#even if the rest of the show somehow sucked his enthusiasm would carry the whole thing

[nicholasmoorethetwittermigrant]

Help I watched Netflix One Piece and now I’m obsessed.

[miss-bakukiri]

A good nights rest

18+ | Aged up Bakugou x Fem reader | Slight degradation

y/n = Your Name

2150 words This is a bit of fluff story that builds up into smut scene. So if your looking for pure smut (lemon) that’s not what this is. I hope you enjoy it. Its my first short story. Let me know if you want a prologue or part 2! ---- As a rule you don’t let your hookups spend the night. It can send the wrong message that you are interested in something more than fulfilling a need. But then again Bakugou always does what he wants and you have broken your rules just by letting him come see you on a regular biases. Just for sex though, you don’t have time for anyone needy. Which is why Bakugou was the perfect hook-up, he didn't have time for that either. You watch him snooze in your bed, considering waking him up for another round. You decide against that knowing the pro hero needed his sleep. Instead you direct your attention to the gauntlets he left by your door.

Today he had showed up at your door in full gear, smoke still steaming off of him from a recent encounter that had apparently been very close to your apartment. You were a support engineer and his gear had intrigued you from the beginning. They looked cool but you thought you could make some improvements. So you grab one and head down to your workshop, knowing full well you might get in trouble later.

You worked freelance to keep your creative freedom so you had everything you need just below your apartment. Hours pass in a blur and suddenly big arms encircle you. “What the fuck do you think you are doing Y/n” Bakugou growls in your ear from behind, sending a shiver down your body.

Acting perfectly calm you turn to face him and say matter of factually “Making you more badass”. He scoffs and replies sounding a bit annoyed but intrigued “oh ya? How so?”

A sly smile spreads across your face, you were not in trouble... yet. “Did you know the sweat in your palms isn’t pure nitro?” You ask in a way that was obvious you already knew he didn’t know.

Bakugou starts to ask you how you knew that but then stops himself knowing that at any point you could have gotten a sample from him while he was asleep.

You explain that you created a way to concentrate his sweat into pure nitroglycerin and the rest evaporates through a vent. This allowed you to design a much less bulky gauntlet. Instead of looking like one big grenade your CAD drawing looked more like packs of explosives strapped on his arm. “Each one holds quite a powerful concentrated amount of your nitro. It’s smaller but holds almost twice the power. So less bulky and more efficient!” you explain.

Bakugou evaluates your design, showing no sign of being pleased or pissed until he finally says “Okay. Make it” You squee out loud in excitement. “I’ve rigged my shop to start the machining process automatically so I just have to hit start for now and check on it again in a few hours”

Looking you up and down Bakugou asks “you sleep at all?” and you just look away not saying anything. “It’s 4am, you should get a few hours in” he says sternly.

You miss a lot of sleep and meals when you get into a project. Laser focused on perfecting the task in front of you. Bakugou has forced you to eat and sleep in the past, claiming that he needed his favorite toy charged up for him next time. He fusses a lot more than you would have guessed considering he is ranked at #1 least friendly of new Pro Heros.

Sensing your incoming protest Bakugou picks you up princess style and carries you upstairs. You squirm and resist his firm grip, knowing it’s useless against his strength. “HEY! if you don't sit still I’ll throw you over my shoulders like a sack” You knew all too well that wasn't a bluff and spitefully obeyed him. Bakugou lays you down somewhat gently in the bed and holds you to his chest. “Go to sleep” he commands. You can’t help at giggle at the fact that he’s being so nurturing to a hook up."Oi, what the hell are you giggling at?” he asks in an obviously annoyed tone. “I know you just wanted me rested for a good fuck later but i can take care of myself. No need to pretend you give a damn.” you reply flatly while tracing your fingers over his firm chest. Suddenly he shoves you back and takes you by the jaw so you are forced to look him in the eyes. Leaning slightly over you with his deadly eyes fixed on yours he growls “You are the dumbest smart person I have ever met. I mean really how is it possible you are this dense”

Confusion and anger sweeps over you. Bakugou was really angry right now. More angry than he has ever been around you. “I am not DUMB” you yell back defensively. “Oh ya then answer this question, what the fuck about my personality says I would stick around and look after someone I don't give a damn about” he yells. And it dawned on you. Bakugou isn’t the type to make sure someone that doesn’t matter to him eats regularly or sleeps enough. In fact at first he would just fuck you and leave. But he started sleeping over sometimes. You figured he was just tired from his work. I mean there is NO WAY Bakugou Katsuki would ever get attached to some random hookup. Right? But then why did he start cooking you breakfast in the mornings or check to make sure you were drinking enough water... How did you miss this? The whole reason you decided to keep this up is because you thought for sure there was no risk of this happening. You’re not the type to miss details... Bakugou loosened his grip on your face seeing that it was starting to hit you. He didn't rush you though. It was an uncharacteristic show of patience. You stared at him. You wanted him. And not just sexually. Somehow he has become comfortable in your life. Looking back over the last few weeks you realized you would even miss him when we was gone. A small joy would flutter in your heart when you heard him knock.. you had written this off excitement for getting laid.. you had been lying to yourself for weeks now. Finally you managed to say in a quite voice “You like me” A cocky and small grin spread on Bakugou’s face “About fucking time” he said as he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. This was a kiss Bakugou has never given you before. Usually his kisses were rough and passionate. You felt this kiss through your whole body and for the first time in a long time your felt vulnerable beneath someone. Pulling back from you Bakugou traced his thumb on you bottom lip and said “And you like me.” A small tear ran down your face. You had shut out so many emotional needs and just focused on work for so long. You hadn't wanted this but somehow Bakugou got through to you. That asshole. You take him into a deep and passionate kiss. This lights a fire in Bakugou and he returns your show of enthusiasm by pushing you forcefully against the bed and holding your wrists in his hands. He begins to kiss down your chest and nip at the tender flesh of your breasts. You let out small moans as he pulls your tank top down and reaches your nipples. He starts sucking and biting at your nipples with a dedicated enthusiasm. Your whole body feels hot and your back arches against his hold on you. His head drops down your stomach to between your thighs, finally releasing you from his grip. Your hands quickly grasp his hair as he kisses your clit through your wet panties. “That didn’t take much. You are soaked y/n” he says wickedly, making you whine. Bakugou bites your inner thigh and then licks it to sooth any pain. He is perfect at pushing your limits, knowing exactly how far to go. Little bite marks now line both of your thighs and you wiggle your hips begging for attention to be brought to your puffy clit. Sliding your soaked panties to the side he takes his finger and rubs your clit in small circles but its not enough so you attempt to grind against his fingers. He pulls back and says “Greedy fucking bitch” before suddenly shoving two fingers inside your tight pussy. The shock sending electricity up your body and for a moment he finger fucks you with the intensity you have been begging for before stopping. You let out a sad moan at the loss of your fullness. Before you can complain further he lowers his head to your clit and begins licking your clit forcefully. Again causing you to surge with sudden pleasure. You hear him moan in satisfaction. You knowing he is getting off on making you feel good. The vibrations from his moan hitting your clit in exquisite pleasure. He slides two fingers inside you again and finds that magic spot curving upward and hits it again and again. Each stroke sending you towards your climax. Knowing you are close he intensifies his tongue strokes and you release on his fingers, your tight walls clenching around him in orgasmic pulses. Before you can come down off your high he sits up and pulls out his dick, red and twitching from waiting so long. He strokes himself a few times to spread precum from his tip across his shaft, while marveling at how much of a mess you are from your orgasm. “You're so damn beautiful y/n” he says quietly as he inserts himself into you, filling you completely. Overstimulated from your recent organism his entering your body sends intense pleasure through you. Bakugou thrusts himself into you at a brutal pace, overwhelming your cunt. He holds your hips tight so he can be fully within you. Quickly you start to build up to your climax with each lightning thrust from Bakugou. Stopping just before your climax Bakugou pulls out and turns you over easily as of you weigh nothing, once again sliding into you as deep as he can from behind. He reaches his arm around you to hold you by the neck and pull your back up to his chest. Firmly choking you by pressing on the sides of your neck. You begin to feel your pleasure heighten as you melt in his arms completely. “Good girl” he whispers in your ear. You feel his hot breath on your neck and it sends shivers down your body. Using his other hand he begins to rub your clit “do you want to cum” he asks in a deep growl “ye.. yes” you chock out. “I’m not convinced. Beg me.” he commands in a whisper as he slows his thrusts. You cry at the loss of his momentum. “Please. I want to cum. Please Katsuki” you say desperately in your overstimulated and dumb state. At hearing his first name come from your lips for the first time katsuki goes over the edge, pumping wildly into you while rubbing your clit. “Cum for me. Cum like a good girl y/n” he says out of breath and almost on command you release and ride out your orgasm on him. It melts over you in waves and you moan as loudly as you can through his grip. Your walls tighten and spasm around his dick and send him into his own release, filling you with his hot cum. He gently lowers you onto the bed, again taking in the site of you and smiling in satisfaction at job well done. He knows no one could ever fuck you as good as he does. You love seeing this look of pride in his face when you’re done, because it means you did good too. Said the right things, begged in the right ways to make him go that level of crazy. Without saying a word he walks over and gets you a glass of water and a towel. He is always good at after care. After you both come down from your highs you look at him and ask “So can I call you Katsuki now?” he smirks and says “Duh, I am your boyfriend. You can call me what you want... except Kacchan or Blasty.” You feel your blush on your face at his words and you ask shyly “You’re my boyfriend now?” Looking at you  directly Katsiki replies “Ya, if you want me to be.” Blushing now even more red than before you answer “Yes. And I am your girlfriend” you say just barely holding his gaze. Not being able to handle how cute this all was you buried your face in his chest and the both of you drift into a much needed rest.

[jingabitch]

Armed to the Fangs ch.7

SUMMARY: you grew up in the hunter’s guild, understanding that it is your sacred duty as a hunter to protect humanity from the vampires that lurk in the dark, draining the life from anyone unlucky enough to be caught. while making the rounds one night, you encounter taehyung, a fabled born vampire - not that you know that when he tries to entice you into a dark alley. next thing you know, you’re kidnapped and taken to their home, where you realise that all of them somehow crave your blood and seem to know more about your past than you do. finding out about where you came from might be the key to setting humanity free.

PAIRING: eventual ot7 x reader

WARNINGS: some description of violence, angst, pining, maybe eventual smut but not for a looooong time, slow burn (really the slowest of burns), injeolmi being adorable, argument between some of the boys

RATING: T

WORD COUNT: 3k - this one is a lil shorter!

A/N: yay hobi finally makes his appearance!! thank you @pasteljeon for looking over this for me.

Also, small announcement - I doubt anyone will really care, but ATTF is going to be put on hold for a little while. I’ve decided to give writing my own original work a try, and am hoping to self-publish my work on kindle! since I only keep 2 AUs going at a time, I will be focusing on DADT and my original work for now. ATTF will be continued when I complete DADT. :) I’m really excited about this new project and I hope you guys will support me!

series index

If Hoseok heard one more word about the hunter ‘ambassador’ who’d taken up residence in the manor, he thought he would scream. The younger ones were especially enthusiastic about you and your cat, and even Yoongi walked around with that dumbass smile once in a while, usually after spending time with you.

Thankfully, they’d quickly realized that he wasn’t all that interested in talking about you after he shut them down or walked away mid-conversation. It wasn’t the most polite way to go about it, but telling them with words hadn’t really worked to dampen their enthusiasm.

It was just that Hoseok didn’t really feel like meeting anyone new. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just that he didn’t quite have the energy to engage with anything much these days. The others, for the most part, understood, especially the older ones who knew exactly what he’d been through.

Instead of spending his time out and about like the others did, he was holed up in his suite most of the time. He’d had a small fridge installed so he could keep his blood there instead of going down to the main fridge every day like the others did, and usually spent hours staring at the miniature portrait of Minhee. It was the only rendering she’d posed for before she died. He knew his brothers didn’t think it was the healthiest thing to do, but they left him alone for the most part.

After all, it wasn’t common for a vampire to survive losing his mate – they agreed that all things considered, Hoseok was doing fairly well, even if he was a shell of his former jovial self. If they hoped he would come out of his shell a little more to make friends with the human girl who now lived with them, they mostly kept it to themselves after Hoseok had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in playing nice with hunters.

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

Injeolmi had really taken to life in the manor, you were pleased to note. You weren’t quite ready to let him just run around without your supervision yet, but he was growing more confident whenever you let him out of your room to run around the mansion. There were litter boxes installed in various other rooms, too, like the library where you tended to spend a lot of time. You were on your way there again, Injeolmi following you like he did most days, when the cat suddenly made a break for it.

You were stunned for a moment, trying to process what had happened. Your sweet baby had never done something like this before, and it took you a second to gather yourself enough to run after him. “Injeolmi, stop!” you called, but since today was apparently a day of firsts, he ignored you.

As you rounded the corner, you wondered why there were so many random hallways in this manor, anyway. It looked like it was just the seven of them (and you now, of course) and they didn’t even have any servants. You were still unsure of how the whole place stayed so clean, since it wasn’t like you’d ever seen any of them pick up a broom.

