seemed no matter the time or place, he was still the same, and for that, you couldn’t have asked for more.

Perhaps, in a way, this meant the future was bright. That a time would come when this tranquility, so unfamiliar now, would become all you know. Even if today was just the beginning.

You took another sip from the cup and smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Extra.

"Hey, you should tell me where you got these drinks."

"What now?"

He rolled his eyes, feigning uninterest.

"Seriously! I know you bought these for me."

He continued flipping through the pages of the newspapers.

"Oh, did I? And what if I said they’re for Delores?"

You held up the drink.

"Delores prefers lattes, not this."

"Does she? How fascinating."

"Prick!"

He set the newspaper aside and gave you an amused look.

“Fine. I’ll take you there next time. Happy now?”

You don’t point out that this was his way of admitting he did buy the drinks with you in mind, but you’re too content to press the issue. You decided to let him off the hook... again.

[tayfabe75]

hi. Just wondering if you have seen the last couple of concerts that were streamed and what you think about Matty feeling quite down. Do you still think there is any hope for him and taylor to be back together

I'm going to preface this (probably) controversial take by first explaining that I think Matty is someone who, while touring, is lucky to be utterly surrounded by loved ones. From his bandmates to his manager, the personal friends he's enlisted to handle the merch, lighting, stage production, etc, even the security guys seem quite close with Matty. If the man was truly struggling with poor mental health, he has a giant support network at his fingertips. Trust me, if you can tell Matty is upset from a grainy livestream, the ones on and behind the stage can, too - and they care, even more than me or you! Because they know him, truly know him, in a way that fans never could, no matter how many times they listen to his albums or watch his interviews. He's good! Or, if he's not, he will be soon, because he's got his boys!

All that said… I'm going to draw attention to something else Matty said while on stage:

"Even in an earnest moment, you should always be suspicious."

And so, I remain suspicious! If Matty appears upset on stage, it's either one of two things: 1) tour is ending, or 2) he wants to appear upset. He once said this about ATVB:

"It's a show that feels pretty loose, but it's actually very, very tight. It's very, very well-rehearsed."

I know the generally accepted fan take is that Matty is just too ADHD to follow through with anything and gave up whatever his plans for the show were supposed to be... But what if the plan was always to make it look like he was really going through it for the duration of SATVB? Upset, distracted, struggling. He even preemptively warned of this emotional shift:

"If you see me sliding over the next six months, I appreciate it, but don't worry about it."

Of course, if Matty has truly been experiencing mental turmoil in his personal life that has since spilled into his professional life, I wish him all the best and hope he finds time and space to heal, but I trust that he's in very good hands if that's the case. After all, he assured us that the boys (his chosen family, if you will) would die for each other if it came down to it!

But, if all is as it seems and Matty truly lost Taylor last June… and if his upset during the last handful of SATVB shows was somehow connected to that loss all these months later… I would point you to the 'Oh Caroline' video, which shows what will become of him if he gets the ending he had hoped to avoid… (ie: if he got it "wrong")

He still ends up with his boys! That's not so bad, is it? Do you happen to know how many folks out there dream of growing old with either Ross, George, or Adam? A whole bunch. And all three? Matty, you lucky dog!

For me, the more likely explanation is that absolutely everything has been orchestrated from start to finish. The tour may have concluded, but the show must go on. So, yes! I would bet money on Matty finding his way back to Taylor. And by the time he does, I even suspect the tides will have turned in his favor following whatever devastation awaits us in TTPD. We'll see!

But... how curious that a pair of artists who have both romanticized star-crossed love stories... should end up in one of their own! Luckily for us, Taylor didn't like the ending of Romeo and Juliet, so she changed it. Thanks for the ask! 🤍

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The evening shift is quiet. You don’t mind the low din of the atrium. The cafe offers the only light to the empty lobby. Hours ago, it was a rush of bodies and voices, now, the shops have closed down and the sign above you remains lit as the sole beacon in the business plaza. 

The slower hours are more routine than the frantic mornings filled with early risers desperate for their first dose of caffeine. You did a few weeks of that before you hopped on the evening’s rota. It gives you time to read between baking and cleaning. 

The front doors open and close, echoing through the space. It’s eerie this late at night but you it doesn’t bother you as much as it once does. The footsteps that follow add to the unease of their approach. You recognise the man by his silhouette. 

The marquee glow limns his harsh features, the stubble on his jaw adding to the sharp angles, his dark hair and brows give him a sinister slant. You smile as you stand from the stool and pour him a black coffee. You ring him up before he even gets to the counter. 

“Evening, sir,” you greet him. You still don’t know his name. All your other regulars like to chat. He doesn’t. “Black.” 

He flicks a card up between his index and middle fingers. The stamps across the rows add up to a free drink. You take it, brushing his calloused fingertips as you do. 

“Oh, a free drink. Exciting.” You cancel the transaction and slide his cup forward, “enjoy.” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. He moves to the other end of the kiosk and grabs a lid and sleeve. As he walks away, you bid him a good night. He never says much, if anything. 

You go back to sanitizing the frother. The work isn’t so dull when you have nothing else to do. The night wears on as the sky softens through the glass walls of the atrium   

Dayani arrives just before five to take over. You hand her the keys and balance the till before you go. She sends you off with the dread of the shift ahead. 

Out on the street, the lull remains. Not for much longer. The bus routes will pick up and the daily commuters will clog the streets. Your trek home is five blocks but not too bad considering. You share a loft with two other girls but you rarely run into them. You all work different shifts in different borroughs. 

Your room is at the rear of the old brick building. The legislated fire escape crosses your window and casts a shadow through the sheer curtains. You undress and unwind in your single bed. The room is small and not exactly worth the cost but it’s a roof over your head. 

You sleep until just after one. The city had you waking in spurts at the honk of an angry driver or the shouts of rowdy pedestrians. You eat the stale scone you claimed from work and have instant coffee to wash it down. 

You go through the usual. You wake up little by little and drag yourself out to the shower. You catch a glimpse of one of your roommates. Lottie barely seems to notice you as she carries a basket out the door. 

When you’re done washing up, you pull on your sweats and a loose tee. You waste some time watching TV on your phone then plug it in so you have some juice left when you leave. You eat a microwaved tray of pasta and change into your uniform. You do up your hair and face, nothing too much, and count the minutes until you’re due to leave. 

As exciting as the city can be, you can’t afford that part of it. You work, you sleep, you get by. 

Xander has an hour overlap with you before he goes. He tells you about all his midterms and the party he wants to ditch his studying for. It’s only an elective course anyway. He leaves in indecision. 

You never finished school. You did one year and dropped out. You did well enough but you couldn’t afford it. Not even the local community college in your hometown. Funny, you still came all the way out here to scrape pennies. 

The last rush of the day passes through. Those on the way to their own overnight shifts; security guards, hotel clerks, and all others. 

The silence sets in. You play around on your phone. The battery dies a lot quicker lately so you make yourself quiet the matching game and put it in your pocket. You pull out the novel you keep hidden behind the till and read until the door opens and closes. 

Same time, same man. His black hair swallows up the light of the sign above as you pour his coffee. You get him a new card and stamp it, handing it over with your usual smiling nicety. Still no response. He goes to grab his lid and sleeve. 

You wait patiently. He doesn’t march off like usual. You peek over as he strides along the counter. He drops a bill in the tip jar. You thank him. Still no answer. 

He walks off and you look in the cup. You can’t believe it. You snatch up the bill and push through the door at the side of the kiosk. You hurry after his shadow. 

“Sir, sir, I think you made some mistake--” the door closes heavily and his figure passes outside the glass panels. You can’t go that far without locking up. Oh well, he’ll be back tomorrow and you can let him know. 

You walk back to the cafe stand and dip back behind. You unfold the hundred dollar bill. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a joke. Looks pretty real when you hold it up to the light. 

[munson-blurbs]

I would actually LOVE to read about the proposal! How did it go down? Was Harris there? I think a blurb about that would be really special :)

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: A lazy Sunday morning turns into something much more special, thanks to your two favorite guys.

Warnings: pretty much none, just proposal fluff and a smidge of suggestive language at the end

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The proposal/Harris calling Ms. Sweetheart "mommy" was also requested by @hippiefairy02, @cheesewritings, @enam3l, @peachysink, and a handful of anons!

March 1998

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

Harris’s soft voice doesn’t carry over the sounds of running water and the sponge squelching soap bubbles along the lip of a coffee mug, the remnants of a lazy Sunday morning breakfast. He clears his throat and tries again, tugging on the back of your bathrobe as he shouts.

“Ms. Sweetheart?!”

You jump, pulled from your own thoughts, nearly dropping the cup among the sea of dishes cluttering the sink. Eddie had made scrambled eggs and toast for the three of you; a gesture you’d thoroughly enjoyed until you realized that the clean-up fell on your shoulders.

“Jeez, Har. What’s the emergency?” You catch your breath, allowing your heart rate to settle back to a normal rhythm, and shut off the faucet.

Harris wrinkles his nose, the bridge creasing in confusion. “There’s no ‘mergency,” he says, releasing his grasp and motioning for you to follow him. “I gotta show you something.”

You oblige with a soft laugh, haphazardly grabbing a dish towel to wipe the suds from your hands and wrists, and let him lead you to the kitchen table. Crayons are strewn across it, blues and purples and reds intermingled around his artwork. 

“Whatcha drawing?” you ask, hands bracing the back of the chair he’s plopped down on. You peer over his shoulder and smile. It’s a picture of you, Eddie, and him. A full-fledged kindergartener, he’s been adding more details to his stick-figure family portraits: a vase of wildflowers sits atop a sienna oval table, black squares and rectangles above it represent the various photo frames hanging on the kitchen wall. This picture looks different than Harris’s usual set-up; he typically draws himself in the middle of you and Eddie, each of his hands overlapping yours and his dad’s. Today, he’s drawn you, then Eddie, then him. And your hands aren’t linked; instead, he’s used a silver crayon to place something in Eddie’s cartoon palm.

You furrow your brows and gesture towards the mystery object. “What’s that, Har?” It’s better not to guess, lest you say the wrong thing and inadvertently offend him. Just last week, you’d asked him if a small blue object in the sky was a bird, and he was on the verge of tears trying to explain that it was a UFO. 

“Can’t you see the alien?” he’d wailed, pointing to a little green dot you’d assumed was a rogue eye.

Now, Harris grins. “It’s a proposing ring!” he announces. “That’s why you’re smiling so big!” Sure enough, the curved line of sketch-you’s mouth extends to both cheeks. 

Real-you can’t help but mimic the beaming expression. Just the idea of Eddie proposing to you has you feeling giddy. You’d marry him tomorrow if you could; all he has to do is ask. Though your pulse quickens at the thought, you don’t want to build up Harris’s hopes for something that may not happen for a while. Pressing a kiss to his scalp with a soft giggle, you remark, “A proposing ring? That’s so silly!”

“Is it?”

The unexpected sound of Eddie’s voice has you whirling around, startled for the second time this morning. He’s still wearing his pajamas, flannel pants perfectly complementing your own cozy attire. He bites the inside of his lip, and when he takes your hand in his, you can feel it tremble slightly.

“Sweetheart, I…” he starts, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed an absurd amount of times. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Sweetheart, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night grateful for you. Never in my life did I think I would find someone who loved me the way you do; someone who loves my son like he’s their own.” He chokes up at the last part, blinking back the tears so he can press on. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I landed such an incredible, thoughtful, beautiful woman.”

You offer a small laugh, slightly easing his nerves, and he manages to smile. “You…you’re the love of my life, and my world is infinitely better with you in it,” he continues, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and sinking onto one knee. With shaky fingers, he opens the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond on a thin silver band. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god.” Elation and disbelief simultaneously surge through you, eyes going misty as the realization hits you. Eddie’s actually proposing. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to be your husband. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You’re laughing and crying, tears streaming down your cheeks; you sloppily wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Eddie stands up, the ring still in its case. You expect him to slide it onto your fourth finger; instead, he turns to Harris with a knowing expression. “Your turn, Har.”

Before you can question it further, Harris takes your hand in his, just like Eddie had. “Ms. Sweetheart,” he looks up at you with wide, exuberant eyes, “will you be my mommy?”

You scoop him up into your arms; he’s almost too tall for you to do it comfortably, and it pangs at your heart. “Yes, I will be your mommy, Harris!” You kiss his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, placing him back on the ground as he excitedly kicks his feet.

