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chantersboard · 1 day ago

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Spackle

2.5K. super!Joel x f!reader. Joel is your building's hot super and he helps put in your air conditioner on a hot NYC day.

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, no outbreak AU, unprotected piv, creampie, Joel is punny

a/n: I hate that I had to youtube how to install an air conditioner for this because I had my own super put mine in lol. I also got the plant thing from my super. he was really interested in my dragon scale when he caught me bringing it home.

EDIT: thought I should give a quick definition of a super to those that may not know. A superintendent, or more commonly known as a super, is the property manager for an apartment. They often live on-site, or if your landlord owns multiple buildings, usually in a nearby building. They deal with the structure, safety, and cleanliness of the building. If your toilet is clogged you call the super. If you locked yourself out of your apartment you call the super. Supers will also do things like shovel snow, clean shared areas, bring out the garbage for sanitation, and minor adjustments to your apartment such as patching holes and replacing damaged floorboards.

as always you can see #chantersboardwritessometimes for other stuff I've written

Spackle

With labored breath you take the final step to reach the fifth floor. Sweat beads down your face as you haul a load of groceries to your door. You place the bags down and fumble in your pocket for your keys.

This summer in New York City has been brutal. The temperature is oppressive and the humidity is stifling. In the short walk from the grocery store to your apartment, your thin, breathable top was already sticking to your skin. You needed to cool down but there would be no reprieve, even after you entered your home. While you had purchased a brand new air conditioner, the building’s management still hadn’t answered your email about assistance getting it installed.

Just as you push your key into the lock and twist the core, your neighbor’s door swings open.

“Thank you again, Joel.” You hear the old woman say.

“Of course, Mrs. Nunez,” Joel says.

The building’s superintendent, Joel Miller, walks out of the old lady’s apartment. He’s an older man, tall with broad shoulders and toned arms. The hair on his sparse beard is sprinkled with gray, much like the thick hair that curls around his ears. He’s a little rounded about his midsection, but it doesn’t distract from how undeniably handsome he is.

“Anytime you need help again just call management.” His voice floats through the air. The southern accent that turns his words into music is out of place in this fast paced city.

As you push open your door you turn to look at him. His short sleeve navy blue shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a clean white tank top underneath. His jeans sit nicely on his hips, the knees of them the only dirty thing about him, other than his scuffed and paint splattered boots. He juggles his tool bag between his hands and the muscles in his forearms tense and loosen.

On more than one occasion you have wondered what those arms feel like. A grown man like him, working with his hands all day, carrying around that heavy tool bag. You imagine your hands sliding up his arms, squeezing the muscles along the way before landing on his chest that bursts through his tank.

You swallow hard, excusing your fantasy on the maddening heat, and wave at the super.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Orchid,” he walks across the hall, bringing the scent of cedar with him. Joel very well knows your name but has called you Orchid since he saw you bringing home the flowered plant when you first moved in. You were so gobsmacked at the idea of him giving you a nickname that you let it stick.

“Good afternoon, Joel,” you say, your eyes trained on his lips curled into an easy smile. Snap out of it! “I was wondering if management spoke to you about my air conditioner?”

Joel’s features twist in confusion. “I don’t think so, lemme check.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it for a while. “Nope. I only have a work order here for Mrs. Nunez.”

“Oh,” you say dejectedly. “I emailed them late on Thursday but I guess with Friday and then the weekend they didn’t see it.”

“What’s a’matter, Orchid?” The concern he displays makes you melt even more in the heat.

“I normally wouldn’t bother you like this but it’s just so hot.” Joel really looks at you then, taking in the way your shirt clings to your curves then looking at the length of your legs in the littlest pair of shorts you could find. You swallow hard again. “I have the support bracket and everything but I didn’t want to put it in wrong or something. I would rather someone who knew better put it in me—for me!—put it in for me, I mean,” you stammer.

Joel chuckles, the joy in his eyes making him even more attractive. “Well we can’t have a pretty lady like you suffer in this heat. I’ll put it in for ya.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank you so, so much Joel.” You bend to grab your groceries off the floor and notice Joel watches as you do so. The thought of him looking at your behind makes you pulse between your legs. You shuffle inside, head straight for the kitchen, and begin loading the cold things into the fridge.

“Everything’s there in the living room,” you yell across the apartment. “I’ll be there in a bit. I don’t want these popsicles to melt. Can you put it in that first window?”

You hear Joel moving stuff about, probably pulling the AC out of its box, then you hear the window scraping open.

“Yeah, this window’ll do just fine.”

As you continue unloading your groceries you can hear more movement, than the whirr of Joel’s power drill. Once the last item is neatly tucked away you yell out into the other room again.

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Soda? Corona?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You come out of the kitchen with a popsicle in hand. Joel is bent over, part of his body hanging out the window as he installs the support bracket for the air conditioner. Now it’s your turn to look at his behind. He comes back in and lowers to pick up the AC off the floor. You make no attempt to hide that you’ve been watching him.

“What about a popsicle?” You ask, dangling the wrapped frozen treat in the air.

“No, you go ahead and enjoy that, sweetheart,” he drawls.

You shrug, rip open the package, and bring the red, white, and blue dessert to your lips. The cold sensation immediately washes over you. You close your eyes and welcome the relief. You push the popsicle further into your mouth and moan as the cold syrup slides down your throat. When you open your eyes again Joel is still there, squatting over the air conditioner, looking up at you.

“That good, huh?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have one of ‘em after I finish?”

You pull the popsicle out of your mouth with an audible pop and lick your lips. “Yeah, sure.”

The super continues his work. He lifts the heavy machine with ease and pushes it into the open window. You walk over to him and watch as he lowers the window and begins drilling screws into the frame. He opens the fins on either side of the device then screws those into place as well. The whole ordeal doesn’t take long at all with Joel's swift, knowledgeable hands. He takes the dangling power cord and pushes it into the wall socket.

“Ready to try it?” He asks, his large index finger hovering over the power button. “Come close, now.”

You walk over to Joel and press yourself close to him so you’re both in front of the window unit. “Go ahead,” you say, pushing the popsicle back into your mouth.

Joel pushes the button and the machine rattles on. For a brief moment it pushes out horribly hot air but then the temperature drops and it hums as it pushes out a steady stream of cool air.

“Aww, yessss,” you mumble around the popsicle. In your happiness your mouth opens and some of the melted dessert dribbles out.

“You’ve got—” Joel’s finger brushes up your chin, catching the sugary liquid “—popsicle on ya.”

You look up at him and see desire in his eyes. The image makes your pussy throb. Before Joel can pull his hand away you grab his wrist and wrap your lips around his sticky digit. You swirl your tongue around his thick finger then begin to suck on it.

His free hand comes to your waist and he pulls you close. Your breasts press against him, your nipples beginning to harden as you continue sucking his finger. Joel lets loose a deep moan. The vibration goes through you and ends at the wetness that has started pooling in your panties. You release his finger as you did the popsicle, the loud pop rings through the room.

Joel licks his lips as he looks at yours. “Is there anything else I can fix ‘round here?”

A playful grin spreads across your face and you pull on his hand, leading him out of the living room. You discard your popsicle on the coffee table as you pass it and lead him into your bedroom.

“There’s this hole—” you say, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you remove your shirt. You lean back onto one of your elbows and spread your legs wide. Joel’s eyes immediately snap to where you rub yourself through your shorts. His own hand feels against the tent growing in his jeans. “—that I’m hoping you can fill.”

Joel smirks, his hard cock pushes against the confines of his jeans. “I might have the right tool,” he says as he undoes the buckle on his pants. He lowers his jeans along with his boxers to his knees, freeing his massive cock. “I would have to see the hole first.”

Your eyes are wide in amazement at the size of him. Joel is large and thick. You watch him wrap his fingers around his dick and lazily stroke himself. His large head bobs with each stroke, the slit at the end already pearling with precum.

You kick off your shoes and lift your behind off the bed to remove your panties and shorts all at once. You spread your legs wide again and run your fingers through your pussy lips. You’re so aroused there’s an audible wet noise when you spread your lips to show Joel the hole of your waiting cunt.

Joel tuts and steps between your legs. He presses against your chest with the flat of his hand and forces you to lay down. With his cock in hand, he swipes along your slit, spreading your slick juices over himself. When he speaks his voice is dark.

“Beautiful fucking flower my Orchid has.” He rubs his head against your clit and you gasp as the pleasure spikes across your body. “Is it as sweet on the inside as it looks on the outside?”

He lowers his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of you. Your legs begin to shake as his thick head spears into you. Deeper and deeper he goes. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes into you, going slowly to give your body time to accommodate the unbelievable size of his unit. He pauses once he’s fully inside and you can see the need twisted in his face.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweetheart,” he says, pulling out the tiniest bit and pushing back in. “I know it’s big but you’re taking it so well right now.”

You look up in complete awe of him, having no control over the way your pussy squeezes around him. He lowers a thumb to your bud and rubs gently, causing you to throw your head back with a long groan. He slowly pulls halfway out of you, then slides back in.

He goes a while like this, rubbing your clit tantalizingly slow, and softly pumping in and out of you until he’s able to pull almost completely out then back in with ease.

Joel picks up the pace as your body relaxes, yet he’s still incredibly large and your tight ring pulses around him. His hips rut faster as his thumb moves quicker. He wants to fuck into you with everything he has. Thrust. He wants your release on his shaft. Thrust. He wants his dick to destroy you. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

“Oh my god, Joel!”

A growl rumbles in his chest. “Yes, Orchid. I think I have the right tool for this hole.” He’s moving faster now. Harder now. He splits you in two over and over again as his giant cock rams into your soaking wet hole. “It needs some drilling!”

Joel completely lets himself go then. Snapping his hips, driving his member in and out of you as his thumb still circles your clit mercilessly. You cry out, pleasure wracking every fiber of you. It’s a lot to take in, the size of him, the mind melting thrusts, the constant pressure on your clit. You’re moaning his name over and over again as the headboard rocks against the wall. You are dizzy with desire and you feel an orgasm is soon approaching.

Joel removes his finger from your clit and swipes it against his tongue. He savors the taste of you and licks his lips. “You’re fucking sweet, Orchid. You know that? Ya gotta pretty and tasty pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you cream on my cock for me? You’re so sweet and tight I won’t last much longer.”

His large hands push on the back of your thighs, folding your legs against you. The subtle change in position allows him to stroke even deeper inside you and his large head now hits against that sweet spot that has you grabbing the sheet underneath you.

“Jesus, Joel,” you gasp as he continues to ram into you. The wet sound of your pussy mingles with Joel’s moans of pleasure, the melody of your sex creating a heady mix that has the building pressure in your core creep closer and closer to climax.

“Yes, just like that, Orchid, my sweet fucking flower.” His fingers dig into your thighs and his tempo begins to falter. He’s dangerously close to finishing. “Come for me baby. Come on my cock.”

With a guttural groan your pleasure peaks, the pressure in your core snaps and your orgasm finally washes over you. Joel continues to ram into you, each deep drag of his dick sending more waves of bliss across every inch of your body.

With a few more thrusts, he follows you. His hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you tight against him as his cock twitches inside you. His spend releases deep inside you, coating your walls as he moans between deep gasps of air.

When his cock has finally stopped twitching, he slowly pulls out of you then lowers close to your cunt. He watches the mixture of your release spill out of you before he scoops it in his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

“Gotta make sure this hole stays filled, Orchid.” Two of his thick fingers slip into you and your sensitive hole tightens around his fingers. “Unless…” he pulls his fingers out and smears the slick along your slit. “You want me to come back another time and try filling it again?”

You peer at him between your legs, still swiping up your slit trying to keep your hole filled. “I might need regular visits,” you innocently say, squeezing your core and forcing some of the come out of you. “This hole just won’t stay filled!”

Joel grins as he continues to play between your lips. “I can’t have you go complainin’ to management that I’m a bad super, now. Give me a call, day or night, and I’ll come and fill that hole again. I’ll fill that hole everyday if that’s what it’ll take.”

You smile at the prospect of getting drilled then filled by your super on a daily basis. “Yes, Joel. I can make that work.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #super!joel miller #superintendent!joel miller #chantersboardwritessometimes

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melodic-echoes · 16 hours ago

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Paradise in the Sky

Pairing: Caleb x reader/mc

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of last night (nothing actually happens though), slight angst, my (new) headcanon of Caleb making things float unconsciously when he's happy

Word count: 1.2k

Synopsis: In his quiet home, your worries and problems seem like they belong to another world. The only worries you have here are the random floating objects when a certain gravity evol-user becomes too happy.

You’re greeted by warm sunlight shining through the curtains when you wake up. Squinting, you turn around to see Caleb still asleep beside you. It was rare to be able to see his sleeping face. Before leaving for the Aerospace Academy, he would get up before you so he could act as your alarm clock and cook breakfast. Now, he rarely slept at all due to nightmares he still refused to tell you about. You had some idea of what they were about given the many times he would reach out to hold you when he was startled awake, but you chose not to pry until he was ready to share his fears with you. All you could do was stay by his side and show him you were strong enough to shoulder some of his burdens as well until that time came.

But right now, in his quiet home, those dark moments seemed to be far away like they were part of another life. Staring at his peaceful face, you wanted to pretend everything was still like before – before you lost grandma, before you lost Caleb, before he became the colonel of the Farspace Fleet, before you learned your best friend had secrets to keep from you. It was easy to pretend when you were lying so comfortably in bed with the person you were most worried about sleeping by your side. You gently reach out and caress his face, but you stop when you're surprised by a warm hand sliding on top of yours. “I didn’t know you learned how to launch sneak attacks while someone is sleeping,” he teases as he opens his violet eyes to meet yours.

“Caleb!” you exclaim as you snatch your hand back. “You should have just told me you were awake!”

“Okay. Okay. I as wrong for not telling you I was awake,” he says while leaning up to ruffle your hair. He seems to see something in the expression on your face as he momentarily looks worried before quickly hiding it with a smile and adding, “What? Are you scared to touch me now that you know I’m awake?”

“Oh, I’ll touch you if that’s what you want,” you say as you climb on top of him to be able to squeeze his cheeks. This prompts him to burst into laughter while falling back into the pillows.

He allows your assault to continue for a little longer before flipping your positions and holding your hands still as you continue to reach for him. After a minute of struggling against his hold, you realize it’s a futile effort and give up with a pout aimed pointedly at him. Smiling, he lets go of your hands to brush his thumb over the marks he left on your neck the night before. “Should you be moving around this much? Aren’t you tired?

You cross your arms and give him an exaggerated huff as you answer, “Someone was too excited after getting back from the Deepspace Tunnel yesterday. Now, I don’t have the energy to even get off the bed. I won’t forgive you unless you make me breakfast.”

If anything, your response only seems to make him happier as his tenderly kisses your forehead while murmuring, “Guess I should get going so I can start earning your forgiveness. Stay here, and I’ll be back soon.”

You watch as Caleb goes to the closet to grab some clothes. He’s almost finished putting them on when you notice something strange about the bed. After looking down, you call out his name, but the only response you get is a quiet hum to indicate he’s listening.

“Caleb,” you start again. “Could you put down the bed?”

He turns around, confused at your strange request, only to find the bed hovering off the floor from the unconscious use of his evol. He sheepishly rubs the back of his head with one hand while guiding the bed to land softly on the floor with his other. “Whoops, guess I was too excited to cook for you again.”

Your only response to that is a fond sigh. It wasn’t the first time things had started hovering in the air from his happiness but it had been a while since you’ve seen it happen since he had been away for so long.

After he leaves the room, you flop over to try and get more sleep but it seems like you’re already fully awake. You decide to revel in this peace for a little longer as you stare at the ceiling while listening to Caleb finish brushing his teeth and rummage around in the kitchen to gather all the ingredients for breakfast. Resigned to staying awake and leaving the warm comfort of the bed, you decide you might as well join Caleb in the kitchen and bother him while he’s cooking.

When you step into the kitchen area after brushing your teeth and changing into loungewear, you’re greeted by the sweet smell of french toast. Caleb is still standing by the stove while dropping the remaining bread slices into the batter with his evol. You sneak behind him and snake your arms around his waist, tenderly nuzzling the junction where his mechanical arm meets his shoulder. He momentarily tenses before quickly relaxing, still unused to your affections directed to the part of himself he hates most. He knows that's also why you direct all your affection there; you want to show him you love every part of him, even the ones he hates most.

“Didn’t someone say they couldn’t get off the bed?” he asks teasingly while flipping the slice of toast in the pan.

You continue nuzzling his back while replying, “I couldn’t go back to sleep so I got up. Since I’m already up, what should we do on your first day back?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so I’ll make all your favourites tonight. We’ll need to go out for groceries, though,” he suggest.

You hum contentedly at his answer, already imagining the delicious food he’ll cook you tonight. “Don’t forget to make your signature dumplings, braised chicken wings, mapo tofu, braised pork belly, and corn ribs!” you list out happily.

“You’re making it sound like I run a restaurant. But sure, I’ll make anything you want. Since when have I been able to deny your requests? Is there anything else you want to do today?” he asks as he turns around to cup your face.

You pretend to think for a second before saying, “After we get groceries, let’s stop by the arcade. I want to see what plushies you have in Skyhaven. We can also go to the café to play kitty cards so I can get my revenge for last night.”

“We can do whatever you want but first, you need to eat breakfast,” he answers with a fond smile. Despite saying this, he makes no move to turn back to the stove and continues to gaze at you adoringly.

Behind him, you see something float by and turn back to him with an exasperated look. Pointing behind him, you say, “If you want to finish making breakfast, you’ll have to put everything down first.”

Confused, he turns back around only to see a half-cooked slice of french toast floating at eye level with the batter dripping on the floor and the pan swaying in the air only a few centimeters below it. The bowl holding the remaining batter and bread was also hovering in the air, and the batter would have already been on the floor if he hadn’t been unconsciously using gravity to hold everything together.

“Whoops. I guess you'll need to wait a little later for breakfast.”

#caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace #lnds #caleb fluff

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harlowsbby · 2 days ago

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Another trend

(this fic is based off one of those lil viral tik tok trends)

“So what are we doing again? Is this shit going to stress me out again.” Jack sighed as you sat him down in front of your phone.

“I promise it’s something easy just a little trend I saw going around.” Jack rolled his eyes but nonetheless sat down.

Jack wasn’t exactly a fan when it came to all of these new trends you decided to do and try out.

“What’s it about?” He asked and patted the spot next to him for you to sit down which you did.

“Okay so you have to rate different hugs you’d be okay with another guy giving me.” You explained the rules to him.

The minute those words came out of your mouth Jack looked at you like you had two heads growing out of your neck. “Excuse you?” He scoffed.

“You heard me babe.” You stiffed a laugh as he huffed. “Why do you do this to me? I would never be okay with another man hugging you unless it’s me.”

“Oh come on grumpy it’ll be fun I promise. We’re gonna rate the hugs from one to ten with ten being the worse and one being okay.” You explained the general rules to him.

Jack sighed dramatically as you set up the camera. Before you pressed record you made sure the two of you were in the frame.

“Hi guys!” You smiled into the camera as you started your introduction. “Today I’m with Jack and he’ll be rating different hugs he’d be okay with another guy giving me.” You told the fans.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just for the record I would never be okay with this. Just for any guys out there watching this don’t even think about hugging my girl.” He glared into the camera making you giggle.

“Okay, okay let’s start so you tap the screen and the first hug will appear.” He moved his finger to the screen before taping it.

He watched intently as the different positions shuffled across the screen before landing on the first hug. He smiled seeing it was the ‘polite hug’

“Okay we’re starting off right I would actually approve of this hug ima rate this a one.” You rolled your eyes as he placed it to number one and shuffled the hugs again.

“The self hug? Oh so this hug you just hug yourself? shit put that at two.” You put it at two and shuffled the screen again. “The hug at the waist? What the hell he’ll literally be touching you with his dick with this one.”

“Jack!” You laughed as he looked at you in utter shock. “Put that shit at fucking ten that’s the worse one.” He cried out.

“Like look at it he’s literally pressing all up on you. Let me find out you fantasize about shit like this, you trynna cheat on me?” He raised his grows but you paid him no mind and shuffled the hugs again.

“A group hug hmm put that at number three yeah.” Jack clicked his tongue still irritated from the last hug. “A slow dance hug? be fucking serious Y/N.” You giggled.

“What?! You act like I’m out here doing this with a bunch of guys.” He side eyed you before placing that hug at number nine.

“Not the side eye that’s insane.” He huffed. “I don’t know what you do when you’re out running these supposedly errands.”

“The next one is the cuddle hu- Y/N turn this shit off because you got my blood pressure on ten.” You doubled over in laughter as Jack shook his head at you. “Put that shit at eight I guess.”

“The classic hug finally a good one put that at four.” He sighed. “You know we need to do this with you once we’re done. I want to see what hugs you’d be okay with me giving other girls.”

You scoffed. “You ain’t hugging no other girl unless it’s Maggie.” His jaw flew open. “Not the double standards that’s crazy.”

“The next one is the back hug I think the fuck not that’s our thing we do that.” He looked at you the hurt evident in his eyes.

“What?” You raised your hands in defense. “Jack it’s a prank I’m not actually doing this.” You laughed. “Put it at a seven the next one is the resting heads on each other hug? Put that at a six.”

“How many of these do we have left Y/N? I don’t like this game.” You snickered. “Just two left I promise.”

You clicked shuffle again and landed on the eye to eye hug. Jack turned to the side and looked at you and it looks could kill you’d definitely be dead. “Dead ass? The eye to eye hug so you’re looking guys in the eyes now when you hug them you’re just out here cheating on me.”

You chuckled. “Jack it’s a prank! I don’t do this shit.” He clicked his tongue. “You know what let’s do one more and wrap this up because I think we’re gonna need couples therapy after this.”

You giggled and coo’d at him but nonetheless shuffled the hugs one last time you bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from laughing at the final hug.

“The pick pocket hug?! So you just got this man’s whole ass hand in your pocket touching all up on your ass??” Jack was in utter disbelief. “Add another box dammit.” You were a laughing mess at his little crash out moment.

“Y/N I’m being serious add another box because that’s number eleven ain’t no way in hell is another man touching your ass. You know what I’m done with this and I’m done with you.”

Jack stood up and you grabbed his hand trying to pull him back but with him being much stronger he ended up pulling you along with him, you were sitting on the floor as he dragged you along with him as he walked away.

“Jack it’s a joke baby I would never do any of this.” You giggled as the tears started falling from your eyes due to the amount of laughter.

“No I don’t wanna hear it baby at all.” The rest of the night was spent reassuring your big baby of a man that you would never in a million years allow a man to hug on you.

- a few nights later -

“Jack.” You called out for him and smiled when he appeared not even a second later in your shared bedroom.

“Yeah babe?” You watched as he made his way to the bed and took a seat next to you. “You wanna do a little challenge?” He rolled his eyes. “Remember how the last challenge went?”

“This time I promise it won’t be bad.” He sighed. “You always say this Y/N and nine times out of ten it’s always bad, but let me hear it.”

“So this is similar to the rate the hugs but instead of hugs it’s rating what type of different kisses my boyfriend would be okay with me giving to other men.”

Jack’s entire mind went blank he didn’t understand or wasn’t sure on how to process what you just said. “You know what I think ima go.” He said and you giggled as he left out of room, not without slamming the door of course.