Hoseok was having a normal day – for him, anyway – up till that point. He had the miniature of Minhee in his hand as he sucked down his snack, his door slightly ajar to let the others know that he was feeling up to their company that day. He heard the ruckus occurring outside and rolled his eyes, but stayed on the couch. Hopefully, the noisy new human resident would just run past. He didn’t think she’d ever been in this wing of the mansion before, and she definitely didn’t know it was his room.

Hearing the door to his room move slightly, he whipped around in surprise, half-expecting you to be standing there. He didn’t see anyone in the entryway, however, and sat up more fully to peer over the back of the couch. A small chatter caught his attention, and he craned his neck further to see a cat standing in the gap he’d left.

“Hello,” he said out of habit to the cat, which meowed again at him and took a couple more steps into the room. “What’s a cat doing in the house?” he asked no one in particular, having forgotten momentarily that you’d brought your furry companion with you when you moved in.

Injeolmi, showing a remarkable lack of fear, just waltzed right in and hopped up on the couch to sit next to Hoseok, chattering at him. Belatedly remembering that you’d brought a cat into the compound, he just sighed and frowned at said cat. “You’re really a hassle, you know that?” he grumbled, gently shooing the cat away so that he wouldn’t have to return him.

Flicking his ears, Injeolmi just turned away, as if he couldn’t be bothered to dignify Hoseok’s complaints with a response. He could hear you approaching, still calling for your cat and stomping down the hallway.

“You little prick,” he accused, though the words didn’t have any heat behind them. Gently, he picked the cat up – and cats had no business being this big, he thought – and carried him back to the door, putting him down on the floor and patting his butt to get him to leave. “Go on,” he urged, although the cat hardly seemed interested, instead sprawling out across the floor.

The footsteps were coming close now, and he knew you were about to walk past at any moment. Perhaps if everything was quiet, you wouldn’t notice, and would just walk by…? He could kick the cat out of the room once you rounded the corner, and wouldn’t have to make any awkward introductions.

Of course, he could never be so lucky. Just as you were passing by his room, the goddamn cat let out the loudest meow he’d heard in hundreds of years on this earth. Panicked, he leaned down – just as you heard Injeolmi give what you assumed had to be a wail of distress and burst into the room, gun cocked and ready to defend your baby.

“Back the fuck away from the cat!” you cried, immediately aiming your gun at the man who was leaning down towards Injeolmi, for whatever nefarious purposes. He looked up at you in shock, and your aim faltered for just a second as you recognized the man in the painting. The last vampire. Who was glaring up at you in irritation, and none of the fear you would expect from someone who had a gun trained right between their eyes.

Instead, you watched as his furrowed brow smoothed for a second as he gaped, his eyes wide with shock, at you, before resuming his initial stern expression. “Your cat was the one who barged into my room,” he snapped, although his voice hid an odd tremor. “Just take it away.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, sliding your gun back into its holster since it didn’t look like he was a threat to either you or Injeolmi. You were about to ask whether he was doing all right, since he looked a little pale and off, but he got up abruptly and turned away from you, walking back to the couch and sitting down. He stubbornly refused to look at you again, and you felt a little sulky, since you’d been curious about him for a while, and now that he was here you wanted to ask him some questions and find out more about him.

Still, since he’d walked away from you, there was no way to assuage your curiosity today. “Come on, baby,” you said in a far higher-pitched tone to Injeolmi, squatting to gather him up in your arms. He was pliant and obedient for you as always, happy to be held by you, and it was almost hard for you to believe that this was the same cat that had run off earlier. Injeolmi was the laziest cat ever, and that had been wholly uncharacteristic of him.

Standing up with Injeolmi cradled in your arms, you turned to leave the room. “Ah, do you want the door open or shut?” you asked as you hovered right outside.

“Shut,” the mysterious man inside said firmly, and you shrugged as you followed his instruction before continuing on your path to the library.

“You’re a really naughty boy,” you cooed at Injeolmi, jiggling him a little in your arms nonetheless. When you let yourself into the library, you put Injeolmi down and he went and settled down in the one spot where there was sunlight, streaming in through a small crack in the floor-to-ceiling curtains that had been left there specially for him.

Shaking your head at him, you drifted further into the library, to the sitting area near the back. Namjoon was already there, with Jin. They had their little blood bags in front of them on the coffee table, which you could mostly ignore as long as you thought of them as Capri Suns. “Hello,” Namjoon greeted, while Jin just smiled at you. “I chose something new for you today,” he continued, leaning forward to tap the cover of a book he had resting on the table.

You smiled at him. “Thank you,” you said, coming to sit next to him. Leaning forward to pick up the book, you completely missed the way he stiffened as you sank into the comfortable couch, and Jin’s responding smirk at his brother’s momentary loss of composure. Because you’d never had much time at the Guild to pick up hobbies like reading, you’d been completely blown away by the size of the library, and Namjoon had taken it upon himself to pick different books of different genres and on various topics for you to decide what you liked reading. So far, you were really into thrillers and memoirs, but you were definitely hiding a secret love for romance novels.

Opening the book, you were soon so immersed in reading that you completely forgot to ask them about the man you’d just met.

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

Hoseok was, to put it mildly, freaking out. He held the portait of Minhee in his left hand, while reaching for the bag of blood he’d been nursing with the right, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to drink it. His hand shook slightly as he raised his drink to his mouth, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

The moment the blood bag neared his mouth, though, the smell of the blood became too much, and nausea bubbled up in him.

“Fuck.” He tossed the bag back down onto the table, grimacing.

There was no way this was possible. You couldn’t be his mate. Vampires didn’t get more than one, and he still remembered her dying in his arms, despite his frantic attempts to stop the bleeding. Her whispered apology as her life slipped away haunted his nightmares.

And yet… you smelled just like Minhee. You’d think that four hundred years away from his mate would have dulled the memories, but he recalled exactly how her blood had smelled and tasted, like absolute perfection. When he’d scented you, it had taken all his willpower to stop his eyes from changing colour and his fangs from descending.

“Minhee-ah… what’s going on?” he murmured, tracing the edges of the portrait with his thumb. His mind raced, and he knew there was only one person in the house who might possibly know the answer to that question.

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

Conveniently, Namjoon was in Jin’s study with him that evening when Hoseok came, so he could tell them both about the problem he’d encountered today.

When he knocked and entered the study, Jin and Namjoon both gaped at him for a second before Jin gathered himself. “Hobi, hello,” he said smoothly, covering up his surprise. “What brings you out here tonight?”

Hoseok frowned. Seokjin was talking like he never came to hang out with his brothers, which wasn’t true at all. He’d been getting better about spending time with others… at least until you arrived.

“I met our new housemate today,” Hoseok said by way of greeting.

Namjoon and Jin exchanged slightly panicked glances. “And… what did you think?” Jin prompted, trying to hide his unease. Hoseok hadn’t been the most cheerful or chatty person for a long time now, and this whole situation, while not ideal for anyone involved, was definitely something that would upset him.

Hoseok hummed, trying to find the words to explain. He didn’t know whether to ease into it or just blurt it out, and he didn’t know how much his brothers already knew. They’d been good friends with Minhee as well, since the four older vampires had always been together.

“Do you remember Minhee?” he asked, sidestepping his hyung’s question.

From the way both Namjoon and Jin gaped at him, he had a sinking feeling that both his brothers knew exactly where he was going with this.

“When were you going to tell me?” he said tiredly, running his hand over his face.

“Uh…” Jin started getting a deer-in-the-headlights look, so Namjoon stepped in.

“We just weren’t sure what all this meant, and we didn’t want to bother you unnecessarily,” he explained. “The whole situation is really strange, and none of us really know what to make of it…”

From what he was saying, it seemed like there was more at hand than this girl’s unexplained connection to Minhee, and Hoseok’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by this ‘whole situation’?”

“Jesus,” Jin muttered under his breath. “Good going, Joon.”

Namjoon cringed, knowing he’d messed up.

“You guys seem to have some explaining to do.” Hoseok pulled the chair out from Jin’s desk and slung himself into it casually.

“Right, I suppose we do,” Jin sighed, massaging his temples.

“Well?” Hoseok asked, his brow raising as Jin didn’t say anything else after that.

Jin looked over Hoseok’s shoulder at Namjoon, who was still sitting on the couch in his study. “Would you like to take a crack at it?”

“Sure, throw me under the bus,” Namjoon grumbled, but got up and came to sit in the chair next to Hoseok’s anyway, so the three of them were seated around Jin’s desk.

“So, Taehyung found Y/n, and, uh…”

“Spit it out, already,” Hoseok snapped, accompanied by an eye roll.

“It turns out that she’s his mate…?” Namjoon said, so uncertainly that it sounded like a question. He eyed Hoseok warily, hoping he wouldn’t blow up at the unexpected (and likely unwelcome) news. He hadn’t even finished telling the story.

Hoseok turned to regard Namjoon more directly. “How can she be his mate? He’s been eating fine, hasn’t he?”

“Uh, we aren’t that sure about that,” Namjoon admitted. “But he isn’t the only one.”

“What.”

“As it turns out…” Namjoon paused and looked over at Jin for help. Jin nodded encouragingly for moral support. “Uh, all of us… are her mate.” He cringed away from Hoseok as he said it, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion.

“How the fuck is that possible?!”

“Hobi, please.” Jin held his hands out placatingly, trying to calm his brother down. “We don’t know what’s going on either, but we’re trying to figure it out, okay? Joon and I are spending all our free time in the library, trying to find out more.”

Hoseok put his head in his hands and groaned. “Why can’t things ever just be normal around here?” he mumbled.

Namjoon, sighing, patted Hoseok’s shoulder, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. “I’m sorry, bro,” he said, the words falling flat because he knew even as he was saying them that it wasn’t enough. “We’ll figure this out together, all right?”

“This is fucked up,” Hoseok said shakily, and Namjoon wasn’t sure if he’d even heard him. “All of this is so messed up, I can’t believe it. How can the seven of us be mated to the same girl? We’re going to drain her dry.”

“Hobi, let’s not get ahead of ourselves…” Jin looked slightly alarmed, reaching over to pat the top of Hoseok’s head.

“I never wanted any of this, losing Minhee was bad enough. I can’t deal with any more mate drama,” Hoseok complained, ignoring his hyung.

“Hobi, come on!” Jin lost his patience finally and snapped, raising his voice. “None of us know what’s up, and we’re all trying to get through this together, so will you please get it together and stop playing the victim?”

From the way Hoseok looked up at narrowed his eyes, his brothers knew they were in for it. “Together?!” Hoseok asked derisively. “Right… is that why you were hiding Y/n from me?”

“We weren’t hiding her,” Jin said, offended now. “We told you about her; you just didn’t want to meet her because you’d rather stay holed up in your room by yourself all the time!”

“Jesus Christ!” Hoseok slammed his fist down on Jin’s desk. “Maybe, just maybe, if you had started with ‘Hobi, by the way the hunter you’ve invited into our home smells like Minhee and is apparently our shared mate’, I might have paid more attention to her!” With that, Hoseok stormed out of the study, done with interacting with his brothers.

In the wake of his outburst, Jin and Namjoon sat quietly, the silence ringing loudly in their ears.

Jin was the first to break the silence with a loud, gusty sigh. “It’s so hard to talk to him nowadays,” he complained to Namjoon. He still remembered the jovial, smiling Hoseok of years past, back before everything had changed. As much as he understood the anguish his brother was going through and wanted to be there for him, it was just so difficult when Hoseok was belligerent like this.

Namjoon nodded in agreement, resting his chin in his hand. “If nothing else, hopefully Y/n will be able to help him.”

Jin hummed. “Do you think we should tell the others?”

“They wouldn’t understand, you know that,” Namjoon responded. Reluctantly, Jin agreed – the maknaes had never been quite as patient with Hoseok as the older brothers. They just didn’t understand why he was so angry all the time, and Hoseok didn’t like discussing what he’d gone through. It was difficult keeping secrets from their brothers, but it was necessary in this case to protect Hoseok.

[shotosprincess]

When he loves me — Iwa ♡︎ Oikawa

LISTEN TO: “ CLOUD 9 “ — BEACH BUNNY

ART: UNKNOWN ( i found it as a sticker on picsart since i couldnt find any good iwaoi screencaps so if yk who the artist is plspls lmk !! ty !! )

｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

pairing: iwa x oikawa

summary: iwa shyly plays oikawa a song he wrote on a whim ,, and years later ,, after they fell apart ,, oikawa attends one of iwa’s concerts and hears their song,, the song,, once more .

genre: angst + fluff !! <3 ugh i love oikawa my bby but i absolutely love him and iwa together sm too ajjdjjf

a/n: 3am writing for comfort innit (•̀ᴗ•́)و smhsmh it’s lowkey so dramatic ?? idk why i was feeling so melancholic ?? but i live for the yearning anyways lmao <//3

“ Hey...wanna...hear something I’ve been working on? “

Iwa’s voice shifted to one of a far softer tone, unusually uncertain of himself as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him in an anxious hold, turning away from Oikawa whilst a deep vermillion blush tainted his shy-stricken face.

The hazel-haired setter lifted his mouth into a gentle smile, skin mirroring a similar red to Iwa’s. His head lolled to the side, and Iwa swore he felt something flutter within him. The fist which he clutched the bedsheets within closed even further.

“ Sure, Iwa-chan! “

A hard gulp. Iwa swallowed his nerves down, fingers hovering over the strings of his freshly-purchased guitar, hesitant. Trembling, even.