With that, Eddie puts the engagement ring on your finger triumphantly, pulling you in for a hug that squeezes the breath out of your lungs. His lips find yours without hesitation, kissing you as long as Harris will allow before the kid becomes impatient.

“Mommy?” The title rolls off of his tongue so easily, bringing with it fresh batches of tears for both you and Eddie. Mommy. You’re Harris’s mommy. The close bond you’ve already developed strengthens in that moment, and you vow to wear your badge of Chosen Mom with pride. 

“Yeah, Har?” 

“Can we celebrate with ice cream?”

“It’s, like, 9:30 in the morning,” Eddie laughs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even think Scoops Ahoy is open yet.”

Harris pouts but ultimately relents, on one condition. “Then…can we go when it opens?”

You look at Eddie, who delivers his seal of approval with a quick nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

As Harris cheers, you sneak a glimpse of the new jewelry adorning your finger. It daintily sparkles even under the kitchen lighting, a perfect depiction of your love for one another. 

Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “How’d I do?” he asks with a goofy, lopsided grin. “Is my future wife happy with her ring?”

You turn around, draping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, desperate for a moment of intimacy. “I love it. And I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And me?” pipes up a little voice. 

“Both of you,” you amend with a giggle. Pleased with your answer, Harris returns to his crayons and construction paper. 

Eddie’s voice is a melodic whisper in your ear. “After our family ice cream date, maybe you and I can celebrate a bit more privately?” You can practically hear his teasing smirk at the raunchy implication. 

“We can pick up champagne on the way home,” you murmur back, heat blossoming in your belly. You’re no longer just a girlfriend, but a fiancée, a future wife, and there is nothing else you crave more than the touch of your future husband. 

And while you and Eddie finish washing the dishes with a plethora of stolen kisses, Harris picks up a green crayon and titles his drawing, just like he’d learned in art class:

Mommy, Daddy, and Harris. 

--

[spideybatsy]

Late Night | Chapter two

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 2.4K Warnings: Although the reader is GN, they have female anatomy. With that clear - female and male masturbation (at different times), a bit of exhibitionism, and a blowie. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 I have never written smut before, so I hope it's enjoyable! Masterlist

Working for Wayne Enterprises had been going surprisingly well. Despite originally taking the job to make rent, you feel like you've settled right in. Your coworkers often invite you out on the weekends and you really enjoy spending time with them. Russell, the security guard downstairs, continues to chat you up when your shifts overlap. Even though he’s your type, you just aren’t interested in him and you’re not sure why. 

Okay, you know exactly why. It’s the exact same reason why you’re enjoying work so much. 

Bruce has been in almost every day you have, always taking the time out of his busy schedule to stop and talk with you. You’ve seen the magazines and tabloids about him but the real man is nothing like they say. Sure, he’s charismatic and incredibly good looking but he’s also hilarious and affectionate. 

Like, you haven’t had to bring dinner in since that fateful night a month ago. He either brings you into his office to eat with him or leaves something for you in the fridge. When it started happening you were worried about your coworkers being irritated by the blatant favouritism. Sure, the office was almost empty that late but you didn't want a target on your back.  When you brought it up with Bruce, he responded with a simple, “I’ll deal with it.” Meal vouchers have been passed out since. 

Coming into the kitchen, you were pleasantly surprised to find Bruce making coffee.

“Interesting,” you comment as you walk in.

Bruce hums, raising his eyebrows questionably.

“I didn’t know you knew how to,” you gesture at him.

“Make coffee?” He sounds borderline offended. “Of course I can. What do you think I am?”

“A billionaire with a butler at his beck and call.” You shrug playfully, “but what would I know?”

“More than most.” His deep voice does something to you.

A smile creeps up his face as he moves closer to you, towering over your shorter frame. You never really noticed how… big and strong he is. Sturdy. You could climb him like a-

Heat rises to your cheeks and you hope he doesn’t notice but he does. He always does. Rushing past him, you look away and start to fill the sink, trying to collect yourself. 

“I’m going to the ballet this weekend,” he pauses for a moment, panic flashing through his eyes. “Would you lik-”

“Hey, I’ve been thi-” Emily stops short. “Oh, I didn’t see you Mr Wayne. Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” Bruce’s business voice rears its head and you can’t help but look at him. He’s not smiling anymore and he looks almost irritated. “I was just about to head out anyway, have a good evening you two.”

His eyes meet yours and for a moment, they soften, his lip twitching up. Then he’s gone, leaving you two alone in the kitchen.

“I don’t think he knows my name,” Emily whispers, bringing her dirty cup over. 

“I’m sure he does,” you laugh. 

“I’m just saying, he never took me out for lunch.” 

You grin as you take the cup from her. “Maybe he was just avoiding you.”

“Maybe he just wants to see the good looking cleaner.” 

Your smile softens, as you plunge your hands into the dishwater. “I think he just needed a friend. Someone who sees him as more than Mr Wayne.” 

“And you’re that friend?” She stops and looks at you.

“I don’t know,” you pause. “I hope so.”

She glances at you, “And what if he wants more than that?” 

“More friends?” You ask mindlessly, hands scrubbing at the cup.

“Don’t be obtuse.”

You take a moment to really think, even though you know the answer. Everyone seemingly knows the answer. You’re not oblivious to the knowing looks that follow you everywhere you go.

Bruce leans on the wall outside the door, the two of you ignorant to his eavesdropping. He’s waiting with bated breath, desperate for confirmation that you feel half as attracted to him as he is to you.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Bruce can’t help but grin at Emily’s response. “Do you want to fuck him or not?”

“Of course I want to fuck him,” you blurt out. 

Bruce barely holds back a groan as his trousers suddenly grow tight. 

“Mmm, he does have the face of a god,” Emily comments.

You hum, continuing to wash up. 

“I bet his dick is-”

“As big and bulky as him,” you interrupt. 

Bruce can’t contain the sharp breath that leaves his lips, so loud it echoes off the walls. Before either of you can react, he hurries down the hallway and into his office, practically slamming the door.

You drop the cup into the sink, the water splashing your shirt. 

“Oh my God,” Emily’s hands are against her mouth. “Do you think that was him?”

“I-I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I hope not.”

“It might’ve been Fox.” She tries to reason, “he’s always here late.”

“He called in sick today.”

Emily swears under her breath, pacing through the kitchen. 

“You need to go into his office.”

“Me!” You yelp, pointing at her, “why should I have to go? You’re the one who started the conversation!”

“But you’re his friend,” she throws your previous statement back in your face. “He actually likes you!”

You huff and turn your back on her, thinking through your options. Someone needs to go and talk to him, squash it down before it turns into a big mess. Plus she’s not wrong, you’re definitely closer to him than she is.

“Fine,” you relent. “But if I lose my job, I’ll kill you.”

“Deal.” She nervously follows you to the door, the two of you peaking your heads out to look at the ominous office at the end of the hallway. Her hand comes up and pats you on the back “Good luck.”

—

God, he hasn’t been this horny since he was a teenager. Bruce has always had immaculate control, especially over something as trivial as his body. 

Yet here he is, fly down and cock in hand as he violently pumps to the memory of your words. You’d said it so quickly, effortlessly even. How often have you thought about his dick? Did you touch yourself while you did? 

He’s mid-stroke when he hears the gentle tapping against his office door. He ignores it for a moment, continuing as he replays your words in his head. Big and thick. Was that your preference? 

“Bruce, please.” 

Your words stop him dead in his tracks. He considers putting himself back in his pants but he’s so swollen it’s borderline painful. 

Carefully, he pulls his chair closer to his desk. Now there’s no way you could see what he’s doing under there. Giving his girth one final squeeze, he places his hands firmly on the desk and calls you in. 

His eyes immediately catch on the wet spots on your shirt, sticking to the tiniest bits of skin. 

“Bruce, I-I’m so sorry-” 

“What for?” He cuts you off.

“For what I said in the kitchen, I was just joking.” He can see the blood rush to your cheeks, your eyes suddenly studying his hands. 

Your name rolls off his tongue, “Look at me.”

The anxiety in your eyes is palpable as they meet his. Guilt suddenly floods his chest, almost drowning him in the tidal wave. How could he be doing this when you’re so upset? He should be comforting you, not stroking his dick to the thought of you.

“It��s fine, honestly.” He tries a gentle smile. “All you did was boost my already enlarged ego.”

“Y-Yeah?” Your eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Oh yeah, you could say my ego is big and bulky.”

His chest warms at your surprised laugh, “I’m so embarrassed.”

He reaches out for you, making sure to use his untainted hand to hold your own.

“You already have lots of embarrassing blackmail material for me, I think it’s only fair.” 

“Thank you.” You smile and take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. 

“No problem,” he returned the smile and squeezes. “Now get back to work, I wouldn’t want to reprimand you.”

Bruce can’t help but stare at your ass as you walk out of his office, closing the door behind you. Waiting a minute to make sure the coast is clear, he pushes his seat back and looks at himself. His head is red and angry, leaking precum down his designer suit.

As bad as he feels, he can’t endure it any longer. He thrusts into his hand, hips angling until he’s biting back moans and cumming into a tissue. 

—

There’s something peaceful about being alone in the office, especially in the middle of the night. Even the bustling city seems sleepy beneath you, everything muffled and far away. You don’t miss the big bat symbol amongst the clouds, it’s on almost every night. Although you hope you’ll never need his help, knowing he’s there always brings you comfort. 

Bruce’s office is the only one left to clean and then you’re cleared to go home. You can’t help but chuckle as you remember what happened in this office only an hour ago. It seemed silly to be so stressed, of course he was going to take it in his stride.

But, if you’re being honest, you’re a little disappointed that he brushed it off. Part of you hoped he’d take you words for what they were and make a move. That was just wishful thinking. Bruce could have anyone he wanted, so why would he settle for you?

Something falls out of Bruce’s bin while you’re emptying it, landing right in front of you feet. Without thinking, you pick it up to throw it away. It’s squishy texture catching your attention. You don’t know why, but you feel compelled to open it. 

It’s full of pale white goo, it almost looks like…

Warmth that floods through your nether region. This is recent. He must’ve done this just before he left, which was minutes after you talked. Was this because of you? 

Your breath quickens and you find yourself sitting back on his chair. Was he playing with his cock in this very chair? Was he hard in his pants while you came in and begged for his forgiveness? 

Your hand slowly slides past your waistband and beneath your underwear, fingers rubbing slow circles against your clit. Breathy moans pass your lips as you draw the circles tighter, picking up the pace. Grasping the tissue, you close your eyes and visualise Bruce sitting in this chair, cumming to the thought of you. 

You hip rock against your hand, begging for more as you moan out his name. You cum quicker than ever before, hand continuing but softening its movement to draw out your orgasm. 

In an almost hypnotic state, you stop and take a moment to catch your breath. You slowly open your eyes, a sense of euphoria coursing through you. 

A cock stands to attention right in front of you, it’s head a breath away from your lips.

“Open your mouth, beautiful.” Bruce rumbles.

Your mouth opens as you look up at him through your lashes. His eyes are hooded as he looks back, tongues peaking out to lick his lips.

He hums, bringing his length to rest against your bottom lip.

“I’m going to put my cock in your mouth, baby.” His voice is so deep, you can almost feel the vibration. “And you’re going to suck it like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

You nod, core feeling like molten fire. He smiles, slowly pushing his head into your parted lips. You suck on it, enjoying the taste of his salty pre-cum. His moan echoes through the room, hands fisting at his sides.

He slowly thrusts in and out, inching his way further into your mouth. You’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing but his groans say you are. 

Turns out you weren’t far off the mark when you said he was big and bulky. His member is hot and heavy against your tongue. 

Without thinking, you reach out and take his hand in yours. His breath stutters before he intertwines your fingers.

“You’re so good for me,” his voice is rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “I’ve been thinking about these lips for months.”

Your mind temporarily notes that you’ve only known each other for a month but the thought rushes away as he pushes far enough to hit your gag reflex. Your other hand automatically comes up to rest on his thigh as you push back. He throws his head back as his free hand comes down to grasp your hair. He pulls at it, yet doesn’t push you any further down. You moan as your scalp burns, the vibration running up his dick.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” Pride swells in your chest, you’re going to make the Prince of Gotham cum. “You want it in your mouth, baby?”

You hum, which drives him even wilder. The sounds leaving his mouth are otherworldly and you can feel your own slick pooling in your underwear. His thrusts come to a stop as his cum rushes into your mouth. It tastes better than you thought it would, salty yet sweet. 