(I’m just posting this to clear out my drafts I was planning on deleting this piece but Ima just let this be the last fic I’ll ever post 😭. Anyways I don’t plan on this doing well since it’s dead as fuck on here now but oh well. Whoever reads this I hope you find it funny? 😭 shit idkkk)

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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lostintransist · 2 days ago

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Tears of Dreams and Memories | AU

For anyone who needed a happy ending instead of my gut punch of an original, I apparently can be "bullied" by my friends into "fixing" my issues.

After a close call with some creeps, you are put forth by Ghost as the liaison for the 141. A friendship blooms with the whole team and leads to a work visa and a job opportunity with the 141. A job turns into a live-in situation with Simon and a betting pool as to when one of you will crack and finally confess.

AO3 | Original | Original on AO3

Special shout out to an IRL friend and @demothers-empty-blog for helping me get past my slump on this one.

You shouldn’t be running down the halls of the base. You know you shouldn’t be running. But fuck all if they weren’t right on your heels. The men had come back on base drunk and the creepy ones had searched you out. You choked down the sobs that threatened to escape. If you could just get far enough away you might be ab—

You slam into something hard. You had taken the corner fast, a hand still behind you on the wall to help you pivot. You look up, and up, and up. A hard skull mask stares down at you. Blackout paint hides everything beyond the whites of his eyes.

Maniacal laughter starts up from behind you. You can’t stop the flinch that wracks your body. Shifting your aim for the pocket of space between the man and the wall, your socks shift ever so slightly against the inside of your boots. His hand shoots out, grasping your arm before you pass him.

“Wait.”

The tone reeked of a command. No one gave commands on a base like this unless they knew they had the authority to back up the demand. The thump of steps against the thin carpet have you letting out a high-pitched keen and pulling against the bear paw holding you in place.

“Please, please, please let me go.” You barely understand the words tripping off your tongue.

Barbed wire is wrapped around your spine, it pulls tight when two men appear at the end of the hall.

“Ho ho! You found her! Our friend here owes us a good time tonight for bailing on drinks off base.” The blond sways only in his eyes, shifting over your breasts and ass.

The man with the black hair just leers, it’s almost worse.

The man holding you makes no move to let you go or tell off the men who followed you over half of the base for their ‘fun’. A change in the air occurs, a pin of a grenade hitting the dirt.

The hand on your arm tightens. The British accent surprises you, the base had been briefed that a unit on loan from the UK would be joining them for a few months. The line repeated to every man and woman below a certain rank is to leave them alone and if you have any questions submit them to the liaisons.

“Get back to your rooms, you have two seconds to get out of my sight or I will be having a chat with your base commander in the morning.”

They gape at skull man, their drunk minds stumbling trying to catch up.

“What?” The blond questions.

“One.”

Both men start to back up, and the menace in that single word tightens around your throat. You escaped two predators only to land with a stronger one.

“Tw—”

The soldiers take off, the threat finally processes past the alcohol. You pinwheel your arm as their boots disappear behind the corner. You break free of the grip on your arm and start forward away from this new evil. One step is all you can take before arms wrap tight around your chest. He caught your arms too, fingers dangling by your thighs.

All the fight in your body leaves, and your brain decides that there is no escape. Your head rolls forward, you don’t even have the energy to blink.

When your position changes your mind starts recording new memories. Looking around you find yourself on a chair in the kitchen connected to the mess hall. The beast of a man stands in front of you slowly adding hot water to a cup. Your breaths pick up speed, fingers curling on the edge of the chair.

Skull face turns and drops a knee in front of you. He looms close but doesn’t touch any part of you.

“None of that now, I am not here to hurt you. We are just having some tea and then I will walk you to your room.” He speaks with a slow tone as if coaxing a feral cat from beneath a car.

You can’t tell where his accent is from, England for sure but not the common one associated with the country in your mind.

“I..I…I don’t..don’t…like tea.” You stutter at him.

You see his brows draw down despite the mask.

“Well, I will give you a warm cup to hold while I drink my tea then.” His voice is as deep as it should be with the breadth of his shoulders.

He stays on his knee, looking you over until at some point known only to him, he stands. He removes the tea bag from both cups. He adds a splash of milk to both cups and an ungodly amount of sugar. He gives both a quick mix and hands you one. He pops a hip on the stainless steel counter. He’s so damn tall he has his left foot flat on the floor and still comfortably sit on the counter his right foot swaying slightly.

“Can you even,” deep shuddering breath, “call that tea with how much sugar is in it?”

“Can’t call it anything if you don’t try it,” he slips a finger below his mask lifting it enough to fit the mug to his mouth. He wears gloves too.

Once the mask cleared the edge of his jaw you slam your head down. You stare at the tea, the milk slowly swirling into the water. You turn away and take a sip. The idea of milk and water as a drink still didn’t compute but the sugar masked any issues you might have had.

You sip at the drink finishing only about half when the sounds of movement bring your head back to the scary man in the room with you. His hand is stretched out to you. Glancing up and down it you slowly place your cup in his hand. You don’t feel so adrift after the quiet company.

You stand, awkwardly holding your elbows while he rinses the cups and spoon, leaving them in the empty sink. When he turns back to you he motions with his fingers for you to head out of the kitchen. You do as instructed. He picks up the chair on his way out. You hold open the swinging door, manners ingrained from childhood. He nods his thanks, tucking the chair just so below the table.

You don’t move until he looks at you. You let the door swing shut and begin to lead the way back to your room. Once you clear the doors of the mess hall he falls into step with you. You walk the brightly lit halls, walls dotted with darkness for windows. He remains a steady presence at your side until you stop in front of a door that looks exactly like the others.

“Thank you for your help,” you stare at your boots, curling your toes inside them.

“Lock your door tonight.”

With that final command, he turns and walks away. You don’t know where the UK team is staying but it is nowhere near the dorms you slept in. You do as instructed, locking the door behind you after you confirm that your roommate is already in bed, snoring lightly. Sleep comes slowly, a skull mask haunting you behind your eyelids.

✮✮✮

Price stares down at his tea, blinking slowly. He sat in an empty officer’s room. The base commander was courting the 141. He had yet to come out with the goal of this collaboration. He wonders absently if the tip of a flask would make the morning meetings easier to handle.

A file is slapped down on the table in front of him. Ghost sits down, a seat between them.

“I want this one.”

Price blinks at the file, his cup, and then finally his lieutenant.

“It is too early for this. Speak clearly. What do you want?”

In lieu of answering Ghost reaches over and flips open the folder. It’s a personnel file. A neutral-faced woman stares out at him from the small photo.

“I am not helping you get a girlfriend, Ghost.”

His joke doesn’t land. Ghost snatches the mug of tea from his hand.

“Don’t be crass, I hate the team the base commander has given us to work with. I want this one.”

“You want a soldier right out basic who knows next to nothing about this base and has probably never even met the commander to be our new point of contact?” Price can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Ghost slurps at the tea. Price sighs and massages right above his eyebrows. This would be a hard sell to the base commander.

“I’ll see what I can do, now get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to see you until lunch.”

✮✮✮

The wrinkles on the base commander’s face absorbed light like a black hole. Price stood before the man’s desk, face neutral.

“You want to change from the team of our hand-chosen soldiers to accommodate any need you have on base for a baby? Am I understanding that right?” He flipped through the file Ghost had dropped on the table just this morning.

“My lieutenant has a tendency to eat anyone he doesn’t tolerate.”

“He eats people?” the commander cut in.

“I have no confirmation of if he actually eats people, commander, only that he will chew through any team you give him until they all beg for reassignment. To avoid that strain on your teams I am asking that you give us this one soldier who has been requested.” Price lays the facts out reasonably, tone hinting that the commander would be an idiot to ignore this request.

“How did they even meet? We have strict orders for most of our people to not interact with your team at all,” he tossed down the file on this desk.

“I tend not to ask questions that will only result in a dead-eyed stare. He won’t tell me even if I asked, I’ve learned to roll with what he gives me.”

The commander steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of his office chair. Price noted the power move but was more concerned about what the mess hall would be serving for lunch. He wondered if he could put in a request for a clam chowder, the warm creamy soup would hit the spot.

“Alright, I will reassign your current team and give you this one soldier. The paperwork should be done by dinner. I will have her also move to your section as she will need to be on hand for your team.” The commander leaned back in his chair, “Is there anything else your team needs right now, Captain Price?”

“No sir, everything has been satisfactory. I have a few things to finish up, I will see you at the 1100 meeting.” Price extracts himself from the commander’s office, closing the door behind him.

Soap pushed off the wall falling into step.

“So we getting a new aide? Because Ghost requested one?” He groused. “Ghost who would have bit the aide from the last base if it didn’t mean removing his mask?”

Price smirked, “In all fairness that man was an areshole.”

“Aye he was, but why the request?” Soap pushed open the door they had come to. They were near the training grounds.

“Don’t know Soap. Why don’t we find out?” Price aimed for someone who looked to be in charge.

✮✮✮

You pause, looking around. You were almost sure that someone had just called for you. You look around and see a man waving you down from the edge of the training area. You check that you are clear to cross before jogging over.

“Good, come with me.”

You follow. When you finally slow you are presented to two men. They had to be members of the 141 with skull face. One man, taller than you but not by much kept a trimmed beard, crow’s feet around his eyes. The other man towered over you, almost as tall as skull face, the mohawk added several inches to his height.

“This the recruit you were looking for?” The man who walked you over pointed a thumb in your direction.

“Think so,” the bearded man said. He stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Price.”

You shake his hand, twice up and down with firm pressure. You had to learn to ‘shake like a man’.

Mohawk man sticks out his hand next, “Soap.”

You shake his hand and nod, turning back to the man who walked you over.

“Is that all, sir? All of us low-ranking members have standing orders to not speak to any of the 141,” you infuse your words with an ‘I’m just doing my job’ tone.

Soap snorts out a laugh, covering it poorly with a cough into his fist.

The man before you stutters before Price jumps in.

“Thank you, that will be all.” He can’t help but smile as you nod and turn on your heel heading back to your task.

As you are walking away you hear Soap’s comment.

“I can see why ‘e wants her, much more spunk there than anywhere else on this base.”

✮✮✮

The news comes down the line of your reassignment to become the sole attendant of the 141. You scarf down dinner, they wanted you presented to the team at 1800. You speed walk to your room, the clock showing a measly twenty minutes to pack your life up to move halfway across base.

You make it, squeaking through the door exactly the time you were requested. The base commander stands, hands tucked in one another behind his low back. He stands looking out the window over a group of training soldiers.

He ignores your presence for a moment before turning towards you.

“Ah, come in. We have a few things to discuss before I introduce you to the team. One question before we start, do you know why you were requested to be our liaison?”

You answer honestly, “Sir, I have not even a singular idea as to why.”

He hums, “We need this to go well. We need to borrow from the 141 from time to time and can only do that if they agree. Your job is to do whatever is needed to secure their agreement.”

Your stomach turns sour at the word choice, do whatever is needed. The military is no different than a pimp, only difference is one gets cheers and free meals at IHOP.

“Of course, sir, I will do my best.”

“Good, now here is what you need to know…”

The meeting takes another twenty minutes; your brain a bit fried when you lift your bag to follow the commander.

You take stock of the nicer flooring and art as you enter the building just beside the commanders. He lived on base since his wife passed nearly a year ago. You enter a room, you would still call it a living room despite all the time in the military.

Soap and a man you haven’t seen sit on the couch intently focused on their game of Mario Kart. They raced along the Rainbow Road. Price and skull face sat at a table near the wall. Price worked away on a laptop and skull face held an e-reader. A fifth man reclined in a chair near Soap, clearly asleep. Feet spread wide, head tipped across the back of the chair, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“This is where you will be staying. Captain Price will be in charge of you until they leave in a few months time. I will leave the introductions of the team to him.” The commander claps a hand on your shoulder, knocking you forward a step.

Price looks up at the motion, pulling a small headphone from his ear.

“Ah, Commander. Thank you for delivering our new aide, we will take good care of her.” He stood, striding over and offering a hand again.

You shake it again, focused on the retreating sounds of the commander. Once the door clicks behind him you feel the tension release slightly from your shoulders.

“Welcome, let’s get you introduced to everyone and then get you settled.” Price smiled at you warmly, the crow’s feet showing it to be a common state for him. “You’ve met Soap, next to him is Gaz.”

Neither man acknowledges their name, too focused on the game. They are on their third lap, neck, and neck for the lead. Gaz drops back slightly and throws a blue shell, effectively taking first. Soap jumps to his feet, shouting.

“You feckin’ cheatin’ son of a whore! Not even Mother Mary will save you after this!” His accent came out thick in his anger.

Gaz just laughed as he crossed the finish line. Soap rolled in at fifth. With their outburst done Price continues his introductions.

“The sleeping man is Roach, he doesn’t speak much so don’t worry if he doesn’t respond to you. And then we have our L.T., Ghost,” Price gestures to the masked man.

You can’t stop the words. They escape, your brain slowing down the embarrassment to exacerbate the stress.

“Ghosts don’t have bones.” Such a matter-of-fact tone. Fuck a duck, why are you like this?

Ghost stands. You swallow hard. He clears the space between you in three long strides. Mother-fucking giant of a man.

“What?”

He asks as if he hadn’t heard, not as if he were offended.

You roll your lips between your teeth, answering a bit louder despite his now closer position.

“Ghosts don’t have bones, so your mask is a bit of a silly choice.”

Every man awake busts into laughter except Ghost. You glance over and Gaz is hanging off Soap, struggling to breathe. Soap is curled forward hugging his stomach. Price smothers a chuckle next to you.

You look back at Ghost, his eyes squint slightly at you. You give an awkward smile.

“L.T. how has no one ever thought about that before?” Gaz is out of breath and falls back into laughter after his question.

Ghost blinks once at you.

“Follow me, I will show you to your room.”

You wince at his back, throwing a glance at Price.

“You’ll be okay, he won’t hold it against you,” the laughter in his voice didn’t reassure you.

You scurry after the man you insulted by accident, wincing at every sound you make. The only sound Ghost makes is the slight swish of his pants as they cross with each step. He leads you down a short hall, turning right at the first choice. There are two doors down this short hall. He taps the second one.

“This is your room. Mine is next door.”

“I am really sorry, I didn’t mean to make a joke of your mask,” you stumble over your words.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a funny thought and the men will take to you easier after the joke,” he replies evenly.

You wince again and look at the door.

“Is there anything I need to handle tonight?”

“No, other than we have a nightly debrief at 2000 in the main room.”

You blow out a short breath. “Okay, I can do that.”

Stepping into the room you are surprised at the single bed, dresser, and desk. Still all military issue but nicer. You drop your bag on the bed, looking over the space. You hadn’t truly been alone since you signed up, this might be an adjustment.

Turning back to the door you startle, Ghost is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes on you.

“Can I help you with something, lieutenant?” you ask, curious as to why he is still standing in the doorway.

“No. Feel free to join us when you are ready.” He turns away, the sound of his steps quickly fading.

You sit down on the chair at the desk. You put your head in your hands, elbows propped on your knees. How the hell did you end up here? Last night you were running for your life and now you are helping court a specialty group from the UK for the base commander. The only person from the team you spoke to last night had been Ghost. Did he have something to do with this change?

You eventually join the team back in the main room. The 2000 debrief had just been a fancy way of saying they all have a cup of tea before bed. Roach pulled out a deck of cards and you soon found yourself in a game of poker you would lose. You laugh more at the table with these men than you had in all the months you had been in the military. You fell asleep that night a soft smile on your face, the door locked tight.

✮✮✮

The months passed quickly, you became texting buddies with everyone on the team beyond Ghost. He watched you. You noticed but ignored it. He happened to be a grown man and if he had something to say he would have to buck up and use his words.

Roach comes alive through your text conversations, he is full of observations and quirky sayings. He is your favorite texting buddy.

As the time for the 141 to return come crept closer without a hard yes or no from Price about working with the base in the future the commander crept further up your ass. After a particularly unhelpful meeting where the commander ended up yelling at you, you stormed into your room. Throwing yourself face down on your bed, muttering curses.

“Can I help you?”

Your eyes blow wide in the darkness created by your face being compressed into the mattress.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. You had missed your door and landed on Ghost’s bed. You pushed up from the mattress on your hands and one knee. The other foot already searched for the ground.

“Nope, sorry Ghost. I just had a bad meeting and missed my door,” you can’t help the blush overtaking your face.

One foot on the floor you pull your torso up, ready to turn and race out of the room once your second foot touches the carpet.

“Pause.”

You freeze finally looking up to see Ghost working at his desk. He has a soft balaclava on today, still a skull painted on but much more inviting than the hard mask. He has no darkening makeup on today, you can see dark brows and light, fair skin of England showing through the hole in the mask. You devour the peek into him.

“Sit,” he turns from you pulling open a drawer of his desk.

You shift to do as you are told. He has never been unkind to you, just the opposite actually. The two men who chased you across the base had been reassigned across the country shortly after you joined the team. Neither of you said it out loud but you know that only Ghost had been aware of what happened.

He spins his chair back towards you. He holds out his e-reader. This thing goes everywhere with him. Ghost could be called a voracious reader. You glance between the small device and his face, not touching the offering.

“Pick anything you like, feel free to stay until you feel better.”

You reach forward, fingers slow to grasp. Once you have a firm grip he lets go and turns back to his work. Starting the device a book opens halfway through. You back out to the main page and scroll through the options.

Several of the titles garner a raised brow.

“Didn’t take you for a smut reader, Ghost.”

The only response is a creaking of the chair as he shifts. Your lips twitch with a smile. You choose a title vaguely familiar and start from the beginning. You read sitting on Ghost’s bed until the nightly debrief. The next day you find yourself knocking at his closed door. You’re just going to ask to borrow his reader until you can finish the story.

When he opens the door what could be called a smile reaches his eyes. The edges of them shift together the barest hint.

“It’s on the bed, right where you left off.”

Bashfulness overcomes you, forcing your gaze to swing down to your boots. You slip past him, sitting against the wall feet dangling off the bed. Once the story has well and truly sucked you in you reach down and remove your boots, eyes not leaving the words as they thud to the floor. Ghost doesn’t say a single word as you end up stretching across his bed feet swinging through the air.

A knock at the door jolts you out of the story. Price’s voice comes after a knock slightly farther away.

“Debrief will be a bit late today, 2030.”

You lock eyes with Ghost, remaining silent. As Price’s footsteps walk away you flip to a sitting position and shove your toes back into your boots. You set the reader down, focused on getting the ties just right. Once they feel tight enough you stand.

“Thanks for letting me read, I guess I will come back when you have a moment you can spare it.” You can’t keep your fingers from digging into your pockets. You can’t believe you rolled yourself all over his bed while reading.

“You are welcome any time. If you are close why don’t you take it tonight and return it in the morning?” his head tilts ever so slightly.

“Really?” Your brows rise as does your voice with the question. “If you don’t mind. I can finish the book after debrief and return it before lights out.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he raised a brow as a challenge.

“I’m not saying you do,” you glare at him. “Confirming your level of seriousness is not doubting you.”

“If you say so.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful with that thing, some could take it as an invitation.” He turns back to his desk as you gape at him.

Did Ghost flirt with you?

You snap up the e-reader, holding it close to your chest as you leave the room. You let the door hang ajar, knowing it bothers him.

You wander into the main room, tucking the small tablet into your side pocket. Setting the kettle to boil you prepare a cup for each man, dropping a preferred tea bag in each. As everyone settles in around the table you finish adding milk and sugar to mugs and passing them out. Ghost sits last.

“Sugar with tea for you,” you place the cup down in front of him and take the seat to his right.

Soap chuckled, “Go’ta say L.T. she’s got you pegged.”

“Too bad we can’t throw her in our luggage for when we head home,” Gaz chimed in.

Price leaned back in his chair, “Well now there’s a thought. How long do you have left?”

You finish your sip of hot chocolate, “Only about a year, but I am not planning on re-upping.”

“Wanna come work for the 141?” Price lifts a brow at you.

“Put that offer in writing so I can get a visa and absolutely,” you grin. With how much Price griped about paperwork you doubted he would follow through on getting you a work visa.

He glared at you, “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Have you known me to do anything less?” you challenge.

“Do the paperwork Price, or I will.” Ghost dropped the statement like a smoking gun to a criminal case.

You smirk down into your cup, taking a sip to avoid a comment. Ghost hates paperwork more than Price and is so meticulous with it because he hates when he has to redo the ‘fucking devil’s work’.

The men leave the table as their tea is finished, rinsing the mugs before settling into the final activity of the night. You stay at the table and pull out the e-reader. The book sucks you back in.

“Is that Ghost’s reader?” Soap’s shocked voice rips you from the climax of the story.

“What? Uh, yeah.” You settle back into the battle, your main character taking a knife to the ribs.

“Did he let you borrow it or…” he lets the question hang, a noose swinging in the wind.

Irritated, you put the tablet down. Turning to look at Soap you reply.

“Of course he let me borrow it. I’ve been using it for a few days.”

Soap’s brows shoot up his forehead, nearly touching his mohawk.

“Really? Well, that’s an interesting development.”

“I guess? Now my character just got stabbed so if there is nothing else I am going to finish this before lights out so I can return it.” You turn back to the table and get absorbed back into reading.

You return the reader to Ghost before bed and only use it in behind the safety of his door until they leave.

✮✮✮

The anticipation of pain has never once made the pain hurt less.

They are leaving, your friends are heading home to the UK. Price is the one who sat you down and gave you the dates. Two days, in two days you would walk them to their plane and have to move on like you didn’t find family in some of the scariest men you have ever met. You hold it together until you get out of his sight.

Tears slip down your cheeks, a silent testament of the love that has grown for them. You slip into Ghost’s room. He should be out right now, off training with Roach. He isn’t.

Asleep with his boots on, Ghost is sprawled out across his bed. One hand dangles out over the edge. You sit against the bed, his arm draping over your shoulder. You hold his large hand in both of yours. You know he is probably awake, but he does you the kindness of staying still. He isn’t wearing his gloves today. Ghost had many healed scrapes and scars to explore. You let your fingers drift over his hand, bumping over every ridge.

You sniff as tears continue to flow down your cheeks, splattering against your shirt. It’s hard for you to believe that you can love these wacky guys to the point of pain at their departure. You slid right into the dynamic of the crew as if they had held a place for you. Cutting off arguments between the 141 and everyone else had become your primary job. You could talk down any member from retaliatory action for both minor and major slights. You toed the lines between both Price and the base commander to find common enough ground for their agreement to be settled. You still didn’t know why they were here, only that an agreement had been reached with you as a go-between more often than not. Now they were leaving. Leaving you behind. Knowing they have jobs waiting for them, for missions to be completed doesn’t ease the ache in your chest.

You stay like that, fingertips drifting over the skin of his hand until the storm in your chest has petered out and the only signs it ravaged your soul are the tracks on your cheeks and the tears drying on your shirt.

You sniff once, sliding your fingers to fit between his.

“I know you’re probably awake, but thank you for letting me use you for comfort.” You squeeze his fingers once before standing.

Scooting out and away from the bed you take care to not look at him. This private comfort you stole from his sleeping form could only be that, private. Seeing his eyes would shatter the flimsy barrier to your heart and you couldn’t afford to lose any more of that worn organ to men across the sea. Your fingers stayed locked with his as you stood, reaching, touching until at last the kiss of his fingerprints whispered their goodbyes.

You close the door softly behind you, heading for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror with the bright white light illuminating your blotchy face you tuck away your pain to deal with in the dark. You scrub your face with cool water and redo your hair. When a soldier with a job looks back at you instead of a woman losing her family you leave the bathroom.