Light wisps of brown swept just over Oikawa’s eyes as he put down the volleyball he had been mindlessly spinning, and covered Iwa’s hands with his own. He looked up with a reassuring grin, deepened-honey gaze colliding with one of the enchanting midnight sky.

“ It’s okay. It’s just me. But of course, you don’t have to play if you don’t wan— “

Iwa swats his hand away. “ Of course I wanna, dumbass! “ He barked.

With a frustrated huff, his fingers find a home amongst the sound as they begin to delicately strum the translucent strings. His eyes fell closed, lost in the music, albeit fairly cliche, as he wordlessly played the song which was most special to him.

For what reason it held such a cherished place in his heart, he did not know. Not truly, at least. Admittedly, he had written it purely on a whim, clutching onto the fleeting remnants of a foreign euphoric high. The crazed rush of fingers furiously clacking against the keyboard filled the silence of his room, lasting well into the evening. He had so much to say, so much to express, and yet it was only through the words appearing on the screen in which he could ever hope to communicate it.

He had never even planned on sharing it. After all, it was merely a crappy, rushed song put together purely by the rawness of an unknown emotion, and during ungodly hours of the night out of all times. It was nothing special, really.

To him, at least.

And yet in a hushed, timid tone, he began to sing:

“ I don’t wanna seem the way I do...but I’m confident when I’m with you... “

Oikawa’s lips parted in sheer awe. The delicate swirls of the instrumental blended flawlessly into the angelic quality of Iwa’s singing. His muscles tensed. He shook it away.

What the hell is this? Was he...nervous? No, no, it can’t be. This is Oikawa-fucking-Tooru we’re talking about!

He could do nothing but stare intently in a silent adoration as he allowed his heartbeat to meld with the smoothness of the melody, sweeping him out of Iwa-chan’s bedroom and into a whole other universe entirely. One where there exists no pain, no sadness, no fear. One where tears dried before they could even splatter upon the ground. One where everything was happy and perfect and...good.

—

IWA

Five years have passed, yet I miss him all the same. If anything, the ache has only grown to, somehow, prove itself increasingly unbearable over the time we’ve spent apart. My stare falls upon my guitar. Not the new one, which is this modern, flashy model with a bold red design, but my first-ever guitar, boasting its worn-out strings and dulled body. The hole in my heart digs itself impossibly deeper.

We had dated not long after that night—the night I played my song to him, and suddenly it became our song. We would whip it out like a handy party trick whenever we’d hangout with the rest of the team, and it was...nice to say the very least. Well, while it lasted, of course. Highschool love, teenage love, is constantly fleeting. Temporary. That was my philosophy at least, until Oikawa Tooru appeared and changed everything. I disregarded every sense of rationality, and all for the blissful rush of romance which he offered. The sneaking out, the small notes snuck into each other’s lockers, the way he draped his jacket over me when I got cold, the tender kisses shared in a darkened room.

I loved it. All of it. And when I lost him, I missed him too. All of him.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, though. After all, teenage love is but a transient feeling, is it not? I had to drill the reiteration of my old motto back into my head when we split, so that I may never allow myself to yield to the temptations of love, or at least the attractive promise of one, ever again. Eventually, we had to go our separate ways. He pursued volleyball, and I chased relentlessly after a different growing passion of mine, though honestly rather unexpected; music.

And now here I am. Sitting backstage at my own show, waiting patiently for my cue. My foot taps a random rhythm against the floor as I mentally debate with myself whether or not my choice for the opening song truly was the best option.

I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

He might be watching.

Fair, but would he even recognize me? Does he even remember me at all? I mean, it’s been so long...

I think he’d remember something as sentimental as the song you first played him. I mean, you were the first guy he ever dated.

Yeah, keyword: “ dated “. He’s probably moved on by now.

Shit, do you think he’s found someone new already? What if he brought them to the show?

Nah, nah. That’s highly unlikely. Impossible, even. The latter, that is. It’s not exactly that popular of a show.

Right, you’re right. So there’s nothing to worry about. Hakuna-fuckin-matata, right?

I suck in a sharp breath as the lights come on, laughing dryly.

Hakuna-fuckin-matata.

—

OIKAWA

My hands fiddle with one another as I push my way past the busy crowd to find a spot amongst the front row. A cheery girl with astonishingly-saturated red hair and an almoat-overwhelming brightness about her, greets me. I scoff, amused.

A fangirl, no doubt. Charming.

“ Oikawa! Ohmygoshohmygosh, Oikawa Tooru!! Hi!! I’m—I’m— “

I glance at the front row, which is only a few steps away, as her blubbered words start to blur together. I laugh.

“ A fan, right? Want my autograph or something? A picture, maybe? “

Her eyes light up vastly and she begins to bounce up and down with the same enthusiasm I’ve noticed to be common among practically all fangirls.

“ YES! Ohmygosh, yesyesyesYES!! “

My grin widens as I click my blue pen, which I carry around for autographs ( oh, the pains of being famous ), and hurriedly sign my name on her collared shirt. It was a fairly pretty garment, I’ll admit, but at this moment I didn’t really care, and I’m sure neither did she, judging by the way she squealed excitedly and took a spam of what had to be a million-and-one selfies with it.

I finally find a place among the jumping people at the front, taking in the atmosphere. The lights dim, and brighter white ones turn on in their place.

The show is about to start.

—

IWA

“ Hey, everyone. I— “ The mic whines with feedback. I wince, wrapping my free hand around it and trying again.

“ I’m—I’m opening with a song that’s very dear to me. I wrote it way back in highschool, but it’s always stuck with me, kinda like a safety net...of sorts. I uh, hope you enjoy. “

Shit, why am I being so damn awkward? I’ve never been this awkward before a show. Maybe it’s because of that damn opening song. Oh well. Too late to back out now.

Irritated, I push the thought away, wetting my lips as the drowning claps and whoops from the crowd cheer me on. My hand hovers just over the strings. It’s shaking. No matter. I close my eyes, and imagine him holding them. Him encompassing my hands within the warmth of his, just like he did all those years, which were now lost in the past. Him looking at me, him telling me it’s okay. Him.

I breathe all my nerves out.

Him.

And I begin to play.

The awkwardness melts away almost instantaneously as I pour every dripping ounce of my heart out into the song, the music swelling wildly with every emotion I had forced in for the dreariness of these five years. My eyes shoot open when the chorus hits. I feel like I’m king of the world.

I catch a familiar set of eyes. Richly brown. Deep.

Oh shit.

My breath hitches when I realize who they belong to; Him. His. He-

No, no, it couldn’t be. Could it?

It felt too real, as if I’ve somehow managed to reduce his very existence to nothing but romanticized self indulgent daydreams of what we once had, woven into the vast vagueness of song lyrics with a naïve hope of what could’ve been. And now here he was, at my concert of all places, for god knows what reason. The colourful lights fell upon his face in the most flattering manner, though admittedly I suppose anything would be flattering on him either way. But under this light especially, at my concert, he looked nothing short of perfect. Of lovely.

But of course he was. This was Oikawa-fucking-Tooru, after all.

The chorus hits with a sharp accent. I belt with all that I am, for the boy who took a rough sketch of a dream and made it reality, for the boy who found an unmatched sense of home among those of his highschool volleyball team, for the boy who wound up so foolishly falling in love with his best friend. For him, for my fans, but most of all, for me.

“ But when he loves me, I feel like I’m floating, when he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody— “

I maintain eye contact with him. It’s scary, burning holes into my tattered soul, which I had pieced together so carefully with cathartic lyrics scratched into the pages of creased notebooks. I’m secretly scared that his gaze will somehow break it all down again. But that’s when I finally understand; it’s him. This, this song, it’s about him. It’s always been about him. There will be no one else, could be no one else for me. That...sheer elation, the unfiltered emotion which sparked this song to begin with—I understood now. That was love. More specifically, love which my chest held for Oikawa. It’s as if I’ve been harshly disillusioned to see what I’d been unconsciously denying all these years, seeing him here. It’s always been Oikawa. How could I not have known? After all, I’m constantly recalling the day he held me in a tight embrace after one of our best matches, happy tears staining my damp jersey as he whispered in my ear the praise I’ve subconsciously always wished to hear.

“ You did good. “

Though it seems painfully mundane, simple to anyone else, it was...different, coming from his lips, hearing it in his voice. I took that compliment and kept it close to me for all eternity, immortalizing it within the varying notes of this song. I stare right back at him with a newfound fervour, an unknown intent, a epiphanic strength.

“ Even when we fade eventually to nothing, you will always be my favourite form of lovely. “

His eyes widen.

—

OIKAWA

My heart clenches as Iwa freely powers through the rest of the song. But during this moment, it feels as though it was created solely for us. As if the universe, as if fate itself had decided that despite the harshness of this world, and every little force fighting to keep us apart, this one moment, if anything, was ours. Truly ours. Our song, our moment. Ours. Time suspended itself indefinitely as the onyx hearth of his gaze finally met with mine. Unexpectedly enough, it stayed there.

And everything fell into place.

The song didn’t take me to a paradise without tears, or pain, or sorrow anymore. It took me to a place with Iwa in it. I realize now that...I want the tears. I want the pain. I want the grief. I want the good and the bad and the light and the dark, so long as I can have Iwa there with me through it all. I want him. All of him. I’ve want to love him enough to love his “ unglam “ moments and his admirable aspects all the same. I want to be there with him through every body-wrecking tear, every hearty laugh, and every glimmer of happiness. I want to be able to see the face he makes during a scary movie, to open an umbrella for him during the rain. I want to see the sunlight glow upon his cheek, I want to count the stars with him until I fall asleep. I want everything about him, for to me, he is everything. And it’s this song...this damned song which brought it all back.

It was ours. And I realize now...it was about...me. I mean, I’ll admit that I’ve always been a little more on the conceited side, but how could you deny it? It had to be. It had to. Had to. I wanted it to, at least. I wanted it to be about me so desperately, it sent a cold pain through my chest. A single, lonely tear falls down my cheek as the crowd around me erupts into a sea of laughter and off-tune singing from the audience.

What if it wasn’t? I mean, you guys broke up. You told him you moved on. Yes, it was a lie to lessen the pain, but he didn’t know that. What if it was about someone else completely and you’d just been an idiot this whole time? What if—

The concert comes to a close much faster than I thought it would, much faster than I would’ve ever wished for it to. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, but my legs move before I even have a chance to question them. I’ve always been one to think before acting, hence why I’m such a star on the court, but this time, my emotions seem to be taking over. I don’t know what’s come over me, what this unusual, hot feeling is. It’s exciting and intimidating all at once, and I hate it because I know what it must be. In a hot flash, I find myself standing at the door of Iwa’s changing room. How many bodyguards I must have recklessly shoved out of the way to get here in the blur of adrenaline, I don’t even want to begin to think about.

My hand freezes over the door. “ Iwa “ is engraved in bold gold letters with a deeply-etched star sticking out at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, I knock frantically.

“ I-Iwa-chan? It’s uh...it’s Oikawa. “

—

IWA

I pause in the midst of buttoning up my shirt. A solid three are left undone. But his voice...how could I ignore it? Ignore him? I haven’t heard his voice in what feels like eternity, but I’d be kidding myself if I had said I’d forgotten it. The constant yearning was always so irritating. Such a pain. At least it made for decent music, I mean, I’ve been booking shows. But alas, one problem before another.

“ O-Oikawa? “ I slowly pace to the doorknob as I twist it open.

Holy shit.

It is him after all. He hasn’t changed a bit. He remains the charming, handsome man I remember him to be, even after all this time has passed.

“ How’d you get—why are you here? “

“ Iwa, there’s...there’s just...there’s something I need to ask. “

“ Huh? “

“ That song...our song.... “

“ Shit, right! I, uh...sorry. I didn’t ask you about it because I honestly didn’t expect you to show up at all. It’s been what, five years? “ I stumble subtly over my words, rubbing the back of my neck.

He turns away sheepishly. Almost...longingly, even.

“ Yeah...it has. “

He clicks his tongue.

“ Who, uh...who was that song about? The curiosity’s been eating at me. “

A heat rises to my cheeks. A pause.

“ I—It—Ugh, fuck it. “

I’ve never been the best at talking directly to Oikawa, not since I realized that what I felt for him extended to something past the bounds of friendship. So I decided to do the only thing I knew to do in that moment—show him instead.

My lips crash against his as he slams the door behind him. The palpable tension between us is shattered immediately, and everything is faded out into insignificance. All that matters is the man in my arms, the man I’d been longing so desperately, so hopelessly for all this fucking time. I kiss him against the smoothness of the door, hands immediately trailing to his soft locks. I twirl and twine them as I see flashes, bright hues of heaven itself. His lips upon mine are the most perfect fit. His touch is painfully intoxicating, and I show him, wordlessly, with an unparalleled fervour—just who the song was about. He melts into it, matching my energy with a foreign sense of passion.

—

OIKAWA

“ Do you think...the universe is gonna try to separate us again? “ I ask softly, voice barely even a whisper. Tears wet my lashes at the very thought of being without him again. For those five years, though I was living my dream...it didn’t feel complete. Not without him. I blink them away aggressively, focusing on the night sky above us. My head is resting in his lap, and we’re simply...existing together beneath the curtain of darkened pools which hung above our twined bodies.

