#Night Vision Driving Glasses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etherrreal · 2 months

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"an inconvenient attachment"

Pairing: sae x fem!reader Genre: fluff with smut, fwb to lovers, minors dni! Summary: what you and sae have is completely casual— or at least it’s supposed to be. he’s fine with it at first, until he starts to realize how much he actually likes being around you. now he’s starting to wonder if casual is enough. WC: 20k+ (haha, i’m in danger) Warnings: nsfw, some pwp (mostly plot though), alcohol, casual/no strings sex (until it isn’t 😉), car sex, fingering, light choking, reader and sae are in their mid-20s, reader is also incredibly forward and kind of shameless lmao, pro!athlete sae, big time jealousy, misunderstandings, lots of pining but also lots of denial, sae being annoying and bad at feelings but also very much into you A/N: watched bluelock for the first time this past year and immediately fell victim to the itoshi brothers. consider this an ode to my suffering <3 -Dawn

Sae doesn’t really know what the two of you are to each other.

He knows you hate driving in the rain and love reading at the park, just like he knows how you take your coffee and what your voice sounds like when you first wake up in the morning, all sleepy and soft.

He also knows what you look like tangled in the sheets of his bed, just like he knows how to make you fall apart with his mouth and hands and tongue. He takes pleasure in leaving you bleary-eyed and breathless, in watching you grip at his sheets and drag your nails across his skin as you say his name again and again.

But when it comes to your current relationship, to what the two of you actually mean to each other? Sae has no idea. You’ve never bothered to put a label on it. He figures you’ve never felt the need to, even though normally you’re the kind of person who labels everything, from the colorful tabs in your planner to the glass containers in your pantry.

Not that Sae has any room to judge. He hasn’t made much of an effort to define things between you, either. He’s not one for titles or attachments, least of all romantic ones. He never has been, and that’s something he made clear to you from the beginning, long before the two of you ever shared a bed and started whatever the hell this thing is that exists between you now.

If he’s being honest, Sae didn’t really think much of you at first. He remembers meeting you, completely against his will, at a party he never wanted to attend in the first place, one that his teammates insisted on dragging him to.

In the beginning, you were just another face in the crowd, the best friend of Aina, Oliver’s notorious on-again, off-again girlfriend.

Sae never planned on seeing you again, much less actually getting to know you. In fact, he was fully content to forget you completely, but he couldn’t. And it wasn’t because he had a change of heart or because he was particularly interested in you, but because you made it practically impossible to ignore you.

You, with your ridiculous laugh and your know-it-all demeanor and your unreasonably animated way of talking. It’s no surprise that you were an instant hit amongst his teammates. They all took to you right away, captivated by your quick comebacks and witty humor, by your easy confidence and natural charm.

And though Sae will never say it out loud, he could admit, even back then, that he understood the appeal, at least in a general sense. You’re smart and funny, not to mention daring and lively, with the kind of effortless charisma that makes everyone want to be around you.

You laugh at his dry humor and unapologetic bluntness, but you also don’t hesitate to call him out when he’s being a dick. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re completely gorgeous, either, a vision in smooth satin and shimmery lip gloss whenever he sees you on nights when his teammates actually manage to bully him out of his apartment.

Soon you’re everywhere, laughing during game nights at Oliver’s place and rolling your eyes in the background of Shidou’s Instagram stories. Sae doesn’t accept their invitations to go out too often, but when he does, you’re always there, just as much a part of the group as everyone else is— even more than Sae is, most of the time.

You cheer him and the rest of the team on at games, send him new recipes to try and stupid videos he only sometimes replies to.

And inconveniently, inevitably, you start to grow on him.

Then one night, against his better judgment, he offers to drive you home from the bar, and to his surprise, you accept.

Sae’s not entirely sure why he does it. After all, it’s unlike him to inconvenience himself or go out of his way for the sake of others. But then he remembers the cheeky way you were acting with him earlier and decides it’s worth it, if only to see what you’ll do.

There’s always been a certain kind of tension between you and Sae, an unspoken chemistry neither of you has ever been able to replicate with anyone else. He’s never acted on it, of course. He’s never felt the need to, until now.

You’ve been flirting with him even more than usual tonight, brushing your hand against his arm and leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Sae has always appreciated how forward you are, how honest. You’re the kind of person who always speaks your mind, who never hesitates to go after what you want. It’s part of what makes him respect you so much.

It’s also why he doesn’t bother to stop you. Why he doesn’t push you away from him, no matter how close you get or how bold your hands become. It does something to him, he realizes, having you touch him so casually. Makes him possessive in a way he never expected he’d be over anyone, least of all you.

Still, he doesn’t take it as anything more than what it is. You’re always like this, all playful and coy, especially after you've had a shot or two. He knows better than to think it means anything. He takes it upon himself to drive you home anyway, the idea of you being so casual and touchy with any of his other teammates leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

You look unfairly beautiful sitting in the passenger seat of his car, all smooth skin and smokey eyes, jacket sliding halfway off your shoulders as you wave your hands around and tell a story he’s only half-listening to. You’re absolutely stunning and therefore annoyingly distracting, not that he’ll ever grant you the satisfaction of telling you that himself.

The lot behind your building is quiet when he pulls his car in, empty. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him for driving you home, but make no move to leave.

Sae notices but doesn’t call you out on it, dismissing your gratitude with his usual impassiveness. He also doesn’t stop you when you reach out to touch him. Your fingers brush against his collar, smoothing over the fabric on his shoulder.

He has makeup on his shirt, you tell him. It’s yours, of course, the shade of the smudge an identical match to the color staining your lips. It must’ve happened when you leaned in to talk to him earlier.

Sae isn’t surprised. You’re the only person he lets be that close to him, the only person he wants that close. And right now, you’re smiling like you already know, like you revel in it.

“Sorry about that,” you say, without an ounce of guilt in your voice, dragging your nail over the stain.

Sae watches the way you watch him, the way your eyes drift down to stare at his lips. There’s something wanting and possessive in your gaze, something he thinks has been there for a while now. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right.” The laugh you give is shameless, your smile brazen as you move your hand from his shoulder to his chest, fingertips skimming against the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not.”

You kiss him, then, a heated and hungry thing as bold and unapologetic as you are. He surprises himself by letting you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, a calloused hand moving up to cradle your jaw.

Soon you’re kicking off your heels and shrugging off your jacket, tossing it blindly into the backseat and climbing over the center console. You settle into his lap like you belong there, straddling his thighs with your bare knees. He trails his lips along your throat and chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin and pulling down the front of your dress so he can reach more of you.

His hands push the skirt of your dress up and over your hips, palms smoothing over your skin, and you tug at his hair, pressing your body firmly against his. The movement is exactly what you both need, your hips grinding into his lap.

You both groan when the head of his cock catches against your clothed center. You roll your hips into his again, chasing the friction, his grip on your hips turning bruising.

Sae presses a hand between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, just enough to run a finger along your slit and gather the wetness there. He lets out a strained curse and drags his teeth along your throat when he feels how warm and wanting you already are, all because of him.

That’s all the convincing he needs to fuck you open with his fingers, while you grind yourself down against his hand, making breathy little sounds in his ear that he decides he wants to hear more of. You undo the buttons of his shirt and tear the material open, hands roaming over his chest as much as the limited space will allow.

It’s not long after that you decide you want more, undoing the button of his pants and yanking down his zipper with little restraint. He mutters something about you being an impatient brat under his breath, but he doesn't stop you.

Instead, he lets you pull his leaking cock out and wrap your hand around his shaft. He bites back a groan as you squeeze him at the base and move your hand up and down in slow, even strokes, smearing precum along the length of him.

You surge forward to kiss him again, and it’s all Sae can do to meet you halfway, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gasp against his lips. You cling to his shoulders and whisper into his ear, telling him how good he feels, how badly you want him inside of you— all of him, this time, not just his fingers.

Your words go straight to his already painfully hard cock, making him buck up into your hand and reach out blindly for the condoms he keeps in his car. You end up beating him to it, fumbling for only a moment before pulling one out of your purse and tearing the packet open with your teeth.

You don’t waste any more time after that, rolling the condom down over his length while Sae slips his fingers out of you and plants his hands on either side of your waist. You line him up with your entrance and sink yourself onto him with a gasp, hips pressing flush against his as you moan and dig your nails into his skin. He tightens his grip on your waist and muffles his own moan against your lips, the kiss he presses to your mouth all tongue and teeth.

You ride him, head thrown back and lips parted, while he leans back to watch you with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock and pushing his hips up to meet yours.

You look absolutely breathtaking, hips rolling and circling as you gasp out his name and tell him how deep he is and how good he’s making you feel. One of his hands presses against your throat while the other squeezes at your hip, helping you lift yourself up and sink back down to take more of him.

With his lips mouthing at your neck and his thumb drifting down to rub circles into your clit, it isn’t long before you find yourself tipping over the edge. He follows you almost immediately after, spurred on by the scrape of your nails against his scalp and the tightening of your walls around him.

You’re both panting when it’s over, foreheads pressed together and hearts racing as you slump against one another and try to catch your breath. You recover faster than he does and press a parting kiss to his lips that feels almost too sweet after what you’ve just done, climbing off his lap and over the console on shaky legs.

You almost slip when you do, his hand shooting out to steady you at the last second. You laugh while he rolls his eyes and tells you to be more careful, keeping his hand on your hip until finally you settle back safely into the passenger seat.

You’re both quiet as you set to work on fixing your clothing and cleaning yourselves up, redoing zippers and clasping buttons in an effort to make yourselves look presentable again.

Sae finds himself grateful for the silence. It gives him the chance to process exactly what’s just happened between you, and —more importantly— to decide what’s going to happen after.

The sex was good, obviously. Better than good. The best he’s had in a while, maybe even the best he’s had ever— though he thinks he’d rather die than be caught saying any of that out loud. He imagines it must’ve been the same for you, if the way you moaned his name and fell apart around him are anything to go by.

Still, Sae knows himself, which is why he knows better than to allow it to mean anything. He doesn’t need a relationship right now, nor does he particularly want one. He likes you well enough, in a way that makes him view you as slightly less irritating than he does everyone else— but wanting you and wanting to be with you are two very different things.

And at this point in his life, Sae doesn’t want to actually be with anyone, not even you. He doesn’t have the time for it, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the patience.

Sure, he’s dated before, but it was never anything serious. Never anything real. All of his previous relationships —if one could even call them that— were just for show, nothing more than publicity stunts orchestrated by his PR team with models and socialites he’s never really cared about.

Most of them understood the arrangement quite well, knowing it wouldn’t last. Some of them didn’t and tried to make it into something more, but it’s never worked. Sae’s never allowed it. As a result, he’s become an expert at shutting people down, at crushing their hopes of receiving anything more than what he’s willing to give them.

He tells you as much after you’re both dressed again, fully prepared to disappoint you and the hopes you’ve no doubt allowed to build freely inside your head. He’s not cruel enough to say it in a way that hurts you —at least not on purpose— but he wants to be honest. The last thing he needs is for you to get the wrong idea and start thinking that this is going to change anything between you.

“You should know,” he starts, serious and stoic as ever, “I’m not looking for a relationship. The only thing I’m interested in right now is soccer.”

He pauses, bracing himself for your reaction, for the moment when his words finally sink in and you realize that he has no intention of taking this any further. He watches your face carefully, mentally preparing himself for what he knows is going to be the inevitable fallout.

He’s spent enough time with you by now to know you’re not really the crying type, so he’s comfortable with knowing that he at least won’t see any tears. He does, however, expect some swearing on your part, maybe even a little bit of yelling, just enough to let him know that you think he’s an asshole.

To Sae’s surprise, none of that happens. There’s no anger, no confrontation, no fallout. Instead of shouting at him and telling him to go fuck himself, the way he initially expected you to, you smile at him and slip the straps of your dress back up over your shoulders, nodding like this is exactly what you were expecting, like you couldn’t agree more.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” you say, laughing lightly, casually, as you finish readjusting the rest of your clothing. “Your emotional unavailability kind of gave it away. Well, that and your apathy, though I’m starting to think the latter is less of a relationship deterrent and more of just you being yourself.”

You aren’t wrong, of course, but the bluntness of your words still makes him scowl, which in turn just makes you laugh even more.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it.” You slip your heels on your feet and lean down to secure the straps, though not before sending him a teasing grin from over your shoulder. “I’ll have you know, emotionally unavailable and apathetic is exactly my type. Helps if they have pretty eyes and great hair, too.”

Predictably, Sae ignores your blatant flirting in favor of rolling his eyes. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to help when he sees you struggling to retrieve your jacket from the backseat, reaching behind him to grab it and offering it to you with ease.

“Seems like an easy way to get yourself hurt,” he deadpans, before you get the chance to thank him.

“You’re such a pessimist, Sae.” You roll your eyes at his response, but the smile you give as you take your jacket from him is grateful and genuine. “My point is, if you’re worried about me reading into things, don’t be. I’m not expecting anything from you. If we’re being honest, I’m not really looking for anything serious right now, either.”

He knows you mean it —you’re too honest not to— but he raises an eyebrow at you, anyway, examining you carefully for even the slightest hint of doubt.

“So you’re really okay with things staying the same between us?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t. But you have my number if you ever want to do this again.”

You gather the rest of your things before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. It’s light and offhanded, free of any pressure or expectations. Then you smile at him, lifting your hand to give a little wave.

“I’ll see you later, Sae.”

You leave his car with that smile still on your face and your purse in your hand. He watches you go, not taking his eyes off of you until you make it inside your building. You don’t turn back to look at him once.

And though he tries not to —though he likes to believe he’s above such baseless, lukewarm desires— he thinks about your offer on the way home.

It doesn’t take him long to make up his mind.

He texts you three days later. The messages are short and to the point —boring, he knows you’d call them— just a simple ’hey’ followed by a blunt ’wanna come over?’ that he regrets sending almost immediately after it goes through, mostly because he knows you’re never going to let him live it down.

You don’t disappoint, replying back a few minutes later with a ’damn already??’ and an ’it was that good huh 😏😌🤪’ that he pointedly ignores. He threatens to block you, you laugh at the message, and less than an hour later, you’re at his door.

This time, Sae’s the one who kisses you first, easing you onto his bed and pushing your thighs apart so he can slot himself between them. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your throat. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your body and helping you slip out of your clothes until you’re completely bare beneath him.

He makes you cum twice with his mouth, another time with his fingers— and only then does he finally slide himself into you, hands gripping your thighs and chest pressing into yours.

Practice was cut short today in favor of a press conference Sae couldn’t have cared less about, so he has a lot of pent-up energy, which he immediately sets on using to throw your legs over his shoulders and thoroughly fuck you into his mattress.

You don’t complain about it, either, too lost in the pleasure of it all to scold him for the tight grip he has on your hips or the way he’s nearly folding you in half beneath him. You even make a joke about it afterwards, muttering something about how they should cancel his practices more often.

“But only on the weekends,” you add seriously, trying to catch your breath. “The last thing I need is my co-workers watching me wobble into my office because of it.”

Sae actually laughs, though he tries not to. You beam at the sound, only to end up flipping him off moments later, when you rise on trembling legs in search of your clothes and catch him smirking knowingly at you.

And it’s simple, he thinks, doing this with you. Simple and comfortable and not the least bit complicated, which is exactly how he likes it.

You must feel the same way, because the next time it happens, you’re the one who calls first, inviting him up to your apartment and latching your lips to his neck before he’s even fully through the door.

You never really talk about it, nor do you establish any real boundaries beyond that initial conversation you had that first night in his car, but Sae figures you don’t really need to. It goes without saying that this thing between you is completely casual, just a way to satisfy your physical needs and work off some stress whenever you both need it.