✮✮✮

Two days later you say your goodbyes. Your number is entered into so many new phones and you are repeatedly asked which secure platform you will use to chat with them all. Their flight is scheduled to leave at 0320, at midnight you are scouring the rooms they used confirming everyone has packed everything.

Ghost finds you ass in the air while your hand stretches for a book Gaz had been missing for three weeks. It had fallen between his bed and the wall. When you snag it you pull back triumphant. You see his legs first, glancing all the way up at his face.

“Oh, hi, Ghost. I am just checking everyone got everything before you all leave,” you smile up at him.

He doesn’t respond, just offering a hand down to you. You take it gratefully, pulling yourself up. Taking a step back you look him over. He is wearing his soft balaclava today, he tends to wear them when he needs to be more comfortable than scary.

“All ready to go home? I bet you are going to be glad for an overcast day and a good cuppa,” the happiness in your voice isn’t faked. Ghost has complained to you a few times about the terrible tea here.

“Ready to be home, not looking forward to the flight.” He looks you over scouring your face, his gaze scrapes like steel wool over your nerves. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

The husky tone of his voice catches you off guard enough that you comply without thought. Gaz’s book is lifted from your hands, leaving them empty.

As you stand you hear the buzzing of the bright light above you, the sound of Velcro opening, and the quiet sounds of breaths, both yours and Ghosts. The fingers on your cheek are a surprise, the callouses marking your skin as they trail from your jaw to your eye.

You push your face into the touch, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your lips. You flick the tip of your tongue against it, tasting the ridges unique to that finger. He slides away from your mouth, thumb and fingers curling around your jaw and tipping your face up. He kisses you then. Riots start inside your body. Part of you yearns to open your eyes, devour him, touch the breadth of his flesh. The other, stronger part of you screws your eyes shut tighter, taking the gift as it is given and demanding nothing more.

He kisses as if he bottles his kindness and doles it out only for you. The press of his lips against yours will keep you going. He pulls back ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in a year dove, stay safe,” he says the words against your lips, pressing them together once more. He puts something in your hands as he steps away, his fingers still on your face.

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for some sign it would be safe to open them again. His thumb taps your jaw before drifting away.

“Open your eyes already you silly bird,” the smile in his voice is unmistakable. His fingers slip away as your eyes open.

This mask is down again, you smirk up at him.

“Why am I a silly bird for respecting boundaries you big oaf? If you wanted me to see your face you wouldn’t have asked me to close my eyes.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t think you would let me kiss you if you saw it coming.”

You can’t stop the full belly laugh that erupts out of you. “I don’t know how to respond to that!”

Shaking your head you look down and pause. Your head snaps up.

“You’re giving me your e-reader? Why?” your brows draw together as you look at him.

He shrugs again, shoulders shifting just enough to indicate he didn’t have a real reason to share.

“It’s still logged in, feel free to buy any book that piques your interest.” His hands lift to your face, cupping your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter closed at the contact. His forehead connects with yours, his warm breath kissing your face as it filters through the mask.

“Don’t die before I get there okay?” You open your eyes, staring straight into his. This close you can see the variations of brown striping through them.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll do my best.” He sounds sincere.

You give in to the urge to hug him. He hesitates before returning the gesture. You stand with him, listening to his heartbeat until you have soaked in the pressure of his presence. You pull back first, wiping at your eyes.

“Let’s get you to your ride, Price will come looking for you soon.”

You grab Gaz’s book, tuck the e-reader in a side pocket, and walk with Ghost to the hanger. The silence between you is comfortable and tinged with the moments you have shared in silence before.

As you get close you wave the book at Gaz who jogs over.

“Where did you find it? I looked everywhere,” he takes the book gratefully.

“Everywhere but under your bed obviously.”

Ghost snorts, walking past you to join Price near the gangplank of the plane. You’ve said all your goodbyes at this point. You only stay to see them off. Everyone but Ghost gives you a hug or a pat on the back as they board the plane. You wave until the door shuts and watch until the dim lights of the wings are swallowed by the darkness.

You blow out a breath and speak into the darkness.

“One year, you can make it one more year.”

✮✮✮

Six months in you can tell things are getting bad for them. It takes longer and longer for replies to come into your messages and when Soap is willing to share what’s happening it is summed up in a single word.

Mole.

They go dark for another three months. Your days are filled with a background of worry and a foreground of doing what you are told.

Ghost is the one who breaks the silence.

>Your paperwork is through, your visa should arrive soon.

The cheer you give in the mess hall has every eye on you. Pinching your lips between your teeth you clean up your tray and slip outside.

>Anything special I should do after it arrives?

His reply comes quick.

>Pack.

You laugh. Some would miss the dry wit with which he pokes at you. You miss him, them.

>I have a few months left before I am out. Should I fly into Heathrow?

>Yes. Send Price your flight details and someone will come get you.

You send a kissy face emoji in response, imagining the eye roll that this would incite.

The final three months slip by like water. Your off time is filled with nailing down travel details and fighting with Price via email over the contract he sent you. He set up a fair contract, but he wanted you on his team so why not ask for a few extra vacation days?

✮✮✮

Soap is the one to pick you up when your flight lands. You drag your achy bones through customs, the clash of accents all around you weighing on your brain.

You set your bags down to hug him. He laughs.

“Miss me bonnie lass?”

You mumble your reply into his chest.

“I’m not anyone’s ‘bonnie lass’.” You nearly match his accent on the words.

“I donne believe you, but tis good to see you back. Let’s get you to HQ.” He looks down at your bags, “This all you have?”

You ignore the prick of judgment the question causes in you. There is nothing wrong with a transatlantic move that only has you bring a carry-on and a backpack.

“That’s it, I pack pretty light. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He gives you a heavy side-eye.

“Never said there was.”

Conversation falls back into familiar territory as Soap fights his way out of the airport, car inching forward until they are at last out of the city. You don’t fight the pull of your eyelids to meet in sleep as Soap sings along to the radio. A hand on your shoulder wakes you. Soap smirks at you from the other seat.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

You roll your eyes and focus beyond the windshield at an old barn. You glance at Soap, confused.

He chuckles as he replies, “England is old, we have to reuse what we can.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” You step out of the car, feeling odd to be leaving the left side as a passenger.

You leave your bags in the car. Soap wanted to introduce you to the full team before showing you to the shared flat you would be living in until you could secure your own lodgings.

He is talking about the area, waving his arms this way, and that pointing out the range and the picnic tables. He pulls open a person-sized door beside the massive barn doors.

“We’re home!” Soap calls into the large building.

You step through the door with a shiver, as if someone walked over your grave.

The building might have once been a barn, but industrial beams now held the roof aloft. To the right of the wide-open space a set of stairs led to a second level. A few small doors were scattered around the walls that did not hold the door you came through. The main space held a few long tables bracketed by chairs. Beyond them appeared to be an elevated platform where you could imagine staged fights occurred.

A stream of unfamiliar faces appears and greets you, all rising from the table where books and mugs lay scattered along the surface. Thankfully everyone returns to their task when done speaking with you. Roach catches your eye, he pulls you into a spinning hug.

You let out a squealing laugh as you pat at his shoulders.

“Put me down, Roach!”

He does settle your feet on the ground, hands settling on your waist as he bumps his forehead to yours.

Welcome home friend.

“I’m glad to see you again.” To break the tension, you ruffle his bright blond hair. Roach scrunches his nose and squeezes his hands once before stepping back.

Soap propels you deeper into the building with a hand on your back.

“Where is everyone else?” You glance at his profile, catching sight of a new bump along the ridge of his nose. “That’s new.”

He glances at you, “Price and Ghost will be in their offices, Gaz could be anywhere. And what’s new?”

You press a finger to his face. “This.”

Soap goes a tiny bit cross-eyed looking at the point you touched.

“Rookie caught me slacking.” He looks up and smiles at you. “Ready to see everyone else?”

“Lead on my lovely guide,” you gesture to the hallway before you.

The hallway must lead to a back building, though it sloped downward slightly. Several minutes pass with Soap pointing out bathrooms and kitchens and even your small office next to Price’s. He doesn’t knock as he pops the door open. Kyle is standing, finger-pointing at something on a desk while Price sits peering down at the same. Both men look up, dour expressions melting away when they catch sight of you.

“You made it!” Kyle pulls you into a tight hug that you happily return. “How was your flight?”

“My flights?” You emphasize the s on your last word as you step around Kyle to give Price a half hug along his shoulders. “All four of them were fine, some longer than others though.”

“Soap get you settled in yet?” Price asks as his arm snakes around you in return.

“Not yet, Cap. Figured she would want to say hello to everyone before I drop her off at the roulette flat,” Soap answers for you. You take the opportunity to step back into your own space.

“Roulette flat?” You glance between the three of them as they fight down smirks.

“We keep a flat for new transfers or men in hot waters with their birds who can’t go home. You’re welcome to stay there until you can secure lodgings you prefer.” Price shifts “Have you seen everyone?”

Shaking your head you reply, “Not yet. Still looking for Ghost.”

“Mmm, probably down in the shooting range. If you follow this hallway to the end you will find the range.” John pointed away from the direction you had already come from. “Soap would take you but I need his opinion on something.”

Taking the gentle dismissal you smile and nod, secretly grateful to be able to see Ghost without an audience. Pulling the door shut quietly you let gravity guide your steps further into the earth and this odd base John headed.

A thick metal door, wires encased in the single glass window near the top sat at the end of the long hall. The push bar chills your fingers as you step into the cool concrete room. Six little stalls, open above and below a rib-high counter lined the room. Ghost stood in the fourth one down, feet braced wide as he looked down at the shelf.

To avoid startling him you said something before the door shut fully.

“Hey there stranger.”

His shoulders stiffen as he turns, you watch his muscles relax as he takes in the sight of you. Searching him for changes you let the silence settle between you. He does the same.

You can’t bridge the gap. When tension layers the silence Ghost breaks it.

“How were your flights?”

“Long, my ass hurts from sitting,” you answer honestly.

Ghost nods. His thumbs settle in the top of his pockets.

“Misse—”

The door slams into you, flinging you forward as you fight to catch your balance.

“Bonnie? Aye, why are ye standing behind the door?” Soap looks at you around the door he threw into your back, perplexed.

“Because I like being assaulted with metal sheets,” you deadpanned.

Ghost let out a huff of a laugh. You shoot a glance at him.

“Ready to go lass?” Soap’s question pulls your gaze back to him.

“Where is she staying?” Ghost must not have meant to ask; his fingers tighten at his pants.

“Roulette flat,” Soap replies, happy to answer his L.T.

Ghost nods once and turns back to his shooting range. A series of metal clicks tell you he is readying another round.

You follow Soap from the room, eyes lingering on those broad shoulders until the door separates you. Several muffled bangs follow you to the surface.

✮✮✮

Roulette Flat lived up to its name. You had a new flatmate near every week; the time you came home to find a young member of the 141 having sex in your borrowed bed was the day you threw yourself into the chair opposite Price’s desk.

“I can’t keep living like this John!” You press the heels of your palms into your eyes as if that would wipe the vision of ass you had caught when trying to drop your bag after work.

You had fled the flat and spent the evening taking up a booth at the pub searching for a new flat. Nothing close enough had worked out when you sent off inquiries. Everyone had replied that any roommate positions had been filled or the landlord ‘conveniently’ had another call coming in when they heard your accent.

“My food getting eaten is annoying, but I can deal with that but this?” You sit forward arm flinging wide, “In my bed?!”

John looks sympathetic as you express your frustrations.

“What’s in your bed?” Ghost’s voice surprises you.

Glancing at him towering over you, you let out a huff and leaned back in the chair, defeated. He is wearing of soft balaclava sans eye black.

“Rookies having sex in the bed I am using at the flat.”

“You haven’t found a flat in the month you have been here?” One brow creeps up.

“No, by the time I get a response from any listing the spot is filled.” Frustrated you press hard on your cheekbones before rubbing out the pain.

John and Ghost had been having a silent conversation over your head. You can tell by the way Ghost sighs and folds his arms across his chest and John looks at him expectantly.

“I…Have a spare room.” Ghost drops his shoulders, forcing a face of calm, “If you wouldn’t mind staying with me.”

Smiling softly up at him you think over the offer.

“How about this, you give me a month. If, in a month, you still actually want to offer and not be bullied into it by Cap and I haven’t found a flat I will take you up on your offer.”

Ghost lets out a puff of air through his nose as he uncrosses his arms.

“Wanna go down to the range?” He tips his head to indicate the shooting range.

A deep sadness washes over you. It must show in your face from the way Ghost tightens slightly.

“I would love to do that, and if you aren’t busy tomorrow evening I would be happy to practice with you. Gaz, Soap, and Roach all asked me out for a drink tonight when I rolled in this morning. I would invite you, but I know you already told Soap you didn’t want to go out tonight.” The idea of missing time with him tugs your heart in your chest. You lock eyes with Ghost, warming in the subtle shades of brown in his irises.

Neither of you had found time or the gumption to start a conversation about how things were left a year ago. Frankly, you were worried and slightly devastated that he might not want to explore what might be between you.

John reminds you that you are in his office by a loud clearing of his throat.

Heat flashes through your chest as you snap your gaze to him.

“Much as I love these chats, was there anything either of you needed me for?”

“No,” you stand, pushing up from the chair. “I came by to bitch. Sorry.”

Ghost shakes his head. Both of you head for the door.

John watches the two of you leave his office, leaving a breath of space between bodies. When you clear the frame, you turn and look up with a smile for Ghost. It melts the poor bastard. He reaches out too slow, skeleton gloves barely miss catching your hand as you head for your own office.

Leaning forward John lets the creak of his office chair tell his lieutenant that he saw. Ghost steps back inside and shuts the door, leaning his head on the wood as his body curls around the hand still on the knob.

“Talking to her would resolve this tension for you, Simon,” John interlaces his fingers and rests his chin atop his touching thumbs.

By way of response, Simon slams his head repeatedly. A sharp whistle from John causes him to pause.

“Whatever messages you’ve been trying to send are being missed. If she moves in, then she will at least be close enough to let you have more than one chance at telling her.”

“You are more meddlesome than a matchmaking grandmother John,” Ghost growled to the door.

“Be that as it may, with the pace at which you are moving one of the rookies will try and put moves on her before you can say her name out loud,” John observed.

The hinges creaked under the force of Simon containing his emotions.

“Confirm shooting with her for tomorrow night. I will make that an order if it means you get out of my office and find yourself in hers.”

“Order it,” Simon growled.

John’s brows lifted but he gave the order. Simon moved the door as if its presence holding back the traffic from the hall had offended his entire bloodline. The knock from down the hall drifted followed by your surprised greeting.

God his lieutenant needed a kick in the ass sometimes. John saw how you watched Simon, the simmering feelings went both ways. Now if only someone would shift.

✮✮✮

Roach enjoyed spending time with you. The brightness you brought to the conversations and the way you always included him despite his low likelihood of responding left him feeling treasured. You had slipped away to grab another round of drinks for the table.

“Ah fuck,” Gaz pushed away roughly from the table. “Up, we need to save her.”

Soap and Roach stood, finding you quickly. You were in the face of a man, red in the face, who loomed over you. Your shouts could be heard across the bar.

“You wanna touch women? Real fucking classy of you. No. Don’t look at her. Look at me, the loud American who can happily kick your ass.”

Gaz is the first one able to cross the room and loop an arm around your waist, tugging you away from the confrontation.

They were nearly clear of the door when the man spat a nasty comment about one of the guys and you were gone. They forgot sometimes, that while you might not be SAS, you were a trained soldier. Two body shots, a forehead to the bigot’s nose, and a blow to his knee and he went down like a tree felled.

Spitting on the man who lay moaning on the ground you tossed £20 on the counter before stalking out of the pub muttering to yourself about assholes who needed to learn to keep their hands to themselves and pick up a fucking book.

Roach, Soap, and Gaz all shared a look before following you out the door.

Soap threw an arm over your shoulder as you stomped down the sidewalk.

“I don’t remember you being this feisty when we were in the States lass.”

“That? I had to do something while waiting out my last year. Used that time to work on standing up for women, and myself, more. I started taking more classes about, well everything really. Languages, more sparring, anything they would approve me for to keep me busy while you all dealt with your mole situation.” That brought your feet to a stop. “You did take care of that didn’t you?”

Roach nodded. He had been on that mission with Price, put down a few people who were telling tales that didn’t belong to them.

“Good. Can’t have someone hurt my guys,” you nodded firmly before setting off down the lane again.

“Your guys?” Gaz nudged you in the ribs with his elbow and a wink.

You roll your eyes and bump him back.

“You know what I mean.”

They did, they all knew. Claiming those in your care happened to everyone.

✮✮✮

You don’t wait at the door after knocking. Price had confirmed Ghost would be in his office filling out a shitload of paperwork he had been ignoring. The desk is facing the door, Ghost glancing up from his computer as you slam the door behind you.

No chairs other than the one he is using exist in the space. You sit on the floor with a huff, back against the wall nearest to him. Elbows on knees you focus on breathing and not murdering.

“Is your offer still open?”

The chair creaks as he turns to peer down at you.

“Yes.”

“Good. If it wasn’t I was going to end up playing Russian roulette when I got to the flat.”

“What happened?”

“My underwear have gone missing,” you force the words past clenched teeth. “I had to wash the pair I am wearing in the sink and go commando while they dried.”

He didn’t prevent the show of true emotion from flickering across his face. You caught the tail end of it as you glanced up at him. You might end up with more than you bargained for by letting that problem into the light.

“Would tonight after work be okay then? I need to pop by a shop and get new underwear,” you rest your head in your hands, utterly exhausted.

“I’ll get a bed there by tonight for you.”

He hesitates before resting a hand on your head.

“I bought that long romance series I have seen you slowly renting from the library,” his words are quiet.

His gloves catch on your hair as you look up at him.

“Why?”

A shrug drops his hand from you. He turns back to his computer.

“That’s all I get Lieutenant? A shrug?” You needle.

The side eye he gives you would have scared the recruits. You knew better. He would never hurt you. You send a wink up at him, smirking as he turns back to his computer.

✮✮✮

John took you to a pub for your employee check-in. You had been living with Ghost for nearly a month now. It worked out better than you expected. Ghost kept a clean space and there is a running list of groceries needed that you take turns picking up. On days when the timing allows you to ride into work with him you play DJ. He has a decent playlist on his cracked ancient phone.

You had asked about the phone once when you had been poking around his music.

“Why is your phone so old?”

“Still works,” he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Yeah, but it’s so old they don’t even make this charger anymore!” You pointed to the butt of the phone, “And it still has an aux port!”

He grunted in acknowledgment.

“Red light,” you threw out as you glanced up before going back to your perusal of his artists.

Ghost had a hard time anticipating drivers, especially when they were directly ahead of him. You joked that he needed glasses or contacts in front of Soap who immediately took great pleasure in telling you how looking through Ghost’s scope left him with a headache behind the eye he used. The man in question had glared at both of you before stalking off. If he started to use cheater glasses at home and the text size on his Kindle shrunk there was no use mentioning it.

“Still liking the job?” John questions as the waiter drops both drinks on the table.

“Loving it actually. It got a lot easier when I got out of the roulette flat. I was this close,” you hold your fingers apart to the point of a single piece of paper making it through the space, “To killing someone.”

“You moved in with Ghost right?” John takes a sip of his beer, the foam clinging to his mustache.

You nod as you take a sip of your cocktail, “He’s been leagues better as a roommate. No real difference than when you were all back on the base with me.”

A boisterous group of young men draw your attention to the front door. Clocking the way they scope out the room and find the pretty young women and sidle up to the bar around them.

“Any complaints about the work then? Do you think you’re ready to be thrown on rotation for on-site management if we need it?”

John is looking at you but you can’t tear your eyes from the scene before you. One guy is getting all up in the space of a woman who is clearly uncomfortable. She excuses herself from the bar. The monster drops something in her drink smirking to himself as it sinks to the bottom of the glass.

Cutting your eyes back to John you ignore his previous questions.

“Did Ghost ever tell you how we met?”

Confused by the jump in conversation his brows pull together but he replies.

“No.”

“He saved me the night before the transfer from two would-be rapists on base. I took the year I had to wait for my service to be over to practice being bold. There is a man at the bar who put something in a woman’s drink. I need you to watch for a confused woman and tell her what happened. I am going to try and get a picture of his ID and if I have to drink her beer drop me off with Ghost. I should have anywhere from ten to thirty minutes until it takes full effect.”

Standing you don’t give him a chance to argue about your plan.

Simon stands from the couch due to the knock at his door. Checking the peephole he is concerned to see you draped over John’s shoulder. Unlocking the door he pulls it open. John hefts you in, you stumble further into his side giggling as you do.

“The hell happened John? Thought you were going for a quick drink,” Simon grabs your other arm and helps settle you into the couch you had insisted they needed.

“It was supposed to be!” John snaps at him.

“Hi Si,” you coo up at him.

“How do you know my name?” He growls down at you. He should be kinder, you are off your ass drunk.

“I don’t know your name,” you look up at him and put your fingers to your chest in an affronted manner, “The credit card company does. I put the mail on your bed.”

That makes more sense. Those fucking vultures could find him anywhere he moved for longer than three months. He had seen the offer on his pillow and had already shredded it.

“The fuck happened John? She knows her limits,” Simon growled at his captain.

“She saw a woman’s drink get spiked and ended up drinking it in a bid to get a picture of the rapist’s ID.” John crossed his arms, feet wide as he stared down at you. You blanched and went slightly green. Before either man could react you had spewed the contents of your stomach across the rug you had bought to go with the couch.

“Simon,” your voice came out small between coughs, “I don’t feel so good.”

He doesn’t think. Scooping you up from the couch, leaving your puddle of sick where it lay.

“John, grab a sweater from the hook. We are taking her to the hospital,” his words come out harshly from his tight throat.

A captain gave orders, but he also knew when to follow them. He grabbed one of Simon’s hoodies and locked the knob as he followed Simon’s long steps.

“I’ll drive,” John unlocks his car from the fob once it is in sight.

Simon sits in the back seat, clicking you and himself in. He holds you: when the nurse checks you out, when they draw blood, when you fall asleep wrapped in his hoodie an IV in your arm pumping you with fluids. He holds on tighter when you wake up with a soft smile and words of thanks for him.

“Thanks, Simon. I knew you would take care of me.”

“Why did you do that?” His jaw quivers behind his black medical mask.

“You saved me when we met, I figured that the least I could do is save someone else,” the soft doe eyes you point up at him will be his undoing.

He rests his chin on the top of your head before your eyes undo more of the stitches holding his soul in place.

✮✮✮

Simon, as he let you call him off the job, made the worst jokes when grocery shopping. As you were perusing the wine aisle he leaned over the bar of the cart staring at you. When you finally glanced at him like you knew he had been waiting for he hit you with a pun.

“Grape deal on wine today.”

The deadpan delivery causes your lips to quirk even as you fight it down.

“This is not helping me choose a box to take home.”

“Dill with it. We also need pickles.”

That one caused you to laugh out loud.

“Come one big guy, we still have half a store to get through,” You smile as you wave him on, grabbing a boxed wine that wasn’t terrible the last time you tried it.

He loomed behind you, even as he curled over the cart.

“Hey.”

Looking from the eggs you find Simon pointing a thumb to the butter section.

“Butter believe these prices are getting out of hand.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes.