Iwa strokes my hair nonchalantly as he interlocks his fingers with mine. “ Of course. It always will. But we found each other didn’t we? And even after...even after this life has passed and we’re reduced to nothing but ash, I’m convinced we’ll meet again. One way or another. “

He tucks a straying tuft of hair from brushing my lashes.

“ Even then...even then you’ll still be my favourite form of lovely. Or whatever. “ He scoffs at his own over-poetic response, looking away with a tiny smirk.

“ Okay, Mr. Songwriter! “ I tease, nudging his side in a playful manner.

He rolls his eyes, bending down to kiss me once more.

For the first time in a long time, I feel complete. I’m on cloud 9.

[liskantope]

Hopefully this will be my last-ever post complaining about what someone said on social media, because current events are simmering down and once they’ve reached a moderate enough hum I’m going to redouble my previous efforts to stay away from it. But the particular interaction I’m going to describe seems to have furthered my progress slightly in understanding why so many people shout their views in the way that they do and how I should learn to better accept it.

One of my “closest” Facebook friends for over a decade, whose life’s passion nowadays revolves around anti-racist work (mainly in childhood education; she is white) posted a few hours after Biden’s victory was officially called last Saturday to preach that white Biden-voters shouldn’t claim any of the credit for his victory because it was BIPOC and particularly black women who carried this election (her justification for why they “carried us” was that as a demographic group most of them voted for Biden while as a demographic group a majority of white people voted for Trump), and that nothing will be better now except for who is in the White House because “whiteness and white supremacy have not disappeared” and that “your” responsibility is not diminished and “you” are not absolved as a good white person. She ended with an exhortation to bow down and “bend your knees” to BIPOC for “saving our asses”.

(Just realized looking back at her post to write this one that the phrasing was not “bend the knee” as I repeatedly misread at the time, assuming that it was a direct reference to Game of Thrones of which I know she’s a fan, and having recently listened to this insightful 8-minute Sam Harris podcast episode which used the phrase. This is slightly unfortunate since it was the obnoxiousness of that particular phrasing which tipped me over to acting against my better judgment in not just ignoring this like I have with so many dozens of other statements. I still find it obnoxious, though, and sanctimonious, and terrible messaging, and using poor arguments about causation, and reflecting an insistence on viewing as much as possible in terms of race at all times, and the epitome of identity politics.)

So yeah, after waiting a couple of days, I broke my usual silence and wrote a very polite but argumentative response that turned out to be enough paragraphs to make me feel a little embarrassed that I would take that much of my time on it. I knew there was virtually no chance of convincing her of anything substantial, but I figured just maybe some insight into how foreign and alienating this “you are responsible for what everyone of your color does and are never good enough and have to kneel in deference to those of a color which is” messaging is bound to be to anyone who’s less in an academic bubble than we are (which is, like, most people). I made the point that individual BIPOC didn’t contribute any more than individual white people did to Biden’s victory and that if we’re going to judge blocs of voters according to race we should be blaming Cuban-Americans for Biden’s loss in Florida, and that in fact Trump gained votes from among BIPOC and lost white male votes since four years ago. I wrote that implying that the only salient feature of us individuals is race is exactly what people complain about when they use the term “identity politics” and that the results of this election suggest that maybe we’re doing something wrong with our messaging.

It wasn’t a disaster. I got a very cordial response which completely avoided ad hominem and at least engaged the points I had made while clarifying her views. I didn’t find the supposed rebuttals of my points at all convincing, of course. For instance, my complaint about treating individual voters as merely people of a certain color was met with “It’s important in anti-racist scholarship to be able to analyze demographic trends in terms of race” (I would... never disagree with this?) and that focusing on individuals allows people to only look at their own actions and those of their friends and feel too good about themselves. She also expressed skepticism about my statistics about where Trump gained/lost support, which I was able to back up with a quick Google search which pulled up a Vox article among others (I thought it was only the insufficiently committed white liberals like me who sucked at Googling?). But her own views, while still resting on axioms I fundamentally differ on, just sounded a lot more reasonable when restated? E.g. “Moments like this shouldn’t be centered on whiteness” and “the ‘good white liberals’ should be aware that they aren’t as a big of a demographic in our race as they should be” (I don’t know any white liberal who would disagree or who doesn’t realize that white people vote majority Republican or is okay with that?) and that the bowing and bending the knee was not “a literal statement” but simply meant to convey that we should greatly respect how BIPOC voters contribute. She ended with providing a long list of anti-racist activists (the only one of whom I’m familiar with is Ally Henny, who I mainly remember for statements about how I’m encased in so many layers of racism that I would never be able to peel them off if I spent my whole lifetime doing nothing but trying) as a “starting point” of study.

I replied thanking her for pointing me to sources and agreeing with her implication that I should read more with a mind towards understanding what they’re saying before spouting off any more opinions. (Guess I have to make good on that promise now.) I made clear that I see a difference between her restatements and the way she worded things in her original post and suggested that some of this might even be on me for interpreting these kinds of posts more as logical arguments when they should be understood in a slightly more poetic manner. I gently gestured towards my suspicion that the current scholarship in this area might reflect a university culture (which I am very much a part of) more than the concrete priorities and concerns of the majority of people of color, although I’m in no position to positively claim anything about this. I got no response.

Anyway, in writing my last response, a little more clicked into place for me about a different lens through which I should process all the behavior that drives me nuts in a written context online (I mainly mean social media but am being even broader than that). This is going to sound condescending but ironically it might help me to have a less condescending attitude?

The fact is -- and I just have to accept this -- that making efforts to be nuanced and to “meet people who disagree where they are at” and to aim for the truth but no farther than the truth are simply not highly-valued principles for most people (social media -users and otherwise). They may kinda-sorta agree in the abstract with these principles, but in practice they hold a much lower status than the principles of conveying anger and strong words as a sign of commitment towards Fighting Evil. Some people I know do have an “argumentation value system” closer to mine, and I know who those people are -- it really shows in what they write online. But those people are a fairly small minority.

And this alien “argumentation value system” isn’t something that really shows in casual real-life interactions very plainly at all (which of course is what almost all human interactions were up until 10-15 years ago), while in contrast social media is an environment that augments its effect.

The sooner I accept this, the more moderation I’ll be able to manage in my negative reactions. I can remind myself that there’s less fundamental disagreement on most actual issues between me and the people I know: we instead disagree on a sort of meta-level issue of how one’s views should be presented. And that issue, taken by itself, seems somehow like something more minor. I wrote a few months ago about how knowing what so many people in my life write publicly oftentimes interferes with my capacity to view them as potential intimate friends/partners. Maybe I can be a little more accepting when I recognize that the things they write which turn me off perhaps don’t come from a place of such irrationality as I thought, that the differences in our ways of thinking might not be quite so fundamental (although this differing system of values for argumentation still strikes me as something that could badly affect a marriage, say). And in the practical short term, I can ignore things that bother me more easily in the future -- instead of feeling like I’m on a tilted playing field where everyone else gets to vent without inhibition while I have to carefully monitor and qualify everything I say, I can try to just round a lot of this off in terms of different preferred writing styles and somehow that bothers me less?

A similar underlying principle holds for the things that annoy me on dating profiles, what with the collective obsession with dogs and boasts of being “fluent in sarcasm” and so on. This probably doesn’t reflect much about the way the creators of these profiles actually are as humans in real life. Not that many single women really view their dogs as the most interesting thing that ever was or will be about their lives. They just choose to have a certain style of exposition about themselves because of peculiarities of the environment of online dating sites/apps, where showing enthusiasm and individuality in some way seems to pay and the topic of dogs would seem like a pretty safe place to direct this performed enthusiasm. Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t demonstrate some aspect of incompatibility with me or that I’m not going to be more instantly attracted to those with profiles that have more refreshing things to say than stuff about how amazing dogs are or of those who *gasp* actually prefer cats or *deeper gasp* prefer not to have pets at all. But it means that I can read the dogs-and-sarcasm-enthusiast profiles a little more charitably maybe?

This slightly altered mindset is a far from perfect solution, but I think it helps. A lasting three-quarters-of-the-way disconnect from social media entirely still needs to be a goal at this point.

[cptnsantiago]

take me home

2/?

~ all i want for christmas is your name

read on ao3

Everyone expects baby Peralta-Santiago to arrive early. It’s a Santiago child, they’re all early. Amy had expected, or  hoped, that early meant after Christmas but before the new year. That’s not the case. 

She instead decides to begin her journey into the world on the coldest night of the year, only four days from Christmas. Amy feels the first contractions at 4am, after spending the whole night attempting to find a comfortable position. All the while Jake snores next to her,  taunting her. 

She can’t bring herself to be genuinely angry at him - not yet. Jake had been nothing but supportive and excited for their baby, he had been since they decided to start trying. They were having a  girl. It had shocked everyone but Amy and she had been three hundred dollars richer for it. He had cried with her at the ultrasound when they found out were having a girl. Jake also stayed up late with her, gave her massages at her demand, provided her with every craving she had. He may not be carrying a 10-pound human (maybe an exaggeration, Amy couldn’t tell) inside him, but he deserved his rest as much as she did. 

So she lets him sleep until the contractions are close enough to worry, but it doesn’t take long until they hurt bad enough to dig her nails into his arm. “Ames?”

“B-baby.” Amy winces again before sucking in a deep breath as the contraction slowly subsides. 

“Is something wrong?” Amy shakes her head, “Is… Is she coming, Ames? Was that a contraction?”

“Yep.” Amy laughs, finally smiling at Jake’s concerned features. “Nine days early, she’s really outdoing the rest of the Santiago’s.”

“David couldn’t beat you at this if he  tried .” Jake encourages with a teasing grin. “We’re having our baby?”

“We’re having our baby.” Amy cries happily, shifting closer to him so he can wrap his arms around her, “I love you.”

The next 15 hours are a blur. Jake is a lot calmer than she expected - not like in every movie or TV show ever where the dad freaks out and faints at the sight of anything gooey - but he stays calm, he guides her through her breathing exercises and offers physical support when she needs it. Jake gets the nurse to back off when she congratulates them on a Christmas baby, because he knew how stressed she was about the dessert she definitely wasn’t bringing for Christmas. He’s really the perfect partner. 

Amy remembers the days of feelings simmering just under the surface and thinking to herself,  Jake is way too immature. It would never work  . Before Jake, Amy thought that being right was everything. Against David, Amy always had to be right and could never lose an argument without lowkey being the end of the world for her. She had never liked being wrong, but she wears this misconception with a badge of pride because there is  no one  else Amy could imagine or  want  to do all this with. 

Jake Peralta was her person. And they had a baby girl together. 

A baby girl born at 7:37pm on December 21st. Seven pounds, twenty inches. A baby girl whom they keep calling Baby Girl Peralta-Santiago because she had been cursed with decisive cops as parents who were apparently indecisive in every other way. 

It’s not really at the top of their priorities - they’re busting adoring every inch of her wriggling in her mother’s arms. Amy traces with her finger the dark hair that peaks from under her hospital issued beanie, over her eyebrows and past her blinking and confused eyes down to her cheeks, nose, lips and chin. “She’s actually your twin, you’re just born many years apart. This is a scientific discovery, babe!” 

Amy rolls her eyes at his quiet enthusiasm, her fingers moving back to stroke their daughters cheeks. “Santiago’s just have strong genes.”

“That’s why you’re all so gorgeous of course. Thanks Victor and Camila!” Jake slides closer behind Amy so she can rest her head against him, and both of them are able to watch their daughter attempt to focus on something. “What’s your name, mija?”

The post baby hormones are almost more of a bitch than her pregnancy, so she has to take a moment to pull herself together at Jake saying  mija to their daughter . “Por favor, no te pongas de acuerdo con Naomi. He just wants to name you after Nakatomi plaza and we have to stick together so he can’t trick us!” 

“Oh  please  , Ames. You were the one trying to name her Hermione.” Jake scoffs, “She’s gonna end up being Baby Girl forever. We can’t even make that work! People will think we’re trying to copy Friends!”

“Her name is definitely not baby girl. We’re going to figure it out, let’s just enjoy her and fall asleep.”

~ 

They leave the hospital without a name. The nurse informs them that they have two weeks to decide and get the paperwork in. But the time restriction somehow stresses her out more than picking the perfect name, combined with Christmas being in two days and not having any presents or an outfit for her to wear. 

Jake holds her hand the whole time she rants, just as he always did, his eyes shifting occasionally to the tiny newborn sleeping in the bassinet next to their bed. “Ames, take a deep breath. I’m almost certain she’ll forgive us if she doesn’t have any presents at four days old, and Charles already told me he found four potential Christmas outfits.”

“What would I do without Charles?” Amy sighs happily, turning to run a hand through Jake’s sleepy curls. “What would I do without you?” 

Jake leans forward so their foreheads were touching, both leaning into the quiet moment with only their breathing and tiny baby snores and grunts in the background. He kisses the side of her mouth, his heart warming as a small but tired smile creeps on her face. “We should probably sleep while she’s sleeping.”

“I still have so much to prepare.” Amy whines, her head falling down to his shoulder. 

“Just a little nap, Ames. I’m sure she’ll be screaming at us soon enough for the boob.”

~

It’s a lot of the same for them. Sleep, feed baby girl with no name, change diaper, attempt to think about Christmas, sleep more, eat when Charles comes over with food, brainstorm baby names, and sometimes even more sleep. 