Neither of you wants an actual relationship, but that doesn’t mean you’re opposed to sleeping together every now and then, especially when the sex is as good as it’s been. So you keep at it, meeting up whenever you have some free time and fucking until you’ve both had your fill, all without ever expecting anything more.

Sae doesn’t tell anyone about your arrangement. Neither do you. You both agree it’s easier that way, in the name of keeping things smooth and uncomplicated.

He’s not ashamed of what the two of you are doing —he knows you aren’t, either— but neither one of you wants the headache of having to explain it to the well-intentioned but ultimately chronic meddlers you call your friends. So you keep it to yourselves, treating each other the same way you normally would without any extra consideration or kindness.

You both get really good at it, too, maintaining your composure no matter how many stupid and suggestive comments Shidou and Oliver make about the mystery girl he’s always texting, or how often Aina bugs you to show her a picture of the guy she swears has got you dickmatized.

Sae’s sure they have their suspicions, but he knows that he isn’t among them. As far as everyone else is concerned, you and him are just friends, even if you do have a habit of getting a little handsy whenever you think no one is looking.

It helps that you’ve been shamelessly flirting with him since the day you met, so no one ever bats an eye when they see you brushing your hand against his chest or leaning in close to whisper in his ear. Everyone just assumes that it’s you being your normal, bold and affectionate self, and that Sae —moody, stoic, emotionless Sae— will brush it off and ignore you the way he always does.

They have no idea that as soon as you’re alone, the exact opposite happens. That he’s trailing his lips along your neck and sliding his hands up your skirt, while you lock your legs around his waist and pull him in closer, the way you’ve been doing for weeks now.

Sae’s honestly a little surprised no one’s figured it out yet. More than that, though, he’s shocked that he’s still hooking up with you at all.

It’s not like him to stick with someone for so long, especially without his manager breathing down his neck to keep it up for the publicity. He thought your arrangement would last a week, maybe two weeks, tops— but here you both are, still going nearly two months later, with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

He was so sure he’d be bored of it by now, but he isn’t. He can’t be, not with you. You’re too good at distracting him. You’re even better at making him trust you.

And the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes just how easy it is to be around you.

The thing about Sae is that he’s never really been the kind of person who has a lot of friends. He has his teammates and his manager, his parents and sometimes his brother, but he’s never had someone who wasn’t obligated to be around him. Never someone who didn’t expect anything of him.

You, though— you spend time with him on purpose, not because of anything he can give you. Even if this thing between you ends tomorrow, Sae knows it wouldn’t change anything.

You’d still be there, still without expecting anything, because that’s just who you are. Because for some odd reason, you actually like being around him, despite his attitude and his indifference, despite all the things his teammates and the media are always giving him shit for.

He thinks you’ve always liked being around him, even before you started sleeping together. He knows he doesn’t make it easy, but you’re patient with him despite that, giving him space when he needs it and pushing him when he doesn’t.

And he’ll never say it out loud, but the truth is, he likes being around you, too. Almost enough to make him forget that this thing you have is only temporary.

Almost.

The first time you stay the night happens a week later.

You’re both in his bed, all bare skin and tangled sheets as you come down from your respective highs and try to catch your breath. Outside his penthouse, the rain drones on, quieting the city below you into a nearly imperceptible hum.

It’s well past midnight, so late that it’s early, and sure, Sae might be an asshole— but he’s not cruel enough to make you drive home in the rain, especially when he knows how much you hate it.

“You can sleep here if you want,” he says, without thinking much of it, right as you sit up to start looking for your clothes.

Understandably, the offer catches you off guard. Even in the dark, Sae can see the way you turn back and blink owlishly at him, eyebrows raised, like it’s the last thing you expected him to say.

It’s kind of annoying, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now. He knows he’s far from being the most considerate person in your life, but the way you’re gawking at him like he’s grown a second head feels a little dramatic.

Not that he can really blame you for being surprised. You’ve been hooking up almost daily for two months now, but not once during that time have either of you ever spent the night at the other’s place.

Something about it feels different. More intimate, somehow, like it’s crossing a line that’s supposed to be there, if only the two of you had bothered to draw it in the first place.

Sae realizes it at the same time you do and finds himself regretting making the offer at all. He’s accepted the fact that the two of you are friends —albeit begrudgingly— but the last thing he wants is for you to think he meant anything by it.

“Or don’t,” he adds quickly, careful to keep his tone as blank and detached as possible. “It’s up to you. I don’t really care either way.”

From the corner of his eye, he watches you spare a glance at the window. The rain is still going, pouring unforgivingly against the glass, and it only seems to be getting worse.

The rumble of thunder that follows shortly after is enough to convince you to accept his offer. You shrug, murmuring a quiet thanks before laying back down and making yourself comfortable next to him.

Predictably, he says nothing in response to your gratitude. He moves over to give you some space and lets you tuck yourself back under the blanket, shutting his eyes as he settles onto his back.

When he feels your gaze on him moments later, he frowns, cracking an eye open to look at you. Sure enough, you’re staring right at him, a knowing, borderline smug smile on your face that lets him know you’re going to be completely insufferable about this.

“Don’t,” he warns, before you can even get a word out.

You have the audacity to look offended. “Wha— I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“Didn’t have to. Your face is saying plenty.”

He throws an arm over his eyes and does his best to ignore you, hoping you’ll get bored enough with his inattention to let the whole thing go.

(You don’t, of course, but he supposes you wouldn’t be you if you did.)

In the end, it’s Sae who gives in first, uncovering his eyes against his better judgment and turning to face you with a scowl.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you’re quick to reply, even as that smug little smile of yours curls into a grin. “I’m just— I’m surprised you offered to let me stay, is all. It’s not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, well, it was either that or wake up tomorrow to a ten-minute voice note complaining about how shitty your drive home was and how close you were to death.” He turns on his side, shifting so he can face you fully. “I figured if I was going to be annoyed anyway, I might as well get it out of the way now.”

That earns him a smack to the shoulder, along with a scowl meant to convey how unamused you are with his words. He can only hope you’re too busy rolling your eyes to catch the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards, barely suppressing a smile.

“You’re a dick. And for the record, if I did decide to grace you with one of my exciting and wonderfully detailed voice notes, it would’ve been five, maybe six minutes, max.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing you, and you sigh in defeat, relenting.

“Okay, fine, six and a half, but can you blame me? I hate driving in the rain. It’s scary and disorienting, and I always get paranoid that I’m gonna—”

“Spin out and end up on the side of the road,” Sae says, at the exact same time you do, making your eyes widen. “I know. I remember.”

And the crazy part is, he does. He remembers because he knows you, probably better than he knows anybody else, and it’s only now when he’s lying here with you, practically nose-to-nose in the dark, that he realizes just how much.

He’s not sure how or when it happened, but it did. And now, he knows you. He really, really knows you, enough to accept your good-natured teasing and playful smugness, enough to consider your comfort and offer you a place in his bed.

And honestly? He has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to feel about that, so he ignores it entirely, the same way he ignored how his stomach fluttered and his chest warmed when you showed up with a bag of groceries and made him dinner earlier, for no discernable reason other than the fact that you wanted to spend time with him.

His only consolation is that you seem to be as surprised by it as he is. He watches as you blink at him in the dark, wide-eyed and a little stunned, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Then you smile at him, soft and sweet, and Sae feels something in his stomach shift all over again, something warm and unfamiliar he can’t name and honestly doesn’t think he wants to.

“And here I thought sleepovers were against our unofficial rules,” you tease, nudging his leg with your own. “You getting soft on me, Itoshi?”

“You wish,” he denies, scoffing for good measure. “This is a one-time thing. I’ll be back to my usual asshole self in the morning.”

“Bummer.” You nuzzle your face into the pillow beneath your head, stifling a yawn that betrays how tired you really are. “I kind of like you like this.”

“You like me naked and annoyed?”

“No, dummy. I meant sweet and concerned. It’s a surprisingly good look on you. A rare one, but a good one.” You close your eyes, lips curling into a playful smile. “Naked’s a pretty close second, though.”

In response, he flicks your forehead with his thumb and forefinger. You make a noise of protest but keep your eyes shut, swatting blindly at his hand, and for that, he finds himself grateful. He doesn’t think he’ll ever live it down if you catch the way his lips twitch into a smile.

“Just shut up and go to sleep, you little pervert.”

For once, you actually listen to him, bidding him a drowsy “goodnight” and knocking out almost immediately after. He falls asleep not long after you do, drifting off to the sound of your steady breathing and the patter of midnight rain.

Sae wakes before you the next morning, and the first thing he notices is how much closer you are to him now than when you fell asleep.

He’s not sure how it happened, but it seems that somehow over the course of the night, you’ve managed to curl yourself into his side. Now, your head is resting comfortably on his chest, your hand splayed against the muscles of his abdomen.

Sae wishes he could blame the new and compromising position solely on you, but sadly he can’t. At least not when he looks down and finds that his own traitorous arm has wrapped itself around your waist to keep you pressed against him, one of his legs tangled with yours.

It’s cuddly and intimate and most definitely against the unofficial rules of your arrangement, but still, he can’t find it in himself to wake you. He doesn’t shove you off, either, even though he knows he should, half because he thinks he’d rather die than talk to you about this and half because he doesn’t hate it nearly as much as he thought it would.

You’re pretty like this, Sae thinks distantly, completely unprovoked. You always are, but you’re softer when you’re asleep, more relaxed. It’s different from the version of you he’s used to, the one that’s loud and a little bit unruly, who talks a mile a minute and knocks back caffeine like it’s water because she always has a million different things to do.

He never imagined he’d get the chance to see you like this, all delicate and vulnerable. He never imagined he would want to, or that looking at you would make him feel this way, warm and fond and ridiculous. Human, too, in the way he so often likes to forget he is.

He spends longer than he should taking in the curve of your lips, the slope of your cheek. He untangles himself from you as carefully as he can manage and forces himself out of bed before he does something really stupid, like brush your hair out of your face or swipe his thumb against your cheek.

Sae takes a cold shower and runs through what’s left of his morning routine, willing all the strange thoughts he’s having about you to disappear.

It works for the most part, until you come padding into the kitchen and join him at the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re bare-faced and sleepy, dressed in one of his t-shirts and the sweatpants he let you borrow last night, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose and your hair pulled up and away from your face. He thinks fleetingly that it’s the cutest you’ve ever looked, which is not only ridiculous but also so unlike him that he has to resist the urge to vomit right then and there.

Somehow he manages, handing you a cup of steaming coffee as soon as you approach. You take it from him without hesitation, accepting the drink with a grateful smile and murmuring a quiet good morning.

If you’re surprised by the gesture, you don’t show it, too busy sipping gingerly at your coffee and letting it wake you up. Then you’re launching into your usual upbeat chatter, this time about your job and the co-worker who you swear you’re one “as per my last email” away from fist-fighting in the conference room.

It’s normal enough to distract him, allowing him to push away the memory of how you woke up this morning and all the sappy shit he’s been thinking about you as a result.

He almost forgets about it entirely, until later that night when he slips into bed and catches the scent of your shampoo on his pillow.

That’s when his mind begins to drift, completely against his will. He starts remembering all sorts of unwelcome things, like the weight of you in his arms, the curve of your lashes against your cheek, how tempted he was to brush your hair out of your face and pull you closer—

Sae huffs and flips the pillow over, somewhere between confused and annoyed, though whether it’s with you or himself, he isn’t sure.

He turns around and closes his eyes, forcing himself to sleep, but the thought of you lingers.

It’s Aina —and, by default, Oliver— who finds out first.

It happens on a Saturday morning, nearly four months into your arrangement with Sae. Aina shows up at your apartment completely unannounced, with a tray of coffee and a surprisingly dutiful Oliver in tow, carrying the rest of the bags. (Apparently, it’s an on-week for them.)

They mean to surprise you with breakfast, hoping to convince you over french toast and scrambled eggs to put a pause on your ‘no relationships allowed’ policy and agree to a double date with one of his teammates.

One could only imagine their surprise when they find you standing in your entryway with an entirely different teammate, one who apparently already has access to sleepover privileges. And with Sae in his clothes from the night before and you in your robe and absolutely nothing else, it isn’t hard for them to put two and two together and realize what you’ve been up to.

The silence that follows their discovery is the loudest Sae thinks he’s ever heard in his life. There’s an uncomfortably long moment where the four of you just stand there and stare at each other, not saying a single word.

Aina is the first to react, letting out an Oscar-worthy gasp loud enough to alert your neighbors. Her eyes go wide, jaw dropping as her gaze jumps back and forth between you and Sae, like her brain can’t fully make sense of what she’s seeing.

“Holy shit.”

Oliver, on the other hand, appears to be having the time of his life, leering at the two of you with the largest and most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on his face, like this is the best news he’s heard all week.

“No fucking way,” he says, two-toned eyes darting between you and Sae wickedly, before settling on you once more. “You bagged Itoshi?”

It’s a pretty spot-on assumption, Sae thinks, even if the way Oliver says it is stupid and irritating as hell. You are the one who approached him first, as well as the one who initiated things that first night you slept together. Not that it’s anyone else’s business, anyway, least of all nosy-ass Oliver’s.

You and Sae exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between you. It’s a testament to how familiar you’ve grown with one another over the past few months, where just one look is enough for the two of you to get an idea of what the other is thinking.

Having two of the loudest people you know find out you’ve been sleeping together isn’t ideal —neither Aina nor Oliver is exactly known for their subtlety— but it’s not the end of the world.

The two of you agreed to keep things quiet because you wanted your privacy, not because you’re ashamed of what you’ve been doing, so telling them won’t change much, as long as they don’t make it a big deal.

And besides, it’s not like you’re in any position to deny it, not when they’ve caught you red-handed.

Still, Aina and Oliver are more your friends than they are Sae’s, so he has no problem with you taking the lead on this one, which he attempts to communicate with a subtle nod of his head.

Thankfully, you seem to understand exactly what he means, clearing your throat and drawing all eyes back to you.

You pointedly ignore Oliver and his devilish smirk in favor of focusing on your best friend, who seems to be short-circuiting in light of the new information that’s been presented to her today. You take it all in stride, wielding that same easy confidence that Sae’s always admired in you, and nod at the tray she’s carrying.

“Is that iced coffee for me?”

Aina, for her part, still appears to be at a loss for words, but she makes an effort to answer you all the same, a confused but otherwise affirmative sound leaving her lips in response. You smile, reaching out to pluck the drink from its tray.

“Cool. Thanks.” You take a sip of your coffee before returning your attention to the midfielder beside you, offering him a warm smile and a parting wave. “Bye, Sae.”

It’s an easy out, of course, one that Sae is quick to accept, nodding at you and the stunned couple across from you before taking his leave.

The last thing he hears before your door shuts is the sound of Aina’s voice, baffled and utterly disbelieving as it rings out into your apartment.

“You’ve been fucking Itoshi Sae?!”

Her astonishment is a sentiment that carries over into the texts she sends you that same night, complete with various emojis and an assortment of reaction images she hopes will reflect her lingering shock. Oliver isn’t far behind her, though the texts he sends you are more teasing than anything else.

Still, they’re both strangely supportive about the whole thing. They even promise to keep what they’ve learned to themselves, though they still can’t quite believe it.

You show the texts to Sae the next time you’re at his place, letting him read them over your shoulder as the two of you lounge together in his bed, your back against his chest and his arm wound loosely around your waist.

The reaction images are sadly lost on him —Sae, as it turns out, really only cares about soccer, which means he has the social media literacy of a 70-year-old man— but he’s able to catch the gist.

