#but i got caught up in blocked streets and had to spend nearly another hour walking around while my feet were so cold and painful

[stopmyhearts]

So fucking annoying how little it takes to make me feel absolutely miserable

Today there were a bit too many people it was a bit too loud and too cold and I didn't quite get to leave when I wanted to and now I feel like everything might make me cry

[moonlightmile12]

“My job started in California, where the Stones lived for three months while finishing their album Exile on Main Street. The whole of Los Angeles seemed gripped by Stones fever, and fans were desperately searching for their idols' hideaway. But no one had traced them to Beverly Hills' Stone Canyon, where they all lived on the same block.

My life with them soon settled into an uneasy routine. Cooking itself was no simple matter...I'd be bringing the sauce to the crucial stage when one of the Micks would saunter in and shove a child in my arms. I became an expert one-armed cook.

[Anita Pallenberg] was pregnant with her second child when we met. We quickly became friends and often took long walks in the Canyon, where she would reminisce about the Stones' early days. "Everything was fresh then," she'd say. "We weren't snobby or pretentious and we didn't take on airs. Now the only thing the women are interested in doing is outdressing and outdoing each other."

How right she was - I soon saw many examples of what she meant. The most hilarious was Rose's relentless aping of Bianca. At one time Bianca started wearing riding suits and carrying a little riding crop, which she used to emphasize what she was saying. So Rose got one, too. I was playing on the floor with Chloe once when they both came in - identically dressed. When Bianca started lashing a pillow with her whip, Rose attacked a chair with hers. Bianca never seemed to realize she was being mimicked, and Rose never realized how ridiculous she looked.

Anita's own looks - and Keith's, for that matter - were marred by awful black teeth. This, she explained, was a side effect of heroin. "We've both decided not to have our teeth fixed," she said. "We want to leave something ugly and unglamorous about ourselves to show people like Bianca and Rose we're not trying to fake the agony."

Another thing that took some getting used to was the rolled-up $20 and $50 bills I'd find stuffed in the sofa. I was a bit naïve at the time. Rose had to tell me they were used to snort cocaine. I'd also been finding little piles of what looked like talc, and I'd promptly vacuum them up. When Rose caught me doing this, she said, "Janie, we like you very much, but you're costing us a great deal of money. You just sucked about a gram of coke into the hoover."

Mick Taylor was developing serious problems. He'd walk around the house muttering about his loneliness, worrying that the group was taking over his life. The atmosphere of tension got worse. He would spend hours playing the same riff over and over on the piano, while Rose would march about slamming doors. Once she actually collapsed in my arms, crying about not being married to Mick, anxious about the responsibility of the child.

As bad as the London days were, they were carefree compared to the next stage. To rehearse for their coming tour, the Stones had rented a big, empty movie theater in Geneva. With the exception of Bianca, the whole entourage flew to Switzerland.

Leaving London was especially disastrous for Mick Taylor. Cooped up in a hotel room, he and Rose fought all the time. At one point, Rose took me aside. "Mick has just seen a doctor," she confided, "and we all have to be very careful. He's on the border of a nervous breakdown." That touched me off - I became quite depressed. For the first time, I began to wonder how long I could hold out in this madness. I was getting much too involved in everyone's problems.

For me, the final blow came soon afterward, when Mick Taylor cracked up. One night he took his favorite guitar - the one he'd used for Exile on Main Street - smashed it over a vase of flowers, then spent the rest of the night weeping on the edge of his bed.

It was time to take stock of my life, especially of my life with Chloe. The child was nearly two then, still not talking, and developing the nervous habit of pulling out her short blonde hair. It was apparent that she wasn't seeing enough of her mother, and was getting too attached to me. A few days after Mick smashed his guitar, I said my goodbyes.”

Janie Villiers

[sanomanjiroceo]

Mikey dialed Shin’s number and waited for his brother to answer.

“Hey Mikey,” his brothers voice chirped through the phone. “What’s up?”

“They found something,” he said in a clipped tone. “The little spy I placed inside Obake finally got some information that we can actually use. The name of a higher up. Apparently he was part of the most recent attempt on Bells, the shooting before Christmas.”

Shin swore through the phone. He hadn’t wanted to be involved, not really. When he’d left the Black Dragons for a new generation so many years ago, he’d tried to turn a new leaf and stay on the right side of the law. Most of the time that is. It was easier to clean up the messes of your siblings if you yourself stayed clean. Because of that, he tended to avoid things involving Bonten, which his siblings respected.

This time was different though. His siblings were in danger and there was finally something he could do to help. There was even a chance this man was directly involved in the shooting that nearly killed his sister two months ago. So he would put aside his hesitation to get involved, especially when Shinichiro Sano had a special talent at getting information out of someone.

“Have you already picked him up?” Shin asked, no trace of any emotion in his voice.

Mikey hummed on the other side of the phone. “Yes, they just got him.”

“What’s the address?”

“The shipping warehouse over by the docks,” Mikey replied. “He’s in container 4628. I’m almost there. Call when you arrive and I’ll meet you outside.”

Mikey hung up the phone, revving the engine of his bike and taking off. They’d gone months without a lead, no idea who had the hit out on himself and Bellamy but they may have finally caught a break. The man they’d captured was supposedly one of Obake’s executives. Kidnapping him was dangerous and could spark a gang war, but at this point, Mikey didn’t give a shit. He’d slice down every person in the goddamn gang until there wasn’t a single one left if that’s what it took. The streets would run red by the time he was done.

He took a breath to calm the rage bubbling under his skin as he pulled up to the shipping warehouse and waved to his guards. Mikey didn’t go in, knew that this was something Shin needed to do. If Mikey went in there, the man would be dead within two minutes and they wouldn’t get any information. Shin on the other hand would spend hours in there and hopefully learn something useful.

Shin’s ‘68 Camaro pulled up about fifteen minutes later and the older man stepped out of the car, a large black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He walked up to Mikey, face devoid of all emotion. “He in there?” Mikey nodded. “Have you been in?”

“No,” Mikey replied. “Thought you should go first.”

The corner of Shinichiro’s mouth twisted up into a smirk. “That’s probably for the best. Go on home, I’ll call you when I’m done with him and then he’s all yours.” Shin didn’t say another word as the two guards blocking the entrance to the shipping container stepped aside and allowed him entrance. Mikey stared for a moment before heeding his brothers words and going home. He’d get his turn soon enough.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.5

(Hold up!!! Before you read this, at the bottom I've left links to the first 4 parts. Go read them first, so youve got all the back story.)

((This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

True to your word, you sent him the address later that day.

You agreed to meet up in the afternoon, telling him the meeting up time to meet.

Stolas had suggested a dinner date, but you had turned that down for some reason, telling him you had a better idea.

You had actually asked him on a date.

So happy was he, the rest of the day seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, the owl caught in a blissful haze.

Eventually it was dinner time, where the prince found himself eating alone, again.

He hadn't eaten with his family since, well you know.

He chose something simple.

Leftovers.

Grabbing the plate of last night's roast, he popped them into the microwave.

As he waited for his meal to heat, he quickly scrolled through his phone.

He was checking your voxtigram again, enjoying the collection of photos of you.

As he looked through he found the picture of you and Blitzø, the sight sending a pang of regret through his chest.

It was strange to think, just a day ago, he'd been head over heels for the Imp. Totally infatuated with him, and now... now he knew the truth.

Blitzø saw him as a meal ticket,nothing more.

He was just way to get to the living realm. What an idiot he'd been, a few kind words, a bit of sex there and he was totally under Blitzøs spell. He felt like an idiot.

His eyes shifted to you, and such warmth bloomed through his chest.

But you. You were genuine. You didn't want money or power, you wanted to make him happy.

You wanted to actually spend time with him, he wasn't just a meal ticket to you, he was someone worthy of love an attention.

He knew you weren't in love with him, not yet, but you would be, he'd show you just how worthy he was of your love.

His thoughts were interrupted by his dinner finished heating up.

He ate in silence, Stolas spending the whole time staring at the pictures of you.

After dinner he went for a shower, the hot water cascading down his body, the heat reminding him of the warmth you brought him just a day ago.

His thought slid to his time with you, fantasising about how intimate, how delicate and seductive you'd been.

The complete opposite of Blitzø.

His thighs ground together, his breath picking up as he slid a hand between his thighs.

He imagined you, holding him close, treating him like that delicate work of art, bringing him pleasure he didn't know existed.

Pleasure racked his body, his breathing hitched. And before he knew it, a mind shattering orgasm wracked his body.

After recovering from his little self pleasuring, he cleaned himself up and got out of the shower.

Walking into his room, he fell on his bed, feeling quiet satisfied. Curling up in bed, he fantasied about what the next day could hold for him.

He had a dreamless sleep that night waking up later than he had the morning prior, finding himself again, well rested.

Getting up, he went about his usual morning routine, all the way until he chose his outfit.

You had said something about wine, so did that mean it was more of a fine dining establishment. But you had said a pizza place right? So was it more of a casual, family restaurant.

He spent nearly half an hour thinking it over before he just decided to text you.

Stolas: Is there a dress code for tonight? I'm just picking out my outfit and don't want to come over dressed, I want something that to wow! you.

(Y/N): Hehehe, not really. Pick something casual and probably bring a coat as well, It gets kinda chilly out there at night.

(Y/N): We'll only be staying at the restaurant to eat, then I've got something planned for afterwards elsewhere.

Stolas: Is that so? And what have you got planned, something exciting I hope.

(Y/N): Nu uh, no hints. You'll just have to wait till tonight.

Stolas: Not even a little hint? 🥺🥺🥺

(Y/N): Nope, but I can promise it'll at least be the most romantic thing an Imp has ever done for you.

That kinda stung, bringing many unwanted memories to the forefront of his mind. You quickly texted again,

(Y/N): Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything like that. I just, doubt an Imp like me could match the typical royal date.

Stolas: it's alright, I understand what you meant.

(Y/N): But I can promise it'll be the most romantic thing someone's done with you on a budget.

Stolas actually laughed at that, falling onto his bed like a teenager. The two of you exchanged a little more info, before he finally picked an outfit.

He chose a fairly simple outfit; A stylish pair of jeans, a simple red and black T-shirt with a rather attractive heart pattern across it and then it was one of his favourite leather jackets with a beautiful fur collar

He left the manor grounds just as the sun began to set, the city night-life around the manor already beginning to pick up.

It was a fairly short drive, most people knowing to stay out of the way of a royal limousines.

Finding the street and location you'd described, he had the limo park in front of a rather unassuming building, not really looking any different from the hundred other boarded up buildings on the block.

Getting out, he stood there for a few minutes before he heard you call out. 'Hey good lookin, looking for a good time?' Turning around, he found you approaching.

You carried a simple wicker basket, wearing a humble, yet fitting attire,

You wore a stylish black T-shirt that seemed to just cling to all the right places, your jeans were faded, but not enough to warrant throwing out. And a pair of simple black shoes.

When you got closer, the demon piped up, 'If you were planning a picnic, the basket kind of gives it away.' He told you playfully.

You released a laugh, shaking your head. 'Nah, all that's already set up. I just don't wanna carry everything from here to there by hand.' You told him simply.

'Ooooh' he cood, 'and what is it your getting here, hmm?' He asked, playfully gesturing to the building.

'Oh you know, this and that, you'll be surprised how much they serve here.' You told him just as playful.

Stolas stood up before looking around, 'Speaking of what they serve here', I can't help but wonder where "here" is, this doesn't exactly look like a restaurant.' He told you, gesturing to the rather dull wall of buildings before you.

You just chuckled, looking up at the prince before telling him, 'Dont judge a book by its cover, dear prince of mine' you told him playfully.

You hadn't realised it, but when you called him yours, it sent a wave of euphoria through the owl that he simply couldn't describe.

His mind was addled, the owl clutched himself as he watched you speak, to caught up in this feeling to catch what you said.

He was snapped from his stupor, when he found you were looking up at him, seemingly expecting a response.

The owl panicked, snapping to attention and blurting out, 'Of course, words to live by,' before he just stood there, smiling like an idiot.

You stared at him for several moments, the awkwardness so palpable you could practically see it in the air.

After another moment, Stolas shook his head, 'S-sorry, uh, what was that last thing?' He asked, trying to salvage the situation.

You chuckled, shaking your head, 'nothin, let's go shall we?' You asked him, stepping forward.

He followed close behind, following you into a nearby alleyway.

He followed in silence, but as your path grew longer he decided to ask where you were going. Only for you to suddenly stop and turn towards a large metal shudder.

Looking up at him, you did a little knock on the shudder, before just standing there.

A few minutes pass by before Stolas whispered, 'what are we waiting for?'

You laughed at that, before telling him, 'He always takes a minute to get here... any second now.'

A few seconds go by, just as Stolas was gonna pipe up again, the shudder suddenly shot up, revealing an middle aged Imp carrying a shotgun.

The Imp stared at him for a few moments before looking down and spotting you, 'Oh (Y/n)! Didnt expect you so early.' He told you, lowering the shotgun, 'who's the string bean?' He asked bluntly.

You just laughed as Stolas became indignant, looking himself up and down before asking himself if he really look like a string bean?

''This is my...' you hesitated for a moment, the owl held his breath, waiting for you to finish the sentence

'... my date' you finished, 'this is my date "Prince" Stolas.' You told him firmly, enough pride in your voice to make Stolas flush.

The Imp looked him up and down, 'A prince huh? Damn (Y/n), really pickin up your game' The older Imp gave you a rather lecherous grin.

You scoffed, stepping forward and asking 'Can we come in or are we just gonna stand around talking all night?'

The elder Imp just huffed before stepping out of the way.

The two of you walked into a somewhat narrow stairwell, the prince having to crouch walk to squeeze in there.

'Sorry 'bout the tight fit there your highness, we usually only get Imps down here, it'll be more roomy downstairs.' The old Imp spoke up as they made there way down the stairs.

Stolas chose not to reply, choosing instead to just take it in stride.

It was another minute of walking down the cramped stairwell when they suddenly entered a much larger chamber, the owl able to stand up.

Once he'd stretched his back, Stolas got a good look around, and found himself transfixed by the splendour of the place.

Honestly the place could probably give most of the restaurants he'd been too a run for there money.

It was a large hall, clearly some old structure with black bricks making up most of the walls.

A number of quaint little lanterns hung from the roof giving the whole chamber a pleasantly dim atmosphere.

A series of tables filled the centre of the chamber, each one decked in a cloth, with its very own candle lit center piece.

The architecture created smaller arches along the walls, many of them gave way to small booths where other Imps were enjoying there meal. While others were filled in by wine wracks, each one filled with a variety of bottles.

'My it's... it's...' before Stolas could finish, you cut in, 'yeah... I know, it's not exactly the rits, but for an Imp run business, it's pretty sophisticated.' You seemed disappointed, likely having interpreting his stunned silence as disappointment.

Stolas quickly cleared that up, telling you 'it's beautiful, I've never seen a place like it.' He told you honestly.

Looking down he found you positively beaming.

Reaching out, you grabbed his hand. You dragged him along like an excited child, taking him to what was obviously the front desk.

Placing the wicker basket on top the counter, you binged the bell.

A moment passed before a shorter and clearly much older Imp walked out. Upon seeing you there face lit up, 'Oh (Y/N), so good to see you.' They said cheerfully, pulling out a medium leather bound book from under the counter, they looked up and said, 'Lets see. Ah! Here you are. One table. A high ceiling and a strong bottle, correct?' They asked pleasantly.

You just nodded, them quickly putting the book away and began leading you away.

He found himself led into another chamber, this one much smaller but still just as pleasant.

In this one, a quaint little chandelier, giving the room a pleasant warm glow.

The older Imp quickly left, promising to bring menu's upon his return.

You led him in 'Beautiful place, isn't it?' You asked, seeming a hundred miles away.

'It is' He agreed, never taking his eyes off of you.

It took a few moments, but eventually you locked eyes, a smile growing across your lips.

After a moment, you seemed to snap back to reality, quickly walking over and pulling out one of the chairs, 'Your highness' you told him, an almost seductive tone to your voice.

'Such a gentleman' he spoke playfully, taking his seat.

Pushing him in, you walked around and took your seat.

Sitting down, you leaned forward, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment, neither of you sure what to say.

Eventually you spoke up, 'Can... can I ask you something?' You asked hesitantly.

Stolas, seeing the mood shift, leaned forward, responding with 'of course you can... what is it?'

You took a moment, placing your mouth behind your balled fist, 'I just... I just want to know... What is this?' You asked somberly.

That took him off guard, 'I, uh... I thought this was a date,' he tried to lighten the mood.

You did smile at that, but it was short lived, the sombre look returning.

'No... I mean like, you and me. What is this?' You asked him.

Stolas found himself at a loss.

What were you?

This was a date, wasn't it? So that would make you a potential couple? But he was already married... so, what the hell did that make you?

He sat there for longer than he'd like without an answer, before he felt he just had to say something. 'I don't... I don't know.' He told you honestly.

'I mean, this is a date? And I uh...' He didn't know were to go.

Out of options, he decided to do something that hadn't gone the best for him lately, but with you he felt it would be his best course to take.

He was gonna go with his gut.

'I want there to be something.' He told you, 'You make me feel like... like I deserve to be loved. Like I can be loved... Something I haven't felt in quiet a while.'

'I haven't felt like I really deserve anything in... Hell.... Decades?' He was tearing up now, his voice thick with emotion, 'I don't know if I deserve love, (Y/N).'

'I only ever seem to end up hurting the people I care about.' Tears formed in his eyes, the owl gripped his head, 'Lately I feel like a curse. Like I can only bring pain and misery to those around me... and after what I've done, I can't help but feel I deserve it.'

He looked up at you, a little smile across his face, 'But you... you make me feel like... like someone cares about me... Like someone cares about what I want. And you don't want anything from me... your not just using me as a means to an end... You care about me.' He was shaking now, a gentle tear sliding down his cheek.

He sat there for a moment, on the brink of tears, just as he felt you grab his hand.

Looking down he found you gently grasping his hand. You slowly inspected it, gently running your fingers along the long slender digits.

'You know...' you began, unease in your voice. 'I had no idea what I was doing, that first time.'

'I wanted to cheer you up, make you smile.' You let out a little chuckle, 'And as cliché as it might sound, I could tell you just wanted someone to love you, to make you feel something.' you smiled up at him.

'I knew you needed some kind of affection and I... I couldn't just let you sit there, drowning in despair. So I did it, I gave you the love you needed' You told him, your voice getting a little unbalanced.