You swallow without thinking about it, looking up at him through hooded eyes. His face is flushed, mouth open in a perfect O. You think this might be the first time you’ve seen him dishevelled. You love it.

He slowly pulls back, saliva lines bridging the gap as he does. His eyes are glassy as he tucks himself in and slowly lowers to his knees, his hand still intertwined with yours. His free hand travels up your thigh, coming to play with your button.

“What are you doing?” You murmur, eyes focused on the rapid rising and falling of his chest. He stares down at your waistline, a post-orgasmic sheen coating his gaze.

“Repaying the favour.”

Your free hand stops him, causing him to look up at you. 

“You don’t have to do that.” You insist. 

Bruce recognises the panic that starts to swell in your chest, immediately pulling his hand away.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is soft, eyes starting to clear. 

“I-I-'' you fail to actually say anything before jumping from your seat. “My shift is over, I’ve got to go.”

Bruce says your name as he squeezes your hand. “Please, just speak to me.”

“I need you to leave me alone, right now.” You pull your hand from his before rushing out of the office, leaving Bruce alone on his knees.

Taglist: @so-uncute

[daengtokki]

𝐵𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 9.7k

rating: fluff -`♡´-

Part 1 of 4 5

MASTERLIST

˚☽˚.⋆

The lines around his mouth deepen. His hand jumps up to cover it as his lips finally break open to make way for a tiny laugh. He replaces his hand with his coffee cup, sipping around a shy smile. “Thank you.” But he shakes his head a little when he says it.

You catch a glimpse of the braces he’s instinctively trying to hide.

/ / /

It’s half-past eight and you’re already an hour behind. Work got hectic, and then the surprise meeting really threw you off balance. Tonight is not the best night for a date. A blind date, actually, set up for you with nothing but love and the very best of intentions in mind by your friend and co-worker. And if you’re being honest with yourself, one of the only close friends you’ve made since moving far from home. She’s your best friend, really. Choonhee even helped you find your job here in Korea.

Now that you think about it, maybe this whole date idea was to take some of the weight off of her. The two of you spend most of your time together. She teaches you how to cook all of your favorite dishes, helps you keep your finances in order. She’s always there when things get a little too overwhelming. You don’t blame her for wanting to find you more friends.

You feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

“Please please also be running behind,” You mumble to yourself.

Meet him at the cafe in an hour

A sigh of relief. You look at yourself in the mirror. Time to shower. Time to overthink what you’re going to wear.

It’s just a casual thing, she said. No dressing up. Just wear what I’d wear if I were hanging out any other time with any other friend. That really didn’t make things easier, though. You try to remember what she did tell you about your date, but it wasn’t much:

Tall, but not too tall. ‘Taller than you’ is what she said, actually. Nice eyebrows. Kind of a smart ass if you know him well enough. He’s funny…she really emphasized the fact that he has an interesting sense of humor. His hair is currently blond, or it was the last time she saw him. ‘He looks cute blond’, also her words. And ‘he did it for work’.

What does that even mean? You didn’t bother getting any other information out of her. It’s going to be uncomfortable and awkward no matter how much you know, but you forgot to ask how well he spoke English. It doesn’t matter now. You just hope there’s enough overlap in language to make it through an hour or so.

____

At 9:40 (you’re late) you jump out of your taxi and try to orient yourself. You’ve been here before, but not much, and not lately. And it’s busy because of the holiday. You suddenly regret every decision you’ve made today. Maybe it’s not too late to cancel and get yourself back home and under the blankets.

Buzz buzz

Are you there? He’s waiting near the door, but didn’t want to go in without you because it’s a little busy

Oh, that’s kinda nice. At least he’s thoughtful. Or maybe he’s just anxious. Your heart is still beating out of your chest and you can feel how hot your cheeks are despite the chilly air. You start your walk toward the cafe, about a half a block down. There are far too many people loitering on the sidewalk; waiting for rides, talking in tight little groups, phones out and taking videos of friends. You squeeze yourself through until you get to the tables set up outside. Also full of people.

You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. Seven seconds in, five out. Right? It helps a little, so you open your eyes and take a cautious look around. There are so many people that could potentially be him, so you try to filter out the blonds. There are a lot of kinda tall blonds, but only one by himself. And he isn’t really blond. This guys hair is a light soft brown. The way the warm lights bounce off of it does make it look lighter, though.

He’s right by the outer doors of the cafe, back against the wall with one foot flat against it. His raised knee is swinging back and forth like a metronome. He’s bobbing his head a little as he stares down at his phone. It lights up his face, but most of it is covered with a black mask. And then, almost as if he feels your eyes on him, he looks up and right at you. His hair bounces down around his eyes a bit, and he shakes his head until he gets it out.

You hold the eye contact, but you forget how to react normally for a moment. You assume she told him about you and a little about your appearance, so…

He puts his phone in his pocket and waves, a little reluctantly, a little unsure. You’re not the only foreigner here, and definitely not terribly distinctive looking. But you’re certain you’re looking at the right person.

You wave back and smile.

He stands up straight and takes a few steps toward you, hands in the pockets of his jacket now. He takes them out almost immediately, though. Maybe he’s nervous, too.

He nods to you. His hand combs through his hair, but it bounces back exactly how it was before he touched it. “You’re late.”

You blush a little and your heart is thumping again. The mask is making it difficult to read him. That’s not how you were expecting him to greet you, and you really weren’t expecting somebody that looked like him

“I’m kidding…I’m kidding.” Now you can hear the lightness in his voice. It’s almost melodic, the way he speaks. He pulls at his mask a little to adjust it. “I just got here a few minutes ago.”

“Oh!” You try to hold his eyes with yours, but his gaze is a little intense. “Okay good…yeah it’s a little crazy out tonight.”

“It is busy,” he agrees with a little nod. “But we can go inside if it’s not too crowded for you. To get warm.”

His hands are back in his pockets again.

“Yeah, if you’re good, I’m good.”

It’s almost too warm inside the cafe, but it’s roomy, thankfully. The large amount of people are spread out nicely. The lights are turned down low, and the atmosphere is almost bar-like. The biggest difference is the smell of coffee and the soft voices. The music is familiar; something you would listen to in your free time.

He waits for you to catch up. You fall behind without realizing as you adjust to your surroundings.

“It’s nice in here,” he says, “what do you like to drink?”

“Just a regular latte.”

“That’s all?”

You nod at him, and he orders for both of you. It’s a good opportunity to see him in the brighter lights here at the counter. His long legs are in a pair of well fitting (but not too tight) black jeans, cuffed just enough that you see a bit of his ankle peeking above his white and tan sneakers. His jacket is light blue denim, and the hoodie underneath is white.

He half turns to look at you, and his eyes narrow in a way that let you know he’s smiling. It sets off butterflies in your stomach. You’ve barely spoken to him and you haven’t even seen his whole face, yet here you are, feeling like you’re falling.

“They’ll bring our drinks to us. We can find somewhere to sit.” He waves you toward him, and you follow as he leads you to the most out of the way table he can find. You’re thankful for the semi-privacy here.

There’s not much time to start a conversation, but you look at each other briefly. His gaze is a little intense from above his mask, but soft. His eyes are big and shiny, and he doesn’t look away from you. It feels like he’s searching for something to say.

A few moments later, a young girl arrives with two drinks. When she walks off again, he finally takes off his mask. Carefully he unhooks it from one ear, then the other, and folds it neatly into his pocket.

He’s better looking than you were expecting.

The smell of fresh coffee and the look in his eyes makes you feel a little…woozy. You wonder if he looks at everyone like this. It’s getting so warm in the cafe. You shake yourself out of your top layer before wrapping your hands around the warm mug.

Your force yourself to look up at him again. “Choonhee told me almost nothing about you. She didn’t even get your hair color right.”

“To be fair, I change it often.” He lifts his straw to his lips. Iced coffee. “She told me a lot about you.”

“Yeah? What did you she tell you? I may have to correct a few things.”

“No,” he laughs and shakes his head. “She said you were…nice, cute, funny, smart.”

You try not to dispute his ‘cute’ claim. Either he means it or he’s just being nice. Both are fine right now. “She did mention that we have similar personalities, but I don’t know exactly what she meant.”

“I think she must have a type when it comes to friends.”

His English is nice; very smooth. Only occasionally does he make a mistake with cadence. But it’s hardly noticeable. His voice is sweet and soft, and very soothing to your ears. You hope he keeps talking all night. Things will go much easier for you that way.

“She told me you were kind of a smart ass.”

Seungmin laughs at that, throwing his hand over his mouth when he does. “Only if you deserve it.” He drops his hand back to the table and then around his drink

The two silver rings he’s wearing glint a little in the light. One is thin and plain, the other is much wider, and the shape is a repeating row of G’s. You somehow recognize that G. It’s a Givenchy G.

“Is this real or a knockoff?” Gently, you take his hand in yours to get a closer look, and then realize how silly of a thing that was. Sometimes you forget to show restraint. You’re very American.

He doesn’t pull away, though. He doesn’t seem to mind you taking his hand in yours without warning. “It’s real. It was a gift.”

“Silver looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” He drops his eyes from you to your hands still clasped together. He says nothing, just waits until you let go to pull back.

“Oh…gift, that reminds me.” He digs in the pocket of his denim jacket and pulls out something small and white. Before handing it to you, he looks it over and smiles. “It’s silly, but I got you this...”

“You brought me something?”

Seungmin nods and passes it across the table. When you grab it, it’s soft and fuzzy. It’s a keychain. You’re definitely blushing and you’re 100% certain he can see the pink rising up from your neck and into your cheeks.

“I don’t know if you have a favorite, but Choonhee said you like dogs. I like dogs, too. Pochacco is my favorite.”

“Thank you, Seungmin.” You stare down at Pochaccos face and squeeze him. Then you hook him onto the keys hanging from your bag. You keep holding onto him, though.

He smiles again, much bigger than before. And this time he doesn’t cover his face with his hand. You see his braces this time, and it makes you smile. You obviously shouldn’t stare, but it’s hard not to. They look cute on him.

An oooh comes out in a whisper and you didn’t mean it to, but it’s out there now. You can’t take your eyes off of his mouth, and now you’re wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Oh…uhm.” Seungmin keeps smiling, but now his lips are back together. “Did she tell you I still had my braces?”

“No, she didn’t mention it.” You lean into the table more so you’re closer to him. It’s not a very big table. “She told me very little, I guess she wanted me to be surprised.”

“Hopefully no…bad surprises.”

“Nothing bad yet.”

The smile on his face becomes a little more reserved, but it’s still very much there. “How is your coffee…are you hungry?”

“It’s good,” You pick it up and take a sip. He’s been too distracting…you can’t even remember if you’ve taken a drink yet. “I am a little hungry, but I’m not much of an eater on dates. I’m usually too nervous.”

Seungmin nods, seeming to understand your reasoning. “Please let me know if you change your mind. We can get something.”

You nod back, “so how do you know Choonhee?”

“She used to work with me, where I work now.”

“Oh, where do you work?”

He seems to hesitate for a moment, look around, fidget with his drink. Then he looks at you again. “I work for JYP Entertainment.”

He works at one of the biggest entertainment companies in South Korea. And Choonhee worked there, too.

“I had no idea she used to work there.” You sit back in your chair and fold your arms over your chest. “That’s kind of a big change from what she does now.”

Seungmin nods, “in atmosphere, maybe. She was a tutor. You are a teacher, yeah?”

You nod, “yes, I teach English. Sometimes music, as a substitute.”

The table shakes a little as he moves closer. He can’t get much closer, unfortunately. “You teach music?”

“Not often, but yes. I take it you like music?”

“Yes, very much. Do you sing?

“Yeah, a little.”

There’s a little smirk on his lips as he finishes off the last bit of iced coffee. He shakes the remainder of his ice as he stands. “I’m going to find the restroom, I’ll be back.”

Before he leaves, he shakes himself free of his denim jacket and hangs it neatly across the back of his chair. You nod and watch him walk away. It’s difficult to keep your eyes off of him, but as soon as he disappears into the restroom, you pull out your phone. It’s buzzed three times since you’ve been here.

Have fun!!

Did you find him?

You don’t have to answer these btw, I’ll assume you haven’t answered because you found him and immediately fell in love

You unlock your phone and begin typing a response. “Yes, we found each other.” Send. You think for a moment, but her reply comes through before your next message.

Well!?

“He’s cute.”

You’re gonna fall in love, just give it a minute

From the corner of your eye you see him walk by the table. You look at him; he looks at you and waves, but his mask is back on. You think for the smallest moment he’s skipping out, but he’s only heading to the counter again. You watch him and your phone at the same time.

