#wow don’t go three years without cleaning your car. or use your car floor as a garbage spot for three years that’s bad too

[signal-fire]

finally did some spring cleaning in my car <3 spring 2020 cleaning actually

[onceupon]

London Boy

summary: Y/n finds herself all the way across the pond, trying to escape OBX. But much to her surprise, a certain someone might get in the way.

pairing: Rafe x reader (just an intro in this part, we’ll get there dw)

warnings: swearing, drinking, some mentions of anxiety?

word count: 3.2k

a/n: if you’re a sucker for a slow burn like me, buckle up and enjoy the ride. I plan on this being multiple parts and this is also my first time posting so please be gentle with me lol :’-) (not canon Rafe)

You huffed as you dragged your extra large and definitely overweight luggage down to the pickup area at Heathrow airport. You had just landed in London where you’d be going to school until the holidays.  You had decided to apply for, and actually got accepted into, your high school’s British exchange program. Every year Kildare Academy gave the option for 15 seniors to study for half the school year at Westheath Academy in London, a private boarding school, while 15 kids from their school came to yours. Normally, you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving your friends and family for that long, not to mention missing out on half of senior year at home. But ever since the drama that erupted during the summer after your junior year that ended with you being shunned by your “friend group” (where they really ever your friends to begin with?), you practically jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from the Outer Banks as possible, albeit for a little while.

You didn’t know at all what to expect at Westheath, you had skipped the predeparture orientation at Kildare a few weeks ago, but you didn’t care - didn’t care who was going or what Westheath was like, all that mattered was that for the next few months you could finally breath. It was the clean slate you desperately needed, a chance to finally be around people and places you hadn’t known since birth. Sure there were going to be 14 other kids from Kildare there as well, but you had zero intentions of sticking with your OBX peers over the next few months. You weren’t going to let your small town suffocate you for a second longer if you could help it.

You double checked the license plate on your phone screen as the Uber you ordered pulled up.

“Y/N?” the driver called out from the front-right window (god that was going to take some getting used to.)

“Yep!” you smiled, huffing as you tried to pick up your luggage and step off the curb. Thankfully the uber driver was quick to your rescue, effortlessly lifting your suitcase into the trunk of the car. Leave it to you to overpack without even thinking to leave room for all of the clothes and souvenirs you were certain to accumulate - oh well, an excuse for a new suitcase you supposed.

Not in the mood for small talk, you were relieved that the Uber driver silently read your mind, playing a pop station as you both respectfully ignored each other’s presence. You anxiously tapped your thumb on your phone, eyes flicking between the screen where you watched your route progress and the view out your window of townhomes, pubs, and countless strangers passing by.

You hadn’t felt anxious about leaving for London the entire first half of junior year, so why was your stomach and head simultaneously churning now? You were so excited to experience a version of life that was the opposite of everything you were trying to get away from - a version of life that involved British accents, buzzing city life, and endless possibilities. But it was all of a sudden dawning on you how unfamiliar it all was. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, no matter how far you ran, you would never be able to fully separate yourself from OBX. That damned small beach-town would always be a part of you, an inextricable thread in the fabric of your life.

The Uber pulled up to a halt in front of your destination. You hesitantly glanced out your window as you double checked the silver number on the building. Yep, 25 Brampton Rd - you were here. The Uber driver graciously lifted your suitcase out of the trunk for you and as he pulled away you let out a long breath - your fresh start was waiting behind the doors in front of you.

You rang the doorbell to the lobby, the security here no joke. You were soon buzzed into the building and you shakily pulled your suitcase in behind you, desperately trying to calm your nerves to no avail.

“Hi,” you croaked out as you approached the man seated at the front desk. “I’m- uhh here to check in to my apartment- uh I mean flat… I think… I’m with the Kildare Academy exchange,” you rambled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Despite your best efforts, your anxiety was taking over.

The man gave you a sympathetic smile. “Name please?”

“Y/n L/n,” you replied, pulling your lips into a sheepish straight-lined smile as you mindlessly tapped your fingers on the handle of your suit case.

“L/n, L/n, L/n,” the man quietly muttered under his breath as his pen traced over a list of names. “Ahh here you are. Alright Miss L/n, here is a fob, this lets you into the building, now this key lets you into your flat, you’ll be on the second floor - apartment 2C, and this key is for your individual room,” he began to fire off at you as he rounded the desk and came to grab your suitcase, beginning to walk as you hastily followed suit. “This packet will tell you everything you need to know about our building here - wifi, laundry, trash days,” he shoved some papers in your hand as you both entered the elevator, him pressing the button for the second floor.

You emerged on to your floor and a few steps later you two were at the door of your new home, which the man quickly unlocked gesturing for you to step inside. “And this, Miss L/n, is your flat for the next few months with us here at Westheath. Your room is the second right down the hall there and I believe you’re the first here. Two of your flatmates who are yet to check in are from Kildare, such as yourself, and the other two are students of our own here at Westheath. You know I’m surprised how early you are, classes don’t start until next week! But nevertheless I’ll let you get settled,” you stood staring blankly at your new surroundings, more or less registering the words this man was firing off at you.

“I’m Richard by the way, if you ever need anything you know where to find me,” the man extended his hand toward you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, accepting his handshake.

“Welcome to Westheath,” he smiled back and just as quickly was turning on his heel and back out the door before you could get in another word, leaving you in your new flat by yourself.

You slowly walked through the empty place, meandering through the kitchen and living area, down the hall, peaking into the bathroom, and then finding your way to your room. It certainly wasn’t the type of living arrangement you were used to back home - your family lived on Figure 8 in the Outer Banks meaning you had grown up surrounded by mansions and luxuries. This place was small, simple, and yet it was cozy and well… perfect. It was the exact opposite of your Figure 8 life and that alone was enough to make you love it. You smiled, content, as you sank on to your empty bed, taking in your new room. You had a nice sized desk, a decent shelf, and a wardrobe. Simple and sufficient. You could get used to this. The room was starkly barren, but since school wasn’t set to start for another week and no one was here yet you made a mental note to go on a little mission to find some plants and decorations to bring the white box that was your room a bit more to life.

——-

Three days had passed and still your other flat mates had yet to show. You were starting to wonder if they ever would or if you’d end up living in this flat all by yourself. Your room was now decorated, you had found some cute posters in a shop you had wandered into, some plants in another, and string lights in a third. You had acquainted yourself with the grocery store around the corner and the drug store down the street and you’d even gone on the tube all by yourself.

Being on your own these last few days had been decidedly therapeutic, leaving you unable to contain a cheesy grin every time it hit you that you were actually here, in London, far far away from OBX. But you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely, with a passing hello to Richard every time you left and returned to the building being your main source of human interaction these last few days.

You laid on your bed as you debated the decision you were about to make - you would’ve never dared to use Tinder back home. You knew virtually everyone on the island and would’ve been absolutely mortified to match with anybody there. But hey - you were in London baby! This was a fresh start and nothing was off limits. You sighed and gave in, downloading the app and quickly making a profile. You must’ve rearranged the order of your pictures at least a dozen times before you finally decided it was good enough. You started to swipe, an endless supply of British boys at your finger tips. You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at how funny the whole concept was, your inbox already flooding with cheesy pick up lines from your matches. You spent the next hour going back and forth with these boys, silly, meaningless, flirty conversations - god it was so much easier being a flirt through a screen, you would be positively flushed in the face in person, unless you were drunk of course (your drunk self was a dangerously confident flirt for sure).

Liam: are you free tonight? Down to grab a drink and chat?

Oh wow. Straight to the point wasn’t he. You knew the point of the app was to eventually get off it and meet up with someone, but now that you were met with the opportunity, your stomach was flipping upside down. Fuck it, what do you have to lose?

Y/n: yeah that sounds great, I’m in Hammersmith if you wanted to go somewhere there?

Liam: perfect so am I (: 8pm at The Ladle. See you there xx

Pure adrenaline coursed through your body as you started doing your hair and makeup, throwing clothes all around your small room to find the perfect outfit that was cute but simultaneously made it seem like you weren’t trying too hard. You threw your wallet and keys in your purse, chugged the glass of wine you had been casually sipping on by yourself, and quickly headed out the door before you could overthink it and change your mind.

——

You nervously approached the bar that Google Maps had directed to you, not sure what you were getting yourself into, but you had already walked all the way here so you’d be damned if you didn’t see it through.

“Y/n?” a voice called out to you. God, hearing your name in that accent sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah that’s me, Liam?” you questioned back, staring up at the fluffy browned-hair boy approaching you.

“That’s me,” he winked, extending his arm out to you which you nervously grabbed, as he led you into The Ladle, spotting an empty table for the two of you.

“So Y/n, what are you doing here in London. Something tells me you’re not from here?”the boy across from you smiled as you two got settled in your seats.

“Hmmm I wonder what could’ve ever given it away,” you replied with a sarcastic smile, American accent in full force. “But I’m here for school, on an exchange at Westheath Academy.”

“Oh shit, that means we’ll see each other around. I’m finishing up my last year actually. And somehow you’re the first American I’ve had the pleasure of being on a date with,” he smiled with a devilish grin that felt like it was burning into you, you hoping the flush on your cheeks wasn’t too obvious with the dim lighting.

“Lucky me,” you smiled back, faking a sly confidence as best you could despite the fact that you were all nerves on the inside. Dating was not something you were familiar with, having maybe gone on two back home, if those even counted.

“First round on me, what are you drinking tonight Y/n?”

“Umm a vodka cran is fine,” you replied to which you were immediately met with a scoff.

“No way babe, you’re in a pub in England now. Should’ve figured as much coming from an American like you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with it. “I’m getting you a pint,” he asserted, walking over to the bar and giving you a moment to breath and collect yourself. You hated beer but weren’t about to put up a fight, at this point you would down just about any alcohol in order to get some more liquid courage in your system.

He quickly returned, placing the tall glass of golden-colored liquid in front of you.

“Cheers, to new school mates,” he winked extending his glass up to yours.

“To new school mates,” you smiled back, bringing your glass to clink with his, taking a long swig and trying not to grimace at the taste of the liquid going down your throat.

——

The night passed by quickly, you and Liam going through three rounds of drinks as you both laughed and bantered with one another, your nerves all but dissipated by the alcohol now coursing through your bloodstream. Heck, the beer was even starting to taste… good? God you barely recognized yourself anymore, but in the best possible way. One by one you were letting the closely guarded walls you had built up over the years in OBX fall, and you were feeling better than ever before - you felt free.

You and Liam stumbled back arms linked to the building you found out you were both living in, Liam on the fourth floor. You rummaged for the fob in your purse and you both got on the elevator, Liam instinctively pressing both your floor numbers. The elevator dinged opening to your floor, Liam turning to you with a cheeky smile.

“See you around, Y/n,” he winked. Why did you find that so attractive, or maybe it’s just because you were slightly drunk.

“Goodnight Liam,” you smirked back, blowing him a kiss as you walked out the elevator, the doors closing behind you.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as you unlocked your flat and stumbled into your room, immediately collapsing on your bed. London. It was definitely going to be an adventure.

——

You were woken up the next day by the sun peaking through your window. You yawned and let out a big stretch, still giddy from last night’s date. It’s not like you thought you had just met your soulmate or something, you both kept the evening light, mainly joking and flirting as you downed drinks. But god you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun or ended a night feeling so confident and carefree. You were embracing every ounce of the euphoria you were getting from your new life.

You slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, still rubbing the morning crust out of your eyes. Just as you got a pot of coffee going, you heard the distinct sound of a key turning, startling you as you realized it was coming from outside of your flat’s door. You cursed at the fact that you were about to meet a new flatmate while in your flannel pajamas and messy bun hanging halfway off your head, but mainly you were excited to finally have some company.

“Dude it’s no Figure 8 living but fuck it I’ll live anywhere to not have my parents breathing down my neck these next few months,” you heard a voice say, now in the hallway of your flat.

You immediately freeze. That was a male voice, definitely a male. Of course it makes sense now that you think of it, everyone in the flat gets their own room so what does it matter if the flat is co-ed. The thought just hadn’t crossed your mind, you automatically assumed you’d be living with all girls.

“Yeah man, anywhere that’s 1,000 miles away from Ward sounds like the perfect place to me,” another male voice laughed in return. Ward? Ward Cameron? That couldn’t possibly be who the voice was referring to because that would mean you were living with- and before you could even finish your thought you were standing jaw slightly parted staring at Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton  in front of you. Two of the most popular guys at school.

You weren’t really friends but your families knew each other so you inevitably saw one another at kook events every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by them. You always told yourself you didn’t care about boys like Rafe and Topper or about fitting in with their crowd, yet you always became nervous in their presence.  They were cool. They partied a lot, were athletes, and had girls tripping over them, which you couldn’t fault considering anyone with eyes could tell they were attractive, but you’d never have the confidence to be so bold with guys like that. Unless you were drunk of course. And unless you were the new confident and carefree version of yourself that you had been on your date last night with Liam.

“Yo Y/n, no fucking way, I didn’t know we’d get to live with girl,” Topper smiled at you with a teasing grin.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you look and how you weren’t wearing a bra under your thin pajama top.

“Uh hey w-what are you guys doing here,” you managed to choke out. That confident girl from last night had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, leaving you now feeling winded in front of the two boys from your hometown. Why were you getting so flustered?

“Just on a little exchange program from Kildare, maybe you’ve heard of it,” teased Rafe sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips, holding back a laugh at how caught off guard you looked.

“Yeah no yeah of course,” you stuttered, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you two to want to sign up for it.”

That’s when you realized the obvious. Every year there was always a number of spots reserved on the exchange for athletes, and Rafe and Topper were two of Kildare’s star soccer players.

“What and get to miss an opportunity to play at Westheath and go to Premier League games all semester? No shot,” laughed Topper.

“Maybe you should’ve gone to orientation after all, roomie,” joked Rafe as he picked up his bag following Topper down the hall to their rooms. Rafe Cameron noticed I didn’t go to orientation?

You let your face fall in your hands with a groan only audible to you. You quickly picked up your head and shook yourself off, pouring yourself a cup of coffee as you tried to ground yourself from your frazzled state. Looks like escaping OBX was going to be harder than you thought.

---

Part 2

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I need that promised Dinner Date for Mechanic!Frankie!!! <3

Of course!

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Two awkward cuties who haven’t been on a date in a long time and another kiss. A longer one this time.

[mechanic!frankie masterlist]

Frankie smiled down at his phone as he read the text “Dinner tonight. My place” for the fiftieth time that morning. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening. He thought that the kiss you two shared might have scared you away, but here you were inviting him to dinner.

“Hey boss,” one of his mechanics said as he walked into the office. Frankie fumbled his phone, making it fly up in the air before landing on his desk. “Am I interrupting something?” the man asked, amused.

“Uh...no. What’s up?” Frankie cleared his throat and stood up.

“Is she hot?” The worker grinned and leaned against the doorframe.

“Get out,” Frankie said calmly.

“Wait, is it that woman that brings her car in like three times a week? She’s fucking hot, man. Way to go.” He clapped Frankie on the back as he walked past him out the door.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Frankie rolled his eyes and began cleaning his tools.

“It’s a compliment, boss.”

“Hot? No...she’s gorgeous, beautiful, stunning...so much more than hot.” He stared off into space dreamily as he spoke.

“Man, you got it bad or maybe you got it good,” the man joked.

“One more thing like that outta your mouth and I’m sending you home.” He put the wrench he was cleaning down roughly and glared at his worker. “Be respectful, please.”

“Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.” The man walked off and busied himself and Frankie went back to daydreaming about you. 

He found himself feeling bad for thinking so much about the small kiss you two shared. It wasn’t like anyone could read his mind, but he still felt a little guilty. He also felt guilty for wanting the day to go by as fast as possible so he could get to you faster.

He closed up shop and headed home to shower and dress in some of his nicer clothes. He knew you wouldn’t have a problem with anything he wore but he still wanted to look nice for you.

Should he tell you he was getting ready?

just got home. be there soon, he texted and left it at that. You didn’t need to know that he was showering and all that.

After his shower, he looked at himself in the mirror. The towel sat just below his tummy and sucked it in, imagining how he would look if he was a bit more svelte. He’d definitely fit into his clothes a little better. He wondered if you liked your men a little more toned than he was.

“You’re an idiot, Francisco,” he sighed before walking away from the mirror and getting dressed.

The button up shirt he chose was one of the nicest he had. It took him about ten minutes to decide how many buttons he should leave undone. He didn’t want to look like he was trying to hard although he really was. His hair was almost completely dry by the time he finished dressing completely. He looked in the mirror again and tried styling it in different ways. He was so used to wearing a hat that his hair never seemed to look right without it. And his stubborn, errant curls went wherever they wanted anyway.

“Screw it,” he said quietly, standing up straight and giving himself a once over. He turned to the side and looked at his butt. “Hmm...” Then shook his head. “What the hell am I doing?” Before he did anything else stupid, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.

Right after he knocked on your door, he regretted not asking if he should bring anything. You opened the door and greeted him with a bright smile.

“You made it,” you said happily.

“I did. What...did you think I’d stand you up?” he asked as he walked inside.

“No, but, uh...” You looked him up and down and he felt his face getting hot. “I’m surprised some other woman didn’t snatch you up before you got here.”

“Oh,” he chuckled sheepishly, looking down at the floor.

“What I mean to say is that you look very nice. I mean, you always do but...you look nice.”

He shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Any time. Uh...you can come into the kitchen if you like.” 

He hung up his jacket and followed you in, watching you move to and fro. “Anything I can help with?” he asked.

“Nope, you’re my guest.”

“Okay. Smells good,” he commented.

“Thanks. It’s not quite as delicious as what you made me for dinner, but I hope you’ll like it.” You placed a plate on the table. “Please sit.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“I put wine out but if you want something different just let me know.” You made yourself a plate and sat across from him.

“Wine is...fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry.” He picked up his fork and took a bite before nodding happily. “I knew it.”

“What?”

“It’s delicious.”

You clapped your hands together. “Good!”

You two talked about everything. It was easygoing and fun and something Frankie had avoided for so long. He knew he had just had dinner with you the other night but there was something even more pleasant this time around.

He smiled at the way you got a little more talkative and expressive when you got wine drunk. You laughed at his jokes, you even finished some of his sentences. Before he knew it, you were sitting in the chair next to his and had it turned so you could face him.

“Want some more wine?” you asked after finishing another glass of your own.

“No, I still have to get home, you know,” he joked. You both laughed then just looked at each other.

“So...” You put your glass down and held out your hands. “Lemme see your hands.”

“Hm okay.” He put his hands in yours and you turned them over, surveying them, feeling them. “Rough, I know.”

“They’re lovely hands,” you told him.

“What are you gonna do to ‘em? You gonna read my palms or something?”

“No, I just wanted to...” You looked at him and forgot what you were going to say. “Um...hold...them...”

“That’s fine with me...” He said your name quietly then you said his and then you were kissing. You both sighed into it like you both had breathed the very air you need into each other’s lungs. You let go of his hands so you could lock yours around the back of his neck, fingers tucked into his curls. Your tongue touched his first and he made a small sound before doing the same. Every time one of you pulled away it just started all over again. Neither of you could get enough.

The softness of your lips, the softness of his. Urgent yet not greedy or forceful. Sweet yet passionate. He’d never forget that you tasted of wine and that you smiled when you kissed. You didn’t have to know that he had opened his eyes a few times just to look at you.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both breathless.

“Um...wow,” he said quietly.

“Was that okay?” you asked.

“Okay? That was more than okay.” He touched your face softly and you smiled at him.

You both lingered at the door--him outside, you inside. You couldn’t bring yourself to say goodnight so you just kissed him again.

“I had a wonderful night,” he said, “Thank you.”

“Me too. I hope we can do it again sometime.” You ran your fingers over his knuckles then he turned your hand over so he could kiss the back of it.

“We can. I’d love nothing more,” he admitted. He leaned in for one more kiss which you gladly gave to him. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Francisco.” You closed the door and smiled dreamily to yourself before twirling around the living room. 

Frankie could see you through the window and he chuckled before driving off. He touched his lips. Everything he had kept himself from all those years he had found again on your lips.

frankie taglist: @fakenoods @oldstuffnewstuff @the-bird-suit @lestrange2703 @findhimfives @windfallss @rach7 @surfsup666 @theghostwiththemost-babe @marshmallow--3 @mrschiltoncat @aplaceofpeace @josepedropascal @jeeperky @allthingsnarcos @laymegentlytorest @stanfordscrush @fangirlingss @nathan-bateman @darthdumbasss @helga1031 @master-obi-wan-kenboneme @heythere80sbaby @deserttastesbitter @dindjstarin @mandodjarinn @frankie-stein18 @funkylittlebisexuall @16boyfriends-and-me @marvelousmermaid @slugbuggie @ladyblogger-margie @queenbbarnes @dodgerandevans @terrormonster55 @queridopascal @hells-bells-x @allmahfeels @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @blackberries45 @darnitdraco @nemo-my-name-forevermore @dindjarinneedsahug @littlefairygirlx

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[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 6

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here, chapter 3 here, chapter 4 here and chapter 5 here.

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

When Friday was just around the corner, Azriel was a nervous mess.

He had cleaned his apartment twice, which he understood was a weird thing to do since she wasn’t even coming to his house. He had tried on every item of clothing in his wardrobe. He had googled ‘conversation topics first date’ and written a few down on his phone. He had even gotten a haircut.

He hadn’t been able to sleep at all that week. It felt weird to look at her videos when he had met her and talked to her. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even though it wasn’t. The videos were on the internet for everyone to see, yet Azriel couldn’t bring himself to watch her videos. So he didn’t sleep.