You looked up at him, your throat tightening and voice becoming shaky, 'And if after that first time together... I after what we did... you had said you wanted to just pretend like nothing happened. I would have accepted it. I could have accepted that.' You told him firmly.

'Theres so much misery around me, so many suffering for no real reason. So if I could make you happy, even for just a moment. I'd be happy.' A smile spreading across your face.

'I don't know what's gonna happen next.' You told him. 'And I don't know what's gonna happen next.'

Your voice grew firmer, as did your resolve. 'But I wanna get closer to you and you wanna get closer to me. So how's about we just... see where this goes?' You asked him.

Stolas was a little shocked, 'You... you'd really do that, just give it a shot, to be with me?' He asked incredulously.

You just nodded your head, a little smile across your face, 'I... I wanna be with you Stolas, if that's alright with you?' You asked almost playfully.

Stolas couldn't help but laugh, vigorously nodding his head, 'Yes, Yes, a thousand times Yes.' He told you getting to his feet.

His emense height allowing him to lean over the table, locking you into a passionate kiss.

The Owl couldn't help it, he pressed into the kiss, so much so he was scared he might hurt your lips.

But he just couldn't help it, he was feeling such passion right now, all he could think to do was get as close to you as possible.

Hey Hey. Doing some old stories now. I've got so many requests I think I'll just relax a little, do them at my own pace.

This is the 5th part of my series Here's the link to my other chapters

OBSESSIVE STOLAS X Male Imp Pt.1

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp Pt.2

OBSESSIVE STOLAS X Male Imp Pt.3

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

so check that out. I'm gonna be doing some more of my own original works lately, but feel free to leave a request, just don't expect me to get to it any time soon. Any way, hope you enjoyed the story. Bye Bye.

[anotherwritersblog]

Title: Bonfire

Pairings: College!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, drinking, language, feelings

Author's Note: I hate writing long pieces because I always feel like I'm rambling and just go on tangents. But I thought this was cute and reminded me of my bonfire days. Happy Sunday 💖 Mistakes are my own.

Any and all reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated.

In no way, shape, or form, do you have permission to repost this anywhere

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

bon•fire

/’bän,fī(ə)r/

noun

1. a large open-air fire used as part of a celebration, for burning trash, or as a signal.

2. an excuse to cozy up to an old friend and possibly spill any pent of feelings for each other.

3. sweet. sticky. s'mores.

It was that time of year where the Barnes family threw their annual bonfire celebration. Everyone on the street was always invited, whether new neighbors or old. Parents usually stayed inside while the kids hung out by the fire. Those “kids” from the block were now seniors in college this year, so instead of sipping grape juice like years past, they were excited to finally be able to sip fermented grape juice.

Everyone was excited to finally have the next few weeks off to relax. Maybe pick up a few shifts to make some extra money to get through the holidays. Spend time with their loved ones and friends.

But you?

You had other plans.

Those plans involved your bed, five hundred and four hours of sleep, and binge watching on one of your several streaming services.

“Hey! You made it!” pulled from these exciting thoughts, you turned to see your best friend from third grade call your name.

“Of course I did, Buck,” you replied with a grin. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” You hugged his neck as he picked you up to twirl you around.

“Did you bring the good stuff?” he whispered, placing your feet back on the ground.

“Are you kidding me? I am the one keeping this party alive! Everything is in the basket by the table. It’s enough flash cards, notes, and reading materials to keep the fire going for another five hours!”

“It pays off to know a nerd,” his signature, sly smile slipped onto his face, but you just rolled your eyes and sipped that sweet juice from your glass. “Ran into Steve earlier. He asked if you were coming tonight.”

That comment caught you off guard, almost leaving you to choke on your wine. “I’m sorry, who did?” you looked at Bucky to make sure you had heard the name correctly.

“Is that my bright Sunshine you’re talking to, Bucky?” you turned to see Steve walking up with a beer in one hand and another glass in the other.

“Steve!” you nearly ran into his arms, but he was careful not to spill anything on you.

You had met Steve with Bucky when you were in fifth grade. You and Buck were walking around at recess when you saw this new kid getting hit repeatedly. No one was doing anything, so you stepped in and punched the bully’s back to get his attention. You had caught him off guard, so when he turned around, your fist made contact with his eye and he fell to the ground. He started to cry and before you could throw a third punch in, Bucky was holding you back. Of course, you were the one to get punished for all of this, but you slowly gained a new friend from it.

Steve was a goody-two shoes who got on your nerves from time to time, as he was like your own personal Jiminy Cricket, always trying to keep you and Bucky out of trouble. You only tolerated him to begin with because he was Bucky’s second, best friend (your words, and you made sure he knew it) but you appreciated the fact that you had another friend to talk to when Bucky wasn’t at school or needed someone to break a tie. You never noticed how Steve always took your side in those situations.

As you three grew older, that boyish look they both had turned into “holy mother of god, they’re actually hot now” (another set of words you may have let slip to your roommate after downing a bottle of Chardonnay to curb your midterm anxieties). While you always loved Bucky for being your first friend, you slowly learned to love Steve too. But that love was a little different.

That love blossomed into a crush when you hit your senior year of high school. Everyone came back taller, hotter, and ready to break hearts. Including Steve.

While you watched from afar all the junior and senior girls that would fall for him and Bucky, you were never really jealous, because at the end of the day, you knew that they were your boys. Bucky never piqued your interest because the love you had for him was that of a “brother-you-never-had”. You friend-zoned his ass so fast in third grade, you didn’t even know the term until you two were much, much older.

Steve on the other hand.

His dirty blond hair had turned brown that summer, and his body gained muscle you didn’t know existed. It was a sight you enjoyed running into every day. What really caught your eye was the confidence he had exuding from this newly appreciated body of his though. Where it came from? You weren’t sure, but it attracted you like a moth to a flame.

A flame that never died down, only pushed to the side and ignored for several years.

As you step back to admire the facial hair he’d started to grow, Bucky grabbed the glass in your hand to down the last sip and walk away. Before you could protest, it was quickly replaced by the one in Steve’s.

“How have you been, Sunshine? It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you,” Steve asked, as you two moved closer to the roaring fire.

“I’ve been good. Been applying for a couple of jobs already, some of which are looking promising,” you replied, sipping from your glass.

“I hope nothing too far. My days would be gray and bleak without my Sunshine around.” You felt him nudge your arm with his, and you couldn’t tell if the warmth in your cheeks was from the fire or the words that just fell from his lips.

Those feelings you’d hidden away all those years ago, began to bubble back up. You tried pushing them back down as quick as you could, but the thought that there was any possibility they could be reciprocated? It made you shiver, which did not go unnoticed.

“You getting cold, Sunshine? You’re jacket not heavy enough?” Steve watched as thoughts danced through that beautiful mind of yours.

“No, I’m fine. I just-” before you could finish your sentence, Steve was slipping his jacket off and around your shoulders. He dawned a nice leather jacket underneath, so you didn’t protest the actions.

“You know what always seems to warm me up, Sunshine?” He questioned, as he wrapped his arm around you, creating friction between your arm, his hand, and possibly your thighs. His touch was almost electrifying, and although this isn’t the first time he’s placed his hands on you, the glasses you’ve had seemed to have magnified the touch.

You shook your head, lost with how to respond, and only focusing on the way his hand pulled you a little closer to him. He leaned in close, his lips near the shell of your ear, and whispered a simple s'mores. The short breath that breezed by sent another shiver down your spine.

You two walked over to the little station with all of the materials needed to make the snack you knew would curb any hunger you had in your body, whether for actual food or the snack standing tall next to you.

Steve grabbed two metal skewers and placed a couple of marshmallows on each. He handed you one and you both found yourself a nice, little secluded spot back by the bonfire. You could hear the chatter from the small groups of young adults spread about the yard, while Steve kept his eyes on you.

You were always the light of his life, and he knew it the moment he met you in fifth grade. Some little bully had picked on Steve the first day at his new school. Steve was a scrawny kid growing up, so he was an easy target. Thank the sun though, you and Bucky were walking by at the right time. Before Bucky could say or do anything, you had jumped in and threw a few swings of your own. This not only gave the bully a black eye, but it caused you to be suspended from school for two days. Steve had felt so bad about it, but you were unphased.

The few days you were out, he got to know Bucky more and they hit it off instantly. Bucky loved you, but it was nice to be able to talk about boy things with another boy. That weekend, he invited Steve to spend the night at his place. He would’ve invited you, but your mom had grounded you for a week. What you had done was “un-lady-like”.

While the boys enjoyed running around outside and staying up late playing video games, it was when both were laying down in the dark, Bucky in his bed, and Steve in his sleeping bag, that Steve became curious.

“Can I ask you a question, Bucky?”

“Sure, Steve.”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Eww. No. That’s gross. She’s my best friend.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Why, do you?”

“Eww. No. That’s gross. Girls have cooties.” Although in his mind, he knew you in particular didn’t, but he wouldn’t let Bucky know that any time soon.

This little conversation between the boys was visited again in high school, during your senior year. You were away for the weekend, visiting the school you would later be accepted to, when Steve spent yet another night at Bucky’s.

Once the lights were out, and after rustling around in his make-shift bed of pillows and blankets on the floor, Steve opened his mouth again.

“Can I ask you a question, Bucky?”

“Sure, Steve.”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Dude. No. She’s like a little sister to me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Why, do you?”

“Dude. No. She’s not that interesting.” Although in his mind, you were the most interesting girl he’d ever met. All those juniors and seniors that would pine for his attention, were nothing compared to the beauty and brains you were. It’s true that he’d become a heart breaker that year, but he would never dream in a million years to ever break yours.

This little conversation between the boys was visited one last time.

Two days before the bonfire.

Steve had finished his finals early, so he would spend the next few days at Bucky’s to help prepare for the party. After running errands, enjoying a home cooked meal, and settling into the bed, both were laying on their backs staring at the ceiling. The fan was running in circles, thoughts prancing through their heads when the silence was finally broken.

“Can I ask you a question, Steve?”

“Sure, Buck.”

“When are you finally going to admit that you like Y/N?”

Time stood still as Steve pondered Bucky’s question. Well, he didn’t actually have to ponder it, because he’s known all along how he’s felt about you, he was just afraid to say it out loud.

“I know you do, Steve. I guess I’m just ready for you to admit it to yourself and actually do something about it. She’ll be here this weekend, and with this time off, I think it’d be a good time to do it. To tell her.”

“How…how do you know?” Steve sat up and stared at the body laid next to him.

Bucky had his hands behind his head, glancing over at his other best friend. “Duh. I’ve known since we were kids. You’ve never been good at hiding the lost puppy look whenever she’s around and you’ve always taken her side. I just figured that you come to terms with it now and take initiative.”

Steve was a little surprised by all this. “I thought you would’ve been mad. I’ve seen what you’ve done to those other boys that always hit on her. I didn’t want to be another punching bag.”

“That’s because if she was to be with anyone, I’d rather it be you. I know you’d take good care of her, and you know that she’d kick your ass before I got to it if you ever screwed up,” he snickered.

“Yeah…yeah. You’re right about that,” Steve chuckled, slipping back into the bed. He’d stayed up all night thinking of how he was going to admit these feelings for you at the bonfire.

The bonfire where he’d gotten lost in thought of these memories.

You had been enjoying the comfortable silence, when you glanced over to see Steve’s eyes laid on you. He was looking at you with the adoration he’d always done so with, and you returned the look. That is, until you noticed the mini fire set ablaze on his skewer. Those sweet, fluffy marshmallows were now charred and crispy.

“Steven!” You gasped, repeatedly smacking his arm to get his attention. He looked to where your eyes were focused and let go of a few expletives, before throwing it on the ground and stomping out the fire. You were giggling as he looked your way with embarrassment.

“Good thing you put two on mine, Steve. You can have one of them,” you grinned, not letting him know you had caught his staring.

You both made your way to grab the plate of crackers and chocolate needed to make the rest of the snack. After finding a couple of unoccupied chairs, Steve got to work on making his infamous s’mores. He informed you that he’d do it, but he really just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t accidently burn yourself touching the still hot skewer.

Once crafted, Steve handed you yours and you were quick to indulge.

It was like sex in your mouth, it was so decadent. The moan you let out sent a feeling between Steve’s legs, and he shifted to try and curb the discomfort. Thankfully, you were too occupied with the s’more to notice.

“Fucking hell, Steve. You’ve been holding out on me this whole time! What else are you hiding?”

Steve took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“My feelings for you.”

Your heart stopped for a split second and you glanced at the man beside you. “Your…feelings?”

“Yes. I like you. I’ve always liked you. Since the day you beat up the little jerk in fifth grade and got suspended for me. I knew I liked you then and those feelings only grew the more we started to hang out and I guess I was just always afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same way or that Bucky would-” his sentence was cut short when you reached over to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek.

All words ceased to exist, and the little wires in his brain started to short-circuit. You noticed this and giggled at the expression on his face. “I’ve always liked you too, Steve,” you mumbled, reaching your hand to caress his cheek. Your fingers were cold to the touch, but soon thawed out when meeting the warmth of his face.

“You have?” looking into your eyes for a confirmation that he was, indeed, not dreaming.

“I have.”

He looked at you with a grin so wide on his face, you’d think he was the Cheshire cat.

“Can I ask you a question, Y/N?”

“Sure, Steve.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. You can kiss me, Steve.”

He stood and pulled you up towards him from the chair. Your hands snaked around his waist, beneath his leather jacket, while his cupped your chilled cheeks. He felt the sparks flying when his lips landed on yours and reveled in the moment he’d been dreaming of forever. He slid his tongue against your lips, tasting the sweetness you just indulged, mixed with the couple of glasses you’d nursed over the night.

Before you could welcome his tongue into your mouth, you both jumped when you heard a “Finally!” shouted from behind. You both turned to see Bucky running towards you and pulled you both into a group hug. Your head was on his chest, while Steve’s reached Bucky’s neck. “About damn time, you two!”

You grinned up at Steve and reached for his hand.

About damn time indeed.

[bloodycassian]

Coffee date - reader x Cassian

The pounding on your bedroom door came much too early. You groaned and rolled over in bed, hoping the waiting Illyrian outside would go away. The knock came again, even louder than last time. You cracked open an eye and glanced to the balcony. Still dark out. Not a hint of dawn rising soon. 

"Five minutes or I'm coming in after you." Cassian's voice rumbled. You groaned yet again, and you could have swore you hear a soft chuckle as he walked away from the door.

+

He didn't want to be up either, but he reminded himself to stay strong against the temptation of going back to bed. To resist the temptation of allowing you to stay so catatonic. He tried not to pace in the dining room while he waited. He didn't want to look ruffled by you. He had to remain professional. 

The soft scuff of a boot on the hard marble floor drew a smile from him. "That was eight minutes."

"So?" You muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

He waved you over to the balcony, preparing to depart. You could tell the day would be cold, just from the slight haze over the setting moon. "That means you get to do some extra pushups to start the day." He encouraged, wrapping an arm around your middle before you could protest. He took off with a gentleness he graced you with every morning. It was considerate of him. 

He tried not to lean into the warmth of your body, tried not to think of the sweet scent of your hair. He couldn't deny he enjoyed the closeness of your body though. He just tried not to let it show. Especially when he saw you in the tight leathers that you'd grown into better since you started training. 

"straighten your back more." He instructed, then demonstrated himself the proper position for the pushup. You watched, trying not to pant from the exertion. His hair kissed the ground with each lift and fall of his body. His siphons glowed happily in the darkness. 

The soft lights around the training ring cast his hair and wings in a perfect shade of black. His breathing became more labored, slipping into a pattern he was used to after so many centuries of training and battle. His grunt when he sat back up made your cheeks redden. 

He pushed his hair back and gave you a nod. You continue with improved form, and tried not to slack for the session.

+

By the time he was done with the two hour session, you were sweating through your tunic in the morning sunlight. You had taken off the leathers when the sun had risen, welcoming the cool kiss of the dewey fog against your skin while he worked with you.

He had only removed his once you moved on to the last part of the training session. Hand to hand combat. It always made you the most nervous, but you knew he would never actually follow through with anything that may hurt you. 

Still, you pulled your punches when you aimed at him with more critical moves. He gave you a warning glare but continued with you, moving together like a violent dance of hands and feet and grunting. 

"Let me take you to get a coffee."

"I drink tea-

"Tea then." He blocked your punch and held your fist in his calloused yet soft hand. He squeezed slightly, and gave you a wolfish grin. You swooped your leg out to take down his legs, but his other hand caught your calf easily. He knew your moves, that was true. 

He pulled you towards him slightly, forcing you to hop forward on one foot. He laughed and released you, and you found you were just a slight amount too close. You could feel the heat and energy radiating from him. It was easy touching distance to be able to wrap yourself around him if you wanted.

"Why would I go to tea with you?" You crossed your arms over your chest and stepped back before the thoughts of him could take over. 

"Because I want to. And maybe it'll get your next lesson time reduced." He waggled his eyebrows at you.

"When?" You relented.

"Now?" He asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at your lack of argument. 

"I can't, I'm working in the library after this."

"Tomorrow. No training, we'll go to that shop down the street from Rita's."

Damn him. You couldn't give up the chance at skipping training for a day. You gave him a nod, which he returned with a bright smile. 

+

You nervously picked your outfit. Not too dressy, not too casual though. He showed up early and you threw on a billowing top that accentuated your collarbones. 

And his breath left him when he saw you. The slight amount of styling, that still looked natural on you. The way you still moved with the grace of a warrior well trained could have sent him into a frenzy. He held back though, keeping those primal urges at bay. Instead, he offered his hand in a low bow, and when you placed yours in his… he kissed it with the softest lips you’d ever felt. 

A thrill ran through you, and you tried not to look at him while he rose again. Towering above you, not in a threatening way, but in a protective way that made you feel safe around him. He offered his arm, and led you to the balcony.

+

The cafe was nearly empty when you arrived. And it smelled delicious. 

“I thought you only drank tea.”

“I made an exception for you.” you took a slow sip of the steaming cup and nearly moaned at the long forgotten taste of it. The hints of chocolate and nutty tones. Cassian knew he was staring, but mother above how could he not? The sound you’d made alone nearly got him half hard under the table. He clutched his own cup for dear life, fighting every urge thata screamed at him to take you away with him that instant. 

After a moment of enjoying the soft background noises and the wonderful sunrise together, you had to break the illusion that this was anything more than a friendly breakfast. “What are we here for, Cas?” You sighed.

He knew what you meant. He’d prepared for this question. And he still didn’t know what to say, despite his hours deliberating in his head. “I just… wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Why?”