“Butter believe your puns are getting worse.”

“Butter believe you’ll put up with them anyways,” he shot back.

“Oh, will I?” You lift a brow at him as you settle the eggs in the cart.

“You love them,” he winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s call it unless you plan on selling a leg at check out.”

Simon follows you to check out, paying despite your instance to split the cost, and takes the bulk of the groceries on the way home.

✮✮✮

Roach wouldn’t mention the bet, which is exactly why Gaz brought it up.

Dropping onto the couch next to Gary who played Tetris on an old gaming console Gaz waited.

When Roach finally lifted a brow Gaz launched into his story.

“Johnny and I have a bet going on how long it is going to take for Ghost to make a move on our little liaison. Want in?”

Switching his console for a phone Gary sent money to Gaz with the note ‘Ghost won’t make a move’.

Staring at the phone Gaz hummed as he mulled over the thought.

“You think she is going to make a move?”

Roach shrugged before signing.

I know Ghost won’t make a move, that man doesn’t move unless he is sure.

“And can’t really be sure of someone’s feelings unless they say. I see your point. Johnny said it would take six months and I said it would take nine and a half months. Anyone else I should ask?” Gaz added Roach’s vote to the note app where he kept a running tally of amounts and guesses.

You ask John yet?

“Should I?” Gaz quirked a brow.

Man’s a gossip.

“I’ll go ask him now then. And this should go without saying but I don’t want to run laps until I vomit so keep this to yourself.”

Roach mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. Gaz pushed on his head as both men laughed.

✮✮✮

When one year slipped by it started to look more and more likely that Roach would be correct.

After the second year tripped into the third everyone got their money back and the bet wasn’t mentioned again.

Everyone watched though, waiting for the seismic shift that would be visible from space.

Instead, the relationship changed by degrees; the frog being boiled when no one was watching.

✮✮✮

Simon poked your skincare bottles from his seat on the toilet. You had been telling him about your day when you stepped into the bathroom not pausing in your story.

Whack.

He glared up at you for smacking his hand.

“Keep touching my shit and I will make you wear it,” you send him a hard side-eyed glare as your fingers work the bubbles of your soap over your face.

Johnny had pissed him off today and the wanker had ducked out before Simon could force him to the training mat for a few rounds. He poked the bottle, the petty need satisfied as the small bottle fell with a sound.

You watch him for the count of seven before turning and rinsing both your hands and your face. Drying both you grab a package from the other side of the sink and bracket one of his knees. Unsure of your plan Simon watches as you peel it open and pull out what looks like a wet wipe. A cloying floral scent fills the room. Even through the mask, the scent is too much, Simon closes his eyes and scrunches his nose. That is when you strike.

A solid grip on his balaclava at the top of his head and one hard tug and his face is free. Exposed. Ugly.

Without a word you set about running the wet wipe over his face as if you hadn’t upended his world. The hand not wiping him holds his chin, tilting him to and fro. The firm pressure keeps him tethered to the reality of the bathroom.

“Damn Si, you need to wash your masks and your face more,” you mutter as you reach for a second wipe.

He searches your face, looking for fear, disgust, hate, anything more than concentration pulling at your brows as you study him.

“Close your eyes, this will take a bit since your eye black is ridiculously hard to get off sometimes.”

He does as requested, savoring the simple touches of your hands. You are gentle around his eyes. Each swipe of your fingers wipes away the darkness from his eyes and a bit from his soul.

Slowly, so slowly he wraps his large hands around your thighs, the give of the flesh before your muscles resistance solid and real under his fingers. He would remember this feeling as he palmed himself late in the night, thinking of you.

His breath caught when your lips brushed the bridge of his nose. Broken so many times it would take a surgeon and a miracle to straighten it out. His father had broken it first; he had been blackout drunk and mean that night. He had been mean every night. His mother set the bone as Simon had cried begging her to leave his father. The other times didn’t matter so much, men who died after they got one shot in.

Leaving his eyes closed Simon soaked up your ministrations, pretending each touch is filled with love and not only companionship.

✮✮✮

It was a known fact around the building that if you couldn’t find Ghost that he would be in the Liaison’s office. Some of the newer recruits whispered they must be together for how often they could be found on late nights sharing a blanket. Each used an armrest as a pillow and would wake the other to stumble home to their shared flat.

A new recruit who went by the name, Stevens, had the gumption, or the ignorance, to ask the liaison in the kitchen, in front of Ghost, if she was dating anyone.

“You got a man, Ms. Liaison?” Stevens swaggered over to the counter where you were preparing your lunch before turning and leaning against it.

You reply without looking up from your sandwich.

“Pretty sure I’ve got fifty-two of them right now.”

He leans into your vision, brow lifted.

“No, like a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” You laugh at your misunderstanding. You had counted the number of men you were in charge of in the group. “No. No boyfriend for me.”

Stevens glanced at Ghost who crumpled his canned drink, fluids spilling over his fist.

“Would you want to hit a pub tonight?”

“Mmm, I’d have to check my schedule to see what time I’m free. Can I get back to you?” You smile up at him. “Where can I find you later?”

Dragging his eyes from the promised death in Ghost’s face he smiled at you.

“I’ll be in the training room about three,” Stevens smiled brightly at you before pushing off the counter and sauntering from the room.

Three o’clock found you nearly getting run over by Stevens as he ran laps around the gym.

He holds onto both your shoulders as he slows down, mumbling breathless apologies.

Ghost’s voice ricochets off the wall behind you as he shouts

“Stevens! Keep running.”

The man winces and pounds his feet against the ground as he rounds the room again.

Understanding washes over you. Simon had seen Stevens ask you to the pub and had taken some kind of offense from it.

Stalking over to Simon you see a wince in his eyes as he catches sight of your face.

Years of living with the man informed your next decision. Reaching up you pinched his bottom lip between two fingers. The soft fabric of his mask did not stop you from pulling down from his towering height to be eye level with you.

Glaring hard into the brown of his irises you raise your voice.

“Stevens, get out of here and be in my office at six.”

Light disappears from behind Simon’s gaze as Stevens scurries from the room.

“He only wants to fuck you.” He struggled to speak around your hold on his lip.

“I’m glad someone wants to, I am really tired of finding orgasms alone in my room.”

Any emotion you could have divined from his face is wiped away at your words.

God if you weren’t so scared of losing the easy connection you had with him you would kiss him right now.

Simon lifts a hand slowly to your hand still holding his lip, pulling it away before gently letting your hand rest at your side. Without a word, he walks away—taking your bleeding heart with him.

✮✮✮

“John?”

He gives a hum of a response, not dragging his eyes away from the dense email on his screen.

“Do you think Simon would get the message that I would like to be more than friends if I climbed into his bed tonight?”

The words before his eyes stop looking like anything he can read.

Slowly lifting his fingers to the bridge of his nose he pinches, hoping to head off a migraine this conversation will most assuredly cause. He had watched the two of you dance around each other for years now. He had hoped that when you took Simon up on his offer of living together that something would have shifted. If anything the two idiots seemed to retreat further into their corners.

“I am not qualified to give you an answer on that.” He ends his sentence with a sigh.

Looking up John is startled to find tears in your eyes. Oh damn. You were serious.

Settling back in his chair John folds his arms across his chest.

“Simon is cautious by nature, approach him like you would a street cat. He trusts you right?”

You shift foot to foot, before nodding once.

“If he were a street cat I could feed him, and give him ear scritches, but he shies away from anything more.”

“Scooping him up and carrying him inside would be the answer now, but Simon has at least three stone on you. Is there something you can do to get him to sit still long enough to have a conversation?”

Whatever skitters through your head is something he doesn’t want to know.

“Yeah, I guess there is something I could do.”

“Alright. Now was there an actual work reason you came to my office?”

“Oh! Yes,” you pass him the file from your hand and launch back into safer topics.

✮✮✮

Stevens appeared in your office at six as requested.

“Why did you invite me out, Stevens?” You swivel side to side in your chair, staring at your keyboard.

“Well, everyone said you were Ghost’s girl, but you wouldn’t have said yes to a date in front of him if you were,” he shrugged as if that logic explained the rift that had opened in your soul.

Sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out you feel a plan form in your mind. Your fingers crack when you release them from the tight grip they had on the sleeves of your shirt.

Flicking your gaze up you pin Stevens to the wall with it.

“I am not a girl first off. I am a grown woman. Second, who I am to anyone is my decision to make, not yours. I am rescinding my offer to join you. Now get out of my office and don’t pull shit like this again,” you stand pulling your things together to head to the flat you shared with Simon.

✮✮✮

You found him there, on the couch like his boots had betrayed him and stolen the floor beneath them. One arm thrown over his eyes as his head rested on the back of the couch. Slipping off your shoes and setting down your work bag you walk across the floor, avoiding the creaky spots.

Simon doesn’t say anything when you touch his thigh, but his breathing doesn’t change so you know he is awake.

A singular fortifying breath is all you allow yourself before you set your left knee into the cushion next to his hip and swing your right leg to his other side. When your body moves funny you sit hard on him, hands on his chest for balance.

“Oof.”

Beyond the involuntary sound, Simon remains exactly as before. Sliding a finger below the collar of his shirt you edge up the bottom of his face mask. Your other hand joining in you work it up, gently folding and lifting.

“I thought you were going out with Stevens.” His voice rumbles through you from the bottom up.

“You said he only wanted to sleep with me, so why does it matter?” You keep your tone light, and unassuming as you fold the mask another time, exposing his Adam’s apple. It bobs as you trace a finger over it.

“Why are you here?” The whisper belied the harshness of his words.

“This is my home. Should I go somewhere else?”

The arm not across his eyes shifts, hand settling on the thickness of your hip, holding you in place.

“Home?”

You fold the mask over his lips now, watching as the scar pulls taut at the word.

“Yes. It has my bed, my clothes, the man that I love. What else would I call it but home?”

He stills, a statue of flesh.

“Please,” his voice breaks on the word. “I won’t survive this being a dream.”

The glacial pace lets you see the tears catching in his lower lashes as first one eye and then the other is revealed. His free hand settles on your other hip, the width of his palm firm against you.

He watches you as if a goddess had dropped into his lap, the answer to his prayers.

“Simon.” You cup his cheeks as the ache in your chest escapes in your tone. “Do good things only happen to you in your dreams?”

He closes his eyes tight as if waiting for a blow.

“No, only bad ones do.”

“Let me,” you kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Make this,” trailing kisses down the shape of it.

“The exception,” angling his face up you put your lips on his.

Eternities could have passed in the seconds it takes for him to crumble beneath you, meeting you with the strength of a drowning man.

✮✮✮

Everyone could tell something had shifted. Simon no longer glared at men who talked to their liaison, and you wore a soft smile even focused and ignoring the chaos that drifted past your door.

“I’m proud of you L.T.” Johnny slapped him on the back.

Simon glared at his friend.

“The fuck for?”

Johnny pointed with his chin to where you stood laughing at the punching bag with Gaz.

“Letting yourself be loved.”

Twisting Simon fired off a punch to Johnny’s stomach. The Scot laughed as he danced back, avoiding the hit.

He tsked at Simon, “Careful now or I will have to tell the missus you’re being mean to me.”

Flipping his friend off Simon made his way across the room to you.

Hmm. The missus. That had a nice ring to it.

You relaxed into the hand Simon settled on your back, smiling up at him with a love to eclipse the sun.

He would have never allowed love to grow in him, but it grew around him until a neat little home housed his heart and sheltered it from the storm.

Your place in his home, his bed, his heart told him that however this story ended it would be happier than how it began.

Bonus scene:

Gaz stopped next to Ghost, noticing the hand placement on the lovely little liaison.

“So L.T. she finally make a move on you?”

Ghost glances down at him before fixing his gaze on the distant wall.

“Yes, I did,” you reply.

Cupping his hands around his mouth Gaz yelled to Johnny across the room.

“Looks like Roach won the pot!”

“Canne fookin’ believe it!” The Scottish accent came out thick from the man as he cursed at the floor.

A chill ran up Gaz’s spine as he caught sight of the glower from his lieutenant.

“Give them at least a head start yeah?” You smile up at Ghost.

“Three.”

Gaz takes off running, pulling Johnny along as they tear through the base looking for somewhere to hide from their incensed commanding officer.

“Hey, Simon?”

He turns from glaring out the door his sergeants bolted through to looking at you.

The crook of your finger has him leaning closer until you rub your nose against his.

“Happy hunting.”

He cuffs out a laugh, before bumping your forehead with his own and striding after some men who needed a reminder of what he could do.

Masterlist

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ao3 author #au #but this time make it happy

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celestialgalaxyglow · 5 hours ago

Text

Batfam and Danny, Part 12

Danny: Hey Alfred, I was going through some old files and I was wondering if you could explain something to me.

Alfred: Sure thing Master Daniel.

Danny: How long were each of the Robins, Robin?

Alfred: Well Dick was Robin from the time he was 14 till he was 17, when he decided to become Nightwing. After that your father was Robin from the time he was 14 till 16, when the Joker... killed him. He was gone for six months but by the time he retuned Tim had become the new Robin so your father become Red Hood. Tim was Robin from the ages of 14 to 17, Till Steph came to us and he gave the mantel of Robin to her and became Red Robin. Steph was Robin from the age of 17 to 18, she gave up the mantel to Damian when he was dropped off by Miss al Ghul and took the name Spoiler. Damian took up the mantel of Robin upon his arrival at the age of 10 and has been Robin for the last two years.

Danny: Ok, how old is everyone?

Alfred: Dick is 25, Jason is 22, hopefully you knew that one, Tim and Barbara are 20, Steph, Cass, and Duke are 19, Damian 12, Master Bruce is 34, and my age is classified information.

Danny (laughing): How do I gain clearance to access that information.

Alfred: I grant the clearance.

Danny: Can I have clearance?

Alfred: No.

They laughed.

Alfred: I must ask Danny, what brought along this line of questioning?

Danny: It's the way Bruce talks about the former Robins. The official reports state their ages the way you told them, but between the lines, and the way Bruce talks about their times of Robins I imagined they were all around ten when they took up the mantel.

Alfred: That's a reasonable conclusion to reach. Even though everyone, except Damian, were already teenagers when Bruce took them in, he's always talked about them as if they were little kids. And in all honesty he still does.

Danny: Hmm, interesting. Wait so Bruce took on Dick in when he was 24?

Alfred: Yes. Not even a fully grown adult, the brain doesn't fully develop till the age of 25, but yet Bruce decided to adopt a kid 10 years younger than him.

Danny: Our family is strange.

Alfred (sipping his tea): That it is.

Later at Jason and Danny's apartment.

Danny: Dad can I ask you something?

Jason: What is it kid?

Danny: How did everyone react when you came back to life?

Jason: Oh, that is a story! So after I fought my way back to the Land of the Living I woke up in my coffin and dug my way out. I was a bit disoriented, but somehow made my way around the manor to the front door. I remember nocking and Alfred opening the door and that's it. This part I got from Alfred, I feel into his arms, he called for Bruce, and I was sent to a medical bed in the Batcave. When I came to, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick where next to me. They were happy to see me again, but very confused as to how I came back to life. I explained my story, and Dick started laughing, saying only I of all people would fight my way back to being alive. Bruce on the other hand would not stop apologizing for my death, no matter how many times I told him I forgave him. That's also when I learned that Bruce had killed the Joker.

Danny: What about Tim?

Jason: Tim was hiding behind a wall. Poor kid thought I'd be mad at him for stealing my job as Robin. I told him I wasn't mad and that I was done with all the vigilante stuff for the time, and wanted to take a break. He was also a little worried that Bruce would kick him out but we all put a stop to those concerns, he was part of the family and he wasn't getting rid of us that easily. Anyways, the next day Bruce tackled my legally dead status by creating a fake body of me and putting it in the coffin. So when the police asked questions, they saw a very alive me, and a very fake body in the coffin, and Gotham being Gotham, they didn't ask further question, and my legally dead status was revoked.

Danny: Really? No further questions? Like where you've been for the last six months?

Jason: Nope. But I was allowed to keep my death certificate.

Danny: What about Gotham high society and the general population?

Jason: We told this story that some madmen had kidnapped me and that I managed to escape and make it home. Everyone bought it, or at least knew better than to question it.

Danny: Honestly, that checks out.

Jason: Anyways, after that I started helping Tim train, and after two months of rest I decided to jump back to work and took up the name of Red Hood, and started infiltrating Gotham's criminal underground and quickly rose the ranks. Keep in mind I didn't tell anyone, so Bruce got concerned about this new guy taking over Gotham's criminals and sent Tim to spy. I quickly caught him and brought him for an "interrogation." I expected Bruce to send Tim so I prepared an evil monologue and everything. After I was done monologuing I removed my mask and started lecturing Tim about how easily I caught him, and that Bruce, Dick, and I taught him better. Tim got mad and we started having a screaming match. Shortly after that Bruce arrived and saw us. Bruce was not happy that I decided to go back to vigilante business without saying anything, but he was proud of the work I was doing, so I got away with it. And that's more or less everything.

Danny: I love this family.

Jason: Yeah, we're great. I still have a grave, right next to grandma and grandpa. ... Please don't tell Bruce I called his Martha and Thomas, grandma and grandpa, poor guy will start crying and hugging me while calling me his son.

Danny (laughing): Don't worry I won't.

(Master Post)

Current ages

Bruce - 34

Alfred - [Classified]

Dick - 25

Jason - 22

Tim - 20

Barbara - 20

Steph - 19

Cass - 19

Duke - 19

Danny - 16

Damian - 12

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marinettesaltprompts · 2 days ago

Text

The Perfect Partner (Part 3)

Prompt by @ironicreality

The expressions on Ladybug and Ryuko’s faces was worth every second he’d spent in the all-too-tight suit.

“Cat!?” Ladybug stumbled on her landing as she stared at the struggling butterfly he kept tightly trapped in one hand. “You got the Akuma- *already*?”

‘Without me!?’ went unsaid, but Cat Walker could practically feel Ladybug’s sense of reality breaking down.

“I found an opening.” Rubbing it in would be pointlessly petty and they were there to do a job, not play for points; “ready when you are.”

He held out his hand and Ladybug recovered enough to call for a Lucky Charm- an umbrella of all things- and promptly ready her yo-yo. One purification and a Miraculous Cure later, and there was no sign that Stormy Weather had ever been a threat.

“You dealt with that threat quickly,” Ryuko spoke first.

“She let her guard down,” Cat Walker calmly walked over to his dropped baton and snapped it into its compact form.

“The Akuma can multiply,” Ladybug finally regained her senses, and blurted out her critique;“If it’s left too long on its own, the Akuma can make hundreds- *thousands* of copies of itself.” Ladybug told him. “You *shouldn’t* have broken the Akumatized object before I was here.”

Well that *would* explain why no one else on her team ever tried to break the Akumatised object without her. Though from the curious look Ryuko let slip towards her leader it was news to her too.

Either way, there was nothing to be gained from point scoring;

“I understand, my apologies Ladybug.” Cat Walker calmly conceded. “I was only trying to prevent further chaos-.”

“That’s why you were here!” Ladybug sharply insisted. “To *distract* Stormy Weather until we arrived so she wouldn’t harm civilians!”

The former Akuma victim herself was still there, and turned red with embarrassment.

Ladybug instantly went pale and apologetic as she swiftly turned to the victim;

“Oh- ah, not that it’s your fault or anything!” She assured her with a wide smile. She swiftly stepped closer to Cat Walker, “I’m just grilling the team rookie on a few pointers!”

She turned to him with a far less cheerful expression. “*And there’s a lot to go over*.”

Cat Walker felt a flash of annoyance, but pushed it aside. He had places to be anyway and again; there was nothing to be gained from a petty public spat with Ladybug. “I agree, but with the attack over it might be best to table that for later. It’s the middle of the day and I’m sure we all have lives to return to.”

Ryuko was staring at him with some surprise like she expected some protest. Ladybug’s eyes narrowed for a moment before she turned on her heel to put her back to him;

“Sorry for calling you out Ryuko. We’ll talk more later.”

“That’s okay Ladybug, I’m always ready to help when I can.” Ryuko nodded to Ladybug and jumped away. Within seconds she had vanished over the Paris skyline, and with a cold look to prompt him Cat Walker quickly made his own way back to his home.

Ladybug of course was quick behind him and landed in his room just seconds after him.

“Okay let’s get something straight.” Ladybug put her hands on her hips. “Handling the Akumas is *my* job, not anyone else’s. All *you* needed to do was keep Stormy Weather busy for a bit- was that too much to ask for?”

Cat Walker bit back a sharp response and composed himself with arms held behind his back. “I was not aware of the Akuma multiplication, and was a novice fighting alone against what I understand is a *very* dangerous Akuma victim. I apologise for taking matters into my own hands, but there was a genuine risk that I would be neutralised before you returned and this Miraculous would have been lost-”

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore.” Ladybug pointedly held out her hand.

Cat Walker gladly pulled the ring from his finger- and Adrien let loose a gasp of relief as the suit peeled away in magic light.

Again there was that little black cat-thing for a second, but Ladybug practically snatched the ring out of his hand and snapped the box closed before it could say anything. Immediately she turned and zipped out the room without another word.

“… Whatever,” Adrien rolled his eyes, then stumbled as his shoes slipped. “Hey- oh *real mature*.”

Mysteriously enough, the water she’d tracked in from before had remained despite the Miraculous Cure.

Oh well. If nothing else good happened that day; Adrien was pretty sure that it would be the last time Ladybug pulled him into playing bait.

—

It happened again, this time after one of Adrien’s fencing classes.

Her was kind of bored really. Kagami had had to go with her Mom to a trip home in Japan, so he was stuck with opponents who couldn’t really stand a hope against him. He was pretty sure it was arrogant to think so, but Adrien’s many medals kind of proved that he was in another league compared to anyone in his school (most of the country in fact, if his records were true).

Whatever else he could say about Gabriel Agreste, the man had raised him to be damn good at sports (or at least paid other people to do so).

Anyway when the Akuma alert rang out, he wasn’t that bothered. That changed a bit when he was marching to the shelter with the other students though, as the others kept babbling about the heroes and Shadowmoth’s minions like it was a spectator sport;

“… Nekomata’s not been out much lately even though Butterfly man’s really been at it.”

“Think she quit?”

“Maybe, but wasn’t Ladybug already using a bunch of different cats? Could be it’s just not her turn or something.”

“Yeah but Neko’s the best of them by far…”

Adrien resisted the urge to groan. It didn’t pay to let people know you weren’t in on the whole ‘Ladybug craze’. But he couldn’t help but absorb information by osmosis anyway.

Nekomata was the name of the most capable Cat Hero since Chat Noir had retired. But she wasn’t seen that often, instead Ladybug had a bunch of others who she switched in and out with the ring on the regular.

There were theories that she was using her other heroes to hold the ring, since certain cat heroes and other regular heroes were never seen in the same battle-

“… What about that other one, the guy with a ponytail?”

“Yeah I heard he was pretty good. Kicked Stormy Weather’s butt all on his own-”

“Yeah but apparently he screwed up so-”

Whatever his fellow fencers might have thought about Adrien’s alter-ego was lost to time as a high pitched squeal ripped through the building;

“Oh Adrien~~” the squeak turned into a sing-song parody of an alluring voice. “I know you’re in here~~.”

Adrien felt the collective turn their ire against him like he’d called the Akuma to their very school, and he knew in his bones if he didn’t leave of his own volition he’d be thrown to the Akuma as tribute.