The day before the date, Azriel had decided to get her flowers. But when he stood in a flower shop and the person behind the register asked what kind of flowers he wanted, he just walked out of there. He had no idea what kind of flowers to give to a florist. He knew that certain flowers had certain meanings, and even though he had no idea what any flower meant, a florist probably knew. What if he bought flowers that said ‘I hate you’ or ‘happy funeral’?

Azriel couldn’t risk it, so he bought some chocolate instead. All women like chocolate, right?

But when he came home, his mind did that thing it always did when he was sleep-deprived: it questioned his every decision. What if Elain is lactose intolerant? What if she’s vegan? What if she is the only person on planet earth who hates chocolate? What if the different flavors of chocolate have meaning, just like flowers? Maybe you bought some sort of ‘happy funeral-chocolate’?

In an attempt to get these intrusive thoughts out of his mind, he went to the gym. He worked out for two hours, which was a bit excessive. The gym played shitty gym-music and every single person made weird sounds. It was the perfect distraction. For now.

Azriel hoped that his workout would help with his insomnia, too. He hoped that if he lifted enough weights and ran a few more miles than usual, perhaps he would be able to sleep. It had never worked before, but, as his mother used to say; “hope is the last thing that leaves you.”

However, after tossing and turning for three hours, he could safely say that the workout had done nothing to help him sleep. He couldn’t understand how a person could be so fucking tired, but still unable to sleep. He was almost going a bit crazy at this point. For the past weeks, Azriel had gotten used to falling asleep to Flower Girl ASMR’s videos. He had gotten used to her sweet voice rocking him to sleep. The insomnia was almost worse now that he knew how good it felt to have a decent night’s sleep.

Azriel looked at his phone. It was almost 02.30 in the morning. Fuck, he muttered to himself. He really didn’t want to be a tired mess on the date tomorrow. He had to put his best foot forward, and he knew he couldn’t do that if he hadn’t slept well for almost a week.

Maybe he should just watch one of her videos? She would obviously never know.

After debating with himself for a few minutes, he decided that Elain deserved to meet a well-rested Azriel, so he opened the YouTube app and found her latest video.

Azriel held his breath as her face filled his screen. God, she was lovely. Her smile could light up the darkest of nights, and her sweet voice was like a calming balm for his soul.

He put the phone in his chest and just listened. Slowly and gently, her whispers lulled him to sleep.

Azriel woke up relaxed, but nervous. He only had a half-day at work because Rhys had decided to send everyone home early today to celebrate that Feyre was pregnant. He was taking her on a spa weekend. She was only a few weeks pregnant, but Azriel knew that she would be the most pampered woman in the world during this pregnancy. This weekend was just the beginning. If she suddenly got a craving for pickle smoothies with whipped cream and sprinkles, Rhys would 100% make her one every day. And that is saying something since this man almost threw up every time someone opened a pickle jar in his vicinity.

“Any cool plans tonight, Az?” Cassian asked as he started to pack up his belongings.

Azriel wanted to tell him about the date. He wanted to share the nervousness with someone - anyone. But he couldn’t. Cass knew who she was. Nesta had known her since college. If this didn’t go well, Azriel would never hear the end of it. So he lied.

“No, nothing special. You?”

“I was going to take Nesta out for a date to celebrate that it has been four years since she agreed to go on a date with me…”

Azriel laughed. “After you had panted after her for like two years you mean?”

“Exactly!” He smiled. Cassian sure seemed like a big brute the first time you met him, but he was actually a soft teddy bear. He was never ashamed when people mentioned that he had been trying to win Nesta over for years before she agreed to date him. He just felt like he had won a prize. It was very sweet.

“However,” he continued. “She has to work late. Apparently, one of her authors had plagiarized fanfiction, which Nesta found out about like a week before the book went to print. So obviously, Nesta is livid and I do not want to be close to her until this is resolved.”

Nesta owned a publishing company that focused on publishing romance novels, which didn’t surprise anyone. Nesta had always loved romance books. In her words; the smuttier, the better. Azriel always found them a bit cringy. It was like reading porn. But truth be told, he had read a few books that Nesta had recommended, and they had taught him a thing or two.

“What the hell is fanfiction?” he asked Cassian.

Cassian shrugged. “I’m not completely sure, but apparently this author had just copied something from the internet and changed the names of the characters and sent it in as a manuscript.”

“Weird. I understand that Nesta is pissed.”

“Yeah. So, you wanna do something? Take out and a game?”

“No, I can’t,” Azriel lied.

“You just said that you didn’t have any plans.”

Fuck.

“Yeah, well. I said that I didn’t have any special plans, not that I didn’t have any plans.”

Implying that his date with Elain was “not special” made him feel like shit.

Cassian eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going on a date.”

“What? no.”

Cassian laughed and slapped Azriel’s back. “Yes, you are. You have that date-look all over your face.”

“What the hell is a date-look?” he asked, but Cassian didn’t answer.

“Who are you going out with? Do I know her? Is she hot?”

Azriel held up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions. “You don’t know her,” he lied.

Cassian grinned. “So, you are going on a date?”

“You just said that I had a date-face?”

“Yeah, that was a lucky guess. So, what’s her name?”

“None of your business, Cass.”

“Wow, what a beautiful name,” Cassian teased. “But I get it. You like being secretive. Can you at least tell me how you met?”

“The internet.”

Cassian let out a fake gasp. “Stop the presses and hold your horses. Azriel downloaded a dating app? Can pigs fly now, too?” He made a point of looking out the window.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Azriel slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking towards the elevator. Cassian was just behind him.

“So, can I see a photo?”

“No.”

“What if you’re getting catfished?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you can never be sure. One time, this girl, or actually, it was an old man…”

“Cass, please. Just let it go,” Azriel interrupted. “There’s a reason why I never tell you guys when I go on dates.”

“Dates? You’ve been going on multiple dates without telling me? I’m wounded, Azriel.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and stepped into the elevator. When the elevator reached the ground floor, Azriel got out. Cassian had his car in the underground parking garage. Just before the doors closed, Cassian called out for Azriel. “You might need this.” He threw something at Azriel, and Azriel didn’t see what it was until he caught it.

It was a condom.

With a grin, Cassian disappeared behind the big, metal elevator doors.

Azriel shook his head and looked down at the small foil packet in his hand. Cassian really was the worst.

A few hours later, Azriel was almost ready to leave for the date. He was wearing black trousers and a dark grey knitted sweater. And blue socks. Cobalt blue, to be exact. Azriel had a thing about colorful socks. He mostly dressed in black, but he didn’t own a single pair of black socks. These blue socks were his favorites, though. He loved cobalt blue.

Azriel was checking the route to the bar when an incoming phone call made his phone vibrate (he had put his phone on mute and deleted Barbie Girl from his phone, thank god!).

It was Elain calling.

Azriel felt his heart drop. Nobody called just before a date unless they wanted to cancel.

With a sigh, he answered the phone. He tried to sound cheery. “Hello, Elain.”

“Azriel! I’m so happy you picked up.” She sounded out of breath.

“Anything wrong?” Azriel asked.

“Well. Kind of… have you left your apartment yet?”

“No, not yet. Why?”

There was a short pause, and Azriel could have sworn that he heard her swear under her breath.

“Well, I won’t be able to make it. I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for calling this late. I was really looking forward to our date, I promise.” She really did sound apologetic.

“Has anything happened?” Azriel asked, suddenly a bit worried.

“No… Or actually, yes. I fell when I got out of the shower earlier. I thought that I just needed to rest, but I can’t walk,” she let out a pained laugh. “I’m such a clutz.”

Azriel hated that she was trying to make light of the situation. He hated that she was hurt. “Elain. If you can’t walk, you should probably go to the ER,” Azriel said.

“Oh, no. I called my neighbor. Madja. She’s a doctor. She said that I had just sprained my ankle.”

“Okay…” Azriel didn’t know what else to say.

“Can we reschedule?” Elain asked. “I really wanted to see you tonight.”

Azriel was used to being rejected. He was used to not trusting new people. But somehow, he trusted Elain when she said that she wanted to see him.

“Of course we can reschedule. I was really looking forward to meeting you too.”

“Really?” He could hear the smile in her voice. It made him smile.

“Yes. I’m av…”

Azriel was interrupted by a hiss from Elain.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ready to steal a car, drive over her to her place, and get her to the hospital. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t know her address.

“Mhm, I’m fine. I just.. moved.”

“Elain. Do you have a friend or family member coming over to help you?”

There was a stretch of silence. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need help.” Her tone was too positive and cheery. Azriel didn’t believe her one bit.

“Have you had dinner?”

“I was planning on making some instant ramen.”

Azriel frowned. “And how are you going to do that when you can barely move? Also, that’s not good enough for dinner.”

She didn’t answer for a while. “I’m fine. I promise.” He could hear her voice break on the last syllable. She was not fine.

“Elain. Please, will you let me get you some food? I don’t have to come in if you don’t want me to. Just, let me get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to. If you’re willing to give me your address, I’ll be there in just a bit.”

She hesitated. “You probably have something better to do.”

“I don’t. Now please, let me get you some food.”

He didn’t just want to get her some food. He wanted to make sure that she was alright. He didn’t want her to sit all alone in her apartment when she couldn’t walk.

He wanted to take care of her.

After a small eternity, he could hear her whisper “Okay.”

45 minutes later, he was outside her building with sushi (she had said that she liked it) and a bag full of snacks. He didn’t know what she liked, so he had bought a little bit of everything.

A short, old lady walked out the door, and Azriel caught it with one hand. He didn’t want to call her and make her come to the door right now, so he snuck in.

Elain had told him that she lived on the sixth floor, so he quickly made his way up the stairs. He couldn’t risk being caught in an elevator right now.

He found the door with her name on it and raised his hand to knock. And then he froze.

What am I doing? he thought to himself. He had basically asked her for her address and then invited himself to bring her food. He knew that she had a bad history when it came to men. What if she just didn’t want to say no because she thought that it would hurt his feelings?

Azriel contemplated leaving the food outside the door and text her when he was a safe distance away.

“Azriel, is that you?” someone called from the apartment. Elain.

Azriel had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he called back. “Do you want me to leave the food outside the door?”

“No, come in. The door is open.”

With a deep breath, Azriel gathered his courage and reached for the doorknob.

He walked into a small hallway that opened up to a quaint kitchen. Elain was nowhere in sight. The kitchen was bright and welcoming. The walls were painted light green and the cabinets were white. Azriel could see a few cookbooks on her windowsill, which made him smile. Most people didn’t own cookbooks nowadays - they just found recipes online.

“In here,” Elain called. Azriel made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. His first thought was that the room really seemed to fit Elain. The dark wooden floor was a nice contrast to the white walls. Not that you saw much of the walls since they were covered by a built-in bookshelf and a gallery wall full of botanical prints. And there were plants in every nook and cranny. There was a dark green velvet couch in the middle of the room, and on it sat Elain. Or actually, she was half-seated, half laying down. Her foot was propped up with a few pillows. There was a coffee mug on the table in front of her, and beside the couch, he could see a worn leather chair.

Elain was smiling at him as he entered the room. When he smiled back, she put the back of her hand against her forehead, which made her look like a damsel in distress from one of those old Hollywood movies. “You came for me,” she exclaimed in an awful fake southern accent. “My hero!”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh. Elain was wearing black leggings and an oversized shirt. Her hair was gathered into a ponytail. She was beautiful, Azriel thought to himself as he sat down in the leather chair, giving her all the space she needed on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Madja said that it seems to be a mild ankle sprain, and I should be up and running in like one to two weeks. Honestly, I feel more stupid than anything else.”

“Why?” Azriel asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to cancel our date. And who falls out of the shower? I really am the clumsiest person in Velaris,” she joked. “Yesterday, I dropped a full cup of coffee over my new, white shirt. And the day before that, I poked my friend Nuala in the eye with a flower.”

“You… poked her in the eye with a flower?”

Elain laughed. “Yes. Her eye was red for hours.”

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Azriel thought that he could drown in those eyes. He wanted her to look at him forever.

But he didn’t want to intrude. “Do you want me to leave? I could just leave the food here with you.”

Elain bit her inner cheek, suddenly looking very nervous. “Would you...Didn’t you buy food for yourself?”

“I did. But I don’t have to eat with you if you want to be alone.”

“I…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be alone.” It was barely a whisper.

“So, you want me to stay?”

Elain nodded, a lovely pink color spreading across her cheeks.

“Okay.” Azriel unpacked the sushi from the bag and offered her a choice of drinks. “We have lemon, elderflower, and regular coke. I didn’t know what you preferred.”

“Elderflower, please.”

She was still blushing. Azriel couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or just nervous.

Azriel handed her the drink and opened the coke for himself.

Elain sat up slowly and reached for her chopsticks. Since she had to sit with her leg raised, she couldn’t exactly lean over the coffee table, so Azriel placed the sushi on a pillow in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said and put a few pillows behind her back. From where he sat, he could only see the back of Elain’s head now. He wanted to move the chair so he could look at her, but he didn’t want to come off as creepy.

And he was actually quite happy that they couldn’t see each other when she took a bite of her food and let out a sigh. It was just a sigh, but somehow it was the most erotic sound Azriel had ever heard. He blushed and made a point of looking at his food.

“God, this is so good, Azriel. Thank you. I was really hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Lunch,” she said under her breath and took another bite of sushi. Azriel looked at his watch. She hadn’t eaten in more than seven hours. And she was going to make instant ramen if he hadn’t shown up. Suddenly, he felt a bit better about the situation.

When Azriel looked up from his food, Elain was looking at him over her shoulder.

“Is this weird?” she asked. “Is it weird that I asked you to stay? I know it isn’t fun…”

“I kind of remember that I was the one who asked for your address, and then showed up at your doorstep with food. I promise that I wouldn't have done that if I didn’t want to. If anything, I’m weird for showing up like this.”

She laughed, but it was a sad laugh. “No, you’re not weird. You’re kind. I’m just not used to this.”

Azriel frowned. “Not used to what? Kindness?”

Elain looked away, but Azriel didn’t miss the slight nod. “My ex never came over when I was sick. He said that I was boring and that he had better things to do…”

Azriel felt his hands curl into fists. “Is this the same ex that cheated on you and now leaves hate on your videos?” he gritted out.

Another nod. “Yes. But there has been almost no hate since you helped me block those words.” She smiled at him, and he could tell that she wanted to change the subject.

“That’s good to hear.”

Azriel wanted nothing more than to ask where this asshole lived so he could go and kick his ass, but he tried to act civil for Elain’s sake.

“I’m sorry for talking about him,” she said. “You should never talk about exes on dates and…” Her eyes grew wide when she realized what she said. “Not that this is a date or anything,” she corrected herself. “I mean, it would be a pretty shitty date.”

She was flustered, and Azriel couldn’t hide the big grin on his face. She was so cute.

“Elain. Do you want this to be a date?”

“Do you?”

He knew that she needed to hear him say it. “Yes.”

A shy smile played on her face. “Me too.”

“Then it’s settled. This is our first date,” Azriel declared.

Elain’s smile grew. “So there’s a chance for more dates?”

“Don’t be greedy,” Azriel teased. Elain stuck out her tongue and turned around again, facing her food.

I want to taste that tongue, Azriel thought.

Damn those intrusive thoughts.

“I can’t believe that I’m wearing leggings on our first date.”

Azriel didn’t say anything to that. He could complain about anything that tight.

God, what was wrong with his brain tonight?

“You look so good, and I look like this,” she pointed at her hair. “I had even bought a new dress for tonight.”

This piqued Azriel’s interest. “Really? Tell me what it looks like and I can imagine you in it.”

Or out of it.

Stupid fucking brain.

Elain pointed somewhere behind Azriel. “Well, it’s right there.”

On a door that Azriel assumed led to her bedroom, hung a blue dress.

Cobalt blue.

His favorite color.

He grinned and pulled up one pant leg and showed her his sock “We would have matched.”

Elain let out a heartfelt laugh, which made Azriel all warm inside. He loved seeing her happy. He liked knowing that he was the reason for said happiness.

“I didn’t take you for a man that wears colorful socks,” she said, still laughing. “First Barbie Girl, and now colorful socks. I’m starting to think that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”

There was a stretch of silence again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. Even though they didn’t know each other well yet, Azriel could already tell that Elain was one of those people that he just instantly could relax around.

“Elain, this might be a weird request. But can I move this chair so I’m not staring at the back of your head?”

Elain turned around, cheeks pink again. “Yes,” she answered quickly, almost as if she had thought about the same thing.

He picked up the chair and quickly moved it to the other side of the couch. When he met Elain’s gaze, she was staring at him, mouth agape.

“What?”

“You’re strong.”

Azriel scratched his neck and laughed nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, I work out.”

Wow, what a stupid fucking answer.

But Elain didn’t seem to mind. No, she was looking at him more intently now, and her eyes were not focusing on his face anymore. No, they were most definitely looking at his chest. “I can tell,” she said playfully. This felt very much like flirting,

Azriel wondered what she would think of the tattoos covering his skin underneath the shirt.

Azriel tried to remember the conversation topics he had written down on his phone, and after a few minutes, they were talking as if they had known each other for years. Azriel was surprised that she was so easy to talk to. Most of the time, he struggled with social situations. But with Elain, he felt comfortable. At ease.

“You’re very easy to talk to,” he told Elain. She rewarded him with a smile.

“So are you. It feels like we have known each other forever. I never thought that someone that slid into my DM’s would ever be this nice.”

At those words, Nesta’s face popped into Azriel’s mind. He should tell Elain that he knows Nesta. If it wasn’t for her, he would never have known that Elain lived in Velaris. If it wasn’t for Nesta, he wouldn’t have happened to run past her store that morning.

“I have a confession to make,” he said before he could change his mind.

Elain raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Please don’t tell me you’re trying to get me to join a cult.”

“Has that happened before?”

Elain shrugged. “More often than you think.”

“I’m not trying to get you to join a cult. I just… I wanted to tell you that I think that we have some mutual friends.”

She didn’t look surprised, but she didn’t say anything either, so Azriel continued.

“You know Nesta, right? I think you went to college together…”

Elain nodded.

“Well, she’s getting married to my best friend Cassian. I didn’t know that you knew them when I wrote to you, I promise. But it felt weird pretending like we don’t have people in common when we do. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I found out last week when Nesta saw one of your videos on my phone and asked me if I was a stalker.”

Azriel was blushing now. He was expecting silence, or maybe questions. But instead, he was met with laughter.

“She thought you were a stalker?”

Azriel shrugged, unable to find any good words.

“Well, I might also have a confession to make,” Elain announced. “I actually knew that you were friends with Nesta. That’s why I even answered your DM in the first place.”

“What?” Azriel couldn’t find better words than that.

“Yeah, when I scrolled through your Instagram I saw a photo from Rhysand’s and Feyre’s wedding, so I kind of figured out who you were then. Nesta had mentioned you once or twice before, so I knew you weren’t a creep. And then I saw that selfie when you were carrying a lasagna, and you looked so good, so I answered your DM.” Her blush had almost turned a deep red.

Azriel couldn’t help but grin. “You answered because I looked hot? You said that the lasagna looked tasty…”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Want to hear another confession?”

Azriel nodded.

“Well, I kind of understood how to block words from the link you sent me, but I really wanted to talk to you more.”

Azriel’s mouth fell open in pretend shock. “Sneaky girl.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I just…”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Azriel interrupted. “Do you want to hear another of my confessions?”

“Yes, please.”

Azriel put his elbows in his knees and leaned forward. He could tell that her eyes went to his biceps. Good.

“Well, when I first saw one of your videos, I thought that you might be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Elain blushed even more, the color spreading to her chest. Not that Azriel was looking there.

“Really?”

“Yes. And when we talked on the phone, you know, that time when you lied about needing my help,” Azriel winked at her. “I hadn’t laughed that much in ages. I was so bummed because I thought that you lived on the other side of the country or something.”

“But I didn’t.” She smiled.

“You didn’t.” He smiled back.

They spent the entire night in Elain’s living room, just talking. Without even noticing it, a few hours went by. When they finished the sushi, Azriel made a snack buffet on the coffee table, which made Elain laugh.

“We are going to be so sick if we eat all of this.”

“Well, someone told me that she might be bedridden for more than a week, so maybe you could save some for the upcoming days of rest and relaxation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said and reached for the popcorn.

They continued flirting for the rest of the evening, but nothing explicit happened. They didn’t touch. Didn’t kiss. They just talked. It was all Azriel could have dreamt of. He had never felt so comfortable so quickly with anyone before. When it was close to midnight, he could tell that Elain was getting tired. After her fifth yawn, Azriel told her that he should probably get going.

She protested and then yawned again.

“Okay, I admit defeat,” she said and stretched. Azriel could see her stomach when her shirt rode up from the motion. It looked so wonderful and soft and…

He didn’t even have time to finish his thought, because Elain was trying to stand up by herself. Trying, and failing miserably.

“Could you help me to the bathroom?” she whispered and nodded to a white door just by the kitchen.

“Of course,” Azriel put his arm around her waist and supported her. She didn’t complain, but he could see the pain on her face. It hurt him to see her like this.

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth. Don’t go just yet.” She closed the door. Azriel leaned against the wall next to the door and dragged his hands through his hair.

He looked around the room, not quite believing that he was here. In Elain’s home.

This date had been even better than he could ever have imagined. He was actually quite happy that they hadn’t gone out, but he obviously didn’t like that the reason for staying home was that she was hurt.

The door opened again, and Elain looked at Azriel with a pale face. She was so obviously in pain. Azriel grabbed her around the waist again and held her up.