You laugh about it together anyway, though for him it’s more of a little hum, followed by that tiny amused smirk you’re seeing more and more of every day.

“Did they seriously congratulate you for sleeping with me?”

“Yup. It’s a big deal, according to them. They’re both very proud of me.” You lock your phone and set it gently on his nightstand, twisting in his arms to face him with a teasing grin. “Apparently, I’m hooking up with the hottest midfielder in the league.”

He brushes off the comment at first, the way he seems to do with all of your obvious flirting, but he doesn’t stop you when you lift your leg and hike it over his hip.

And maybe it’s because he’s tired from practice, or maybe it’s because being around you relaxes him in a way he isn’t used to— but he ends up pulling you closer, palm smoothing over your skin and tracing a path up your leg.

“Well,” he mutters, hand squeezing appreciatively at your thigh, “it’s not like they’re wrong.”

“I dunno…” You let your voice trail off, fingertips skimming down his chest as you pretend to think about it. “I mean, ‘hottest midfielder’ is a really big title, and from what I’ve seen, your brother’s pretty hot, too.”

“My brother’s a striker, dumbass.”

“Even better. Think you can put in a good word for me?”

He shoots you a flat look, unimpressed by your joke, while you grin at him and crack up like you're the funniest person in the world. You’re still laughing when he reaches behind his head for a pillow and smacks you right in the face with it, squeaking out a “hey, wait, I’m kidding— I’m kidding!” between bursts of laughter.

And it’s ridiculous, Sae thinks, how easily the sound of your laugh softens him, how quickly it makes him forget about ever being annoyed. It shouldn’t, but it does, and right now he’s trying very hard not to think about what that might mean.

So he pushes it down and ignores it, the same way he’s forced himself to ignore how comfortable he’s gotten with you these past few months, hooking his hand behind your knee and rolling you both over so you’re laying on your back with him hovering above you.

He kisses you, then, deep and wanting in the way he knows you like, the one that leaves you breathless, half to distract himself and half because he wants to. You welcome him eagerly the way you always do, hooking your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair in an effort to bring him closer to you.

He breaks the kiss before it can go any further, drawing back just enough so that his lips are hovering above your own. You open your eyes, pupils blown out with desire, blinking at him expectantly as you wait for him to kiss you again.

When he doesn’t, you move for him, leaning up to press your lips back against his. He moves just out of reach at the last second, leaving you with a crease in your forehead and a pout on your lips that’s almost cute enough for him to give you what you want. Almost.

But Sae, as you’ve both learned, has a bit of a possessive streak. And while he’s already forgiven you for your earlier teasing, he hasn’t forgotten. And he intends, in true egoist fashion, to have the last word, even if it means having to stave off his own desires for a bit.

“You still interested in my brother?” he asks, and it’s pointed, goading. Probably the closest he’ll get to admitting how utterly disinterested he is in sharing you with anyone else.

“Wait, you have a brother?” You widen your eyes and pretend to be shocked, batting your lashes innocently before shaking your head. “Never heard of him.”

“Idiot,” he tells you, quiet, fond. Affectionate, too, if you’d listen closely enough. If he’d let you.

You merely laugh in response, bright and airy, before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down to you. This time, he doesn’t pull away, leaning down to kiss you and feeling your smile against his lips.

It’s not long after that your kisses turn heated and wanting, his tongue and lips tracing a path down your neck and over your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth and rolls the other between his thumb and index finger, your nails digging into his back as you moan, pretty and breathless into his ear.

One of the perks of your arrangement lasting so long is that it’s made Sae somewhat of an expert at taking you apart. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, knows your body and all of its little tells, all the ways you like to be touched.

It doesn’t take much for him to have you desperate and keening, just his tongue at your clit and his fingers deep in your cunt, curling against the spot that makes your eyes roll back.

Soon you’re pulling at his hair, your arousal dripping down his wrist and chin as you whine at him to fuck you, all trembling thighs and breathy whimpers. He obliges, half because you’re practically begging for it and half because he wants you so much, it’s starting to make him dizzy.

It’s not always like this. Most nights Sae prefers taking his time with you. He gets off on seeing how needy you get, how much he can make you want him. You never beg for anything, never want for anything from anyone else until you’re here, desperate and panting beneath him.

He likes seeing you that way. He likes being the one you seek out to give it to you even more.

Tonight, though, it’s different. He’s not sure what triggered it, but suddenly he can’t stop touching you, can’t stop thinking about you and how much he wants you. He’s always attentive, but right now he feels greedy, impatient. Wild in a way he isn’t used to. He kisses you, and it’s hungry, deliberate, like he has something to prove.

He helps you to your knees and fucks you with his hands at your hips and his chest at your back, hard and deep the way he knows you like. He makes you cum with your cheek pressed into the mattress and your hands digging into the sheets, and then he flips you over and pushes your knees to your chest, sliding back into you.

He makes you cum like that, too, with his name on your lips and your hands laced with his own, pinned above your head— once, twice more until he’s had his fill and begins chasing his own release, his face pressed against your neck as he finally lets go and falls apart inside of you.

You shower together afterwards, all slow kisses and languid touches as you stand beneath the warmth of his stupidly expensive shower head. It’s softer than it should be, too soft to be considered casual.

Sae knows it, too, just like he knows he should quit while he’s ahead and pull away from you before it’s too late, but he can’t, not when the scrape of your nails against his scalp as you lave shampoo through his hair feels as good as it does.

You exit the shower looking clean and refreshed, hair damp and skin glowing as you towel yourself off. You smell just like him, the scent of his body wash clinging to your skin.

It does something stupid to his brain, knowing that. Makes his ears red and his heart race in a way he immediately tries to bury. For some reason, this time it’s harder to do.

You get dressed in his bedroom and pack your bag. You tell him you have a big meeting at work tomorrow, so you can’t spend the night. You stay for dinner anyway, letting him treat you to takeout from your favorite restaurant.

The two of you sit on his couch and enjoy your meal together. As usual, you’re the one who provides most of the conversation, Sae preferring to nod along and listen, interjecting every now and then with a surprisingly thoughtful question or a sly comment that has you elbowing him in the side.

With takeout boxes littering his coffee table and a movie you’ve both already seen playing idly in the background, his apartment feels more lived in now than it ever has before, the way it always does whenever you come over. Sae does his very best to ignore how normal it all seems, how easily your knee presses against his as you sit beside him on the couch.

When it’s time for you to leave, he walks you to the door. You thank him again for dinner and smile when he brushes you off, reminding you to text him when you get home.

Then you kiss him goodbye and he lets you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it isn’t a big deal, even though you both know it is.

And though he knows he shouldn’t, though he knows he’s better off pushing it down and ignoring it, the way he’s gotten so good at lately— he thinks about it for the rest of the night.

Things get a little blurrier after that.

It starts slowly, at first. An extra toothbrush by his sink, your hair ties on his nightstand. Little pieces of you scattered across his apartment that reveal just how intertwined your lives have become, even if neither of you wants to admit it.

He gets into the habit of picking you up from work. Starts showing up at your door with a bottle of wine and your favorite comfort snacks whenever he knows you’ve had a shitty week. There’s a shelf in his bathroom set aside just for you, stocked with moisturizer, cleanser, and face masks he lets you slather on his skin every now and then, on nights when he’s feeling particularly indulgent.

Your place is just as bad, if not worse. There’s protein powder in your pantry now, his hoodies hung up comfortably in your closet.

You drive him to practice when you have some free time and send him voice notes when you don’t, ones he makes a fuss about but always listens to. And whenever he has a game, you’re the first person who Facetimes him in the morning, wishing him luck and letting him know how excited you are to watch him win.

These days, you’re together more often than you’re apart. Sometimes he invites you over, and you don’t even have sex at all— you just hang out in his apartment and tell him about your day, resting your feet in his lap while his hands roam up and down your calves, and it feels like enough. Having you there feels like enough.

It gets to the point that whenever Shidou or Oliver want to reach him, they call you instead, knowing that Sae will be with you, the way he always seems to be now. It’s so humbling that for a single, horrifying moment, he considers cutting you off completely.

But Sae knows, even before the thought forms in his mind, that he won’t be able to go through with it. You’re too important to him now, too familiar. You’re his best friend, and as confusing and annoying as his thoughts about you have become, he can’t stay away from you.

He doesn’t even realize how bad he’s got it until another two months later, on the night of your birthday, when a conversation with Oliver forces him to confront the feelings he’s usually a lot better at ignoring.

The evening itself starts off normally enough. Sae spends most of it on the field with his team, in preparation for a rivalry game that’s less than a week away. The other players leave as soon as their coach dismisses them, eager to hit the showers and get some rest, but Sae stays behind for some extra practice.

He’s still at it by the time Oliver returns from the locker room. The centerback looks surprised to see that Sae’s still there, but he doesn’t hesitate to approach, joining his teammate out on the pitch.

“Figures you’d be the last one on the field,” Oliver says, greeting him with his signature sleazy smile. “You trying to make the rest of us look bad, Itoshi?”

Sae barely spares him a glance, choosing instead to focus on the row of soccer balls lined up at his feet. “I’ve never had to try to do that.”

Anyone else would be insulted, but Oliver just laughs, too used to Sae’s attitude to take it personally. “Why’re you still out here, anyway? It’s your girl’s birthday tonight. Shouldn’t you be back at your place getting ready?”

You’re not his girl, obviously, but correcting Oliver would be more trouble than it’s worth, so Sae doesn’t bother. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on, man. No one’s that much of an asshole, not even you. Aren’t you coming to her party?”

Sae knows all about your party, of course. You invited him a while ago, though you made it clear it was a no pressure invitation. You knew he had that game coming up and that parties —especially the over the top and extravagant kind planned by Aina— aren’t really his thing, so you’d understand if he didn’t attend.

You’ve always been like that. Always more considerate than he or anyone else deserves. He picked up a present for you anyway, a simple necklace with a diamond sun pendant that made him think of you.

He planned to give it to you next week. Figured it would more than make up for his absence tonight, especially when he knows you’ll be busy with your friends. He’ll be shocked if you even notice he isn’t there, which is why he doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about sitting this one out.

“I’m not going,” Sae states plainly, kicking the ball at his feet and watching it land in the goal. “She said I didn’t have to.”

“Well yeah, that sounds like her, but don’t you want to? It’d be a fun way to surprise her,” Oliver points out, as if Sae really needs the reminder. “Hell, even I’m going, and she only tolerates me.”

“She knows I’m busy.” Another kick, another goal. Sae lifts the bottom of his shirt and wipes at the sweat on his face, unmoved. “She’ll be fine.”

“Damn.” Oliver whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, somewhere between incredulous and impressed. “And here I thought the two of you were finally getting serious. Shidou’ll be thrilled you’re back on the market. Adrian, too— though for different reasons.”

That catches Sae’s attention. He pauses before his next kick and shifts his gaze to where Oliver stands, narrowing his eyes.

He isn’t sure what his teammate is suggesting here, but he already doesn’t like it.

“Am I supposed to care about who that is?”

“You tell me. See, from what I hear, he’s your girl’s— my bad, I mean your not-girl’s ex. Apparently they ended on pretty good terms. Aina told me he’ll be there tonight, along with the rest of their friends.”

Oliver waits for a moment, letting his words sink in, before he grins knowingly, mismatched eyes smug and goading.

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t care, huh?”

Sae feels himself frown, eyes narrowing into a glare as something heavy and bitter settles over his chest. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, too, one that makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

You’ve never mentioned Adrian before. You’ve never mentioned any of your exes before, at least not to Sae, and why would you?

Contrary to popular belief, Sae’s not your boyfriend. He’s not even someone you’re officially dating. He’s just a friend you fuck regularly and hang out with after, even if it has been going on for way too long to be considered casual.

The point is, who you choose to spend your time with, romantically or otherwise, is none of his business, because you never agreed to be exclusive. And it’s not like he cares if you’re seeing other people, anyway, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t care.

He’s just a little annoyed by it, is all. Just a little irritated by the fact that Oliver would waste his time by bringing it up now, even though he knows Sae has more important things on his mind, like the upcoming game everyone else seems to be forgetting about.

That’s what Sae tells himself, anyway. What he reminds himself of even after Oliver says goodbye and heads off to get ready, leaving him alone on the pitch with nothing but his thoughts.

He repeats it inside of his head, over and over again, telling himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care— even as the next ball he kicks misses, ricocheting off the goalpost.

So what if you’re seeing the ex you never mentioned tonight? And so what if the two of you ended on good enough terms for you to feel comfortable inviting him to your party? It’s your birthday, and you’re allowed to spend it with whoever you want.

Sae knows that, just like he knows you don’t owe him anything, least of all an explanation. And he doesn’t care— he doesn’t. He shouldn’t, because if he did, well— then that would mean he cares about you, maybe even has actual feelings for you, and that just wouldn’t make any sense, would it?

Because Sae doesn’t do this kind of thing. He doesn’t do feelings, or relationships, or anything else that puts him at risk of being vulnerable. He isn’t made for it. He never has been.

But then he thinks of you. Of your smile and your enthusiasm, of your quick comebacks and your laugh that turns into a snort whenever you think something is especially funny.

He thinks about the first time you spent the night at his place. He remembers waking up with you after and how easy it felt to hold you, how right.

You are thoughtful in a way that Sae is not, light-hearted and optimistic in a way he knows he’ll never be. You’re smart, too, smarter than anyone else he knows and more sensitive than you like to admit.

You’re stubborn to a fault, you hate admitting when you’re wrong, and you wouldn’t know how to relax even if someone paid you— but Sae can’t think of anything he’d like to do more than spend his time trying to keep up with you.

It hits him, then. The truth he’s spent the past few months trying to deny. All those sappy thoughts he’s had about you, the comfort and ease that settle over him whenever he’s around you— it’s not just because he likes spending time with you, or because he considers you a close friend.

It’s because he has feelings for you. Real, genuine feelings that he can’t ignore, at least not anymore.

It’s why hearing about your ex distracts him enough to make him miss the goal. Why the thought of you with someone else makes him feel sick to his stomach. And as much as Sae hates being vulnerable and honest about his feelings, he thinks he hates the idea of you cozying up to your ex even more.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, or what he’s going to say to you— but what he does know is that he can’t do it here, so he picks up his bag and leaves the field.

An hour later, he’s in his car and driving up to the lounge where Aina’s hosting your party, freshly showered and handing his keys over to the valet. The necklace he picked out for you rests inside the pocket of his jacket, tucked securely against his side.

It’ll pair nicely with his confession, he thinks, if he can find the words. If his logic will allow it.

Inside the lounge, it doesn’t take him long to find you. You’re exactly where he thought you’d be, smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips and singing your heart out with Aina and the rest of your friends at your side.

You look incredible, all smooth skin and glittery eyes, dressed in something soft and lacey he can’t wait to help you out of. You’ve always been beautiful, but here beneath the warm lights with your hair framing your face and your lips curled into that alluring smile, you’re easily the most stunning thing he’s ever seen.

Sae spends longer than he probably should just looking at you, watching you laugh and dance out on the floor, spurred on by the music and the enthusiastic cheers of your friends. He finds himself smiling before he can really help it, tender and fond in the way only you ever seem to make him.

You do a bit of a double take when you spot him, craning your neck past Aina’s head to get a better view. He sends you a short nod as a form of greeting, and you return it with an excited wave of your own, excusing yourself from your friends to join him where he stands at the edge of the crowd.

You smile as you approach, a little breathless from all the dancing, but still so beautiful. You look happy that he’s here, but you’re surprised, too, eyes wide, like he’s the last person you expected to see.

“Sae? What are you doing here?”