“Hunh, fangirl Akuma from the sounds of it,” Adrien chuckled with barely hidden nerves, “I should probably leave before they come here looking-”

“THANKSADRIENYOU’REABRAVEMAN!” There was a garble of shouting voices as they ‘gently’ pushed him out of the designated shelter room and locked the door behind them.

“… You could have at least pretended to object,” Adrien sighed.

Still though, he *did* need to get moving if he didn’t want the Akuma to find him and turn him into a living bodypillow or something even worse.

(Out of curiosity he’d once taken a look at some of the mail his fans sent in before his father’s assistant curated it. *Never again*.)

Fortunately for him, this Akuma was relatively easy to evade once he managed a stealthy look at it. Deranged super-powered cosplayer of some sort from her appearance. And unlike Stormy Weather, her feet were firmly planted on the ground as she marched towards the school entrance.

The solution to escaping (literally) unmolested was a simple one then; when Adrien had first come home he’d found one of his room walls covered with a climbing wall that to his surprise he’d been able to scale with inhuman agility from muscle memory alone. And now in the present that muscle-memory served him well as he slipped away from the school, turned the corner and easily scaled one of the buildings nearby.

The handholds were few and far between, but his body handled them with an ease that still surprised him, and within a minute he was resting on a rooftop facing away from the school: safe from any empowered fangirls who might have designs on him.

For five minutes.

Adrien had closed his eyes and leaned back against the roof tiles to try and get some rest (not easy against said roof-tiles and the screaming coming from his school but what else could he do?) when an annoying familiar *zip* caught his attention. He opened his eyelids to find Ladybug suddenly standing above him on the apex point of the roof, well and truly visible for anyone to see.

Adrien stared at her as she stared down at him.

There was another scream from the school as the Akuma probably did something awful.

Ladybug kept staring at him.

Adrien decided to be a good boy and help the hero so she would leave sooner; “the Akuma’s in the school.” He jammed a thumb over his shoulder.

“Yeah, *I know*.”Ladybug apparently wasn’t deaf, because she responded. There was an amused look in her eyes. “She really wants Adrien Agretse-”

“So I’ve heard,” Adrien cut her off with a shudder. “Why do you think I’m hiding here where she can’t get at me?”

“LADYBUG!” The Akuma’s screeched suddenly confirmed that she’d spotted the hero standing in bright red and black polka-dots against the Paris skyline. “GIVE ME YOUR MIRACULOUS SO I CAN KEEP ADRIEN SAFE!”

“You should get going before she comes here.” Adrien politely but pointedly motioned for her to leave.

A nasty smirk appeared on the heroine’s face though and Ladybug folded her arms and rested back on her heels. Clearly not intending to move even as the Akuma’s voice started getting closer.

“*Now* would be good.” Adrien helpfully pointed out.

“Sorry Adrien,” Ladybug ‘sighed’. “This Akuma’s a tricky one. Any time we get close she mind-controls us into Adrien fanatics We need someone to distract her, to keep her *occupied*-”

“Adrein~~~!” The Akuma was very, very close now. “I can *smell you*~~~”

“-Sorry, but we’re going to need you to keep her attention for a bit.” Ladybug suddenly grabbed Adrien’s collar and lifted him supernatural strength, clearly about to show him to the Akuma. “Just for a minute or two-”

“H-hey!” Adrien slipped himself out of his white coat sleeves and scrambled back on the roof, “why don’t you just use another heroes like usual- whoever’s using the cat ring-”

“Nekomata’s out of town and everyone else is occupied.” Ladybug casually tossed his coat over the edge of the roof, and a delighted squeal confirmed that the Akuma had caught it.

“T-then-” Adrien grit his teeth and whispered. “I’ll do it- just give me the ring and I’ll keep her occupied as Cat Walker.”

“Hmm…” Ladybug exaggerated a thinking pose and tapped her chin, “and why should I let you even touch the ring after last time?”

“Because you need *someone* on the Cat and you know I’m ‘good with the ring’, *remember*?” Adrien insisted.

Ladybug probably would have drawn things out more for whatever gratification she was getting (what, did she really hate blond models or something? Clearly she had an issue with him), but the Akuma was getting closer. And luckily for Adrien Ladybug deigned to allow him to defend himself.

“Alright Cat Walker,” she opened up her yo-yo; “just follow my orders this time okay?”

—

The fanatic Akuma was surprisingly strong, but not necessarily a complicated opponent to fight. All it took was another of Ladybug’s strange plans and a few bruises to Cat Walker’s torso and the embarrassed fangirl was purified.

Unfortunately for Adrien, that wasn’t where it ended.

Sure, Ladybug reclaimed the ring as usual; but Shadowmoth was apparently on a spree. Within an hour there was another Akuma rampaging through the streets, and Ladybug showed found Adrien to practically shove the ring on his finger, clearly under the impression that he owed her for not letting using him as bait for the previous Akuma.

And once that Akuma was done and dusted- the same thing happened. Ring off, Ladybug went away- two hours pass and whoops! There’s another Akuma and Ladybug demands Adrien go play punchingbag for the next Magical Malcontent.

And again.

And *again*.

And every day for a full week, Adrien’s life was consumed by a part-time volunteer position under Ladybug. Shadowmoth had obviously noticed Nekomata’s absence and was trying to take advantage

Apparently after Nekomata, Cat Walker *was* Ladybug’s best cat. But Adrien wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t just leaving him to risk death and dismemberment for her own petty amusement. Because surely Ladybug’s team had more strategies to occupying the Akuma than ‘leave the cat hero to play for time’; but if they did they weren’t letting him on them.

And for all that Adrien chafed at the role, the remembrance of how Ladybug had very nearly used him as live bait quietened his complaints. He’d been critical of Ladybug’s approach long before he used the ring but he’d known that the crowds at school, the whole of Paris even, unconditionally supported the hero and her team. So he’d long since learned to keep his tongue to himself, even when she ruthlessly engaged in collateral damage that surely had to have involved casualties (even if they were later restored).

But there was a different side to Ladybug, at least for him. Because even if she had a use for him, a *need* for him with Nekomata absent; Ladybug *hated* him for some reason.

Not just in some abstract way like his haters on the internet hated the model boy from the magazines, but something deep and personal. He could feel it when she looked at him, how she talked at him. And he was certain that she wasn’t bluffing when she’d offered to throw him to the Akuma and whatever it might do to him.

So upsetting her by turning down the ring when she wanted to use him was a danger that he knew better than to entertain. So Cat Walker accepted his role as it came, and devoted himself to it with all the professional focus of a man who wanted his job to be done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

And it wasn’t all bad, there was a certain satisfaction in a job well done. In keeping Paris safe and successfully defeating one opponent after another. In the end it wasn’t that different from his martial arts, sports and lessons; there were rules to fighting the varied and strange Akuma, patterns to follow and his body seemed to know by instinct what moves to make. The ring was surely helping him, but there was still that thrill of mastering a new, difficult skill or technique that he usually got from reaching a new level with his other studies.

But the novelty of achieving acrobatics and combinations that no human body (even his that was somehow durable enough to take a fall from his room ceiling with little more than a winding) wasn’t quite enough to offset the drawbacks of being Ladybug’s temporary cat;

—

Ladybug’s plans were *insane*. Just utterly insane.

Somehow they always worked, Adrien couldn’t deny that. But more often than not they worked in *spite* of all logic and reason. And that wasn’t just a gripe of a put-upon minion;

There had to be magic at work, because even outside of the charms themselves, there were times when they used mundane objects as part of said plans and they started acting against conventional physics.

One plan had them fight a massive, Ape-like Akuma by restraining them with a fire-hose Lucky Charm. But they’d fastened the rope around a few matching steel poles;

—

“Ladybug!” Cat Walker sharply warned through the earpiece as he dodged yet another strike from the Akuma, letting a pair of medium-sized mice heroines swiftly encircle the wrist of said Akuma with the long hose. “Those poles won’t hold them!”

“Just do your job Cat.” Ladybug retorted through the earpiece.

“I-”

There was a beep as Ladybug cut him off from the main comms.

All he could do was exactly that, draw the Ape-Akuma’s attention while the rest of the team slowly but surely entangle the Ape’s limbs with the hose. The problem was that in while the Lucky Charm seemed to have some magical property that made it unbreakable even with the Akuma’s strength, the flagpoles they were anchoring the hose to were surely going to be torn out the second the rope went taut.

After all, the strength to break stone slabs with ease wasn’t just going to be held back with whatever cheap steel went into making a flagpole.

And yet…

When the time came and Ladybug called out; “PULL!”

The Ape was entrapped in a tight trap, and the flagpoles didn’t so much as *bend* despite the combined tension from multiple heroes and the Ape’s own strength against them. The Wasp hero- Vesperia- dropped in a second later and the battle was over.

(Why hadn’t they just used Vesperia from the start?)

—

A day later, and there was another plan, this time more risky than irrational.

This time it was some kind of bug person who was invulnerable from any point but the top of their head. Again, Cat Walker was on distraction duty while Ladybug pulled together another plan.

This time the Lucky Charm was a drone. A fully functioning drone that Ladybug insisted on flying up on over the Akuma so she could drop down from it while someone else he couldn’t see operated it.

Considering how fast the humanoid bug-thing was, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

Again it seemed like an obvious solution to just have Vesperia paralyze the Akuma, or maybe he could have made a pit to trap the Akuma with the Cataclysm power.

But again, through pure Luck and a well timed verbal barb to get the thing’s attention: it somehow worked out.

—

Finally there was the quiz Akuma, the with the game-based powers that Ladybug decided they would play against.

The victim was a teacher from Dupont, apparently one who was very, *very* done with her students cheating on their tests. She’d turned one of the classes into some facsimile of a gameshow with her students becoming a literal captive audience and was broadcasting it to the whole of Paris.

The Akumatized object was one of the prizes and they have to put up their own Miraculous as collateral to play. Cat Walker didn’t care for game shows in the first place and suggested a direct approach;

“The Akuma appears to have no real combat ability,” Cat Walker observed, “if Vesperia-”

“We’ve gone over this, Vesperia has *one* shot with her power- just like everyone else so we need to make it count!” Ladybug snapped back, “and Akumas like this usually have some trick to stop us from just marching and taking their object!”

Cat Walker stepped back to avoid agitating the clearly irritated heroine. He couldn’t say Ladybug was *wrong*; at this point he was well aware Vesperia’s sting was only effective if the Akuma was too distracted or occupied to dodge her obvious lunges (though really if he were ever asked he’d have to say that it was a *problem* that Vesperia needed so much significant setup from the rest of the team to use her power at all- maybe her Miraculous would have been better suited to someone with better agility and hand-to-hand combat prowess). And he was a novice at Akuma battles so he couldn’t dispute her instincts about the more abstract Akumas.

However…

“I understand Ladybug,” he assured her. “But what is stopping the Akuma from rigging their own game? Is there some rule that the Akuma’s power have to be *fair*?”

“Heh, no.” Ladybug actually laughed at that, then turned to him with a smirk; “but who says *we* have to play fair either?”

Cat Walker raised an eyebrow, “Ladybug?”

“Just put your earpiece in and listen to Viperion,” Ladybug stepped back and pushed Cat Walker towards the classroom.

Viperion as it turned out, was a snake hero and he was with someone who went by ‘Pegasus’ (no prizes to guess his animal theme) who was himself using a laptop. And they were going to help Cat Walker *cheat*.

“Ahh, our first contestant!” The Akuma smiled in her gaudy pinstriped suit. “The Black Cat du jour, such a shame for such a stunning career to be cut so short, but it would be a crime not to see that handsome face on TV!

Just remember, no backing out and no tricks or it’s game over~~” The Presenter turned to her audience, “but don’t worry, you’ll have one of the best seats in town!”

A spotlight magically appeared over an unoccupied seat, in the middle of a sea of very occupied seats holding visibly disturbed and helpless teenagers.

Well, at least Adrien would have company if Ladybug’s plan fell though.

—

The game had four rounds for increasingly more valuable prizes, and by increasingly valuable that meant wonderful things like hall passes, study guides, an honor roll and the actual Akumatized object (an answer sheet). Of course to play, Cat Walker had to be willing to wager his Miraculous every time, and while he didn’t have to take it off he was quite certain that the Akuma’s own magic would claim it if he failed anyway.

Fortunately, the format was easy. Just answer a question correctly, and Cat Walker would advance to the next round. Fail, and Cat Walker instantly lost, no surprises there.

Still, even though the first two questions were easy enough (just obscure trivia tangentially related to Dupont’ curriculum) before Viperion and Pegasus gave him the answers.

Round three is when things became difficult;

“Stop, Cat Walker!” Viperion’s voice was suddenly sharp in his ear- a distinct shift from his easy-going tone a moment ago; “Presenter is going to check you for cheating in a few seconds, you need to get rid of the earpiece!”

Cat Walker’s eyes widened, but recovered as Viperion continued; “I just turned back time, she’ll confiscate your Miraculous in front of Paris!”

“Turn back ti-” Cat Walker caught himself as his gasp caught The Presenter’s attention.

“Turn back *what* Mr Walker?” The Presenter’s eyes focused on him like hawk, “is there something you want to share with the rest of us?”

The Akuma was rapidly approaching, and Cat Walker had no good options-

If the Akuma could take the ring from cheating then fighting would surely count, dropping the earpiece would be too noticeable, he needed a distraction- no, he had to *make* a distraction!

“Oh don’t mind me,” he chuckled, “I was just thinking that I should have turned back home for an umbrella, the weather’s about to make a downpour, it’s a good thing that…”

He pulled his baton from his back and the Akuma’s eyes locked on it, he a pressed a button and…

The tip extended about half a metre into the air to their side.

“Oh…” Cat Walker mumbled.

“Was that supposed to do something?” The Presenter seemed amused.

“I was hoping it would turn into an umbrella,” Cat Walker sighed, and brushed his hand over his ear like he was pushing back a stray hair. “I heard it could do that kind of thing.”

He pressed the same button, and the baton briefly extended again. “Ah, excuse me for a moment,” he brought both hands to the controls and seemed to struggle to compact his own weapon.

“Well it would be bad luck anyway!” The Presented rolled her eyes at his obvious ineptitude. With her attention diverted, Cat Walker nimbly slid the earpiece into baton’s compartment and snapped it closed before replacing it to his back.

Needless to say, The Presenter’s cheat-check a moment later failed to disqualify him.

Round Three was fortunately easy again, at least for him. Just English, and that was one of Adrien’s first languages (at least according to Gabriel Agreste).

Round Four was when things very nearly went awry.

“Alright Mr Walker, you’re clearly a very smart boy,” the Akuma purred and her eyes brightened; “so why don’t you come up and show us how it’s done!”

She stepped aside and whiteboard appeared where she’d been a moment ago, she held out a marker with clear glee.

The Whiteboard showed a deceptively simple equation:

xn+yn=zn

Cat Walker sighed to himself. He’d been correct, the Akuma had no intention of playing fair.

“What’s the matter Mr Walker?” The Present chortled. “It’s just *maths*!”

“I would hardly call Fermat’s Last Theorem ‘just maths’ dear lady.” Cat Walker approached.

“Oh, you *know* what this is?” The Presenter’s eyes gleamed as she held out the marker, “don’t worry I’m *sure* you can solve…”

Her words trailed off as Cat Walker gently took the marker from her hand, and too her absolute shock he started writing letters on the board;

“What are you��?” Her eyes followed the diagram as he drew out a diagram.

“Apologies, but unless you have a larger whiteboard you’ll have to accept this” Cat Walker had no intention of simply giving up, but he’d couldn’t exactly recall a hundred page document of advanced mathematics from memory. “Wiles and Taylor’s proof is a bit wordy.”

It was all presentation. The proof had been but one of Adrien Agreste’s electric collection of interesting documents that his amnesiac self had found (apparently he’d liked obscure trivia), but even with his more than decent mathematical skills he wouldn’t be able crack such a proof without a lifetime of prep. But what he was, was in close range of the Akuma and her prize, and lacking any better options he was certain he could at least try to Cataclysm the gleaming cage just behind her and destroy the answer sheet before she claimed the ring.

But that wasn’t necessary, as the Akuma’s eyes widened; “it… it’s been solved?”

Her voice was weak.

“Yes, quite famously so.” Cat Walker assured her. “You can check me if you like.”

The Presenter closed her eyes, and Cat Walker prepared to pounce, but he was startled as the answer sheet vanished with a glow and appeared in his hands.

“Well, that’s game and match then,” The Presenter chuckled and a wave of dark bubbles washed over her as a butterfly escaped from the sheet.

—

Ladybug’s plans worked.

Somehow.

Somehow they *always* worked. Even when they were needlessly risky, implausible, or just impractical.

Even when they *shouldn’t.*

Just how much of Paris’ safety was dependent on Ladybug’s good luck carrying them?

What would happen if that luck ran out?

#Marinette salt #Adrien sugar #submission

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veryace-ficrecs · 1 day ago

Text

House/Wilson Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

criteria by PaintedVanilla - Rated T

“I don’t think they know that we’re married.”

The Private Life of Gregory House by superangsty - Rated T

"You guys really don't get it, do you?" "Get what?" "It's almost insulting, really." Or, five times the team missed the point completely, and one time where they figured it out

Bending You(r logic) by scribespirare - Rated T

Assflash, newshole, we were married the whole goddamn time.

The Line of Thought by tevinterimperium - Rated T

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase keep on trying to get into the little details of House's love life. House doesn't like that one bit.

Touch Therapy by Nomad (nomadicwriter) - Rated T

It's not that House needs the human contact. It's just that when you're sharing an apartment, these things happen sometimes.

Brain Damage by fourteencandles (thingsbaker) - Rated M

"You jerk," Wilson sighed when House walked in and set a mug on Wilson's desk. Wilson was stretched out on his own couch. The nausea had ebbed slightly during the morning, but then he'd tried to eat a little oatmeal, and now it seemed in danger of flowing again. "It's tea," House said. Wilson glanced up at him, and House looked away. "From Cameron." "Yes, God forbid I think you care," Wilson said.

no need to worry (making up your mind) by scribespirare - Rated T

House makes the mistake of telling his mother he can't join her for Christmas because of his new boyfriend. Somehow, this becomes Wilson's problem.

An Essay On Stupidity by DumpsterBeagle - Rated T

House starts to wear his wedding ring, after almost a year, to screw with his team. Cameron, Chase, and Foreman are more confused than they've probably ever been.

only fools rush in by bittereternity - Rated T

so take my hand, and take my whole life too. Or, the one in which Wilson realizes he's in love. It kind of throws him off-kilter.

The Crystal Closet by VictoriaAGrey - Rated M

Wilson starts acting oddly towards House and House wants to know why. When he gets his answer, it makes matters infinitely more complicated.

mutualism by PaintedVanilla - Rated G

When Wilson walks into her office with House’s name on his lips, he’s either there to tell her he’s back on his bullshit with yet another patient, he’s mad at him for reasons outside the hospital, or he’s simply perplexed by his husband.

Things That Go Bump by peg22 - Rated E

Wilson has nightmares. House gets a headache. Everyone tries to diagnose just what's going on between them. This story is set in Season 2, before House got shot, before the first ducklings left us, before Amber, before House/Cuddy . . . those halcyon days where House and Wilson were just . . . House and Wilson. Wilson is sleeping on House's sofa, after moving out from cancer patient, Grace. "Wilson just shook his head and limped back into the kitchen. He unloaded a sack of fresh produce. Good produce. Endives and garlic and tomatoes and asparagus. He moved on to the next sack. Beef. Good beef. Brisket and rump roast and ribeyes . . . he was halfway through the third sack of spices and imported cheeses, whistling and daydreaming about braised salmon with fresh asparagus when it hit him. He was being seduced. Through groceries. By groceries. By House through groceries. And he was falling for it. Hard. Lox, stock pot, and basil."

let it slip by zlicxn - Rated T

“Would you put money on it, Foreman?” Chase asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at both of them, “Come on. Fifty bucks each, bit of holiday fun.” Foreman leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, “Why are you so eager to make this a bet? Spend too much on Christmas presents?”

Chase’s mouth twitches, “Can’t a guy just want to have a friendly wager with his colleagues?”

After a slip on some ice lands House in the hospital with a concussion he accidentally reveals to his fellows that he was planning to propose to someone, but doesn't say to who. That's up to them to figure out.

Everything by merchantivory - Rated G

House may combust if he doesn't find a way to control his love for Wilson. Then he finds Morse code. - Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. or, I love you.

Interlude by merchantivory - Rated G

5 times House kissed Wilson + 1 time Wilson kissed House

Fresh Feeling by Justkeeptrekkin - Rated M

House is tricked into going on a team-building trip with his colleagues. He does far more bonding with Wilson than anyone else.

at the rind by ShanaStoryteller - Not Rated

Wilson keeps having nightmares about House dying. They feel more like memories.

less obvious causes by captainharkness - Rated T

“You’re also still not wearing the lab coat.” “Take it up with the wife,” he drawls, eyes flitting to Wilson, who flushes red. Cuddy raises a single eyebrow at him. Wilson clears his throat, “I have it on good advice that your wife did the washing up last night. She says it’s your turn to do the laundry.” - Alternatively: House and Wilson have been together for years. They just haven't gotten around to telling most people. Told through a series of standalone chapters.

#veryace recs #house md #gregory house #james wilson #hilson #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs #ao3

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nozo-muu · 9 hours ago

Note

Hello Zero, Could you do a hot David Corenswet scene? the new Superman Something like him feeling jealous of the male reader.By the way, I would like to know if you write for DC too

Thank you so much for the ask! To be honest, I'm not the biggest DC watcher/reader so this might be ooc, but I tried my best. Also, I don't really write for DC since, again, I'm kinda out of the loop, but you can always ask!

YOU'VE CONVINCED ME, SUPERMAN

Pairing: Top!Superman/Clark Kent X Bottom!male reader

CW: Sex, Jealousy, Oral (reader giving), Ass eating (reader receiving), creampie?

Author's note: I don't know how to feel about this...

Metropolis was sunny as always. The sun beamed through the windows of the redaction office. Clark was working on a news article about a mysterious figure spotted multiple times over the last few weeks whenever chaos struck the city.

He knew who that was, a vigilante he had “worked” with a couple of times to fight off some bad guys. He had to admit, he was talented, his energy manipulation magic was impressive. And the way he fought hand to hand… Gosh, it was a sight for sore eyes.

“Breaking news!” He turned to watch the TV they had in the office. “An attack has been perpetrated on the intersection between Rowan and Mains Street. The attacker has already destroyed multiple police units.”

Upon hearing that, Clark made his way towards the stairs that led to the rooftop. He needed to do something. Once he got undressed, revealing his suit, he leaped off the edge of the building and flew towards the place of the incident.

The area was surrounded by police cars, trying to contain the danger, which honestly wasn't going to accomplish much.

He flew down, landing on his feet. There wasn't that much mayhem… some upside-down cars, cracks on the ground, and some nearby stores with shattered windows.

There was a figure though, a big silhouette, almost animal-like. It had shards of some kind of crystal all over its back.

“I would be careful if I was you”

He looked around, seeing you levitating off to the side.

“The bastard's got some strength. And those shards… Kryptonite maybe? I wouldn’t touch them if I were you.” You say, approaching the broad man beside you.

“Kryptonite? How is that possible?”

“Beats me.” You shrugged. “As long as you don't attack his back, we should be good.”