“Do you have any painkillers?”

She nodded. “By the bed. Could you help me? Just to the door.”

Azriel started leading the way, but after two steps Elain winced.

Azriel couldn’t take it anymore. “Hold on,” he warned her, and then he picked her up. She gasped and flung her arms around his neck. This was the closest they had ever been. One of his fingers graced the hem of her shirt. He could feel her skin there. He had to take a deep breath. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” she breathed, and he walked her to her room. He stopped at the door. It was a cozy bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue and above her bed hung a giant painting with a floral motif in a gold frame.

“Nice room,” he said. He didn’t put her down. She had said that she only needed help to the door, but he couldn’t see her walking to her bed all by herself,

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to...” he started, but he was interrupted when Elain said his name.

“Azriel,” she repeated.

He looked at her then, her face just inches from his. He could see every freckle on her skin. He could count every eyelash. His eyes went to her plush lips, and then back to her eyes.

Had she noticed?

She had his attention now.

“Azriel,” she whispered. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Azriel was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question. He didn’t mind, of course not. he was just surprised. She could probably see that in his eyes, because she quickly tried to smooth over it. “I mean, we don’t have to. I completely understand if you don’t want to, and I..”

Azriel kissed her temple to make her quiet. It worked very well. “You’re hurt.”

“Just my ankle,” Elain pouted. “Also, haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘kiss it better’?”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that it means that you should kiss the place that hurts,” he teased.

“Eh, semantics. I think a kiss on the lips might do wonders.”

Azriel leaned in, almost touching his lips to her. Almost. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased.

“Mhm,” she breathed.

Azriel stayed like that for a while, his lips just out of reach. He wanted her to beg. He wanted her to go crazy with want. With need.

But that was for another time. Right now, he just needed to kiss her.

Elain was tilting her head to get closer to him. Her mouth was slightly parted and her eyes scanned his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

Azriel leaned in slowly and brushed his lips to hers. It was a feathery light touch. He could feel Elain shiver in his arms, and he held her closer. Tighter. He touched her lips with his again, and he knew he needed more. He tasted her lips once more, his tongue teasing her lower lip. Elain opened up for him, letting him in. She moaned when he deepened the kiss. When he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. When her tongue joined his. They were both panting, unable to stop. Elain’s hands went to Azriel’s hair, gently scraping his scalp while her tongue tangled with his. The sensation made Azriel crazy, and if she hadn’t been injured he would have lowered her to the bed and continued his kisses down her body until she was writhing underneath him, begging for more.

But she was hurt. And it was late.

Unwillingly, Azriel slowed down before breaking the kiss.

“More,” Elain panted and kissed his jaw.

Azriel chuckled. “Don’t be greedy.”

She pouted when he walked over to her bed, and it was the cutest pout Azriel had ever seen. It was so cute in fact, that he had to lean in again and kiss her lower lip. He didn’t know how it happened, but he was suddenly sitting on Elain’s bed with her in his lap. He was still holding her tight, her fingers still in his hair. Their lips were locked in another kiss. This one was even hotter. Even deeper. Azriel thought to himself that he didn’t need air if he could just taste these lips for the rest of his life.

After a small eternity, they did have to break apart though. Turns out the human body needs air. Stupid body.

Elain leaned her forehead against his.

“I should go,” Azriel said, even though every fiber of his being protested that statement.

She nodded. “Okay.” She was still out of breath. So was he.

Elain kissed his forehead, which made him feel oddly safe. “So, can I have a second date?”

Azriel chuckled and nuzzled her neck. She smelled divine. He wanted nothing more than to taste her there; just below her ear.

“You can have as many dates as you want.”

“Good to know.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths, Azriel helped Elain into bed. He fetched her a glass of water for the painkillers and made sure that all her windows were closed.

He leaned against her doorframe, trying to memorize the sight of her in bed. She looked so cute. So vulnerable.

“Could you lock the door when you leave? My keys are on the kitchen counter. You can just put them in the mailbox.”

“Of course.” Azriel walked into her room again and leaned over her. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Sleep well, Elain.”

“You too, Azriel.”

She was already drifting off.

Azriel walked quietly through the apartment and made sure that the door was locked behind him.

Azriel was walking home on clouds that evening.

In his bones, he could feel that this was the start of something wonderful.

When he climbed into bed that night, he saw a new message from Elain. She must have sent it just after he left her place. He opened the message, and there was no text. Just an audio file.

He pressed play and was immediately met with her heavenly voice.

“I thought that this might help you sleep,” Elain whispered, and Azriel could feel tingles up and down his spine. “Thank you for a wonderful date, Azriel.”

And then she repeated his name. For five minutes, she was whispering “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel,” over and over again, and it made Azriel both sleepy and aroused.

It was actually a very pleasant feeling, he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

That night, he dreamt about brown eyes, golden hair, and the sweetest lips he had ever tasted. Azriel had never felt better.

[skylarmoon71]

Nick Jakoby x Reader Oneshot- (Bright)

“Oink, oink over here piggy!” 

The group of men standing in the doorway made you grimace. Damn they pissed you off. Nick walked pass them with his head lowered, trying his best to ignore the rude remarks. You’d just clocked in, and this had become a regular. Their tauntings. You really wanted to body slam all four of them. But you restrained yourself. “Don’t bother with them Nick, their dick heads. “ It was no secret that they hated the male Orc. Nick was by far the sweetest man on the force, and he wasn’t even a man. Which really said something for the unit. 

“I’m used to it, it’s fine.” you frowned. He shouldn’t have to get used to it. He was just as hardworking and diligent as any other cop. You nudged his shoulder with a smile as you walked with him. “Cheer up, in a couple of hours we have that awful dinner to attend. You have worse things ahead." Nick shook his head with a shy smile. “Is that supposed to make me feel better.” 

“Not really.” with a small giggle, you met your partner. Nick headed over to Ward, and your eyes wandered, just admiring him. You had no idea why people gave him such a hard time. It’s true that Orcs sided with the enemy in the past, but that was thousands of years ago. The world had changed so much since then, apparently not in the ways you hoped. 

Nick was so misunderstood and underappreciated. He had so much to offer if he was just given a chance. Not to mention he was a total sweetheart. Pretty handsome too. The final thought erupts a blush to your cheek, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“What’s got you all red in the face?” Jacob, your partner raises an eyebrow, and your face gets darker. “Nothing let’s get going.” he doesn’t quite believe you, and you try to steal one last look at Nick before you have to get going, but Jacob catches the action, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Shit I knew it!!” His yell catches the attention of everyone in a five mile radius and as the officers stare, you feel Nick’s stare follow. You cower, smacking Jacob who just waves everyone off. When their gazes have diverted, you glare at the man before you. He raises his hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry didn’t mean to cause a scene. Not everyday you discover your partner has a crush. Damn Victoria owes me twenty bucks!” 

“Y-You betted on my love life with your wife!!” 

“Umm, hell yeah I did. Why are you even surprised?” he was right, you shouldn’t have been. You just roll your eyes, and soon the both of you are headed to the squad car. Jacob is still wearing that smug grin as you jump into the vehicle. “So when are you gonna ask him out?” 

“I-I’m not!” 

“You’re kidding, you have to (Y/N)!” Jacob has always been majorly supportive, but you’re still a little anxious. Your head lowers. “Y-You don’t think it’s weird that I..I mean I don’t  care if anyone says anything but I just..I..” The way you're struggling with your words, it’s not hard for Jacob to understand. “Listen, I’d never judge you for something like that. We’re partners (Y/N), practically family now. And honestly Nick is awesome, dude brings me scones every Tuesday cause he passes at my favorite shop on his way to work. He’s a hero in my book.” He lets out a few fake sobs to get his point across and you just groan at his childishness.

“Seriously though, Nick’s a really good guy. Everyone treats him like shit, yet he comes back and tells them to be safe. If it were me, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it that well. He could easily quit, probably just become the monster everyone keeps accusing him of being. But he wakes up and he does the job, all because he loves it, he generally cares about protecting people who don’t give a shit about him. It’s inspiring to watch. There aren’t many people like left in this world (Y/N), if you find someone like that, you should do what you can to hold onto them.” His finger ran over his wedding band, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s what I did.” His smile makes your face brighten, and you nod. 

“I’ll do my best. “ 

So maybe your partner wasn’t a complete idiot. 

That afternoon when you get home, you’re on a mission. Jacob’s advice is ringing in your head. He’s right. So you’ve decided this annual police will be your best yet. You were gonna go all out. You rarely ever get dressed up, too accustomed to dark suit pants and uncomfortable belts. You wanted something to catch Nick’s attention, then maybe it would give you the confidence to finally own up to your feelings and ask the guy out. You jump into the shower. 

“Time to knock them dead. “ 

~Three hours later~

“Quit fidgeting, you look fine.” Ward smacks Nick’s hands away from the tie. He’s been messing with it for the last ten minutes, mostly out of nervousness. This is his first time he’s worn a tux. He feels a bit ridiculous, but with Ward’s assurance, he can only hope he’s pulling it off. They stand at a table making small talk, mostly Ward. 

Nick offers a word here and there. By the looks he keeps getting, he can tell that his opinion isn’t really wanted by the people there. So he busies himself with watching the other people mingling around him. Everyone looks relaxed, sipping wine, helpling themselves to food. He’s never been a fan of this. Every year they hold these little banquets to treat the new recruits and commend exemplary performances throughout the unit. It’s a fun event for the most part. But his fellow coworkers never rest with their harsh opinions. It isn’t even verbal, just by the looks he knows. 

The sound of a few whistles catches his attention. There’s a small commotion at the doorway. He vaguely makes out the edge of purple, and that’s when he notices the man that walks in. But that isn’t what captures his eyes, it’s the woman he’s escorting on his arm. 

Golden orbs widen, and his ears twitch a bit too quickly. He wants to control it, but it’s hard, because the smile that lands in his direction knocks the wind right out of him. “Wow, your girlfriend cleans up nice.” Ward whispers. 

“S-She’s not my girlfriend.” he grumbles back. Now that you’re clear in his view, he can fully admire your dress. It’s a velvet luxe maxi dress. The color is a beautiful lavender. Thin straps at the shoulder, low cut displaying just enough cleavage. And a slit that stops mid thigh, with matching heels to complete the whole look. Your hair is loose, and a very light amount of makeup, highlighting your features. Nick thought you were gorgeous before, but somehow you’ve outdone yourself. He can’t look away, and he really should before you take notice.You settle at a table not too far from him, pulling the focus of a few males present there. With polite smiles and little words, Nick feels a bit envious. 

“Now’s your chance hotshot. Ask her out before one of those hyenas beat you to it.” Nick wants to convince Ward that it’s useless, there’s no way you’d go for someone like him. You’re completely different in every sense of the word. He doesn’t have a chance. As he opens his mouth he’s about to lay out his case, but a sweet lavender scent fills his nostrils, and he wants to question the origin, just then he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns, and the heavenly aroma hits him tenfold. Somehow you’ve walked over without him realizing. He’s supposed to be more aware, he’s a cop after all. Your glossed lips turn into a smile as you bat your eyes. 

“Nick..do you wanna maybe dance?” 

The slow sound filling the room, doubled with the couples now filling up the floor catches his eyes. He’s tongue tied, because you can’t really be asking him. Out of all the guys there, why him? Yes, the both of you have been friends for months now, but he’s sort of assumed your kindness was due to pity more than anything else. 

You're still watching him hopefully, and Ward gives an encouraging push. He stumbles, grabbing your shoulders lightly. When he’s steadied himself, he pulls back. “He’d love to.” Ward says. Nick doesn’t get a chance to put in a word for himself, because you smile, taking his hand and pulling him to the center of the dance floor. Nick is staggering behind, trying not to knock into anyone. When you get to your desired area, you turn back to him. Nick is stiff, the both of you are just standing there, a number of eyes on you. “I-I should probably just go, everyone is staring and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable.” His eyes lift, and the way you look at him, it makes his heart hammer. What has he done to deserve your kindness, he has no idea. 

Deciding that you need to be the one to make a move, you take his hands and place them around your waist as you step closer. You can feel the slight tremble in his palms that are pressed to your body now. It’s so adorable. He’s still stiff as a board, but you know he’s trying. He’s probably so touch starved. It hurts to just think about it. Your hands are resting on his chest lightly, and you sigh, swaying with the music. Nick swallows, he’s a bit taller than you, and he’s trying his best not to look down directly at you. With you so close it’s hard for him not to pass out at how amazing you smell. Your hands slide up, going around his neck. His eyes finally meet yours, and the meaning in your eyes, it triggers something in him. “Nick..” you’re whispering, and it breaks his train of thought. “Yeah.” you lick your lips, and he wishes he could just kiss those plump lips. They are begging to be touched.  

“Do you possibly want to-” a hand pulling you from the Orc in your arms makes you jerk. Nick looks just as surprised. The officer standing between the both of you, suddenly it makes sense, and you're pissed. “Run along pig face, she’s tired of you.” Pollard rests a hand on your waist, pulling you into his side, and you shove him back. “You’re the one who’s interrupting, what the hell we were dancing!!” you're enraged. Not only has he messed up your plan to finally ask Nick out, but he’s also insulted him. Nick can see the displeasure on your face, and he’s about to suggest that maybe you leave. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught in the middle of this. He could take Pollard’s insults any day. But he doesn’t want any negative attention drawn to you. 

“Come on you don’t have to give anymore charity, we all know why you do this. You feel bad for little piggy here. Don’t waste your evening on him, how about you come with me. Have some real fun.” It’s almost laughable that he thinks you’ll drop everything and just run off with him. Nick now looks less sure of himself, a bit defeated. It’s then you realize that he must have assumed the same. You’re being nice out of some foolish obligation. You open your mouth to assure him, but stop. This time, words may not be enough. It’s time to take action. So with two swift strides you grab Nick by the lapels of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. Pollard gapes, and Nick is tense and wide eyed. 

“I’m dreaming…” He has to be. You couldn’t be..kissing him. Your eyes are closed, and you still have a firm hold on his clothing. A few more seconds pass and you pull back slowly. Your eyes move from Nick’s soft lips, to his topaz eyes. The bewildered expression is highly anticipated. 

“If you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” you take Nick’s hand, leaving a stunned Pollard, and a few surprised officers. You don’t even look back, you do however pass Jacob on your way out of the building. He’s grinning probably wider than you. When the door snaps shut behind you and you're free of the intrusive stares, you look at Nick. He’s still in a mid state of shock. “I’m sorry..” you mutter. 

Now that the events play back, you’re bashful. You didn’t even get to ask him out. Nick collects himself slowly, shaking his head. “N-No it’s fine.” An awkward silence follows. You want to say something to cut the tension, but Nick interrupts. “I should take you home.” He doesn't look at you when he says that, and now you're a bit scared that you’ve crossed a line and misread all the signs. Self conscious and mortified, you just nod. Nick’s car is parked close, as he opens the door, you jump inside. He does the same, pulling off. 

The ride is anything but pleasant. It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Nick is staring ahead, and the look he wears is unreadable. 

“I ruined everything.” You should have never done that, especially since you weren’t even sure of any feelings. He must be completely disgusted with you. You're thankful that the ride isn’t long, because in a few minutes he pulls up. You don’t make any kind of eye contact, just whisper a thanks, opening the door and stepping out. 

You want to cry, how did the night turn so horrible that quickly. As you close the vehicle door, you all but sprint to your house, taking out your keys and opening your front door. You don’t even bid him goodbye, you just focus on getting inside. You do, stepping in and leaning back as you shut the door. “Idiot!” you scold yourself. “I’m an idiot..” you bite your lip. How would you ever face him again. 

The knock at your door makes you jump, and you turn, opening the door hesitantly. You peek outside, a bit surprised. “N-Nick..” He’s staring at you, maybe wanting answers for all that happened. You step back, letting him inside. He’s the one that closes the door this time. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Blunt, to the point. From the look, you know he’s just as conflicted by all of this as you. Now might be your last chance. You’ve already kissed him, what was the harm in telling him the truth. It might help you both.

“Because I..It’s what I’ve wanted to do for months now. “ you confess. His forehead creases in astonishment. “Nick I’ve..I’ve had it bad for you for so long and it makes my blood boil every time I hear the way they talk to you! You’re so caring and selfless and goddamn hot to me and I wish everyone could see how amazing you are if they’d just give you an opportunity.” you’re rambling, but you don’t care. “That jackass Pollard ruined everything I had this whole night planned out, I was gonna wow you with this dress and then finally ask you out but then he came with his false macho bullshit and it just pissed me off and that’s why I grabbed you like that to show him that this isn’t some charity I actually am crazy about you and I..” you heave, for a minute there you forgot you should breathe. “I’m so crazy about you Nick.” 

He’s still just standing there, and now you’ve given him a chance to speak. From his expression, he doesn’t know what to say. You were so out of his league. 

“I don’t understand why you would..why..” that self conscious  look, you’ve seen it many times. 

“Nick, I want you.” he stops, eyes opening a bit wider now. “I’m tired of you being so hard on yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of.  “ you take a step forward, and he doesn’t move a muscle. “Truthfully, when I saw you earlier in this tux, I almost passed out. “ your hands reach out, going back to where they had been before Pollard stepped in. Resting right on his broad shoulders. Another thing about him that made you swoon was his build. He was nicely muscular. It just messed you up. He needs a moment to gather his breath. “Nick do you..want me?” 

“Of course!” his shout, as unexpected as it is, it makes you smile. He looks away at how desperate it sounded. “That’s good..” you don’t clarify, just lean in, and this time when your lips meet, he still doesn’t really prepare. It’s so tender, almost tentative. When he finally convinces his mind that it’s real, his hands wrap around your body, pulling you in. You sigh, and Nick responds, returning the kiss. Your head is in the clouds, You feel like you’re dreaming, if that’s the case you want to stay forever. You open your mouth, urging him to do the same, he does, taking control. 

You moan when he pushes you up against the door, now kissing you hungrily. One of his hands drift down to your bare thigh, and another needy sound releases. You can’t stop it and you don’t want to. His free hand presses to the door, and your hands grip at the clothes on his back. You’re trying to pull him forward, and he complies, pressing into you. It feels so great, his firm body trapping you there. There’s a low growl that comes from Nick, and somehow you’re even more turned on. Your hands have ventured back to the front of his tux, unbuttoning it quickly. It falls open and your fingers slip under the jacket, reveling in the taunt muscles. 

Gosh does he feel amazing. Nick feels you start to pull at the shirt, he forces himself to part. When you’ve separated, you’re both flushed and panting. Nick still believes maybe he’s at home sleeping somehow. The new scent that fills the air nearly makes his knees buckle. Your lust is so prominent, he can almost taste it. Your chest is still heaving, but you're slowly coming down from your high, so is Nick. It’s then you realize what was about to happen if not for Nick’s pause. You feel a bit embarrassed now. You hug yourself, blushing a deep red. 

“S-Sorry, guess I kind of got a bit crazy..” Nick smiles. “You don’t have to apologize.” He’d be stupid to make you feel bad about such a thing. He was just as equally responsible. Fact is, it took everything in him to stop himself. As much as he wants this to progress, he also wants more than just a heated night with you. He wants so much more. 

“(Y/N), I’d..really like to take you out sometime..” he mumbles it, still fairly insecure about it all. The way your eyes light up though, his fears are all gone. You don’t respond, and he doesn’t need one because you jump into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek, grinning like a child on Christmas.

“You don’t even have to ask, it’s a yes.” you  whisper in his ear. He holds you close, breathing in your scent. He wants to lock that away forever. He wants this to last forever. For now though, just being with you now, it’s enough.

[minmindreaming]

Dad Mode | Chapter 1

Word count: 4.5k

Genre: Fluff (with the smallest sprinkle of angst)

Pairings: Dad!Namjoon x Teacher!Reader (feat Kid!Jungkook)

Summary: It’s been three years since the first time he walked into your classroom, small, shy son in his arms, already whining about the first day of class. Yet even as Jungkook now turns 6 you still feel yourself blushing around his cute dad, Namjoon. What happens when you find yourself alone with him? And the two of you struggle to keep your crushes at bay

A.N: 2 years later and I come back with a freaking Dad!Namjoon fic, of course...

A soft giggle made the man turn around, his eyes wide as he looked around frantically. To the casual listener the sound wouldn’t have sounded any different than any of the other kids running around the playground, but Namjoon could pick that one out in any crowd. He stood up, looking over the large seesaw for his little trickster, but alas, once again he couldn’t find him. “Jungkook I swear to god… I lost okay? I lost, just come out” But the small boy was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon sighed heavily, not even being able to mask his worry as other parents played with their kids happily. “Jungkook… please I-” “Need some help?” The sun shone from behind your frame, blinding Namjoon for a second before he was able to focus his sight. Your smile was the first thing he noticed, as soft as he remembered, always shining with a sense of calmness that even his own nerves couldn’t beat. “I can’t find him…” he admitted without fear, he knew that after all this time there was no way you’d judge him You laughed softly, nodding as you crotched down to his level, looking around the area as you focused your hearing to find the same soft giggle Namjoon had been listening for, “he’s always been the best at hide and seek” you admitted, laughing a tad harder as Namjoon sighed in exasperation. Your eyes trailed towards the large plastic castle left of the seesaw, a few brown strands peaking up from the top floor of the tower, a small smile covering your lips as you spoke, “Kookie… I was about to go start with the class games… But I guess since you’re not here I’m gonna have to ask Taehyung to help m-” and like clockwork, those tiny brown eyes were staring right at you “No!” Namjoon’s mouth fell agape as he saw his son sliding down the castle’s yellow slide and running straight at you, as if he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes making a fool out of his dad. You opened your arms and instantly the 6 year old ran into them, clinging to you with all the confidence in the world, knowing damn well that he was gonna be the one helping with the class games. “You promised I could help!” he exclaimed, pouting as you stood up with him in your arms “Well, you’re the one who was slacking in your duties to go play hide and seek” you answered, trying hard not to laugh at his shocked face. “It’s not my fault!! Daddy took too long to find me…” And now it was Namjoon’s turn to pout. You turned to the man, giggling softly as he stuttered, trying to think about something to say, something to protect his integrity as a dad… But Jungkook was right, Namjoon had absolutely no idea where he was. You shook your head softly at Namjoon, making sure he knew it was okay before you put Jungkook down on his feet, ignoring the small pout the boy gave you before he ran straight towards his dad’s side. “Why don’t you go get the rest of the boys into our room Kookie? I’m just gonna clean up here and i’ll be right there okay?” you asked as you smiled at him softly The boy nodded excitedly, always happy to help, and not a second later he was running towards the small kindergarten you had started a few years ago. You watched the boy with a small smile, even the sight of him bringing you a sense of joy you knew was special.  