Because you’re the one person that’s made him feel the most alive in five centuries. You’re the one that he pictured holding his children at night. The one that made him suffer every day of doubt and worry wondering if you felt that connection too. “Because I think you’re interesting.” He said with a sly eyeroll. 

You stirred your drink slowly, watching the swirling milk and froth mix together in harmony. “What if I said I’m not?” You asked, not looking up to him yet. You didn’t want to see the reaction there.

“I’d call you a liar. And a bad one.” He sipped his drink when you scowled at him. Before he could make the situation more complicated you had to end it. You had to keep him at bay. If he were to solidify this bond you felt deep inside your soul... you knew he would die defending you from the ones that hunted you.

It was exactly why he’d insisted on training you. 

“Cass- we can’t do this. We cant be seen like this… People will get ideas and-”

“Like what? Two friends having coffee?” 

The words stung, and that was the moment you knew you wanted whatever this was. Whatever that bond was with him...you wanted it to yourself. You wanted to embrace it and hold it close, hold him close. Your foot tapped impatiently on the floor, nerves kicking up. 

“It’s not smart to pursue this… there’s a kill order for me, and Tamlin has made sure that all courts know. It’s not safe..”

“Screw Tamlin, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” His voice raised an octave, and his hands clenched on the table. He struggled not to grip yours. He bit back on his temper at the mention of the male’s name. As if he didn’t have reason enough already to kill him. Putting the hit out for you was a petty blow, and every court knew it. 

You couldn’t argue with his words. You were safe in Velaris, you knew that. But the paranoia still lingered. You sighed and looked out the large window. Several fae of different colors and features bustled by. They seemed happy. Sure, some seemed rushed to get to one place or another, but… they were all seemingly content. 

“Forget about all of it, okay? If you’re not safe then I’m not either.” He defiantly pushed out his chest a bit, making you smile. 

“Are you saying you’re my bodyguard now?” 

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” His voice dropped low, and his wink made your cheeks red.

[rosiehunterwolf]

stuck with you (through bright and blue)

Prompts: Protective

Word Count: 4,400

Characters: The squad

Timeline: Pre-movie movie!verse

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Toxic Friendship

Summary: Kai only wants two things: to protect Lloyd, and to give him the best birthday ever. Unfortunately, Lloyd seems hell-bent on making that as difficult as possible. Kai’s always prided himself on achieving the impossible, but dealing with human emotions is much more complicated than beating up Garmadon’s generals or shooting enemies with fire, as he quickly learns. Movie!verse

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Read on Ao3

Tumblr work under the cut

“Woah, it looks like a massacre in here.”

At the sound of Cole’s voice, Kai, Jay, Lloyd, and Zane looked up from the map they had sprawled out across the table. Red pen was everywhere, circling different buildings and connecting them with lines.

“We’re having trouble finding a venue for Lloyd’s party,” Zane explained.

Nya rolled her eyes. “It’s not that hard! Just pick somewhere!” She held a hand out, shaking her phone. “We have five days until his birthday. Most places require at least that many to book a reservation. If we don’t decide today, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

“We can’t just pick anywhere,” Kai insisted. “It has to be perfect!”

“Why don’t we just go to the arcade?”

“It’s always so busy there.”

“It’s a Wednesday night! How many people are going to be there?”

“Trust me,” Jay said, “It’s still busy. It always is.”

Cole peered at the map. “Why’d you cross off the movie theater? Isn’t there a new Starfarer movie Lloyd’s been wanting to see?”

Kai shook his head. “Tickets sold out in like five hours. By the time school was over and we got over there, they were all gone.”

Jay frowned, running his fingers along one of the major streets. “What’s your favorite restaurant, Lloyd?”

“A restaurant? Are you serious?” Cole laughed. “We’d get kicked out in ten minutes.”

“Why can’t we just do it at my place?” Lloyd murmured. “I don’t need anything big deal.”

Kai frowned. “Your apartment isn’t that big, Lloyd. And I don’t want to bother your mom with all the decorations and stuff.”

Lloyd shrugged, looking down. “It doesn’t need to be big.”

“If you really want something simple,” Nya said, “why don’t we just do it at the warehouse? It’ll just be us, but there’s lots of space.”

Zane nodded. “That space would suffice. We would just have to ask Master Wu.”

“That is, if you’re certain that’s what you want.” Nya looked at Lloyd closely. “You sure you don’t want to do anything else?”

Lloyd nodded.

“Positive, bud?” Kai pushed. “Because it’s your birthday. We don’t mind at all.”

“I’m fine,” Lloyd insisted, getting to his feet. “It’s just another day on the calendar. Don’t make such a big fuss.”

The ninja fell silent.

“Lloyd,” Nya murmured, “it is a big deal to us.”

“Sorry. I’m just tired. And I’ve got homework. I should go.”

“Lloyd, wait-”

The green ninja pulled away from Kai’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine, Kai. I just have to go. Call me if you need anything.”

---

When they went back to school on Monday, their teachers loaded them with assignments, and Kai didn’t have a spare minute to talk to Lloyd in their shared classes. He couldn’t even talk at lunch because Lloyd had to make up a test. He kept his eyes peeled for his friend every time he was in the hallways, but if there was one thing Lloyd was good at, it was not being seen.

At the end of the school day, Nya texted him to meet up near their lockers. He got there and found her huddled around her locker with Cole, Jay, and Zane.

Kai walked over to them. “What’s going on? Where’s Lloyd?”

“He said he’d catch up with us later, which is why now is the perfect time for party preparation,” Jay said, gesturing towards Nya, who had a fiercely determined look on her face and was tightly clutching a clipboard. “Apparently she’s been waiting her whole life for this.”

“Alright.” Nya looked up from her clipboard. “I’ve already got streamers and gift wrap at home. What about you guys?”

“I’ve got a banner ordered with his name on it,” Cole said. “And of course, the shark tablecloths-”

Jay blinked. “Sharks?”

“Yeah. He loves sharks.”

“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! We’re getting the dragon ones! He loves dragons!”

“Well, yeah, duh, but he’d obviously like the shark one better.”

“Are you kidding? Sharks would remind him of his dad’s mechs!” “Yeah, well, dragons remind him of his mech, which also reminds him of fighting his dad.”

“Totally not the same, plus dragons are way cooler-”

“Okay, we’re going with the Starfarer ones, then,” Nya grumbled. “What about balloons? Who’s covering-”

“I have balloons,” Zane interrupted. “Two hundred and seventy-five of them.”

They gawked at him.

“Zane… why do you have so many balloons just lying around?” Jay asked.

“They are new! In the package! I can blow them up for Lloyd’s birthday party-”

“Shhhhh!” Four pairs of hands immediately pushed over his mouth, silencing him, even though they were the only ones in the very empty hallway.

“No one can find out,” Cole insisted. “This is Lloyd’s special day. We’re not about to let anyone ruin it.”

“Okay, so Zane’s got the balloons.” Nya ticked another item off the list. “What about the cake? I have most of the ingredients to make one at home, but I’m completely lacking the baking skills.”

Cole nodded. “I can bake a cake. What’s his favorite kind?”

“Lloyd likes that Funfetti one,” Kai murmured.

Cole’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not baking a box mix. I can get him the rainbow sprinkles, though, and make a homemade one.”

“Okay, sounds good. Jay, could you pick up some confetti before his birthday? And Zane, we need some fun paper plates.”

“Zane, you should get shark ones.”

“No, dragons!” “Zane will pick out whichever plates he likes,” Nya snapped.

“What about gifts?” Jay asked. “What are you guys getting?”

“I’m not telling you,” Nya yelped. “I have the best gift ever and I don’t want you stealing any ideas.”

“I’ve been setting aside pieces of my allowance for a month,” Cole grinned. “It’s gonna be sweet.”

Jay blinked at him expectantly, and Cole smirked. “I’m not telling you, either, blabbermouth.”

“Blabbermouth?” he yelped. “I can keep secrets perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Oh yeah? What about that time you nearly gave away all of our ninja identities?”

“Or-” Zane added, “when he and Lloyd were working on those surprise mech upgrades and he accidentally said something in front of Kai and Nya?”

“Oh, remember when he spoiled the finale of Cole’s favorite show?” Nya grinned. “Cole was pissed.”

“Okay, okay, so there were a few times,” Jay spluttered. “But those were a while ago! I have many more secrets that I have kept than I haven’t.”

Cole crossed his arms, smirking. “Name one.”

“Well, there was that one time, where I- hey!” He stopped, glaring at Cole. “You’re trying to trick me into telling you a secret!”

“And it very nearly worked. So no. You can’t know.”

Nya shrugged. “Sorry, Jay. He’s right. When you have a secret, you get nervous. And when you’re nervous, you talk. A lot. It would only be a matter of time before you spilled everything to Lloyd.”

“Fine,” Jay muttered. “Keep your secrets.”

Kai jumped slightly as Nya elbowed him, and she frowned. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

Kai shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is it just me, or… did Lloyd seem like he doesn’t really want a birthday party?”

The others went quiet.

“We’re not going to not give him a party,” Nya insisted. “You know how he gets. He never wants anyone to make a fuss.” Her brow furrowed. “It’s like he still can’t get it into his skull that we care about him.”

“I mean, of course I want to, it’s just… we can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want.” Kai bit his lip. “It’s been a rough past few months for him. I just want him to be happy.”

“We all do,” Cole agreed. “Lloyd deserves a night just about him, for once.”

Zane frowned. “But how are we supposed to give him the party that he wants if he won’t tell us what he wants?”

“Let me try to talk to him,” Kai said. “He might open up more if it’s just one of us there.”

---

Lloyd, in fact, did not want to talk.

He was more open during their classes the next day, and held casual conversation with him, but forcefully avoided the topic of his birthday whenever Kai brought it up.

He huffed with frustration. What kind of kid didn’t want to celebrate their birthday? He wished Lloyd would just tell him what was going on.

He wasn’t going to, though, so naturally, the next best thing was to follow him.

He wouldn’t call it spying- just finding another way of obtaining information when Lloyd refused to give it himself. Besides, he was doing this to help Lloyd, not to hurt him.

Kai jerked himself out of his thoughts as Lloyd nearly slipped from his view. He gritted his teeth, refocusing on him. Lloyd wasn’t an easy person to follow, either.

When he finally caught up to him, keeping a reasonable distance, of course, Lloyd was hovering near his locker. An unfamiliar, dark-haired kid was leaning against it, laughing at something as Lloyd smiled uneasily. Kai edged closer, his frown deepening.

“Where’s the spike head? And the rest of your gang?”

“Kai?” Lloyd shifted. “I dunno. He probably had homework and stuff to do.”

The guy shrugged. “I kind of found him annoying, anyway. You realize no one could ever get to you when your friends were around, right?”

“I guess that’s… kind of the point.”

“You can’t spend your whole life letting them protect you. If you block out any person who hurts you, you block out anyone who could potentially be a friend, too.” The guy smiled in a way that made Kai wanted to chuck himself between Lloyd and the guy.

“That’s… that’s the thing. No one wants to be nice to me.”

“Spare me the sob story,” the guy rolled his eyes. “I know your dad sucks, but at least you have one.”

Lloyd flinched. “Sorry.”

The guy laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and shoving him. “Stop being so jumpy, will ya? No wonder kids pick on you, you’re as harmless as a flea.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Lloyd blinked. “I can’t hit them back, or I’ll be in more trouble than I already am.”

“You don’t need to hit them, just show them you’re not a total coward! Maybe if you actually listen to them instead of cringing away, things might change.”

“Listen to them? Are you saying they’re right?”

“What does it matter if they’re right? Look, Lloyd, you’ve already got it hard enough as it is, and you’re making everything more difficult. You’d be so much cooler if you actually hung out with important people and not the outcast-losers you’ve stationed yourself with.”

For the first time since the conversation had started, Lloyd appeared indignant. “They’re not- I mean, you’re not-”

The guy laughed. “See? You can’t even get a word out. You’re so pathetic. You don’t even need the fact that you’re Garmadon’s son to get picked on, you already got it all set up for the torment-”

Kai wasn’t aware of himself pushing forward, he just was, and suddenly he was gripping the guy by the collar of his shirt, a pair of wide, brown eyes staring fearfully up into his.

“Who do you think you are and what the hell are you doing?”

“I… um, I…” the guy swallowed, his throat running dry.

“You treating my best friend like a piece of shit?” Kai shook him. “Are you?”

“I’m sorry!” The guy squirmed. “I didn’t really mean it, we were just joking around, he says that kind of stuff to me all the time!”

“Really? Lloyd. Says that. You sure we’re talking about the same person? Because I do not take nicely to liars.”

The guy squirmed harder. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Just please let me go, I’ll never bother you again!” Kai shot him the fiercest glare he could muster. “You better not.” He stepped back, dropping the kid, and he took off like a bullet.

Turning back to Lloyd, he saw his friend was staring at the fleeing boy with wide, disbelieving eyes, but it quickly dissipated to anger as he turned to Kai. “What the heck did you do that for?”

Kai’s eyes widened. “I was protecting you? From a bully?” Lloyd’s eyes flashed, and Kai actually took a step back. “I don’t need you to protect me! I can fight my own battles!”

Before Kai could even say anything, Lloyd was storming down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kai just stood there for a moment, in shock. What was that all about? Hadn’t he done the same thing for Lloyd a dozen times? Why would defending him ever be bad?

A buzz in his pocket interrupted his thoughts. Kai pulled out his phone to see a new message in the chat from his sister.

irondragonfangirl: how r things going with lloyd

MasterofFiyaaaaa: honestly? i think i made it worse

irondragonfangirl: well u better find a way to fix it soon because his bday’s TOMORROW

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah i’ll find a way through to him

MasterofFiyaaaaa: i just hope he listens

irondragonfangirl: don’t worry

irondragonfangirl: he will

irondragonfangirl: just make sure u remember to listen to him too

irondragonfangirl: i have a feeling we haven’t been doing that enough

irondragonfangirl: i feel terrible

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah me too

MasterofFiyaaaaa: we’ll make it up to him though

MasterofFiyaaaaa: right?

irondragonfangirl: sure as long as cole doesn’t burn this cake

irondragonfangirl: seriously y did we let him bake it

irondragonfangirl: if i dont respond in the next hour just assume his house burnt down and im dead

MasterofFiyaaaaa: can i have your motorcycle if you die

irondragonfangirl: shut up

---

Kai spent an hour looking for Lloyd after their confrontation, but he couldn’t find him anywhere, and Lloyd, unsurprisingly, hadn’t answered any of the twenty-some texts Kai had sent him, either. Eventually, he had to give up looking for him and resigned to speaking to him at school tomorrow.

His birthday.

In the first class they had together, Lloyd avoided looking at him, and Kai felt an ache in his chest. Today was his birthday. He knew things weren’t going to turn out like he had imagined, but he wanted them to at least be better than this.

Swallowing back his nerves, Kai walked over to him, where he was doodling something in his notebook.

Kai cleared his throat. “Um. Lloyd?”

Lloyd looked up, an expression flashing across his face that Kai couldn’t read, but he didn’t immediately leave or turn away from him, which Kai took as a good sign.

“Happy birthday, dude.”

Lloyd smiled tentatively back. “Thanks.”

Things didn’t go immediately back to normal after that- there was still a tension between them, and Lloyd wasn’t saying much more than a couple sentences at a time, firmly avoiding the topic of the previous day- but at least it was back to a level where Kai didn’t feel absolutely horrible for ruining his day. Lunch, at least, got a smile out of him- as well as a bunch of embarrassed blushing as Nya stabbed a candle into his brownie (they couldn’t actually light it, lighters weren’t allowed on campus) and they insisted on singing to him so off-key that Cole looked like he wanted to punch them.

When the last bell finally rang, Kai headed over to Lloyd’s locker, hoping they could talk now that there weren’t other kids around, but he wasn’t there.

Kai relented, pulling out his phone.

MasterofFiyaaaaa: Lloyd? i know youre upset but can we plz talk?

He held his breath, staring at the screen intensely, as if that would make Lloyd respond.

While he was waiting, a message from a group chat popped up.

irondragonfangirl: what’s taking so long jay, we need those decorations

jaybird123: eta 5 mins

jaybird123: i literally just left class how’d you get there so fast

jaybird123: wait you didn’t use the tunnels did you

irondragonfangirl: no me and cole are bringing the CAKE remember?

irondragonfangirl: im not taking that through the tunnel

irondragonfangirl: we didnt spend 3 hrs on that for it to get squished

irondragonfangirl: i told the nurse i wasn’t feeling well so i could go home early

irondragonfangirl: why didnt YOU take them

jaybird123: i couldn’t exactly discreetly smuggle all these decorations into my locker

jaybird123: mmm cake. is it good?

irondragonfangirl: don’t even THINK about it, that’s not until Lloyd gets here

jaybird123: but im hungryyyy

jaybird123: do i need to pick up anything for dinner?

rock’n’cole: nah it’s cool, we just found out lloyd’s favorite chinese restaurant, the Bamboo Dragon, delivers so we’re gonna order from there

jaybird123: my mouth is watering already

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Jay, you shouldn’t text while driving.

jaybird123: tell nya to get off my case then!

irondragonfangirl: exCUSE me zane you are supposed to be putting up those balloons right now why are YOU on your phone

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Why are you texting me? We are in the same room.

irondragonfangirl: why are YOU texting ME

rock’n’cole: would you guys just stop being dumb and come help me

irondragonfangirl: great now you got cole in on it too

rock’n’cole: would you two just GET OFF YOUR PHONES

Kai was interrupted from whatever turn the conversation was going to take next when he finally got another notification.

thegreendragon: ok. you know where i’ll be

Kai blinked, turning towards the doors and pushing through them, walking out onto the school lawn. The main feature was the football stadium, although there were other things as well- large trees, garden patches for the science classes, picnic tables for eating lunch outside, if the weather permitted. And- although the students were too old for recess, now- there was still a small swing set- a simple, rusty thing, with only two swings, but it served its purpose. Sitting on one of them, gently rocking, was Lloyd.

Kai made his way over, sitting down beside him in the other swing.

“So, uh… can we talk? About yesterday?”

Lloyd nodded, and Kai titled his head at him, trying to gauge his thoughts. “Who was that kid?”

Lloyd breathed out slowly. “His name is Brad. He was my best- and only- friend in elementary school, but we were separated when I moved away. Brad’s family just recently moved to Ninjago City, and I… I was hoping to reconnect with him.”