He nodded understandingly, preparing his attack while you immobilized that thing with your magic. You could have gotten rid of the threat on your own perfectly, but you wanted to see him. He was so fine, it was like skipping dessert if you didn't look him up and down after a fight.

The threat now being eliminated, you walked over to the police cars where a head of police approached you two.

“That thing shouldn't cause any problems anymore. I've gotten rid of its body. There shouldn't be any more issues, officer.”

Clark stood silent behind you.

“Thank you, thank you. I don't know what we would have done without you.”

“You probably could have handled it too, I'm sure of that.” You replied smiling.

There you were again, making small talk with some random guy. He didn't know why, but he hated it when you did that, always having flirty remarks and comments, and smiling at strangers.

Some passers-by were shouting your names, and of course, you went and took pictures with them, smiling and being friendly.

He hated it.

Once everyone had started to dissipate, you went back to his side. He was silent…

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, I just need to go get my clothes.”

“I'll come with you. We can go watch the sunset later or something.”

He grunted. He didn't want that, he wanted to fuck you then and there. To show you you were not about to go around flirting with everyone. You weren't together or anything, but he wanted you to be only his.

When you landed on the rooftop of the building, he took his clothes and made his way towards a broom closet where he had been putting his discarded clothes to go pick up at a later date.

That's when an idea crossed his mind. He quickly took your wrist and locked you both inside the broom closet.

“What are you -” you get cut off by his lips on yours. He was a surprisingly good kisser.

“Let me fuck you.”

“What?”

“Let me claim you.” He keeps kissing your neck.

You moan at the sensation, and seeing that you're not pushing him away, he takes that as a yes.

He starts getting rid of his and your clothes, leaving you as naked as the day you were born in that dark room.

He starts planting kisses all over your torso and neck, leaving some marks here and there to show that you are his.

He slightly pushes your shoulders down, enticing you to get on your knees.

You oblige and kneel in front of him, instinctively taking his member into your mouth. You started licking around the tip, slowly making your way down the shaft. The sensation made him tremble and groan…

You kept sucking his cock until you felt him push you away slightly. It was now all wet and ready, but your hole still needed some prep.

“Turn around for me.”

You did as he asked, now facing the door separating you from the outside world. Clark got on his knees and spread your cheeks apart. He spat on your hole, slowly massaging the liquid around your entrance. He approached his face and started eating you out. Once he felt you were ready to take him, he got up, embracing you from behind and whispering in your ear.

“Can I fuck you now?”

“Yes.”

He kissed you one final time before lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly pushed in, making sure to not hurt you. You moan at the feeling of it stretching your hole. He paused for a little so you could get used to the feeling of it.

“Can I move?”

“Mmhmm” You nod, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

He started moving slowly, but then sped up, remembering all those fuckers you had flirted with. In a way, fucking you was a win against those nobodies who thought they had a chance with you.

The pace was perfect, rough but gentle enough to not hurt you. He kept hitting your spot, your cock leaking from the pleasure. For an alien, he sure knew how to fuck a man’s ass well.

He then pulled away a little, turning you around.

“I want you to face me.”

You nodded, and he took you in his strong arms, pressing you against his muscular torso. You straddled him while being suspended in the air, his member lining up with your hole. He inserted it again, this time hitting deeper because of the position. He started kissing you while you bounced on him.

He took your cock in his hand, and using the precum he rubbed your tip, before starting to stroke you while fucking you.

“Clark…” You moaned in his ear.

“I’m also getting close, pretty boy.”

You kept that position until you both hit your climax. You came first, your cum coating his hand and your abs.

“Can I cum inside?” He asked sultrily.

You hummed, still kissing his neck and leaving the occasional bite mark from pleasure on his neck and collarbone.

That’s when you felt it, the warm liquid filling your hole. He pulled out his thick member and rested you on a table as he kissed your forehead.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. You fuck like a pornstar…Damn.”

He chuckled softly at the compliment.

“That means you’ll only flirt with me from now on then? “

“Fine, you've convinced me, Superman.”

He smiled. He officially had you for himself now. And if you ever started your little games again, he’d jealous fuck you again and again until you understood.

#male reader #male y/n #x male reader #male reader smut #mlm smut #smut #gay #clark kent x reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x m!reader #dc x reader #dc x male reader #superman x you #superman x reader #superman x male reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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aylacavebear · 14 hours ago

Text

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 1

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 4356

Warning: Angst, longing. Not much that I can think of.

A/N: So, a couple characters in this one I pulled from a couple other shows. Professor Rober Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager as I absolutely love that character. And, Professor Alaric Saltzman from The Vampire Diaries. Another loved character.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1

“God, Mom,” you muttered as she twisted your hair into a neat braid, her hands working with practiced ease. “I’m so done with this. It’s been six months since I presented, and it’s been non-stop alphas and their parents since. I can’t keep doing this—I need a break.”

“Sweetie, I know,” your mom said, her voice soothing but worn. “You’ve been so patient. Just one more week, and you’ll get the break you deserve. Everyone knows you need it.”

Her words were meant to calm you, but they only added to your irritation. How could anything think this was sustainable? At first, the idea of meeting your soulmate had filled you with cautious excitement. But after two solid months of awkward introductions, forced smiles, and watching alpha after alpha recoil at your scent, the novelty had worn off. Now, it was exhausting, and even your schoolwork had started to slip.

That thought made something click. Narrowing your eyes, you turned toward her. “Wait a minute. This is about my grades, isn’t it? My tutor said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your mom froze for a moment before letting out a long sigh, her hands falling to her sides. “Yes,” she admitted, her tone tinged with guilt. “He told us your grades were slipping, and we all agreed you needed time to reset. The pack is just trying to help you, honey. No one wants you to feel like this any longer than you have to.” You inhaled deeply, holding back a biting retort. She wasn’t wrong—your pack always looked out for one another. You’d seen firsthand what it was like for wolves who had to wait too long to find their soulmates. Your cousins were living proof. Twins, like their mates, they hadn’t met them until their late twenties. You remembered the strain it put on them, how restless and incomplete they’d been until fate finally stepped in.

Still, the constant parade of alphas was suffocating. “Fine,” you said, standing up and crossing to the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, the simple purple dress draping neatly over your frame. The lace trim along the hemline was delicate, almost fragile, like the image your pack was so determined to project for you.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you muttered. It was an image that felt like a lie, but you kept that to yourself.

Your mother gave you a sympathetic smile but didn’t press further. She followed as you left your room, descending to the living room where the introductions would take place.

Three of your cousins—tall, broad-shouldered alphas—and two of your uncles stood like sentinels behind the couch, their imposing figures a silent warning to anyone who thought about stepping out of line. You took your place in the middle of the sofa, your mother at your side while your father greeted the family at the door.

The young alpha they brought barely crossed the threshold before his nose wrinkled in disgust. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as he stumbled back, mumbling an excuse before retreating with his parents.

The next four families fared no better. Each time, the alphas visibly recoiled at your scent, their discomfort impossible to hide. Your pack had long since grown used to it, but outsiders couldn’t seem to stomach it. By the time the last family left, you were seething.

You stormed upstairs, yanking the dress off and tossing it into the back of your closet without a second thought. Pulling on jeans, a tank top, and sneakers, you slipped out the back door, desperate for air and solitude.

All you wanted to do was go to the land and hide in that cabin where you always sat to watch the full moon. Somehow, it brought you comfort, and for some reason, you didn’t feel so lonely. Since that wasn’t an option, the area behind your home of dense forest would have to suffice.

Your cousins followed at a respectful distance, knowing better than to crowd you when you were like this. Wolves were social, drawn to comfort and connection. You, however, were different. Your feline instincts demanded solitude, and when cornered, you lashed out. You’d done it before, unintentionally, but the lesson had stuck.

The late summer air was warm, but the forest canopy above offered shade, the dappled sunlight creating patterns on the soft earth beneath your feet. The songs of birds filled the silence, soothing your frayed nerves.

Flexing your hands, you extended your claws, the sharp tips glinting faintly in the light. With a quick leap, you scaled the nearest tree, your claws finding purchase in the bark. You pushed higher, moving from branch to branch until you were far above the ground, where no wolf could follow.

Settling into a comfortable nook, you leaned against the trunk, finally allowing yourself to exhale. Up here, surrounded by the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of life below, the tension in your chest eased. It wasn’t where you wanted to be, but it would suffice, for now.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of gold and amber, you stayed in your perch, watching until the last traces of daylight faded. Only then did you climb down, your heart heavy with the knowledge that tomorrow would bring more of the same.

—--------------

That entire week felt like a waking nightmare, even though the alphas’ and their parents’ faces provided fleeting amusement. You’d learned to find humor in their disgusted expressions—it was easier than giving in to the ache threatening to break you. Tears would only worry the pack, and you’d do anything to avoid that. But no matter how much you masked it, your parents could sense the strain in your scent. That’s why they’d agreed to spread out the meetings, though it didn’t erase the sheer volume of introductions still looming over you.

By the end of that week, you were ready to tear your hair out. The blue dress you’d worn was discarded onto the closet floor, forgotten as you flung open drawers and started packing for the cabin. “Sweetie,” your mother’s voice came softly from the doorway, her worry laced with the gentle tone she reserved just for you. “We can smell how frustrated you are, even downstairs. Is there anything we can do to help?”

Her concern made your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down, shoving a pair of sneakers into your bag. “I just… I need to go to the cabin. I always feel better there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

She nodded, not pressing further, and slipped away to give you space. Alone again, you exhaled shakily, willing yourself to calm down. It wasn’t the pack’s fault—not really—and you hated the idea of burdening them more than you already had. When you finally descended the stairs, your emotions were tethered just tightly enough to avoid questions. “I’m ready,” you said simply.

Your cousins and uncles flanked you in a protective semi-circle, the weight of their presence both reassuring and stifling. Outside, they divided into two vehicles for the drive to the land. It was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the road beneath the tires, and you found yourself counting the minutes until you’d be alone again.

The land’s familiar sights greeted you like an old friend as the cabin came into view, nestled among the trees. A few families lived here year-round, tending to things between full moons, but for the next two days, the cabin owned by your parents was yours alone. They wouldn’t arrive until the full moon itself, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

After exchanging farewells with your uncles and cousins, you stepped into the cabin, the air inside cool and still. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you let out a long, unguarded sigh. Finally, some breathing room. The tension in your chest began to unravel, bit by bit. No alphas, no schoolwork, no forced smiles, and mostly no responsibilities for a full five days, six if you were lucky.

As you unpacked, your mind wandered back to when you were twelve, when your parents finally explained just how different you were. It was late afternoon after school, the golden sunlight slanting through your bedroom window as you hunched over your desk, pencil tapping rhythmically against the math assignment your tutor had left you. The work was dull, the equations uninspired. You were eager to finish and move on to the bonus problems—challenges that always seemed to hold your attention far better than the standard curriculum.“Sweetie,” your mother’s voice came softly from the doorway, interrupting your focus. “Your father and I need to talk to you.”

Without glancing up, you murmured, “I’ll be down in a sec.”

You finished the equation you were working on before making your way downstairs, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle over you as you descended. The air in the living room felt heavier than usual, and as you rounded the corner, you found your parents seated on the couch, their hands clasped tightly together. You hesitated before taking a seat across from them in one of the recliners.

They exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Their expressions were a mix of joy and apprehension, a strange duality that only made your chest tighten with unease.

Your mother was the first to speak, her voice trembling slightly. “You have a genetic mutation,” she began, her eyes searching yours for a reaction. “You’ve learned about it in your studies, but… there are things we need to explain. Once you present omega, you won’t be able to shift during the full moon.” Her words were gentle, but you could see the tears she was trying to keep from falling.

The words landed heavily, but she pressed on, her tone gentle. “We know that’s going to be hard for you, but you’ll always be on the land during full moons, and we’re hoping that will help.” Her voice wavered as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

Your father leaned forward, his voice steadier but tinged with an unspoken sadness. “The pack will be there for you, always. Having the Touched mutation is rare—rare and special. After your soulmate finds you and you have pups, they’ll be immune to many illnesses and disorders. That’s something no one will know until they’re tested.”

Some of this wasn’t new to you. You’d pieced together bits and pieces over the years, but the mention of immunity caught your attention. Curiosity flared, and you made a mental note to ask your tutor about it during your next lesson.

“That’s kinda neat,” you admitted, your tone cautious. “But… why does it seem like there’s a bad side to all this?”

Your parents exchanged another look, heavier this time, before your father sighed. “Your scent,” he began carefully, “will be unpleasant to others. The only one who will find it pleasing will be your soulmate. Once you present, we’ll set up meetings with alphas and their families. Until your soulmate comes, that’s the best we can do. But After he claims you with his mark, everything will change. You’ll be able to smell the scents of others and their emotions in their scent. You’ll be able to shift during the full moon, and…” your father trailed off at the end, like it was something he didn’t fully want to discuss.

You looked at him, a little puzzled, and tilted your head in curiosity, but your mother chuckled and continued. “You’ll have your first heat, like a normal omega.”

Your eyes went wide, but you giggled. To him, you were still his little girl and he didn’t want you to have to grow up too fast. “I think I’ll be okay. I have Jess and my whole pack.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues as you leaned against the cabin window, exhaling slowly. God, I was so naive back then. It had only been two and a half years, but it felt like a lifetime.

You still hadn’t figured out why being on the land soothed something deep inside you. At first, you’d blamed it on nature, then on the full moon itself, but neither explanation ever quite fit. You’d been here before, between moon cycles, and it hadn’t felt the same. And that one month you hadn’t been on the land for the full moon? Watching from your bedroom window hadn’t brought that same comfort, either. It was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

There was one rule that only applied to you: Stay inside at night. No one had ever explained why. You’d justified it in your own way—telling yourself that your pack didn’t want you to feel left out, that they wanted to protect you from the pain of what you couldn’t have. It had been an easy enough excuse to follow.

Two days later, your parents arrived, along with nearly ten other families. The land was alive with movement and laughter as everyone settled in. You’d helped prepare for the feast the night before, making sure there was plenty of food to fuel the wolves through their shift. These gatherings were some of your happiest moments—when the pack came together like this, when the air buzzed with excitement and belonging.

As the sun set, the pack split off into their groups. Bonded pairs disappeared into the trees. Young, unbonded alphas followed their mentors in another direction. Unbonded omegas went with two haunted pairs to run together, singing to the moon, playing in the forest. Their voices carried through the air, weaving into the night like an ancient melody.

You lingered inside, curling up in the window seat, watching the moon rise. Soon, the howls began—a symphony of voices, familiar and reassuring. But as you listened, a sharp ache settled in your chest. This was why you endured the meeting with the alphas and their parents. This was why you played along with your family’s plans. Only your soulmate could wake your wolf, could bring her to the surface, and make you whole.

But tonight felt… different.

The pull had always been there—this urge to step outside, to belong—but it had never been this strong. A shiver ran down your spine, and before you realized it, you were standing at the cabin door, fingers curled around the handle. You swallowed hard, breath uneven. The logical part of you screamed to step back. But curiosity had always been your downfall.

The warm night air of summer softly kissed your skin as you closed your eyes and breathed deeply the scents of earth and pine. Being outside felt freeing, far more than just being on the land itself. Then, something stirred. Not around you—inside you. It wasn’t a voice, not quite. More like an instinct, an awareness humming beneath your skin.

Your feet moved before you could second-guess yourself. You knew where your pack was, could feel their presence even from here. And yet, you walked in the opposite direction, toward the trees.

When you finally stopped, moonlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground in silver. It was quiet—only the rustling of leaves and distant sounds of nocturnal creatures filled the space.

A warmth washed over you as that gentle stirring inside you grew strong. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back and let out a soft, wavering howl.

It felt right. Natural

It was a song of loneliness, of longing to belong, of love for your pack. Of the ache that came with not being able to be like them. As your voice faded into the night, a tear slid down your cheek, and you brushed it away with a shaky breath.

Then, another sound.

Your body went rigid. A howl—low and resonant, answering yours from somewhere beyond the fence line. Goosebumps erupted across your skin. It was an alpha. Young. Close.

Fear slithered up your spine. The land was enclosed, meant to keep outsiders away, yet the sound sent a warning thrumming in your bones. Shit, my parents are gonna kill me. You turned on your heel and hurried back to the cabin, heart hammering. The second the door clicked shut, you locked it.

The next two nights, you fought that pull. It was a battle that left your body tense, your chest aching in ways you hadn’t expected. On the third night, you gave in—going back to that spot, one last song to the moon before knowing you’d be going home soon.

And again, he answered.

Both times, after your song faded into the night, the alpha howled in return.

You didn’t tell your parents. Didn’t tell your pack. If they knew you weren’t following their one rule, you worried they might forbid you from coming to the land at all. There was only one person you could trust with this secret. Jess. Even if she was younger, even if she might not understand completely—she was your best friend. And right now, you needed her more than ever.

Midway through the week, you had Jess over after she’d gotten out of school, desperately needing to tell someone. However, the moment you finished sharing what had happened, you wished you had perhaps kept some of the details to yourself.

Jess practically vibrated with excitement. “Wait. WAIT. So you just stood there, all alone in the dark, and howled? And then he howled back?!”

You nodded.

She clutched her chest. “That is the coolest thing I have ever heard!”

You blinked. “Really?” “Yes! It’s like—like one of those epic adventure stories! Like, you’re this lost princess with a secret power, and he’s the mysterious stranger who—” She stopped mid-sentence, wrinkling her nose. “Ew, wait, no, never mind. That sounds romantic. Gross.” You snickered.

“But still!” Jess leaned in, practically bounding. “What if he’s part of, like, some secret rival pack? Or an exiled prince? Or—ooh!—what if he’s some ancient spirit haunting the land?!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You read way too many books.” “And you don’t read enough!” Jess grinned. “Okay, so what’s the plan? Are we investigating? Do you think he’ll howl next full moon? Are you gonna howl back?!”

You hesitated.

Jess’s grin faded. “Wait… you are gonna howl back, right?” You swallowed hard. “I don’t know yet.” Jess scoffed. “Well, I know. Next time, I’m coming with you.”

You stared at her. “You can’t. You know you aren’t allowed on the land till you present.” Jess pouted. “So? I’ll sneak in your suitcase.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god.” Jess cackled. “This is gonna be awesome.” It wasn’t until a week later, during one of your lessons, that you decided to ask your tutor some questions. You’d spent days carefully figuring out how to word them—how to ask without giving away too much. The last thing you needed was for your tutor to tell your parents.

“So… about Touched,” you began, keeping your tone casual as you pretended to focus on the notes in front of you. “I know they can’t shift during the full moon, and then there’s all that scientific stuff about their genetics, but… is there anything about singing to the moon? Or being able to feel their wolf? Oh—could any of the ones before ever feel, like, a pull toward something?”

The words tumbled out faster than you intended, and when you finally looked up, Professor Robert Zimmerman was watching you with a measured expression.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, then closed the book he’d been teaching from. “There are a few things that have been documented,” he admitted. “I can ask about getting a copy of those records if you’d like to learn more about your mutation,” His voice carried that familiar, steady patience—the kind that always made you feel safe about asking questions, no matter how strange they were.

Excitement flared in your chest. “Please?”

His mouth twitched into one of those small, rare smiles. “I’ll have those for you by Monday. I promise.”

You grinned, barely containing your anticipation as he shifted the lesson back to history. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept drifting—Monday suddenly felt like a lifetime away.

Monday couldn’t get there fast enough for you, and it felt like you were crawling the walls, even when you’d go outside and try to distract yourself. The appointments with meeting alphas had finally dwindled to only after school and only three times a week, with only two families showing up on those days. It helped, but you weren’t getting your hopes up anymore. Most of your pack found their soulmate anywhere from the time they presented up until they were in their mid-twenties. So, you had time and decided not to stress over it anymore. Jess did her best to keep you distracted, filling your afternoons with stories from her school—complaints about teachers, dramatic playground politics, and, most importantly, just how disgusting boys were. That always made you laugh, and part of you missed not getting to experience it with her. Although, you knew you’d miss Professor Zimmerman and all the fun things he gave you to learn.

By Sunday night, the anticipation was unbearable. You buzzed through your nightly chores, barely able to keep still. So much so that both your parents noticed and debated asking about it when you hugged them goodnight. When you finally crawled into bed, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. I seriously need to get some sleep. The thought felt like it was on repeat in your head for hours before the depths of sleep found you.

When the doorbell rang at 8:30 the following morning, you dashed toward it, no longer able to keep your excitement contained. Your smile faded to one of confusion and curiosity when you saw an alpha standing next to Professor Zimmerman, tilting your head slightly. “Y/N, this is Professor Alaric Saltzman. He keeps the records you asked me about and he refused to let them out of his sight. So, he’s here to supervise you while you go through them,” Professor Zimmerman explained.

Professor Saltzman chuckled at your expression, but it was clear that your scent bothered him. “We can do it outside, so my scent doesn’t bother you,” you offered, catching the way he subtly controlled his breathing despite his best efforts to hide the discomfort.

“I’ll be alright.” he tried to reassure you with a genuinely friendly, albeit, amused smile.

You stepped aside to let them in, your parents now lingering near the living room. Greetings were exchanged, but you barely acknowledged them, your focus entirely on the files Professor Zimmerman carried as he headed toward the spare room that had been turned into your classroom. You were hot on his heels, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

“These aren’t the originals. They’re copies, but nothing has been redacted,” Professor Zimmerman explained as he set the files on the table in front of you. “Be careful with them, though.” You nodded quickly and pulled the first file closer, your fingers tingling as you carefully flipped it open. The sheer amount of information stunned you. There were far more records than you expected, each documenting a Touched in your lineage—one file for each of them.

Professor Saltzman eventually joined Professor Zimmerman near the whiteboard, the two quietly talking while you lost yourself in the files. Their conversation faded into background noise.

“Is she always this curious?” Saltzman asked, arms crossed as he watched you absorb every word on the page.

Zimmerman exhaled with something between amusement and pride. “Her appetite for knowledge is almost insatiable. She’s asking questions most seniors don’t even think to ask. Sometimes, it’s difficult to keep her engaged because she gets bored so easily.”

Saltzman was quiet for a moment before offering, “If you ever need anything, just ask. It’s rare to find a student who genuinely enjoys learning.”

Zimmerman smiled, “Thanks. She’ll appreciate that. If she keeps this up, she’ll graduate by her sixteenth birthday.”

You barely registered their words as you combed through each record, your focus sharpening when you started noticing patterns. By the fourth file, the similarities were impossible to ignore—so you shifted tactics, scanning for key phrases.

And then, your breath caught.

Every single one of them—every Touched before you—had met their soulmate for the first time when he was in wolf form. Never before.

A shiver ghosted down your spine, your entire body breaking out in goosebumps. You leaned back in your chair, fingers absently tracing the edge of the page as your mind raced.

Did your parents know this? Had they ever read these files? Should you tell them? Or let them keep setting up meetings, oblivious to the truth?

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Fourteen felt too young to be thinking about a soulmate. The idea of it felt… overwhelming. Maybe even a little terrifying.

But another thought crept in, quieter.

If your parents never read these, maybe that meant you still had time. Maybe it meant you could hold onto being just you for a little while longer. With a slow exhale, you closed the file and looked up at Professor Saltzman. “Thank you, for bringing.” You hesitated, then asked, Have my parents read them?”

He raised an eyebrow but softened at your expression. “You’re welcome. No, they haven’t. Would you like me to suggest that they do?”

You considered it for a long moment before shaking your head “No. It’s okay.”