Buzz buzz

He likes you

Oh, he must have sent Choonhee a message in the restroom. He likes you. You’ve barely known each other thirty minutes, so he can’t possibly like you that much. But you like him, so maybe he does…

He returns with two small plates and sets one of them in front of you. The other is his. “I heard they have very good pastries here, so I thought we should try one.” He removes his mask and goes for a taste.

You pick yours up and carefully tear it in half. It’s filled with chocolate. “Oh, did you get the chocolate one, too?”

As he’s biting into it and making a mess, he nods. The flakes stick to his lips as he chews, and he carefully tries cleaning them off, but it’s a challenge. It’s cute. You can’t help but think of going over there and cleaning him off yourself. But you shake away the thought and stop staring.

——

“Seungmin…” he hands you your fresh coffee and leads the way out of the crowd. It’s dwindled a bit, but not by much. “It’s a nice name.”

“It’s so common, but I guess that’s not really a bad thing.”

“You look like a Seungmin.”

“Oh, is that a good thing?” He laughs.

You mmhmm him through your sip of coffee and purposely brush against his arm. He gave you his denim jacket to wear. You told him you weren’t cold, and it was no big deal, but you’re secretly grateful you have it around you. His scent is subtle on it; it’s nice.

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you look up at him, but you can’t see well in the dim light. You can just make out the silhouette of his nose and mouth and chin. He licks his lips after another sip of coffee. “It’s nice here.”

You walked from the cafe and ended up at the edge of a large public park. It’s lit up and cozy, but a little chillier now that it’s gotten much later. There are still plenty of people milling around, though, mostly couples and groups of teenagers, but it’s not too crowded.

There are seats and tables here, so he leads you to a spot under some decent lighting and a working outdoor heater. It’s comfortable enough, but mostly it’s nice having him more to yourself. He’s looking down at his hands as they spin his coffee cup. A hot one this time.

Big dark eyelashes hide his eyes from you. Lips are closed tight like, he’s deep in thought. He looks at you then, as if he feels you watching. The lights makes them look wet, like maybe he could cry at any moment. But his cheeks lift as he smiles. His lips stay closed tight, but the corners of his mouth twitch a little as he fights an even bigger smile.

He feels familiar, but you can’t figure out why. Maybe you’ve seen him before. He’s the kind of good looking you’d see on tv or in a magazine, but he also looks like your cute childhood crush all grown up. So now you suddenly wonder what business you have being in front of him. Did Choonhee really think this was a good blind date?

Maybe for you. Seungmin could probably have anyone he wanted.

“You’re very handsome.”

The lines around his mouth deepen. His hand jumps up to cover it as his lips finally break open to make way for a tiny laugh. He replaces his hand with his coffee cup, sipping around a shy smile. “Thank you.” But he shakes his head a little when he says it.

You catch a glimpse of the braces he’s instinctively trying to hide.

“How long have you been here in Korea?” He asks. He can’t keep them hidden while he talks. Well, he could, but you’re sure he’s aware of how silly it would look if he held a hand over his mouth for the entire date.

“Two years…not very long,” you keep yours eyes on his eyes…or on his hands as they fidget with his cup. “I think your English is better than my Korean.”

“Is it?” Seungmin raises his eyebrows, and his face lights up. He bites down on the corner of his lip, making your eyes wander to the metal glint when he flashes his teeth. “Thanks.” He rubs a little at his mouth, probably fighting the habit of covering it again.

You want to tell him to relax; that his braces don’t distract from the rest of him

Seungmin sits up a bit and looks around. A few people have walked by since you sat down, but not many. There’s music playing from somewhere nearby, but you can’t tell where it’s coming from. It’s a soft song you’ve heard many times on the radio at work.

You want him to tell you everything he can about himself, but you don’t want to scare him off. It’s been less than two hours, but you can already feel yourself attaching—falling for him—doing what you always do with anyone who gives you the type of attention Seungmin is giving you tonight. He’s only had eyes for you all night, but occasionally he looks around and gets quiet…a little uncomfortable.. The first date nerves have mostly subsided for you, but maybe they haven’t for him.

“Are you still hungry? We could find somewhere to eat if it’s not too late.” He seems to be searching your face for an answer before he continues. “If it’s not too late to eat, I mean,” he looks down at the time on his phone, “it’s a little late.”

It’s nearly eleven. It is late for you, technically. You’re usually up early, unless you don’t have to be. Maybe he’s an early riser as well.

“It’s not too late, not during the holiday.”

____

Seungmin gets the two of you a ride this time, and you head a few miles closer to the city. There’s so much space between you in the backseat of the car, but he has his body turned toward you as he speaks. He seems to be texting on his phone between your conversation, but it’s the first time he’s been on it all night, aside from getting the car.

“I go here very often, so they know me.”

Pochacco is in your lap. You fidget with him as Seungmin speaks and types at the same time. “I’m glad you like him.”

____

The mask is back on his face as he leads you toward the restaurant. It looks busy from the outside, but the open design makes everything feel calm and quiet. As you’re standing there waiting, you feel his fingers graze against your hand. Your fingers twitch back against his.

A young man, you assume he is one of the hosts, walks over to you and bows. “We have your table ready for you.” He looks at Seungmin, and then to you before gesturing to follow him.

You walk off to the right and a little further beyond the packed bar. There are a fair amount of people in this slightly more private area, but nobody pays much attention as you follow Seungmin and the host to your table.

“What are you hungry for?” Seungmin removes his mask again. “Everything here is very good.”

“I’m not very picky, and I’ll try anything at least once. As long as there are no intestines.”

“Gopchang is not my favorite, but I have a good friend who makes it very well.”

You scan the menu. There’s a surprising amount of dishes listed. “I think I would like to try whatever your favorite dish is.”

“How do you feel about sharing something?”

It’s a cute suggestion and it catches you by surprise. He keeps doing all of the things that make you feel stupid and in love.

“We can both pick something and share them, or share one dish…if you want.” His smile grows a little as he speaks.

You like watching him become more comfortable as the night progresses. Hopefully your calm is making him calm, because you feel much better now than you have the entire day.

“Yeah, let’s share something.” Whatever makes you feel closer to him. One dish between the two of you is the obvious answer. “We should have your favorite.”

“I hope you don’t like spicy. I can’t do spicy.”

“No, I don’t need spicy. Maybe some kimchi, though. I like to try the kimchi everywhere I go.”

Seungmin smiles at you without holding himself back. “Yeah, we should have some kimchi, and Jjajangmyeon as well.” He nods and picks up his tea, but doesn’t take a drink. Instead he looks at you with curious eyes. The edge of the glass sits lightly against his lower lip.

You feel a little flutter in your chest just from looking at him now. “You should smile like that more often.”

“No,” He says it bluntly but playfully. “Maybe in a few months when they’re finally off.”

A little wave of sadness washes over you, but passes quickly. “You can smile for me, I like it.”

The buzzing of a phone interrupts you, but your eyes linger on his softening face for another few seconds. It’s Choonhee needing an update. You don’t want to be rude and you definitely don’t want to be distracted from working on figuring him out—or making him smile more.

But then another text message dings. It’s not you this time. Seungmin reaches into his pocket and glances quickly at his screen. “Should we answer her?”

____

You only reply to Choonhee’s text after your order has been placed and Seungmin excuses himself from the table.

“Yeah, all good still”

He LIKES YOU

You feel goosebumps break out all over your skin when you read her reply.

“He’s a little bit of a mystery. How did you meet him? Why didn’t I know you used to work at JYPE??”

You send the message, hoping you get an answer before he comes back. But a reply doesn’t pop up until a few minutes after he’s returned and food is brought out to the table.

Seungmin begins splitting the food between the two of you. “You can answer her, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m not worried about it. I’ll text her later.”

It doesn’t hurt to glance down at the message, though. All it says is “Kim Seungmin likes you (ง¬᎑¬)ว”

You give the air in front of you an irritated sigh.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin stops as he’s fixing his food. His brow wrinkles a bit with concern. It’s very cute. “Did I give you too much?”

“No no, I wasn’t sighing at you, Seungmin.” You pick up your chopsticks and situate your food in front of you, but wait for him before you dig into what looks like very good kimchi. “I just…looked at Choonhee’s text. She drives me crazy sometimes.”

“She also drives me crazy. She was very persistent about us meeting each other.”

“She wouldn’t let me say no.”

You both take a bite of food together.

“She’s very lucky it’s a holiday and I could get time away, though she probably would have kept pestering me.” He takes another bite, watching you curiously as you do the same. “Did you want to say no? You didn’t want to come?”

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

He’s funny. “I didn’t, only because I don’t really like blind dates. I don’t like going into anything…blind.”

“That’s understandable. I did want to come, but also I didn’t, because dating for me is difficult and sometimes awkward for the other person. But a while ago I told Choonhee I wanted to make more foreign friends. She doesn’t forget things.”

“Does work keep you very busy?” Now seems like the time to really pry. “Is that why dating is so hard?”

“Work is very busy, yes. I feel like I have to be on 100% of the time, and it can be very exhausting.” He takes a big, messy bite of food, then covers his mouth as he tries not to giggle through it. It takes him a few moments before he can speak again. “That’s one reason why it’s difficult.”

“I am glad I came, though.”

“How is your food?” Just as he asks, the server returns to the table with another plate of food. “Oh, I got us something else.”

“More? I don’t know if I can eat what we have here now.” Your eyes widen at the sight of this new plate of food. “Oh!”

Seungmin laughs and serves you a few pieces of gopchang, “sometimes it takes a few tries before you really appreciate something.”

You gingerly pick up a small piece of intestine and examine it. It jiggles weirdly at the end of your chopsticks. “Okay, so I’ve never actually tried it before.”

“Eat!”

You take the bite, hold it in your mouth for a second, then chew.

“No?”

You swallow hard, then shake your head at him. “No.”

“Well, at least you tried it.” He pulls the plate back toward him and takes a few bites. “Eat some kimchi and get the taste out of your mouth.” He laughs at the grimace still stuck on your face.

“It might take more than that,” but you do, and then a long drink of your tea. Your phone buzzes again.

“Tell her that…we have decided to just spend the remainder of the holiday together. And that she shouldn’t worry about us.”

Your face gets hot, even though he’s definitely just goofing around. When you look up at him he’s calmly eating, looking down at the messages that popped up on his own phone.

“I think she’s having fun with us.”

“This time it’s Chan Hyung checking up on me. He is a worrier.”

“That’s sweet of him. Did you tell him you’re in good hands?”

Seungmin nods and laughs, “I did.” His eyes catch the light and sparkle at you as he leans closer across the table. “He will worry until I’m back home, though.”

“Do you live with him?”

“I’m at my parents house for the holiday, but normally yes. Well, nearby. I have three roommates. And the other four, including him, live together. But basically we all live together.”

Each time you ask him a question, the answer makes you a little more confused than if you hadn’t asked anything at all. You sit back in your chair and let out a long sigh, fold your arms across your chest. “That’s a lot of roommates.”

“I’m so used to it, we’ve been together for a while now.”

“I’m gonna run to the restroom, I’ll be back.” You grab your bag and your phone. Seungmin gives you a nod.

Once you manage to find the bathroom, you have a seat on one of the squishy chairs and pull your phone back out. Choonhee’s last text message is still on your lock screen…

Kim Seungmin likes you (ง¬᎑¬)ว

You start typing…

"I can’t seem to figure him out. He’s so sweet and easy to talk to, but why is everything about him so…"

So what? You’re not even sure where this message is going.

"…he’s different?? He’s TOO sweet, too good looking. Help me out here."

Now you wait for a reply, hoping she’s glued to her phone so you’re not stuck in here for too long. Two girls, maybe a little younger than you, walk in while you wait, and both look at you directly as they pass by. One lingers on you and heads to the mirror to fix her makeup, the other disappears into a stall. You keep your eyes on your phone, but you still see her watching you from the corner of your eye.

Buzz buzz

Why are you so paranoid? You better trust me.

You push the call button and wait for her to pick up.

“Annyeeoong!”

“I am not paranoid! You threw me into this and now you’re picking on me.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pick on you!” She laughs, though.

“Every time I ask him something, I’m more confused,” you lower your voice as the two girls walk by and leave the bathroom.

“Did you google him? I gave you his full name.”

“No, I haven’t googled him. Why would I google him? Is that a joke? Who wears designer jewelry and has seven roommates?” You’re whispering, but trying to convey your irritation at the same time.