Kai ignored the twinge of jealousy at the words “best friends.” Lloyd was allowed to have other people than him in his life, and things had obviously changed since then, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but from what I saw… Brad was being a jerk to you.”

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I… he’s changed since we were kids. The efforts at rekindling our friendship honestly aren’t going so well. That’s… that’s why I was in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were only trying to do something nice for me.” “Don’t worry about me. But this Brad kid… anyone who treats you like that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

“I know, I just…” Lloyd sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I was so eager to make a friend other than you guys…” His eyes widened as he processed his own words. “Not there’s anything wrong with you guys, it’s just- I just wanted to actually earn someone who wasn’t friends with me because of a shared occupation.”

Kai elbowed him. “Hey. This whole ninja thing may be what got us introduced to each other, but we’re not friends with you because you’re one of the ninja. We’re your friends because we love you as a person. As Lloyd, not the green ninja.”

Lloyd sniffed, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks, Kai. I’m glad I have you to protect me.”

“You don’t need protection, but you’re stuck with me as a best friend, so you’re going to get it, anyway.”

Lloyd laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His phone buzzed, and he quickly checked it.

irondragonfangirl: the party’s all set up, now the only thing missing is lloyd. did you get to talk to him?

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah, we’re cool now. on our way

Kai turned back to Lloyd. “C’mon, green machine. Let’s go enjoy your birthday.”

Lloyd blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Your party, remember? The one Nya and the guys have spent the whole week planning? Or is there some other celebration I don’t know about?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No, no, it’s just- I thought I messed it all up.”

“Don’t worry, we got it under control.”

“Really?”

“This is our teammates you’re talking about! Stubborn as mules. They’re not giving up on you that easily.”

“I… thank you. Thank you guys.”

“You can tell them yourself. We’re going to this party, and we’re going to have fun!”

---

Kai had to admit, he was impressed with what the others had been able to pull off in such a short amount of time.

It was nothing huge or extravagant, but it was a nice little party, and Lloyd seemed to like it better like that, anyway.

They were barely through the doors of the warehouse when Jay was launching himself into Lloyd’s arms, pulling him into a tight hug, the others close behind.

“Happy birthday!” they cheered.

Lloyd hugged them back, laughing. “Thanks, guys, I didn’t- I didn’t expect all this!”

“Are you kidding?” Nya put her hands on her hips, grinning. “We’re pulling out all the stops for our baby bro.”

Lloyd’s smile briefly flickered to a scowl. “I’m not a baby.”

“To us, you always will be,” Kai said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair. Lloyd squirmed away, although he was unable to hide the grin on his face.

“Wow, this place really looks different.” Lloyd gazed around at the warehouse with wide eyes. They had pushed aside training equipment to make room for tables and chairs, and green and gold streamers decorated the walls, adorned by multicolored balloons. Someone had plugged a gaming console into the TV, as well as a DVD player next to a box of DVDs- which must’ve been Jay’s, he was the only person Kai knew, apart from Master Wu, who even had DVDs anymore- because Kai still hadn’t been able to convince Master Wu to buy them Netflix on the warehouse’s TV, getting the TV there in the first place had been hard enough as it was. On the far end was a buffet table, filled with rice, chicken, dumplings, and other Chinese staples from the Bamboo Dragon- as well as a beautiful, heavily frosted cake in the center of it all. It was decorated with rainbow sprinkles, making it completely and uniquely Lloyd.

Lloyd’s eyes were on the cake too, his eyes wide. “Cole! It looks amazing! I never knew you were so good at making cakes!”

Cole shrugged, trying to hide his smile. “I’ve had some experience.”

“Hey! What makes you think Cole made it?” Nya sniffed.

Cole blinked. “I did.”

“Well, I helped.”

Cole snorted. “Don’t know if you could call it that. From my point of view, it seems like I was doing most of the work while you were busy texting your boo.”

Both Nya and Jay turned scarlet.

“I was not,” Nya spluttered. “I was making preparations for Lloyd’s party!” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions too hastily,” Jay said, turning to walk over to the cake. “The true judge of quality will be how good it tastes.”

Nya stuck an arm in front of him. “Not so fast, mister! Dinner first.”

After laughing, playing games, and eating, they insisted on opening presents. Lloyd was all smiles and gratitude with each one, which ended up sparking a debate between the others about whose gift he liked best.

“He totally loved my gift!” “Nuh-uh! Did you see the way he smiled a little differently on mine?”

“Jay, you literally gave him a book. Why would he be excited about that?”

“Not just any book! A first edition Starfarer collector’s comic from when my parents were kids, and in mint condition, too!”

“Why would you want some dusty old comic when you could have the newest Starfarer video game?” Kai argued. “It took forever for me to find one of these, they were sold out everywhere.”

“Starfarer this, Starfarer that,” Cole sighed. “I don’t understand how he could possibly need any more Starfarer things. The record I engraved for him is way more personable and unique.”

“You guys are thinking about this all wrong! You should’ve gotten him a katana like me, something that he actually needs and uses.”

“Statistically, Lloyd spends more time drawing than any other hobby,” Zane said. “Which means my gift of an art book and new set of pencils is logically the best fit.”

“Clearly you guys all have it wrong in the head-”

“Guys, relax,” Lloyd laughed. “I loved all your gifts equally.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Jay… it means exactly what you think it means.”

“You can’t even pick one gift?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No way. These are all amazing. Thank you, guys. Really.” His gaze met Kai’s for a long beat. “For everything.”

“Of course. But, just to make things clear, you did like mine the most, right? You’re just saying you liked them equally, so that you didn’t make the others feel bad?”

Lloyd smacked his forehead as the others burst into protest again, and Kai shot him a sharp-edged grin. “I can do this all night.”

Eventually, Lloyd got them to stop bickering- the mention of cake got them all quiet pretty quickly- and after divvying it up, they went over to the couch and played the video game Kai had gotten him. He quickly lost track of time, but time didn’t matter. Even if it meant they would be tired for school the next day, seeing Lloyd like this- half sprawled over his teammates, brow scrunched in concentration as he mashed buttons on his controller, hints of frosting on his lips as he tried and failed miserably to bite back his laughter- it was worth it. He looked happier than Kai had seen him in weeks.

For that, he could even contain himself from bragging about how Lloyd obviously liked his gift best.

[yunhoez]

Swell

♄ pairings: suna x reader (in their 20s)

♄ genre: romance, angst, bestfriends to lovers (if u keep one eye open)

♄ warnings: cussing, smoking, suna & atsumu aren't volleyball players okay (don't yell at me), sfw for now

♄ wc: 2.4k

♄ a/n: okay so this is based on a script I wrote (it’s gonna be a film soon hehe), but considering I have to keep it short I wanted to continue it on as a fic! thank you to @chifuyuzu, @arumiee, @psmugglerr, and Mal♡ for encouraging me to do this and reading it <3 I hope y’all enjoy!

♄ songs - Swell by Lunar Vacation, I Don't Know You by The Marias

_______________________________________________

The low humming of the car and soft music coming from the radio sends you into a trance as you look out at the familiar streets of your hometown. Your head pressed against the seat feels heavy with the thought of being back in the place you ran away from. Your gaze trails to the two in the front seat, the streetlights hitting them enough for you to make out their features you’ve seemed to forget. Ava hums to the song on the radio lightly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. Atsumu’s eyes are fixed on the road before he turns toward Ava and rubs her back slightly. She shoots him a small smile before returning her gaze to the road. The aching feeling in your heart swells, making your stomach churn.

“It’s weird.” You say, breaking the peaceful silence that once graced the car.

“Hm?” Ava hums, looking at you through the rearview mirror.

“Nothing ever seems to change here.” You state, staring back out at the window with a blank expression, catching a glimpse of the houses you’d pass on the way to school.

Ava shakes her head, although you tried to mask your emotions, she could tell that you were irritated. Atsumu laughs looking out of the passenger seat window, noticing the park he used to practice volleyball at.

“It really hasn’t been that long since we’ve been here, Y/N.”

“I know, but you’d think things would at least feel different.” You throw your head back in frustration, letting out a loud sigh. Ava laughs, turning her blinker on before she begins to turn into yet another familiar street.

“I don’t know, I like that things are the same here. It feels like home, ya know? Knowing that there will always be a place that feels familiar is kinda comforting.”

Your gaze settles onto Ava with a mischievous grin. You scoot into the middle seat, leaning in between your two friends. Atsumu looks over at you and giggles, looking up at Ava to stare at her with you. Ava takes her eyes off the road for a second to see you two, she rolls her eyes.

“What?” She deadpans.

“That was the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard you say.” Your laugh fills the car, making Atsumu join in and eliciting a small huff from Ava.

“Shut up! Is it so bad I actually like my hometown?”

“Yes.” Both you and Atsumu state at the same time, further irritating Ava as she swerves slightly making the both of you slide in your seats.

“Crazy how I can just drop you two off on the side of the road and leave.”

“Not like we don’t know the way around here.” Atsumu says, poking at Ava’s cheek.

“Looks like you’re walking to the studio then.” Ava stops the car in the middle of the road, Atsumu looks at her with a puzzled look. She leans over to open his car door, you stare at the two in amusement waiting to see what happens.

“Babe, it’s another 10 miles!” Atsumu exclaims, shutting the door.

“Atsumu, just shut up or walk before these cars come.” You state, looking behind you and see the car lights coming from a small distance.

“Why do I have to shut up when this one started it?”

“Huh?! What did I do?”

Ava rolls her eyes, picking at her nail polish as the two of you bicker over nothing. She puts the car in drive and slams on the breaks causing the two of you to fall over.

“What the hell, Ava?” You ask from the middle of the driver and passenger seat. “I could’ve died?” Ava stifles a laugh before putting the car in park. She looks at Atsumu pouting in his seat, rubbing his forehead and refusing to make eye contact with her. Ava lets out a loud laugh, wiping at the corner of her eyes. You giggle to yourself as you lift yourself up, moving towards the right side of the car to take your seat. You notice Ava placing a kiss on Atsumu’s forehead and the fond touches the two share. A small smile appears on your face seeing them interact, their love radiating off of them like the sun on a hot day. It felt so nice to be around them, but the heat in your heart was beginning to sting. Was it jealousy? No. Anger? No. Longing… Maybe.

“Geez, ya nearly gave me a concussion!”

“Serves you right.”

Ava puts the car in drive, cruising along the dimly lighted streets. Atsumu continues to mutter to himself about how his head hurts.

“I felt my brain rattle.”

“Crazy because there’s nothing in there.”

They continue talking as you look out the window, blocking out their conversation with your own thoughts. Why did I come back here? Surely, I could’ve made up some excuse and made it up to them another time. I don’t think I’m ready to see-

“Anyways, Y/N, do ya really hate it here that much?” Atsumu breaks your train of thought.

“S’not that I hate it.” You mutter, head resting on your hand. “It’s just a weird feeling coming back to a place that doesn’t change. Like everything’s frozen in time… it freaks me out.” Scarlett peaks at you through the rearview mirror, once again, observing your facial expression. Always the mysterious one, aren’t ya? She thought.

“If you ask me, I think it’s nice having a place that doesn’t change. Somewhere you know you can be comfortable and find some sort of peace.” You stare at her for a second, before returning your gaze to the window.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Wow, you’re actually agreeing with me for once?”

“I mean I’m not opposed to the idea of it, I just don’t like getting too comfortable…”

“Fair enough.” Ava sighs, glancing over at Atsumu who nods knowingly at her as he puts his window down. Your window begins to roll down causing you to look at Ava in confusion. “Fresh air will do ya good.”

You rest your arms on the car window, slightly leaning your head onto them as you peek out of the window. The cool autumn breeze tickles your face, as you soak in the darkness of the night. It was a new moon, the only light coming from the sky was the twinkling stars and planets. You look up to the sky and catch a glimpse of a shooting star. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of those. You thought. I wonder if he still does this.

“Nice being able to see the stars, ain’t it?” Atsumu says, half way out of the car window.

“Yeah…” You smile, a giggle leaving your mouth as he sways in the wind dramatically. “One break from Ava and you’ll fly out!”

“Oi, don’t give her any ideas!”

Ava laughs, turning into the corner store you all used to visit everyday. Atsumu sits back into his seat, handing Ava a wad of cash from his wallet.

“Any requests?”

“Starbursts, make sure ya get the one with all the reds!”

“Alright, Y/N?”

“Oh! And one of those fancy lookin’ waters! Ya know, with the cool designs and shit?” Atsumu interrupts. Ava sends him a teasing glare and he smirks. She turns towards you, your attention fixed on the store that seemed to remain the same. The beige building had the same lettering and advertisements as it did when you were in high school. The railings had a fresh coat of paint on them, but still looked scuffed from all the times you and your friends would sit on them. It was just how you left it. How annoying.

“Oi, Y/N! Getcha’ head out of the clouds, Ava’s askin’ ya something”

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“You want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Twizzlers? Got it.”

Ava exits the car and runs into the shop. Atsumu lifts off his seat slightly, digging into his pockets and pulling out a pack of Seven Stars cigarettes. He plucks one out and lights it, puffing the smoke out of the window. The scent envelops her, giving her a sense of both warmth and pain from the memories it holds.

“Thought you quit.”

“I did. This is for nostalgic reasons.” He smiles, inhaling the smoke and releasing it out of the window in a swift movement.

“Right, you and Rin…” You trail off mid sentence. Atsumu looks up at you through the rearview mirror, just as Ava did, and takes another drag.

“Mhm, this was our go to place for a while.” His eyes flicker from you to the inside of the store. He relaxes back into his seat, looking over at Ava with the biggest grin on his face. She’s looking intensely at two bottles of water and making small talk with the cashier. You smile to yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as you remember the times you all used to meet up here and spend hours talking about nothing.

“When was the last time you two spoke?”

“I can’t remember.”

Atsumu nods, knowing the answer. He flicks the bud of the cigarette out of the window, turning slightly to see you staring at the ground. He flicks your forehead softly, earning a yelp from you. He laughs.

“He’s still here, ya know?”

You look up from the ground, but stay silent for a few moments before he speaks up again.

“He never wanted to leave.”

“Sounds like him.” You let go of your legs, opening the car door and stepping out. You stretch a bit before shutting the door behind you. “You think he’ll be at the show?”

“I don’t think he’d miss getting the chance to see you again.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, walking up to the door and exchanging a couple words with Ava before she exits. The cashier greets you just how he did when you were sixteen and the layout of the store is the same as it was 4 years ago. Nothing’s changed here… so why do I feel so out of place?

“What did you do?” Ava sighs, rummaging through the bag of snacks she just bought.

“Huh? I didn’t do anything!” Atsumu exclaims, hands held up in surrender as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“Sure, you didn’t. I’m assuming you mentioned Rintarou.”

“Hm? Rintarou? I don’t even know who that is.”

Ava scoffs, throwing the bag of Starbursts at him. He turns to her in shock, dramatically falling into his seat and gripping at the spot the candy hit him. She giggles, taking a bite out of a twizzler and lifting her leg onto her seat.

“What is she getting anyways?” Atsumu mutters, obnoxiously chewing on his candy.

“Lollipops.” Ava shrugs.

_____________________________________________

The smell of cinnamon and the bright lights of the studio overwhelm your senses in the most pleasant way possible. People you’ve never seen before walk past you, admiring the works of art your best friend, Rei, has displayed. Quiet chatter is heard over the music playing from a record player in the corner, occasionally Atsumu’s loud voice is heard saying “Yeah! Rei’s my best friend, she did all of this, ya know? I was her inspiration for most.” You giggle to yourself, hearing a small “Ow” when Ava elbows him in the rib. You observe the people around you, keeping an eye out for a certain brown haired boy. He’s not here. Your thought is interrupted by Rei’s sweet voice and a small shot glass held in front of your face.

“You look like you need this.” Rei giggles. You laugh lightly, grabbing the glass and clinking it with Rei’s before downing it with her.

“Strawberry?”

“Just like old times.” She smiles. You give her an annoyed look, causing her to roll her eyes and sling her arm over your shoulders. “Shut up, you know it’s our tradition.”

They part for a second then hook their arms together as they walk around the studio, Rei pointing out her favorite pieces and explaining them to you as you admire how ecstatic she is. The two of you stop at the last few pieces of her exhibit, the wall filled with pictures she’s taken over the years.

“I’m so proud of you.” You state, leaning your head onto her shoulder.

“Being vulnerable counts for something, doesn’t it?” She smiles, patting your head lightly.

Rei looks over at the entrance of the studio and waves to a couple people. You lift your head up and let go of her arm, as she smiles at you.

“I’ll be back!” She exclaims, running over and greeting them as she takes them on a tour of her art studio.

You debate whether to roam around the studio or stick to this exhibit, when something catches your eye. You stand closer to the photos, noticing how they date back to 2015. A couple photos in the timeline up to the present catch your eye. Ava, Atsumu, Rei, You, and Suna were in nearly every single one of them. You feel tears prick your eyes at how simple those times were, annoyed at the feeling of nostalgia seeping into your mind.

“Well this fucking sucks.” You whisper to yourself.

“I know, I look terrible in that picture.” A familiar voice states. A tall, lanky man stands beside you. His messy brown hair framing his face perfectly, as he gazes at the photos. You glance at him slightly, realizing who it is and avert your gaze back to the photos. “Seriously, who let me wear that?” He asks, looking over towards you and stifling a laugh at your reaction.

You turn your face to the other side, hoping he hasn’t recognized you. How could he? It’s been what? 3 years? I’ve changed my hair since then, there’s no possible way he’ll know it’s me. Suna lets out a laugh, making your heart ache. You turn to where he was standing and he wasn’t there. You furrow your brows and sigh with relief, but a hint of disappointment. You return your attention to the photos, only to be met with Suna’s chest. You hold your breath and remain still, as he bends down to meet your gaze. His golden eyes peering at you with a mischievous grin on his face, one that you remember all too well.

“Long time no see, angel.”

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR] Kairos

Kairos - Part 14

Pairing: Liam x OC Series Rating/Warnings: 18+; language; series will include ns*w 🍋 scenes Chapter Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Kairos (καιρός) is a word in Greek that translates to “the right time” or “the right moment to act” * Liam’s wife asks about “the one that got away” one night over dinner, and Liam recounts a relationship from his past * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 101: Were you ever going to tell me? * Author’s Note 2: * a very late, hastily proofread update thanks to early neighborhood fireworks and turning myself into an emotional support human to my dog (who hates loud noises) * Word Count: 1377 (5 minutes reading time)

Catch up with previous chapters here

“London?!” Max exclaimed. “We were there for Fashion Week! Is that why you switched your assignment to go with me?”