It’s a fair question, considering the fact that the last time you spoke, he told you he couldn’t make it, but he raises an eyebrow anyway, like he can’t believe you’d ask. “You invited me, remember?”

“Well, yeah, I did, but I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you say honestly, laughing a little. “I thought you were busy.”

“I was. Now I’m not.” When your eyes widen even more, your surprise giving way to disbelief, Sae’s eyebrows furrow. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“That you’re choosing to spend your free time surrounded by everyone I know getting drunk off their asses? Kind of, yeah.” You reach out and smooth your hands over his chest, tugging at the lapels of his jacket to tease him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

And Sae, too sure of his feelings to deny it, but too stubborn to agree, merely sighs, though he does nothing to move your hands away. “Look, if you want me to leave—”

“And rob me and the rest of my friends of the opportunity to ogle you in a button-down? On my birthday?” You put a hand over your heart and shake your head, looking scandalized. “That’s so disrespectful, not to mention selfish. I’m honestly offended that you even suggested it.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering something about you being the most dramatic person in the world, and you start to laugh, lips curling into that lovely little smile that lately he can’t stop thinking about.

Then you take his hand, sliding your fingers through his in a way that feels a lot more significant now that he knows he has feelings for you, and Sae feels something in his chest shift all over again, his pulse quickening beneath his skin.

“Come on,” you tell him, tugging on his hand to guide him forward, completely unaware of the effect you have on him. “I’ll get you a drink.”

You lead him to the bar and prop yourself up on one of the stools. Sae takes a seat beside you and watches as you order two cocktails— something simple for him and something sweet for yourself. The bartender makes quick work of your drinks, setting them down in front of you in record time and leaving you and Sae to chat.

“How was practice?”

“Same as always. How’s your party?”

“It’s been a lot of fun, actually. Aina really outdid herself. I’m thankful, even if it is forcing me to accept the sad reality that I’m basically a grandma now.” You let out a wistful sigh, stirring your drink with your straw. “When I was in college, I used to knock back tequila like it was water. Now it just kind of burns.”

That has him letting out an actual laugh, quiet but genuine, though he attempts to cover it up by reaching for his drink. You notice anyway and beam at the sound, unreasonably pleased with yourself, the way you always are whenever you manage to make him laugh.

He thinks of telling you that you’re the only one who can, the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do so. But the bar is rowdy and the music’s too loud, so he keeps it to himself, taking a sip of his drink and watching you do the same.

You chat for a while longer, catching each other up on all that you’ve missed in the week since you last saw one another. He tells you about the trip he took to the beach and the clothing sponsorship his manager won’t shut up about, and you tell him about the new pastry shop you tried and the comically large fruit bouquet your parents had delivered to your doorstep this morning.

And it’s easy, Sae thinks, talking to you like this. He’s never been a fan of parties, but sitting here with you, listening to your voice and hearing you laugh, it isn’t so bad.

He spent most of the drive here thinking of you and coming to terms with his feelings for you. These past few months have been filled with nothing but denial on his part, with Sae doing everything in his power to convince himself that he only saw you as the friend he was casually hooking up with, despite every one of his thoughts and actions proving otherwise.

But on the drive here, when he finally sat down to think about it, he found that what he feels for you was strangely easy for him to accept, despite the initial shock of it all.

Sae’s never been one for romance or relationships. He’s never imagined that’d be something he’d want, but looking at you now and wanting you the way he does, he knows it’s true. If he has to have feelings for anyone, he figures it might as well be you.

You, with all your sarcasm and your compassion and that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of.

He’s glad that it’s you.

If Sae were softer, more sensitive like Rin, he’d tell you. If he were better with words, if he knew what to say or where to start, he’d grab your hand and take you somewhere quiet and romantic, and then he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you everything, all about the way you make him feel and all the parts of himself you make him want to give you.

But Sae isn’t like that. And while normally he wouldn’t hesitate to go after what he wants, he’s not going to risk ruining your birthday or the friendship you’ve built by telling you about the feelings he’s only now realizing he has, especially when he has no idea how to put them into words.

So he doesn’t.

He just listens to the sound of your voice and keeps his feelings to himself, pretending that absolutely nothing has changed even when it’s obvious that everything has.

Eventually, Aina and the rest of your girlfriends show up at the bar to steal you away. They’re shouting something about birthday pictures and ass-shaking that Sae only half-understands, but he doesn’t fight them on it. He knows how excited you are to spend tonight celebrating and letting loose with your friends, so he lets them whisk you away, nodding when you promise to catch up with him later.

Shidou and Oliver show up to harass him the second you and your friends are gone. They try to bully him into taking shots with them, but when that doesn’t work, they settle for setting him up with another drink instead. Then they each sling an arm around his shoulders and herd him over to the couches, where a handful of their other teammates are waiting.

The next time Sae sees you, you're back on the dance floor with your friends. He recognizes most of them, like Aina and Eri, Kenta and Misaki. The only stranger is the man standing behind you, the one Sae immediately decides he doesn’t like.

That’s when Sae notices how close this guy is to you and how low his hands are on your waist. All of a sudden, ignoring his feelings for you becomes a lot harder to do, especially now, when he’s almost positive that you’re dancing with your ex.

Sae doesn’t actually know that the man you’re dancing with is Adrian, of course. He’s too far away to hear what’s being said or to catch any names, but with how comfortable this guy seems to be with touching you, it isn’t hard to guess. He’s lean and broad-shouldered, too, with bright green eyes and silky dark hair, and well— you did say you have a type.

And when you glance over your shoulder to look at him, instead of being disgusted and telling him to get the fuck away from you, the way Sae is hoping you will, you smile. You actually fucking smile, accepting the bastard’s outstretched hand and letting him spin you around, like it’s normal, like you’re used to it. Like it’s something the two of you have done a million times before.

Quite frankly, it makes Sae want to fucking vomit.

It bothers him more than he cares to admit, watching you dance with Adrian and seeing how happy you look, how easily you welcome your ex-boyfriend’s touch. You aren’t even doing anything particularly scandalous, just laughing and letting him twirl you around, but seeing it happen still makes Sae’s stomach churn and his chest ache in a way he knows can’t be normal.

When the song changes, Aina ushers you and the rest of your group back towards the bar, ending your little stint on the dance floor. Sae finds himself grateful for the interruption, until he realizes that all it’s done is provide Adrian with the opportunity to get even closer to you, nestling himself between you and Eri.

Aina stands on your other side and waves down the bartender, but all Sae can focus on is the arm Adrian has wrapped around your shoulders, the way he leans in close and whispers in your ear.

Immediately, Sae decides he can’t watch anymore, not unless he actually wants to throw up. So instead of sticking around to see what happens next, he stands up and walks away, before the tension in his chest makes him do something stupid.

Shidou and Oliver call after him in confusion, but Sae ignores them, disappearing into the crowd without looking back.

There’s an outdoor section attached to the lounge, guarded by a set of clunky metal doors he didn’t notice until now. He pushes past them and is pleased to find the space almost entirely empty, save for the trio of smokers who are already on their way back inside, their cigarettes quickly blackening in the ashtray left on one of the tables outside.

Sae walks past them as they exit, ignoring the open chairs and couches in favor of standing closer to the balcony. He braces himself against the railing, nursing a drink he doesn’t even really want in his hand and a heaviness he isn’t used to in his heart.

It’s colder out here than it is inside. Quieter, too, though Sae hardly minds it. He welcomes the chill and the silence it brings, even if it does little to sort out his thoughts. All he knows for sure is that right now, he wants to be alone, and being out here can give him that, so he stays.

He enjoys about ten minutes of blissful silence before he hears the doors push open again. He braces himself with a deep sigh and looks over his shoulder, ready to tell Oliver to go back inside and leave him alone, but he stops himself when he sees that it’s you.

And it’s awful, Sae thinks, how easily the sight of you softens him, how happy he is to see you, even now. A few seconds ago, he was convinced he didn’t want to see anyone at all, but looking at you now, he can’t imagine ever asking you to leave.

The thought’s a little easier for him to stomach now that he’s accepted his feelings for you, but that doesn’t make it any less disorienting.

“There you are,” you say, greeting him with a warm smile and looking just as happy to see him now as you were when he first arrived. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I tried asking Oliver, but he wasn’t sure, either.”

Sae’s eyebrows raise at your words, his previous agitation forgotten. “You went looking for me?”

“Of course.” You join him at the railing, heels clacking against the pavement as you walk. You’re standing close enough now that your arm touches his, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “I can’t exactly fulfill my promise of ogling you if you’re all the way out here, now, can I?”

“I’m sure you would’ve figured something out,” he says, bumping his shoulder with yours, even as the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. “You’re persistent that way.”

“Can you blame me? You know what the sight of you with your shirt buttons undone does to the general public, myself included.”

“Weirdly enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that tonight.”

“Let me guess— Shidou?”

“He’s the only other person as dedicated to flirting with me as you are.”

You laugh, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a shrug. “What can I say? We have excellent taste.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” He raises an eyebrow at you and hums, amused. “And here I thought it was just the two of you being shameless as always.”

“Only for you,” you say, voice low and playful, punctuating your words with a ridiculous wink that he shouldn’t find nearly half as endearing as he does. “Well, you and Pedro Pascal, but he didn’t show up for my birthday the way you did, so— mostly you.”

“I’m flattered,” he drawls sarcastically, making you laugh.

A brief silence follows, though it’s far from uncomfortable. It never is, not when it’s just you and Sae. You know he isn’t exactly the most talkative person, but you’ve never seemed to have a problem with that, never tried to make him into something he’s not. It’s one of the many things he likes about you.

You blink when you catch him staring at you, but you don’t hesitate to smile at him anyway. “What?”

“Nothing.” He’s quick to change the subject, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from your own. That’s when he notices the way you’re shivering, your arms going up to wrap around yourself as a breeze passes and goosebumps rise on your skin. “You’re cold.”

“Only a little,” you admit, expression bashful as you rub your arm, “but it’s fine. I’ll adjust. Honestly, with how hot it was inside, I probably need the—”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and offering it for you to take. “Here.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Really, you don’t have to—”

Your protests quickly go nowhere, Sae choosing to ignore you and all but shoving his jacket into your hands. You accept it from him somewhat unsurely, though that hesitance quickly disappears the moment you feel how warm his jacket feels around you.

You slide your arms through the sleeves and let the jacket rest comfortably around your shoulders, looking up to face him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He nods in acknowledgement of your gratitude but says nothing else, too busy taking in the sight of you in his jacket and thinking about how much better it’d be if you were actually his.

Not for the first time, he thinks of confessing his feelings. He settles for bringing up the gift he got you instead, hoping it’ll be enough to make you understand.

“There’s something in it for you,” he says quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. “Inside the pocket.”

You blink, taken aback. “Really?”

When he nods, you reach inside his jacket. It takes you a moment or two of rummaging around, but eventually you find what you’re looking for, pulling out the dark velvet box that holds the necklace he got you for your birthday and cradling it gently inside your palm.

You meet his gaze briefly, eyes soft and searching, before opening the box with your other hand. You let out a tiny gasp when you see what’s inside, your eyes widening at the sun pendant that rests before you. It quite literally takes your breath away, and Sae knows, even before you meet his eyes again, that he’s done something right.

“Oh, my god. Sae, this is so— I mean, I don’t even know what to—” He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this way before, so at a loss for words. Usually you always have something to say, but right now you can hardly form a sentence, eyes wide as you all but gape at him. “Are you sure?”

“Happy birthday,” Sae says, as softly and sincerely as he can manage. “I hope you like it.”

“Are you kidding? How could I not?”

You laugh a little, voice disbelieving as you trace your fingertips over the necklace, gentle and admiring. Sae can’t help but smile to himself as he watches you, pleased by how touched you seem to be by the gift.

“It’s beautiful. Seriously, Sae, it’s gorgeous and wonderful— and way too fucking expensive.” You snap the box closed, shaking your head firmly. “I can’t accept this.”

Your words make him frown, brows furrowing slightly as you hold the box out to him. He had a feeling you’d be difficult about this, knowing how notoriously stubborn you are, but he thought you’d at least put the necklace on before trying to give it back to him.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?” You stare at him, bewildered, an almost comically serious look on your face as you lift the box in your hands and shake it around. “Sae, there are actual diamonds on this necklace.”

He resists the urge to laugh at your expression, shrugging his shoulders and raising an eyebrow. “So?”

“So?” you repeat, giving him an incredulous look. “That means it’s probably worth more than my freakin’ apartment! I can’t take this from you.”

“You’re not taking anything. I��m giving it to you,” Sae corrects, completely unbothered, even as your eye starts to twitch in a way that makes it clear you think he’s lost his mind. “You know, like that gift thing people do on birthdays?”

He tries to make a joke, but you hardly acknowledge it, evidently too occupied with having an internal crisis about the amount of money he spent to appreciate his rare attempt at humor. There’s a frown on your lips and a crease in your brow that reassure him it’s going to take a lot more than that to convince you to accept the gift, but thankfully, Sae has already prepared for that.

“I’m not bringing it back to the store,” he says, meeting your eyes so you can see exactly how serious he is. “I already got rid of the receipt, and I’m not giving it to anyone else, so either you take it, or it goes in the trash.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the look on his face must make you reconsider, because you’re closing it before you can say anything else. Realizing that regardless of your protests, he won’t be changing his mind, you sigh, relenting.

“Fine. I’ll take it.” You’re trying your best to pout, making a show of your begrudging acceptance, but the sparkle in your eye as you gaze down at the box in your hand betrays just how thrilled you really are to be keeping the gift. “But I would like the record to show that I think you’re a psychopath. A filthy rich, full-blown psychopath.”

“You know, most people would just say thank you.”

Sae expects you to make a quip back, maybe even return his snark with an eye roll of your own, but you surprise him by taking his hand in yours, using the other to cradle the box to your chest.

“Thank you, Sae.” You squeeze his hand and smile, gratitude and sincerity hanging off every word. “I love it.”

You give his hand another gentle squeeze before releasing it and turning your attention back to the box you’re holding, a distraction Sae finds himself grateful for. He’s not sure what kind of expression he’s making right now, but if the way his pulse is racing is any indication, he doubts it’s anything normal.

He watches as you open the box and remove the necklace from inside. Once it’s been freed, you put the empty box back in his pocket and let the necklace dangle from your fingertips, turning to offer it to him again.

“Will you help me put it on?”

For a moment, all Sae can do is nod. His pulse is still racing, drumming beneath his skin with the kind of adrenaline he thought he’d only ever get while playing soccer. He ignores it as best as he can, clearing his throat and taking the necklace from you.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, turning so your back is facing him and holding up your hair so it’s out of the way. He brings the necklace to your throat, fingers brushing against your neck in a way that makes you shudder slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you lean instinctively into his touch.

The sight is tempting enough to make him want to forget the necklace entirely and bring his lips to your throat, grazing the spot below your ear he knows drives you crazy, but somehow he resists the urge, clasping the necklace shut without any further incident.

“Well?” You let go of your hair and turn back around to face him, a smile on your face as you put your hands on your hips and strike a pose. “How’s it look?”

What Sae wants to say is that you look stunning. That you always do, and that it has nothing to do with the necklace at your throat or the clothes you wear and everything to do with the way you carry yourself, dramatic nonsense and all.

What comes out of his mouth instead isn’t nearly as poetic. “It looks better on you than it would have in the garbage can.”

It’s probably one of the least romantic things you’ve ever heard, but luckily for him, you’re too used to his personality to be offended by it. All you do is laugh, brushing it off without a second thought.

“You know,” you say, in the shittiest imitation of his voice you can manage, throwing his words back at him the way he’s sure you planned to from the beginning, “most people would just say it looks good on me.”