“I swear, he makes me look so bad…” Namjoon groaned, patting down his olive chino pants as he stepped towards you “He’s one of the happiest little boys I know Mr. Kim,” you started, giving him a genuine smile, “he makes you look great” Joon’s eyebrows rose at your words, staring back at you for a second before his eyes softened, whole body relaxing just as his dimples appeared on his face, a small, shy smile on his lips. “He really loves it when you’re able to join for break time, it’s easy to tell, that cheeky smile of his doesn’t leave his face for the rest of the day” you commented, trying not to sound too excited yourself. After all, you were only talking about Jungkook Namjoon looked back at the building Kook had run into, a small smile on his lips as he nods, “yeah… I wish I was able to come more often I just-” “It’s okay,” you said, a hand on his shoulder as you started walking towards the building, “that’s why I’m here Mr. Kim” Namjoon watched as you passed him, his eyes mindlessly trailing down your frame, taking in the way your strands of hair peaked out out your messy bun.. How your cream coloured blouse tucked into the back of your light jeans. The way you always looked entirely too perfect for someone who spent the day looking after children. He caught himself staring, shaking his head lightly before he followed you into the small building and towards the main classroom where he could hear the children welcoming you excitedly. He waved goodbye to a few familiar parents as they started heading home or towards work, the large red clock on the wall signalling to him that class was about to start and he himself should be making his way to work. But he couldn’t help but head in for another peek. He leaned against the classroom’s door frame, smiling as he saw Jungkook running up to you the second you reached your desk, the boy clearly enamored with his teacher. Namjoon tried to hide the smile it brought to his lips, knowing that one came from a deeper place, more dangerous… It wasn’t everyday that he was able to see Jungkook this happy with someone else, of course it would make him feel a certain type of way, but he shouldn’t let that interfere with the somewhat professional relationship he had with you. Jungkook’s caught sight of his father, his large front teeth on full display as he ran towards Namjoon, tiny arms trying their damn hardest to circle the tall man’s legs. Namjoon patted his hair down softly, smiling, “hey, I’ll be back later okay?” he tried, but Jungkook put up no fight, “I know” he smiled up at his dad. He knew Namjoon was always there to take him home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You were proud of the fact that you hardly let the kids see you anxious, knowing damn well how easily they can pick up on other people’s anxiety. But right now, listening to your favourite little boy crying his eyes out, it was getting really really hard to stay calm. You stepped closer to Jungkook's desk, the boy with his head shoved up against the wooden table as he tried hiding his tears from you, despite his wails being loud enough to fill the whole room. 

For almost an hour now you had tried calming him down, staying with him as he watched one by one the kids leave at the end of the day, his smile faltering with every single friend that walked out the door. But by the time the last one left, he could barely keep the sobs in. Despite the thousands of apologies Namjoon had already blasted your phone with, the man was still stuck at work. By now, you knew it was inevitable, and you couldn’t fault him from struggling to juggle his work and Jungkook, but the boy did not see it that way. “Kookie… Daddy is just late, you’ll be home soon okay?” you tried, flinching softly as Jungkook wailed louder, “Nooo… He left me here! He left me…” Your heart broke at the hurt you could hear in his voice, and as you looked at the clock once again, your mind was made up. You made your way to the other side of the room, dialling Namjoon’s number as you turned away from Jungkook. It didn’t take him long to pick up, and immediately you could hear the desperation in his voice, the man struggling to stay on the phone as he rushed into his car. “(Y/N) is everything okay?! I’m on my way! I’ll be there soon I-” “Mr.Kim,” you started calmly, not wanting to let him ramble on, “everything is fine, Jungkook is okay… I’m just…” you closed your eyes… trying to stop the blush making its way onto your face, this was what was best for Jungkook, “why don’t I drive him over to your house?” You could hear Namjoon pause, and for a second you regretted your decision, but just as Jungkook sobbed again the man spoke, “really?” “Yeah,” you continued, “I think Jungkook is just uncomfortable not being home, and I know it takes you longer to get here so it might be best for him if I just meet you at your home? It’s no trouble for me to drive hi-” “Yes! Oh my god (Y/N) yes, thank you so much, wow, I-” You cut him off again, the sound of him using your first name finally cracking you and making you blush, “it’s okay! He’ll just be happy to be home… I’ll see you soon then” you finished, perhaps a bit too rushed before you quickly hung up. You stared at the wall for a second, for the first time in years your crush coming back to hit you with full force. But you knew now was not the time to fangirl over the cute single dad at your work. Jungkook needed you, and you weren’t about to let a silly crush get in the way of making your little Kookie feel better. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time you rolled into Namjoon’s driveway Jungkook was all but knocked out in the back seat. His cheeks were still stained with tears, eyes still slightly puffy as the young boy struggled to keep them open. He had panicked so much earlier… No wonder he was tired. You parked the car, looking back at him for a second with a small frown. The way he freaked out, the things he said… You know he was thinking back to his mother. You didn’t know the details, and you know Jungkook was too young to remember. But the boy was too smart for his own good, surely by now he had put two and two together. It wasn’t hard, seeing all his friends always being dropped off by two parents while he always only had Namjoon. You sighed as you opened your door, walking back to grab him from his seat just as Namjoon opened the front door, running down the steps. You pulled Jungkook’s sleeping body into your arms, signalling for Namjoon to be quiet just as the man was about to speak. But he saw you, softening his steps as he got closer, a sad frown on his face as he got a glimpse of Kook’s cheeks. You gave Namjoon an understanding smile, following him towards the house before you passed the sleeping boy to his dad. Namjoon held Jungkook close, his hands gripping the boy a tad too tightly as he whispered towards you, “will you wait here a second? I’m just gonna take him upstairs” You nodded as you stepped inside the house with him, standing by the entrance as you watched Namjoon quickly make his way to the second floor. You took the time to look around, smiling softly as you saw both their personalities plastered around the home. You could see Namjoon’s style within the earthy tones that filled the home, the whole clearly decorated to perfection, before hurricane Jungkook took over with his action figures and games, laying over every furniture piece in the home. Your eyes shifted towards the stairs as you heard Namjoon walking back down, finally noticing his appearance. The usually put-together, care-free man had certainly had a stressful day. His bleached white hair had been pushed back, the sleeves of his brown shirt rolled up to his elbows, collar opened a button-too-low. You blinked a couple times before looking away, acting as if you were still just looking around as he reached you. “Miss. (L/N) I am so so sorry for this. I had absolutely no way of getting out of my meeting earlier and…” he tried, pushing his hair back once more as you raised your hands to calm him, “no no, don’t worry! Really, these things happen” He looked at you as if he wanted to apologise once more, but caught himself. Honestly, at this point even Namjoon couldn’t keep track of how many times he had done so that night, and in his mind no amount of apologies could make up for what had happened. You swayed slightly as you looked around, the awkwardness finally getting to you and flaring up your nerves. “I should go…” you muttered, trying your best to sound casual, but Namjoon was apparently hellbent on making your heart flutter. “Wait! Uhm… Can I make you some dinner?” he started, your eyes widening at the proposal, “Jungkook might be too tired to eat but I’m sure you’re hungry. Please, it’s the least I can do” For what felt like forever you just stood there speechless. You knew that any second now you would become a blushing mess, maybe you could still get out of it somehow? But as Namjoon saw the gears in your head turning he double down, the sweetest puppy eyes looking down at you as he insisted once more. So that’s where Jungkook gets it from… You giggled at your thought, nodding your head slowly and holding back the other giggle that his bright smile enlisted. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Namjoon was Jungkook’s dad, a client, you needed to be able to act normal around him. This little crush had gone on for way too long anyways. Namjoon led you towards the large kitchen, motioning for you to sit behind the large granite island as he made his way towards the fridge. You rested your chin on your hand as you sat down, watching him as he moved around, grabbing glasses and plates, only to stop as he looked for what to make. At this point you had known Namjoon for a while, and you had seen Jungkook play pranks on him enough to know when he got nervous. You leaned right to look around him, giggling softly as you noticed him staring at his weirdly stocked fridge blankly. His body picked up your giggle, and he turned around with a sheepish grin, clearly thinking about how he'd explain to you that he was a terrible cook. But he forgot that you were best friends with his kid. “You know, a little bird told me that you guys’ favourite meals come straight out of there, and not the fridge” you joked as you pointed to Namjoon’s phone sitting on the counter. The man turned to look at it, chuckling lightly as he knew there was no hiding things from you. He didn’t keep secrets from Jungkook and apparently Jungkook didn’t keep secrets from you either.  “Yeah… This household runs a little differently… I’m-” but he stopped himself. He had apologised enough tonight. Honestly, why was he even doing it that much? Namjoon couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous around a woman, especially after Jungkook was born. But whenever you were in the room he just couldn’t stop himself. It also didn’t help that you were kind, beautiful, Jungkook absolutely loved you, and you were so, absolutely, incredibly, ho- Breathe Namjoon. Without much thought he grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge, not noticing the look you gave him as he grabbed two glasses, chuckling to himself. He placed both glasses on the island across from you, only looking up at you as he was opening the bottle, and immediately realising what he was doing. “Fuck, I didn’t even ask. I’m sorry, I… Would you like some wine? Oh no wait you’re driving, I just, I-” You giggled at his reaction, shaking your head slightly, “it’s okay. It’s been a long day, I could have one glass, just one” He sighed in relief as you agreed, pouring both glasses before putting away the bottle and walking around the island towards your side. He passed it towards you before sitting on the stool beside you, a tad too close perhaps. Maybe this was where him and Jungkook had breakfast? For a second you dared imagine how cute the two would look, Jungkook asking for help to get on the stool, Namjoon feeding him as you grabbed both a glass of orange juice from the fridg- Why were you in that fantasy? You brought the glass to your lips to shut up your thoughts, the tang of the white wine making everything a little better. “Thank you Mr. Kim” “Namjoon” Your eyes widened slightly at his word, watching him as he chuckled, “you can call me Namjoon. I mean, we are having a glass of wine in my kitchen… And how long have we even known each other for, 3 years? I think it’s about time Miss. (L/N)” he grinned casually “(Y/N). You can call me (Y/N) then” you smiled, trying to hide the excitement of hearing it from his lips once again. “It has in fact been a long time though, 3 years this year… God I can’t believe Jungkook is 6” you whined, remembering the cute little boy that waddled into your class that first day. 

“You tell me, sometimes I think time is playing a trick on me…” he agreed. Namjoon took a sip of his wine before he turned his body towards you, his face a little more serious, “how was he?” 

You knew what he was asking about, and from the looks of it, he already knew the

answer. But you still wanted to try, “he was fine! A bit confused but you know he’s young and-” “Y/N…” 

You stopped, sighing before you told him the truth, “he thought you had just left him there… I had never seen Jungkook like that, he was terrified. I tried calming him down, it had only been an hour, but he was…” you trailed off, remembering how absolutely heartbroken the boy was. But as you looked at Namjoon, you could see the same exact feeling in him. “Is it because…?

“His mother… Yes” Namjoon sighed You noticed your own question, groaning at yourself for bringing it up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry” But Namjoon shook his head, giving you a small smile, “it’s okay”. But why? Why was it okay? Namjoon rarely ever talked about Jungkook’s mother, yet somehow he felt inclined to tell you about it. Without thinking about it further he went on, “I haven’t talked about it much with Jungkook, but he knows. He was too young to remember, but he knows…” he sighed, taking another sip of his wine before he went on, “we were both young when she found out, too young to be having a kid. But I was so sure of it, I just wanted to be a dad. We actually tried, and it worked, for a little while. When Jungkook was just a baby he took up enough of our time that we didn’t really notice how badly things were going… But by the time he was two she just couldn’t take it anymore” For a moment, you found it hard not to feel resentment for a woman that would just leave Jungkook and Namjoon like that, but Joon didn’t seem to hold any grudge in his heart. “I was lucky enough to already have my career by then, but she was only just getting started. The pressure on new mothers is so insane… It wasn’t fair for me to make her give that all up for a life she didn’t want” He looked up at you, eyes widening slightly at the look of sadness you had, before he chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I don’t blame her, or regret anything, it gave me Jungkook and that’s all I care about.” You wanted to say something, to tell him he was doing great and everything would be fine, that you were there for him. But who even were you? The teacher? Was it really your place to say anything. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? What made you open up the school?” he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject You thought about it for a second, smiling to yourself as you remembered the journey it took to open your small little school, “I had always dreamed of working for myself,  and after my Masters it just seemed like the right choice. I was definitely ready to take the leap and open my own place but god I was so scared” you chuckled, a small blush on your cheeks, “I’ve always loved kids, I mean, I studied for this you know, but owning your own business is a whole other beast… I just knew that I wanted to be able to help kids on my own terms, without all the bureaucracy that came with my old school. They treated the children like clients there, I would never have been able to stay with a kid like Jungkook if a parent was late, and that’s not right…” You looked up at him, smiling softly as you noticed he was giving you his full attention, “It’s crazy to think that i’ve been doing this for almost 5 years now…” “I mean, given that i’ve trusted you with my son for over half of those, i’d say you’re doing a pretty good job” Namjoon offered, his dimples showing as he smiled at you You giggled, nodding, “thank you for that Mr.K- Namjoon… It’s honestly been such a treat to be able to watch Kookie grow.” 

“It makes me happy too. You’re probably one of the most consistent things in his life… I’m just glad he has some other than screw-up ol’ dad to rely on” 

Honestly, how many times had Namjoon had this conversation with himself? Jungkook was lucky to have you, you were probably the closest thing to a mother he had, and a freaking perfect one at that. Namjoon could not recall the amount of times he caught himself thinking about that, only to tell himself to stop being a creep. But it was almost impossible for him not to fall hard. You are practically everything he ever wanted. “He really loves you Namjoon,” you started, smiling at him as your hand mindlessly reached for his, “you should see the way he talks about you… You’re his hero. He’s a very lucky boy to have you as a dad and he knows it. It’s time you figure that out too” you giggled softly, trying to reassure him. Namjoon stared at you for a second, his expression unlike anything you’d seen before, yet you couldn’t make yourself look away. “You really love him, don’t you?” he asked Your eyes widened for a second, a blush making its way onto your face as you finally felt the reality of your words reach you. Was it too much? You didn’t want to seem weird or like you were prying too much. But you couldn’t hide the fact that Jungkook held a special place in your heart, one that not many of your students had touched. There was just something about him that just made you want to be there… “He’s a special boy” “You’re special”

Namjoon looked down at your hand atop of his, his own turning slowly to be able to grip your wrist, pulling you towards him slowly. He looked up, eyes fixed on yours as he searched for any sign of discomfort, but the gaze of pure hope you had simply solidified his resolve. Without much more thought his other hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a slow, deep kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut, body leaning into his as you whimpered softly against his lips, the feeling of them on your making your mind go blank. You couldn’t stop yourself as you reached for his shirt, pulling him closer as your hands gripped the fabric tightly. And Namjoon was right there with you. He didn’t think twice about hoping off his stool, lips never leaving yours as he pushed your legs apart gently, moving to stand in between them before he deepened the kiss. Surely by now your whole body was on fire, hands gripping at every last inch of his shirt as you tried keeping yourself grounded somehow, trying your best to stay sane and calm, but as you felt Namjoons tongue running across your bottom lip, you lost it. “Namjoon…” you moan quietly Yet all it did was alert the man of exactly what you two were doing. “Fuck… (Y/N) I’m so sorry I, I didn’t mean to go this fast I just -” “No! I…” but how could you tell him you liked it without sounding too desperate? “Please…” you looked up at him, your hand gripping his shirt tighter. Namjoon stared back at you for a second, his eyes a tad wide before it finally hit him, and he wasn’t about to wait another second. He had waited almost 3 years already. His hands cupped your face, pulling you in for a heated kiss, the frustration of having waited this long apparent in how he held you close, lips moving as if in sync with yours. You two were practically drowning in each other,  you two pressing against each other in the most delicious of ways as the world around lay there forgotten. So much so no one heard the small steps walking down the staircase. “Daddy, what are you and Miss (Y/N) doing? The quiet voice made your flinch, both of you tearing away from each other so fast you were sure you could feel some whiplash from it, but it didn’t stop either of you from looking at Jungkook and shouting, “Jungkook!”  

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings:  Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap.  Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing​​​, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell​​ for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life. 

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up. 

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

--

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that. 

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning. 

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of ​​the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did. 

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft. 

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?” 

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over.  “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old. 

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave. 

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one. 

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look. 

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

--

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are. 

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement. 

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time. 

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back. 

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged. 

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested.  Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough. 

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street. 

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere. 

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee. 

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully. 

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.” 

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.” 

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place. 

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut. 

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested. 

 Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.” 

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.”  It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee. 

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them. 

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

--

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare. 

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

 “I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.” 

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world. 

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again. 

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face. 

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it. 

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

--

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.” 

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu. 

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face. 

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.” 

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray. 

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over. 

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.” 

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow. 

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.” 

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile. 

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal. 

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

--

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

 You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle. 

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all.  “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime. 

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money.  He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes. 

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner. 

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

-

[to be continued]

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please

Written: 2021

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup

Masterlist

I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party. 

After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?

“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.

“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.

****

“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited. 

“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.

Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.

“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake. 

“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.

“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”

We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.

Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.

“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.

“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.

“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”

“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”

I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.

“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.

“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.

“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.” 

“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”

“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”

Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.

“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”

“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.

It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.

The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.

“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.

“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.

“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.

As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.

“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.

“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.

“My last name is L/N.”  

[yoontopia]

sobremesa | kth

pairing: kim taehyung x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers(?). tiny amounts of smut in the form of grinding, heavy makeout sessions in a car, mostly fluff, microscopic amounts of angst HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAE!!!!

rating: M

word count: 9.1k

sobremesa: a spanish word for that time spent after a meal, hanging out with family or friends, enjoying each others’ company

summary: you’ve known Kim Taehyung practically all your life – your parents are best friends and that inevitably leads to the two of you being forced to hang out at family gatherings – being the same age and all. But you don’t really know Kim Taehyung beyond cramped bedrooms, family potlucks, and annual New Year’s Eve parties. He’s never been a part of your picture and you’ve never been a part of his. You know Kim Taehyung in snapshots, periodic glimpses into his life over shared meals that will never overlap with yours outside these little moments. Or so you think.

                                                         -2006-

“This is my boy – Taehyung – he’s twelve too!” Mr. Kim announces, with a wide smile on his face. You stare curiously at the little boy hiding behind his father. He’s got a tuft of dark hair and he looks over at you curiously, like you’re a specimen at a museum. Your dad pats you on your back and one look at his face tells you that you’re meant to entertain this Taehyung kid.

“Oh, um,” you say, stepping forward. “We can just hang out in my room, I guess.”

“We’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” your mom tells you, smiling encouragingly. You nod and beckon Kim Taehyung upstairs. He follows you wordlessly and you usher him into your bedroom. He looks around, that same curious expression on his face before making himself comfortable on the beanbag chair you keep in your room.

“So, do you wanna like—watch a movie or something?” You don’t have a lot of experience with boys. Taehyung is small for his age though, and you can look at him in the eye if he stands up. He’s a lot smaller than the boys you’re used to at school, and so you find yourself more comfortable with him. He shrugs in response and you heave out your beloved laptop your dad had so kindly let you use for the night. Taehyung’s eyes flicker towards your bookshelf and his expression visibly brightens.

“You like Cardcaptor Sakura?” he asks, and you hear his voice for the first time. You look at him in surprise. No boy at your school likes Cardcaptor Sakura, but you love the series and your parents bought you a couple of volumes for your birthday.

“Yeah! It’s really cute. Uhm… do you wanna watch that instead? I have the DVD set.” Taehyung nods, looking far more enthusiastic than before and the two of you binge the entire first season, sitting shoulder to shoulder on your double bed.

                                                         -2007-

You don’t know anyone here. It’s somebody’s birthday, but they’re an adult and you don’t really care. These kids are unfamiliar and rowdy and honestly all you want to do is go home and read Harry Potter until you fall asleep. You’d hang out with your parents, but they’d ushered you to go play with the other kids. Looking through the various bedrooms in this ridiculously large house you hear voices coming from behind a shut door.

Knocking before opening it slowly, you peek in only to find Kim Taehyung with his arm around some kid’s neck. They’re on the floor, wrestling. Boys, you sigh mentally. Taehyung looks up, hair in his eyes, a sheen of sweat covering him.