She laughs again.

“I have to get back out there before he thinks I got lost.”

“I’m glad you two like each other!”

“BYE”

Now all you can think about is figuring out who he is before you lay eyes on him again. But do you want to know now? Maybe later would be best, well after you’re home safe and the pressure is gone. The last thing you want is to make everything awkward.

But you’re very good at making things awkward.

A few seconds later you pull up the browser on your phone and type out his name. Why is she setting you up with someone you can google in the first place?

K i m S e u n g-

You stop and stare at the screen. No clues pop up in the auto search. It’s a very common name, but…

You finish. You hit ‘go’.

It loads quickly, and the first thing that pops up is his face. HIS face. Seungmin’s sweet face. Only his hair is much darker in this photo. But it’s him. The weird feeling of falling hits; you feel a little lightheaded. You thought he was a little odd and a little too good to be true, but this…

“Oh my god, you set me up with an idol.”

Another person enters the bathroom and you jump. They pay no attention to you, thankfully.

“And he’s five years younger than me.”

A deep breath in, and a long slow breath out. You’re back on your feet and out of the bathroom. Can you even remember where your table is? Yes, there it is. You see the back of Seungmins pretty head…he’s on his phone, texting it looks like.

Another nice, deep breath. Why the hell did she set you up with an idol? You’re not surprised you didn’t know who he was, though. You don’t listen to much pop music; even the kids at school haven’t introduced you to this particular group. The name doesn’t sound familiar, anyway. You have a few confiscated photocards in your desk drawer. You’re sure he’s not one of them, but you can’t wait to get back to school and check now.

You walk back over, calm and cool and not like you were just losing it a little in the bathroom.

“Welcome back!” He smiles as you sit and puts his phone away.

Now you look at him and realize just how good looking he is. Of course he’s an idol, what else could a face like that be? And he’s a main vocalist. He sings. You…kind of sing.

“So, Seungmin…”

He answers with a soft hmm? as he chews his food.

“Do you sing? Or play anything? You said earlier that you liked music.”

He nods and smiles, swallows his bite, “I sing, yes! And I like playing guitar and piano, but I don’t do that as often as I’d like.”

“I would love to hear you sing.” You say it sincerely, because you mean it. His speaking voice is so nice, you’re certain his singing voice is even more beautiful.

“I would love to hear you sing!” He adjusts himself in his chair like he’s trying to get himself closer to you, but there’s nowhere else to go. His face is somehow brighter. “We should do that…we should sing.”

“You wanna sing with me? I doubt I can sing as well as you.”

“We don’t know that!”

You rest your chin in your cupped hands and smile at him. He smiles, too. You think his smile might be your favorite thing about him. “I do know.” But there’s so many things to like.

“Oh,” his head cocks to the side a bit. Another thing you really like, and he does it a lot. He’s staring through you and it feels like he’s hearing every thought that’s currently flying around your brain. “You know?”

“What I don’t know is…” putting it into the right words is difficult for some reason, and your tone of voice has accidentally come out a little cold. You don’t want to come off as rude or ungrateful of his company. You like him, but it’s suddenly become a little bit weird, and very complicated. “I just don’t feel like we…” you stop again to think. You suddenly feel really stupid for talking at all. “I guess I just don’t understand why you seem to…like me.”

All of your insecurities have suddenly jumped to the front of the line, and it’s clouding your vision. The things you were so happy about before are now being pushed down by your own stupid, stupid thoughts.

“Hm?” Seungmin’s face falls a little. He’s sitting still, and for the first time, he’s stopped eating. He can really put away a lot of food for being so slender. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, Seungmin. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just having-“

“Second thoughts.” He says it matter-of-factly; no inflection.

Everything you say now is coming out all wrong. The words in your head and the words coming out of your mouth aren’t matching up. Your heart is starting to pound, and you feel warm, but not in a good way. Not in the cute, blushy way Seungmin was making you feel before.

“Would you like me to take you home? I can get us a car. Or I can get you a car.” He wrings his hands and reaches for his phone.

“No, no don’t do that,” Your chest feels tight and your words almost get caught in your throat. You stop and think about your next words, because right now you’re not doing a great job of speaking. “I’m sorry, I’m really not very good at this. Dating, talking to people, getting my thoughts out properly.”

Seungmin puts his phone down on the table, thinks for a moment… “I do like you. But I haven’t been very honest, so I am very sorry for that. I would like to be honest with you, if you’ll stay.”

You look down at your lap and realize you’ve been squeezing Pochacco the entire time. You release him, run your thumb over him. “Yeah, I do wanna stay.”

His face his confused, innocent, and soft all at once as he stares at you. There’s a little concern there, as well. You can tell he’s wondering what happened in the few minutes you left the table. He also might be nervous about telling you who he is.

He clears his throat and takes a drink, preparing himself to tell you what you already know. You hate making him do this here.

“I know you’re an idol. You don’t have to explain anything.”

Relief washes over his face, and then slowly, realization. “Is that why you’re upset? You left the table…you were okay before that. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I was just trying to figure you out. And I understand why you were hesitant about it.” You keep your voice as soft as possible, as steady as you can manage. You’re not angry at him. How you could you possibly be mad at him while he’s looking at you like that? “Maybe we can go back to before, when I didn’t know...”

“It’s so hard meeting people genuinely…people who don’t already know who you are.”

There’s a long silence between the two of you, and looking up at him again suddenly feels impossible. You stare down at your blank phone, almost hoping a text message will come through. Something needs to break the tension.

Nothing happens.

You almost feel like crying. Your throat tightens and your eyes start to sting from not blinking. “Can we go somewhere else?” The words finally come out of you. “Somewhere with less people.”

“Yeah, we can.”

____

It’s much colder now. And it’s late; well after midnight. You weren’t expecting the date to go on this long. In fact, you had the night planned for yourself once you got home. A few episodes of the drama you’re currently watching, and maybe a drink or two. Warm, under a big blanket.

But now you’re suddenly starring in your own drama.

Seungmin stands in front of you, blocking the slight breeze. You let out a big yawn.

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you out so late.” He steps a little closer when a gust of wind whips by.

“You’re not,” you try to smile at him, but your face feels a little numb. “I can leave whenever I want to, right?”

“Right.” He nods sharply. “Thank you for not leaving.”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you back to my apartment?”

“Huh?” His mouth hangs open a little.

“I don’t know anywhere else where we could be alone.”

“Uhm, well, it would be a little inappropriate I guess. But I wouldn’t mind if you asked.”

A car pulls up to the curb next to you.

____

The apartment is not ready for any guests, especially not the celebrity variety. You left a mess on your way out—clothes all over the floor, dishes in the sink. But maybe it’s not as bad you’re imagining. This will strictly be a living room visit. And it won’t be long.

“This feels so strange.” He says as the elevator door slides opens on the 5th floor.

“What does? Going home with someone?”

“Yes.” Another blunt answer. His tone is still playful, even after what you’re putting him through. He follows you until you stop in front of your door and fumble with your keys.

You look back at him as you push open the door, “I won’t keep you here long, I promise.”

It’s not as bad inside as you were imagining. You shake his jacket off and hang it above the not-so-neat row of shoes inside the door. Seungmin slides his off and places them next to yours. “I can make you more coffee if you’d like.”

“Sure, if you’d like me to stay that long.”

“Sit.” You point to the couch and head to the kitchen.

Halfway through your work, you notice him leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. He watches silently. You pretend you don’t see him. Above you the fluorescent light buzzes and flickers a bit. It’s the only light in the kitchen right now. The warmth of the apartment and the smell of coffee brewing brings you back down to earth a bit, and you desperately need that before you start talking again.

Seungmin speaks up first, though. It startles you.

“I’m not really allowed to date.”

“What?” You take both mugs in your hands and walk closer to him.

“I mean, I am…but they prefer we don’t. At least not for a while. I would probably get in trouble if anyone recognized me while we were together earlier.” He takes his mug from you and holds it under his nose.

“Why?” Your mind snaps back to the girl eyeing you in the bathroom. You didn’t even think about it until now.

“Well, I didn’t get permission, for one thing. And it helps with keeping the idol illusion alive if we’re not seen with others like that.”

“I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

He waves his hand at you, pushes away your words. “It’s okay. I get into trouble all the time.”

“Do you?”

Seungmin nods and smiles as he sips his coffee.

You grin at him.

Now that you’re alone together, finding the right words might come a little easier. The tv is on, volume low, just to break the dead silence in the room. He’s sitting back comfortably on your couch with his coffee to his lips, and his legs loosely crossed. You can’t help but watch them as his foot bounces.

Meanwhile, he’s looking at you with soft (maybe a little tired?) eyes. “You have me to yourself now.” His voice is a little tired, too. It makes him sound flirty and…well, you don’t wanna think about that too much.

A nod is all you can manage before speaks again.

“I like this one.”

“You like what?”

“This drama. I finished it recently.”

The silence is a little less tense now, but the room still feels heavy. “Did you really come out tonight to find a new friend?” You’re sweating. The heat is probably up too high, you need to open a window or something.

“Did you?” Now he’s sitting up a little and he pushes the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbow.

It’s nice to see more of his skin. “No.” You watch his hands as they rub the denim on his thighs. “I should open a window, it’s a little warm in here.” You can feel his eyes on you as you walk to the other side of the room. It makes you nervous. You push the curtain aside, unlock the window, and slide it up.

The rush of cool air is exactly what you need. Your hear your phone buzz on the side table where you threw it. You pretend you don’t notice it when you get back to his side.

“Choonhee wants you…” he almost sings it. He must know you have no other friends.

You imagine one of the conversations between Seungmin and her; Choonhee would say something to make you sound so great and fun, but you don’t like putting yourself out there and making new friends, so you need little push now and then.

Which is entirely true.

“It’s not her,” you lie, just to throw him off for a moment.

“Oh, is it your next date?” His tone is so flat and dry, but the look on his face tells you he doesn’t really think that. Or maybe he’s not sure, and he wants to be sure.

Instead of answering, you just let your eyes linger on his while you pull open your messages.

Well? Are you home yet? Don’t make me worry

”Yes, I’m home. 'Kim Seungmin (ง¬᎑¬)ว' is here too”

Three bouncing dots pop up the second after you hit send. Probably the fastest she’s ever replied to you.

YOU TOOK HIM HOME WITH YOU??!!

And then another…

ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)

And more…

( ˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)ε｀●)

◠◡◠(´ ͡༎ຶ ͜ꞈ ͡༎ຶ `)◡◠◡

"OKAY STOP IT", You finally reply

Okay okay sorry but you took him home with you???

”I felt weird asking him, but yes. I also felt weird being out in public when I found out who he was”

OH you knoooow. Okay. Just don’t do anything to him, I kinda forgot to mention he’s a bit younger

”Yeah, I figured that out on my own”

He’s a good boy

”Okay I’m done talking to you tonight”

You throw your phone on the table next to you.

Seungmin readjusts himself so he’s facing in your direction. “Have you watched Hometown Cha Cha Cha?”

There’s far less space between you and him now. His cheeks are pink. It’s still too warm in here.

“I have, yeah. Sorry, I can’t adjust the heat.” You don’t even know why you mentioned the heat. His closeness is throwing you off. You can feel his breath on you.

“I’m okay, this hoodie is just too cozy.” He pushes the sleeves back down and opts for removing it completely. He pulls it off very easily, but the back of his shirt pulls up along with it for a brief moment, showing you a little skin. He catches it quickly and shakes his head to fix his hair.

“I have a song in that one.” He says as he neatly rolls it and places it on the arm of the couch.

“You have a what?” Now you’re distracted my his thin black t-shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders.

He catches you staring at not his face, “a song…in that drama. You heard it I’m sure.”

“Oh, wow…you’re right, I’ve definitely heard you sing, then.” You grab the remote again and scroll until you find YouTube. It takes a stupid long time to load (“you have bad wifi up here” — “thanks, I know”) but once it finally does, you start typing his name into the search bar.

“The song is called Here Always. Your search will be full of lots of other weird things if you only search my name.”

“Oh, how weird?” You search anyway and investigate. “Vlogs…are these official idol vlogs?”

“Yes,” he laughs at that. “I’m filming one right now while on holiday. I didn’t bring my camera with me, though.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be in your vlog.”

“They’re usually pretty boring anyway.”

You search properly now, throwing the title of the song next to his name. You plan on watching those other videos later.

When you look at him, he has his hands cupped against his cheeks, and he sinks down in the couch a little.