“Yes,” Benigno replied. “I could have used personal leave to travel there on my own, but the timing worked out in my favor and accompanying you was less conspicuous.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tears had begun to form in Max’s eyes, upon realizing she’d been in the same city as her sister.

“With respect to you Miss, no.” Benigno looked over to see Max’s chin quiver as she fought the urge to break down in front of Liam. “First I needed to see with my own eyes if it was really her, and when I saw her…she asked me to keep her whereabouts a secret, Miss Max.” He glanced over to Liam before turning to face Max again, frowning at his confession. “I’m only telling you now because you’ve put pieces together, and it’s clear King Liam cares about Miss Elia, or he wouldn’t have asked about her after all this time.”

“How were you able to track her down?” Liam inquired.

Benigno gave him a small shrug before answering. “It’s better not to know the details, but I called in a few favors.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small silver case, opening it to pull free a blank ivory card, before slipping the case back into his pocket. “May I?” he asked, reaching forward for one of the pens on the table. Liam nodded and Benigno wrote something on the back of the card; he leaned forward when he was done and returned the pen to the table, then stretched his hand forward, presenting the card to Liam. “If she’s still in London, this was her last known address from when I saw her.”

Liam glanced down at the address before tucking it into his pants pocket, nodding with solemn appreciation. “Thank you, Mr. Santos.” He looked over to see the eager expression on Max’s face. “I know by all accounts this ought to be handled by family, but it would raise suspicions if you weren’t present with the other suitors for all of the events.” The corners of Max’s lips turned down in a pout, though she nodded in agreement. “I’ll have to look at the schedule of events to see when I could slip away unnoticed, but I thank you both for your help tonight. You have no idea how much this means to me, to even have this small bit of information.”

-

A muted beam of sunlight filtered through the wispy curtains, and Liam stretched his arms above his head before rolling on his side to shut off the chirping melody from the alarm on his phone. After a cursory glance at the notifications that rolled in overnight, he placed a call to room service to order breakfast and took a shower. Once he’d eaten and dressed, he left the hotel and took to the streets of London, in search of the first woman who captured his heart.

Nearly an hour later, Liam stood across the street from a row of houses. He checked the pinned location on the map on his phone, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. With only a few feet separating him from his past and possible future, he slipped the phone into his pocket and crossed the street, making his way to the front door. His heart fluttered at the sight of the knocker on the door, in the shape of a brass peacock. Taking the ring in hand, he knocked it against the plate secured to the door and waited for someone inside to answer.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when the door opened, but seeing an older woman with greying hair and tortoiseshell spectacles was not on his list. She cracked the door open just wide enough to block the entry, wary of the unscheduled visitor standing on the doorstep. “May I help you?” she asked, eyeing Liam cautiously.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Liam replied. “My name is Liam Rys, and I’m looking for Miss Young. I was told she lives here.”

“She does…I’m Mrs. George, the caretaker. Do you have an appointment?”

“No ma’am. I’m a rather old friend of hers and I’m only in town for a day between business meetings. I was hoping to say hello, possibly catch up over lunch if she’s free.”

Mrs. George set her lips in a tense, dubious line. “I’m afraid the lady of the house isn’t here at the moment, and unscheduled visitors aren’t allowed in.” She craned her neck out towards Liam. “And if you’re truly a friend of Miss Young, you’d know how much she dislikes surprise guests.”

Liam sighed, his shoulders slumping in tandem as he exhaled. “Mrs. George, this may be the only opportunity I have to speak with her for the foreseeable future. I’m not certain when I’ll be able to travel to London again, or whether she’ll be here when that time comes.”

Mrs. George scrutinized Liam’s face, then let out the tiniest gasp as she straightened her posture in the doorway. “When did you see her last?”

“It’s been three, nearly four years, give or take a few weeks.”

Mrs. George continued to study Liam’s face for a moment, then nodded to herself. “I’m not at liberty to disclose her precise location, but Miss Young spends most mornings walking through Holland Park. You’ll likely find her there at this time of day.”

Liam’s face lit up with renewed hope, and he stepped forward, shaking hands with the kind woman. “Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and walked down the short path to the gate, waving to Mrs. George as she watched him from the front window. He wondered what could have prompted her to disclose even such a general location for Elia, perhaps unaware that she’d been living under the fake name Benigno had used on the passport given to her all those years ago.

It didn’t take Liam very long to reach one edge of Holland Park, though he had no idea where to start looking for Elia. With another deep breath to calm his nerves, he decided to begin his search by walking the perimeter and slowly working his way inwards, in hopes of crossing paths with Elia.

Forty minutes and countless steps later, the only thing Liam found was a thin sheen or perspiration across his brow as he balanced walking with purpose and blending in with others meandering through the park. He was strolling along one of the paths past a playground, when he heard the familiar screeching birdcall of a peacock; he laughed to himself, recalling the reserve on Kos and the trips he’d taken there with Elia.

Liam thought he might’ve been foolish to think he could find Elia in less than a day, when she’d spent nearly two years completely under the radar. She’d taken a risk in sending money to Benigno, and she’d trusted him more than anyone to keep her secret. She’d never bothered to reach out to Liam, even before he’d gotten married; he began to doubt whether she’d even want to see him now.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly collided with a small child pointing at a peacock a few yards away. “Mama, mama! Pfau! Pfau!” Liam dodged the little boy speaking German that stopped in the middle of the path to point. He smiled as he looked down to see the boy’s excited face, then froze in shock.

“Billy! Slow down, sweetheart!”

Liam’s heart seemed to stop, hearing Billy’s mother call out behind him. He knew that voice. Throat suddenly dry, he forced a cough and dared to turn around, eyes trained on the ground, too nervous to look the mother in the eye right away. She had on a pair of nondescript black leather ballet flats, black dress pants, and a cranberry cashmere sweater set. Her obsidian hair was swept up in a purposefully messy updo. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. When he caught her eye, he grinned softly at her, and her jaw slackened enough to let her mouth fall into a perfect O.

“Liam? Is that you?”

[amythedvdhoarder]

Storm in a Teacup

Pairing: Bucky x Divorced Reader

Word Count: ~2K

Warnings: Fluff, a monster of an ex-mother-in-law

Summary: You’re on your first date after your divorce. Who should you run into? Your ex-mother-in-law.

A/N: This comes from a request sent in by a lovely nonnie, who wanted a fic based around a divorced reader who runs into her ex-mother-in-law whilst on a date with Bucky. Before that point, Bucky didn’t know about her divorce. Embarrassment ensues and Bucky has to make up his mind about what to do next. I hope I have done your idea justice. Sorry it took me so long.

Thank you to the wonderful @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ for beta reading for me. Ily hun 😘

It had taken a long time for you to get to this position, to feel comfortable enough to be dating again. But you had been separated from your now ex-husband for two and a half years, your divorce finalised 6 months ago. It was time to try and have some semblance of a life. You felt guilty about not revealing your divorce to Bucky, but when you moved to New York you really wanted a fresh start, so you didn’t tell anyone about your past. Of course, if there came a time when Bucky needed to know then you would tell him, but this was just a coffee.

Bucky and you had begun talking a few months ago. It started when he was dropping off mission reports with small smiles, progressing to hello’s and then to you making him coffee whenever he stopped by during your lunch break, which he always seemed to arrive in time for. He had realised quickly that you weren’t a New York native, so traded your museum recommendations for tv, film and music recommendations. Each time you met you discussed your latest weekend museum trip and he told you his thoughts on the latest thing he had watched or listened to.

It was clear that you two had a connection. Your co-workers had even commented on how well you and the notoriously silent super-soldier seemed to get along. They were surprised that you hadn’t been on a date already. But you had reservations; perhaps it was too soon. Plus, there was no way Bucky would be interested in you. He was just polite and maybe enjoyed having someone who wasn’t a superhero to talk to. It was a shock when he asked you out for coffee the next time you saw him. You were even more shocked that you had agreed without any hesitation.  

You were nervous. In fact, nervous was an understatement. Sick to your stomach was a more accurate description. It wasn’t the fact that it was a date with Bucky Barnes, it was the fact it was a date. Your first, first date in nearly 10 years.  

Bucky was leaning against a lamppost, outside your apartment waiting for you. When you saw him you felt yourself instantly relax. He gave you his signature lopsided grin that you had come to crave and ambled over to you.

“You look great,” he said as he stood back and admired you.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself for an old man,” you teased. That was the understatement of the century. He looked like a model in his dark wash jeans, dark blue henley layered over a black t-shirt and a leather jacket in his hand.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Theoretically we’re about the same age you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmmm well I don’t know about that, but we better get going otherwise we’ll be out past your bedtime.”

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Bucky winked.

“Maybe elders that don’t act like teenage boys, but you and Sam are like high-school kids.”

Bucky looked confused for a second and then remembered that you had caught him and Sam hiding Steve’s shield under your desk the other week.

Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, you win.”

The coffee shop was only a couple of streets away, on a corner opposite one of your favourite parks. Bucky and you ordered together and found a table near the window.

Both of you were chatting away about an art gallery you had visited the day before when you were suddenly interrupted.

“You,” that was a voice you would recognise anywhere, a voice which still haunted you. One of constant criticism, one that drove a wedge between you and the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

“Hello Eliza,” you said through a forced smile.

Bucky stood and politely offered his hand to Eliza, but she ignored it leaving Bucky to sit down awkwardly.

“What brings you to New York?” you asked curtly.

“Well Leon and I are visiting my sister,” you balked, glancing quickly around the room, checking for any sign of him.

“He’s not here so you can stop looking. My son had a lucky escape by all accounts,” she sent a sneering look towards Bucky and then back to you. “Barely divorced and already moving on. I always suspected you were a whore; this just confirms it.”

Tears sprang to your eyes; she was publicly humiliating you. Calling you out for being a whore, when you had done nothing but be faithful to her son throughout your marriage and in fact whilst going through the long and bitter divorce. It was her son who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Anger took over and just as you were about to respond Bucky stood up and moved in front of you.

“Sorry I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to speak to anyone like that,” his voice low and urgent, his metal hand clenching and unclenching quickly by his side.

Eliza smirked, eyes flicking up and down at the man standing in front of her. “Ah I recognise you off the news, you two make the perfect match. Both damaged goods that no normal person could want.”

You stood up and went to stand by Bucky’s side, gently taking his arm in your hands. “That’s enough Eliza, we aren’t family anymore, you have made it evidently clear you want nothing to do with me. The feeling is very much mutual. We have nothing more to say to each other so goodbye.”

She let out a little exclamation of shock, but she quickly recovered her sharp exterior. Without saying another word, she just turned on her heels and left the coffee shop.

Bucky gently led you back to your seat, ignoring the people staring at both of you. You looked like you were in shock.

“Hey…” his thumb caught the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks, “she’s not worth your tears.”

This seemed to finally snap you out of your daze. You look at Bucky and everything just seemed so overwhelming. He was being too kind. Eliza had been right, you were damaged, Bucky deserved more than you, someone who could at least be honest about themselves.

‘I’m sorry Bucky…” you grabbed your bag and tore yourself away from him, running out the café and onto the busy street.

He didn’t follow you immediately like he wanted to, he knew you needed some space. Bucky didn’t know you well but wanted to, he was going to be there for you if you let him. Besides he had an inkling about where you were.

You were exactly where he thought you would be, sat on a bench in the park, covered by a weeping willow.

“Mind if I sit,” you jumped at the intrusion. Bucky stood in front of you, holding two take-out cups from the coffee shop and what looked like a very chocolatey cookie.

All of you could do was nod, the shame of Eliza’s words and your own dishonesty still coursing through you.

“Here,” Bucky offered you the cup and you numbly accepted. “Do you want to split this?” he held up the bag and you rolled your eyes at him. “I mean, I’m quite happy to eat it all,” he sent you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help the little snort that escaped you. “We’ll split it, would hate for you to have to spend an extra hour in the gym burning off a whole cookie.”

“You’re too kind,” he teased, opening the bag and poking out the cookie for you to snap off half of it.

Both of you sat and ate without uttering a word to one another. You couldn’t believe he was being so nice to you; you certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I can see why you like it here so much,” Bucky commented, breaking the silence.

“Bucky, how did you know I’d be here?” You turned to face him and took a sip of your coffee.

“I’ve seen you here before. But before you think I’ve been stalking you let me explain. I grew up around here, a couple of blocks away actually. I like to come here for a walk sometimes to remember the happier more carefree times. I spotted you one day but you looked so content in your own little world, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His cheeks flushed slightly with his admission.

He cleared his throat and looked at the coffee cup in his hands before continuing. “Then I started coming here more regularly, hoping I would see you, but I never plucked up the courage to come and talk to you.”

“I’m sorry Bucky” you said quietly.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me today and I still don’t know what you’ve got to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that woman was way out of line. You don’t owe me an apology for anything,” His brows knitted together with concern and it made you feel even more guilty.

“I should’ve told you about the divorce,” smiling ruefully, placing your empty coffee cup between you on the bench.

“I already knew,” he shrugged.

“What? How? I hadn’t told anyone at work,” you spluttered in shock.

“That’s how,” he nodded to where your thumb and forefinger were twisting around where your wedding ring used to be.

You let go immediately and shook your head. “Why did you ask me out for coffee if you knew about my divorce?”

It was perplexing to you that anyone would want to come anywhere near you after your divorce. You had just assumed you would be alone forever. No one had two people out there meant for them. Well, maybe Leon hadn’t been your one.

“We can’t help our past,” Bucky flexed his metal hand, “I know that better than most. All we can do is make the most of our future. I like you, have since I met you. In fact, Sam got so fed up of me talking about you, that he threatened to ask you out himself if I didn’t hurry up and get on with it. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s just thought you could do so much better that an ex-brainwashed assassin.”

“You’re a good man Bucky, anyone would be lucky to have you” you whispered.  

Bucky leant over and wiped away the tears you hadn’t realised had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I don’t just want anyone though,” His deep blue eyes peered into yours trying to get across his meaning.

“I like you too Bucky, but we’ve got to take this slow.” His face lit up at your words and he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

“I’m over 100 years old, slow suits me. But seeing as our first date was hijacked would you like to get some dinner with me? I know a diner around the corner has the best burger in the city.”

“Sounds perfect, but only if you let me get it this time. I owe you for the coffee and the cookie.” You offered.

“I think I just about agree to terms of that deal,” Bucky laughed, scooped up the rubbish and got to his feet. “Shall we?” he asked, offering you his free hand.

You put your hand in his and got to your feet. “Let’s go.”

Gif not mine, credit to the creator

Divider made by the talented @firefly-graphics​

Taglists are open. Let me know if you want in or out

Everything:

@stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes, @cas25214, @pandaxnienke, @thehumanistsdiary, @saiyanprincessswanie, @ladyacrasia, @sweeterthanthis, @joannie95, @lennon-knox, @navybrat817

Bucky:

@its-izzys, @archy3001

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet!  (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it. 

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet. 

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?” 

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest. 

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!” 

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to. 

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov 

[heliads]

Still Into You

Based on the request “Luke x reader based on the song Still Into You by Paramore?”

masterlist

Luke is leaning up against the wall, legs stretched out idly in front of him. His girlfriend is curled up on the bed next to him, lips pursed in thought as she considers the lines of music in front of her. They have the same habit of writing songs in worn and torn notebooks, of writing over and tearing out pages until the books themselves are reduced to nothing then reanimated with the sheer frenzy of their music. Luke likes that they have this shared trait, like it’s a sign that they were meant to be together ever since the start.

Y/N feels Luke’s eyes resting on her and looks up, blushing slightly. “I’m not very interesting company, am I? Sorry about that.” Luke just grins. “Don’t worry about it. You writing songs makes me think about songs, and that’s one of my favorite things to do.” Y/N smiles at that, leaning up to kiss him gently on the cheek before settling down again in front of her notebook. She squints at a line, then rubs it away with her eraser.

Luke glances down at the lines of music, but his head’s at an angle and he can’t read a single note. “What’s the song about?” Y/N flashes him a teasing grin. “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out soon enough.” She considers the main melody, adding a few notes as she goes. “I’m not quite sure if it’s happy or sad, not yet. It’s fast, and it’s fun to sing, but that’s all I’ve got right now.” Luke nods, leaning his head back against the wall and letting the faint sounds of scratching pencils and Y/N’s occasional humming take him back to the time he first met her.

Y/N was Julie’s friend, and had been her best friend long before Luke showed up. Luke smiles in spite of himself, remembering the first time he had caught a glimpse of the girl. Julie had been talking with Y/N in her room, and Luke had made a point of walking by so that Julie would be forced to introduce him. From the second Y/N had locked eyes with him, Luke knew he was head over heels for her. Even the way she said her name sounded like a melody, a pure and beautiful sound that Luke couldn’t write even if he tried for the rest of his life (or death).

Every moment spent with her was better than the last, every inside joke and casual conversation inspired him. It hadn’t taken Luke long to realize he loved her, and an even shorter time to ask her out. Luke laughs inwardly, remembering how nervous he’d been to first ask Y/N on a date. If ghosts had heartbeats, Luke’s would have been pounding so loud the entire town could have heard it. Luckily, she had said yes, and the rest was history.

There had been hard times, sure, but the good easily made up for the bad. When the business with Caleb and his club had finally come to an end, with Luke, Alex, and Reggie being able to finally touch people, Luke had practically sprinted over to Y/N’s house. She had looked up at him through tear-glazed eyes, having thought him dead, but her gaze quickly changed to happy shock when he had gathered her up in his arms, picking her up and turning in a lazy circle.

Then there were late nights with the two of them cuddled up close together, and early mornings with kisses pressed to cheeks, and date afternoons with hands entwined for all the world could see. If, you know, they could see Luke at all. It didn’t matter, though. Not with her. Not for anything as long as Luke had Y/N.

Luke is snapped back to reality when Y/N gently shuts her notebook cover, yawning. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Luke glances out the window, surprised to see that night had fallen and the stars were already shining through the dim patches of cloud. Luke stands up, stretching, then leans back down to kiss Y/N one last time. He says his goodnights and turns to go, pausing only once to look back at the girl he loves before disappearing back to Julie’s studio.

Luke is frustrated. He’s not sure why, but his blood is practically boiling. Maybe it’s because it’s been a long, stressful week, where he’s convinced himself that things have been good for too long. Caleb wouldn’t just give up, not like this. Something’s coming. It has to be.