“My phone—get my phone!” He’s yelling your name and you’re surprised he even remembers you. You’d only hung out a handful of times after your first, fateful meeting after all. You glance down and pick up the small black device the other boy is trying to reach for. Taehyung lets the other kid go and he’s gasping for air as you hand the phone back to its rightful owner.

“I’m Jungkook,” the boy introduces, voice high. “Junghyun’s younger brother,” You have no idea who Junghyun is, but you nod and introduce yourself anyway. “Are you Tae’s age?” Your eyes travel to Taehyung, who’s scrolling on his phone now.

“Yeah,” he answers for you, and you’re surprised to hear how his voice has deepened. “She’s my age. Close the door, will you? We’re watching Claymore and Kook’s mom will have a stroke if she finds out—he’s only ten.” You shut the door behind you cautiously. At least he hadn’t demanded you leave.

Feeling weirdly accepted and elated, you sit down to join the boys.

                                                       -2008-

Jungkook becomes a part of your small family-friends group. None of you even go to the same schools, but you see each other occasionally when your parents want to spend time with their friends. You like Jungkook, even though he’s younger. He’s friendly and bubbly and likes manga as much as you do. You’re still scared of his older brother though, but Junghyun is old (three whole years older than you!) and he’s allowed to stay home alone when his parents leave so he never comes anyway. Rumor has it that he even has a girlfriend.

You’re making it through life like any middle-schooler would. You have two close friends at school that you do everything with and it’s the year your dad presents you with your first phone. It’s got a full keyboard and you can text Jiyeon and Solhee whenever you want. You spend hours into the night talking about Jung Hoseok, who’s a ninth grader, and how cool he is. You have the tiniest crush on Hoseok – he’s the dance team captain, and he always smiles at you in the hallways even though he doesn’t know you. Hoseok smiles at everyone, it’s just how amazing he is. You’re too shy to talk to him though, envying the girls he speaks to on the daily. You think you and Hoseok would be good friends if you were braver.

                                                        -2009-

“You’re going to a French immersion high school? Seriously?” You don’t know if you’re more impressed or exasperated. Maybe both. Taehyung nods and accepts the cup of tea you offer him. You can hear your parents heartily belting out to some 80’s pop song in the basement – it seems the karaoke session is going well.

“Figured its never too late to learn,” he shrugs, taking a sip of the drink and wincing because its piping hot. His voice has deepened now that the two of you are fourteen, sounding like it’s dipped in honey. “Plus, all my friends are going there, and I don’t wanna be that guy who knows no one at his high school on the first day.” You try to laugh along, but it comes out all awkward—you don’t want to admit that that’s going to be you at your new school. Taehyung eyes you suspiciously.

“But of course,” he continues, in that same airy tone. “I think it’d be cool to start over somewhere where no one knows you. A clean slate.” You smile privately at his tact.

“It’s nerve-wracking though. What if I don’t make friends?” you sound small as you voice out the one fear you’ve been too scared to admit. Taehyung hums and sips his tea again.

“You will,” he says easily. “But if you don’t you always have me and Jungkook. We’re practically forced to hang out with you.”

You throw your wet teabag at him. He laughs, the sound rich and deep and you find your mind cleared of your anxiety.

                                                      -2010-

“Ay here comes the Frenchie,” Jungkook wolf-whistles and you turn around to see Taehyung making his way toward you. “Are you fluent yet?”

“No, but I can tell you to fuck off in more than one language now,” Taehyung grins, giving you a one-armed hug in greeting. He smells like vanilla and clean laundry – a refreshing contrast from the boys at school that drown in Old Spice. You want to bury your nose in his sweatshirt.

“Wow, school fees well spent,” Jungkook nods sagely. “I can’t believe I’m the only middle-schooler left.” Taehyung is taking his seat in the chair next to you, your hand still grasped in his, much larger and warmer one. Taehyung has always been physical – not just with you, but with everyone. You’re all at a restaurant this time, celebrating the fact that Junghyun not only got into his dream university, but managed to survive without flunking his first semester. You don’t know why you had to squeeze into a dress for this occasion, but alright. You barely even know Junghyun – he doesn’t fraternize with his kid brother’s best friends. “Oy, here’s Jimin.” The two of you look up to see another boy making his way towards you. “My mom’s best friend’s kid,” Jungkook whispers to you two, rather like he’s divulging the nation’s greatest secrets.

Jimin sits down next to Jungkook and you mutter polite hellos at each other. As it turns out, he’s the same age as you and Taehyung.

“So, this is the kid’s end of the table, huh?” Taehyung murmurs in your ear and you laugh.

“Don’t complain – would you rather sit next to my dad and have him clap you on the back hard every minute?” Taehyung winces at that, clearly having multiple war flashbacks. Jimin stares at you two.

“So how do you all know each other?” has asks. Taehyung blinks.

“Oh me? I’ve known her—since when—? We were like twelve,” you nod. Has it really been that long? You’re sixteen now. “And I met Jungkook not long after, I think.”

“The three musketeers,” Jungkook cheers, raising his glass as if its not full of just orange juice. Jimin nods. Taehyung rolls his eyes

As the dinner progresses, you find out you like Jimin too. He’s friendly and before you know it, you have each other on Facebook. Jungkook proclaims that all of you need a way to keep in touch and that’s how you find yourself in a group chat with three noisy boys.

                                                         -2011-

“Uno motherfucker!” Jungkook dramatically throws down his second-last card onto the pile. You groan. How is this boy so ridiculously good at literally every game?

“Not so fast, Jeon,” Taehyung is next to you, wearing pajama bottoms with ducklings on them. Throwing down his only wild card, he’s changing the color of cards up. You laugh delightedly because thank-you-Tae-you-lifesaver. He gives you a hearty fist bump. Jimin is on your other side, and as always, the man is more action than words because he quietly puts down a +4 that has Jungkook screaming into his pillow.

You’re all cooped up in your bedroom. Taehyung’s parents have already told him he could stay over, and he’s promptly changed into his sleeping clothes. It isn’t a rare occurrence for him to crash in your guest bedroom every time your parents hang out late into the night. Jimin and Jungkook are still in their jeans getting more and more uncomfortable by the hour. It’s past midnight and the parents downstairs have no intention of ending the party any time soon.

“You should’ve just stayed over too,” Taehyung says, watching Jungkook trying to change his sitting position for the third time in the last twenty minutes.

“I live literally down the block,” Jungkook snaps. It’s true – Jungkook’s family had moved onto your street only last year. “I’ll sleep in my own bed thanks.”

“Besides, is Jooyoung okay with you staying over at another girl’s house?” Jimin mutters, picking up a card and frowning. “Won’t she have a fit?”

“Who?” you and Jungkook ask at the same time.

“His girlfriend,” Jimin giggles next to you, and Jungkook is practically yodeling. Taehyung’s ears go slightly red. You look at him in surprise.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” you tell him and his ears, if possible, go even redder.

“He’s been with her for a whole month,” Jimin proclaims proudly and you’re looking at Taehyung again because wow—that seems serious.

You have no expertise in dating. There’s a cute boy in your English class called Choi Seungcheol that you like to look at. He’s got a nice smile and really long eyelashes over eyes that look like they hold galaxies in them. One time, he lent you his dictionary and you almost melted into a puddle of goo. But Seungcheol runs with the popular kids, even though he’s always been sweet to you, and you’re still somewhat of a recluse. All of a sudden, Taehyung seems really grown up and faraway.

“She already knows,” Taehyung says testily, and gestures wildly at you, “Plus it’s not like the two of us are even remotely close enough for her to care too much.”

You find you’ve suddenly lost all interest in the card game.

                                                      -2012-

“Can’t believe you’re leaving us,” Jungkook pouts as he stares at you and Taehyung. “Can’t believe I only have Jimin from now on.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin quips. It’s your graduation party – the third graduation party you’ve attended in the last two weeks – Taehyung had his first, then Jimin, and now you. You’ve chosen a university that’s three hours away. Jimin chose to attend college in town.

Taehyung, surprising you all, is moving a whopping six hours away, across the country. The art program he’s chosen is super elite and you’d all had a potluck at his house with your families when he’d gotten accepted. You sip on your wine, still getting used to the taste of alcohol. You turned eighteen only last month, but Jimin and Taehyung are still minors, and are both sporting matching cups of sparkling apple juice.

“We’ll be back for the holidays,” you tell Jungkook. “I can even drive back on some weekends!”

“Yeah, but when our families hang out, I’ll be the only one there,” Jungkook continues, looking genuinely upset. “Gonna just stay home from now on.”

“What about me?” Jimin asks indignantly. “I’m still here!”

“You have, like, a billion friends,” Jungkook huffs. “And a girlfriend.”

“Good point.” Jimin agrees. You and Taehyung laugh.

“Well, we still have all summer,” you say. “The four of us should find some time to hang out before I move at the end of August.” Jimin nods at that, reaching forward to eat the chips off the plate in front of him.

The four of you look at each other. Your lives really don’t overlap outside the confines of your bedroom and while Jungkook is upset, you know he’s got his own horde of friends back at school. He’s on the football team, and in the multimedia club. Your best friend’s little sister goes to his school and you’ve heard through her that he’s basically the school’s heartthrob. A little hard for you to believe though – Jungkook will always be that small child who Taehyung tackled to the ground for trying to steal his phone back when you were twelve.

You look around your room. You only have around ninety days left in these four walls, in this particular life, before all of you move into the next chapter.

                                                         -2013-

You’re shut up in a bathroom stall at your dorm, tears threatening to spill. Your first year as an engineering undergraduate is almost over, but your mother’s voice over the phone has opened all the flood gates you’d been so carefully keeping close these past few months.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you’re bumbling, and your mother can hardly make sense of you. You know that it’s probably coming as a huge surprise to them. You’ve spent so long pretending you’ve been fine all year that your family hasn’t had a clue how rough things really had been for you. “I want to drop out, mom, my grades are so bad, I’m so close to flunking out.”

Your mother is comforting you over the phone, but you continue to sob, months and months of tears and anxiety finally getting their chance to flow freely. You don’t care if your dormmates hear you – they were never really your friends anyway.

Weeks later, when your parents have picked you up, and have driven you back home, you know you’ll never go back to that place. You lie in your bed staring up at the ceiling, feeling void of any emotion. You’d always done fairly well in school so the significant drop in your grades at university had taken a toll on your mental health. The sun shines outside, the first signs of summer peeking through, but you can’t bring yourself to push open your curtains. You feel like a failure. You are a failure.

At some point during the day, Taehyung comes into your room, knocking quietly. He doesn’t speak, and you haven’t seen him for a whole year. Contact was few and far between and seeing Jimin and Tae do so well in their respective programs had made you put up a front with them too. He probably had no idea that anything was ever wrong.

Even if he had, you tell yourself, there was nothing he would really do. You find you barely know Taehyung, are only obligated to spend time with him because your parents are friends with his folks. But he’s here, in your room now, and you can’t hear Mr. Kim’s booming voice downstairs. You selfishly wonder if he came to see you by himself. Only for you, and not because of his parents.

He quietly lies down next to you, and the two of you lie there, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

He stays like that until you finally fall asleep.

                                                          -2014-

You scream when you open the mail and Jimin jumps next to you, spilling milk all over the kitchen island.

“I got in!” you scream and Jimin blinks owlishly up at you. “Chim, I got in!”

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” Now Jimin is screaming, grabbing you out of joy and pulling you in. The two of you are jumping up and down in your kitchen and your parents are here wondering what the ruckus is. You’re merely shoving the letter towards them, too overjoyed to speak.

After taking the summer off, and pulling out of your old university, you’d applied to the college in your town – the same one Jimin attends. You figured you were better off in a program that genuinely excites you and come September, you and Jimin would be attending the same school.

“We gotta party,” your dad exclaims, a big grin on his face. You know your parents had partially blamed themselves for everything that had happened last year. For maybe forcing you towards a program you weren’t really interested in, only because the employment opportunities were higher, and you had the grades to get in. You’re pleased to see them so proud and happy for you. You’re in a better place now, have gotten the support you needed to help you get through that rough patch. Last year feels like a fever dream, like it belongs to someone else, someone that’s not you.

Your dad is calling the usual crowd up to celebrate, and you can’t wait to see Jungkook and Junghyun. It’s been months since you saw them last and you know Jungkook is a senior and is swamped with college admissions and his football games.

Taehyung doesn’t come home this year – working at an internship somewhere on the other end of the country that’s been keeping him busy. You don’t hear from him much at all.

                                                        -2015-

You gratefully accept the glass of wine from Jimin and glance over at the giant Christmas tree in his living room. The Parks have decorated it up to the nines, a real step-up from last year.

“Your ugly sweater is so not ugly,” Jimin groans from next to you, and you look down.  It’s a simple grey sweater with a giant ornament on it, the baubles are three-dimensional.

“It was the only one I had,” you sigh, leaning back into his couch. “Where is everyone?”

“Jungkook is spending Christmas at his girlfriend’s,” Jimin tells you and you roll your eyes. “But he says he’ll see us for New Years. Tae’s family just arrived actually – he’s in the kitchen saying hello to everyone.”

“Bet all the moms flocked to him,” you mutter. Taehyung is the group’s golden boy – the success story. He’d secured himself a fancy internship and was pretty much guaranteed a job straight out of university when he graduated in a couple years. Jimin nods sleepily next to you. You cozy up next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Taehyung arrives in the living room then, his eyes travelling from the giant Christmas tree to the two of you folded onto the couch. You wonder if you’ve had too much wine already because you’re definitely imagining the strange look that crosses his face when he sees Jimin lean into you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him in person – Instagram pictures really don’t do him justice. For some reason, Jimin quickly pulls away from your embrace.

He’s grown taller, and his hair is dyed a soft honey blonde falling into his eyes, a piece tucked behind one ear. He’s wearing a sweater that’s literally the same color as the Grinch but he manages to effortlessly pull it off. Taehyung has always been pretty, you tell yourself, but somehow, he’s managed to get even prettier. He’s half-tucked his ugly sweater into black slacks and looks more like a runway model than someone you’ve known since you were twelve.

He fist-bumps Jimin before collapsing into the couch on your other side.

“What’s the plan tonight Park?” he asks, taking a sip of his wine.

“I brought my poker kit,” Jimin says over your head. “Thought we could play.”

“Poker,” you sigh amusedly. “When only yesterday Jungkook was beating our asses at Uno.” Jimin laughs with his whole body and you giggle sleepily next to him.

“And, how are you?” It takes you a while to notice that Taehyung is talking to you. You straighten up, letting go of Jimin

“M’fine,” you murmur. Taehyung hums. There’s a strange sort of silence that befalls you. You and Taehyung never had a chatty relationship, but it was never like this either. Taehyung feels more and more like a stranger these days. You know facts about his childhood that you’re sure no one else does – the time he broke his arm falling off a bike you had dared him to get on, or the time he’d accidentally eaten a cookie with hazelnuts in it despite being allergic to them – but you don’t know this Taehyung. You don’t know the first thing about him. And it makes you sad.

The two of you make small talk – the weather, Taehyung’s internship, your finals – but it just doesn’t feel the same.

                                                          -2016-

It’s really been a whole year since you’ve seen any of these people – except Jimin, you see his ass on campus every damn day. The music is in full swing and your parents are laughing at something Taehyung’s mom is saying.

You’re sitting in a chair next to Jungkook, fresh off his first semester of university. His hair is longer, he’s inked up his right arm and smells like expensive cologne. Despite that, he’s still the lovable goofball you’ve known practically all your life. He lets you tease him about his ink, good-naturedly pulling at your cheek. He towers over you now, has for a few years.

Taehyung sits directly across from you. His hair is back to black, curling and long. He’s wearing thick black-framed glasses today, complaining about leaving his contacts back at university. Jimin isn’t here, having made plans with his dancer friends. It feels like every year, the only constant at these end-of-the-year parties, is you. The only one who makes a conscious effort to attend, who doesn’t treat these family gatherings like back-up plans.

“Jieun said she wants to meet you,” Jungkook is saying. He’s been dating this girl for six months now. “She’s gone home for the holidays, obviously, but maybe in the New Year. When do you go back Tae?”

“The twelfth,” Taehyung answers, mouth full of mashed potato.

“That’s later than usual,” you say in surprise. Taehyung shrugs.

“Didn’t come home for the summer, so figured I’d stay for winter break longer,” he answers, and you nod. You’re still on the “kids” end of the table, despite all of you now being full-grown adults. Some things really never change.

“Y’know we really should hang out,” Jungkook is saying. “I haven’t seen Jimin in two years – isn’t that crazy? Hey, remember when our parents would hang out and drag us with them. At least that meant we saw each other constantly. Now that we have our own lives, I don’t even go when our families hang out.”

You ruffle Jungkook’s hair and he gives you an adoring smile.

“I miss you guys,” he pouts, and something warm floods through you.

“I miss you guys too,” you answer, a little melancholy, a little sad, and Jungkook gives you a dopey grin, completely clueless. But Taehyung doesn’t return your smile, only surveying you quietly through his glasses.

                                                         -2017-

Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung said they weren’t going to attend this year’s annual New Year’s bash. You can’t say you aren’t crestfallen at the news. It’s clear they all have lives outside their family. Taehyung and Jimin have graduated already. Taehyung doesn’t have enough time off to come home, and Jimin has plans with some guy he’s been seeing lately. Jungkook is going home with Jieun this year to meet her family.

You make plans with your friends from college, and the four of you end up at a bar. It’s fun – you sing karaoke and drink copious amounts of alcohol. You even makeout with strangers.

But somewhere deep down, you know you rather be sitting at the kids end of the table, stuffing your face with food.

                                                          -2018-

Taehyung hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked into his house. You’re wearing a dress and some heels because Jimin insisted that the four of you dress up for the occasion, considering you hadn’t been able to get together last year. It’s been a while since the gang was back in town at the same time, and you’d just graduated and secured a decent job right away. Jimin claimed it was a cause to celebrate.

The four of you are at the usual family party this winter, because where else would you be?

Taehyung is very obviously drunk. He isn’t rowdy like Jimin or Jungkook, but you can tell. He sways faintly to the music and his eyes are dark.

At the end of the night Jimin goes home to his boyfriend, and Jungkook to his girlfriend, leaving you and Taehyung to clean up the messes they leave behind. Your parents have long gone home, no longer caring if you stay a little longer, or stay over. Taehyung’s family is practically your family.

You eye him subtly as you’re putting away the board games – his hands are in the pockets of his burgundy trousers. A cream dress shirt is tucked into his pants. As always, he looks good. Taehyung suddenly turns to look at you and you feel your face go warm at his stare.

Before you know it, he’s reaching over to kiss you, large hand cupping your face, head tilting so he can slot himself better against your lips. Your hand grasps at the front of his shirt as you pull him closer and you don’t hesitate to intertwine your free hands.

He wordlessly pulls you towards his bedroom in the basement, careful not to wake his parents. He pushes you down on his bed before climbing on top of you to continue where you’d left off in the living room.

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, naked and satisfied.

                                                          -2019-

Kim Seokjin whispers in a terrible joke in your ear, making you giggle. He’s your date for the night – but the two of you aren’t actually dating. Seokjin was a friend from college, albeit your senior, but you’d asked him to accompany you to this year’s New Year’s party and by some miracle he’d said yes.

You know Jin doesn’t think about you in that way – you’re at most like a baby sister to him – but he plays his part and holds your hand and sits next to you and brings you refills whenever he sees your drink is running low. A part of you thinks he knows what the deal is, if the soft way he looks at you is any indication. You owe Jin a big one.

You didn’t want to be the only one in the group without a date. Jimin has brought Min Yoongi, his boyfriend of two years and Jieun is here with Jungkook.

And then there’s the pretty girl on Taehyung’s arm.

You bite your lip. After spending that one night together last year, you and Taehyung had woken up with smiles on your faces. It had been a happy moment, until you’d had to sneak out of his house without his parents noticing. He’d laughed, kissed you on the lips and you’d left. When you’d seen him next, you’d been with Jimin, Jungkook, and all your families. The two of you had shared secret smiles but hadn’t got a moment to yourselves and before you knew it, Taehyung had had to head back across the country – back to his life without you in it.

You hadn’t even gotten a chance to discuss whatever had happened between you, and you didn’t think it would be appropriate to discuss over the phone. You’d carried on talking to him like normal, assuming that you’d discuss this whenever he came back home next, and he never brought it up either. You hadn’t realized then that Taehyung only ever came home once a year – for Christmas.

Your heart sinks now, watching as he leans in quietly to talk to her over the loud bass of whatever rap beat Yoongi has chosen. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your college friends, about what had happened. You feel used – that whatever the two of you had, was maybe just a drunken one-night stand. But it hadn’t felt like that to you. It had felt… right. Like the conclusion to something that had been building up for many years now. But looking back, maybe it’s just you that thinks that.

Taehyung has never shown any interest in you in that manner, and you’ve known him for years. He’s dated in that time – even had relationships (Jooyoung from high school comes to mind, and you rack your brain trying to think of other serious girlfriends, but you only come up with girls he’s mentioned once or twice and then never again). Jimin already lives with Yoongi and Jungkook and Jieun are discussing moving in together. In your little group, only you and Taehyung have no strings when it comes to relationships.

You’ve dated too – of course – but never seriously. Your longest relationship lasted three months.

“Is he the one?” Seokjin leans over to ask you in a low voice. You turn to look at him nestled comfortably on the couch next to you, long limbs spread out. “The one you like?”

“Like...huh?” you take a large gulp of your wine. “I’ve never thought about him that way.”