Sae huffs out a laugh, though he still makes a point to roll his eyes at your words. He watches you grin and laugh along with him, taking in the curve of your lips and the flutter of your lashes, and finds himself speaking again, before he can change his mind.

“It does.” It’s hard to say who the confession surprises more— you or himself. He keeps going anyway, even as your laughter fades and your eyes widen. “You look—” It takes him a second to gather himself, the words awkward and stiff coming from his mouth, but just as sincere. “—beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Understandably, the compliment catches you off guard. Sae’s called you many things before —stubborn, ridiculous, dramatic, even shameless— but he’s never called you beautiful. He’s never called anything beautiful, at least not on purpose. You probably didn’t even think it was something he could do.

Maybe that’s why you’re looking at him so strangely now, his words stunning you into silence. He can only hope you know he meant them. Then he notices the shy little smile on your face and the way you wrap his jacket a little tighter around yourself and realizes you already do.

“Thank you.”

Another silence falls between you, different from before. This one is a little more intense, the air between you thick with words left unsaid, but it’s still not uncomfortable, at least not yet. Sae knows it’s true, because when he leans back against the railing, you follow, settling into the space beside him and letting your arm press against his without a hint of regret or awkwardness.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sae.” You don’t look at him when you say it, eyes on the city skyline below you, all the twinkling, faraway lights blanketed by the cover of darkness. Your voice is quieter than he’s used to, but still undoubtedly sincere. “And not because of the gift, or because of the compliment, even though those were nice, too— but because of you.”

That catches him off guard. “Because of me?”

“Yeah, because of you.” You turn to look at him then, all easy smiles and undeniable fondness. “Just you. I mean, obviously you didn’t have to be here, and I know you probably haven’t been enjoying yourself too much, but still, it’s nice.”

“What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?”

“You’re kidding, right? This whole thing is loud music and a big crowd, neither of which you’re fond of. Besides, you told me you hated parties.”

“I don’t hate you.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop them, soft and tender and way too fucking honest. Your eyes widen, even more now than they did when he called you beautiful, and immediately he clears his throat, backtracking. “...I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, so you do hate me, then?”

“What? No, that’s not what I—” He cuts himself off when he catches the smile you try and fail to hide behind your hand, any concern he had about hurting your feelings vanishing as he shoots you a scowl. “Oh, shut up.”

You give up on masking your amusement and begin laughing outright. Normally, the sound would annoy him, especially when done at his expense, but because it’s you, all it does is make him grow more fond, the corners of his lips curling into a smile of his own before he can stop them.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you say, your side pressing against his as you lean in close, whispering like you’re sharing a secret, “I don’t hate you, too.”

It’s nothing like an actual confession, nor can it be considered a real sign that you’ll return his feelings, but Sae hears you say it, watches the way you watch him, and suddenly he knows that if there were ever a time for him to tell you the truth, then this would be it.

But words have never come easily to Sae, so instead of saying it, instead of telling you, he decides to show you.

He brings his hand to your face, cupping your cheek in his palm with a kind of gentleness he didn’t even think himself capable of until now. He swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, his gaze never leaving yours, while you look on, startled by his sudden softness.

He knows as soon as he does it that the way he’s holding you now is something different, something real. He knows you’ll feel it, too, knows it’ll catch you off guard, even if it’s far from the first time he’s touched you. It’s why he isn’t the least bit surprised when your eyes widen, your voice a quiet, stunned murmur as you open your mouth to speak.

“Sae, what are you…”

He doesn’t let you finish that thought, closing what little distance is left between you to press his lips against yours. It’s a softer kiss than he usually goes for, every bit as tender and delicate as the way his hand cradles your cheek and filled with all the sincerity he can manage, all the longing he didn’t even realize he’d been feeling until now.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes fluttering back open to meet his, dazed, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

“What was that for?”

For a moment, Sae has no idea how to respond. You’ve always been the most observant person in the room —it’s how you found out about the ankle he sprained last month, having picked up on the strain in his voice the moment he answered your call— so the fact that you still haven’t realized he’s trying to confess his feelings for you is unexpected, to say the least.

Still, he doesn’t let it deter him, letting the hand he uses to cradle your face speak for him, thumb brushing across your cheek in a way he hopes makes things a little clearer.

“What do you think?”

You don’t answer right away, your eyes locked with his own, stunned and searching. You reach up a hand and place it over the one he has on your face, but your touch is hesitant, unsure— much like your voice is when you speak again.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be thinking right now.”

Sae is trying very hard to be sensitive for you, but he can’t stop himself from frowning at your words. He knew telling you about his feelings —or, in this case, showing you— wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard, either. And though he knows it’s probably unfair of him to think kissing you like this will be enough, your reaction isn’t exactly making him feel any better about it.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve kissed you.”

“Well, yeah, I know that, but you’ve never—” You cut yourself off, brows furrowing as you fix him with a serious look. “You’ve never kissed me like that.”

“Maybe I just didn’t think you could handle it.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Sae knows, not to mention completely at odds with what he’s actually feeling, but it’s what comes out of his mouth, anyway. You frown as soon as he says it, eyes narrowing as you shake your head.

“You’re such a dick, Sae.”

“I know.” He moves his hand and brushes a piece of hair away from your face. You let him, your gaze flickering down to his lips then back up again to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

And though he knows as well as you do that you should say yes, though you have every right to push him away and demand he explain himself properly, all you do is lean in closer, your lips hovering against his as you answer, voice low and deliberate and just a little breathless, “...No.”

He closes the distance at the same time you do, your lips meeting in another kiss that’s as longing and passionate as the first. It’s just as soft, too, soft in the way you still can’t quite make sense of, but that hardly seems to matter to you now as you tilt your head and let yourself become lost in it, one of your hands going up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Then you’re pressing your body against his, your lips moving to nip at his jaw, and it’s all Sae can do to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer, his mouth finding yours once more.

There’s so much more the two of you need to talk about, so much he still has tell you so that you can finally understand the extent of his feelings, but right now, all he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his own and the weight of you in his arms, steady and solid, like it’s where you were meant to be all along.

He lifts a hand to cradle your jaw, and your lips part, tongue sliding against his as he walks the two of you backwards. Your back hits the railing, and you make a needy little sound in the back of your throat that just makes him kiss you harder, one of your legs going up to wrap around his waist.

His lips are halfway down your neck when your phone starts to ring. The two of you ignore it at first, too lost in each other to pay it any real mind, and eventually it stops, just in time for Sae to make his way back up to your lips, his free hand shifting lower to grip at your thigh.

Not even a minute later, the ringing starts back up again, a loud, chiming tone that’s a lot harder to ignore the second time around. Reluctantly, Sae pulls away, though he doesn’t go very far— just enough to meet your eyes, one of his hands still cradling the side of your face.

“You should probably answer that,” he mutters, even as his other hand smooths over the skin of your thigh, his lips hovering just a breath away from your own.

“What?” you ask, dazed and distracted, your eyes still focused on his lips.

“Your phone, dumbass,” he replies, soft and amused, the corners of his mouth curling up at your reaction. “Answer it before your friends start a tequila-fueled search party.”

“Oh, shit— yeah.” The reality of his words spurs you back into action, your eyes widening a fraction as you snap yourself out of your daze. “Good call.”

You work together to untangle yourselves from each other, unwinding your arms from around his neck while Sae guides your leg back to the ground to help you find your footing. When he’s sure you won’t fall, he lets his hands drop and takes a step back, giving you space to answer the call.

You, however, seem to have other plans, your hand shooting out to grab onto the front of his shirt before he can get too far. Your phone is still ringing, even louder now that you’ve pulled it out of your purse, but you don’t seem too concerned about it, your attention focused solely on Sae.

“This’ll be quick,” you reassure him. “So don’t— don’t go anywhere, okay?”

It’s cute, Sae thinks, how earnest you sound when you say it, how serious you look as you ask him to stay. He’s never been good at denying you anything, even before he realized he had feelings for you, and now? Now, it’s the last thing on his mind. “Okay.”

Your expression brightens, lips curling up as you smile, pleased by his response. Then you let go of his shirt and swipe at your phone screen, bringing the device up to your ear.

“Hello?”

There’s a brief pause as you lean against the railing, awaiting a response. Sae doesn’t think much of it, until he hears you speak again.

“Oh, hey, Adrian.”

That’s when the tension in his chest from earlier returns full force, every muscle in Sae’s body locking up the moment your ex-boyfriend’s name leaves your lips. You don’t pick up on it, either, too focused on your conversation to notice the frown on his face or the furrow of his brow.

(He can’t tell if that makes things better or worse.)

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just stepped out for a minute,” you continue, oblivious to the tension in his frame, the scoff he just barely manages to hide. “No, I’m not, I promise— I’m with a friend.”

A friend, you say, as if that’s all you expect from him, all you want him to be. Just a friend, as if everything that’s happened between you tonight doesn’t matter.

Needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with him at all.

Is that why you told him you were okay with him missing your party? Why you looked so surprised when he showed up anyway? Because you wanted to spend the night with your ex-boyfriend instead?

Earlier, Sae thought that the longing and urgency that poured from your lips as you kissed him back meant something, that you could actually want him the way he wants you. Not just as a friend or a hookup or whatever the hell it is you’ve been doing this whole time, but as something more, something real.

He understands now that it was all just wishful thinking on his part, a fantasy he should’ve known better than to indulge. He feels whatever softness you managed to bring out of him fade away, and with it his desire to open his heart and confess his feelings for you.

The logical part of his brain, the part he usually has no trouble listening to, knows he’s overreacting. It isn’t fair of him to assume there’s something going on with you and Adrian just because you answered his phone call, just like it isn’t fair of him to assume you’ll understand his feelings without him actually talking to you about them.

Still, it’s hard to be logical when all Sae can focus on is the churn of his stomach and the ache in his chest as he watches you chat with your ex. It’s a little easier than watching you interact with him in person, Sae supposes, but not by much. He still feels ready to throw up by the end of it, frustrated and annoyed for reasons he still isn’t sure how to explain to you.

Thankfully, you don’t stay on the phone for long. Your conversation with Adrian only lasts a minute or two, and then you’re hanging up the call, tucking your phone back into your purse without any further distractions.

You reach for Sae the moment your hands are free, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. It’s muscle memory for him to open his arms and welcome you, his hands moving to rest at your waist before he can stop himself.

“Now,” you say with a smile, earnest and eager as you lean in close, “where were we?”

You kiss him, then, determined to pick up exactly where you left off, your lips warm and soft as they move against his own. And if it were any other day, then Sae would be kissing you back without a second thought, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you even closer.

But that was before your phone call with Adrian, before you laughed and said Sae was just your friend, right after he kissed you and held you in a way he thought would make it clear that he wanted more than that. Now it’s all he can think about, all that frustration and bitterness he felt earlier —and jealousy, he realizes now, begrudgingly, unfortunately— settling into his chest in the worst way.

It doesn’t take you long to notice his hesitance. You feel his lack of response and pull back, a look of concern on your face as you meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

If Sae were better, more honest, he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you how much he hates the idea of you and your ex reconnecting, how he can’t stand seeing you with Adrian or anyone else for that matter, not because he actually knows him or because he doesn’t trust your judgment, but because he wants you to be with him instead.

But Sae can’t do that. In fact, just the mere thought of putting himself out there, of allowing himself to be that vulnerable without knowing exactly what’s going on inside your head makes him feel like he’s going to be sick, so he doesn’t.

He just shuts down entirely, closing himself off the way he always does whenever he starts feeling more than he knows how to handle. It’s probably the worst thing he can do at this moment, especially when it comes to you, but that’s of little consequence to him when he feels as raw and hopelessly human as he does right now.

“You should get back inside,” is what he tells you instead, distancing himself in the only way he knows how, though it’s the exact opposite of what his heart wants. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

At first, the bitterness in his tone is lost on you. Your lips curve into a smirk, your voice playful and coy as you lower your hands to his neck and tug at the collar of his shirt. “They can wait a little longer.”

You lean in to kiss him again, pulling on his collar so he can meet you halfway, your tongue sliding along his bottom lip. He ends up kissing you back despite himself, parting his lips so your tongue can meet his before he has the chance to think better of it.

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to remember he’s supposed to be distancing himself from you, too lost in the feeling of your lips moving against his to recall why he was so upset in the first place.

Eventually, though, he finds it in himself to pull away, turning his head before you have the chance to kiss him again. “Something tells me Adrian wouldn’t agree with you.”

This time, you do notice the bitterness in his voice. You loosen your grip on his collar, drawing back to give him a funny look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just forget it.” Sae lets his hands drop, releasing his hold on your waist. You’re so caught off guard, you don’t even complain, your own hands falling back down to your sides as he takes a step away from you. “You can leave my jacket with Oliver. I’ll get it from him later.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t bother to hide your confusion at his sudden shift in mood, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving?”

“You said it yourself.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, the smile he sends you wry and humorless. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Yeah, well, neither is being passive aggressive, but you seem to be doing a great job of that right now.” You cross your arms over your chest and frown, your normally relaxed features twisting into a scowl. You’re definitely annoyed by his behavior, but he can see in your eyes that you’re hurt by it, too. He thought seeing that would make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “Why are you being like this, Sae? A minute ago, we were totally fine, and now you’re acting like you’re mad at me or something.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yes, you are, and I want to know why. I mean, all I did was answer one phone call, so why are you acting so— oh. Oh, my god. Is that why you’re mad at me? Because of the phone call?”

Sae turns to scoff at you, acting as if he couldn’t care less, even though the problem is that he very much does. “You really think I give a shit that you spoke to your ex?”

“Why does it matter that he’s my ex?” You tilt your head, then, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until slowly —despite his best efforts— the realization begins to dawn on you. All at once, your confusion disappears, replaced by a wide-eyed, knowing look that makes whatever hope he had of avoiding this conversation vanish. “Itoshi Sae, are you jealous?”

You’re right, of course —frustratingly enough, you kind of always are— but Sae thinks he’d rather chew concrete than admit it, especially when he’s already resigned himself to burying his feelings.

It’s why he kisses his teeth at your words, his lip curling up in disdain. “Tch, you wish.”

“Liar. You’re jealous as hell. In fact, I bet the whole reason you were even out here in the first place is because you saw me dance with him and got all sulky about it. That’s how jealous you are.” You’re confident enough about it to dare to take a step forward, raising an eyebrow as you meet his eyes with an expectant look. “Am I wrong?”

All Sae can do is scowl at you, irritated by both your smugness and the fact that it does nothing to change the way he feels about you. “You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are.”

And because you’re you, of course his words don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything, your satisfaction only grows, your lips curving into a smirk that’s as pleased as it is insufferable. “I still haven’t heard a ‘no.’”

Sae grimaces but remains silent, half because he’s stubborn and half because you aren’t wrong. You’ve always been smart, too smart, really —it’s one of the things he likes most about you— so of course you were able to pick up on his jealousy, despite his attempts at denying it.

He expects you to give him a hard time over it, maybe even chew him out for how immature and ridiculous he’s been acting as a result, but you surprise him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. When he doesn’t push you away, you take that as a sign to continue, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” Your voice is tender and comforting when you speak. There’s a certain seriousness in it, too, a firmness that lets him know how much you mean it. He wishes it didn’t affect him as much as it does. “Adrian and I used to be a thing, sure, but it’s not like that between us anymore. He and I are just friends now.”

“You mean the same way you and I are just friends?”

“Oh, wow, you really are jealous. Is that why you showed up tonight? You wanted to make sure there was nothing going on between me and my ex?”