Saltzman nodded, retrieved the files and offering a final, knowing glance before saying his goodbyes. Once he was gone, you turned your attention to Professor Zimmerman as he began your daily lessons.

He didn’t ask you about the files. He knew better. This had been your request—when you were ready to talk about it, you would. But even as you tried to focus, your thoughts kept circling back, over and over.

An alpha had answered your song.

And now, you weren’t sure how you felt.

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jjkarmy091 · 6 hours ago

Text

The Boyfriend Game - Jungkook (part 2)

-> synopsis: You never thought that fighting for a position in JV's team would end up with you falling for the guy who was helping you out with it, especially since he had the same rule as you: no date, no romance, just socceer

> pairing: Soccer playerJungkook x (f) reader

> genre: romance, strangers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff

> word count: 10.230

JV practice Thursday was the worst practice I’d ever had. I was so nervous about my upcoming not-a-date date with Jungkook to watch the soccer game that I couldn’t concentrate. Of course, it didn’t help that Jennie had told Sana and they were both harassing me the entire practice about how cute Jungkook was and how much we liked each other and why didn’t I simply make a move. Even when I headed the ball into Jennie’s face, she didn’t shut up.

And then practice was over. Jennie and Sana forced me to blow dry my hair and put on makeup after practice. Then I was in the truck with Jungkook and his brother.

When I realized we were alone in his basement, with a pizza and a couple of sodas on the coffee table. I stood in the doorway, not quite able to make myself walk into the room. Jungkook stood in front of the couch, fiddling with the remote control. He was wearing jeans and boots, and he had a shirt on with a faded red oxford shirt, unbuttoned. His sleeves were rolled up to the point I coud see some of his tattoos and he looked casual, but cute.

Really, really cute.

It wasn’t just Sana and Jennie trying to convince me. He was a hottie, and I knew it. He finally found the soccer game, turned up the volume, and looked over at me, his eyebrows going up in surprise when he saw me still standing by the door.

“What are you doing over there?”

“Um, just hanging out.” He tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “Well it’s kind of a long game to hang over there the whole time.” He eased down onto the overstuffed denim cushions.

“Yeah, well, I’m comfortable.” Not that much but I didn’t know where to sit. Next to him? On the couch? No, it might make him think I liked him and he’d bail on me. In one of the armchairs? But it might make him think I liked him and was pretending not to and he’d bail on me. Stand, I’d stand. Then he could just think I was whacked and that would be much better.

He opened the pizza box and I watched the steam rise from the cheese and caught a whiff of the bread and the tomato sauce. He pulled a piece free and I watched the cheese stretch and stretch . . . then he slid his finger through the cheese and broke the strand and plopped the string of cheese on top of his slice. He set it down on a plate next to him on the coffee table and looked at me.

“I’m not bringing it over to you.” Oh, wow. He wanted me to sit next to him on the couch. Did that mean he liked me? Damn it Y/n, stop it! Of course not! Get a grip!

“Is this how you treat all your guests? Forcing them to eat at the table? So rude.” I managed to keep a light tone in my voice as I forced myself to walk into the room and I eased myself down onto the couch, a mere two feet from him. We were less than twenty-four inches apart! Oh, sure, we’d been much closer so many times on the soccer field, like when we were going one-on-one and bumping into each other and shoving ourselves off each other with our hands, but I’d never noticed it, at least not like I was noticing it now.

Jungkook served up a couple of pieces for himself, shut the lid, and turned up the volume. “I’m so psyched for this game. New England just traded for a new forward who’s awesome. Tonight’s his first start.”

“Super.” Obviously, Jungkook wasn’t feeling the same buzz from sitting so close to me. Stupid Jennie for making me think of him as a guy! I was so going to kill her when I saw her tomorrow.

I managed an awkward smile and grabbed my pizza. The tip of the slice dipped downward and a hunk of cheese slipped off the end before I could catch it. It landed with a splat on Jungkook’s foot. We both looked down as it slowly slid off the toe of his boot and down the side, coming to a peaceful stop wedged in the off white carpet fi bers of his basement rug. Yeah, I was such the graceful girly girl. Sigh.

“Want it back?” Jungkook asked. I giggled.

“No, you can have it.”

“Excellent. I was hoping to add a little carpet fuzz to my pizza.” He reached down and picked up the piece, inspected it for a minute, then popped it into his mouth.

“That’s so gross!” I burst out laughing as he proceeded to chew it, wrinkling his nose like he’d bitten into something horrid.

“You aren’t really going to eat that!” He swallowed, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Of course I ate it. It’s just carpet fuzz.” I laughed.

“You’re disgusting.” Then I sighed as I blew on my pizza before taking another bite. He so wasn’t making the moves on me. No guy trying to impress a girl would eat carpet-fuzz pizza. It was too gross. Like I’d want him to kiss me when he had just eaten dirt . . . Oh, wait. No, no no. There’s no way I’d just put “Jungkook” and “kiss me” in the same sentence- I was such an idiot! How could I be stupid enough to like him? Not like him, but like him? I mean, he hung out with me because I wasn’t into guys. It would be a total violation of our code of friendship if I started to like him!

I didn’t like him... Did I? I had to know. I subtly peeked at him. He was leaning forward, watching the television, his hair all spiky, his forearms resting on his thighs. He glanced at me, winked, and my belly jumped in response even though he turned right back to the television. No guy had ever made my belly flip before, not like that. There was no way to deny it.

I liked Jungkook. He let out a whoop and slapped his hands on his thighs.

“Did you see that play? We have got to practice that!” He turned to me and his smile slowly faded. All at once he had a really wary look on his face, almost like he was afraid of me. It was the same look I’d seen on his face when he’d seen Winter coming after him at the football game. I’d become another Winter. Shit!

“Y/n?” His voice was cautious and a little strained. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Oh, God, he could tell. How could he not? I’d been staring at him for, like, five minutes, thinking about him kissing me. Think of a reason, Y/n ! But all I could think about was how cute he looked with his brow all furrowed.

“Um . . .” He cleared his throat and stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be back in a minute.” Then he vaulted over the back of the couch and sprinted up the stairs, three at a time. It was the fastest I’d ever seen him move, all because he was running away from me. Argh! This was horrible! I yanked out my cell phone and dialed Sana. She answered on the first ring.

“How’s the date?”

“Horrible!” I filled her in on what happened, whispering as fast as I could, watching the stairs and listening for Jungkook to come back.

“What should Ido? He’s going to pull the plug on soccer, I know it!”

“Hang on.” I heard her and Jennie talking but their voices were muffled, like she’d covered the phone.

“Hurry up,” I hissed. Finally, Sana came back on.

“You have to go into Emergency Recovery Mode.”

“What’s that?”

“Give him a good reason for the strange look on your face, then talk soccer. Big time. Make him think he misread it. We’ll do damage control when we meet up tomorrow. Got it?”

The door to the basement opened and I slammed my phone shut and shoved it in my pocket. I wiped my palms on my jeans as Jungkook walked down the stairs, a whole lot slower than he’d gone up. God, this was so embarrassing. I took a deep breath, then flopped back on the couch.

“Did you bring ice?” He looked at me and paused on the stairs. “Ice? Why?”

“I burned the roof of my mouth on the cheese. It’s killing me.” I rolled my eyes.

“Sorry I wigged you out a second ago. I was trying to assess the damage to see whether I needed to go to the emergency room plus I was trying to figure out how to blame you for it. Not that it worked.” I forced a giggle.

“I’m the only idiot around here, and unless you’ve got ice, I think you need to call an ambulance.”

“My fault? Not even.” Some of the tension left his shoulders and he resumed walking toward me, hopping over the bottom step.

“The soda’s cold. Will that work?”

“Yeah, good idea.” I grabbed a can of Diet Coke and flicked it open. “So do you have paper and a pen? I want to take some notes tonight.” I took a gulp. He looked surprised.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?” I injected an impressive amount of excitement into my voice and set the can back on the table.

“I’m so pumped for this and I don’t want to miss anything.” I clenched my fists and didn’t have to fake my determination.

“I’m going to make varsity, Jungkook. No matter what.” He finally gave me a real smile.

“You bet you will.” I nodded.

“Now that we’ve both acknowledged how I’m always right, stop talking so I can concentrate on the game.” I rolled my eyes. “Boys just talk and talk, never shut up. How’s a girl supposed to watch a game, huh?” He laughed and leaned back against the couch and I could tell that things were right between us again. Or as right as they could be, given that I now realized I liked him, and I could never, ever, EVER admit that.

Next morning Jennie was checking her makeup in a compact, and Sana was munching on a bagel. They both jumped to their feet when they saw me climb out of my mom’s car. I’d been so miserable this morning that my mom had offered to drive me the short distance to school when she couldn’t convince me to tell her what was wrong. As if this were the kind of thing I was going to tell her!

“You look awful,” Jennie exclaimed as I walked up. “Are you sick?”

“No, but thanks for making me feel better.” I hadn’t slept all night, I was freaking out and I didn’t know what to do.

“Sit, sit.” Jennie shoved me onto the steps and opened her makeup bag. “You are in desperate need of concealer, my friend. You talk, I’ll fix.” It was too much effort to keep her off me so I gave in while Sana plopped herself next to me, munching away.

“So? What happened?”

“Look up,” my personal makeup artist ordered. I inspected the sky so Jennie could massage the concealer into the black pits beneath my eyes as I filled them in on how the evening had worked out. I kept my voice low, so all the kids fi ing into the school wouldn’t hear what I was talking about, not that they cared. It seemed like everyone else was loud and laughing and in a grand mood.

“So, that’s good, then, right?” Sana asked.

“No.”

“Why not? You got him back on track, right? You guys are back to the ‘we don’t notice the opposite sex’ thing and all?”

“She’s upset because she still likes him,” Jennie said. “Close your eyes.” I closed them, then winced as I felt something hard on my eyelid. “Tell me you’re not putting eyeliner on me.”

“Oh, shush. It’s about time you started wearing makeup. How else is Jungkook going to realize that he likes you?” My eyes snapped open, and Jennie nearly poked my eye out.

“Y/n! Don’t do that!”

“What did you just say about Jungkook liking me?”

Jennie set her hands on her hips. “Oh, you look great now,” she complained. “Nothing like a streak of eyeliner up into your eyebrow to make the boys fall for you.”

“Jennie!” I grabbed the eyeliner out of her hand and held it between my two fists. “I’m going to break this in half if you don’t tell me.”

“No! It’s my favorite!” She lunged for it and I jerked it out of her reach. “Talk, girl.”

“Fine.” She pulled out a hairbrush and ran it through her hair. “All I meant was that it’s obvious he likes you, but he just doesn’t realize it yet. You know, because he’s all anti girl and stuff, it’ll take time for him to realize it so by making you look like a girl maybe he’ll notice that you are one.”

She fluffed out her hair. “Clearly, having you make googly eyes at him is not the way to approach this.” She tossed the brush back in her make up bag, then held out her hand.

“Give the eyeliner back so I can finish making you look halfway decent.”

“Googly eyes?” I slapped the eyeliner back into her hand.

“I didn’t make googly eyes! I was spacing out! Big difference!”

“Not to a guy,” Jennie said. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I give you permission.” I did as she instructed and tried to calm down.

“Jungkook doesn’t like me.”

“Give it up, Y/n,” Sana said. “Jennie’s the guy expert. If she says he likes you, then he does.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to tell Jimin you like him,” I blurted out. I instantly felt bad, but I couldn’t take one more minute of them telling me Jungkook liked me when I knew he didn’t. I knew it down deep in that black lump of tar in my gut.

“Fine. Be that way,” Sana said.

I felt Jennie rubbing on my brow, no doubt trying to erase the random streaks across my face.

“So if you refuse my help in getting him to notice you’re a girl, what do you want from us?” she asked.

“It’s your fault I started liking him, because you both kept talking about how hot he was, so you have to undo it. Make me not like him.” That was the best plan I’d been able to come up with during my sleepless night. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from liking him, so it was their problem to fix. They didn’t reply, but I could hear them whispering.

“Hello? Didn’t you hear me? Fix it.” I wanted to open my eyes so badly because I had a feeling they were having a silent discussion, but I didn’t want to sit there at Jennie’s mercy any longer than I had to. No need to drag it out by forcing another misguided streak of eyeliner. “Guys?”

“All done.” I opened my eyes as Jennie stepped back. She grinned. “Nice.”

Anything that was “nice” to her meant I needed to find a mirror as soon as possible to make sure she hadn’t made me look like a clown. Sana stood up and moved next to Jennie, wrinkling her nose as she peered at me.

“Well, that was stupid.” Jennie and I both looked at her. “It doesn’t look good?” I knew it!

“You look amazing,” Sana said. I raised my brows at Jennie, and she shrugged.

“So why was that stupid?” Sana shot Jennie a look of pity. “Because you like Taehyung. You were just starting to make progress with him and now you go and make Y/n look even better than she does already?”

I immediately frowned. “I don’t want Taehyung. I don’t want any guys. I just want to play soccer!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sana said. “Tae won’t notice Jennie unless you’re out of the picture. Not with you looking like that.”

Jennie and I looked at each other and she shook her head. “No, because Y/n likes Jungkook. You’ll tell Tae tonight at Pop’s, won’t you? That you like Jungkook?”

“No way! What if it got back to Jungkook?” I got cold at the thought. “He’d stop practicing with me in a heartbeat.” And I needed him in my life for soccer, even if there was nothing else. Besides, as a friend, he made me feel good and I wasn’t willing to give that up.

To keep him as a friend, I would get over the fact I liked him. I shivered. Just thinking those words made me get all wigged out. I liked Jungkook... How stupid was I? Jennie’s mouth tightened and her eyes got cool.

“You won’t do it for me?”

“It’s not like that,” I said. “I just, well, if you’d seen the look on Jungkook’s face last night . . .” She held up her hand to silence me. “Forget it. I understand. You’ll put soccer over me, your best friend.” I jumped up.

“No, I’m not! This is your fault, anyway! If you hadn’t convinced me that I liked Jungkook and made him go all wacky on me last night, maybe I could pull off a lie to Taehyung and then explain to Jungkook I was saying I like him just to help you out, but you already messed that up and he’d never believe me, so it’s your fault I can’t do it! Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything to try to get Taehyung to like me, so don’t be mad at me!”

Sana cleared her throat and moved between us. “Okay, you guys, chill out.”

“I disinvite you tonight,” Jennie said. “Don’t come. You’ll just mess things up with me and him.”

“I don’t want to go, anyway! You think it’s fun for me to sit there and watch you making an idiot of yourself over him?” Sana winced.

“Y/n—”

“An idiot?” Jennie gasped. “I’m an idiot? What does that mean?”

“Because you get all flirty and ditzy and weird! Did you even consider that maybe the reason Taehyung likes me is because I’m normal around him? You fondle his coat and get all girly on him. Why don’t you try being normal? Maybe he’d like you then!”

Her face twisted. “I am normal!”

“Not when you’re around him” I said. “I don’t even like you when you’re like that. And neither does Sana.” Jennie sucked in her breath, her eyes wide with shock.

“What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” Sana interrupted. “We both love you.” she glared at me. “Take it back, Y/n.”

“Too late,” Jennie hissed. “I’m out of here.” Then she shoved her makeup kit in her backpack. “Don’t come tonight.” She turned away, ran up the steps and let the doors slam shut behind her.

I bit my lip and suddenly felt like crying. How had that happened? I hadn’t meant to say that, but it had slipped out. But she’d made me so mad! It was her fault I was in the mess with Jungkook ham and all she wanted to do was make it worse by having me start rumors that I was dating Jungkook.

Sana picked up her backpack, her face tight. “Well, now I have to go convince her that I don’t think she’s an idiot around him. How could you say that? Like she’s not already nervous enough around him, without you telling her that?”

“But it’s true. If she acts the way she normally does, Kirk might like her. I was just trying to help. . . .”

“Well, don’t try to help, then.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and ran into the school, leaving me out on the steps. I bit my lip and sat back down. I should go after them, but I didn’t dare. I was so upset, I had a feeling I would just make things worse. I mean, how else could I screw up things with the only people in my life I cared about?

This is why I liked soccer. It was about the ball. About sweat. Not about all this other stuff that was so confusing. I mean, I was just trying to get things right and now everyone was mad at me!

I sat there by myself, watching kids walk into the school, all chatting and happy, until the first bell rang and I had to go in. By the time I started up the stairs I’d realized that due to Jennie and Sana being mad at me and Jungkook being afraid of me for the first time ever, I didn’t want to go to soccer practice this afternoon. And that was the worst part of all.

That evening, at seven o’clock, I was sitting on our family room couch, wrapped up in a pink bunny comforter I’d found at the bottom of my closet. I’d left my soccer ball one on my bed. After my terrible practice, with Jennie refusing to talk to me and Sana being all uncomfortable between us, I’d wanted nothing more to do with soccer so I told Jungkook I was feeling sick and I bailed.

Although he’d expressed a little concern that I wasn’t permanently disabled from my bout with the pizza cheese, he hadn’t seemed particularly bummed that I was ditching soccer with him, which made me feel worse, so I’d come home, taken a package of Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies out of the kitchen cabinet, and settled on the couch with my remote at five o’clock. And now, two hours later, I still wasn’t feeling any better.

“Y/n?” I muted That ’70s Show and looked up at my mom.

“You need me to set the table?”

“No, actually, I wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” I sighed and tossed the remote on my lap.

“It’s about Dad, right? You’re worried that I’m going to develop some sort of complex because he never keeps our Friday night date?” I thought of Jungkook’s explanation about my dad just being busy, and felt better about my dad, and worse because it made me think of him.

“I’m fine with it.” My mom was still wearing her gray pantsuit from work at the law firm, but that didn’t stop her from climbing onto the couch with me and sliding under the comforter, like we used to do before I got too busy with soccer and she got too busy doing the single mom thing.

“What’chya watching?” she asked.

“Reruns.”

“Fun way to spend a Friday night.” I snorted.

“Yeah, wicked fun.” She put her arm around me and pulled me next to her.

“So, if it’s not fun, why aren’t you doing something more fun? I haven’t seen much of Jennie and Sana lately.” I bit my lip and said nothing. What was there to say?

Instead, I snuggled against her and rested my head on her shoulder. I know, totally babyish, but I couldn’t help it. I needed my mom right then. I needed someone who wasn’t mad at me.

“How’s the extra practice going? Is your game improving?” My throat tightened up.

“I guess.” She was quiet for a moment, drumming her fingers on the top of my head.

“So, how was the game last night? With Jungkook?”

“I burned the roof of my mouth and accidentally dropped pizza on his carpet.” I felt her smile.

“Well done, Y/n. There’s nothing like making a mess to impress a guy.”

“But I wasn’t trying to impress him!” I wailed. “I don’t want to like him! I just want it to be like it used to be, before Jennie messed everything up!”

“How did she mess everything up?” Her voice was so calm that I couldn’t hold back anymore, and the whole story came pouring out. Everything.

“So now Jennie and Sana hate me and I can’t go to Pop’s with them tonight, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, but I can’t and—” I paused to blow my nose in the fiftieth tissue I’d used since I started talking. “And I didn’t even go to practice and he didn’t even care!” I started to cry again and my mom hugged me.

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong. . . .” I pushed off her and blew my nose again. “But Jennie’s still mad. It’s not my fault Taeyung likes me.” She smiled and fl uffed my bangs.

“True, but that doesn’t make it any easier for her.”

“She should get over it, shouldn’t she? Apologize?”

“First I have a question for you.” I sat up and wrinkled my nose at her. “I’m not going to like it, am I?” She smiled. “You feel bad because you like Jungkook and he doesn’t like you back, right?” I picked a fuzz ball off my faded comforter.

“Maybe.”

“So, that’s how she feels with Taehyung. She likes him, but he doesn’t like her back. She feels exactly like you feel with Jungkook, except it’s worse because her best friend is the reason he won’t like her.” She cocked her head.

“How would you feel if you found out that Jungkook liked Sana?”

“I’d hate her.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I made a face. But my mom just smiled.

“See how she feels now?”I guess I did.

“But if I go in there and tell Taehyung I like Jungkook, then . . .” She shook her head.

“No, don’t do that. Just go in there tonight and tell him the truth. That you’re not interested in him as a guy.”

“But I already told him that. . . .”

“Make him understand you mean it.” I groaned.

“How? He’s totally thick.” She played with my hair.

“Maybe tell him to look in Jennie’s direction. Couldn’t hurt, right? And then you could coach her on how to be herself when she’s around him.” I wrinkled my nose.

“Why should I? She ruined my life by making me like Jungkook.” My mom arched an eyebrow. “I think you did that all by yourself Y/n. And only you can fix it.”

“Tell me how and I’ll do it.” Anything to stop me from liking him and screwing up the one good thing in my life.

“Find someone else to like.”

“Mom!” I wailed. “But I don’t want to like boys!” She smiled and ruffl ed my hair.

“Oh, kiddo, I think it’s too late for that. You’re in the ball game now. It’s up to you to take control.” I pulled the comforter over my face.

“I can’t.” She pulled it back down.

“At the very least, you can get your fanny over to Pop’s and help her out. She’s your friend, and you should never let a boy come between you and your friends. Girls have to stick together. It’s the only way to survive boys.”

“What if Jungkook’s there? He might be there on a Friday night. What am I supposed to do then?” She smiled and flipped the comforter off both of us, then stood up.

“You’ll talk soccer and let the rest go. Be yourself. Things will work out.” I frowned at her.

“Things will work out? That’s all the advice you have?”

“It’s great advice.” She laughed. “Now get up and let’s go fi nd something for you to wear that’ll knock Junkook’s socks off if he happens to be there.”

“But I don’t want to knock his socks off! And that’s a totally lame expression, by the way.” But a little part of me liked the idea. I mean, would it be so bad if he thought I was cute? If he noticed that I cleaned up okay?

“All the more reason to do it.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me to my feet.

“There’s a reason I always look nice when I go to work.” I kept a scowl on my face while she hustled me upstairs.

“Because you’ll get fi red if you look like a slob?”

“Because, my little grouch, it makes me feel better on the inside if I like how I look on the outside.” She gently shoved me into the bathroom. “Get in there, wash your hair, and I’ll pick out some clothes. We’re going to make you look like the girl you are, underneath all that sweat and dirt.”

“I like dirt,” I protested, even as I tugged my sweatshirt over my head

“Of course you do. And you’re welcome to roll around in the yard after we finish cleaning you up.” My mom pulled the door shut.

“Promise?” I turned on the shower and shucked the rest of my clothes. “Because I will, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” she called out from the direction of my bedroom, where I could hear her pulling open my drawers, looking for my outfit for the night. I grinned. My mom always looked awesome, and if she got on my ase for tonight . Well . . . I almost hoped Jungkook would be there.

At seven fifty five my mom was done with my makeover. We stood next to each other and studied my outfit in my bedroom mirror. Low-rider jeans, uggs and a V neck top that was sort of fitted. Not tight but not hugely baggy, either. I’d bought the shirt a year ago when I was out with Jennie and Sana and I’d never worn it. It was simply too girly.

I’d bought it only because they’d made me, but my mom insisted, and she’d done my hair and my makeup and even let me borrow her diamond pendant. She smiled as she tucked a strategically dangling ten-dril of hair behind my ear.

“I must say, I’m very impressed with myself.”