A tradition of their own since they had moved in together was to stay in on Christmas Eve, watching  Harry Potter  and stay up till midnight so they could open each other’s presents - it was a little harder this year. Jake was holding a milk drunk, almost four day old baby in one arm while his other was wrapped around his half asleep wife, trying himself not to fall asleep while Harry fought off Voldemort for the first time. 

Even when he wasn’t nodding off himself, his eyes were usually on the baby in his arms. Charles had gone all out in the baby Christmas outfit department. She had on a thick red headband with a bow on the side, snowflakes printed all over with matching pants, a onesie that read ‘My 1st Christmas!’ and a knitted cardigan over the top to keep her warm. Jake was afraid of the parents he and Amy were becoming, because they both  loved  it. She looked so  cheesy  but it was the cutest thing in the world, and they even did their own mini photoshoot before she started screaming to be fed. 

So here Jake was, surrounded by his family - a milk drunk baby and his wife fast asleep on his shoulder. The baby in his arm begins to squirm, grunting and opening her eyes. “Cómo te llamas, mija?” Jake’s heart warms as she meets his eyes, “Angelica? Eliza? Peggy? Or no Schyler sister names?”

“Absolutely not.” Amy mumbles next to him, eyes still closed. 

“Eliza isn’t a bad name.” Jake replies with a frown. 

Amy opens her eyes, stretching and looking at their baby. “She doesn’t look like an Eliza.”

At that, she grunts and her face contorts in a grimace. 

“Gotcha, no Eliza.” Jake snorts, both him and Amy watched in amazement as she continues to grimace before closing her eyes again and smiling. “Ames! She smiled, definitely not Eliza! She must have hated Eliza.”

“That, or she passed gas.” Amy giggles, pinching her nose. “Hey, look at the time.”

“Midnight! Happy Christmas!” Jake whispers, stroking her cheek lightly before turning to peck Amy on the lips. “Merry Christmas, I love you.”

“Merry Christmas…” Amy sighs happily, closing her eyes again for a moment. “Already four days old and she’s about to face the most chaotic day of the year.”

“We can just skip it?” Jake questions, his voice squeaking as he tries to believe his own words. “I know it’s crazy, but who expects us to go out with a four day old for more than half an hour?”

“My parents is who.” She shakes her head, “Maybe we can be late?”

“Wow you  are  sleep deprived.” Jake laughs softly, “What if we’re late  and we leave early?”

“You’re talking crazy talk now!” Amy snorts, biting her lip as to not disturb the sleeping baby. “I’m getting sick of calling her baby girl, seriously.”

Jake nods in agreement and they fall into a peaceful silence, with only the sounds of the city and Harry Potter in the background. She never thought it would be  this impossible to choose a name for their baby. The baby wrapped up in Jake’s arms was too perfect to have their name rushed. 

The time they spent  trying  , and waiting for results and keeping it a secret from Boyle - it all lead to this moment. Not so much her being born, even though that was a  huge  deal, but being given her name. She had to live with it for whole life (unless she  wanted to change it  - they had both been very adamant in supporting this potential for their daughters future). Maybe they were overthinking it, and the fact that they’ve had a combined thirteen hours sleep in the last two days wasn’t helping them make a choice. 

“Maybe we should revisit some names?” Jake offers, and Amy’s certain he’s read her mind.

“Okay, yeah. Good idea.” Amy agrees, “But no Naomi.”

“Yeah! I get it! Naomi’s out of the picture!” Jake tips his head back in laughter, which wakes the infant in his arms. They’re lucky she doesn’t cry, but just stares up at her father again. “Good you’re awake, we need your help.”

“Now should we go over the suggestions from the squad?” Amy looks to her phone, which has an extensive list. 

“I mean, Rosa’s suggestion is Kid and Charles insists on Charlotte, so no?” Jake shifts the baby so she’s resting on his bent knees. This way she’s able to attempt to look at the both of them while fighting off sleep again. “I think I have an idea…”

“Do tell.” Amy’s not looking at him but looping her pointer finger so she can grip tightly onto it. 

“So I thought Luna-”

“Jake we agreed no character names!” Amy groans, pouting up at him.

“I  know but hear me out, Ames. I’ve thought about this.” Jake’s eyes begin to shimmer, either from tiredness or pure affection, she can’t tell but she knows he’s sincere. “So I thought Luna Rey, for a few reasons. So first, they both have a meaning in Spanish, right?”

“Moon King?” Amy snorts, “That barely makes sense.”

“Ah, but they have meaning. Rey has more of a meaning of Captain Holt to me, and he’s your mentor and best friend after- nevermind he’s your best friend. But also Captain Holt is basically king of the precinct, so it totally works.” Amy can’t really fight that, so she nods and waits for him to continue. “ And Luna, because, well you probably don’t remember because you were deliriously tired but there was a full moon the night she was born. And I stood with her in my arms by the window and just thought about how beautiful they both were. Our baby, and the moon - except she’s prettier. So Spanish meaning, boom!

Okay... So, uh, reason one was basically all my reasons meshed together, and I’m too tired to put up a proper argument for you right now  however  , my final statement. Luna Rey Santiago-Peralta, has both personal and cultural meaning while also happening to be named after two  badass characters that we both love. Rey and Luna Lovegood. Debate over.”

Amy’s lack of sleep is the only reason she’s unable to keep the tears at bay as she laughs at her husband. The first time she had heard the name Luna, she had been so vehemently against it but now after hearing Jake’s case, she can’t remember those protests. 

“Luna? Es ese es tu nombre?” Amy whispers, her heart expanding five sizes as she says it out loud. She doesn’t react like the last time, but she does attempt to pull Amy’s finger into her mouth. “Luna Rey Santiago-Peralta.”

“We’d like to formally apologise for giving you too long of a name.” Jake chuckes, “Do you really like it?”

“Yes, I do.” Amy sniffles, smiling at him brightly. “I’ve really turned you into a debate genius.”

“Only for Luna. It’s what she deserves.” Jake teases with a kiss to Amy’s nose before his eyes drift back to Luna. “It’s really her first Christmas, I’m too tired to process any of this.”

“Happy Christmas, Luna.” 

“The happiest of Christmases, to both of you.”

[iminyourhandskara]

A Second Schott At Love - Chapter 1.

“Worst weekend ever. Drink at 6?” That’s all Winn had written in his text to Mon-El; the latter only got to read it about an hour later, since he was too busy cuddling his new girlfriend, Kara. Contrarily to what his friend said, this had been Mon-El’s best weekend ever. Valentine’s Day had surely become his favorite festivity: “Sure.” he replied anyway.

Perfectly on time, Winn arrived to the Alien Bar with a frown, “I’m assuming that the first round is on me.” The mixologist said, “Wanna talk about it?” “Drink first, story later.” “Yes sir.” “Remember when I told you that I had a date? On Valentine’s day?” “Yes.” “Well, it didn’t go well. It was so awkward, she was..” Mon-El raised an eyebrow, “How?” “Kinda rude to the waiter? Aggressive? I mean, she was hot. A really hot Valeronian. But definitely not the type I should go after..” “I’m sorry to hear that, buddy.” “Yeah, me too. I wish I didn’t feel this strong connection to any pretty person I see, you know? James always says that to me, he says I fall too fast and I should take things slow. Maybe it’s time I follow that advice.” “Winn, there’s plenty of dolphins in the sea.” “You mean fish?” “Wait, dolphins aren’t fish?” “One, the saying goes ‘There’s plenty of fish in the sea’ and two, no, dolphins aren’t fish. They’re mammals.” “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, this should be the part where you console me, it’s not biology class.” “Right..Anyway, you are a truly amazing person, you’ll find love when you least expect it. Trust me.” “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever told me. If in a year, we’re not dating anyone, we’re getting married.” Mon-El laughed, “Yeah, actually about that…” “Mon-El!” Rhonda called him in the kitchen, “Sorry! I have to go now! I’ll talk to you later.” “Pff, go ahead, live your happy life, while I drink my pain away.” “Lighten up, bro. I know I’m right.” Mon-El patted Winn’s shoulder before leaving.

“Owwh, poor Winn.” Kara played with Mon-El’s hair as he used her as a pillow, telling their friend’s story, “He deserves the best of the best.” “I wish we could help him somehow.” “Yeah, me too.” “Did you..did you tell him about us?” “I was about to, but I got interrupted.” “Oh.. I didn’t talk to Alex yet, but I’m pretty sure she knows..” “Why is that?” He asked with an amused smile.“ Sister code, I can’t say anything.” Kara grinned. “Alright, okay..” He trailed off as he started to kiss her again.

“Crap! It’s 8 AM already? I have to get ready for work!” Kara immediately stood up and rushed to the kitchen, Mon-El didn’t even have the time to realize what was happening, he was happily spooning her and the next second she was super speeding all over the room. “Right. Mondays. Mondays suck.” He mumbled. “I’ll see you later babe, bye!” “Goodbye!” Mon-El answered, still tangled in Kara’s sheets, “She called me 'babe’…” no one could take away that dopey grin from his face.

Kara arrived at CatCo on time, suddenly she heard loud thumping steps and turned around to see a pretty pissed off Eve Tessmacher: it was so unlike her to not have a happy face in the morning. She looked at the files she was carrying and walked into Kara once again; “Oh my goodness, Kara, I’m so sorry!” “Don’t worry, Eve.. take these. Are you okay?” “No, I’m not, but don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Have a nice day!” “Wait, wait! Is this..about Mike?” Kara felt discomfort asking that, but she wanted to help her. “No, no, but you know..It was Valentine’s Day and I kinda had a date, but he turned out to be..a literal douchebag. It’s not a big deal, all the girls go through this at least once. And you, how’s it going with Mike?” She could see in her kind eyes the genuineness of her question, with no hidden jealousy. 

“We’re good, we’re not public yet but… we’re good. And I’m so sorry to hear about that date, and you’re right, a lot of people go through this, it’s inevitable, but you’re such a beautiful and sweet girl, I know you’ll find the love you deserve.” Kara caressed Eve’s arm and tried to comfort her friend as much as she could.

James called everyone in the office for the first meeting of the day, Kara was kind of paying attention until a brilliant idea came to her mind and she damned herself for not thinking about it earlier, “Of course!” She accidentally said out loud. “Erm, Kara, I really appreciate your enthusiasm..” James said, knowing for sure that Kara’s exclamation wasn’t about the ecologists her colleague was going to interview for the magazine.

 “Mon-El. Mon-El. Mon-El. Mon-El. You have to hear what happened today at work.” “What. What. What. What. What happened?” He put two plates on the tables and sat down to eat lunch with Kara. “Okay, so this morning I arrived at CatCo and Eve arrived all grumpy and sad like I had never seen her.” “I’m-” “No, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry. So I ask her what’s wrong and she said she had a date for Valentine’s day but he was a douchebag.” “I googled this term. Douche means shower in French. Why is ‘Bag of shower’ an insult?” “I…I don’t know, but that’s not the point!” “I feel so sorry for Eve: she’s such a great girl, she deserves to find love..I just wasn’t the right boy.” “Exactly.” He paused. “But we can fix this.” “We can?” “Yep. Who else had a terrible date experience over the weekend, is a wonderful friend and the cutest nerd you’ll ever meet?” “OH MY GOD!” “I KNOW!..Wait, we’re talking about the same person, right?” “Winn!” “Yes! They’ve been in front of our eyes this whole time and we never thought about this perfect match, we’ve been so stupid!”

“We need to set them up.” “Instantly.” Kara and Mon-El spent the rest of their lunch planning this date out but they ignored one little detail. “Wait, Kara.” “Yeah?” “Will they even accept to go to this blind date? I know they trust us enough, but perhaps they want some alone time after their disappointments.” “Oh… Personally, I think they will. Should we call them or should we ask them in person?” “I don’t know, but I’m a really impatient man.” “And I’m a really impatient woman.” They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. “Okay, let’s call them.”

Kara called Eve first, she put the speaker on so Mon-El could listen: “Hello?” “Hi Eve! It’s me, Kara. Am I interrupting you or something?” “No, no, I was just bingewatching a show on Netflix. Is everything alright?” “Yes! Everything is perfect, I just wanted to ask you something.” “Of course, tell me.” “So, I saw you were really upset this morning and I wanted-” “WE WANTED!” Mon-El corrected with a loud shout, so the other girl could hear. “Yes, me and Mike wanted to make sure you felt better: what do you think about coming to a blind date with this friend of ours?” “Wow, guys, that’s- that’s very sweet of you! I don’t know what to say..” “Just say yes!” Mike exclaimed as a matter of fact, Kara lightly slapped his arm. “We just think that you and this boy would be a really good match, and he’s had a rough Valentine’s day date too.” “When would this date be?” “Any time you like.” “Uhm…okay! Okay, I’m in: it can’t be any worse than the last one, or the one before, right? Sorry Mike, no offense!” “None taken, Eve.” He chuckled and Kara had to stifle her giggle. “Okay, great, I’ll tell you the details soon, goodbye Eve!” “Have a nice day!” “Goodbye Kara, goodbye Mike!”