“It couldn’t matter to me even if there was.” He tries not to sound bitter when he says it, but his efforts are hardly effective, the half-smile he forces tight-lipped and strained, even as he moves his hands to settle on your hips. “It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to be,” you admit, low and honest. And maybe he’s just imagining it, but he swears there’s a hint of disappointment in your voice, too, a sadness he isn’t quite sure how to make sense of. “I mean, back when we started all this, neither of us wanted a relationship. Has that changed?”

It takes all Sae has to keep himself from ripping his own hair out, because haven’t you been paying attention at all? Of course it’s changed. Do you really think he’d be here fighting with himself and agonizing over how to confess to you if it hadn’t?

He wants to tell you as much, can feel the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but his pride keeps him from saying them out loud, at least not until he knows exactly how you feel, too.

“Has it changed for you?”

“Not so fast, hotshot. I asked you first.”

He sighs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” The look you give him is as unapologetic as it is pointed, the sternness in your voice leaving little room for argument. “You almost walked away from me on my birthday, asshole. The least you can do now is answer my question.”

It’s a fair point, he knows, especially after everything he’s put you through tonight, but Sae is nothing if not completely awful when it comes to verbalizing his feelings. He knows it most likely won’t be enough to satisfy you, but he gives your hips a gentle squeeze anyway, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “Isn’t this answer enough?”

“Not even close,” you tell him flatly, every bit as unimpressed as he thought you’d be. “I want you to tell me how you really feel about me. And I want you to say it with your words, not just hold me or kiss me and expect me to read between the lines.”

“Words aren’t really my strong suit,” he mutters, more honest now than he’s been all night, averting his gaze to the floor.

“Try anyway.” You lift a hand and run your fingers through his hair the way you know he likes. It’s disarming enough to have him meeting your gaze once more. Your eyes are soft, searching. Patient, too, despite him, the way you always seem to be. “Come on, Sae. Is it really that hard for you to be honest with me?”

He laughs, though there isn’t any humor to it. “You have no idea.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you okay with me dating other people?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why?”

Sae narrows his eyes, shooting you a flat look, because you know. You have to know. After everything he’s said, everything he’s done, there’s no way you haven’t pieced it together by now. “You already know why.”

“Oh, I do,” you confirm, smug and irritating as ever, smile bright and eyes knowing, “but I want to hear you say it, anyway.” You brush his hair out of his eyes, and he watches as your expression morphs into something softer, something fond and affectionate that makes his heart stutter the way it’s only ever done around you. “For me?”

And though it isn’t easy for him, though it goes against all of his better instincts and is quite possibly the last thing he’s ever wanted to do— for you, he decides to be sincere. “Fine.”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to find the words, urged on by the weight of you in his arms and the tender, encouraging way you’re looking at him. It’s daunting for him to be this honest, not to mention completely unnerving, especially when you both know how bad he is with words in general— but for you, he’s willing to try.

“...I like you. I really, really like you, as in I have feelings for you, and this thing we’ve been doing, this casual, no strings, whatever the hell it is— it’s not enough for me anymore. And I want— I want to be with you. For real, this time, if— if you’ll have me.”

Sae snaps his mouth closed the moment he’s able to get the words out, bracing himself for your reaction. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from you, exactly —rejection, reciprocation, maybe some backwards, nonsensical combination of them both— but he’s determined to be prepared for it regardless, determined to appear unaffected, even if it means he has to grit his teeth to do so.

But then you’re cupping his face in your hands, gaze soft and open and filled with the kind of affection he never once imagined he’d be on the receiving end of, and any notion he had of remaining unaffected is promptly cast aside, replaced by the warmth of your touch and the tender, fond way you look at him.

You lean in, and it’s all Sae can do to close his eyes as you press your lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. The gesture is soft and surprisingly chaste, soft like the way he kissed you earlier, back when he was trying to communicate the extent of his feelings. It doesn’t last very long, but it doesn’t need to, not when he can feel it linger even after you pull away, delicate and deliberate, important in all the ways that matter.

When he opens his eyes, he finds that you’re already looking at him, your lips pulled into that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of. Then you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“I want to be with you, too,” you say, steady and sure, without a hint of regret or uncertainty, and Sae swears something in his chest cracks wide open, every bit of affection he’s ever felt for you pouring out until it’s all he knows, all he can feel. “As way more than just casual. I have for a while now.”

“You have?” The confession catches him off guard, makes his eyes widen a fraction as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze properly. “Since when?”

“Since your away game in France.” You say it naturally, doubtlessly, without any of the hesitation he would’ve had to grapple with to do the same thing. Not for the first time, he finds himself envying how easy you make it look, how effortless it is for you to be so honest and upfront about your feelings. “You were only gone for two weeks, but it felt like ages. Then you showed up to my apartment with pastries from that bakery your manager suggested, and they were amazing, but all I could think about was how happy I was that you were back. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

For a moment, Sae has no idea what to say. His away game in France was almost two months ago. You’ve had feelings for him since back then? If that was the case, then why didn’t you tell him? Had he really made you feel like you couldn’t talk to him about it?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to, but every time I thought about bringing it up, I’d remember what we said about keeping it casual. I figured if I said something, it’d scare you off. And I didn’t— I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t.”

You look down, then, averting your gaze, uncharacteristically nervous as you fidget with the buttons on his shirt. And as Sae watches you standing there in front of him, quiet and apprehensive in a way he’s never seen you before, he wonders if maybe he’s not the only one who’s been reluctant to be vulnerable, after all.

Things would be different if either one of you had said something sooner, he knows. If you’d been brave enough to let the other in. He imagines it would’ve saved you both a lot of time, knowing that it wasn’t just one-sided, that your feelings were returned.

But you’re still here. You both are, and that’s more than enough, he thinks. It’s everything.

(After all, Sae’s never wanted anything the way he wants you.)

It’s why he takes your chin in his hand, urging you to look up at him. For once, you don’t put up much of a fight, your eyes flickering up to meet his own.

That’s when he kisses you, soft and sweet, passionate and patient the way you’ve always been with him, the way he knows you deserve to have returned. He kisses you like he means it, like you have all the time in the world, because right now, you do. He kisses you, and he hopes you feel the promise in it, the one that this time, he won’t hesitate to say out loud.

“You don’t have to worry about losing me, dummy,” he tells you as soon as you break apart for air, breathless and sincere as he presses his forehead against yours. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him, then, knowing how much he means it, bright and beaming as you take his hand in yours and lace your fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” you promise, and the best part is, you don’t.

When the two of you go back inside to rejoin the party, you do it together, your hand tucked securely into his, your fingers intertwined. You’re still wearing his jacket, still smiling at him in that warm, easy way of yours. He knows now for sure it’s something he’ll never get tired of, knows he’s going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future making sure he deserves it.

When your friends see you walk in holding hands with Sae, chaos ensues. Thankfully, the two of you are more than prepared for it, braving their onslaught of wolf-whistles and too-personal questions without missing a beat.

Somehow, Oliver and Aina are the loudest of the bunch, hooting and hollering in matching degrees of shock and excitement, despite already knowing what the two of you have been up to these past few months. Shidou isn’t far behind them, though he does lament Sae’s new taken status. He wraps an arm around each of your shoulders and very seriously offers himself up to the two of you as a willing volunteer for a threesome, should you ever find yourselves in the market for one.

You and Sae take it all in stride, enduring their teasing and answering their least invasive questions until finally you decide to use your birthday authority to put an end to their pestering, declaring in no uncertain terms that they all go back to celebrating. They complain about it, of course, well-meaning and meddlesome as they are, but still they do as you ask, cooing and waggling their eyebrows at you as they take their leave.

“I’m sorry our friends are all unhinged weirdos,” you apologize as soon as everyone else is gone, blunt and serious enough to make Sae laugh. You’re sitting in his lap on the couch, the two of you tucked away in a dark corner of the lounge in an attempt at finding some reprieve from all the chatter and excitement of the night. “And that they have no concept of what it means to mind their own business.”

He hums in acknowledgement, reassuring you with a kiss to your shoulder that there’s nothing you need to apologize for. You smile at the gesture and drape your arm around his shoulders in turn, using your other hand to press your palm against his cheek and make him look up at you.

It’s only then he notices the slight crease in your brow, the worry you’re trying your best to play off with a carefree smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “They didn’t scare you away, did they?”

“Not even close.” He shakes his head and squeezes at your hip, taking your hand in his to press a kiss against your palm. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

“Good.” You wind your fingers through his, that smile he likes —maybe even loves— curving its way onto your lips. Happiness has always been a fickle thing for Sae, floating just outside of his reach, but he sees the way you look at him, feels the warmth of your skin against his, and he knows— it’s here. It’s you. It’s always been you. “I’m glad.”

Yeah, Sae thinks, shifting to meet you halfway as you lean down for his lips, only this time he doesn’t have to worry about hiding or burying his feelings. This time, he doesn’t have to do anything at all except kiss you, the girl he’s wanted for too long, the one he finally gets to call his. So am I.

Written by: Dawn Taglist link

#sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bluelock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #our writing #dawn writes #minors dni

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iconchae · 25 days

Text

DRIVEN BY DESIRE ➽ P.SH | 18+ | MDNI

pairings: non idol au! enemy sunghoon × fem! reader

synopsis: at a bustling party thrown by mutual friends, you and sunghoon are arch-enemies, constantly clashing and exchanging snide remarks. the evening takes an unexpected turn when your friend, who had promised to give you a ride home, drunkenly forgets to take you with her. left stranded, you reluctantly accept sunghoon's offer for a ride, knowing that it's your only option. by the time you reach your destination, the night has taken a surprising turn.

genre: enemies to lovers, smut

warnings: smut so mdni, making out, contains cuss words, nsfw, kisses, not proofread so i'm sorry if there're any mistakes, risky driving, sex in the backseat, a little dirty talk (?), unprotected sex (please don't), a little breast play (?), stroking, little bit fingering (?), everything is consensual!

word count: 5.02k

YOU sat at the far end of the table, nursing a glass of alcohol that you took to down more frequently than you’d admit. The room was a whirl of color and sound, but your focus was zeroed in on Sunghoon, your sworn enemy. His hands were casually draped around Yuna, a vision of charisma and confidence that seemed to make everything around her glow. She was everything you weren't: vibrant, self-assured, and undeniably magnetic.

Yuna’s laughter rang out above the din, mingling with the music and the murmur of conversation. It was clear she was the life of the party, effortlessly captivating everyone around her. Meanwhile, you were the antithesis—quiet, reserved, and content to observe from the sidelines. It was a familiar feeling, one you’d experienced countless times before, but tonight, it stung a bit more

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on the plate of food in front of you. You cut a piece of fish with a little too much enthusiasm, the knife slicing through it with a satisfying squelch. As you popped the morsel into your mouth, the taste was a burst of comfort—a culinary hug for your soul. The fish was seasoned just right, flaky and tender, and you let out a sigh of contentment, momentarily forgetting the party’s chaos.

“Why am I even here?” you muttered to yourself, staring glumly at the half-empty glass of wine in front of you. Your best friend had practically dragged you to this party, her enthusiasm for socializing only matched by your dread of it. Now, as she likely made out with some guy in a dark corner, you were left to your own devices.

As you shoved another piece of fish into your mouth, you could feel the alcohol loosening your tongue and your inhibitions. The room was spinning slightly, but not in a bad way. It was like the alcohol was encouraging you to embrace the absurdity of your situation—stuck at a party you didn’t want to be at, watching your rival play the charming prince.

You glanced over at Sunghoon again. He caught your eye for just a moment before turning back to Yuna, who was now laughing at something he’d said. You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. If nothing else, the situation was somewhat amusing. You were caught in a strange mix of jealousy and reluctant admiration for both Sunghoon and Yuna.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the warmth spread through you. At least you had your fish, your alcohol, and the knowledge that despite the chaos, you’d get through the night. And who knew? Maybe the evening held more surprises than you expected—surprises that could turn your grudging acceptance of the party into something more memorable.

BUT night had taken a turn for the worse. You stood on the sidewalk outside the party, your mood as stormy as the dark clouds gathering overhead. Your best friend, who had promised to be your ride and your guardian for the evening, was now being chauffeured home by a guy you didn’t know, her own car in tow. From what you could see, she was clearly too tipsy to care about anything other than whatever was happening in the backseat.

You huffed angrily as you watched the car pull away, the taillights glowing like the last beacon of hope in the night. It was almost poetic in its cruelty—your friend ditching you in a sea of strangers, leaving you stranded in a party that had long since lost its charm.

You looked around, hoping against hope that an Uber or any form of transportation would magically appear. But the street was as barren as a deserted island, and the more you stared at your phone, the more you felt like you were pleading with a cosmic entity that had long since stopped listening.

“Seriously, where is everyone?” you muttered, glaring at the empty street as if it had personally betrayed you. “Is this some kind of joke? Am I stuck here forever?”

You tried calling a cab, but every time you spoke to the operator, it felt like you were asking for a miracle. “Sorry, no available cabs in your area,” they’d say, as if mocking your predicament. You could practically hear the smirk in their voice as they turned you down for the fifth time.

The party had now turned into a distant, muffled roar behind you, and you felt a wave of frustration that bordered on rage. You’d managed to lose your dignity, your evening, and now your patience. You shot a venomous look at the neon lights of the party’s venue, feeling an irrational hatred for the entire building, as if it had conspired to make your night a disaster.

A group of drunk partygoers stumbled out, their laughter and incoherent babble only adding to your growing irritation. “Can someone please explain how to use a ride-share app to a sober person?” you shouted after them, though they were far too gone to even register your plea.

You paced back and forth, the heels of your shoes clicking sharply against the pavement. Each step felt like a futile march towards an elusive solution. It was as if the universe had conspired to make you wait here, like a comedic twist in a bad sitcom.

YOU stood there, seething in frustration, feeling the cold night air bite at your skin as you glared at Sunghoon’s red luxury car. The sleek vehicle had pulled up just as you were about to surrender to the absurdity of your situation. Of course, he would show up now—of all the possible times, it had to be when you were at your lowest.

The familiar annoyance you felt towards Sunghoon was now amplified by the mix of exhaustion and alcohol. His smirk was like a punch in the gut, and his voice dripped with a patronizing tone that made your blood boil. “Aww, is the little baby scared and alone?” he taunted, leaning against his car with an air of casual mockery.

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of rage and desperation. “Mind your own goddamn business, Sunghoon,” you snapped, your voice more venomous than you intended. The alcohol was making you less guarded, and you felt every bit of your frustration and helplessness spilling out.

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, but there was a glint of something almost genuine in his eyes. “I was just trying to help, but you clearly don’t want my help,” he said, his tone now layered with a semblance of concern that didn’t quite match his usual demeanor.

You didn’t trust him, not for a second. This was the same guy who had made your life a living hell, who had always found a way to criticize and belittle you. The notion of him actually offering help felt like a cruel joke. “You wouldn’t have done that,” you shot back, your voice dripping with suspicion and defiance.

Sunghoon’s face took on an exaggeratedly innocent expression. “I totally would’ve done that,” he said, his tone feigning sincerity as he stepped out of the car and opened the door for you.

You hesitated, your mind racing with doubt. The idea of accepting his help felt like swallowing poison. Why was he being so nice now? What was he plotting? Your instincts screamed that this was just another one of his games, another way to get back at you for the countless times you had crossed paths in the past.

But as you looked around, the reality of your situation hit you hard. The streets were deserted, and the few people left at the party were either too drunk or too indifferent to offer any help. The creeping fear of being left alone in the dark made your hesitation waver. You couldn’t afford to let your pride get in the way if it meant risking your safety.

The thought of something terrible happening, of being vulnerable on a street with nothing but the echoes of drunk laughter in the background, pushed you to accept his offer. You shook off the dark thoughts, focusing on the immediate need to get out of the cold and back to safety.