“Then pray tell me why your face has longing written all over it?” Seokjin is astute.

“Thanks for coming today,” you say instead. Jin smiles lazily, long lashes casting shadows on his elegant cheekbones.

“I’ll even peck you on the lips at midnight if you want me to,” he says cheekily, and you slap his face away laughing.

“Aren’t you two adorable!” Jimin collapses on the couch next to Jin and offers him a friendly fist bump. Jimin knows Jin isn’t your boyfriend but is smart enough to not say anything.

“Are we?” Jin grins, throwing his arm around your neck to pull you towards him, your cheeks smushing together. “You hear that babe?”

“Oof,” you groan against him and he lets go of you to stand up. Motioning towards the bathroom, he flashes one of his infamous grins before making his way through the living room. Jimin slides over towards you, neatly taking your drink from your hand before taking a sip.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

“His parents called, he’s talking to them out on the deck,” Jimin looks at you. You look at him and raise your eyebrows. “You okay?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I dunno, you always get this look on your face when you’re not,” he hums, sipping your wine again. “How long do you think I’ve known you?” You roll your eyes. You’re eyeing Taehyung again. He came to the party late and hadn’t as much as introduced his lady friend to you. He hadn’t even looked at you. Was this how your friendship with Taehyung was going to end?

“Who’s the girl?” you can’t help but ask, jutting your chin in the direction of the pair. A knowing look crosses Jimin’s features.

“Yoona something,” he says. “They work together, I think. Her flight home got cancelled so Tae brought her back here.” Jimin looks at you again. “They’re not dating – if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Fucking, then.”

“Well, probably,” Jimin laughs. “It’s Taehyung,” Of course. It’s Taehyung. You huff sarcastically. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” You groan. What is with your friends today. “When will you admit it to yourself?”

“Admit what?”

Jimin gives out a short laugh and stands up.

“You’re both so painfully alike, I’m going to get frustrated,” he mutters, half under his breath. You tilt your head curiously at his wording, but he doesn’t elaborate. “One is horrible with making a move and the other too dense to realize what’s staring at them in their face.” You watch Jimin head off, muttering to himself and shake your head.

When Jin returns with another bad joke about the toilet and pinches your cheek adoringly, taking up his spot next to you on the couch, you’re far too busy laughing to notice the way Taehyung’s eyes flash across the room.

                                                    -The Present-

“Tae’s coming home this year, isn’t he?” you mother casually asks. You’re in the middle of putting the cakes in the oven and you pause.

“Is he? I haven’t asked,” you answer, schooling your voice carefully.

“His mother mentioned that he doesn’t seem too happy lately,” you mom continues on from the other end of the kitchen. “They want him to move back here, or somewhere closer to here.”

“Good luck with that,” you snort. There’s three feet of snow that arrived last night and you’re not looking forward to shoveling it all by yourself. You haven’t seen Taehyung properly since the two of you had… fooled around some two years ago. Whatever idea you’d entertained about the two of you after that, it had all just been clearly in your head. Taehyung was barely home long enough for you to hang out as a group and if the rumors amongst the parents were anything to go by, you weren’t surprised he wanted to avoid the gossiping small town feel of this place.

Frankly, you’re dreading seeing Taehyung this year. This year’s party is definitely more exclusive than last year’s. It’ll just be the four of you this year. Like the old days. And Jieun and Yoongi, but you’ve known those two for years now.

“He’s such a good-looking boy,” Oh god, your mother is still talking. “I’m surprised he hasn’t thought about settling down yet. Of course, how can he think about settling down without a stable career first – freelance photography was it?”

“Mom, it’s none of our business,” you mutter.

“Oh, I know,” she says quickly. “But I’d always thought he’d go places, you know? He did so well at one of the country’s best universities, got that amazing job right after. And now what? He quit it after all this time and that Jimin who only did community college is earning twice the amount Tae is!”

“Mom!” you snap. “Let. It. Go.” Your mother stares at you in disbelief, closing her mouth quickly, and thankfully shutting up. “I’m gonna go shovel the driveway,” you mutter, taking your apron off, and shoving it onto its usual hook by the pantry.

You’re just opening up the garage and grabbing the big purple shovel when you see Jungkook floundering through the snow towards your house.

“When did you get home?” You ask, forgetting about your mother for a second.

“Two days ago—look,” Jungkook’s face is serious. “We need to throw Taehyung a totally bitchin’ birthday party.”

“What?! Why?” You begin shoveling while Jungkook stands there. You’ve never thrown Taehyung a party before – usually that goes hand in hand with the annual New Year’s Eve bash and the two are celebrated together, even though Tae’s birthday is the day before.

“Because he’s been weird ever since he came home – he never says anything, but I know, alright?”

“What? He’s back?” You stop shoveling and stare at the younger man.

“He didn’t tell you?” Jungkook asks, after hesitating. You bite your lip. You’ve always been the first to know whenever Taehyung decides to visit. “Is everything okay?” You sigh.

“Yes… I don’t know… probably not,” you groan. Jungkook blinks down at you, utterly clueless. “We…fooled around, alright?”

“When?!” Jungkook’s voice has gone up three octaves. “Oh, holy fuck.”

“Two years ago,” you hiss, motioning him to pipe down. “After that party at his house. We never spoke about it and I just assumed he wanted an easy fuck.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jungkook says and you wonder at his wording. “A blind idiot.”

“What?” you’re so confused. Jimin had mumbled something similar last year. Jungkook shakes his head, bits of snow falling off his beanie.

“Aside from that, I think the dude is just going through an overall rough time,” he says. “And no, it’s not because you two fucked. You in?”

“What—yeah fine,” you give in.

“Cool – then my house on the 30th. Bring your own booze. Wear something cute but comfortable.”

“Who else is coming?” You yell after him, watching Jungkook shuffling back down the street. He turns to look at you questioningly.

“It’s just us,” he says, surprise evident in his voice. “Who else?”

“Right.” You say, sighing inwardly.

That night, you run straight into Taehyung outside Jungkook’s door.

“Uh,” you say, wincing at yourself for sounding so horribly awkward. Taehyung stands in front of you, readying himself to knock on. You’d hoped to avoid him for a little bit longer but here you were, running into him right as you arrive. You grip your bottle of Merlot tightly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says back, raising an eyebrow at you. Taehyung is intimidating – has always been. You vaguely remember a time when he didn’t scare you, when you were both young and Taehyung was this small scrawny kid with big eyes and a mop of hair. “How’ve you been?” He towers over you now, all broad shoulders and long legs. 

“Good,” you clear your throat. “You?” A ghost of a smile flits across his features.

“I’m sure you’ve already heard,” he says, almost bitterly.

“That you quit your fancy job? Yeah, I heard.” Maybe it’s your offhanded tone that throws him off but he’s gawking down at you before chuckling to himself. “What?”

“Nothing,” his face breaks into a bigger smile. “Should’ve known that you of all people wouldn’t give a shit if I quit my job or not,” You’re rushing to correct him that that was not how you intended to come off but he’s grinning, raising a hand to stop you. “No, it’s a good thing. I’m sick of people pitying me for something that was so obviously the correct decision.”

“Pity, huh?” you grin back at that. “Do they give you the sad head-tilt too?” You tilt your head mockingly to the side to demonstrate.

“Oh my god yes,” he snorts. “I’ve been getting those all week.”

“Welcome to the world of failures Kim,” you grin, holding out your hand in an honorary handshake. “We hate it here, but at least the expectations are now at a rock bottom. You can only go up from here.” Taehyung is about to reach for your hand when the door opens.

“Can you two quit flirting out here and come in?” Jungkook is indignant, holding a bottle of beer in each hand. Taehyung gives you a look you can’t quite decipher before heading in. You follow in after him, setting your wine down on Jungkook’s kitchen island. His apartment is small – only one bedroom – but it’s so Jungkook that you smile.

You hug Jieun as she comes out of their shared bedroom before moving on to join Jimin in the kitchen. Jieun is hugging Taehyung, wishing him a Happy Birthday. You watch them as you open your wine and reach for a glass from one of Jungkook’s cabinets.

“Not drinking tonight?” you ask Jimin. He’s dyed his hair blonde and it curls slightly. You think you like this look on him.

“I drove here,” he says easily. “What about you?”

“I’ll figure it out,” you grin. Taehyung comes up to dump the cheesecake you hadn’t noticed he’d been holding earlier on the counter. “Want me to put that in the fridge?” You address him.

“Yes please,”

“Not drinking tonight Tae?” Jimin throws your question at the dark-haired boy, as you shove the cake into Jungkook’s fridge. Taehyung’s eyes quickly glance at you before he speaks up

“I drove here,” he mutters and Jimin snorts.

“It’s your birthday party and you’re gonna stay stone cold sober? That’s sad man. Not to mention you brought your own cake,” he says, chin resting on his hand as he leans on the counter. Taehyung shrugs.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you ask and Jimin motions towards the living room where Jungkook and Yoongi are deeply immersed in what looks like Super Smash Bros Brawl. Judging by the way Yoongi is yelling, you assume he’s already tipsy. Taehyung comes up behind the counter to stand next to you to observe their game. You’re only faintly wary of his presence next to you as you sip on your drink. You don’t even realize Jimin has left the two of you to yourselves to go join Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Why’d you quit?” you ask, still staring at the TV. If Taehyung is surprised at your question, he doesn’t show it. “Your job, I mean.”

“It’s not what I went to school for,” he answers, hands in his pockets. “It became less about the art and more about kissing the asses of big corporations so they would fund us. I took the job because it paid well but at what cost?”

“Yeah, I understand,” you say softly. Taehyung looks at you.

“I know you do,” He says after a while, and your heart blooms at the honest faith in his voice. “My parents are disappointed. They don’t say it out loud, but I know they are. They think I’m going through something when the truth is that I know exactly what I want to do.”

“And that is?” you’re looking at him now and things suddenly fall into place. It’s as though the last few years never happened, that there was never a distance between the two of you. It reminds you of a different time – a time when you and Taehyung would tell each other everything even if you didn’t see him every day.

“Photography,” he answers. “My own studio. Maybe even sell my work – I don’t know. Just me, and art.” You smile.

“That sounds nice,” you say. “You know, Jungkook threw this party thinking you’re going through a quarter-life crisis,” Taehyung snorts at that and you can’t help but giggle along. “I wanted to tell him that he was crazy, but I didn’t have the heart to.” Taehyung is looking at you, questions evident on his face. “Call me crazy, I don’t know, but there has never been a day where you’ve been lost in your life. You’ve always known what you want, and you’ve made sure you get it,” You look down at your wine. The words unlike me are at the tip of your tongue but you don’t voice them. You know what—who you want, but you’re a coward.

You weren’t lying. Taehyung had always been ambitious – a go-getter. If he wanted you, he would’ve made it clear. The realization is heart-breaking.

Taehyung doesn’t reply to your statement, and only hums in response.

The night gets rowdier after that – Jungkook and Yoongi are a deadly combination when drunk and you’ve made it through your bottle of wine by yourself so you’re not doing too badly either.

Jimin and Yoongi leave first – Jimin basically dragging the older boy out. You’re scrolling through the train schedule when you notice Taehyung come up to you.

“I’ll drop you off,” he says. “You’re on the way to my parents house anyway.” You can only nod at that before he’s helping you stand up. The two of you bid a goodbye to Jieun (Jungkook has long since been put to bed and she’s collecting the myriad of beer bottles for recycling), and before you know it, you’re comfortably seated in Taehyung’s car.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to your place,” he says at last, sounding only slightly guilty. You laugh and tell him your address and watch as he plugs it into the car’s GPS system. You had moved out only last year, finally in a place to be able to afford. The two of you drive in silence, with you watching Taehyung.

He’s wearing a dark button down, tucked into equally dark jeans, hair falling over his forehead. Rings adorn his fingers that are gripping the steering wheel, and you swallow as you eye his thighs in those pants.

The wine was a bad idea.

“Something on my face?” he asks lightly, eyes still on the road. You start in your seat. The wine has lowered your inhibitions considerably.

“No, just admiring how pretty you are,” you say and Taehyung chokes on air. “Did you know you’re pretty? You always have been,”

“Is that so?” There’s a wry smile on Taehyung’s face. You prop your elbow up on his window, chin resting in your hand as you look outside.

“Yeah, since the fucking beginning,” you snort. “Even when you were scrawny and twelve, you were this pretty little thing. Next to you I looked like a drowned rat.”

Taehyung scoffs, running one hand through his hair, pushing it back.

“The day you wake up and realize your self-worth,” he mutters. “You’re far too intelligent and beautiful to belittle yourself like this,” You freeze and turn to look at him. “What? I’m telling you a truth. Stop undermining yourself – you’ve done it all your life.”

“Do you want me to pull up photos from that one trip our families took in 2010? Your puberty kicked in and turned you into a teenage model. My puberty kicked in and I looked like Phineas and Ferb’s long lost sibling.”

“Chat shit all you want, but Jungkook and I spent that trip sneaking glances of you in that bathing suit.”

“You two did what?”

“And I told Jungkook to back off,” Taehyung says it so easily. He pulls up in front of your building and turns off the car. The two of you sit there in silence. “Do you know how hard it is for me to control myself around you?”

You’re dimly aware that Taehyung hasn’t had a single sip of alcohol tonight – that he’s completely himself.

“Then why are you controlling yourself?” you whisper. Taehyung gives you another one of his wry smiles, this one rather sad.

“Because you’ve never seen me the way I’ve seen you,” he says, voice just as hushed. “And for a while, I didn’t mind. It was just a little crush – and I only saw you once or twice in a year so how could it mean anything? I had an entire life outside of you that you weren’t even a part of. So how could any of this be real?” He pauses, and you wait for him to continue.

“But then… That Night happened,” and you know what he’s talking about. “And I thought ‘finally’ and once I’d had a taste, I wanted to keep coming back for more.” He looks up at you now, eyes distant. “And because you never brought it up again, I just thought that it didn’t mean anything—”

“Wait,” you interrupt him, heart racing so fast you can hear it thrum through your ears. “I thought you wanted nothing more.”

“Why would you ever think that?” he whispers. “When I never heard from you, I tried to move on—I had to move on, y’know? And this year I told myself that when I saw you, I’d be content with being your friend. I know I’ve been distant these past few years, but I needed that time to pick myself up—it was too hard to see you and know nothing could come of it.”

“Wait wait wait,” you wave your hands in front of your face, eyes tightly shut. “B-but you never mentioned that night again! I-I just assumed it was a one-night thing!” Taehyung blinks.

“A guy would have to be completely blind to only want you for one night,” he says quietly, and your heart soars. He’s reaching over for you and you shyly intertwine your fingers with his.

“You’re going to have to spell it out for me,” you whisper, tracing patterns on the back of his hand with your thumb. “Because I’m stupid and I won’t believe it until I’ve heard it—”

But Taehyung is reaching over to your seat and pressing his lips to yours. You’ve missed this taste and you reciprocate almost instantly. He tastes like the strawberries that were topped on his birthday cake and you lean into the kiss, sighing in pleasure.

Before you know it, he’s undoing your seatbelt and pulling you over to his side. It’s uncomfortable and you almost ram your head against the rear-view mirror, but eventually you find yourself comfortably straddling his lap, back to the steering wheel. Taehyung’s large hands span the width of your back as he holds you in place.

“I think I like you,” he says. You smile down at him, running a hand along his cheekbone, jaw, finally resting it on his shoulder.

“I think I like you too,” you say back. You lean down to capture his lips in yours one more time and this time he doesn’t hesitate in sliding his tongue into your mouth. You grasp at his shirt on his shoulders, while his hands travel down to rest on your thighs where they travel under the flowy dress you’re wearing, moving over your thighs and finally resting on your ass. You whimper into the kiss and Taehyung doesn’t miss the opportunity to explore more of your mouth.

It’s when you let yourself sit down on his lap completely that you feel it – the hardness in his pants. You gasp before straightening up, but he pushes you back down onto his crotch. You pull away from the kiss, lips swollen.

“T-Tae!” you’re gripping his shirt almost painfully right and he smirks up at you.

“See what you do to me?” he whispers. “We’ve barely done anything except swap spit and I’m already so hard it hurts.” Your ears go warm at his dirty words and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. You squirm on top of him and he groans in pleasure. “Any more of you moving that cute little ass on top of me and I’m going to cream my pants right here and right now.”

His lips latch onto your exposed collarbone where the strap of your dress has slid off and he sucks a bruise there. Your hips are swirling on top of him of their own volition and Taehyung has to throw back his head to let out a deep moan of pleasure. You stare at him in wonder – he looks so beautiful like this, dark hair clinging to his forehead, eyes blown out, lips swollen – and at your complete mercy. You kiss up his neck, biting his earlobe, before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’m soaked,” you say, blushing. Your hand reaches down to tease your clit and you whimper before bringing your slick fingers up to show him. “See?”

Like a man starved, Taehyung is wordlessly reaching over to take your fingers into his mouth, and you watch in awe as his tongue swirls around them, licking up your juices instantly. His gaze doesn’t leave you for even a second and you’re so mesmerized. When you kiss him again, you taste yourself on him.

“You’re gonna have to stop here,” he puts a hand on your thigh to halt your ministrations. “I’ll seriously cream my pants.”

“I’m okay with that,” you mutter, leaning in to kiss him again, but he pulls back, a sly smile on his face.

“No, I’d much rather cream your pussy,” his grin is so wolfish that you feel a new wave of juices flow through you.

“Lucky for us we’re at my place though isn’t it,” you smile against his mouth. He laughs, a low, comforting sound before opening the door. You climb off him and out onto the sidewalk and straighten your dress. Taehyung gets off after you, hair mussed (thanks to you), and shirt half unbuttoned (also thanks to you). He reaches for your hand, which you take with a smile. This time, there is no hesitation, no hidden meaning.

                             -Sometime in the (not-so) distant future-

“Will you hurry up?” You hiss at Jungkook, but he’s too busy brushing his hair to pay any attention to you. “We’re so gonna be late!”

“You’re trampling on my mojo,” Jungkook tells you, straightening his tie and staring at himself in the mirror. Taehyung is next to you, tapping his foot in impatience.

“Okay, Jeon, that’s enough, you are not going to be late for your own wedding.” He says, face impassive and Jungkook sighs.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll be right out – you two go take your positions. Tae – you got the rings?” Taehyung rolls his eyes and pats his front coat pocket pointedly. Jungkook grins, face guilty and Taehyung is opening his mouth, probably to tell Jungkook off once and for all.

You laugh, knowing this is your cue to interrupt the fight before it actually happens, and pull Taehyung away from his best friend and push him out of Jungkook’s dressing room.

“Let’s go – if he’s late that’s on him but I don’t want us to be late either and you’re in the wedding you need to be up there.” You push Taehyung towards the main church towards the altar.

“God,” Taehyung is grumbling. “Promise me, our day won’t be so anxiety inducing.”

“How can it be when you’re such a micromanager,” you smile. “I expect our day to run like a German train schedule.” Taehyung rolls his eyes and glances at a dainty ring on your left hand. He does that often, as if to reassure himself that this is the reality, that you’re here and present and beside him. It makes you unbearably fond. Because even now, years later, Kim Taehyung still can’t believe he has you.

“Honestly, we could do it at city hall and I wouldn’t mind,” Taehyung hums. “Without all these clowns present.”

“Fine,” you play along. “Wanna go this weekend?” You’re not expecting the raised eyebrow he gives you, or the coy answer that follows – but it does make your heart race in a way only Kim Taehyung has ever been capable of.

[thiswasinevitableid]

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

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

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

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

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

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

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

[lillywillow]

Papa Bird

Summary: When Sam’s oldest daughter is chosen to represent her dojo in a state-wide taekwondo championship for her age group, she requests that her mother take her to the fight, leaving Sam home to take care of his youngest daughter

 Word Count:1871

 Square Filled: Next Generation Fic

 Pairings: Sam Wilson x Female Reader

 Warnings: Fluff, breaking objects, protective/ proud father

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

That morning, Sam was busy helping his wife prepare their daughter for her upcoming tournament. He was kind of sulking that Darlene wouldn’t let him come with her.

 “Remind me why I can’t go again...”

 “Daddy, I love you but sometimes you can be a little bit... extra. Remember when I won the finals?”

 “Can’t a father be proud of his daughter?”

 “You can be proud but you celebrated so loud, they had to escort you out the dojo... Oh! And remember when I lost that spelling bee final? You threatened to beat up the judge...”

 “Hey, you and I both know they were cheating,” he countered.

 “Daddy...”

 “Sam, you know your daughter has a point. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to spend some time with Amelia,” Y/N stated, pointing to the small girl who was happily enjoying her Cheerios. Sam smiled and kissed her head.

 “You wanna hang out with daddy today, kiddo?” Amelia nodded and offered him some of her Cheerios which he took making her give a cheeky grin.

  Sam couldn’t help but smile in return before helping Darlene get her stuff ready to go.

Once Amelia was done eating and the breakfast stuff had been cleaned up, Sam went to say goodbye to Darlene and his Y/N.

 “Say, bye, mama.”

 “Bye, mama,” Amelia cooed, opening and closing her small hand in a wave.

 “Bye, Darlene. You go out there and kick some major a-butt,” Sam caught himself before he swore in front of Amelia and after seeing the reproachful look from his wife. Darlene grinned at her father and got in the car.

 Sam watched with Amelia as they pulled out down the drive.

 “What do you want to do now, pumpkin?”

 “Red Wing?”

 “You wanna play with Red Wing? Okay, let’s go play with Red Wing...”