Then there was the problem of Luke’s obvious ghosthood. It’s amazing to perform with his friends as a guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms. To play music again, in front of a crowd that can see him and cheer along as if he were just another lifer? It means everything to him. But for every stellar performance, there’s always that one moment when it ends. When the last chord is played and the drumbeats fade away to silence, when Luke finally disappears to the crowd. It just feels like a constant thorn in his side, a reminder that no matter how hard Luke works he will always just be a ghost, unnoticed by anyone except the rare exceptions.

Luke can’t stand to go inside the studio, at least not yet. He doesn’t want to be stuck inside again, in those same four walls with the same few people. So he heads out down the streets, walking casually down the sidewalk as if he were just another ordinary teenager heading home from school. He’s so lost in his surroundings that he almost doesn’t hear someone calling his name, and even then, it takes the person’s running footsteps that stop just behind him to convince Luke that they’re not just calling out to someone else on the street.

When Luke turns around, his frown turns into a smile when he realizes it’s Y/N. She looks amazing today, eyes shining with the bright light of the afternoon sun. She beams at him. “Look who’s out and about! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Luke chuckles, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. “I figured it would be nice to get out of that studio every once in a while.” Y/N nods, then her happy gaze turns into one of slight guilt, as if she’d just realized something.

“Actually, about that. You remember how we had that date planned in a few days?” Luke nods. He’d been really looking forward to that. The two of them had decided to visit the boardwalk again, and stroll up and down while taking in the wind and the waves and all of the shops that dotted the faded horizon. Y/N winces. “Something came up unexpectedly, and I think I’m going to need a rain check. This honor society at school just announced that they’re meeting at that time, and I can’t skip it. I’m really sorry.”

This should just be a normal occurrence, something that Luke can brush off with a smile and an understanding nod. Yet for some reason, he feels his previous anger start to bubble up again inside of him. “Really? At that exact time?” Y/N nods, looking to all the world like a girl utterly distraught at the news. “It was supposed to be later, but they changed it. I didn’t have a say in it, but I can’t miss the meeting.”

Luke frowns. “But we agreed on that date. I mean, we’ve been talking about it for a while now.” Y/N glances back at him, evidently surprised at his tone. “I don’t have a choice about this, Luke. I can’t change the meeting.” Luke looks back at her. “And what, we can definitely change this?” Y/N raises her eyebrows. “I thought so, yes. It would be super easy to just move it to be the next day.”

Luke shakes his head. “Can’t do it then. I’m spending time with Alex and Reggie.” Y/N furrows her brow. “You spend time with them literally every day. Can we not have our date then?” Luke stops walking, suddenly exasperated. “Your meeting is important and so is this.” Y/N turns to face him. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I’m literally just asking if you can put off talking to your friends for a couple hours. I don’t think that’s very hard to do.”

Luke folds his arms across his chest. “Of course it wouldn’t be hard. I’m a ghost, after all. Everyone knows that ghost problems aren’t nearly as important as your problems.” Y/N looks taken aback. “That’s not what I’m saying at all! What’s up with you?” Luke stares at her pointedly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired of feeling unimportant.” Y/N holds up her hands in front of her. “I never said you were unimportant. I’m just confused as to why you think me not being able to make it to one date is equal to an entire argument.”

Luke feels himself getting irritated, and tries to put on a calm face, but all hopes of salvaging this are out the window. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to get too upset about this. How about we just cancel the date? All future ones too, for that matter. It would be too bad if I interfered with your schedule.” Y/N looks horrified, but Luke’s already poofed away, leaving her standing alone and in shock on the sidewalk.

It’s barely been a few hours, and Luke already feels bad about everything. Did he really just say all that to Y/N. And over what, a schedule change? But if Luke knows one thing about himself, it’s that his pride is too big of a stumbling block to overcome. He can’t bring himself to go back and admit that he was wrong, even though he knows that he very much was. So he waits, and waits. A day passes, and then another, and then another. Y/N avoids him the entire time.

After a week, Luke feels crushed by guilt. He’s made a terrible mistake, and he knows it. Why did he have to be so rude just because he felt bad about himself? The other boys have picked up on his bad mood, and try to be extra nice to him. That just makes Luke feel even worse, like he’s upset them too.

Luke’s lying on the sofa in the studio when Julie appears in the door. She knocks twice on the door, alerting him to her presence, then walks in. She comes to a stop in front of Luke, handing him a flyer for a band performance at her school. Luke takes it, frowning. “What’s this about? You think we should do something like this?”

Julie shakes her head. “No, I think we should go. It’s for Y/N’s band. She’s performing, and we should be there to support her.” Luke sits up, looking at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t want me there. Trust me. I messed up things with her big time, and the last thing she wants is to see me in that crowd.” Julie sighs, perching next to Luke on the arm of the sofa. “I would disagree. I think this is the perfect time to get up the courage and see her again.”

Luke is more than hesitant at first, but Julie talks him into it through a combination of calm advice and emotional blackmail. What would you do without friends? So, Luke drags himself out of Julie’s studio and towards Los Feliz High School, regretting his decision the entire time. What if Y/N’s already moved on? What if she really doesn’t want to see him there, and his presence will just make things worse?

Luke wants to turn and leave a dozen times over, but Julie and the boys are there with him, forcing him to stay. Luke follows them into the crowded gymnasium, where he can see a stage is prepared and ready for the upcoming performance. Just as Luke is seconds away from talking himself out of the entire thing, the lights dim and a voice comes over the speakers, announcing Y/N’s band. So this is it- no backing out now.

Y/N and a few of her friends walk on stage, waving to a cheering audience. Y/N is the lead singer, and grabs a guitar from a stand before taking her place in front of the mic. She flashes an easy grin to the crowd, then starts playing.

Instantly, Luke recognizes the song. It’s the one she had been writing all those nights ago, when the two of them had been at her house and everything had been perfect. It’s just like she described- fast, certainly. He still can’t decide if it’s happy or sad, maybe reminiscent or hopeful, even. Then she gets to the chorus, and Luke feels himself lean forward involuntarily as Y/N grabs the mic, singing directly into it as if she were speaking to him herself.

‘Cause after all this time

I’m still into you

I should be over all the butterflies, but I’m into you, I’m into you

And baby, even on our worst nights

I’m into you, I’m into you

For the first time all night, Y/N turns to look directly at him. There’s a twisting feeling in his heart as Luke realizes exactly what the song is about. Him, and her, and everything that went wrong. It’s funny- even as the full extent of the hurt Luke has caused Y/N hits him, he still feels his heart swell with relief. She still loves him, even after all this time and all this heartbreak.

Some things, some things just make sense 

And one of those is you and I

Some things, some things just make sense

And even after all this time

I’m into you

Luke’s heard Y/N sing before, in quiet rooms and empty streets. He’s seen her on stage too, felt goosebumps as she performs with that same captivating electricity every time. But he’s never felt anything quite like what he feels right now, this combination of relief and guilt and love, sheer love, that rocks him to his core.

Before he knows it, the song is over. Y/N and her band perform a few more songs, all excellent, and then he realizes that they’re starting to step off stage. Instantly, Luke poofs away to the hallway just backstage. He opens a door that leads outside, making sure Y/N sees him go, and stands there in the slight chill of the night.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Luke’s barely been there a minute when the door swings open again, revealing Y/N walking towards him. The door has barely closed behind her when Luke moves towards her, crashing his lips onto hers. She looks up at him with this startled smile, reflecting his own teasing grin when he pulls away. “Y/N, I’ve been such an idiot. I messed up. I don’t know what I was thinking that afternoon, but I regret it all. Of course it’s not a big deal to move the date time, and I don’t know why I thought it was.”

Y/N considers him for a moment, a light smile playing on her lips, then speaks. “It’s okay, Luke. Julie tells me you’ve been miserable this whole time, so I knew you didn’t mean it.” Luke frowns. “Julie said what?” Y/N laughs. “She made sure to tell me so I didn’t feel bad.” Luke’s about to say something about how he’s sure Julie has no idea what she’s talking about and he’ll be speaking to her later, but Y/N grabs his hands, pulling him close. “Don’t say anything to her. It was what I needed to hear.”

Luke stares at her for a second, weighing her words, then breaks into a grin. “If you insist. Oh, and by the way, you killed it out there. You were amazing.” Y/N smiles up at him. “You think?” Luke kisses her cheek. “I don’t just think, I know. Loved the first song especially.” Y/N laughs, the quiet sound somehow making the darkness of the night brighter, like the sunrise came a few hours early. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been working on it for a while and it just felt right.”

Luke grins, kissing her again. Of course it felt right- it was the truth, the unspoken truth that both of them had been dancing around this entire time. No matter what, the highs and the lows and the worst of the nights, they still loved each other. That’s the way it would always be.

[murderbabies]

Listen I know people say Kaz loves dogs but may I just suggest - Kaz slowly earning the trust of a feral cat who is just as weary of people as he once was:

(inspired by my own experience with a feral cat - with a little Kanej thrown in there because who do you think i am - and dedicated to my lovely murder wife @vampirewifee)

Kaz would often leave scraps out on the windowsill for the crows, but also as a sort of security system to make sure no one had tried to come in to his office (other than Inej of course)

But one day the window's left open while he steps out of his office for a minute and, when he comes back, he notices that two of the sausages have mysteriously gone missing from his plate by the windowsill.

The next day he leaves out a slice of chicken liver on the windowsill. Two hours later, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a black shadow race across the window. By the time he's made his way across the room, the figure, and the liver, is gone.

He thinks about bringing it up to Inej but instead decides to take on this little investigation himself. He will not be outbested by a simple chicken thief, and really what's another mystery to solve?

Three days later he sees it. A black cat, tail missing, left ear half bitten off from a scrap years ago, slowly making its way across the neighbouring roof. The second he makes eye contact with it, it raises its hackles and hisses at him.

"Nothing to fear little mutt. Want some turkey?" Kaz whispers, slowly reaching for his half eaten sandwich. But before he can make it to his desk the cat's disappeared. Kaz chuckles to himself. He knows all about his companions pulling off disappearing acts.

For the next week he keeps a small bag of cat treats in the pocket of his waistcoat. The local stray cats have started following him around. All but one specific midnight feral cat.

The only sign that he hadn't imagined the whole thing is the fact that the slice of tenderloin he leaves out every night (which he personally collects from the butchers every evening), is gone by the time he walks past the window on the way to get his third (or maybe fourth) mug of coffee for the night.

A fortnight later the offerings of the butcher's finest have increased to twice a day. Sometimes, if he's lucky, he'll catch a glimpse of the cursed thing. But only when the window's shut does it actually stay long enough for him to see, yellow eyes locked on his own. Daring him to come closer.

But Kaz only takes this a challenge. And by Ghezen does he love a challenge.

Finally, after two laborious months of sitting silently at the window, barely twitching a muscle, can he finally sit within reaching distance of the mangy thing without being hissed at. And yet he still makes no attempt to pet it. Not yet.

The Dregs have begun to notice the black cat slinking around the Slat windows. They toss it their lunch scraps, but none of them dare get any closer. Not after Rotty chanced it that one time and had to get 13 stitches on his palm. He was lucky not to lose his index finger.

One night, after a particularly rough mission that almost cost Kaz months of planning, he hears a scratching at the window.

Slowly he opens up to find the blasted cat. It hesitantly makes its way onto the bench right by the window. Still hissing. Its hind leg held up, clearly injured.

Kaz calls out to Anika to fetch for a medik. But as soon as she reaches the door of the office, the stupid cat bolts back out the window, still injured, into the night.

Kaz had almost resigned himself to never seeing the cursed thing again after Anika's stunt but lo and behold, three days later it makes a reappearance. The injured leg is in much worse shape and, despite the years spent on the streets in the Barrel, Kaz can't help but feel his throat tighten at what's been done to this creature.

Pushing away his thoughts he springs into action - shutting the window closed to prevent the thing from pulling another runner. By some miracle sent from one of Inej's Saints Kaz manages to hold the creature long enough, yowling the whole time but not fighting back, for the medik to come.

At first the cat refuses to be tended to by the medik, hissing and scratching, until Kaz plants himself right beside it, whispering soothingly. Not knowing what to say exactly, Kaz opts to give an account of the Merchant Council's tradings in the last quarter. But it seems to work nevertheless and the beast stills.

Several long hours, a hoarse throat, and a nearly blinded eye on the medik's part later, the broken leg is finally treated and bandaged up. Inej speaks to the medik outside while Kaz treats the cat with little bites from the pound of turkey breast he had Pim fetch from the butcher's. She's told that the cat will recover just fine but that the delay in getting treated means that the leg didn't set quite right. "It seems we've got a mini Kaz on our hands now," Inej smiles to herself as she recounts the news to Kaz. Kaz is just glad the cat was saved, although he'd never admit it aloud.

As it recovers, the cat becomes a common presence around the Slat, although it still hesitantly sticks to the shadowed doorways and hisses at anyone but Kaz. Sometimes even Kaz.

Inej grumbles about Kaz being the only one the thing doesn't hiss at. "Jealous Wraith?" Kaz laughs, eyes twinkling.

The ebony cat often sits precariously on the cabinet by the window, but it still gets skittery when the window's closed at times. Kaz chuckles to himself about it. "I know someone else with a penchant for quick rooftop escapes".

But ever so slowly, it begins to get comfortable around Inej. The first time Inej climbed in through the window while the cat was inside the closed office, it went crazy - its only exit route blocked with no way out. But eventually it grows accustomed to Inej's presence at the window. The catnip Inej always has on hand definitely helps.

One evening though, as the sun's almost completely dipped beneath the harbour, Inej begins to hear a low rumble. Her eyes snap to Kaz and his eyes are just as wide as hers. He hears it too. An unmistakable purr coming from the cat perched on the window across from Inej. Eyes closed, face turned towards the last warm streaks of disappearing light.

It's months later and the cat has become Kaz's second shadow (or third, depending on who you're talking to). He refuses to give it a name, referring to it exclusively as "Cat", "Chicken Thief", "Mangy Thing" and a slew of other apathetic descriptors. But Inej isn't at all fooled by Kaz's air of disdain - not when she's seen the portion of funds he spends on the best cuts of meat every month. She's even caught him cooing at the thing in the dead of night a couple times.

One day Inej grows tired of the odour emanating off the once feral cat and decides to haul both it and Kaz (who are both inexplicably hissing) into the bathroom to get them both cleaned up, because in Inej's words, "If you won't rest like a functioning human, the least you can do is smell like one".

However the only time Kaz actually sleeps is when the cat is sitting on his lap. Despite the museum blueprint he's been working on for three days straight, the purring lulls him into a quiet sleep and he wakes up feeling better rested than he has in years. It eventually becomes a habit and Kaz cannot drift off without that familiar weight on his chest rumbling quietly.

[sugako]

sleepover

pairing: college!kuroo x gn!reader synopsis: you realize your feelings for kuroo after he takes you to a party and you have to look after him  warnings: alcohol use, lots of hand holding and some cuddling a/n: uhh did i make the reader a little too much like kenma...probably..this is really mostly just a bunch of fluffy mutual pining and bad writing

you couldn't believe he had dragged you here. well, dragged was a strong word. you had willingly agreed to come to this party because his normal party friends were busy and he thought it would be fun. the loud shitty music, swarm of sweaty bodies, and intermittent yelling was not for you though.

it wasn't all bad. it was kind of fun to watch kuroo in his element. he could chat with almost anyone and he seemed to know most people here. you admired how easily he could weave through the crowd. how at ease he looked in this unfamiliar apartment. you almost wished you could be more like that.

on the other hand, you were getting tired of the people and the noise. about three hours in, you got separated from your human security blanket. a little defeated and not nearly as drunk as everyone around you, you slumped against a corner and waited. and waited. it wasn't like he was hard to miss with his messy bed head that towered above most everyone. still, you hadn't spotted him once in nearly twenty minutes.

you really didn't want to be a drag, but you were tired and drained from all the energy around you.

to 🐔kuroo: hey i think im gonna head out im pretty tired

as soon as you shoved your phone into your back pocket it buzzed.

from 🐔kuroo: wait up meet u by the door!!1!

you typed with one hand as you slipped through the crowd. when you heard his rowdy cackle you knew he wasn't far away.

to 🐔kuroo: you don't have to leave now if you don't wanna im good to go home

from 🐔kuroo: nahh I'm already there anywayy I'm ready to go

you smiled lightly at your screen. while you hadn't been paying attention you feelings of admiration for the man had slowly morphed into infatuation. it crept up on you slowly. you hadn't realized all at once, but it was starting to make more sense now as you stared at the little screen.

"hey!!" he called over the heads of a group blocking the door.

you peeped up and waved, pushing your phone back into a pocket. he grabbed you by the elbow and practically threw you out the door. when you stumbled, he caught your hand and tutted obnoxiously.

"you are not 'good to go' alone. how much did you drink when i lost you?"

heat, not from the alcohol, seeped into your cheeks. you tried to pull your hand out of his iron grip, but it was impossible. not that you actually minded.

"only one," you huffed, "i think you're the one that needs help." you watched his roaming feet as you both shuffled down the street toward the bus stop.

"hmm, nah. i was worried for a bit when i lost you, were you okay?"

his fingers squeezed around yours. "i-uh, yeah, i was fine. i didn't really talk to anyone, but it wasn't bad. i know i'm kinda bad at parties, but did you have a good time?"

kuroo giggled and swung your arm with his as he leaned heavily against the bus station sign. in the middle of the night on this empty street, it felt almost like it could be an intimate moment between the two of you... if he wasn't sauced.

"a great time, only i wish i hadn't accidentally abandoned you like that. i know you didn't really want to go."

"no, no!" you said a little too fast. "well, i didn't mind it, i'm just not used to big crowds like that. or the music." you trailed off. "i had a pretty good time though. maybe except for babysitting you." you joked, lightly nudging him as the bus pulled up.

he kept his hand in yours even as you sat down in the empty space. it seemed like he was processing what you said and answered just a little too late.

"i am not the baby that needs to be babysat, baby."

"you're very drunk, tetsuro."

"maybe so..." he breathed out, leaning heavily against you.

your eyes fluttered from exhaustion, alcohol, and the heavy heating pack slumped against you. two stops later the bus had arrived at his place, but his hand was firmly laced with yours.

kuroo had been watching you closely as your eyes drooped. he looked down at where your warm hands were intertwined with his and he couldn't help the giddy feeling that courses through his body. maybe you were just being nice because he was drunk, he thought. still, it felt nice to just exist with you like this.

"hey," he jostled you a little rougher than intended. you startled out of your half sleep. "wanna spend the night?"