“Fine,” you muttered, your voice resigned but edged with bitterness. You slid into the passenger seat, the leather of the car’s interior feeling both foreign and oddly comforting. Sunghoon’s car smelled like expensive cologne and polished metal, a sharp contrast to the grime of the street you had been standing on.

As Sunghoon closed the door and got back into the driver’s seat, you could feel his eyes flicker over to you, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. The ride was filled with an awkward silence, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. The hum of the engine was the only sound, a stark reminder of how you had been dragged from one uncomfortable situation into another.

You watched the city lights pass by, your mind a whirlpool of frustration and doubt. It wasn’t just the irritation of the night; it was the realization of having to rely on someone you despised, someone who had always been a source of irritation. The anger simmering within you was a reminder of how out of control you felt, and Sunghoon’s presence was an uninvited reminder of that helplessness.

The drive was a blur of neon lights and silent rage, each turn of the wheel and shift of the gears a stark reminder of your predicament. The closer you got to home, the more your mind raced with questions and doubts. Why had Sunghoon offered to help? Was this his way of getting one up on you, or was there a genuine side to him that you had never seen before?

THE pulsating bass of Sunghoon’s car stereo was like a relentless hammer against your temples, each beat a jarring reminder of how your night had taken a turn for the worse. You tried to focus on the blur of city lights outside the window, but the loud music made it impossible to think straight.

“Can you lower the volume?” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. The headache was starting to take its toll, and the thought of enduring this incessant noise only added to your growing frustration.

Sunghoon glanced at you with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “No. I like it loud,” he said, his tone as unapologetic as it was smug. He seemed to revel in the irritation he was causing you, and it only made you want to slam your head against the window.

Of course he would be like this. You berated yourself internally for letting your guard down and accepting his help. His idea of helping was clearly more about torturing you than offering any genuine assistance. But, despite your better judgment, you had to admit that having a ride was better than standing alone in the cold, so you gritted your teeth and tried to focus on anything but the music.

The car’s interior was filled with the harsh, pounding beats, making your irritation bubble to the surface. And then, as if to add fuel to the fire, Sunghoon decided to poke at an old wound. “Remember the time you slipped and spilled the paint all over the teacher?” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It was fun seeing you get scolded.”

The mention of that incident made your cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. You could vividly recall the mortifying moment when you had been the center of attention for all the wrong reasons. Sunghoon’s mocking tone only served to intensify the humiliation. “Shut up, I’m not in the mood,” you snapped, your voice tinged with frustration.

Sunghoon seemed to take perverse pleasure in pushing your buttons. “Then what mood are you in?” he asked, his tone suddenly shifting to something suggestive. He lowered the volume slightly, and his voice took on a smooth, almost seductive edge that caught you off guard.

“Huh?” Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the pounding music faded into the background. The unexpected shift in Sunghoon’s tone made you feel like you had been thrown into a different, more confusing realm. His suggestive voice was a stark contrast to his previous taunting, and it left you feeling disoriented and vulnerable.

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You seem pretty tense. Maybe I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” he said, his voice carrying an undertone that you couldn’t quite place. It was a mix of playfulness and something more intimate, and it made your heart race despite yourself.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the intensity of the situation making your anxiety spike. The last thing you needed was to be thrown off balance by Sunghoon’s unpredictable behavior. “Why the hell would you speak like that?” you asked, trying to mask the nervousness in your voice. “And why now?”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his gaze focused on the road ahead but with a hint of something almost contemplative in his eyes. “I just thought you might need a distraction,” he said, his tone now softer but still layered with that suggestive edge. “And, honestly, it’s not every day I get to see you flustered like this.”

You were torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and confront him about his strange behavior. The mix of anger, embarrassment, and the odd flutter of something else left you feeling utterly disoriented. “Well, I’m not in the mood for games,” you said, trying to sound resolute despite the churning emotions inside you.

Sunghoon’s smirk remained, though it seemed a bit more subdued. “Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll be good. Just trying to make this ride a bit less painful for you.”

AS the car glided through the rain-slicked streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the windows seemed to create an intimate backdrop, amplifying the charged atmosphere within the vehicle. The rain, combined with the dim glow of streetlights, cast a soft, hazy light over the interior, accentuating the tension between you and Sunghoon.

You were barely holding it together, the sound of the rain mingling with the pulsing beat of your racing heart. The car’s interior felt warmer than usual, and the intimate setting was doing little to quell your unease or the strange stirrings inside you.

Sunghoon drove with an unnerving calm, his focus entirely on the road. But then, something unexpected happened. His hand, which had been casually resting on the gearshift, moved slowly and deliberately to your thigh. The touch was unexpected, his fingers making contact with the skin of your bare thigh, sending a shiver up your spine.

You froze, the initial shock leaving you momentarily speechless. “Sunghoon?” you managed to mutter, your voice laced with confusion and a hint of panic. You turned to look at him, searching his expression for any sign of clarity or apology.

“Hmm?” he replied, his voice nonchalant and almost soothing, as if he was entirely unconcerned about the boundaries he was crossing. His hand continued its slow, deliberate movement, the warmth of his touch contrasting sharply with the chill of the rain outside.

The sensation of his fingers stroking your skin was both electrifying and unsettling. His touch was gentle, almost tender, as his hand moved upwards, pushing the hem of your skirt higher. You were paralyzed by a mix of confusion, discomfort, and a strange, reluctant curiosity.

“What are you doing?” you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to comprehend his actions. The question felt inadequate, given the storm of emotions and sensations swirling inside you.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon said casually, his eyes still fixed on the road. “Just thought you looked pretty tonight.” His fingers continued their delicate exploration, tracing light patterns on your thigh, as if memorizing the feel of your skin.

His words were a strange juxtaposition to the boldness of his actions. The sincerity in his voice contrasted sharply with the intimate nature of his touch. You could feel his fingertips moving in thin lines, each stroke both electrifying and maddeningly soothing.

The sexual tension in the car was almost tangible, mingling with the sound of the rain and the soft hum of the engine. You were caught between the impulse to pull away and the overwhelming desire to lean into his touch, to surrender to the unexpected intimacy he was offering.

Every time you tried to push his hand away, it seemed to defy your attempts, creeping higher and higher under your skirt. The confusion and anger bubbling inside you were overshadowed by the unexpected sensations his touch was creating.

"Sunghoon, stop," you managed to say, your voice strained with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite name. But his hand, persistent and insistent, continued its path, brushing against the fabric of your panties.

The gentle, almost teasing circles he made were creating sensations you couldn't ignore. The unexpected pleasure made you let out a soft, involuntary moan. The sound was muffled by the rain and the music, but it felt as though it had echoed through the confines of the car.

Sunghoon's focus remained firmly on the road, his demeanor casual and almost detached as if this was a normal part of his driving routine. His fingers moved with a deliberate slowness, exploring your most intimate areas with a mix of curiosity and assuredness.

You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions—anger, confusion, and an undeniable physical response to his touch. The contradiction between your frustration and the physical pleasure was disorienting. You struggled to reconcile the image of Sunghoon as your sworn enemy with the sensations he was evoking.

"What are you doing?" you tried to ask again, but your voice faltered as his touch grew more insistent. Each movement of his fingers was calculated, designed to elicit a response from you.

Sunghoon's smirk, barely visible in the dim light, suggested a blend of amusement and confidence. He seemed to be enjoying the control he had over the situation, and the way he maintained his focus on the road while his hand continued its exploration added to the surreal nature of the encounter.

As the car weaves through the night, you can't help but feel your heart pounding in your chest. The alcohol has started to take effect, making your thoughts hazy and your movements sluggish. Suddenly, you feel his hand inside your skirt, cupping your pussy.

Sunghoon's gaze flickers back and forth between the road and your face, a wicked grin playing on his lips. He asks the question with a smolder in his eyes, "how wet would you be by the time we reach if I keep my hand here?"

You let out a soft moan, your face heating up as you try to resist the urge to grind against his hand. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and you can feel the wetness pooling in your panties. You plead with him, "Sunghoon... please.. focus on the road."

But he doesn't listen, keeping his hand in the same position, his fingers pressing against your clit. You can feel his thumb rubbing small circles on your outer lips, sending shivers down your spine. The car swerves slightly, and you gasp, "Sunghoon! Pay attention!"

He chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "I am paying attention," he says, "to both the road and you." His hand moves slightly, and you grasp the door handle tightly, trying to anchor yourself to something as waves of pleasure wash over you. "Sunghoon..."

Suddenly, he removes his hand from your panties, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. You look at him, confused and disappointed, but then he takes one of your hands and places it on the bulge in his pants. "Now focus on me,"

The world outside the car blurs as you focus on the task at hand. The leather of the steering wheel creaks softly under his grip, and he swallows hard as your fingers tentatively grope him through the material of his pants.

Sunghoon's jaw clenches as he concentrates on the road, the muscle twitching slightly. He can feel your hesitant touches through the fabric, and he enjoys the way you're so uncertain, so shy. "That's right," he murmurs, "keep doing that."

The car wobbles slightly as it drives down the road, and you suddenly remember where you are and what you're doing. Your hand pulls away, but he reaches down, grabs your wrist, and brings it back to his crotch. "Don't stop now," he growls.

You tentatively touch him again, feeling the heat and hardness beneath his pants. He sucks in a sharp breath as you gingerly stroke him, and you notice that his knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. "Sunghoon," you whisper, "what if... what if you crash?"

"Then we'll crash together," he replies gruffly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Just keep... keep touching me like that. It feels so good." He takes a hand off the wheel to place it over yours, guiding your movements and pressing your palm more firmly against his erection.

You can feel his breath hitching as you rub him through his pants, your own face flushed with warmth. The car speeds up slightly, and you grip his thigh with your free hand, bracing yourself against the dashboard with the other. "Sunghoon... please, be careful..."

"I'm always careful," he responds, his voice tight with restraint. "Especially when... when I'm driving and... and you're touching me like that." He spreads his legs wider, encouraging you to explore more, and you can feel him hardening even further beneath your touch. "Keep going..."

The scenery outside the window becomes a blur as you focus entirely on Sunghoon, your hand moving rhythmically over his crotch. His hand covers yours, guiding your movements and pressing your palm more firmly against his erection.

THE abandoned road stretched out before the parked car, an eerie silence filling the air. Inside, Sunghoon's hands moved with a sense of urgency as he pinned his sworn enemy beneath him in the back seat. The soft fabric of the skirt and blouse gave way easily under his fingers, revealing the delicate lingerie beneath.

He tore off the bra and shredded the lace of your underwear, baring you to his gaze. A fleeting emotion flickered across his face - a moment of vulnerability amidst the raw desire. He quickly masked it, focusing instead on unbuckling his own belt and unzipping his pants.

Beneath him, you squirmed, your hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders. Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight of his naked form, the powerful muscles sculpted by years of training. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone and your breasts.

The patter of rain against the roof of the car created a soothing rhythm, contrasting with the heated passion inside. Sunghoon's breath was hot against your skin as he continued to kiss and caress you. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, a testament to his arousal.

His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips, your thighs, your back. You moaned softly, your fingers digging into his back. He growled against your neck, his teeth gently scraping against your skin. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your knees to spread you wider.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your ear, his voice barely a whisper.

"I never thought I'd admit that to my enemy." You laughed softly, your arms wrapping around his neck. "And I never thought my enemy would be so gentle," you replied, your voice breathy.

Your lips met in a passionate kiss, tongues dueling for dominance. He moaned against your mouth as you tilted your hips up, seeking more friction. Both of your words were forgotten, replaced with soft sighs and whispered curse words.

The smell of leather and sex filled the car, the dark interior their own private world. His hand slipped into your pussy, his fingers finding your wetness. You gasped at his touch, your head falling back against the headrest.

"You're so ready for me," he whispered hoarsely, his fingers continuing to stroke you. You could only whimper in response, your hands clutching his shoulders tightly. He removed his fingers and aligned himself with your entrance. "Look at me," he commanded.

You met his gaze, their eyes locking in a heated stare. He pushed forward, his length spreading you open as he sank inside you. You both groaned at the sensation, your bodies fitting together perfectly. He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling, before pulling back and pushing forward again.

The car rocked back and forth as he thrust into you, the leather seats creaking in protest. Your back arched off the seat as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against you with each stroke. You were soaked, your juices dripping down his cock and onto the seat.

He reached down and grabbed your thighs, spreading them wider apart to accommodate his thick girth. He picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with brutal force. The car's windows fogged up from your heated breaths and the sweat dripping from your bodies.

"You love it, don't you?" he hissed through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. "Taking your enemy's hard length in the backseat of a car. answering with breathy moans, your hips bucking against his, urging him deeper."

Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as you felt him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. "Fuck, yes!" You screamed, your voice echoing through the car. "I love it! I love taking your cock in public, making you fuck me in the most inappropriate places!"

His face contorted in pleasure as he listened to your dirty words. "Fuck, you're so filthy," he groaned, his hips snapping forward in a frenzy of thrusts. "I'm gonna fill this pussy up with my cum, right here in the backseat."

"Please," you whimpered, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he mercilessly pumped into you. "Please, come inside me. I want to feel you dripping out of me onto these leather seats."

He growled possessively, his arms wrapping around your thighs and lifting your hips off the seat for an even deeper angle. "You're going to be soaking wet and messy by the time I'm done with you."

"Harder!" You demanded, your nails digging into his back. "I want everyone to know we've been messing around in this car." The car filled with the sounds of their slapping flesh, heavy breathing, and the occasional honk from passing cars.

"Your wish is my command," he hissed, his pace quickening until the car shook with the force of his thrusts. "I want every potential driver out there to hear us, to know that my girl is getting stuffed in the backseat."

The smell of sweat and sex filled the car, mixing with the sounds of their heavy breathing. You gasped as he bit your earlobe, his fingers digging into your hips as he drove himself into you again and again. "You're mine," he growled, his voice rough and raw with pleasure.

He brought one hand up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading the tender flesh as he continued to pound into you. "These are mine too," he growled, his fingers toying with your peaks. "I love how they bounce when I thrust into you."

"Yes!" You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, sending tremors of pleasure coursing through your body. "You're going to make me cum,"

"Not yet," he commanded, his voice firm as he pinned your wrists above your head once more. "You're going to wait until I say so." His pace increased, his hips moving like a piston as he drove into you over and over. "Only then will you be allowed to fall apart for me."

You moaned, your head thrown back as you writhed beneath him. Your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts, desperate for release. "Please," you begged, your voice low and husky with desire. "Please let me cum."

"Not until I say," he repeated, his voice firm as he continued to thrust into you. "You're so close, I can feel it. Your body is begging for permission." He grinned wickedly, knowing that he was driving you mad with desire. "Maybe I'll make you beg some more."

"Please," you hissed through gritted teeth, your head thrown back against the seat. "It's too much...I can't...I need..." Your words dissolved into a desperate whimper as he shifted his hips, hitting that spot inside you that drove you wild.

"You can take it," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to come with me, understand? We're going to fall apart together." He increased his pace, his breath hot against your neck as he buried his face in your hair.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. You could feel yourself reaching your peak, your body trembling and twitching as you clung to him with all your strength. "I...I'm there...I'm going to..."

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice firm. You forced your eyes open, gazing into his intense, stormy gaze as he continued to thrust into you, his own face contorted with pleasure. "Together," he grunted, his voice strained. "Now."

And so, with a final cry, they tumbled over the edge together. His body convulsed, his hips jerking against yours as he spilled into you. You shattered around him, your own release washing over you in powerful waves, your limbs going slack as you slumped back against the seat, completely spent.