“Are you being shy? You really don’t come off as the shy type.”

“No, I’m fine.” He giggles and relaxes a little.

Now you sit back against the couch, close enough to him that your arms are lightly touching. The video you choose is a clip compilation from the drama, so he at least won’t have to stare at himself as you listen.

Without realizing it, you manage to sink further into your seat as the song plays, and by the time it ends, your cheek is pressed firmly against the fabric on his shoulder. He hasn’t moved, though. So you don’t move. His body is warm and he smells nice, so why should you move? You decide to just stay put and let YouTube choose the next video.

The description says Love Poem, KINGDOM EP8. You can read the names, written in Hangul. Eunkwang, Seungmin, Jongho. You’re pleased with yourself, because your reading comprehension is not as good as it could be.

A soft sigh dances over your ear. You look up, trying not to disturb him too much. Seungmin is sleeping soundly, head back against the couch. You hate to wake him, but he definitely cannot spend the night here.

You want to hear more of his singing, though, so you watch it, and then another, and eventually you lose track of how many Seungmin compilation videos you’ve seen. Group interviews, Seungmin fancams. You almost forget you’re watching videos of the guy who’s sleeping next to you.

But it’s gotten so late. You carefully sit yourself up on your knees and look down on his sleeping face.

“Seungmin…” you whisper. He doesn’t move. His mouth opens a little as he lets out a deep breath, and you can just make out his front teeth against the light pink of his lips. “Seung-“

His eyes open slowly, and he lets out a long, drawn out hmmm before closing his eyes again.

“Hey, you gotta wake up,” you go to place your hand against his forehead, but stop yourself. “Neoneun il-eonaya hae.”

“Your Korean sounds nice,” he opens his eyes again and watches you set your hand back down on the top of the couch. “Say something else.”

You think, not knowing what to say now.” Uh…uhm, neo janeun moseub-i gwiyeowo boyeo.” You speak carefully, maybe a little too carefully, but Seungmin smiles deeply and fully.

And then he laughs a little. A very sleepy laugh. “Gomawo.” He sings out the o at the end little, making it sound even more informal than it should be. “I’m awake. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m glad you’re comfortable. But maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time?”

“You can stay.”

“I can stay?”

You nod, and a brief moment of boldness runs through you. You pick your hand up again and set it against his forehead, pushing his hair up and out of the way. He lets you touch him without protest, in fact, he seems to relax even more under you.

His eyes close, but after a few second, he opens one a little to look at you. “Well?” He says.

“Well…what?”

“I thought you were going to kiss me.”

Your whole body heats up, and you quietly suck in a breath, but you keep your voice from showing how much that knocked you off balance. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

His head moves back and forth a little like he’s thinking about it, and that forces you hand up further into his hair. “Only if you want to.”

You do, so when he closes his eyes again, you carefully lean in and hover just above his lips. You’re not sure when you’ll see him again after tonight, so you want to take in as much of the moment as possible. His eyes open again, and he stares at you. They slowly move down your face until they find your mouth. You quickly close the space and he returns the kiss eagerly, but very gently.

It lasts much longer than you expect it to. He sits up and cups your cheek in his hand as he finds a better position, but it only lasts a few more seconds after that. He pulls away slowly and wipes at his lower lip as he watches you.

No words come to mind, so you just keep quiet and look at him.

“Was that okay?” Seungmin asks. He’s all braces, and the apples of his cheeks are flushed.

“Yeah, that was okay,” You have to force yourself not to go for his mouth a second time. “I’ve never kissed someone with braces before.”

He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but he still smiles behind them. “Was it weird?”

“No, it wasn’t.” You lean in, move his hand, and kiss him again.

When you pull apart, he rakes his fingers through his hair and relaxes sideways against the couch so his body is still turned toward you. You quietly look at each other; you wish you could read his mind. All that’s going through your head is that this is it. This is all you get. You probably won’t see him again.

Not that he’d purposely ghost you; he doesn’t look the type. But his lifestyle doesn’t seem to allow for the type of relationship you want. You’re way too clingy for this.

“How often do you come home on holidays?”

“Not often enough,” he looks at you like he now knows what you’re thinking. “I’m sorry.”

You place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. And then a phone goes off.

“Oh it’s me,” Seungmin takes his phone from his back pocket and looks at his screen, “I’m sorry, I have to answer this.”

“It’s alright, go ahead.”

He gets up from the couch and answers the call. You can tell from Seungmins tone and language that whoever it is is older, probably one of his roommates, most likely the same one who texted him hours ago. You try not to pry, but it’s impossible not to listen in this small apartment, and it’s useless to ignore when you’re only getting half of the conversation. Your brain just naturally wants to fill in the rest.

“….mos han geo…mianhae…”

He turns and faces you, gives you a shy smile.

“Na jigeum jib-e ganeun jung-Iya”

A few more exchanged words and he ends the call. He returns to the couch, but doesn’t sit again, so you stand with him. He grabs his hoodie and throws it back on without a word, but he does look at his phone again.

“Do you have a ride home?”

Seungmin smiles warmly at you and steps closer, “yes, I have a ride on the way now.”

You assumed he did. He probably has people ready to wait on him at anytime of the day or night. You assume. Honestly, you have no idea what an idols private life is really like. Except for this date, of course.

“I should head down to the lobby, it shouldn’t take long for them to arrive.”

“Can I go with you? To wait in the lobby, I mean.”

He’s halfway to his shoes when he stops and turns to you, “yes, I would like that.”

____

It’s chilly down here, but it’s empty and quiet. You sit closely together on the sofa while he shows you a video on his phone.

“They always steal my phone for livestreams and videos, so I have so much on here.”

The video was taken by one of the other members in his group, because Seungmin is in this one. They’re backstage goofing off with each other, eating, taking selfies, taking photos of each other.

“When is this from?”

“Three months ago. We were in Busan.” He goes back to his album and pulls up a photo he took of himself and another member. “This is from the same night.”

“I like your makeup here,” you zoom in on his face, and then back out. “You have very pretty eyes.”

He smiles and rubs his shoulder into yours a little.

“Who is this with you?”

“That’s Chan, the one who just called me. He’s our leader, and he takes his responsibility to us very seriously.”

“Well, I’m glad he cares about you so much.”

Just as he locks his phone, a notification comes through. His ride is pulling up in front of the apartment building, and it’s time for him to leave.

“Seungmin…” you stand with him and walk toward the doors. “I know you’re probably very busy, but would it be okay if I kept in touch? And I understand if that wouldn’t work.” You feel very bold just bringing it up, but if he doesn’t, you’ll be left wondering until Choonhee finds out for you. You need to know now.

“I don’t think we’d make very good friends,” he laughs and grabs your arm gently, tugging you a little closer.

You pull him the rest of the way into a hug and hold him there for as long as possible. “We wouldn’t.”

“Goodnight. Thank you for not leaving in the middle of our date.”

You squeeze him a little tighter, thinking about how you’ve never had a first date where you actually had difficulty letting the person leave.

“Wow,” when you finally let him go he stares down at you, “nice hug. I will get your number from Choonhee, and I will text you. If that’s alright.”

“You better.”

“Goodnight.”

He turns, walks through the doors, and disappears into the back of a car. And then he’s gone.

You wait there for a few more moments before heading back up the elevator and into your apartment.

His scent is lingering in the warm room. You close the door behind you and turn to kick off your shoes. His denim jacket is hanging on the hook in front of you.

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley takes the day off from work to spend it with you instead. He has no right to feel as jealous as he does when someone else asks you out, and it leaves him wondering exactly what it would be like to date you. It's obvious you need a break from another night in a hotel room, so Bradley takes you somewhere more comfortable.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, oral and smut (18+)

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You wiggled around in Bradley's arms as he kissed your shoulder late the following morning. He loosened his grip on you but didn't let go completely, and once you were facing him, he pulled you close so your body was pressed to his from head to toe. 

When you kissed him, images of mini golf and a late night dinner filled your mind, and you snuggled in. This was so much more than fucking. This was a full blown love affair. And maybe it was starting to feel too intense and scary because you'd never experienced anything like this before, but this was something you'd never forget. You'd have to fight to get over Bradley, but you would never forget him. And now you were determined to enjoy the rest of your time here.

"Do you want to go eat the mediocre continental breakfast with me before they close everything up at ten o'clock?"

He chuckled, and the sound of it made you smile. He didn't really belong in your world, and you didn't belong in his, but this overlap was something special.

"Yeah, Ace," he rasped, running his fingers inside his Padres jersey which you were still wearing and wrapping his hand around your hip. He lifted his head up and checked the time on the alarm clock. "It's 9:30, Baby. Let's go eat, and you can tell me what we're doing today."

You simply buttoned up his jersey, skipping a bra, and pulled your jeans back on while he also got dressed in yesterday's clothing. On the walk to the elevator, he was looking down at his shirt while he held your hand. "Great. I got maple syrup on myself at the diner."

"That's why you smell so good."

Bradley laughed and backed you up against the wall inside the elevator. "Well, I didn't bring anything else to wear, and you look mighty cozy in my jersey, so I guess you'll have to smell maple syrup on me all day. You look so cute in that thing, I think it's yours now."

You let him tip your head back and kiss you while he ran one sure hand along your butt and gave you a squeeze. Your heart pounded a little faster at the prospect of always having his shirt with you so you could wear it any time. You briefly wondered if you could get away with still wearing it if you ever had a boyfriend, but it was almost amusing that you could only picture yourself with Bradley now.

"Oh, I have an idea," you said, giggling softly as you exited the elevator and led him toward the crowded breakfast area. 

"What's that?" he asked, piling a plate full of waffles and drenching them in syrup. Then he muttered, "Fuck it. The shirt's already a mess." 

You had to stifle your laughter as you got your own plate of food ready, and then Bradley found a small table with only one chair and quickly claimed it. You set your plate down and he patted his thigh indicating that you could sit on his lap. You'd already had sex with him, multiple times. You shouldn't feel butterflies in your tummy over the idea of the intimacy of sitting on his lap in front of strangers. 

"How do you take your coffee?" you asked, bending to kiss his forehead. 

"Black," he replied, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. "No sugar."

"Boring," you whispered with a grin that he immediately matched. Then you could feel his eyes on your back as you walked to the coffee station and made one paper cup of coffee just the way you liked it before dispensing his as well. When you turned to face him, his eyes were already on yours, and he was patting his leg like he couldn't stand being without you for another minute. 

"Ace," he grunted, raising one eyebrow, and when you set the coffees down, he pulled you onto his lap. "That's better. Now what's on the agenda for the day?"

You kissed his cheek as he took a bite of waffle. "Well, my agenda consists of another exclusive interview and article submission before the game tonight. So I guess it's our agenda now."

"Sounds fun," he said, and you watched him drip more syrup onto his shirt. "Fuck," he growled while you hooted with laughter.

"It's okay. I have a solution," you promised him. And when you were done eating, you took him by the hand and went to refill the coffees. "Let's visit the gift shop."

"Good idea," he muttered. "I need a toothbrush and deodorant."

"And I'm buying you a new shirt," you added once you were inside the small shop. You handed a pink toothbrush and some men's deodorant to the girl who was working, and then you pushed Bradley toward all of the Angels tee shirts, but he was just shaking his head. 

"I can't wear one of these. The Padres will know, Ace." But he was smiling as you reached for a red one with an 'A' on the front. 

"Which size?" you asked, and when he responded saying he needed an extra large, you looked through all the racks. "The biggest is a large." When you asked the girl who was working if there were more shirts, she shook her head.

Bradley held a size large up to his body and said, "I guess I can make it work. I don't know if red's my color though."

But you took it from his hands and said, "Only one way to find out." Then you charged everything to your room, and Bradley leaned down to kiss your neck and whisper thank you. "It's the least I can do after mini golf and the diner and the baseball tickets and how many miles you've driven to see me."

He followed you to the elevator as he said, "I did all of that because I wanted to."

"And I bought you a shirt, because I wanted to." Maybe you hoped he'd continue to wear it past the weekend. After you were gone. You didn't want to think about it as a frown creased your forehead. But it was like he knew what you were thinking, because he kissed you softly as you rode the elevator back up to your floor. 

Once the door closed and you were both alone in the hotel room, Bradley pulled his stained Padres shirt off, and you marvelled at his body once again. Snug jeans buttoned just below his belly button. Tan skin everywhere. Abs that you couldn't help but close the distance to him and trace with your fingers. 