"mhmm..." you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as he dragged you off the bus. around the corner you stopped at a tiny convenience store for a few overnight toiletries like toothpaste and deodorant. it wasn’t the first time you had spent the night, but you were feeling a little flustered under his gaze tonight. 

when his hand left yours, you felt colder and a little incomplete. 

you were still half asleep, but you listened as best you could as kuroo blathered on about his favorite tea. when you made your way up to the counter, he dumped a pile of snacks along with your things.

as he was attempting to slur out something along the lines of an argument for him to pay, you were already handing the sleepy cashier your cash. thanking the worker, you moved with him to the exit and he slipped his hand back into yours.

you couldn't help the dumb smile plastered on your face even as he sloppily keyed into his place. this time it didn't feel so bad when his hand left yours. in a flash, he had thrown out some sweatpants and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed.

you quickly changed and headed for the couch where kuroo was already sprawled out, rifling through the snacks. 

“hey, movie?” he asked, glancing over at you as you settled in beside him. when your thighs brushed against one another neither of you made and move to part. you nodded and hummed, a little less tired now. while he clicked through dozens of titles, you reached for a small bag of chips on the low coffee table. “got those for you.” he mumbled before you could ask if you could have them. “you like those right?” 

“yeah...uh, yeah, i do.” you bit the inside of your cheek.

“this look good?” 

you looked up at the title card of some film you had heard good reviews on. truly, it didn’t really matter to you either way. “yeah, play it.” 

only about ten minutes in your eyes were getting heavy again. when your head knocked into something sturdy and warm you didn’t even stir.

kuroo sat back, trying to be as steady as he could as he leaned back on the couch, guiding you to lie on his chest. he knew if you kept your head cocked against his shoulder like it had been you would wake up with a cramp. although his knees were starting to get numb from the awkward half-laying, half-sitting position he was in, he didn’t dare to move. 

after a particularly loud noise from the movie, you stirred. you let out a small grunt as you tried to sit up. kuroo’s eyes were closed beneath you, but you weren’t convinced he was asleep. his arms were still wound tightly around your shoulders.

“kuroo?” you choked out hoarsely. his eyes blinked open and he flushed under your stare. “what are you doing?” 

“you fell asleep.” he muttered, sheepishly. you didn’t say anything back, but you didn’t make a move and neither did he. “hey, what was your first impression of me?” 

you chuckled, clearing the sleep from your voice. “you looked really cool and mysterious, but then you opened your mouth and i realized that you’re a dork.” he scoffed and ran his fingers soothingly up and down your back. 

“i can be cool.” he pouted. 

“you are cool,” you rolled your eyes, “you’re just also kinda a dork. you have a good balance.” you brought your hands up to more comfortable rest around his shoulders and shifted so your legs were on the couch. “what did you think about me at first?” 

“that you’re smart and quiet. you looked like you knew me. i also thought you looked really good in that sweater.”

you snorted, remembering the awfully cold night you had met kuroo through some mutual friends when the group of you went out to a bar. it had been so frigid you hadn’t bothered to dress nice even though you were going out, you put on the fuzziest, warmest sweater you owned. 

“hey.” he whispered. 

“yeah?” 

“do you like me?” 

your heart was pounding so hard you knew he had to be able to feel it against his chest. “are you still drunk?”

“only a little.” he answered honestly. “you let me hold your hand for a long time earlier and you seem pretty comfortable right now.” 

glad that you were tucked below his chin, you couldn’t help it that your face was heating up. “yeah, yeah i think i do like you.” 

“cool, you weren’t really trying to hide it.” you rolled your eyes at the smirk in his tone. your heart was still reverberating behind your ribcage. “oh, yeah, i like you too.” 

he groaned like an old man as he shifted under you to lay his legs out flat on the couch.

“did you...did you plan this?” 

“hmm, maybe.” he mused. “when you didn’t pull your hand away and dozed off on me on the bus i knew that i could tell you. didn’t expect you to snuggle up on me so fast though, buy me something to drink first.” 

finally, you completely relaxed into his hold. with your head nearly buried into his neck now you could faintly smell his woody soap. he tapped little rhythms into your shoulder blades with his fingertips, drawing small circles with his thumbs. 

“i bought you tea and junk food.” 

he laughed quietly, not wanting to shake you too much. “this is a pretty good sleepover, huh?” 

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 20

Description:

Notes:  WC: 7.4k

+

It wasn't long at all until he realized something was different––not specifically in you, or in his environment, but within his thoughts. Things had shifted, and the constant anxieties of where food and water was coming from next were turned to empty slots in his mind, slots you happily filled.

Against his will, he could think of little else besides you. He tried many things as well––staying away from you, keeping close to you, but he had yet to touch you in any way that really mattered. Fluttering glances and barely-there graces didn't count, nor did misplaced kisses on saner, safer areas. No, his dreams offered him no break from the annoyingly insistent thoughts, and instead supplied him with the endless imagination of an unchecked mind. Drowning in the image of your closed eyes slotted next to his in soft kisses, of your fingertips trailing across his bare waist.

But you would never do that.

He stared longingly at you through the gate he guarded, leaning on his wooden and bronze spear as you dug in the garden. Zakiti, your work partner, was travelling back and forth between where new trees had been dropped off, and where you were told to plant them.

In fact, he was so absorbed in your moving lips that he barely heard his own partner talking to him from across the gate.

"What are you, in love with Zakiti?" He asked, but he spoke in Akkadian, and Ahkmen had yet to pick up more of the complex words. One phrase you taught him was –

"I do not speak Akkadian," he said.

Luqa––or at least that's what Ahk thought his name was––just sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back to face front. Ahkmen frowned softly but turned to attention as well.

That was generally how he spent his working hours. Much like he had in the House of Life in Egypt, he wasted away the time by staring at you or thinking of you, phasing out at the thought of knowing you. He was sure his coworker was tired of his shenanigans, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about what Luqa thought.

Fortunately, neither of you had work that often, and after asking the stewardess, your schedules were matched up to have the same amount of free time at the same time. The two of you took full advantage of that, spending many of your days strolling throughout the city and trying the new foods and beers created throughout the mud brick landscape. Strips of gardens were scattered throughout the city, but none more grand than the terraces of flora making up the Hanging Gardens, whose trees leant over with their plentiful fruit. Deep green vines twisted around blue tiled ledges and tall, white pillars, the especially long ones brushing up against the people who came and went from the gardens. You had yet to actually enter any of the Hanging Gardens, but they remained a constant in the background of the city.

Many morning and evenings you spent in the brewery. Sometimes Ahk would follow you, but other times he left to temples and taverns, socializing with the locals in hopes of absorbing more of the language. His favorite time was coming to visit you at the brewery after letting you work for a few hours, as you always lit up like a beacon whenever you caught sight of him.

This time was no different––you raced up the steps, taking his hand and dragging him back down. Today, tarps had been raised above the workshop, blocking away the blearing sun, and allowing a little more comfort in the already-heated environment. Not all of the stations were filled, but your friend Tiamat was still there at your side.

"I am – I am doing a, uh, a way to make my beer, but with the barley," you stuttered out, barely coherent enough for him to understand.

"So... the really alcoholic kind?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"Yes!!" You exclaimed, and Tiamat laughed.

"Here," Tiamat said, gesturing Ahk over to her. She dunked the cup in her hand into the frothing beer, and handed it to him when it filled with the golden liquor.

You and Tiamat waited in baited breath as Ahk slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, sipping at the warm drink with a critical look in his eye. It was sweet––almost like cider, but it burnt his throat on the way down, warming his stomach pleasantly once it was there. He looked up, and you were still watching intently.

"What do you think?" You asked, your hands clasped tight together in front of your chest.

"It's good," he said, nodding. "You know what would go great with this?"

"What?"

"Cardamom. It's a spice, I'm sure they have it here," he said, but your brow furrowed as you looked away, a confused look on your face.

Ahk looked to Tiamat and repeated, "cardamom."

Tiamat, who look equally confused, said something to you that you had to translate.

"We do not know the word in Egyptian," you said.

"Shit," Ahk muttered. "It would taste so good, though."

"Is it sweet?"

"Well, it is used in desserts," he said with a shrug.

"That is good for me. We can – uhh, we can go to a spice shop, and we can, or you can, find it," you suggested, and repeated it to Tiamat, who nodded with a brightening smile.

"Good idea," she said.

The three of you set off quickly with Tiamat leading the way, as she knew the city best after the years she'd been living within its walls. Bustling chatter filled the streets, accompanied by shuffling feet, wooden wheels, and the jarring calls of sheep and goats. Bells sometimes rung as merchants shouted out their wares, and you ducked beneath their raised arms, giggling as you followed Tiamat, while Ahkmen trailed close behind, almost always reaching out for your hand.

Tiamat was a good deal taller and buffer than you, reaching Ahkmen's height and surpassing his strength, so she was stopped by large crowds that suddenly crossed your path. You panted as you caught up to her long-striding legs, followed by Ahk also appearing and panting.

"Since the drought, a lot of our trade lines have been cut... of course, the Kassite takeover didn't help, so we've only got a couple spice shops left," Tiamat told you as she tried to look over the moving heads of the crowd. "I think most of it is grown in the King's garden now, actually."

"That is good," you said, positing it was better than nothing.

"Yes, but... I do miss cinnamon," she said with a chuckle.

You relayed what she said––minus the cinnamon––to Ahkmen as you waited for the people, who were dragging along a group of goats, to pass by.

"That ought to make our search easier," Ahk said, and no sooner had he'd finished the phrase than he was being pulled on again, your left hand clasping his and your right held by Tiamat.

Frequent turns led you from the northern-most side of the city and into the south, where the streets were less disorganized than they had been. You tried to stop Tiamat several times to look at some of the cuisine and textiles within the scattered markets, but to Ahk's relief she didn't notice you, and kept on her quick-footed pace headed for the spices.

Both you and Ahk fell into heavy pants as Tiamat finally drew to a stop in front of a large, clay storage house, staring up at the symbol carved above the entrance. Through the archway you could spy a few people moving about amongst the massive pots and jars of sandy colors.

When Tiamat made to enter, the two of you followed gingerly, looking like twins with your hands curled in front of your chests to avoid touching anything. You scanned the room as a whole before your eyes fell to one of the merchants, wrapped up in white desert attire and a large turban set on his head. He was speaking quietly to another man, so you ignored him for the time being, and returned your attention to Ahkmen.

"What is the spice you did name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Cardamom," he repeated. "It's just kind of... vaguely brown. Like split wheat."

"That is a good help," you said flatly, looking at the pyramid-like structures of spice nearly overflowing out of the tall clay vases, most of which could qualify as 'vaguely brown'.

"Cardamom," Tiamat tried the word, rolling the word unnecessarily. She turned to you and said in Akkadian, "it's a strange word, isn't it?"

"A little," you agreed with a giggle.

You and Tiamat watched as Ahk sniffed each spice individually, often having to bend down to get a full whiff of the scent. Each time he did so, he wrinkled up his nose, stepping away with a frown.

"Is it bad?" You asked on the first time he did this.

"No, it's just really strong," he said.

That was his continuing excuse for doing it at least ten more times throughout the 15 presented jugs. By the end of it, you were no closer to knowing cardamom's Akkadian name, much less actually having any cardamom.

He backed away from the jars with a frown, crossing his arms as he scanned over all of them once more.

"Nothing," he said.

"How may I help you?" Someone behind you asked, and all three of you turned to see the shopkeeper––the darkskinned merchant who wore a turban. He spoke in Akkadian, but he had an accent, one only Tiamat could pick up on.

"We're looking for a specific spice, but we only know the name in Egyptian," Tiamat said, gesturing vaguely in Ahk's direction.

"Alright," he said with a heavy brow, glancing between you. "What is it?"

You nudged Ahk and he said, "cardamom."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, "qaqullu."

Tiamat asked for him to say it again, but she didn't know the spice, and reported so with a confused look.

"I wouldn't expect ye' to, it's off from Kuru in the east," he said, gesturing out the door with a hand holding round bottle. "Route's been cut, so I haven-been able to get it."

Before you could do it, and to your immense surprise, the merchant repeated what he'd said to Ahkmen in Egyptian. Ahk had a similar look of surprise on his face.

"Do you know of any place that might have it?" Ahk asked with wide eyes. He almost didn't notice the way you grinned toothily up at him.

"You are so intense," you whispered to him.

"How do you even know that word? You asked me what soup meant just yesterday –"

"The King's garden, probably," the merchant interrupted. "But it would cost much."

"That's not a problem," Ahk said before Tiamat could respond.

The three of you bid a hasty thanks and good-bye to the merchant, who gave you an odd look as you raced out of the shop. Crowds had only grown more thick during your time indoors, meaning you could barely see past the moving bodies, and had to rely on Ahk and Tiamat for where you were supposed to go.

Tiamat led the way once more, winding back through the streets from the way you came. According to her, the King's palace was somewhat near to the center, but the gardens were held closer to the largest temple, which marked the exact center of the city. Ahkmen spied through the tall buildings a stretching tower, reaching into the sky in white stone and dark, green leaves. The closer you got, it became easier to realize that the garden resided in a massive temple complex that took up nearly half of the city dwelling on the western bank.

You stopped at a large bridge hanging over the wide Euphrates that split the city down the middle, staring at the sheer size of the rushing water compared to the thin stretches you and Ahk had travelled down. Travellers and chariots marched down the large brick street, wooden wheels pulled by strange creatures you'd never seen before. Most chariots carried one or two passengers, as well as a carriage for goods, such as food, stone, and cloth. A couple carried massive bushels of reeds. On either side of the bridge were familiar statues––the lions with the heads of men, of which you'd learned earlier were titled Lamassu. Soldiers with spears and sheathed swords stood at their sides.

The frequency of soldiers and guards increased as you approached the walls surrounding the temple of Marduk, whose name you only knew after extended conversations with both Tiamat and Zakiti. Ahkmen wasn't aware of the name, but that didn't stop him staring at the temple's might, six terraces building the material of humans into the unearthly heavens.

However, the temple ended up not being your final destination. Tiamat led you past the tower and to the south, running down a wide street that led directly to one of the city's outer walls. Once you stood at the wall's base, she took a sharp turn to the left, and took you to one of the city's entrances across the moat of water.

Across he bridge lay farms and smaller houses, as well as another wall––though much smaller––that had been built to fortify the growing city. The sun shined a bright white overhead, allowing the dewdrops on trees to shine and glitter across the small, town-like reaches.

"There," said Tiamat, pointing out to a shaded area protecting rows of plants. Some of them had tarps set out above them, but others had more permanent shade, effectively hiding a good number of rows from view.

Ahk squinted in the bright sun to try and make out the different types of plants growing there.

"Are we allowed to actually go into the garden?" Ahk asked, a question you relayed to Tiamat.

"I've never been," she said, and began forward across the bridge. "So I'm not actually sure."

You translated the general idea again.

"Well, I've run this much now," Ahk said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Ought not to give up now."

The overbearing scent of mixed spices was quick to hit you, and the three of you slowed down as your noses burned. A few people were standing outside an open archway, the darkness inside containing several more people, and barrels worth of spices. To the left of that the growing continued in shadow, while sunloving plants enjoyed the last light of the day.

Ahkmen accidentally met the eyes of one of the people flanking the entrance, causing his gaze to shoot back down to the ground. The doorway, like many in Egypt, was raised partway off the ground to avoid tracking dust and sand into the building. He stepped over the frame, and stood blindly while his eyes adjusted to the major change in light. His squinting was disturbed when you bumped into him, muttering some sort of apology before you pressed your side to his, scanning the quiet room with a look of near menace.

Tiamat appeared to be in a similar state of apprehension, scanning the room in hopes of finding out whether or not you were allowed to be in there at all. You and Ahk hadn't noticed, but the symbol of the King was carved clearly above the small house, and those who stood nearby were dressed in deep colors of red, purple, and green––a stark difference from the farmers who dwelled in much simpler homes outside.

Your awkward glances eventually caught the eye of a much older man, whose beard curled magnificently between robes of green and silver silk. His dark, bushy brow furrowed as his eyes fell specifically to you––a sort of anger, or perhaps confusion, overtook his curiosity and he stepped forward.

"My name is Sagar," the man said, taking your hand and bowing his head slightly. You stiffened, and Ahk quickly came over to your side, wrapping an arm around the back of your waist.

"Hello, I, uh – I am here with my friends," you replied in Akkadian, joined soon on the other side by Tiamat.

Compared to you and Ahk, Tiamat looked a great deal older as well––neither of you had gotten the chance to ask her age, but considering you were about as short as a 10 year old, and Ahk was twiggy as a 12 year old, it created a considerable difference. You assumed this was why Sagar very suddenly averted his attention to Tiamat, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Like you, Tiamat grimaced, her shoulders tightening.

"How may I help you?" Sagar asked, his voice low and weathered against your softer ones. Tiamat stuttered before she found an answer.

"We are looking for a spice, qaqullu," she said slowly.

"You must be a woman of noble bearings," he said with a smile.

"Well –"

"No," you answered for her. "But he is."

You pointed to Ahk with your thumb, who shot you an offended look before he confronted Sagar.

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk said, easily recalling the only phrase he knew in Akkadian.

Sagar looked him up and down, almost hesitant to speak.

"Egyptian?" He asked.

You nodded, somewhat impressed considering Ahk was trying to wear more Babylonian clothes, but Ahkmen just looked unsettled, shifting his weight between his feet.

"I've been helping them look for cardamom for their beer," Ahk explained quietly.

"If you have the means to pay for it, the King does have seeds. The price has gone up, though," he added, "due to some... outer pressures."

"You mean the trade network?" Ahk asked, kinking a single brow.

"I'm afraid so. It'll be several gold bands or sacks of grain."

Several?? Ahk's eyes bulged as he heard the price. While he was regaining his words, his mouth fallen open, Sagar translated the sentence back into Akkadian for Tiamat.

"Mother of Gods," Tiamat blurted out. "We'll, uh – we'll be right back."

She herded the two of you out the door––which wasn't a very hard task––and took you round the corner so the doorway was no longer visible.

"I don't think I have that much grain and I certainly don't have that much gold," she said quickly, her eyes flickering between you and Ahk despite the fact that he couldn't understand her.

"We have many gold," you said, retaining most of your optimism easily.

"Okay, wait, we don't have that much gold," Ahk said as soon as he vaguely translated what you said. He turned to you and continued, "we still need to get through Elam and into Harappa. And we'll still need a lot of money once we get there so we don't starve after, like, three days of being in the city."