You both stayed like that for a long moment, your hearts pounding in unison, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the car. Finally, he pulled out of you, his softening length slipping from you trembling opening with a wet sigh.

He collapsed on top of your body on the backseat, his arm draped across your waist as he nuzzled into your neck. "We may have been enemies before," he murmured, "but right now, there's no place I'd rather be than buried inside you."

#kpop smut #enhypen smut imagines #enhypen smut reactions #enhypen smut #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon suggestive #park sunghoon #enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon × reader #enhypen × reader #enhypen

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jasontoddproblems · 2 months

Text

Longest Night (2)

[AK!Jason Todd x Reader]

Word Count: 3062

Summary: You seek shelter at Wayne Tower with Lucius Fox. The Arkham Knight finds what he was looking for.

A/N: Blown away by the responses to chapter one, which I genuinely expected no one to read. Hope you guys enjoy this one just as much!

Chapter One

The Knight was growing restless. No longer content to sit and wait for news in his own office, he took to pacing the main room of the militia’s makeshift headquarters, thoroughly unnerving the rank and file members in the process. They were all skilled fighters of course, well trained by him regardless of where they had been before. The intimidation didn’t come from the Knight’s lethality alone, but from the energy he brought with him into every room. Something cold. Angry. Impatient. Made worse by the expressionless helmet that would hide all possible warning signs should he decide to make an example of someone.

And so every set of shoulders in the room relaxed as a report came through the radios: “Batman sighting, approaching Wayne Tower.”

The Knight came alive, stalking towards the nearest bank of monitors with a speed that seemed uncomfortably inhuman.

“Do not engage. Fall back out of visual range. We need him to make the drop,” the Knight ordered sharply. “Ambush him as he leaves the area, but I want no damage to that tower.”

“Yes, sir.”

Through the CCTV feed, the Knight watched as a patrol detachment of drones dispersed around the surrounding buildings, turning all guns away as if dispersing from the location to increase the search radius.

The Knight nodded, clapping his Sergeant’s shoulder in a rare show of approval before turning away.

“Air transport on the roof, five minutes. Send up the retrieval team. Let’s see if I can teach them how to do their damn jobs.”

***

Your legs were shaky as Batman pulled you out of the car, and you stumbled along obligingly as he continued to guide you forward, tilting your head up to take in your surroundings. You’d tried to keep track of all the turns, but the speed and erratic nature of his driving had you lost within seconds.

Wayne Tower took up your entire field of vision, brightly lit and pristine in a way that clashed violently with the sounds echoing down the street behind you. Breaking glass, gunshots, screams, and loud, brutal laughs. An extra shot of adrenaline jolted through your system.

“What’s happening?” you asked, not quite expecting an answer but hoping for one anyway as you glanced over at Batman.

“War.”

You thought you’d seen a tank out of the back window for half a second, mid high-speed turn, but you’d been so focused on trying not to hyperventilate that it had been easy to tell yourself you were wrong. Apparently not.

“Against who? Scarecrow? I always took him for a… loner type.”

No response.

“C’mon, man,” you sighed impatiently. “I’m not trying to… interfere or whatever it is you’re worried about. But I’m a human being, and we tend to feel better when we know who or what is trying to kill us. Call it a quirk.”

That at least earned you a glance before the glass doors of Wayne Enterprises clicked faintly and slid open for a very well-dressed man with dark skin and guarded eyes.

“Lucius Fox?” Batman asked gruffly.

The man’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but he otherwise kept his expression smoothly neutral.

“Yes. And you would be the young lady that Alfred called me about, I presume?” He put on a polite smile for you, and the gesture slightly eased the knot in your chest.

“That’s me,” you said, “Thanks for your help, Mr. Fox.”

“I think we can do without the formalities under the circumstances,” he said, offering you his arm in a gesture of old-fashioned gallantry that reminded you so strongly of Alfred that you took it without hesitation. “We have met before, you know.”

You blinked in surprise, expression immediately falling as you realized where you may have encountered him.

“Not at the funeral,” he said softly, patting your hand kindly if somewhat awkwardly as he began to lead you inside. “It was a Wayne Foundation Christmas party, I believe.”

You glanced uncertainly behind you, feeling weird about leaving without acknowledging your… unusual transportation method. Batman was already half-turned away, but he offered you a stiff nod in acknowledgment before turning his back completely.

“Umm…” you said distractedly. “Christmas party?”

“I believe you were attempting to keep the Wayne boys in line.”

The memory snapped into place abruptly, you trailing Jason and Dick in the only nice dress you owned, trying to minimize the damage of their combined mischief. Dick had almost certainly downed several glasses of obscenely expensive champagne when no one was looking. Jason, on the other hand, hadn’t needed alcohol to convince him to terrorize the Gotham elite.

But that didn’t mean his brother’s drunken giggles weren’t extremely contagious.

“I didn’t do a very good job though, did I?”

Lucius laughed good-naturedly as he reinstituted the building lockdown at a panel on the lobby wall.

“I’m sure it could have been much worse.”

“Uh oh,” Jason whispered, his gaze snagging on an entirely too-neutral Bruce who was wading through the crowd towards the three of you. “Scatter.”

He gave Dick’s shoulder a shove before taking your hand and dragging you in a chaotic path through the party and out into a side hallway. His eyes stayed fixed on the door for a tense minute.

“Victory” he said on a happy little sigh when the door stayed closed behind you.

You rolled your eyes.

“You know he’ll just yell at you later. And you’ll deserve it. Because you’re being a dick.”

“Am not,” he argued, looking mildly offended. “I’m being a Jason.”

His lips fell into a full pout when you pinched his arm in response.

“Ow.”

“Menace.”

“But are you having fun?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Jason’s smile returned with a vengeance.

“That’s a yes,” he said as he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a heavily jeweled bracelet moments later. “How long until someone notices this missing, you think?”

“Jason! Who did you - ”

“If he didn’t want me to steal it, then he shouldn’t have brought his mistress to our Christmas party. It’s rude.”

You bit your lip, eying the bracelet which probably cost more than everything you owned combined.

“You know you’ll have to give that back, right?”

“I’ll return it,” he promised, bouncing it lightly on his palm as he grinned at you. “To his wife.”

You bit down harder, and Jason’s eyes dropped to the corner of your mouth, laughing as it started to quiver.

“Let it happen,” he said, poking at your cheek. “C’mon now.”

You caved, letting out a quiet giggle that only grew in intensity as Jason cheered.

If Lucius noticed your distant expression or the deep breath you took as you entered the elevator, he mercifully chose not to comment.

“I thought we’d share Mr. Wayne’s office for the evening, if you don’t mind. I take my promises fairly seriously, and I told Alfred I’d keep an eye on you.”

“That’s fine. Is Mr. Wayne there too? I asked Alfred, but he was so focused on getting me somewhere safe, I don’t think he ever answered me.”

“He’s not in the building,” Lucius answered as the elevator doors slid open again to reveal an opulent reception area. “But I’m sure wherever he is is exactly where he wants to be. Billionaires are like that.”

You hummed noncommittally, looking over your new companion with careful interest.

“You’re very good at answering questions without actually giving me any information,” you said, tone light. Not a criticism, just an observation. A trait shared by every member of the Wayne family and that you weren’t particularly surprised to note in those close to them as well.

“Occupational hazard,” he said with a nod, his polite smile never once slipping as he led you into the palatial penthouse office.

The rich, antique decor gave you pause, freezing you in the doorway. It wasn’t what you had been expecting from such a modern building, much better suited to the manor home on the mainland than to the headquarters of a titan of industry. It screamed old money from every corner, and you willed the tightness out of your throat as it triggered memories of a house you hadn’t set foot in in a decade.

“Not exactly to my tastes either.”

Your attention returned to Lucius as he made himself comfortable behind the enormous wooden desk to your right.

“Yeah, it’s… A little much.” You took a breath, trying to refocus. “I need to call Alfred. Could I…?”

You gestured to a subtle door set into the floor-to-ceiling windows, leading out onto a private balcony.

“Of course. We’re high enough up, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Lucius made quick work of scanning your fingerprints into the security panel by the door, giving you access to the system and the ability to unlock and relock doors on your own. After a brief tutorial, you stepped out into the Gotham night air, staying close to the building as aggressive gusts of wind tugged at your hair and clothes. You pulled up Alfred’s contact quickly, crossing one arm protectively across your chest.

“Have you arrived safely?”

“Y’know, I don’t know what’s happened to your manners tonight, but it’s freaking me out a little bit, Alfred. I may even be a little offended.”

“One thousand apologies, madame. On the occasion that your life is not in danger when next we speak, I will be the picture of decorum.” His dry tone made you smile.

“I made it to the tower,” you said, shuffling a step closer to the rail and chancing a peek over the side. “Thank you for pulling a very concerning string to make that happen. Do I get to know how Batman ended up in your debt or…?

“If you arrive promptly at Wayne Manor tomorrow morning for breakfast, I may be persuaded to tell you.”

There was still concern evident in his voice, and you knew the promise he was searching for. You hoped you could keep it.

“Well, if anything can keep me alive, it’s the promise of your scones. I’ll be there.”

“You had better be. Master Bruce keeps me waiting far too often for me to waste patience on anyone else.”

“Is that your subtle way of telling me you’ll refuse to attend my funeral if I die?”

“Certainly not. It is my way of telling you I will arrive with the most atrocious flowers imaginable.”

“Gas station carnations?” you guessed.

“In the most obnoxious shade available.”

An image flickered through your mind, Alfred stoic and steady, face deeply lined with grief, setting a bouquet of white lilacs on the glossy wood of a casket.

“We won’t let it come to that,” you said softly, pressing the phone closer to your ear at the sound of a nearby helicopter.

“No, we will not.”

The conversation ended quickly after that, both of you wanting to conserve as much of your phone battery as possible.

You lingered for a moment on the balcony, enjoying the open space and the chill in the air that helped sharpen your mind. You weren’t good at standing around waiting for something to happen, especially when it was very likely that the something would be bad. But this, what was happening tonight, was on a scale you couldn’t even imagine. Whether you survived the night or not, something big was happening, and Gotham would never be the same.

The helicopter noises had grown louder, then stayed steady, and you wished that whatever the damn thing was doing lurking on the other side of Wayne Tower would finish quickly so it could return to circling the city with the other GCPD choppers you could see throughout the skyline. It was just loud enough to be distracting, and not in the way you needed right now.

But before you could turn away from the city view and head back inside, something large dropped hard and fast onto the balcony in front of you. You stumbled back with a scream, reaching blindly for the doorway behind you as your brain began to process the large and heavily armored man who was pushing up from his crouched position.

Your heart stuttered in a panicked, chaotic beat, and you retreated more quickly, nearly crashing into Lucius who had appeared at the door to drag you back inside.

“Lock it down,” he said sharply, pushing you towards the security panel on the wall as he remained in place, blocking the entrance with a grim expression.

You fumbled with the touch screen, failing once before it finally flashed green and sent the doors sliding shut behind you.

Lucius remained in place, never taking his eyes from the man on the balcony even as you pulled him gently back from the glass.

“Who the hell is that?” you asked, still struggling to catch your breath as you forced yourself to survey the new arrival.

“I have no idea,” Lucius said slowly, his eyes catching on the guns strapped to the man’s thighs.

From the waist down, you might have thought this was a military man, but the illusion was shattered by the heavily reinforced armoring of his chest, shoulders, and arms. Plates of metal, perfectly shaped for protection and maneuverability. That, paired with the oddly familiar shape of his helmet, put him in a new category.

“The helmet… Is he like… a baby bat or something? One of the vigilantes get a makeover?”

“No.”

The answer was surprisingly decisive, leaving no room for argument. You dragged Lucius back another step as the man approached the doors. He moved slowly, calmly, the bright white rectangles of the helmet’s eyes fixed unmoving on the two of you.

“What do we do?”

Before you could get any kind of answer, the man on the balcony raised his hand, tapping lightly on the glass with a single finger.

“What the - ”

“I’m not here to harm either of you,” he said, voice distorted by a modulator in his helmet. “I suggest you open these doors yourself before I have to force my way in.”

The way he held himself, loose joints and relaxed muscles, somehow frightened you even more. He appeared completely confident that regardless of your choices, he would get whatever he came here for.

“Don’t suppose you know of any weapons stashed in here?” you asked quietly, not daring to turn away from the doors.

“I don’t think they’d do us any good anyway.”

“It’s two against one,” you argued weakly.

“I don’t like our chances.” Despite the situation, his voice remained remarkably calm in a way you envied. “But if you’d like to try, I’ll have your back.”

You looked to him in surprise, finding him gazing at you evenly, a stubborn spark in his eyes. Whatever promise Alfred had drawn from him was bigger than simply keeping an eye on you. And he desperately wanted to keep it.

“Diplomacy, it is,” you said, but he caught your arm before you could move towards the security panel.

“I’ll do it. Get behind the desk.”

It was a concentrated effort to keep your pace slow and steady, heart rate jumping as you eyed the man outside, the man you were about to let inside.

Lucius worked efficiently, keeping his body angled between you and the glass doors as they clicked and slid open once again.

“Good choice,” the man said, stepping slowly over the threshold.

“You said you’re not here to harm us. What is it that you do want?”

“Straight to the point, Mr. Fox?”

Lucius froze midstep.

“Do we know each other? Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten your name.”

The sound that crackled through the modulator in response must have been a laugh. A humorless one. Distorted in such a way that it sent goosebumps raising along your arms.

“That doesn’t surprise me. But it doesn’t matter. I came here for her.”

You drew a shaky breath when he pointed at you, half tempted to turn around and search for another explanation.

“Why?” you asked softly. “I don’t - I mean I’m not anyone important, I’m just - ”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted.

You looked helplessly at Lucius, prompting him to speak.

“She has nothing to do with the Batman,” he said firmly. “I know how this looks, but I can assure you - ”

“And Bruce Wayne doesn’t give a shit about me either,” you broke in, finally finding your voice, unsteady as it was. “I’m only here as a favor to a mutual friend. There’s nothing special -”

“Well then it’s a good thing that their opinions don’t matter at all to me,” the man said, impatience creeping into his tone as he approached more quickly.

Lucius stepped smoothly in front of you, and you gripped the back of his jacket tightly.

“Don’t - ”

The man did not slow his approach, coming to a stop mere inches away before leaning further into Lucius’s space.

“I will hurt you if I have to.”

“Don’t,” you whispered again, trying to pull Lucius aside. “It’s not worth it. Just - ”

“I made a promise,” Lucius said simply, matching the other man’s slow, dangerous tone.

“Mr. Fox,” you protested.

“She will be safe.”

You blinked in surprise, looking up to meet the eyes of your would-be captor.

“Pardon me if I have a difficult time believing that.”

But the man was no longer looking at Lucius. He was staring at you. Somehow, you could feel it, through the expressionless face of the helmet. You stared back, numbly, slowly releasing your grip on Lucius’s jacket.

“Can I say goodbye first?”

For the first time, the man seemed at a bit of a loss, quiet for several seconds before answering: “Make it quick.”

He backed away several steps, turning his head away as he tapped the side of his helmet.

Then it was Lucius’s turn to be surprised as you moved around to hug him.

“I can’t let you do this,” he said.

“We chose diplomacy,” you reminded him. “This is the only way to make that plan work.”

“But - ”

“Please don’t tell Alfred,” you whispered urgently. “Bringing me here was his plan, and if something happens to me because of it, he’ll never stop blaming himself. If I don’t make it through the night and you do… Tell him a kinder story. Please.”

You could feel his hesitation, even as he slowly returned the hug.

“Please,” you said again.

“I’ll do what I can.”

****

A/N: Anybody else freaking out? I'm freaking out. Come scream with me

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