“I’m going to go roll in the dirt as soon as I’m outside.” My heart thudded as I inspected myself. For the first time in my life, I looked like a girl. And you know what? I loved it. I absolutely adored how I looked. My mom’s smile widened.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I can’t go into Pop’s like this.” I took a deep breath and tried to slow my racing heart. God, could I really do this? Walk in there looking so . . . female?

“Sure you can. You’ll have a blast.” She held out a little navy purse with embroidery on it. “Just bought this. You can use it.” It looked just like the purse Miley Cyrus was carrying in the latest issue of Teen People. I grabbed it from my mom.

“You’re the best!”

“I know.” She hugged me, and we were both careful not to mess up my outfit. “Go have fun, okay? Just make sure that you help out Jennie too.” I nodded, still looking at myself in the mirror.

My new haircut looked great, with the layers falling over my face and the highlights shining in the light.

“Ah, my little girl.” My mom brushed my cheek with the back of her hand. “How did you get so smart?” I stood taller.

“I’m not your little girl.” She cocked her head.

“No, I suppose you’re not.” For a oment, she almost looked sad, then she cleared her throat. “Do you want a ride?”

“And have my mom drop me off?” I teased. “No way. I’ll walk.” She nodded, her eyes bright.

“I figured you would. Keep your phone on, in case I need to reach you.”

“Always.” That was the condition of the phone, and I wasn’t about to blow it. “I’m out of here.” I hesitated, then threw my arms around her. “Thanks, Mom!”

“Anytime, sweets.” Then I let go of her and ran down the stairs. To go to Pop’s. Looking like a girl for the first time ever.

I walked into Pop’s at ten after eight and nearly turned around and walked right back out when I saw how many kids were there. The place was packed, music was roaring, and there didn’t seem to be an empty seat. So many kids I knew, so many I didn’t.

There were tables of girls giggling and laughing, tables of guys being loud, and tables of girls and guys hanging out. I suddenly felt completely out of my comfort zone. I hadn’t been to Pop’s on a Friday night in ages and now I remembered why. This wasn’t my scene.

At all.

Especially without Jennie and Sana to back me. Where were they? I looked around but didn’t see them. If they weren’t here, I was so going to leave. . .

“Y/n!” I jerked my gaze to the right, and saw Taehyung waving at me. He had one of the big booths by the window, by himself. Relief surged through me at the sight of someone I knew, even if it was Kim Taehyung. I pushed my way through the throng of kids.

“Hey.” He grinned as I slid in opposite him. “I got here early to snag a table.” His gaze went to my hair and I suddenly got nervous.

“Hi.” I fiddled with a few strands, wishing I’d put it in a ponytail. What had I been thinking letting my mom blow it dry?

“You look cute.” He sounded surprised. I frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was he making fun of me? He shook his head once, his gaze traveling over my face, my outfit, and even my purse.

“I just . . . I mean . . . you don’t look like you normally do.”I folded my arms across my chest.

“So?”

“So, I like it.”

I studied his face for a long moment, but his gaze was steady. I realized that he meant it. I really did look okay. My body relaxed and I leaned back.

“Well, then, I guess, thanks.” He nodded.

“I’m going to get a drink. Hold the table?”

“Sure.” I cleared my throat. “So, um, are Jennie and Sana coming, or what?”

“Yeah.” He slid out of the booth to his feet, his gaze flicking to my hair again. He shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “So, you want something to drink?” I grinned at his reaction.

“Diet Coke. Get a pitcher.That’s what Jennie and Sana drink too.” Jennie. . . I needed to deal with that. I mean, I should tell him now that she likes him.

“Um, Taehyung, about Jennie...” Suddenly I lost my train of thought when I noticed Jungkook walking toward us, carrying a couple of drinks.

He glanced at me and his eyes passed over me, then his gaze snapped back to my face, his eyebrows nearly shooting off his forehead.

“What about her?” Taehyung prompted. I waved him off.

“I’ll tell you later. I’m really thirsty. Go get me something to drink. Please,” I added. He shrugged and headed to the counter, giving Jungkook a second look as he walked by him, like he was trying to place him. Be cool, Y/n. It’s all about the sports.

Jungkook headed straight toward my table, his gaze pinned to my face. I held my breath and sat straighter as he approached. I could totally handle this. Really. Jungkook paused at my table, his eyes scanning my outfi t like crazy.

“Hey,” he said. He was wearing baggy jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black tee shirt, and a black leather jacket. Um, hello? Hottie alert. Since when did he own a leather jacket?

“Hey, yourself.” I shifted in my seat and clenched my hands under the table, where he couldn’t see them.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling better. I crashed when I got home for a few hours. But I’m really wigging that I missed practice. I’m going to head over to the school in the morning to drill. You in?” His gaze flicked to my diamond pendant.

“Um, I don’t know. . . .” I shrugged. “Whatever. Just thought I’d throw it out there. I was going to practice some of those moves we were talking about last night, during the game.” Talk soccer. Talk soccer.

A fresh light came into his eyes and he slid opposite me. “Which ones?” Caught a whiff. He smelled good. I refused to notice.

“That offensive move where the guy faked out the defender when he . . .”

“Right.” He nodded. “That was slick. And the one right at the end of the game where he passed the ball . . .”

“Well, duh, of course that one.” We’d talked about that play for at least ten minutes. “So, that’s cool if you’re not into it, but I was thinking I’d ask Jennie and Sana to help me, if you can’t make it.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“What time?”

“Ten?” I smirked at him. “I suppose that’s too early for an old guy like you.” His eyebrows went up.

“Old? I’m a year older than you.”

“I know. You got any gray hair yet?” I reached over and pretended to pluck one from his head. “Got one.”

He grabbed my wrist and tugged my hand away from his head. “Cut it out, you crazy chick.” But he was laughing, looking at me the way he always did. He tightened his grip around my wrist as I tried to get it free. “Fine. I’ll practice tomorrow. I can’t leave you on your own, you’re too dangerous to yourself.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he leaned forward to peer at it. “Looks like the burns are healing well. No need for emergency tongue surgery.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Me?”

“You bought the pizza, so it’s your fault.” I giggled as he tried to put on an offended face.

“Oh, give it up, Jungkook. You’re so not innocent. . . .” Someone cleared their throat and we both looked up.

Taehyung was standing there frowning at our hands. We followed his gaze, realizing at the same time that Jungkook still had his hand wrapped around my wrist. We jerked our hands back, and he slid out of the booth, his face suddenly wary again.

Oh, great. Back to that already? He’d been the one holding on to me!

“Okay, so, see you later, Y/n,” Jungkook said. He nodded at Taehyung. “Later.” He grabbed his drinks and bolted.

I tried to watch where he went, but Taehyung moved into my line of vision as he sat down, so I craned my neck to see around him, relocating Jungkook just in time to see him sit down at a table full of guys at the back. No, wait. It wasn’t just guys, there were girls too.

I sat up straighter, my heart starting to pound. Did that blond hair belong to Winter? Was he at Pop’s with her? I clenched my fists as I saw her turn to the side so I could see her profile. Yep. It was Winter and she had her hand on Jungkook’s arm. And he wasn’t bolting!

What was up with that?

Since when did he like girly girls? Did he actually like them and he was just pretending to hate them as a reason not to like me? Was it me then, that he didn’t want that kind of relationship with?

I felt sick. Totally sick.

“Y/n?” I dragged my gaze off the train wreck at the back of the room and looked at the person in front of me.

“What?”

“You okay? You look kinda strange.” I took a deep breath, which was totally shaky.

“I’m fine.” He slid the pitcher and a glass of ice toward me.

That’s the guy from the football game, right?”

“Uh-huh.” I tipped the glass and managed to pour the soda without spilling it all over the table. Was Jungkook still there with Winter? Was his arm around her? Was he looking at me? I wanted to know. I had to know, however refused to turn around.

“So, um, he keeps looking over here,” Taehyung said.

“Really?” I grinned, but I didn’t look at Jungkook. No way was he going to catch me looking at him. Taehyung leaned back in his seat.

“So you said you guys weren’t dating, but that’s not true, is it?” I snorted. “Oh, it’s true.” I took a long drink of soda and eyed the window we were sitting next to, trying to see if I could see Jungkook in the reflection. Was that his table? Yes, yes, it was! Right on!

Then my gut sank. Was his arm really around the back of Winter’s chair? It couldn’t be! Must be a distortion from the reflection. I looked at Taehyung.

“Is his arm around the back of that girl’s chair?” He looked at me for a long moment then he turned in Jungkook’s direction.

“Yeah, it is.” I pressed my lips together and tightened my grip on my cup.

“So, that’s how it is.” He sounded resigned. I stared at the little bubbles on the surface of my soda, watching each one pop. You will not look at Jungkook.

“How what is?”

“You have a crush on him.” I jerked my gaze to Taehyung. “What? No way! Hah. That’s totally stupid!” He lifted his brows. I lifted mine right back. For a minute, we had an unspoken eyebrow lifting contest, then I grinned.

“You win. I’m getting a headache.” He smiled and let his brows drop down. “So you really meant it on the field that day when you said you weren’t into me?” I shrugged.

“Huh.” He shifted in his seat.

“So, maybe I should hit the road, then. Before the others get here.” He started to slide out of the seat and I grabbed his wrist.

“Wait!”

“Y/n—”

“What do you think of Jennie?” He looked at me blankly. “Jennie? She’s nice, I guess.”

“But is she cute?” His forehead wrinkled slightly.

“Well, yeah. Of course.” Oh, she was so going to kill me for this, I knew.

“She really likes you.” He stared at me, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“See, that’s one reason why I never thought of you as a guy. I couldn’t! She’s liked you forever and I’d never do that to her.” He leaned back in his seat with a thump, staring at me.

“You’re kidding. Jennie? But she’s such a flirt. I didn’t think she meant anything by it. . . .”

“She’s that way only with you.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Tae, give her a chance. She’s actually really normal, she just wigs around you because she likes you.”

“Wow.” He rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “Wow.” I leaned forward.

“So? Do you like her, then?” On second thought, she wasn’t going to kill me. She was going to love me forever for this one. He grimaced ever so slightly.

“She’s not really my type, you know?” Oh, no.

“But she’s cute and friendly. . . .”

“Does she ever sweat?” He rolled his eyes. “That’s why I like you, Y/n, you’re cool. You’re into sports. I dig that.”

“But you’re not into sports. All you do after school is hang out at my practice. That’s why I can’t like you. I can’t be with a guy who’s less of an athlete than I am.” He shot me a cocky grin, his eyes suddenly sparkling.

“Before you judge me, you might ask me if I play any sports.” I frowned.

“Do you play any sports?”

“Ice hockey.” Surprise made my mouth drop open.

“You do? When?” He pulled the straw out of his drink and began to twist it around his finger .

“Well, as you probably know, our school doesn’t have ice hockey, so I play in a private league year round. We have ice time at five A.M. every day, and play games on Sunday afternoons.”

“Really?” I leaned forward, interested in what he had to say for the first time ever. “Are you good?” He shrugged.

“I’m okay.”

“Which means either that you’re terrible or that you’re great and you’re too humble to admit it.” I cocked my head.

“Knowing you, I tend to doubt the humble thing, so you must not be very good. . . .” He grinned.

“Actually, I went to Canada last winter to play in some tournaments over the Christmas holiday.”

“Really?” I drummed my finngers on the table, feeling like I was looking at him for the fi rst time ever. His eyes were sort of a dark green and his eyelashes were long. Interesting.

“That’s so cool. I had no idea. I thought you were just this guy with nothing going on in his life other than torturing me.” His smile got a little strained.

“I torture you?”

“Well, yeah, usually. Right now, you’re almost tolerable, though.” I sat up, wrapping my hands around my drink.

“So, tell me about Canada. Did you play Canadian teams or was it tournaments, or what?”

“You really want to know?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Most girls don’t really want to hear about hockey.”

“I do.” I leaned my elbows on the table and propped my chin up in my hands.

“I think it sounds awesome. I’d love to be good enough to play in other countries. That’s my goal, you know. To be able to play college soccer, then go international. But you’re already doing it.” I sighed, gazing at him. “That’s so cool. How long have you been skating?” A genuine smile softened his face and he shoved his drink out of the wayand leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. “Well, I started when I was six. . . .”

Twenty minutes later, we were deep in conversation about sports when Taehyung suddenly stopped talking and looked at me. Uh-oh. Did I have mascara on my eyelid or something?

“What?”

“You want to go on a date sometime? A real date?”

Oh, wow. I sat back and looked at him. I mean, I was having a blast talking to him and he was cute and everything, but, well . . . he wasn’t Jungkook. He leaned forward.

“I mean, we’re having fun, right? Getting along?”

“Yeah.” And we were. I should like him. I should. There was nothing wrong with him.

“So, let’s try it.”

“Well . . .” No. I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t want to. I was simply too into Jungkook and going on a date with him wouldn’t fix it. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Jennie even if I did like him.

“Y/n?” I cringed and looked up. Jennie was standing right next to the table, a look of disbelieving horror on her face.

“Jennie! Taehyung and I were just talking about you. . . .”

“Yeah, I heard. Was that before or after you told him how cool he was for being a hockey player? Before or after he asked you out on a date?” Her voice was cold and I saw Taehyung’s eyes widen. Sana stood behind her, looking way uncomfortable.

“Um, so, what’s up, guys?” Her gaze darted around the room. “Is . . . Jimin here?”

“He’s coming,” Taehyung said, still staring at Jennie who looked like she was about to explode. There was a definite thoughtful gleam to his eye, the kind a guy gets when he’s just been told that a girl is in love with him, like, “Oh, here is one of my adoring fans.”

“Come to the bathroom with me. We need to talk,” I said, trying to catch her eye.

“No. Way.” Her eyes flashed with anger. I’d never seen her so mad. “You just lost me as a friend, Y/n. I will kick your butt on the soccer field next week and you are so going down.” She spun around. “Come on Sana.” She shot me an apologetic look.

“Call me later,” she mouthed. “We’ll talk.” And then she hurried after Jennie.

Shit.

I dove out of the booth and grabbed Jennie’s arm.

“Wait!” She whirled to face me.

“How could you do that? How could you go for him? You know I like him!”

“I didn’t go for him!” I lowered my voice, knowing Taehyung was only a few feet away, but the place was so loud that I prayed he wouldn’t be able to hear me. “I told him you liked him!”

“What?” She screeched. Taehyung could totally hear that.

“How could you do that? I’ll never be able to look at him again!”

“But, I thought that’s what you wanted me to do. . . .”

“Forget it, Y/n. You are so history.” She pointed at me. “Don’t you dare follow me or I swear I will climb up on that table and scream to everyone that you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook” I dropped her arm and sucked in my breath.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh. I would. And for your information, Jungkook is outside right now, kissing Winter.” I recoiled in horror, my hand going to my mouth.

“What?” She leaned into my space and glared at me.

“Stay out of my life, Y/n and prepare yourself to kiss your spot on varsity goodbye. You take what I want, and I’ll take what you want.” And then she was gone, Sana running after her.

I didn’t dare follow her, not with that threat, but she had to be lying. Jungkook would never kiss Winter. Never! But when I looked back at his table,he wasn’t there. And neither was Winter. Oh, God. Had Jennie been telling the truth?

My stomach churned and I sank back onto the seat across from Taehyung. He eyed me, looking way too amused by the whole situation. Why wouldn’t he? Two girls in a screaming fight over him? Of course he’d think it was hilarious. I glared at him and all he did was smile.

“So, I’m thinking that you and me on a date . . . not a great idea, huh Y/n?”

“Gee, you think?” His smile widened.

“So, about Jennie. . .”

“What?” I snapped. I had to get home, this night was a disaster.

“I had no idea she could yell like that. It was a good threat, too. Think she can pull it off?” I stared at him.

“You like her now because she yelled at me?” He shrugged, still looking way too happy.

“I didn’t realize she had it in her. Is she really going to kick your butt on the soccer field?” How could he sound so cheerful? I stuck my tongue out at him and left. I’d had enough.

Jennie’s threat kept hanging over me like a bad grade. If she really decided to bust her butt on the soccer field, I was in such trouble, especially since I already had one bad try out. No I had to forget Jennie, she was going down.

I was already drenched in sweat by the time Jungkook arrived a little after ten. I was burning my way through some drills and I had my back toward that side of the field but I suddenly knew he was there. It was like my bones got all tingly and my pulse jacked up.

He said nothing and I didn’t turn around. All I could think about was him with Winter. Had he left with her? Why had he let her put her hand on his arm? Was all his anti girl sentiment actually a lie? Was it just me he didn’t like? Had he really kissed her? Gosh, so many questions to so littleanswers.

Scowling, I slammed the ball at the net. It careened over the top of it and sailed into the next field.

“Nice shot.” Was he sarcastic with Winter too or was I the only lucky one?

“Thanks,” I snapped, jogging after my ball to retrieve it. I picked it up and turned around, almost stopping at the sight of him. He was wearing navy sweats and a fleece against the brisk morning air and he was wearing a baseball cap on backward. So casual, so cute. So unfair.

“So, want to do some passing drills this morning, then?” he asked not even giving me the slightest inspection.

“Yeah.” I walked up and dropped the ball at his feet. “Sounds good.” He cocked his head.

“Good morning to you, Ms. Cranky.”

“Good morning to you.” I ignored the remark about my mood, because, well, he was right. I was being a grouch and it wasn’t like I was going to tell him the reason. What was I supposed to say? Ask him whether he was dating Winter?

“Are you dating Winter?” Oh shit! How had that slipped out? Jungkook looked startled.

“Winter? You’re kidding, right?” I grabbed the ball with my toe and headed away from him to start the passing drill.

“You were there with her. She was all over you and you didn’t seem to mind.” I kicked him the ball and started running down the field.

“All over me?” He slammed the ball and I had to sprint to catch it before it sailed past me.

“She and her friend had a table and they let us join them when there were no other open ones. Not a big deal.” I cut in front of him and he passed me the ball as he split in the other direction.

“Well she had her hand on your arm. What’s up with that?” I kicked the ball ahead of him and felt a mild sense of satisfaction when he grunted and dug in to try to catch up to it.

“I don’t even remember. What’s it matter to you?” He was breathing heavily as he dribbled the ball a few feet, waiting for me to move into position.

“It doesn’t matter except Taehyung was convinced you and I were dating, even when I denied it.” I ran across the field and nodded for the pass. “So when he saw you and Winter getting it on he thought I was all pathetic because you were hanging with her in front of me.”

Not quite the truth, but close enough if he wanted to hear what I was really saying. Jungkook smashed the ball at me and I had to head it to keep it from sailing past me out of bounds.

“Sorry,” he muttered, blocking the ball and trying a much more controlled pass right to me. “Winter asked if you and I were a couple.” My cleat caught in the turf and I almost went down.

“What? ” I regained my balance and dribbled a couple of yards while Jungkook sprinted toward the goal. “You and I? As if!” I lifted the ball up toward Jungkook’s face.

“Did you kiss her?” He scowled and headed the ball into the upper right corner of the net. Then he spun toward me, his hands on his hips.

“Did you just ask me if I kissed her?” I eased to a stop in front of him.

“Did you?” His cheeks turned red and my gut tightened in dismay. Was that a guilty look?

“Jungkook! Why didn’t you tell me you were dating her? I thought we were all bonding over our ‘we aren’t into the dating scene’ thing, and then I find out that you’re dating her?”

“I didn’t lie to you,” he protested. “I said I wasn’t dating her and I’m not. I’m not dating anyone.”

“But did you kiss her?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I thought you were my friend and friends don’t lie to each other. I trusted you because I thought you were like me, not into dating. We made fun of people who got stupid around the opposite sex. Was all that a lie too?”

“No! I’m not dating her!” I folded my arms over my chest, well aware that he was avoiding the bigger question.

“Did you kiss her?” He turned away to go retrieve the soccer ball that was still sitting in the back of the goal.

“She kissed me when we left,” he muttered. “It was nothing. Friends. I didn’t kiss her back.”

“Friends?” Oh, God! My stomach was killing me and I felt this weird buzzing in my ears. “You don’t kiss someone that you’re only friends with! What kind of stupid comment is that?” He grabbed the ball and spun toward me, a scowl on his face.

“It’s not the same kind of kiss, trust me.”

“Was it on the lips?” His cheeks got even redder.

“That’s not the point.”

“It is the point.” I marched up to him and poked him in the chest. “If you kiss a girl on the lips, it’s not a friends kiss. It’s a dating kiss.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Of course it does!” His eyes narrowed and I realized I’d gone too far, riding him over Winter. Come on, Y/n, get it together!

Then he suddenly dropped the ball, set his hand o on my shoulders and pulled me toward him. Before I even knew what he was doing, he bent his head and kissed me.

On the lips.

Fuck

His lips were soft and warm and he tasted like mint toothpaste and my belly jumped like a mile. His fingers tightened on my shoulders and I instinctively grabbed his wrists as he kissed me again, so gently, so soft, so perfect.

He tilted his head, his breath hot against my lips. A chill shot down my spine and I kissed him back. This was how a kiss was supposed to be. It was amazing and perfect and awesome and I would never, ever, ever forget this moment. Then suddenly he froze and his lips stopped moving, so I froze too.

He broke the kiss and looked down at me, his hands still gripping my shoulders, his eyes all dark and intense. I stared at him, my lips tingling and my body all freaking out. He cleared his throat.

“See?” I wet my lips trying to get my brain working again.

“See what?” That you like me? That that was the best kiss in the history of the world? He took a breath. Then another one.

“A guy and a girl can kiss on the lips and it can be a friends kiss.” I blinked as his words sank in.

“A friends kiss?”

“Yeah.” He dropped his hands from my shoulders and sort of shook out his shoulders. “See? We kissed. It meant nothing, because we’re just friends.” He sent me a sideways glance. “Right?”

Depression settled like a black cloud in my mind as I realized what he meant. The kiss had meant nothing. He’d kissed me to prove a point. To win an argument. But it had been so perfect! How could it have meant nothing? It had been my first kiss! First kisses were supposed to be perfect! They weren’t supposed to mean nothing!

“So?” His voice sounded a little ragged. “You take back your comment about Winter now?”I gaped at him, struggling to get my mind together.Should I kick him in the shin? Cry? Leave?

“You have no right to kiss me!” He frowned.

“It wasn’t that kind of kiss. It was just a kiss.” Just a kiss. This was horrible! He was so not into me that he’d kissed me, I mean he really kissed me and he obviously hadn’t felt even the faintest spark of anything.

He wasn’t into me.

My throat tightened up and my eyes suddenly got all watery. Fuck I wasn’t going to let him make me cry! I jerked free of him and spun away, blinking as hard as I could.

“So, yeah, so Jennie is going to try to beat me out at varsity so I have to, um, practice, really hard this week, because, you know, I don’t want to, like, not make it, you know?” The ball was blurry, but I grabbed it and started heading back up the field. “So, um, I think, like, yeah, maybe- run that drill another time?”

When he didn’t answer, I turned around. He was standing where I’d left him, the strangest look on his face as he stared after me.

“What?” I snapped.

“The friends thing,” he said. “You buy it now?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. That kiss makes it clear. No magic. Whatever. Can we practice now?” For a long moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer, then he nodded and seemed to kick into gear again.

“Sure. Let’s do it.” He jogged past me, flicked my ponytail and kept running. Great, we were back to the ponytail flicking relationship. It was the perfect foundation for another week of practice.

But as I squared up with the ball, I began to seriously doubt whether I could take another week of practice with him, even for the sake of varsity.

Because I just couldn’t get that kiss out of my mind.

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