 A few moments later, Sam was controlling the drone while Amelia gleefully chased after it, squealing in delight. He got a little carried away and accidently knocked a vase from its perch and shattering on the floor as a quasi-violent reminder as to why he was not to use the drone inside the house. This time, Sam did let out an expletive.

 “I tell mama!”

 “No, no, no! Don’t tell your mother! Here, let’s get you a cookie. Do you want a cookie?”

 Sam ran to get a cookie for Amelia which bought him a few moments of silence as he cleaned up the broken fragments of the vase.

 “Okay, let’s go to the park instead. You wanna walk to the park?”

 “Yeah! Park!” Sam smiled at her and went to prepare her little outing bag.

...

 At the park, Sam watched Amelia run around playing and giving him a rest for a while.

 “Hey, man...” Sam looked up to see Clint standing there, coffee cup in one hand and Lucky’s leash in the other.

 “Hey, Clint. What are you doing here?”

 “Taking Lucky for a walk... and your missus wanted us to check on you,” Clint replied, getting his phone and showing Sam the group message and sitting next to him. Sam grumbled a bit.

 “She just wants to make sure you’re not driving yourself crazy... So, Darlene has a tournament today, huh?”

 “Yeah... I am so proud of that girl. She’s already got her red belt and almost up to her next...” Before Clint could respond, a shrill scream filled the air. The two heroes jumped to their feet in preparation for danger only to see Amelia tearing across the yard.

 “Doggy! Doggy, doggy, doggy!” Amelia was so excited to see Lucky.

 “Amelia, what do you say?”

 “I pat doggy? Pwease?” Amelia looked up at Clint with her big brown eyes and melting his heart.

 “Yeah, you can pat Lucky,” he smiled. Amelia threw her arms around the dog’s neck and snuggled him. Lucky licked her head in return.

 Clint let Lucky off his leash so he could go off to play with Amelia.

 “That girl’s gonna be the death of me,” Sam sighed and sat back down. Clint laughed and sat back down next to him.

 “Takes after you...”

 “I know and that’s the bit that scares me...”

 The two men continued talking and catching up when they were suddenly alerted Lucky’s frantic barking. They looked up to see Amelia had climbed up a high piece of playground equipment and was about to jump down to a lower platform. To the older and bigger kids, the jump may have not been so bad but to a child as small as Amelia, it could be disastrous.

 “Amelia! Get down from there right this instant!” Sam bellowed, getting up to stomp over to her.

 Amelia gave her father a sidewise glance before deciding she was going to make that jump anyway. Sam managed to get there in time just as her feet launched from the surface, catching her midair.

 “Again, again!” she cheered.

 “No, no more,” Sam breathed, walking back to Clint. “I think we’re going to go home for lunch. Besides, one of us needs a change of diaper.”

 “Not me! I big girl! I use potty!” Amelia stated as a matter of factly.

 “Right, just daddy then...” Clint laughed and called Lucky over to him.

 “Listen, you won’t tell her mother about that little incident, will you?”

 “Hey man, I won’t bring it up but if she asks, I’m not gonna lie,” he grinned.

 “Great thanks,” he grumbled. “Anyway, see you later.” Clint said goodbye and headed off as Sam packed up Amelia’s things.

 “Daddy mad?” Amelia asked her little lip stuck out in a pout.

 “No, daddy’s not mad. You scared daddy.”

 “I sowwy.”

 “It’s okay, baby girl. What do you want for lunch?”

 “PB ‘n J sammich?”

 “A peanut butter and jelly sandwich? I think that can be arranged.”

...

 After lunch, Sam put Amelia down for a nap which gave him the chance to complete a few chores without being interrupted by an enthusiastic three year old. He never thought he’d be suited to the quiet domestic lifestyle but he settled into it reasonable well. One thing Sam could never say was that it was dull. His daughters always kept him on his toes. When Darlene was Amelia’s age, she was just as mischievous and spirited. Sam wouldn’t trade his girls for the world.

 An hour had passed by the time Amelia woke up from her nap and wandered out into the living room and by now, Sam was watching some trashy day time TV.

 “Hey, Milly. Did you have a good sleep?” Amelia nodded, climbing up onto his lap and cuddling close to her father’s chest.

 “Daddy, I hungwy.”

 “You’re hungry? Let’s see what we can do about that. You want some... frog’s legs and wine? No? I thought all kids liked that stuff. How about some coffee and caviar? Not that either? What about...” Sam continued listing ridiculous food/ drink combinations that he knew a child wouldn’t eat as he made his way to the kitchen with her.

 “Cheese! I want cheese!” she blurted out before he could get out the next combo.

 “Oh, you want cheese... Should have guessed, huh? Let’s see if we have some,” he said, going to the pantry.

 “Hmm... well, it doesn’t look like we have any. Guess you’ll have to have broccoli and green tea after all.”

 “Daddy,” Amelia whined, pointing to the big bag of string cheese, her face visibly pained.

 “Look at that. We do have some after all. Guess you’ll want a juice box with that?” Sam laughed at the eager way she nodded her head.

 Once Amelia had finished her snack, Sam went back into the living room and changed the channel to the one that was locally streaming the tournament. Darlene’s division wasn’t yet up but it was coming soon. As he watched, Amelia got up and wobbled in front of the TV, ‘punching’ and ‘kicking’ like the big kids. Sam smiled and took a video of it to send to his family and friends later. He was sure that they were getting a little annoyed with the amount he could send in one day but he didn’t care. Sam loved each and every one of his girls’ achievements no matter how big or small.

 Finally, Darlene’s age group was up. Sam watched as she stepped up to the mat. From his seat at home, he was cheering her on as if he was there. Amelia cheered too, not entirely sure why but daddy was happy so it had to be good.

 Round after round Darlene won until it got to the last round. Darlene’s opponent was a girl much taller and bigger than her. Sam was on the edge of his seat as the match commenced. The girl was good but Darlene was better. It lasted a little longer than the others but in the end, Darlene won. Sam jumped up with a loud cheer.

 “Yes! She won! Darlene won!”

 “Yay!” Sam picked up Amelia and spun around with her. “Sissy won!”

 Sam felt his eyes tear up a bit as pride swelled in his chest. He quickly wiped them away and continued celebrating with Amelia. Sam couldn’t wait for Darlene to come home.

...

 Later that night, Sam had just given Amelia her bath and was putting her to bed when he heard the sounds of the front door.

 “I think mama and your big sister are finally home,” he smiled.

 “Yay!” Amelia ran to meet them, her little legs going as fast as they possibly carry her.

 Darlene scooped her up as soon she got close enough.

 “Hey there, baby sis!”

 “Sissy! Sissy! I saw’d you won! Watch me! Watch me!” Darlene put Amelia back on the ground so she could show her some of the ‘moves’ she had learned earlier in the day which included an attempt at a headstand for some reason.

 “Oh, wow! So good!”

 In the meantime, Y/N walked over to Sam, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him. Sam smiled against her lips.

 “Hey, handsome. Had a good day?” she smiled.

 “Pretty good. We went to the park this morning, came home for lunch, Amelia had her nap, then we watched Darlene kick some butt,” he grinned.

 “I see... you want to tell me why the vase in the hallway is no longer there?”

 “I would very much not like to...” Y/N could help but chuckle and shake her head. She looked over at the girls who were happily playing together.

 “We made some pretty awesome kids, Mr. Wilson,” she smiled.

 “We sure did, Mrs. Wilson,” he smiled back.

 For Sam, every day with his daughters was a new adventure as he watched them become the amazing people they were growing into. Sam loved every second of fatherhood and he couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow’s venture would bring.

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho” 

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely. 

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse? 

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.” 

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey 

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder? 

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich 

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising 

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is  an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00* 

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in? 

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this  to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer. 

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again 

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?  

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂ 

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings 

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: All Eyes On You {One-Shot}***

Lewis Tan x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK!!

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Hmmmm, Naaaaah!  🙃

Note: You all have Brandie, @night-of-the-living-shred​ to thank for this oh and Lewis’ thirst trappin’ ass.

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Mildly Interactive***

 You couldn’t believe it had been three months. Three freaking months since you’d physically been able to touch him. Three months since you’d felt his fingertips graze your skin. Three months since you’d felt his lips on yours. Three months since you’d tasted the delicate mix of sea salt, vanilla, and spice, that was his skin. Three months since you’d felt his arms around you as you came awake every morning. Three months since you’d smelled him. Three months too long.

You loved that he had a career he enjoyed and took pride in. Loved that this career was finally beginning to show him the same love and attention he’d shown it for years, but that also meant you spent a lot more time without him in your bed and a lot more time being your own company and best friend, outside of the company and friends you had. It was often lonely, but you’d been together for almost two years now and had developed a working regiment that combated the loneliness.

 Staring at the message exchange between you and Lewis had your belly filling with butterflies all over again.

 MSG My Heart: Guess who’s coming home a whole week early?

MSG: Don’t play with me, Lewis.

MSG My Heart: I don’t play about coming home to my queen.

MSG: Oh my god. Really? Babe? When? Oh my god.

MSG My Heart: LOL. I love that you’re so excited.

MSG: You’re kidding. Do you know how long it’s been?

MSG My Heart: Three months, fourteen days, ten hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty seconds. I know just how long it’s been.

MSG: Melt my heart.

MSG My Heart: That’s not all I plan on melting.

 The row of emojis was what sent you to the grave. You were practically still quivering from anticipation, and this was yesterday.

 “All finished.”

 You sat up and thanked Lucy, your wax lady who’d just made you a completely smooth again. When Lewis was away, you kept things tidy, but there was no need to get all extravagant. Today, you went all out, and that included a little surprise below the belt.

 “Thank you, Lucy. Same card on file, please.”

 “You got the full special. Does this mean boyfriend is back in town?”

 You giggled. It was a shame she knew the drill. As she ran your credit card, you endured her teasing and salacious suggestions on how to properly welcome Lewis home so he wouldn’t dare think of leaving again. By the time you walked out of the salon, your face was red hot from embarrassment. As you got into your car, you ran down the to-do list you’d made at five this morning.

 Hair, Eyebrow Threading, nails, feet, wax, shop.

 Somehow you’d managed to get through all of the list, except the shopping part, and it wasn’t even three in the afternoon. Lewis’s flight didn’t come in until five. The plan was for him to come home, and the two of you would go to dinner, but you planned on surprising him at the airport. You were that anxious to see him.

 As you were in the midst of getting ready to go to surprise him at the airport, your phone rang.

 “Hello?”

 “Guess who is officially in the same state as you?”

 “Baby?”

 “That’s right. I landed forty minutes ago.”

 Your head snapped to the clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock.

 “Baby, you said five.”

 “I know, look, I thought it would be too but looks like even time and space wanted us to be together.”

 You remembered the first time he said those words to you. They did the same thing now as they did almost two years ago—made your heart skip a beat.

 “I just wanted to give you a heads up before I walked in the door,” Lewis added. That was when you heard a car door shut.

 “Thank you, have a good one.”

 Sensing something was going on, you perked up. As you walked to the window of your bedroom, your phone chime for the Ring went off, indicating someone had tripped the sensor.

 “Lew, baby, is that--.”

 “Honey, I’m home. Come to daddy.”

 A scream escaped you before you dropped your phone and ran out of the bedroom.

 “Slow down.”

 Ignoring his warning, you barreled down the stairs and through your home. For the first time, you regretted signing the contract on this mammoth of a house. You should have stuck to your guns when Lewis said it was perfect, and you mentioned it was only going to be the two of you in a house meant for six people. His rebuttal—then we’ll fill it up with some kids. Once he said that you happily signed the contract right beside his name.

After way too long, you found him in the foyer at the front door, and that was when you picked up speed.

 “Baby!”

Lewis opened his arms and waited for you to leap into them. Once you did, you wrapped your legs around his back and crashed your lips to his. It had been three months since you’d been kissed, and it was long overdue. Eagerly you dipped your tongue into his mouth, hoping to show him just how excited you were to see him. Lewis moaned then turned your body to press you onto the dark wooden door.

 “I missed you so much,” you panted out in between kisses.

 “I missed you more.”

 Feeling as if there were too many barriers between you, you began peeling them off one by one. His jacket dropped to the floor within seconds. Then came his polo that you peeled off of him. with him bare chest, you allowed your fingers to reacquaint with his skin. Lewis must have felt the same way because the tee-shirt you wore, his tee-shirt was gone a few seconds after your nails scraped his back. Realizing you didn’t have on a bra, his eyes feasted on your flesh.

 “Welcome home to me, indeed.”

 You snorted and shook your head before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him some more. Lewis carried you through your home until he’d laid you onto the extra-large sectional couch. On lazy days this was where the two of you always ended up just cuddling, watching TV, or just chatting. Lewis pressed kiss after kiss onto your neck, collar, and chest before he rested his head in between your breasts and moaned.

 “Mmmm, I missed your skin,” he muttered.

 You lazily played with his midnight locks taking your time to graze his scalp with your nail tips.

 “I missed your smell,” you replied, inhaling deeply, allowing the scent that was all him to envelope you.

 Lewis turned his head and kissed your sternum before trailing down your belly. When he kissed your pelvis over your leggings, he moaned.

 “I canceled that dinner.”

 “What?”

“I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but when my mom texted me to confirm she kind of let it slip,” he admitted.

 You snorted, then laughed. It echoed through the first floor of your home.

 “Okay, so dinner is canceled. What’s planned in its place?”

 “Nothing.”

 “What do you mean nothing? Baby, I’m sure everyone who was supposed to come to this dinner tonight wanted to see you. It has been months,” you stressed.

 “Oh, I know it’s been months. That is why I canceled with my mom’s blessing. She even had a message for you.”

 You piqued up, straining your neck so you could gaze down at him. Making eye contact without angling his head up, Lewis smirked but didn’t speak.

 “What message?”

 “She’s not getting any younger and would like to be able to do Tik Tok dances with her grandchild without worry about her knees.”

 Your jaw dropped to which Lewis busted out laughing.

 “Wait, wait. What!?”

 “You heard me.” He kissed your belly again and dipped his tongue into your belly button. Moaning softly, you bit into your bottom lip.

 “So you’re saying your mother not so specifically but specifically is suggesting that--.”

 “—I put a baby in you? Yeah,” Lewis filled in.

 Your jaw was again ajar from your state of shock.

 “Wow.”

 You’d always known his mother wanted grandkids, but it was always one of those once a year at family dinners passing comment. She’d graduated now. Before you knew it, Lewis had lifted you into his arms again and was now carrying you through the halls, up the stairs.

 “You’re walking away from the door. What exactly are we supposed to do with the rest of the day?”

 “I think I have plenty of ideas,” Lewis answered as he carried you into your bedroom.

 From walking into the bedroom, he walked on into the bathroom. Once inside, Lewis plopped you onto the sink. As soon as you were seated, he began pulling off your leggings.

 “What’s happening right now?”

 “I’m getting you naked. I want to wash off the airplane and travel off of me before I smother myself with you, and you’re going to help me.”

 “Oh, am I?” Lewis then yanked off your pants and dropped them onto the floor, leaving you in your high waisted bikini-style thong. Lewis lowly growled as he peeped peeks of your ass in the mirror behind you.

 “You were ready for me to come home, you know how much I love these,” he grunted out, snapping the elastic against your skin, leaving a subtle stinging sensation that slowly dulled. Though it dulled, it awoke and intensified another sensation—arousal.

 He pulled back and began working on his jeans. Once he dropped them and pulled his boxer-briefs off, your teeth once again sank into your bottom lip. Your eyes traveled along his body, taking in the sleek muscles that decorated his torso down to his well defined oblique muscles that slanted inward, tempting you with that under bellybutton tattoo. He was even more ripped than he was three months ago. He was also a lot more bruised and scraped up.

 “Jeez, what have they done to you?”

 Glancing over his body, Lewis shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, occupational hazard.”

 You hopped off the sink and closed the space between you trailing your hand from his hip, over his ribs, and up to his chest. Once you reached his jaw, you gently cupped it.

 “Let’s get you cleaned so I can take care of you.”

 Walking behind him, you led the way to the shower, turned on the water, and allowed the moisture to rain over you. It was hard not to smirk when you heard Lewis’s guttural groan. As soon as he let it out to bounce off the tiled walls, his arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into him.

 Lewis’s lips latched onto your neck and sucked. The force of that suck had you remembering everything that mouth had ever done to you. As if he remembered as well, his grip tightened as his hand roamed to your backside to cup it. It felt like he moved his hands everywhere all at once as if he couldn’t be happy with one location.

 “It’s been so long, baby. I need you so much,” Lewis whispered in your ear, sending a violent shiver through you that awakened so much in you that you nearly overpowered him and took control. Almost.

 Before you could, Lewis pressed you to the wall, stretching your hands out along the tile. His mouth moved from your neck to your lips to suck the air right from your lungs. The man was meant for kissing. Once he was sure you wouldn’t be able to function, you felt his knee nudge your legs apart. Within seconds you felt his hand cup your sex, making you loudly gasp.

 “Do you need me as much as I need you?” Knowing you had no words to express how much you needed him, you nodded.

 “Words, babygirl.”

 You already saw what mood he was setting. Gathering your composure, you pushed off the wall and walked over to your bath products then lathered your bath gloves. Turning back to Lewis, you gently rubbed along his body taking care not to hurt him anywhere accidentally. As your gloved hands slowly traveled across his skin, your eyes followed where they went. The white lather of the soap was a nice contrast with his tanned and tattooed skin.

 Once you made it to his back, you relished the feel of his muscles dancing underneath your fingers, showing you again just how hard he pushed his body. Seductively you swirled your finger down his spine until you made it to the top of his taunt ass. There was nothing but trust from him as your hand rubbed his derriere, a trust you’d mirrored every day since nearly the day you’d met.

 After several long minutes of cleaning and teasing every inch of him, Lewis again pushed you against the shower wall. This time your abdomen and face rested against its cool surface while he pressed his body against your back and ass. Instead of speaking, Lewis kissed your jaw, brought his mouth to your ear, and bit down as he pulled the shower glove off of your hand. He knew damn well it wouldn’t fit his much larger one.

 It didn’t matter if they fit perfectly to him; a few moments later, you felt his gloved hand rub against your backside.

 Up—down—up—down.

 Lewis released a deep groan right beside your ear. Bringing his hand up your back, he gently rubbed your skin, applying enough pressure and force to clean but not enough to give you any sort of pleasure. He was an expert tease. Once his hand made it to your shoulder, he massaged it, applying more pressure dragging a satisfying moan from your lips.

 “You’re tense, love.”

 “I wonder why,” you whispered.

 Quickly, Lewis had you flipped around staring into your eyes. As he distracted you with his golden chestnut orbs, pulling you even more under his spell, his hand wreaked havoc on your breast. He rubbed, circled, pinched, and repeated the process. Bringing his ungloved hand to join in on the pleasure, he cupped and massaged them until he brought both hands to your throat to gently but forcefully hold you there.

 His lips crashed to yours soon after. His tongue was a work of art and spelled by a sorcerer and was proving to you just how well he knew how to use it. Your moans matched his, but when you felt his gloved hand against your folds, your moans increased.

 “Oh, baby.”

 “I can feel that tension increasing,” Lewis taunted as he turned you, placing you under one of the two overhead shower fixtures.

 Once the soap from your bodies was washed away, Lewis was carrying you once again into the bedroom. With you rested across it with your legs spread, Lewis’s head and mouth licked, nibbled, and sucked a path down your body until you felt his tongue flick across your needy bud. With the arch of your back, you gasped again.

 “Fuck, baby!”

 “Mmm.”

 In seconds his mouth was fastened over your sex, feasting as if his last meal was right between your thighs. There was an urgency to how his tongue flicked your clit and then delved between your folds only to nibble against your labia. After a few short minutes, you were a whimpering, writhing mess. Needing something to touch, your hands raked along his head. Every time you tried to snap your thighs together, he used his strength on you prying them apart and holding them to the bed so he could do as he wished.

 “Fuck Lewis, yes!”

 His moans were the only reply he gave. Just as you felt yourself nearing the threshold of absolute ecstasy, he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed. As if he had a tether from him to you, your body yanked to a half-sitting position.

 “What!? What’s wrong? What’re you doing?”

 Lewis didn’t answer. He just stood there licking his lips before he used his thumb to swipe at the corner of his mouth. The look in his eyes told you he had no intention of coming back to finish the job.

“Lew---,” you cautiously began watching him. He couldn’t tell you that he no longer wanted you; the uterus destroying lightsaber that Kylo Ren wished he possessed said otherwise. Biting your bottom lip, you moaned.

 “Come here, baby, let me help.”

 Lewis walked away to the leather armchair that was in the nearest corner to the bed. He then pulled it across the room to place it at the foot of the bed. By that time, you thought he meant for you to straddle him on it. So when Lewis sat, you began to move.

 “Stop!”

 Pausing, you gave him a questioning look.

 “How long have I been gone?”

 Crinkling your brow, you sighed. “Months.”

 “How many?”

 “Lewis--,” you began.

 “—Y/N. be a good girl and answer me.”

 Like a brat, you kissed your teeth and sighed out exaggeratedly. “Three months.”

 “Have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

 Your eyes bugged. He knew the answer to that. Lewis’s eyes flicked to the right bedside table, where he knew you had your toys.

 “Lewis, I don’t want to play this game,” you whined.

 “Are you sure? Your nipples are telling a different story.”

 Narrowing your eyes, you ended on an eye-roll. “Yes.”

 With your answer, Lewis stroked his cock, bringing your attention to the massive erection just standing tall as if it knew there was none like it. Lewis groaned and sucked in a breath.

 “Though I’ve tried not to, I’ve done this several times. I’ve lost track of how many.”