Kara had to calm herself to not squeal, “One down, now let’s call the other one.” “Hey Winn!” The couple greeted at the same time. “Hey guys, what’s up? I was about to watch Stranger Things..” “Don’t worry, we’ll be quick. Do you wanna go on a blind date with our friend?” “What?!” “We’ve already talked to her and she has agreed to do it.” “Isn’t a bit too soon? I don’t wanna jump on another train to disappointment station.” “One of the reasons we decided to set up this date, is because she’s had bad experiences with dates as well: the last being over the weekend, just like you.” Mon-El tried to convince him to give it a shot. “Plus, she’s a really lovely girl, both inside and out and she went to Yale! I know you would have a lot to geek out on..” “That’s impressive. What’s- what’s her name?” “Eve. Eve Tessmacher.” “You mean James’ assistant?” “Yes, why, you don’t like her?” “No, it’s not that. I’ve been at CatCo a lot of times, yet, I never really got to see her.” “Well, this is the perfect time. What do you say?” “..Okay: but if this doesn’t go well, you two are never allowed to interfere with my love life ever again, got it?” “Yes! Yes. When do you want to meet her?” “Let’s do Friday..but I don’t know where.” “Leave that to me, I’ll let you know on text.” “Okay. Can I go back to Netflix now?” “Of course, enjoy the show!” “Bye!”

“High five!” Mon-El raised his hand, “I’m gonna make a reservation at ‘Il Palazzo’ really quickly.” “Good evening, is it possible to get two tables for two for Friday night? Yes, it’s “Danvers”. Okay. Okay. Thank you very much! Goodbye.” “Kara? Why did you book two tables?” “Because we’re going too. I need to see them with my own eyes.” “So… we’re spying on them?” “It’s not spying, it’s.. observing.” “Oh Rao.”

[raendown]

I think tumblr blocked the original post from being searched but this is just a little thingy for Valen-tied Day. 

Pairing: IzunaKagami Word count: 2654 Rated: M Summary: Kagami follows his dreams to try something new. Izuna sets everything back to where it should be. They both come away completely satisfied.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

(In)Subordinate

“I really hope you’re sure about this.” Kagami was perfectly aware of the strange dichotomy between his words and his actions, thank you very much. But really it was no less than normal to be worried about one’s first time for anything.

His first foray in to bondage, of all things, was definitely something he was allowed to be nervous about. Especially considering it was also his first attempt at dominating another person in any way.

Not that he was scared or anything. It wasn’t his ankles currently being strapped in to sturdy cuffs with chakra suppressant seals painstakingly carved in to the leather. That honor went to his partner of four months, the only man alive who had the ability to make him simultaneously melt in to a puddle and run for the hills. Fumbling his way through asking Izuna on that first date was both the best and worst decision of his entire life. He had yet to actually regret it.

“Get out of your head,” Izuna tried for a soothing tone, marred only slightly by breathy arousal. “You’re the one that keeps having wet dreams about this, you’re not allowed to have second thoughts.”

“I just want to make sure this is okay! They’re not too tight, are they?”

With a pensive expression Izuna wriggled. “No. They’re perfect.”

Kagami straightened and stepped around in front of the other man to admire his work. He had to admit that reality turned out to be even better than his recurring dreams, quite a feat considering how hard he always woke up afterwards. Izuna looked like a delicious meal like this, kneeling on the floor with his back arched, arms tucked in behind himself, both wrists bounds and secured to the cuffs circling his ankles as well. The restraints left him completely at Kagami’s mercy.

To be trusted so completely by a man so famous for his inability to trust anyone was…there were no words for how deeply it had touched him when Izuna was the one to suggest they try out the scene that kept waking him up at night. Even now as he tested the chakra seals and realized that he wasn’t able to so much as sense his own presence he still remained perfectly calm, looking back up at Kagami with nothing but love and the banked arousal from slowly peeling each other out of their clothes, trading kisses and gentle touches as they went.

“May I service the master please?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Kagami swallowed thickly. Role play wasn’t something he had much experience with either but he did understand the general concept and damn if the very thought of being Izuna’s master wasn’t already sending spikes of lust to his core.

“I suppose you’ve earned a treat,” he heard himself say. In that tone it was hard to recognize his own voice. His cock was already hard and jutting out proudly as he stepped forward and took a fistful of Izuna’s hair to pull his face forward. “Suck,” he commanded. “If you do well I might let you come too.”

His partner wasted no time shifting back as far as the grip on his head would allow and lipping at the cock almost literally shoved in his face. It was a bit of an awkward struggle chasing it down and fitting his mouth around it without hands but finally he had the head in his mouth, suckling gently and making a show of rolling his eyes back with pleasure.

Kagami fought back a groan. If he was the master in this situation then he needed to stay in control and remain strong in the face of the glorious pleasure bursting through him every time Izuna bent forward to take as much cock in his mouth as he could. His tongue came in to play a moment later, sliding along the underside of the shaft with each bob, and it was clear by the look in his eyes that the restraints had already begun to frustrate him. His blowjobs were usually accompanied by wandering hands that always knew just how and where to touch to drive his partner out of his mind. To be denied his usual tricks and forced to rely only on that clever mouth of his had him furrowing his brows in determination.

Should it be this sexy knowing someone wanted to put so much effort in to pleasuring you? Because Kagami definitely found it very sexy.

It was a bit of a fight not to rock his hips forward – until he wondered why he was bothering to restrain himself. This entire scene was supposed to be about him dominating his usually dominant partner, after all, and he was smart enough to spot any possible signs that Izuna wasn’t enjoying something he was doing. A smirk quirked his already breathless lips as he petted the silky hair unbound and spilling over the older man’s shoulders. He waited until Izuna lifted his eyes just enough to peek up at him curiously before taking a handful in a tight grip and guiding him deeper, hips pressing forward just far enough that he knew he wouldn’t cause any surprise choking.

Getting nothing but a soft moan in response almost ended things right then and there. When his fingers released Izuna all but dove forward to ride the thrust of his hips. Sage, what good deed had he done in a previous life to deserve this? On visuals alone this whole venture was even better than he’d thought it would be. His dreams had always been vague, sort of hazy around the edges and unclear on some parts, and Kagami realized a little too late that he had activated his Sharingan to capture every detail of the delicious portrait before him.

Wrist bindings just barely visible from this angle, arms held straight and back, long neck exposed with the way his chin was lifted and his eyelids fluttering as he swallowed around the cock in his mouth like a tasty treat. Each time he managed to lift his eyes his gaze was an intoxicating mixture of heat and barely contained submission. Izuna would never make a very good submissive, they both knew that very well. That he had agreed to this at all was surprising but that didn’t change the fact that he looked amazing in the role he had deigned to fill for at least one evening. Yet as amazing as he looked Kagami was startled to realize how enticed he was by the idea of filling that role himself. Those dreams that woke him night after night with their blurry details made clear only by the lewd sounds that always chased him in to waking again, could he have interpreted them wrongly?

His thoughts scattered like ephemeral fragments when Izuna moaned around him in that dirty way of his that always shut down Kagami’s brain. Was he excited by the idea of being the one on his knees, restrained and used for the other’s pleasure? Absolutely he was. Did he have the ability to concentrate on that possibility at the moment? He very much did not. The rest of the world was very rapidly falling away until all that existed was the perfect heat surrounding him and the eager body all tied up in such a pretty package at his feet.  

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, tracing the bulge of Izuna’s cheeks and trying to sound much more confident than he actually felt. “I’m so close, pet. So close. Think you can make me come without your hands?”

Izuna didn’t even bother to pull away to make room for speech, his answer clear in the doubled enthusiasm and the moan of arousal.

“So good for your master,” Kagami murmured absently. His own tongue yearned for the weight of Izuna in his mouth, for the triumph of bitter seed spilling down his throat. Thinking about it sent shivers down his spine and he had to fight to keep his eyes open and focused on the man kneeling at his feet.

Embarrassingly, he was pretty sure Izuna could tell what thoughts were running through his mind. The dark eyes watching him were half-lidded and wicked as he continued his work and the more Kagami’s façade of control crumbled the harder Izuna worked to tear him down even faster, tongue working in ways that should be impossible but felt much too good to question. The heat and the slick glide of his mouth, the eyes that now refused to look away, the way his body seemed to project absolute submission at the same time that he seemed to realize he was still somehow the one in control, it was all too much.

Kagami came with one hand in his partner’s hair and the other on the man’s shoulder, bearing his own weight as he bowed under the intensity of the pleasure. Short noises muffled by the clench of his teeth made a mirror of the way his hips stuttered and jerked. Under the guise of being a proper submissive Izuna worked him through his orgasm until he was forced to pull the other away with both hands just to prevent himself from collapsing entirely or anything else that would have been equally as embarrassing.

“Fuck,” he whined as the head of his cock slipped out from between Izuna’s lips, the cool evening air sending shudders down his back. “That was…wow. Okay. Yeah. Definitely your turn.”

“Have I pleased the master?” Izuna purred. His voice carried a very distinct note of teasing.

“Gods yes,” was all Kagami could say.

On shaking knees he fumbled his way around to sink to the ground at Izuna’s back. Trembling hands traced the arms he had bound, following them up to thin shoulders and around to the chest panting in anticipation. His thumbs paused to trace circles around sensitive nipples and he stopped only when Izuna’s head snapped to the side to pin him in place as surely as if he were the one bound and helpless.

“Touch me,” his partner demanded.

Kagami could do nothing but comply. Knowing the other could order him around even when he was the one tied up had his spent cock twitching with interest already, an idea to be explored later. One hand remained where it was to pinch and tease while the other descended quickly to wrap his fingers around the neglected length waiting so patiently for his touch. Izuna let out a pleased sigh and let his head drop back to rest on Kagami’s shoulder, hips rolling in to the pressure of a firm grip, just the way he liked it.

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. “Faster.”

At his back, Kagami buried his face in the other’s neck and whined. His hand followed the order without thought.

“Perfect, that feels perfect,” Izuna praised him. As they always did, the words went straight through him until he had to concentrate a little harder to keep his hand steady. Burying his face a little farther still didn’t do much to stop him from gasping with want at the sound of another quiet moan.

“I-is it good?” he asked, desperate to hear more of that silky voice.

“So good. Just a little tighter – that’s it, yes. Don’t stop, pet.” If he hadn’t already suspected then that emphasis would have been enough to tell him Izuna knew exactly what had been going on in his head and yet Kagami couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed anymore. He shuffled closer to fit his body against Izuna’s and sank his teeth in to pale flesh as he listened for every word, every sigh his partner granted him.

He didn’t have to listen very hard.

Praise and encouragement dripped from Izuna’s lips like fine wine, telling him how well he was doing and how good his touch felt, how he had behaved so perfectly. It didn’t take very much to have him rutting uselessly against the body in front of him as well as he could despite knowing it wouldn’t accomplish much, not when he could hardly maneuver around the bound limbs and it was still too soon for his cock to fully harden again.

It was almost a pity that Izuna was even more worked up than him and unable to draw it out any longer. When his partner crashed over the edge still spilling honeyed words Kagami found himself both relieved and disappointed, wishing he had to time to chase that same high again for himself. A little greedy, perhaps, but no one had ever accused him of being a saint no matter how innocent he was capable of acting. He certainly felt anything but innocent as he continued to stroke Izuna through the pleasure and shivered at the feeling of hot seed spilling over his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” his partner gasped. Izuna loved riding that edge of too much, too bright, and Kagami loved nothing more than giving the man what he asked for.

Only when the high started bleeding in to discomfort did Izuna shakily command him to stop. He did not tell him to let go, however. Kagami kept his face buried in the pale shoulder to muffle his helpless noises and did his best to convince his hips to go still, behaving without even needing to be told to do so. The hand still wrapped around a softening cock twitched with the desire to go on.

“Was it a dream come true just like you hoped it would be?” Izuna asked him in a tone that was both gently mocking and genuinely curious.

“Uh-huh.”

“You enjoyed yourself?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you want to untie me so I can tie you to the bed and spread you open?”

Kagami tried to respond, he honestly did, but it was lost in broken stuttering while his fingers scrabbled to unlock the cuffs holding Izuna’s wrists to his ankles. That probably made his answer fairly clear anyway though so he didn’t worry about it too much. It took only a few seconds to have everything undone and he waited with baited breath as his partner rubbed at his limbs to get the feeling back in to them after being restrained for so long. When dark eyes turned to look at him he felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew that look. That was definitely the same look that had led them to quite a few discoveries in the bedroom over the past four months.

Within a minute he found himself hauled over to the bed and pushed down on his back, wrists pulled above his head and cuffed to the headboard with the same restraints he had just untied. That was all his body needed to kick back in to high gear again. Izuna leered at the hardening cock he had been sucking on a few minutes before as he crawled up the mattress to settle in between Kagami’s thighs, smug satisfaction clear in every line of his gorgeous body.

“Now,” he murmured. “Who’s a good boy?”

“I am,” Kagami breathed without a single thought for disputing it.

“Ah, how the tables have turned. How about I show you what a real fantasy looks like?”

Closing his eyes with a frantic nod, Kagami made a mental note to interpret his dreams a little better in the future. Having Izuna at his mercy had been fun for sure but there was no denying his true nature in the bedroom, the role he was all too eager to fill.

“Yes master,” he whispered. “Yes please.”

Some people were just born to serve. And if he was one of them, well, Kagami had always tried to do his best at the tasks expected of him. If Izuna wanted to help him chase his dreams then he was ready and willing to follow where his partner wanted to lead.