Bradley cleared his throat as you dropped the bag from the shop to the floor, and he watched your fingers glide up his abs toward his solid chest. "What time is your exclusive interview?" he asked, his voice rough with need. "And where?"

"At 12:30. Across the street at the ballpark," you whispered, and then he had you in his arms. 

"I have an idea," he said, practically carrying you into the bathroom. "Let's take a shower together." You almost wanted to say no. You just knew that having his body all warm and slick and pressed up against yours would be almost too much. But then you were unbuttoning his pants, and he was stripping off the jersey and your jeans. 

The two of you made out as he cranked the water to hot, and the room was filled with steam by the time you wrapped your hand around his cock, and he followed you into the shower. Bradley stood behind you, blocking most of the hot spray as he ran his palms covered in body wash up and down the front of you. "Feel good?" he asked, smiling against your skin. Because of course it felt good to have his big hands on your nipples and rubbing your clit just right. 

This man barely had to do anything to get you off. Just his deep voice coaxing you along while he touched you. "Love those little noises, Ace. I love it when you say my name."

Your legs were shaking as you whined for him, and his sturdy body was the only thing keeping you upright as you saw stars. You came around two of his fingers shoved in your pussy while you rocked against his thumb on your clit. And before he could agree or disagree with your plan, you were on your knees for him with his cock in your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned as you took him deep without any warning. You were blinking against the water droplets that hit you in the face as Bradley guided you a little slower with one hand at the back of your head and the other  stroking your cheek. "You're the best, Ace," he crooned, the scars on his neck prominent against his Adam's apple and his voice strained. "So fucking good, Baby."

You let him guide you at the pace he wanted it, and you were rewarded with Bradley's voice practically growling your proper name as he filled your throat with his cum. You swallowed him down as you sucked until he had to pull you away from him and haul you to your feet. The shower wall was cold against your back and butt as Bradley devoured your mouth. You knew he must have tasted himself there as he sucked on your lip and licked your tongue. 

As the minutes passed, the tempo slowed, and the two of you eventually broke apart with matching smiles. You managed to finish showering as Bradley's rosy cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink. "You're really something else, Ace."

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

"I can't wear this," Bradley murmured as he pulled on the Angels shirt you'd purchased for him after breakfast. You and he really needed to get over to the ballpark so you could interview one of the players, and you looked like a million bucks in your jeans and casual blouse. But Bradley was in his jeans and a shirt that left nothing to the imagination. You could probably count his abs through this thing. But you were gaping at him and mumbling something. 

"You look hot," you gasped, eyes growing wider. "Like ridiculously hot, Bradley." 

He turned to look in the mirror, and there was a reason he bought extra large shirts. This one actually was a nice color on him, but the sleeves were tight on his biceps, and the whole thing was too snug across his chest. But he supposed it wasn't too terrible. It would get him through the day until he could get back home.

And then what? Would he see you at that same hotel in San Diego again? Would you want him to stay over with you? He was already itching to invite you to his house after the game tonight, but that seemed presumptuous. And having your body tucked against his all night long in a hotel room had some different implications than having your body next to his in his own bed. But he wanted it. He wanted to know what that would feel like. The specific way his own sheets would feel against his bare legs as you whispered good night with his arm wrapped around you. 

He shook his head and swallowed hard. "If you think I look okay, then let's get going." His voice sounded strange to his own ears, but you didn't seem to notice as you grabbed your bag with everything you would need and kissed his cheek.

"Seriously, it's almost too hot," you said, rubbing your hand along his belly and biting your lip. "And if anyone asks, you really are my assistant."

Bradley rolled his eyes to make you laugh, but upon arrival at the ballpark, he watched as you were searched for only the approved recording devices, and then he was searched as well. When someone asked him for his credentials, you pulled a pass from the plastic pouch on your lanyard. As soon as the guards examined the card with NEW YORK TIMES MEDIA EXCLUSIVE printed all over it, they seemed to be content to allow you both into the players only corridor. 

"Come on, intern Bradshaw. Don't dawdle," you scolded playfully. But when he reached for your hand, you just shook your head. "Not here," you whispered, and then Bradley followed you into a room filled with cameras and players and reporters. Filming was taking place all over the enormous room, and he supposed it would look bad for you if he was holding your hand in the background of a photo printed by the Chicago Tribune. 

"Who are you interviewing anyway?" he asked as you walked directly through the room and down another hallway that emptied out next to the Angels dugout. 

"Sheldon Darvish."

"Shit," Bradley murmured, because when he looked up, the pitcher who had been carrying the Angels through the postseason was right in front of him. He watched as you greeted the other man like you and he were old friends with a lingering handshake and some laughter. 

"Before we go on the record, I hope it's okay that I have a guest with me today?" you asked. "He doesn't have any recording devices on him."

Darvish barely spared a glance at Bradley where he leaned against the wall, nodding at him briefly before turning back toward you and saying, "It's fine with me. I've known you so long, I trust you."

"Okay, perfect," you replied, digging your recording device out of your bag as Sheldon Darvish sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to him. Then you sat awfully close to him and informed him that he was now on the record with you.

And Bradley was starting to have an issue with the way this guy was looking at you. While you kept your posture steady and set the recorder on the bench, Bradley watched Sheldon's eyes dip down to your blouse as you got your notebook and pen ready. And was his smile supposed to look charming when you asked him questions? Because he looked annoying to Bradley. This asshole probably thought he was hot shit, "accidentally" bumping your leg with his a few times. 

But this guy actually was hot shit. Bradley listened to you rattle off some of his statistics while Darvish shrugged like his killer pitching was nothing. He would probably be the Angels' ace starter next year. He was most definitely going to get a massive contract extension. His pitching had been phenomenal. He was actually handsome. And he was familiar with you. And now Bradley was wondering if you ever slept with this guy. 

The fact that he didn't have the right to feel jealous did not escape him, and Bradley even managed to evade the alarm bells going off in his mind when he told himself to pump the brakes. But then he had to watch as you finally ended the interview and turned off the recording device as you stood, and the pitcher's gaze followed your delicious body as you packed your bag again. 

"We're off the record," you told Darvish with a smile. "You didn't hear it from me, but good luck tonight. I know you're on short rest after your last start."

"Thanks," he replied easily, and when he stood, he was every bit as tall as Bradley. Maybe even taller. And now Bradley felt like an idiot standing here in a snug Angels shirt like he was some sort of fan of this guy who was currently asking you out. "Hey, if you're free right now, I'd love to take you to lunch. Anywhere you want. I have an hour or two before I need to start icing my shoulder."

You smiled and shook your head as you backed away. "That's never a good idea, and you know it. But I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

Before you could even turn all the way toward Bradley, Sheldon replied with, "Any time I see your name, I agree to an exclusive. Just in case you've changed your mind."

"Bye, Sheldon," you said with a little wave. Then you walked over to Bradley like he hadn't just witnessed something unsavory and asked, "You ready to go? I need some time to write this up and submit it."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. And he glared at the major league baseball player who was currently looking at your ass. Apparently you were so far out of Bradley's league, it was some sort of a joke. But he was jealous and annoyed, and on the walk back through the room with all the cameras, he asked, "Did you ever sleep with that guy?"

You glanced briefly up at him over your shoulder, but you didn't respond until you were alone in the hallway. And even then, you kept walking along instead of looking at Bradley as you said, "Are you seriously asking me if I ever had sex with Sheldon Darvish? Have I not made it clear to you that I value my career?"

Your voice was calm, but Bradley could tell right away that you were pissed off. And he didn't think it was because he struck the truth with his statement. He had just offended you and your professionalism. "Ace, I-"

"Did you not hear what he said about agreeing to exclusives?" you snapped as you picked up your pace. "I'm not oblivious to the fact that I am young and a woman. If I slam the door in Darvish's face and start yelling about how unprofessional it would be to sleep with him, then guess what... no more interviews. And that goes for a handful of other players and coaches, too. I can't play the game the same way as the boys, Bradley. It doesn't work that way."

"Shit," he muttered, lengthening his strides to keep up with you as you exited the hallway near the ballpark entrance. "Ace. I'm sorry. I was out of line for so many reasons."

You came to a stop in the deserted concourse and looked up at him with tears in your eyes. "No, I never slept with Sheldon Darvish. No, I don't sleep around when I'm on the job. You're an anomaly, Bradley Bradshaw. And you're free to get in your cool car and go back to San Diego any time you want."

"Ace!" he practically shouted as you turned away, reaching for your hand even though you would probably pull it away. But you didn't. So he kissed you like he'd been dying to for the past hour. Just a short, soft press of his lips to yours, but it was enough to convey what he wanted it to. "I got jealous. I'm sorry. I know you're a pro. I'm just an idiot."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you coming back with me while I write this thing?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

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

You sat perched on Bradley's lap while you proofread your newest piece on Darvish, and Bradley rubbed your back softly. As soon as you got back to the hotel room, you changed back into his Padres jersey instead of your stuffy blouse even though you knew you'd have to change back before the game tonight. 

"This is really good," Bradley murmured, reading over your shoulder. "I'm still surprised how quickly you can put an article together that makes me want to read it five times to catch all of the details."

Every time he said something so complimentary about your writing, you wanted to tell Greg Pfeffer to fuck off and then stay in California with Bradley. Your phone started ringing on the table next to your computer, and it was Greg himself. You pressed your index finger to your lips, warning Bradley not to talk, and then you answered the call and put it on speaker phone while you submitted your piece.

"Hi, Greg. Perfect timing, I'm about to send in my Darvish exclusive."

"I've been waiting for it," he barked in response. "Thursdays are slow as shit until the Thursday night football stats come in. You know this. I want to get this one online immediately."

You had to stifle a sigh as Bradley tightened his grip on you. "It's not even three in the afternoon here, Greg. But it's nearly finished, so I'll send it over now."

"Don't forget the hard cutoff tonight after the game."

And then Greg ended the call, and you were left with silence. Bradley kissed your neck and whispered, "He's such a fucking idiot. Doesn't appreciate what he's got." 

You could count on one hand the number of times you were a couple minutes late submitting an article in the past eight years. And maybe Bradley was right, but there was a price to be paid when you were at the top of your game. And that price was a lot higher for women. You submitted your article and waited for the receipt to arrive in your email inbox along with the daily recruitment emails. There was a pretty good chance Bradley caught a glimpse of the screen before you closed your computer and melted into his arms, but you didn't care. 

He held you silently on his lap just like that for a long time with his big hands keeping you warm and the steady rise and fall of his chest calming you. And then you must have fallen asleep. Because you jolted in his arms, and he chuckled, and the light coming in through the window looked different.

"What time is it?" you asked softly. 

"Four."

The game was at six, and you didn't want to move at all, so you let yourself indulge in Bradley for a little bit longer. You snuggled in closer and listened to his deep voice make suggestions that you knew you shouldn't consider. "I was thinking... you and I should go back to my place after the game tonight. I really should get to work tomorrow, and you could have a day off to rest before game six on Saturday. You know, somewhere other than a hotel room?"

"Yes." The word was out of your mouth so quickly, and he kissed the top of your head. It had been almost two months since you'd been in your own bed, and now you were curious to see what Bradley's place was like. You were convinced it would be as cozy as he was. "After the game tonight."

When you looked up at him, he was smiling. And that gorgeous smile was still there when you and he arrived at the crowded gate for the game. "Oh, shit. I wasn't even thinking you'd need a ticket," you said as you pulled out your pass. "I doubt there are any for sale, but I can ask-"

"I bought one online while you were napping."

You gaped at him. "How much did you spend?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied, holding up his phone to get the ticket scanned. "Worth every cent."

The warmth you were feeling carried over to the press box where Bradley smiled and waved at Quincy when he turned and glared in your direction. "You okay, man?" he asked him. "Game's happening in that direction." Bradley pointed down to the field until Quincy turned back around. "These assholes really are obsessed with everything you do," Bradley mumbled. "It's like they've never seen a woman outdoing them before."

You had to stifle your laughter during which was becoming a very boring game. After Darvish only pitched four innings, both teams started blowing through their backup pitchers to try to keep the score at 0-0 for as long as possible. Even your stats sheet was boring, and you weren't sure how you were going to make your article interesting. 

"I need to find a way to spice this up a little bit," you said before taking a sip from the water bottle Bradley fetched for you. "Because this game is not very interesting."

"I think it's fascinating, but that may just be because I'm sitting next to you," he replied from his folding chair with his leg pressed to yours. "Could be biased. And I can think of a way to spice things up."

You pressed your lips together before saying, "Tell me."