"Hmm..." you hummed quietly, your brow knotted together as you picked at the skin on your chin.

The two of them waited for you while you thought deeply, staring at the ground.

"We can steal," you suggested after a moment of silence.

"Again??"

"You say it all the time, that it is fun to steal, and from Kings," you said rather loudly, causing Ahk to shoot forward and silence you with a hand held tight over your mouth, simultaneously pushing you against the nearest wall.

"That man in there knew Egyptian, and I'm pretty sure he works for the King," he said quietly.

You stared at each other, iron in your gaze and steel in his.

"What is happening right now?" Tiamat asked, and at that point you recalled that, once more, you were not alone. Ahk had a similar reaction, backing up as his hands zipped behind his back.

You explained the short conversation to her, at which point she nodded with much the same expression as Ahk's when he thought deeply.

"What's the King like?" Ahk asked, knowing little more of the man other than his name. You translated.

"His name is Gidar," she began, allowing you to translate each sentence before she continued. "He is quiet, keeps to himself. He has funded building and farming projects, though, and he upholds the law, so no one really bothers him."

"Are his punishments violent?"

That one took you a little longer to figure out––you didn't know the Akkadian word for 'violent' or 'punishments,' so instead you said something more along the lines of 'does he kill or hurt people who do bad'.

"Like stealing?" She asked.

"Sure," you said with a shrug.

"He will cut off your hands and kill you."

"... oh," you mumbled, grimacing as you turned to Ahk and translated.

"Well, then we better not get caught," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

You glanced to Tiamat with an odd look.

"I do not think that is something we can ask her to do," you whispered, leaning into Ahk.

"Probably not," he said after a moment's thought. "Tell her to go back to the brewery. We'll be back there soon, I think."

"Today?" You asked, your eyes wide.

"Tonight," he nodded.

Late afternoon, and the warm, fiery colors it brought sunk into the horizon, and the stars chased after that light, appearing easily in the sky surrounding a simpler town than the centers of Karanduniash. Only small torches burnt outside the main walls, usually hung by entrances to the clay huts built up from the earth. Some houses were illuminated brightly by fire places, casting squares of light onto the ground from windows, but many were climbing up onto their roofs with rugs and blankets.

You watched the evening progress from a spot near the King's spice garden which, now that you'd stared at it for a couple hours, looked incredibly inconspicuous for such a rich store. An alleyway hid you from sight of the caretakers inside the garden, and a silver earring from Ahk allowed you a hearty, thick stew, steaming with warmth in your bowls.

With a grin you clinked your wooden bowls together before raising it up, forgoing your spoon in favor of slurping the soup. He chuckled, matching your behavior as he glanced past your shoulder, to the garden, and then ultimately to one of the nearby houses in his line of sight.

More people up on the roof––smoke billowed into the air, long shadows and brightly lit faces indicated the bonfire now burning on the rooftop. A couple louder shouts, though still not loud enough for him to understand, and laughter came from there. Ahk recalled with jarring suddenness nights spent on his friend's roof's, cooking fish and warming beer over flames. Fireflies sometimes drifted through the streets below, but what always stood above were looming palm trees, silhouetted against the evening sky rife with stars.

All he could see of the stars was through the thin gap between the houses where you now sat, as anything outside of looking directly up was fuzzed by torchlight. At least the scent of stew still tempted him; he turned his direction back to his food and felt considerably better after finishing.

"I think we take hot stew for granted," he said after a full minute of staring at his empty bowl.

"It is hard to make when we move," you said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes, you... you need spices, and – and wheat, or barley, or it will be hot fish water," you said in complete seriousness, looking up to him with a critically thinking eye that sent him into laughter.

"Hot fish water??" He repeated, a wide, sweet smile across his face that had you blushing.

"That is what that is!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "keep quiet, my dear."

"I am not your deer," you said flatly, and returned to the last of your stew.

His heart beat painfully, warmth following that pulsing depth. His smile fell, as well, as imagination––and longing––seized him, and he very nearly pulled you into his lap. Instead he dug his nails into his palm, and proceeded to thoroughly imagine the entire scenario, were he not a coward.

He would take your hands and pull you in. You would follow without hesitation, slotting your knees on either side of his hips, and resting yourself on his thighs. Then you'd ask why he did this, and he would say something suave––something like 'just wanted to see you better'. He'd raise his hand and push the hair out of your face to see your dark, inky eyes, and the red mark above your brow. And he would ask–

"How did you get that mark on your forehead?"

You paused your eating and Ahk stiffened, realizing he just spoke aloud his thoughts.

"My parents did give it to me," you said quietly as you set your now-empty bowl aside. "It was... on my mother, not there forever. It – it came off, but they did want me to always have my third eye open. And they hit it in with sindoor."

"Sindoor?"

"It is from Harappa, I think... I do.. I remember that, in that time, I was in stone homes, with flags of red and gold, and the food.. was very sweet. I think that it is Harappa, what I remember," you said, slowly coming to terms with your own memories.

"You remember your time there?" Ahk asked, raising his brow.

"Only a little," you said with a shrug. "But the mark is where everything is made, by Gods, by us. It is..," you sighed deeply, "I do not know how to say it in Egyptian."

"Oh," he said. His knees pulled ever so slightly closer to his chest, scraping his sandals on the rough gravel. "Can you draw it?"

"... maybe?"

You moved to your knees, searching your immediate surroundings for a stick or rock.

The stick dragged through the loose dirt, forming shapes that soom became ideas––one triangle to represent bread, beside two, and then a blank, empty space you circled.

"It is... nothing. It is when you have no bread, that is a number too," you said, watching Ahk carefully to guage if he fully understood. "Because the life does not.. fully live, without our math."

"The absence of something isn't a number," Ahk said with a frown, his intense gaze switching from the image to you.

"I do not know," you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "It is only what my parents did say."

The stray expression on your face was solidified with wandering eyes, trailing off to the side of the alley wall. Ahk was still in a state of stupefaction, staring at your features––the curl of your lashes, or the warmth of your lips, whose mirage always found his cheek in dreams and fantasies.

Before he knew it he was leaning forward, at last reaching out for you, fingers numb with nervousness scraping against the earth. You still wouldn't look to him, but he continued, thoughtlessly, to creep closer, his hand hovering close enough to your waist to feel your heat.

"The man is leaving," you whispered, the words acting like ice over Ahkmen's brain.

He quickly withdrew, clearing his throat and tracing your eyeline back to the King's garden. There was, in fact, a silhouette of a man leaving the garden hut, settling a tarp over the door and its' symbol before he disappeared from view.

"Give it a few minutes," he muttered back, his eyes set dead upon the disappearing figure. "He might come back."

Ahkmen sat back down on his butt, the pebbles beneath him scratching as he adjusted himself against the wall. You glanced to him for a moment, offering a small smile when you saw his furrowed brow, lessening his anxiety if only minutely.

The two of you talked quietly for a little while longer, keeping up your cover as vagrant friends, until Ahk was assured the guard wouldn't be returning. He kept a continuous eye on the garden, and was quick to move to his feet after he decided it was safe. Your hand slipped into his without him asking, a grip he solidified as you jogged, looking up and down the street you crossed.

No one.

The flap the man set over the doorway was a meek form of protection, and was easily bypassed with nothing more than your hands. It rippled behind you as you entered, but soon fell silent, hiding you and Ahk from view of the street.

Inside the garden's storeroom was even darker than the night outside––the flap blocked out the light of torches, and a ceiling concealed the sky. You squinted as you tried to see, eventually making out the shaky forms of closed caskets and containers. Most of them had lids made of pottery, but some had nets wrapped around the high necks, secured tightly into place with complex knots.

"You must see for it," you whispered to him. "I do not know the smell, or the look."

"I don't really know how it looks either, I'll be honest with you," he said. "I've only ever seen it fully processed in one of the kitchens."

"Why did you not say that?!" You hissed.

"I didn't think it would be a problem!" He whispered harshly.

"You –" you sucked in a breath, "– you find the thing, I will go see that we are not found."

"Yes, dear," he said in a drawling tone he had used many times for those two words.

Before he knew it his back was slammed against a wall, sending pain shooting up his spine and into his cranium. He nearly let out a pained cry, but your hand zipped up to cover his mouth, your other arm keeping his chest pinned to the wall. He stared wide-eyed down at you, shocked at the force you so easily used.

Your fingers over his lips.

Your hand on his chest.

Your leg slotted between his.

His cheeks were set ablaze.

"You do not get the bad part of the times in Egypt, when you did steal and make fun with guards," you said, glowering up at him. "But this is not a place where you are rich. You can not pay for innocence. Not here. And this price is death if we are seen, like it is always for me, in Egypt and Babylon."

He gulped down the knot in his throat, only breathing when you gently pulled away. You still glared at him, but it was less intense, and you put more distance between you.

"Do see the cardmoms," you mumbled before you left.

The flap settling back into place was the last sound he heard from you, your fabric shoes allowing you to pad quietly away without making any noise. An intense, overpowering silence followed, darkened hands rubbing it like lavender upon his skin, familiar and uncomfortable.

He spent the following hour or two searching through the assorted jars, carefully raising up mud lids or untying thick rope. Many of the spices were ones he'd tried before––some reminding him of Egypt and others bringing memories of the few countries he travelled to during his time as Prince. Now he was stealing not just for fun, but because he had to. He couldn't afford what he was taking.

Cardamom, who carried a sweet, fruity scent, ended up being at the opposite end of the room, making it one of the last he inspected. Its' scent was also incredibly distinct, and the moment he found it he knew most certainly it was cardamom. He grinned.

It wasn't the seeds, either––it was the actual powdered spice, meaning it was already ready to put in the beer. But there was very little of it, the whole of the container being around the size of his head.

He sighed almost wearily, leaning sideways against the wall.

If you were still here, he could've apologized, and you'd both probably be gone by now. As he phased out at the thought of you, he mindlessly stroked the clay pot.

Approaching footsteps broke his trance. His eyes shot up, automatically tucking the cardamom into his clothes and running off into the night garden, in which the medicinal herbs were grown. He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing acutely that he was now ankle deep in wet earth, though fortunately, in-between the rows instead of on them.

The tarp at the garden's entrance flapped again as the stranger entered. There was little protecting him from being discovered now, and he fled off to the sun garden, careful to not slosh his feet in the mud. It was then, when mud had splattered up to his calf, that he remembered his leather shoes were still inside the storeroom, waiting to be discovered.

Thoughts flew wildly around his head, his quick-thinking talents melting away into timed panic. Wide eyes flickered from the archway between the shadow garden and the storeroom, and then to the arch leading into the sun garden, then back to the stranger, who pivoted on their heel.

He fled into the next room the moment the steps even hinted of growing louder, pressing his back against the opposite wall, his chest heaving up and down.

Again his frantic eyes searched the room for anything that might aid his escape. Tarps were stretched taut between wooden poles, blocking access to the outside, but allowing sunlight to stream in. He looked up and realized with sickness that the only way out was up.

Digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek, he tied fabric around the clay pot, ensuring it wouldn't fall from his grasp. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself mentally before he jumped up and grasped the top of the pole with his fingers.

Steps continued to get closer, now treading through the silted earth and sparking a dreadful terror that shivered down his neck in much the way it had when you slammed him against the wall. He scrambled up, his bare feet digging into the splintered pole before he threw himself over the other edge of the tarp. A loud thud came from him as he fell on his back––once more injuring it––bringing from him a pained groan.

Footsteps grew even closer, marking the sign of running feet that had Ahk clambering to his legs, cradling the cardamom to his chest as he ran. Bits of gravel and hay dug into his bare feet, bringing with them sharp pains that had Ahk convinced he was bleeding. When he looked behind himself, however, he found no trail, and slowed his sprint as he crossed the gate into the main city.

Deep breaths wracked his chest and he collapsed partways, leaning the weight of his upper body on his knees, fingers splayed out on the heated skin. He quickly looked behind him to be sure, and after finding nothing continued on into the city. It would take a while before he reached the brewery.

He paused in an alleyway for a short few minutes, checking the state of his heel and finding it alright. Reddened and dry, but unpunctured, despite the pain being sent through his muscles. With a sigh he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a nightmare.

He could not pull his thoughts from the image of you angry, blazing with an inequality that had clearly been irritating you for a while. Even with his lie he alienated himself from you.

You would forgive him, but not for the reasons Ahkmen wanted you to. You'd forgive him because you had to, because the only other option was fending for yourself through another country and a half until you got to Harappa, where even there safety wasn't assured. But you wouldn't forgive him because you loved him, or because you knew he could do better. Horrible guilt flared in his chest, turning to bile in the back of his throat.

Whether or not you intended this reaction, it was there nonetheless, and Ahkmen did his best to force it down with logic. It wasn't a big deal. He could do better. And, he supposed, he got the cardamom, so that had to count for something.

His hands were still wrapped around the pot discreetly when he entered the vacant city plaza, heading quickly down the steps into the brewery. From the entrance he could hear the soft sounds of burning fire, and when he pulled away the door he noticed immediately warm light and soft voices, stirring with a mixer that clunked gently against the side of the cauldron.

The two of you went quiet when Tiamat noticed Ahk standing awkwardly at the doorway. He glanced between you before reaching into his clothes, pulling out the cask of cardamom so highly coveted in the last couple hours.

Tiamat gasped, a wide grin instantly spreading across her face. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"You did get it?" You asked, stepping around the boiling pot to stand in front of Ahk.

"Yeah," he said, still reeling from his escape. "Almost got caught. I had to jump over the tarps 'round the sun garden."

"Jump??" You asked.

"Well – more vaulting over them," he said. That didn't clear it up at all, but you were grateful anyways.

He sat in the corner of the limestone room, watching you and Tiamat mix a handful of the spice in the large cauldron, and testing the scent as you stirred. You continued to talk in hushed whispers of Akkadian, your shadows casted long against the low fire. Sleepiness was already beginning to take over him, leaning his head back against the cool wall, and letting his eyes slip shut.

When he came to, Tiamat had gone, and you were left alone to tend to your beer. You still stood atop a box that lifted you up to look over the jug, slowly stirring the thick mixture. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the strands of your hair that fell in front of your eyes casted shadows on your cheeks and brow.

After a yawn and a stretch, he lifted himself to stand, and shuffled over to your side.

"I'm sorry for endangering you," he said quietly, hesitant to look and even more hesitant to touch.

"I do not know that word," you said without looking up.

"Putting you in a place where you might get hurt."

"Oh," you glanced up to him, but didn't linger before you returned to the vat. "It is okay. I know you do not know very much better."

"It's not really okay, I should've thought beyond my own nose."

"A little," you agreed before falling silent.

After a minute he asked, "is there a way I can make it up to you?"

"You had the cardamom, that is good," you chuckled. "But you almost got caught?"

"Ah, that," he said with a long sigh that made you giggle again.

He recited to you the events of the evening that progressed after you left. He conveniently left out a few details––such as almost crying because he'd upset you––but included how he'd injured himself, how the garden official was hot on his trail, and how he accidentally left his shoes in the storeroom. You nodded along.

A beat of silence passed after his story ended, broken only by the bubbling of beer.

"You are filthy," you said.

"Thanks," he said with a frown.

You set a lid over the cask, feeding the fire only a little more before you stepped down from the pedestal.

"I know where we must go," you said, stopping in front of him to look up and meet his eye.

"To bed?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

His heated skin finally calmed down enough to feel a cool breeze as you led him out of the brewery, and back into the empty town center. For a few minutes you walked in silence, and every now and then you'd turn down a street, directions he thoughtlessly followed.

The scent of water hit him before he saw it, and soon the brick path led out to a crystal-white terrace, holding descending steps on either side of the raised platform. Below sloshed the inky waters of the canal, reflecting his warped features. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was halted when you took his hand, gently pulling him down the glazed brick steps. Their tops were white, and the rims beneath carried a familiar shade of blue.

Olive-colored trees grew on the riverside, barely reaching any taller than the platform that now stood proud above him. Only a single other person was there––a bald man drifting on a skiff at the other bank of the river. He was easy to ignore, which you did gladly, and continued to pull Ahk to the riverside.

"You have dirt," you said, scanning him up and down. "And here is where you do clean your body. This is your forever. No more of the home baths, and your smelly things."

"You mean my lavender?"

"Etuvaka. You know what I say," you said with a stern look.

"I know," he said quietly, sitting on the ledge of the stone dock with his feet swinging in the water.

You took a seat beside him, slipping off your shoes and rolling up your pants before you dipped your legs in beside his.

"How are your feet?" You asked.

"Alright," he said as he massaged the bottoms of them. "I thought they were bleeding, but they aren't, so I must be alright."

"Take your clothe off," you said, suddenly moving up to your knees and scooting behind his back.

He chuckled but undid the tie around his waist, pulling the green shawl off his shoulders. It fell easy to the crook of his elbow, and you tugged it down further, eventually pulling the fabric out from being tucked into his skirt, and tossing it aside to the marble floor.

"You have... color," you said quietly after a moment of just staring at his back.

"Sort of dark? Like dirt?" He asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at you, but settling for staring at the wall beside him.

"A little," you said.

Your fingers touched the top of his spine, trailing down the bumps and ridges showing prominently through the skin of a man overworked and weary. When you pressed harder, even slightly, he hissed and jerked away.

"Careful there," he said, clearing his throat to mask his whimper.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Ahk continued to wash his feet and legs free of the mud while you stayed knelt behind him, your touch brushing against him every so often. He finished rather quickly, but enjoyed your hesitant fingers so greatly that he pretended to keep washing himself, hoping to feel you at his back and shoulders again.

"You are Shu fully equipped," you began to murmur, your palms settling on his shoulders and digging softly into the skin. "You have not been taken to the God's place of execution, for you are covered with the kenu-garment. You were not made to enter into the God's place of execution, for you are the Great One, baboon-shaped; you have not entered into the God's place of execution, the knife has no power over you."

He sat in silence for another moment, his mouth hanging subconsciously open.

"That was... perfect Egyptian," he turned around, dragging water on his leg, "where did you learn that?"

"My time in your class, in Memphis, was not for nothing," you said with a giggle, as though it was inconsequential, as though you were normal. "It is one of your spells, for being killed by a King. It is best, because that is your crime."

He could do nothing but stare, confounded.

"I could fall in love with you," he blurted out, watching with dread as your expression fell.

You pursed your lips softly, your gaze falling to the river behind him. To his credit, he hadn't given everything away, though by the look on your face he might as well have.

"I am not a person that people fall in love with," you said quietly.

[florenceandthemachine]

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.