[skyedestiny]

58 + 60 for jihope ♥

@thisspringday

So this ended up being incredibly long, but I kind of loved every second of writing it.  Please check below the cut for the rest of drabble one and for drabble two! 

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Oooh, I have a good feeling about this one~.

It had happened so fast.  One minute, they were playing around, and then, well-

It wasn’t as if Jimin and Hoseok didn’t play like this constantly.  It was a thing that friends did - tease each other, slip into roles every now and then for a joke.  It only made sense that they always pushed it that extra mile.  Seokjin and Taehyung might’ve been the ones who had studied acting and gone professional, but Jimin and Hoseok had always had a special flare for the dramatic.

It wasn’t the same, though sometimes it probably looked it.  Taehyung and Seokjin never quite got sucked in the way Jimin and Hoseok did.  Hoseok more so than Jimin - it was always Hoseok more so than Jimin.  It wasn’t that he didn’t feel things as deeply as Hoseok.  Not at all.  But Hoseok always thought Jimin had this special ability to be able to keep things lighthearted from his end.

Hoseok didn’t have that.  He only pretended to.

But that didn’t matter.  Because most of what they played at was only ever teasing.  It wasn’t like they ever fell into anything dramatic.  Sometimes their eyes locked for a second too long.  Sometimes Jimin’s gaze would go distant and different in some inexplicable, undefinable way and Hoseok would think, ‘Man is this kid good.’  And cute.

No, not cute.  After some fumbling with his brain during one particular such moment, Hoseok finally plucked the accurate word from out of the mental pile that had built in his head.  Attractive.  Jimin was attractive.

Objectively, right? That’s what everyone thought and said - Jimin was attractive; it was a fact.  Hoseok knew that the online buzz was that people were wanting him to star in a drama, but honestly, in his opinion, the next one to get a crack at such a shot should have been Jimin.  He had everything to go towards it.

This one time, Hoseok had gotten sucked into character just a little too far.  Somehow, through their game, they’d marched all the way back until Jimin was pressed with his back to a wall.  Crowded, but not uncomfortable.  The younger stood in a confident slouch, no nerves or fear in his eyes, only curiosity at where this was going, what the next line would be.

Hoseok didn’t even really know how it happened, this thing that ended up transpiring.  Not the backpedaling, although he was kind of confused about that too.  He was smirking at Jimin, gesturing to him with juts of his chin.  Whenever he spoke, his lips were in a teasing pout.

Truthfully, it was just like normal.  But somehow, this time, things ended with Hoseok’s lips pressed against the younger dancer’s.  It lasted only long enough for Hoseok’s thoughts to come flooding back to him, for sensibility and panic to have him pull back with such force it was as if his spirit had left him and found a way to physically yank his body away.  His mind raced for something to say.

Jimin’s expression was still mostly unreadable (or maybe it was just because Hoseok was suddenly so nervous that he couldn’t decipher his look) but he stared on with wide eyes at the elder.

“Uh-” The words died in Hoseok’s throat.  “I, uh-” It was rare Hoseok would ever be seen speechless, but it was surely happening now.  “You- You don’t have to say anything.  Let’s forget this happened, y-yeah, Jimin?” His name suddenly felt strange and foreign on Hoseok’s tongue.  “I got carried away.” His chest heaved with nervous laughter.  It wasn’t pleasant laughter - not for Hoseok.  It felt more like his insides were attempting to escape through his throat.  He wouldn’t blame them, really.  At this moment, he wished he could be anywhere but here too.  Still, the panic set his lips to twist into a smile.  (Also painful, it made his mouth twinge, felt like his teeth were coming down too hard.)  “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to kiss someone that I just-”

Jimin’s eyes were transfixed on Hoseok’s.  He knew what the elder was saying was a lie.  Jimin knew him too well, and Hoseok was currently too flustered, for him to not be able to see it.  He straightened against the wall.  Jimin didn’t want lies or cute rambling, not right now.  

Wordlessly, he interrupted, reaching forward to grab at the back of Hoseok’s neck with both of his hands and pull the older dancer back to his lips.

He just wanted this.

“Happy birthday.”

When I hear ‘birthday’, I think of the last Happy Birthday Hobi stream where he mentioned that Jimin had written him a note earlier in the day that had him touched.

Somewhere along the way, birthdays became important to Hoseok.  Gained new meaning.  It had been a long time since they had really been anything special to him.  Not for any particular sad reason or anything, Hoseok supposed, but, well, some things lost their excitement as one got older.  Birthdays were normal - they happened once a year and all they meant was that you made it another turn around the sun.

Perhaps that was a surprisingly mundane and apathetic view for someone who was known as Bangtan’s hope.  Most fans probably couldn’t imagine the one who appeared on their screens as the hyperactive dancer, always smiling, fidgeting, and making cute faces and voices, to be apathetic about anything.  Stage presence could be deceiving, though.

Hoseok loved making other people smile and laugh, loved entertaining their fans, but he wasn’t some naive optimist filled with warmth 24/7.  Before gaining his place in the seven-person group, Hoseok had lived his life as a regular guy, had had experiences and faced hardships that dabbed his personality with cynicism, just like anyone else.

He was not a pessimist, and he’d never try to act that way, but the truth was he was more of a realist than someone who relied on blind optimism.  They already had someone in the group who was outspoken with that mindset though, and Yoongi pulled it off a hell of a lot better than Hoseok imagined he ever could.

Besides, the optimism, the silliness, it helped people.  So what if sometimes he had to fake the intensity of his light? If it raised the people Hoseok cared dearly about up, it was worth it.

It didn’t make it real, though.  So when it came to feeling things that only regarded himself, Hoseok just generally felt a lot..less.  (If any of the group-mates voiced concern or displeasure at this, Hoseok would argue that no one could be at full hyperactivity, 100% of the time.  It was called hyperactivity for a reason, and he was just doing his best to budget his energy and enthusiasm.)

Birthdays were just one of those things that, as Hoseok got older, stopped being special to him.  It was just another day in the year.

But, as with anyone, experiences and the people one chose to spend their time with would change you, had to change you if only in the subtlest of ways. Diffusion was inevitable.

The love he felt for ARMYs was doubled back at him, and their passion, their kindness, and their enthusiasm never ceased to surprise him, never ceased to warm his heart, and with each degree warmer he felt his heart become, his inner light was rekindled.

One of the biggest ‘rekindling’ sources was Bangtan itself, of course.  The love and support he received from people he’d come to think of as brothers was unlike anything he’d experienced before and he owed them the world.

One of the most significant sources of light was Jimin.  If Yoongi was Bangtan’s realism, their rationale, Jimin was was their aspiration, the one who could truly lift any cynicism Hoseok had about himself and let him believe that anything was possible.  Hoseok may have been Bangtan’s hope but Jimin was his.

It was Jimin who brought him to once again appreciate birthdays.  Not through gifts (though those had been unexpected too) or parties (if ever there was a party for Hoseok, Hoseok sought to make it a party for everyone - a birthday bash for Hoseok was more like a regular party for all.)  But by making him re-examine things.  “Hyung,” he once said.  “Look at how many people love you.”

Hoseok had lightly shook his head, smiling.  He’d been sure that the fans only gave such outpourings because of the simple fact that they were fans of the group at large.

Jimin disagreed though.  “These people are here speaking to you personally and doing things for you.  They don’t have to do that.”  He implored Hoseok to look at the effort they expended - look at the projects and the money that was spent to make these personal birthday wishes happen.

Huh.

And one year, he’d even convinced Hoseok to broadcast on V Live for his birthday.  Hoseok hadn’t really thought anyone would show up to that, or if they did, that they’d check in, see who was streaming, and leave.  But they didn’t.  Then, he thought, surely they would just stay in the chat itself and not participate.  His aim was to play games with everyone.

But they had participated.

They’d, in fact, jumped at the chance to participate.  And then Jimin had given him a gift for the first time, on camera.

The surprises that day had been overwhelming, and when Hoseok had managed to find some alone time later that day, it was all he could do to let some tears fall over the whole thing.

The next year, he wasn’t as surprised about the cheerful ‘happy birthday’ he’d gotten from Jimin (though he certainly was surprised to see that the younger had apparently strategically gotten up earlier than he did to make him breakfast).  He expected the tight hug he received as he got up from the table to begin his day.  The “No present this year; I’m broke” only sought to make him laugh.  (Hoseok had pat Jimin’s shoulder and assured that all he’d already done was present enough.)  But then he handed him a note.  Not a card, but a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Read it,” Jimin said.  He gestured with his hand before having that one join the other at his back.

Hoseok unfolded the note.  It was a full page.  A page thanking him and talking about his importance, not just to the group as a whole but to Jimin himself.  How Hoseok helped him improve and have faith in himself in dance.  How Hoseok always made him feel happy.  How Hoseok always made him feel loved and worth it and good enough.

In the end, Jimin had summed it up with a simple phrase.  One that Hoseok had heard often enough, but seemed to mean more now than any time before.  

“You’re my hope.

Happy birthday, Hobi-hyung.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from trembling and could do nothing about his vision distorting from tears.  Hoseok sniffled helplessly as his nose began to run.  His eyes kept retracing over the words.

Knowing he was done reading, Jimin smiled, the expression warm and gentle.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything, hyung.”

“Yah, Park Jimin, come here.”  Jimin’s arms were outstretched before Hoseok had even finished speaking, and he pulled the younger into a tight hug.

Somehow it felt like Jimin was the one hugging him though.  That did nothing for his state.  Hoseok buried his face into Jimin’s shoulder.

Jimin only reacted with a snicker, leaning his head against the elder and patting and rubbing at his back.

“Why do you always make me look like such a cry baby?”

Jimin’s smile stretched into a grin, bright and toothy.  “It’s what we do, hyung,” he said.  “We emasculate each other.”

Hoseok gave a distressed sigh, but made no move to part from Jimin.  He just returned his head to the crook of Jimin’s neck.

The younger dancer giggled, patting his hand one more time comfortingly on the elder’s back.

“Happy birthday, hyung.”

[ihopeyoucanseemesmiling]

christmas feeling

A/N: okay so I know the holidays are over, but I realised I hadn’t posted my fic for jily secret santa ‘16 over here yet. It was my first time participating, and I had so much fun. Go check out all the other amazing gifts! I hope you like it :) (also, I suck at titles, can you tell?)

college AU

word count: 3511

Today is just not the day, Lily decides. Her neck is hurting and her hair is falling out of the bun on top of her head. All her fingertips with exception of her pinkie finger are smudged with ink, it’s so late that the library is almost closing and still this stupid chapter just doesn’t make any sense.

“The library is closing now. Please make sure you take all your belongings with you. We hope to see you again soon.”

The cool voice signals the end of yet another study day. With a snap she closes her heavy book on cell biology, tries and fails to stuff it into her already overflowing bag and eventually just opts to carry it with her. She joins the stream of tired, slightly desperate looking students filing out of the library. It’s finals time in a week, and it’s showing.

*

“Finally! I thought your book had possibly swallowed your head or something.”

Lily closes the door of their dorm room behind her, drops her bag on the floor and heads straight for her bed. There’s an ‘oomph’ and then the only thing still visible from the redhead is her back and her shock of red hair that’s spread out freely across the pillow.

“Well, that sounds like it was a productive evening,” says Mary, sounding way too chipper.

There is a grumble from the bed.

“Oh please, you know you’re going to do well anyway, toughen up and get yourself together woman!” She gets up from her spot at the bureau and plops down next to Lily on the bed, unexpectedly starting to poke her at whatever spot she can find.

“Hey!”

Lily sits bolt upright when Mary’s fingers hit a particularly ticklish spot.

“You look miserable,” Mary observes.

“Thanks.”

“It’s true though.”

“Ugh I just wish it was over already,” Lily whines.

“You know, not to point out the obvious here, but you were the one who chose to take two extra electives on top of trying to get your undergraduate medical degree, so you kind of got yourself into this mess.”

She gets a glare for that one.

“Really, Mare, if you have nothing useful to say, you could consider not saying anything for once.”

Mary snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

*

A week later in the midst of her elective philosophy exam though, Lily has to admit Mary has a point. Why did she take this class again? To develop a wider perspective then just the medical one? Sounds like utter bullshit to her ears now, and she suddenly understands why everyone called her mad when she told them.

Time’s almost up and the space around her is filled with the sounds of pens clicking, papers turning and people sighing over some particularly difficult problem. When their professor calls the end of the exam, it’s almost a relief.

She’s next in line to one of the boys from her class to whom she’s never spoken, but she’s seen him around. He has this thing where he draws all of the attention to him without even trying, with his effortless laid-back vibe, and he always looks bored. Somehow, that makes him even more handsome. He shows no signs of just having finished an exam.

It’s a rarity to see him alone though. Usually he’s in the first row, laughing it up and charming professor McGonagall with his mate.

“Oi, Sirius.”

The boy turns to look at the sound, and so does Lily. His lanky friend comes jogging up towards them, his exam papers bundled up in one of his hands. He’s tall this one, and lanky, with black hair and glasses and a perpetual smirk on his face, but he misses the grace his mate possesses.

“Didn’t think you should wait for me this morning?”

Sirius scoffs and turns back to the front of the queue when the other boy reaches him.

“Please. If you wanted a babysitter you should’ve found another roommate.”