Bradley's eyes landed on the single room restroom as he said, "You're very good at baseball dirty talk. Write that shit into your article, and nobody will know what hit them."

"You really did like that, huh?" 

He groaned softly in response, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. "Pitching stats and batting averages in your voice... Baby, it's too damn hot."

You grinned as he was still wearing that snug Angles shirt which would have looked a little silly on most men. When you let your hand come to rest on his thigh at the top of the sixth inning, you whispered, "The Padres have a combined batting average that's almost five percent higher than the rest of the league."

"Tell me more," he whispered, his cheeks already growing rosy. 

After you made sure nobody was looking, you wrote down the pitch count and said, "I think it's because they change their batting order so frequently. Keeps the other teams guessing what's coming next."

You cupped his cock and felt him getting harder for you. "Give me a little more, Baby," he rasped.

You giggled as you said, "Did you know the Padres' left handed batters are better even than the 1979 Pirates?"

"Shit," Bradley gasped. "Let's go fuck in the bathroom." His cheeks were bright pink and he was rock hard. You nodded, because you were turned on too. And you knew this was more than just fucking; this was some deeply indulgent reaction you had to each other that needed to be explored. You took Bradley by the hand during the break in the inning, and reached into your tote bag. 

"How fast can you be?" you asked as you discreetly held up a condom.

"For you?" he asked as he followed you into the bathroom and started undoing his pants. "Fast."

Your hands were braced on the sink vanity, and your pants and underwear were down around your knees. "Oh my god," you whined as you watched your reflection in the mirror as Bradley sucked on your neck and fucked you from behind. He was going fast, his left hand next to yours while he stroked your clit with his right. 

"Usually I like taking my time with you," he grunted. "But a quickie in the press box? I'll be thinking about this for the rest of my life, Ace." Then he met your eyes in the mirror, and you were shocked to find yourself cumming for him as he railed you with sharp snaps of his hips. "Shit, Baby!" 

You tried your best to be quiet, and as soon as Bradley came, you spun around while he was catching his breath. "I'm going to sneak back out first," you whispered, kissing him hard on the lips and then fixing your pants. "See you out there."

You still had quite a few condoms left in your suitcase which made you smile. And you would be heading to Bradley's house in a few hours which made your smile grow. When he returned from the bathroom a minute later with his cheeks still pink and a little grin on his face, you had to cover your lips to keep from laughing. 

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

You were back on Bradley's lap in your hotel room as you finished your article. But this time your bags were all packed, and you were ready to return your rental car and hit the road with him. He was taking you back to his house, and he couldn't be happier. Granted, he was working very hard to keep himself from thinking about what was coming later this weekend. 

"Why are my notes blank right here?" you asked him, raising an accusatory eyebrow in his direction as you tapped your notebook. 

"Oops," Bradley replied, reaching around you to playfully add some text to your paragraph. He spoke out loud as he typed, "And this is the part of the sixth inning that I missed because I was in the bathroom with Bradley."

You laughed and backspaced the sentence as you said, "I mean, that would definitely spice up the article!"

"It was kind of a boring game five. I mean, the Padres only won by one run."

"I know," you said as you typed up some flowery nonsense about how the quiet crowd at Angels Stadium was an asset to the Padres. "Let's get out of here," you said, submitting your article. 

"Wait, you don't have to rush," Bradley replied, stilling your hands. "We can return your rental car and get on the road anytime."

"It's okay," you whispered. "This is as good as it's going to get. And my article will still be better than Quincy's."

"I don't doubt that," he said with a yawn. "Damn it, Ace. You're wearing me out."

After Bradley followed you to the rental car drop off, he hopped out of the still running Bronco and added your bags to the back. When you returned the keys and headed back toward him in the beams of his headlights, you reached for him. "Want me to drive so you can get a nap in? You have to work early tomorrow, and it's almost 11:30."

He didn't really want to miss a waking minute with you, but he was exhausted. And a ninety minute drive now would probably leave him in a zombie-like state at work tomorrow. "You don't mind?"

"No," you replied, and he walked you to the driver's side door and got the seat adjusted to where you needed it. 

"Thanks," he whispered, kissing you in the dark parking lot as he cupped your cheek. He helped you up and closed the door, and as soon as he entered his address into your phone GPS and handed it back to you, he was falling asleep. 

The soft music you selected on the radio sent him into some sweet dreams where you were still his at Thanksgiving and for Christmas and even on New Year's Eve. He dreamed about spending his birthday with you and his friends at the beach. And when he woke up to your soft voice and your hand on his leg, it just made sense. 

"We're here, Bradley," you were saying with a smile in your voice. "Wake up." And when he opened his eyes, he'd never seen anything prettier. Being near you just seemed right.

"Thanks for driving," he rasped as he sat up in his Angels shirt that he kind of couldn't wait to take off. "Let's get all your stuff inside." Really, you only had one piece of luggage and your tote bag. He could hardly understand how you stayed away from home for so long with so little. It made him feel sad as he carried your things inside. 

He knew his house was small, but it was comfortable and clean and everything he needed. But you gasped when you entered the cottage as Bradley turned on some lights. 

"Your place is huge!" you sighed, walking around and looking at his large TV and some of the photos of his parents that were hanging up. "And really tidy for a bachelor pad."

You were grinning at him as he led you to his bedroom. "Not sure if I left unfolded laundry on my bed. I was in a rush to get up to Anaheim to see you." But luckily his room was tidy, too. And you kicked off your shoes and started to undress like you belonged there as he set your bags down. 

"I need to charge my computer," you mumbled, walking around his room completely naked. "Can I borrow a shirt for bed? And where's your bathroom?"

Bradley pulled a TOP GUN shirt out of his drawer and handed it to you with a kiss. "Across the hallway." He watched you retrieve your toiletry bag and walk out of the room. He almost never had anyone else spend the night here with him. Occasionally Nat would pass out in the other room, and very rarely he'd let a girl stay overnight. But the last time that happened had been quite a while ago.

But the way you waltzed back into his room with your face clean of makeup and hugged him around the middle left him breathless. "Thanks for bringing me here. I can't even tell you how draining it is to always be in a hotel room. I just did the math when I was brushing my teeth: I haven't been in my own apartment in forty-nine nights."

Bradley was flabbergasted. "Forty-nine?! Ace, that's... way too many!"

"I know," you replied with a laugh. "And it'll probably be ninety before I get back there."

Bradley shook his head. "Come here." He tugged you toward his bed and pulled back the covers for you. "Get comfy. I'll be right back."

While he brushed his teeth and rinsed his face, Bradley thought about how you probably needed someone to take care of you occasionally. He wanted to do it. When he returned to his bedroom in his underwear, you looked so tiny wrapped up in his bedding with your head on his pillow, but you were smiling. 

"You do whatever you want tomorrow, okay? But I think you should rest," he whispered as he climbed in bed and pulled you close. "Help yourself to whatever is in my refrigerator. Use my washer and dryer. Look at the baseball cards in my garage. Whatever you want. But try to relax while I'm at work."

"Yes, sir," you mumbled against his shoulder. "Thanks for reminding me I need a break."

Bradley grunted in response and turned off his lamp, but the darkness just made his senses more alert. When he kissed the top of your head, he could tell you weren't asleep yet. He ran his hand down your arm until he was holding your hand, and he couldn't hold back the words that he spoke. "Tell me what it would be like to be in a relationship with you."

When you didn't respond right away, he felt embarrassed. He'd made a jealous fool of himself earlier over Sheldon Darvish when he had no right to you whatsoever. And now he was trying to push things too far. He was about to apologize as you kissed his shoulder again.

"Nobody actually wants to date me," you said softly. "Guys just think they do. They love the idea of me, I guess. And maybe they could even grow to love me. But it's too much for them. It always is. I'm never around, and it's impossible to get in contact with me when I can't take my phone into a four hour exclusive. And I'll miss your birthday and our anniversary," you said as you laughed a little bitterly. "I stopped celebrating my own birthday when I turned twenty three and couldn't figure out which day it was as I flew to Europe for the Olympics coverage." 

Bradley squeezed you and whispered, "I didn't ask what other guys thought, Ace. I asked what it would actually be like."

Once again, he was met with silence, and he realized it was because you were trying not to cry. He whispered an apology against your forehead as you said, "Parts of it would be fun, Bradley. But the other parts would be too hard, and I wouldn't want you to feel bad about losing interest in someone who you never saw."

He tipped your head up and kissed your lips. "I wouldn't lose interest. And I just really want to watch the Blue Jays with you."

You returned his kiss before you whispered, "I know." And then he let you turn so your back was to him. A minute later, you reached tentatively with your hand until you found his. Bradley let you wrap yourself up in his arms, and eventually you both fell asleep while he kissed your neck and tried not to tell you how he was really feeling.

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

He just wants to watch the Blue Jays with her. That's all he wants. This story is making me a lot more emo than I anticipated. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[koolades-world]

hiii i was wondering if you could write abt an asian mc ? with the brothers or the dateables i don't mind! i just think it would be funny to see yk asian mc who's a high achiever (so even at RAD when they know nothing abt magic they'll try to score high), always take off their shoes before entering a place (entering a place with shoes is forbidden !!), always cook rice or stuff from their country when on cooking duties ("wdym we already ate that when it was my turn last time?"), will make you special herbal tea if you're sick (first time i suggested to make tea for my ill white friend they laughed :( ), tells you to eat more and in the same fashion, whose love language is giving you food, etc... bonus point if mc swears in their mother tongue. And if the MC was living in their native country before going to the devildom, their ability to just nap anywhere as if it's normal.

As someone who grew up in an asian household it's just regular to me but i can picture the face Lucifer would make if the first time mc enter Dia's castle they take off their shoes casually or like MC stuffing Beel's mouth with food as if he just didn't swallow the biggest mouthful of udon ever saying "come on Beel you need food, you need strength to play Fangol"

For the nap thing i was thinking about my relatives who take nap on their wooden bad or just the floor during summer (cause its fresh yk). My grandma always said a hard bed is good for the back lol

Anyway no pressure!! Have a nice day and take care !

hi!! yes of course :)

i'm a different flavor of asian but some of the culture overlaps so this was fun to write! haha the amount of times my grandma has urged me to eat more is hard to count. oh and the amount of tea i drank when we went to visit. i'll never forget watching her make the tea because it was a whole experience

i'm half indian and someone actually requested an indian mc so that will be out tomorrow because doing these requests back to back easiest for me!

enjoy <3

Asian Mc

Lucifer

you're ALWAYS on him for the amount of coffee he drinks

you also always make sure he takes a break to eat dinner because he needs to eat in order to continue his work

despite how bothered he might seem sometimes, he really does value what you do for him

plus, you not only keep yourself in line, sometimes you do his brothers for him too. thanks on his behalf!

Mammon

once you grow closer, he's asking you to teach him swear words so he can cuss out lucifer

if you don’t, well, he’ll just pick them up when you swear and hope he can figure out what it means haha

if you want, feed him random words, or even compliments so when lucifer hears them, he'll just be confused haha

despite the fact that he's the demon, maybe you can help him in class

Levi

when he first meets you, he'd not sure what to expect

however he quickly learns you're the best at everything you do

this includes video games and everything of that manner

he's got competition now, but he has no clue how you got so good considering it was probably your first time at all of the games you've tried

Satan

he's impressed by your work ethic and desire to achieve

you got dropped in a totally new environment and instead of struggling to adjust like he predicted, you bounced back almost immediately and were at the top of your class like it was nothing!

he tried to ask you once why you seemed so determine to get the best grade and never asked again after the look you gave him

something the two of you can bond over, though, is tea! he can often be seen with a cup of tea so that's an easy conversation starter between the two of you if not homework instead

Asmo

while initially he thought you two might not get along, you actually do quite well

he's huge on no shoes in the house and especially in his room

after all, he wants to avoid bringing as many outside germs into his room as possible

can and will ask you to teach him how you make your special herbal teas because he hates being sick and genuinely just wants to know

Beel

he falls in love with your rice cooker

rice that easy and that quick? sign him up! if he didn't already love rice you've put him on it

he doesn't think he could ever part with you and your wonderful cooking

even if you do cook the same thing every time it's your turn, he will inhale it because not only is it delicious, but you're an amazing cook

Belphie

even he's impressed by your ability to fall asleep anywhere

at least he's always with his pillow and maybe a blanket but he's seen you just curled up on the porch waiting for someone to get home

but that sighting was rare, because he felt like he always saw you doing something

however he really appreciated all the little things you did for him, such as making his bed