“Remus would’ve waited for me.”

“You’re so full of shit Potter. He would have abandoned you and not even bothered to wake you up like I did and you know it. There probably would’ve been a note on the table saying ‘ha ha ha’.”

The Potter boy frowns for a bit like he’s deep in thought, but then his smirk returns in full force.

“Probably. He’s hypocritical that way.”

Lily reaches the front of the queue and pushes her exam papers forward. The assistant takes it, looks it over and checks her student ID.

“Evans?”

From the corner of her eye, Lily catches the Potter boy looking up at the mention of her name. Lily ignores him, offers an affirmative nod to the assisten, signs off and goes to get her bag. If she hurries, she might still catch the next bus back to the dorm.

*

“Evans was it, yes?”

It’s cold at the bus stop and Lily’s mind has already fast forwarded to her chemistry exam tomorrow. When she turns at the sounds of her name she sees the lanky boy with the spectacles standing at her shoulder. She has to strain her neck to be able to look at him properly.

“Lily,” she says, and smiles politely.

He smiles back, and one hand goes to play with his hair when he answers.

“James. Me. I’m James Potter.”

He looks a bit sheepish and lowers his hand again, putting it in his pocket. She nods, too, and turns back to face the street.

“How d’you reckon you did it?”

She looks up at him again as he moves his head in the general direction of the building/campus and gets distracted by his hair. Somehow, his hand has made it even messier than before and now it sort of sticks up in all directions. He has quite a nice head of hair, she muses.

Her eyes flicker down to his face again and she can just feel her face go red when she catches his smirk. Busted.

“I think I did well enough,” she says finally, lowering her gaze to the papers on her lap and willing her cheeks to cool off again. Lily has a strict policy of not discussing past exams, seeing as they are over and there’s nothing one can do about them anymore anyway.

“Funny we didn’t meet before, seeing as we’re both McGonagall’s favourites.”

She has to raise her eyebrow at that, and James catches her disbelieving smile.

“You don’t believe me?” he says, mock offended.

“Well, you two clowns perhaps,” Lily concedes. “I don’t think she would let any other student get away with even half of the crap you two pull in class.”

His grin grows wider. “I know. You too though, you’re the one who actually gives intelligent answers to her questions and makes her not lose faith in all of us.”

“Been spying on me?”

He flushes a bit. “Well, no, but you do sort of stand out.”

“It’s the hair,” Lily says, and nods in all seriousness.

James opens his mouth as if he’s about to retort, but just then the bus comes driving up and screeches to a halt in front of the bus stop. Lily gets up and makes to get in, but stops short when she notices he’s not showing any indication of doing the same.

“You’re not getting on?” she asks.

“Oh, no,” he says, and the sheepish look is back. “My place is not far off campus, so I’ll just walk.”

He waves his hand in the general direction of the city centre.

“Oh, um, okay. Well, see you around then,” she says awkwardly, one foot already on the bus.

“See you around, Lily.”

It sounds so sincere that Lily doesn’t know what to do with herself, so she just gets in.

“Oh and, GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR FINALS!” he shouts after her, just before the door closes and the bus takes off.

*

“Lily, get your ass out of bed and into a dress. We’re going to the pub tonight.”

Mary kicks the door closed, throws her bag to the side and practically skips to the mirror. She extracts her mascara with a flourish and starts applying her make-up.

The pile of blankets on Lily’s bed wriggles a bit and then slowly raises to a sitting position.

“You know, some people prefer to rest up a bit after the exams before they start having human interaction again,” she says.

“Nonsense. You’ll have plenty of time to lounge about afterwards, but tonight is the last night everyone is in town before Christmas break, and we’ve been shut up in this stinking dorm room for the past two weeks!”

“I moved in with a lunatic.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lily answers. “I love you very much Mare and will miss you incredibly while you’re away.” And with a sigh, she gets up and begins to sift through her clothes.

“Thought so too,” says Mary with a smirk.

Ten minutes, two dresses and a mediocre effort to hide the bags under their eyes later the two girls are ready to go. Mary gives the room a final once-over and grabs Lily’s hand to drag her out of the door. Lily is not entirely unwilling anymore, actually looking forward to getting out and talking to people again, but still doesn’t appreciate it when Mary’s enthusiasm almost makes her collide with the door.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Lily says, sounding resigned.

“Tut-tut,” says Mary, and the door closes behind them with a final snap.

*

It’s very warm inside the pub, and very crowded. Since there is only one pub on walking distance to both the campus and the dorms, it is completely packed with students celebrating the end of term. There’s Christmas decorations hanging from the ceilings, and fairy lights twinkling by the window, but is just adds to the disorienting whole.

They make their way to a spot in a corner at the bar, and plop down on the two stools. Lily jumps in her seat when the guy next to her turns in his stool and says:

“Evans was it, right?”

She has to take a minute to recover her bearings, but when she does she recognises him immediately.

“Oh, you’re Potter’s good-looking friend.”

His grin is so wide it almost splits his face, and he raises one eyebrow.

“Good-looking, eh? Oh James is going to lose his shit when he hears this.”

“Is that so?”

“He hasn’t shut up about you since your brief conversation at the bus stop last week. The poor bloke could barely concentrate on his exams and kept whining about how he should’ve asked your number.”

He shakes his head tragically. “A mental case, that one.”

Lily thinks back too and flusters slightly. I mean, she could concentrate, but she did catch herself looking around for him at the library a few times.

“Who is this were talking about?” pipes in Mary.

But her question doesn’t need to be answered because right at that moment there is a scuffling behind them and the boy in question emerges from the crowd. He reaches them and slaps his hand down on the counter.

“Jesus, Sirius. When you lose rock-paper-scissors it means you have to go get us drinks, not go chat up pretty girls at the counter.”

He casts a furtive look at the girls but stops when he notices Lily. A wide grin appears on his face.

“Fancy seeing you here, Evans,” he says.

“Mary here dragged me out,” Lily says, and points at Mary to introduce her. She gives a little wave. “She says that if it weren’t for her I’d be in danger of becoming a hermit.”

“Well, thank god for Mary then.”

“Evans and I were just talking actually,” says Sirius, smirking mischievously. “She called me the good-looking one.”

James’ mouth falls open in an almost comically round ‘O’. Then he quickly reasserts himself and presumes a look of complete confidence.

“Slander.”

“No, it’s true, you can ask her.”

James turns on Lily suspiciously. “Evans?”

Lily is saved from answering by the barman who noisily places four beers on the counter in front of Sirius. He takes them and gets of his stool. James gestures with his hand to the girls to follow them, and dives into the crowd.

*

They go for a table next to the window, where two other boys are waiting.

“No Sirius, you don’t get it, I am obviously the handsome one. Your hair is way too…” James trails off as he reaches the table, concentrating for a moment on stealing two other chairs from a nearby table.

“- too floppy,” he finishes, wearing a self-satisfied smirk at his word of choice.

Sirius almost drops the beers as he splutters, but reaches the table just in time to put them down. Then he rounds on James.

“Excuse me? Floppy?”

The somewhat chubby, blonde boy sitting at the table laughs. Lily notices another boy. This one is tall, with brown hair and a faintly pale look about him. He is smiling slightly at his mates’ shenanigans.

“Ha!” says James childishly, and sits down. Then he turns to the other two.

“Remus, Peter, meet Lily Evans and her friend, er –“

“Mary,” says Mary, and she smiles.

“You can sit down you know,” says the boy with the brown hair. “I’m Remus by the way, that’s Peter.”

Peter nods at them too. The girls take the seats closest to them, and somehow Lily ends up sitting next to James. Sirius seems to be in a huff about being ignored, but finds himself a seat too. Remus shoots him a look.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this about?”

“Well, you see,” begins Sirius. “Evans here called me the good-looking one, and obviously James can’t deal with that, so he –“

“She never confirmed she did!”

“She said it.”

“Evans?”

“Er -  yes, I did.”

“See?” says Sirius triumphantly.

Lily has to bite her lip to hold back her laughter, but James doesn’t give up that easily. He rounds on Remus and Peter.

“You two still choose me, right?”

“Of course, mate.”

“Any day.”

“See?” says James.

“Bloody traitors,” mutters Sirius. “They’re biased anyway ‘cause you invited us all over for Christmas at your place. You basically bought their allegiance.”

“No, we just like to see you all worked up,” says Remus. “Anyway, about that. Do we have a plan yet?”

Through the following conversation, it becomes clear that James’ parents have an apartment not far from there, and they’re holding a party on Christmas Eve. Apparently, it’s tradition that the boys pull some sort of prank, but it has to be meticulously planned, seeing as his parents know what they’re up to and will be prepared.

Peter suggests messing with the food, but that idea is quickly rebuffed because they did something with that the previous year. Apparently it involved hard liquor, fire, large amounts of mistletoe and a quick getaway via the fire escape.

When Mary jumps in with a suggestion about swapping all the presents with ones filled with bubble wrap, Sirius beams at her, announces that she is a genius and makes her an official honorary member of the Christmas Prank Planning Committee.

While Mary takes her bows, James suddenly turns to Lily.

“By the way. You still haven’t apologised for naming Sirius “the good-looking one” over me. I was deeply offended you know.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but can feel a grin creeping onto her face. “See, I would, but it’s true.”

“Rude!” exclaims James, a hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture. “I was going to invite you and Mary to come to our Christmas party to experience the prank in action, but if this is how you’re going to behave, then – “

Lily looks at him in surprise.

“Really? I’d love to come!”

“Yeah, well, too bad then.”

“Oh come on, please? Mary can’t by the way, she’s going home for Christmas, but I live here, well, not far from here, and if I don’t find something to do on Christmas Eve I’ll have to spend it with my sister and her troll of a fiancée.”

James raises one eyebrow. “Sounds like a story.”

“Yeah, it is,” she says, shrugging.

James can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it and drops the subject, for which Lily is grateful.

“Well, I can hardly leave you to their mercy, can I? It’ll be Christmas after all, gotta keep the Christmas spirit.”

*

It’s Christmas Eve, and Lily’s nervous. She’s waiting outside of the tall apartment building for James to come pick her up, because he said she wouldn’t find it on her own. The cold bites at her nose and makes her breath look like little clouds, and her long green dress isn’t exactly enough to keep her warm. The cold is just not the only reason why she’s shivering.

Last week at the pub they talked for hours while the others planned the prank, and they exchanged numbers. They talked a lot during the past seven days, but this is the first time they see each other again, and Lily can feel swarms of butterflies circling in her gut.

When he’s finally there though she’s so cold she momentarily forgets to be nervous but just runs up to him to get to the warmth and gives him a small kiss on the cheek.

“Lily!” He sounds surprised, but also happy, and it makes her stomach lurch.

“I’m bloody frozen,” she says, side-stepping him and entering the building.

He closes the door after her, then turns around and really looks at her for a moment. Lily feels like she should spin in a circle or something, but that would be stupid wouldn’t it? – so instead she pretends not to notice and starts looking for an elevator.

“Wrong way,” he says, and points it out. It’s still open and they get in. “No wonder you’re cold though, you’re not really wearing a winter outfit, are you?”

“Sirius told me it was fancy, so here I am, looking fancy.”

“Well, if Sirius told you.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. It’s quiet for a few seconds and the only sound is that of the elevator whizzing upwards.

“The green looks pretty on you,” he says suddenly.

“Thanks.” She smiles at him.

He grins back. “It’s very seasonal, you know. Makes you look like a Christmas tree with that red hair of yours.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “The compliment every girl is just dying to hear.”

“I like Christmas trees. Plus, it brings out your eyes.”

“My sister said it made me look like a midget pine tree.”

This makes James laugh so hard he snorts, and it’s so infectious that Lily starts to laugh too. By the time they are done laughing, the elevator has reached the top floor, and they get out.

Lily doesn’t have to ask which door it is, because the music and the sound of a lot of people talking lead the way. She makes to knock, but James reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, wait.”

His hand is rough, and very very warm, and not at all unwelcome. She gets chills again, but the nice kind, when she turns and looks up at him. But now she’s facing him James seems to falter. He drops his hand and the other one shoots immediately up and into his hair.

“Lily, I –“

“Do you know there’s mistletoe hanging above your head?” she interrupts.

He looks completely bewildered for a second.

“What?”

“Yeah, right there.” She points her finger at it, and James sees that there is, indeed, mistletoe hanging right above the spot where the two of them are standing. His eyebrows knit together at the sight.

“Fucking Sirius,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, what?”

“This is a bit awkward, but –“ He panics. “Look, I didn’t hang that there, okay? It must’ve been one of the boys, trying to prank us or something. I swear it wasn’t there when I went down!”

“James.”

“And what are they trying to do with that anyway? Making me look like some creep? Okay I admit I was hoping that maybe perhaps somewhere tonight, but, y’know I would never – I like you okay? A lot, and it’s weird and we only just met and all, but there it is and – oh I’m so gonna kill –“

He’s worked himself in such a state at this point that Lily’s afraid he might actually take off to find Sirius, so she does the only thing she can think of: she takes a step closer to him and grabs the hand that is now really pulling at his hair.

“James.”

He stops, blinks, and looks down at her. They’re standing very close now, so close that Lily can spot the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

“What.” He sounds a bit dazed.

She smiles.

“It’s fine. Now shut up and kiss me, will you?”

And thankfully, he does.