 You could hear his voice speaking, but you were too focused on his actions to really allow any words to resonate. Watching his large, veiny hand stroke his need had your mouth watering. It was so damn sexy. The sighed, coupled with his moans, was enough to make fresh wetness pool between your legs.

 When his hand stopped, you followed it to rest on the arm of the chair. A few seconds passed before you realized he wasn’t going to bring it back to continue. Locking eyes with him, you recognized the look.

 “Show me how you’ve done it.”

 You could have choked from the shock. You knew he wasn’t joking, and you knew better than to toy with him when he got like this. Bringing your hand down your body, you cupped your own sex and groaned. It was insane how wet you were.

 “Show me,” Lewis said in his impossibly deep voice. It had been months since you’d heard it this clearly. Facetime sex was great, and all, but there was nothing like his voice in person.

 Using your two fingers, you spread yourself so he could see. Lewis’s grunt was loud, and the jerk of his member was a substantial one. As if in a trance, your fingers found your opening and swirled around, coating themselves before circling your clit. The second you began, you had to steady yourself. You knew you wouldn’t last long with him sitting there, but you wanted to give him a good show. Your fingers sped despite your best efforts to slow them. Once your back arched, you had to pull your hand away. The action had your back arched more as you dropped your head back.

 “Fuck!”

 “Such a beautiful pussy baby,” Lewis huskily whispered.

 Bringing your head back to resume eye contact, you took a deep breath then continued. Starting slowly, you sucked your bottom lip and focused on his eyes rather than how you were making yourself feel. Dipping two digits inside your heat, you squirmed, jutting your breasts into the air. Lewis groaned from across the room and brought his hand back to his cock. After a few strokes, he groaned and put his hand back on the arm of the chair.

 “How’s it feel, baby?”                                                                                      

 As you plunged your fingers in and out of your body, you spoke, “So good, but I want your hand. Your fingers. Your mouth.”

 You gasped then brought your soaking fingers to your clit, intent on one thing. Release. Your fingers moved quickly, racing you toward your release. Lewis must have sensed it too because he was now at the edge of the chair observing.

 “Come for me, Y/N!”

 “Mmm, fuck Lewis, I’m gonna—gonna--.”

 Your back arched again, and your fingers sped, and within seconds you screamed out and shook from the sheer power of your release. While you were lost in your pleasure, you didn’t hear anything else but the pounding of your heart. When you felt his cock fill you to the hilt, you screamed and came again and clenched around him. Lewis growled, pinned your thighs to the bed, and plowed into you in a way that you knew you’d feel even tomorrow.

 His strokes were not meant to tease you or reacquaint his body with yours. They were meant to please, meant to mark, meant to ruin you for any other separations. He wanted to erase months, show you how he alone could make you feel this way, and how only he could give you what you needed. When he shifted your body to hoist it a few inches off the bed to give you long, deep strokes, it was over. another orgasm claimed you, and your nails claimed his skin—marking him as yours as much as he marked you as his.

 ���Fuck, you’re so tight. I’ve missed you so much.”

 With those words, Lewis pulled you up to him, so he was holding you as he was sitting back on his legs, and you were straddling him with your legs wrapped around his back. He controlled your body with ease and skill, lifting you only to drop you on his protruding heat.

  “I missed you.” Your lips crashed to his and took control of this. You nibbled his lips and sucked his tongue.

 It was such a beautiful mix of submission and dominance that the sheer intimacy of it had your belly fluttering.

 “This won’t be long, babe, I want too much,” Lewis warned.

 “Fuck me!”

 Dropping you back to the bed, Lewis held your legs like a pair of scissors and began throwing pummeling thrusts into you. You were thankful you’d chosen a home that had no neighbors for miles and in the middle of plenty of greenery. As he gave you everything he had the next few minutes, you took it all.

 Once you felt his move from thoughtful calculation to no order or rhythm, you knew it was a matter of seconds. Sure enough, you felt him release into you as he grunted and groaned loud enough to compete with your shrieks and shouts in between his utterance of how much he loved you. Lewis buried himself inside of you and pulled your final orgasm free.

 The two of you laid there for long minutes, composing yourselves while trying to catch tour breaths. When he rolled off of you onto the bed beside you, he groaned.

 “Mmm, I love you so much,” Lewis repeated.

 You rolled to his side and rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you.

 “I love you more, baby.”

 “Although I think that was the one that did it, we have all night.”

 “Did what?”

 Lewis rolled on top of you and plastered his hands on your belly. “Put a baby in here.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “Oh, so you were trying to get me pregnant?”

 His smile was wide, cheesy, and completely charming.

 “Do you have any objections? According to my calendar, you’re fertile.”

 Lewis thrust forward, joining your bodies again. Completely shocked, you gasped.

 “Lewis.”

 “Mmmm, god you feel like mine. Let me give you something else that’s mine.”

 “You’re serious?”

 You’d talked about starting a family together before, but you’d never made a decision. It was still something sweet to think about. Lewis stroked forward, then retreated and did it again and again.

 “I am, but I want you to be my wife first.”

 Your heart stopped.

 “Are you breathing?”

 As if for emphasis, he rotated his hips, making you feel his depth and breadth completely. Clenching around him, you shivered.

 “Mrs. Tan has a nice ring to it, as does wife, mother of my children.” With every word he spoke, he circled some more.

 “Love of my life,” he finished before he picked up his pace making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

 You knew that there would be no rest for the wicked, and it was evident Lewis was in a wicked mood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@munteanhorewrites @night-of-the-living-shred @caramara3 @chaneajoyyy @dangerouslovefanfic @sonjashuterbugjohnson @i-just-like-fanfics @areubeingserved @areubeingserved-too​

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 1

Apologies for the long A/N: This is the start of an AU fic inspired by this prompt & this prompt. It follows Amelia & Link, along with many others, in their first year as interns at seattle grace hospital. Thank you for sending character requests about this one! I settled on a few, but other characters are likely to show up later on as residents/attendings. Also, sidenote: this is completely an AU, meaning I just kind of grouped people together based on my interpretation of age (not that age really makes sense in the greys world anyways). This chapter is somewhat boring, basically just a set up for the characters and dynamic of the story. Thank you as always for feedback and prompts <3

In summary, the main interns in focus are: Amelia Shepherd, Atticus Lincoln, Maggie Pierce, Winston Ndugu, Jo Wilson, & Lexie Grey. The ship this focuses on is Amelink <3

_______

That's how it starts

We go back to your house

We check the charts

And start to figure it out

_______

(Hour 1)

“No, no, no,” she mutters impatiently, hastily climbing out of her car, her jacket catching in the door as she slams it shut. “God dammit, son of a-”

She tugs her jacket free and sighs in exasperation as she begins walking at a pace that could quite possibly challenge olympic level speed-walkers.

Amelia Shepherd was a lot of things.

Sharp. Cunning. Confident. Prepared. Most of the time.

But, throughout her lifetime, she’d also been described in less elevating ways. Unpredictable. Impulsive. Irresponsible. She laughs bitterly when her mind settles on the last adjective, as she scurries through the doors of Seattle Grace Hospital.

Because she was a lot of things. And late for the first day of her surgical internship was now getting added to the list.

_______

“Pierce, Lincoln, Wilson, Ndugu, Grey, Shepherd!” Chief Webber’s voice booms through the chaos of the crowded locker room. Interns begin stepping forward as their names are called. “Pierce, Lincoln, Wilson, Ndugu, Grey, and Shepherd,” he beckons again, “Your assigned resident is Dr. Karev.”

Alex scowls intimidatingly as five out of his six interns approach him by the door.

“Let’s move,” he mutters, starting to walk swiftly through the corridor of the hospital while the interns trail behind him.

“I have five rules,” he stops walking suddenly, and the sound of halting sneakers squeaks behind him. “First rule…” He trails off, turning around to look pointedly at each of their faces. “There are five of you here, who’s missing?”

The group looks between each other in confusion, shrugging amongst themselves. Alex peers down at each of their ID badges.

“Where’s Shepherd?”

More shrugs.

“Where’s Shepherd?” He repeats, louder this time.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Amelia’s breathless voice chimes distantly behind the group as she jogs to meet them. She comes to a stop, huffing out a breath as she pushes strands of her long, dark hair out of her face.

Alex glares at her, arms folding across his chest.

“Okay forget the rules, we’re out of time,” He growls. “You five,” He looks between those of his interns that were on time today. “You’ll be joining me in the gallery for a groundbreaking surgery.”

There’s excited murmurs throughout the group.

“I’m serious. The surgery you’re about to witness….you will likely never see anything like it again. You will be silent. You will take notes. And you will not embarrass me.”

The excited murmurs turn to anxious nods.

“Shepherd,” Alex continues, an evil smirk taking over his expression. Amelia gulps. “Your last name is not going to save your ass right now.” He laughs. “I have this dude who’s taking up a bed down in the pit. He won’t stop throwing up. He’s a junkie. You’re gonna go clean him up, give him an IV, and send him home. And then maybe you can come find us.”

Amelia sighs, stepping forward slightly to defend herself. “Are you sure? Don’t you think I should see-”

“I didn’t ask for a response,” he interrupts her. “I asked you to head to the pit.”

Amelia blinks, her hands dropping to her sides in defeat. She watches as the rest of her intern class hurries off to witness a groundbreaking surgery without her.

_______

(Hour 8)

Amelia slowly shuffles through the dimly lit basement of Seattle Grace, following the sounds of her fellow interns’ voices.

“Ugh, Atticus,” Jo laughs loudly. “Call him Link. I have never heard anyone call him Atticus.”

Jo’s laugh echoes through the hallway and Amelia uses it to guide her.

“Sorry,” Lexie giggles in defense. “It’s not like I knew that. Not my fault you all know each other already.”

Amelia finally approaches. And sees everyone sprawled out across the abandoned hospital bed in the hallway. The bed rests against a large window by the vending machines.

“Who all knows each other already?” Amelia huffs as she slides down against the opposite wall, settling herself on the floor and leaning her head back in exhaustion.

“Everyone, apparently,” Lexie responds as she takes a bite of a granola bar. “Maggie and Winston went to Tufts together. Jo and Link did the same undergrad program, and even worked at the same restaurant. I’m the loner here.”

“Well,” Amelia mumbles, eyes closing as her head rests against the wall. “I’m a loner with you, then.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that you’re a Shepherd,” Lexie laughs.

“And you’re a Grey!” Amelia bites back playfully. “We’re in the same boat here.”

“Wait, you’re a Grey?” Maggie gasps, practically choking on the handful of chips she’d just consumed. Winston leans forward, concern crossing his features as he rubs Maggie’s back. She slowly gets a grasp over her coughs. “You’re a Grey, too? Like….Meredith Grey?”

“Yeah….I’m her sister….” Lexie frowns. And Maggie’s eyes go wide. “What’s wrong with being a Grey-”

“Is everyone here somehow related to an attending or resident?” Jo interrupts, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “What in the nepotism….”

Maggie settles back in her seat, her eyes still wide as Winston watches her. Quiet falls between them all and Amelia resumes her previous position, eyes coming to rest as she leans back against the wall. She listens to the voices among the group as the conversation picks back up.

“I heard that every year, they pick the most promising intern on the first day to scrub in on something.” Jo announces. Amelia’s adrenaline kicks in a little bit at this information, but she keeps her eyes shut.

“During our first shift?” Lexie gasps.

“Mhm.”

“No thanks,” Lexie mutters. “I’d definitely screw something up.”

“I might ask Karev about it,” Amelia can hear the smirk in Jo’s voice. “Try and get a leg up on it.”

“Nah,” Link cuts in. “Don’t do that. Whatever happens, happens. You wanna be a shark about it?”

“Okay, Mr. ‘go with the flow.’” Jo laughs. “That kind of attitude is not going to get you anywhere.”

The comfortable silence that fills the hallway again makes sense. It reflects everyone’s current exhaustion.

But then a question gets voiced, and it takes Amelia a moment to realize that the question is directed toward her.

“How’d your patient in the pit go?”

Amelia’s eyes snap open as she searches for the face that voiced the question. Her eyes land on Link’s bright-eyed and sympathetic gaze.

“I….didn’t end up discharging him.” Amelia mutters. And she watches as Link raises his eyebrows at this information.

“Karev is not going to be happy about that.”

“He….uh,” Amelia sits up, bringing her knees to her chest as she explains. “The patient….he’s not a junkie.” She outwardly cringes at the word. “It’s not withdrawal. It’s something else.”

“What makes you think that?” Jo inquires doubtfully.

“His symptoms,” Amelia mumbles, somewhat self-consciously. “They’re not withdrawal symptoms.”

“Maybe Shepherd’s right,” Link offers, a kindness to his voice that surprises Amelia. She expects him to be more arrogant. Or maybe a little full of himself. Just based on his looks. But, everything she’s heard from him so far, has been nothing but positive.

“You going to tell Karev you didn’t discharge the guy?” Jo questions.

“I am,” Amelia responds matter-of-factly. And the hallway grows silent again.

“I could just take a nap right here, right now….” Winston eventually mumbles out.

And there’s a general hum of agreement. Before the quiet moment is interrupted by a chorus of pagers going off.

_______

(Hour 12)

They finally get a lunch break. And by the time it comes around, Amelia isn’t even hungry. After being vomited on in the pit all morning, her appetite is completely diminished.

She walks through the hallway towards the cafeteria and sees Maggie walking a few feet ahead of her.

“Hey!” She catches up to her.

“Hey,” Maggie smiles. “You grabbing lunch?”

Amelia just groans, shaking her head. “Not after the morning I’ve had, no.”

Maggie gives her a sympathetic look before she stops in front of the bulletin board outside of the cafeteria. Amelia watches curiously as Maggie pins a flyer to the board, then she reads the posting.

“You’re looking for roommates?” Amelia inquires, slowly becoming more animated as the idea settles in.

“Yeah, I have three rooms to fill in my apartment. My other roommates moved out but I want to re-sign the lease.”

“Um, wow,” Amelia is stunned by the obviousness of it. “Okay, me? I will be a roommate.”

They continue walking towards the cafeteria and Maggie turns to her, giving her an incredulous stare.

“We’re in the same intern class….” Maggie frowns. “We’re going to be around each other literally 24/7….you wouldn’t actually want to….live together, too?”

“I would,” Amelia persists. “I’m….crashing on my brother’s couch right now,” she mutters, embarrassed by the confession. “I would quite honestly rather live anywhere else.”

“I barely know you.” Maggie exclaims in disbelief.

“So! I’m great. I’m...I’m the best. Best roommate ever. I promise you won’t regret it.” Amelia grins hugely, wiggling her brows, trying to sell herself. And Maggie laughs, shaking her head.

They sit at a table, and Maggie unpacks the lunch she’s brought with her.

“Really,” Amelia tries again. “I’m a clean person. I do the dishes...most of the time. I pay rent on time. Always. And I’m fun, and-”

“Okay!” Maggie laughs. “Okay. You….you’re overselling it now. You can have one of the rooms.”

“Yes!” Amelia loudly squeals, and the outburst makes heads turn throughout the cafeteria. She quickly pipes down. “Sorry….you won’t regret it.”

Maggie just shakes her head, taking a bite of salad.

“So….” Amelia speaks up again after letting Maggie get a few bites in. “What do you have against Meredith Grey?”

And similar to earlier, Maggie almost chokes on her food again. She slowly works on swallowing her bite of salad before she speaks.

“I don’t have anything against Meredith Grey,” she mutters.

“Ha,” Amelia laughs sarcastically. “Your eyes just about burst through your head earlier when you found out Lexie was related to her. What’s up?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Hey, we’re roommates now. Spill.” Amelia folds her arms across her chest, leaning back in her seat.

Maggie glances around the room before she leans in, beginning to speak softly. So softly Amelia almost doesn’t hear her. “I came here….to Seattle Grace….I applied for this internship because my birth mother worked here. She was kind of….like a legend here.”

“Okay….”

“And I didn’t think I’d actually land the internship….”

“Okay….”

“And then I got the internship and….and I didn’t think I’d actually see her, or be working with her-”

“Who? Your mom?” Amelia interrupts.

“No,” Maggie breathes. “No….Meredith.”

Amelia just frowns, still not understanding how this ties together.

“Ellis Grey is my birth mother.”

And now it’s Amelia’s turn to choke on her food. Except she’s not currently eating anything. So, it’s more like she’s choking on air as she grips the edges of the table in shock.

But before she can voice her surprise, Winston approaches the table, sitting down to join them. And Amelia breathes out a huge breath. Glancing at Maggie and miming the motions as if she’s zipping her mouth shut.

Winston definitely notices the strange energy, and he looks between the two in confusion.

“I’m….” Amelia pipes up. “I’m going to go check on my patient in the pit. You two enjoy lunch.”

Amelia stands up, winking at Maggie mischievously, before heading for the door.

_______

(Hour 16)

16 Hours in and Amelia finally decides it’s time to eat something. She’s been on her feet all day, running labs and doing scut work for Karev. The patient she was supposed to have discharged earlier, is currently waiting on the neuro consult she’d ordered. So it feels like the perfect time to take a small break.

She’s been so busy, she’s barely even thought about food. Her stomach rumbles loudly as she makes her way back through the dimly lit basement, seeking out the vending machines she knows are down here. She could have picked any of the vending machines in the hospital, honestly, but she’s chosen this route because she likes the quiet, and hopes to have a moment to herself to unwind.

She rounds the corner, letting the subtle hum of the vending machines bring her comfort. But the moment doesn’t last.

“Hey, Shepherd!”

Amelia jumps, clutching a hand to her chest as her eyes settle on Link, where he’s once again sitting on the abandoned bed in the hallway.

“Shit, you scared me.” She exhales shakily.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then turns back to the textbook in his lap.

Amelia walks past him, continuing towards the vending machines. She considers the options in front of her, before deciding on a granola bar and an energy drink.

“You kind of stole my idea,” she mumbles as she turns around to face him.

“Hm?” he looks up from his book.

“I was going to come down here, and be all quiet and alone for a minute,” she smirks.

“Well, great minds think alike, I guess?” He laughs. “You can sit.”

Amelia gazes up at him through a pointed stare, biting the inside of her cheek as she weighs her options. She truly had been seeking a peaceful moment to herself before she realized Link was down here.

“And I can be quiet,” he adds, watching her think it through.

But she decides. She gives in and climbs onto the mattress, resting her back against the wall. She yawns hugely as she settles in a comfortable seated position, legs outstretched in front of her, mirroring Link’s current position.

“Those aren’t very good for you, you know,” he smirks, nodding towards the energy drink in her lap.

“What are you, a doctor or something?” she bites back sarcastically.

“Trying to be.”

Amelia smiles, popping open the drink and taking an exaggerated first sip. Link just shakes his head at her, turning back to his book.

Amelia sighs a few seconds later. “Is it just me....or do you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing?”

Link turns his head to the side, lifting his eyes from his book to her tired expression.

“I get that.”

“I mean,” Amelia lets her head roll to the side too, in his direction. “I was top of my class at Harvard. I really thought I’d have an impressive first day.”

“You….were late this morning….” Link stifles a laugh, squinting at her.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Yeah….not off to a great start. You’re right.”

A moment later Link slams his textbook closed, muttering something about trying to squeeze in a nap while he can. He leans his head back against the wall, letting his eyes shut.

“Oh, come on,” Amelia mutters playfully. “Sleep is for the weak.”

“Sleep is extremely important,” Link responds, eyes still closed. “And I’m not sleeping, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Amelia laughs under her breath. “Sure.”

“Really,” he continues. “Resting your eyes? Feels fantastic. You should give it a try.”

Amelia doesn’t respond to this, instead taking another sip of her drink.

“Afraid you’ll fall asleep?” Link inquires a moment later, opening his eyes to glance sideways at her.

“No. I can rest my eyes without falling asleep.”

“Sure.”

Amelia watches as he resumes his previous position, his eyes slipping closed as he rests against the wall.

“Is this some sort of competition?” She mutters.

“I’m not competitive.”

He’s smug, Amelia thinks, as she stares at his restful expression. She sets her drink on the windowsill behind her, and lets her own eyes come to rest. It feels good to close her eyes. Way too good.

A moment later she hears Link whisper “I told you.” At least she thinks that’s what she hears. Her consciousness is beginning to slip away from her. And it’s hard to pull herself out of it, or to even think about separating exhausted imagination from reality.

When Link’s pager goes off several minutes later, his eyes shoot open. The sound of it doesn’t even cause Amelia to stir. He turns to look at her. Her long hair covers half of her face, but he can tell by the pattern of her breathing that she’s fallen asleep. Link smiles to himself, deciding not to wake her. She had initially come down here seeking a moment to herself, and Link was going to let her have it. His pager beeps again and he stands up, quickly on his feet and moving through the hallway.

_______

When Amelia eventually wakes up, she has no idea how much time has passed. The first thing she notices is that she’s alone now. Link’s abandoned textbook sits open next to her. It’s much darker in the basement now, with less light coming in through the window. She frowns, checking her pager.

And that’s when she notices the red blinking light.

Signifying her pager is dying. Or needs new batteries. Or something. She doesn’t know. It’s her goddamn first day and she has no idea how this works.

She curses to herself, springing up from her seat and practically running towards the stairwell.

_______

By the time she reaches the pit, she’s completely out of breath. Her eyes scan the ER, trying to locate her patient from earlier. The patient she was supposed to have discharged. But instead of following Karev’s orders, she had called a neuro consult, because she knew that the case was something more. And now, as she stands in the ER, she completely regrets her decision to venture off to the basement and wait for a confirmation page from neuro. That decision was currently biting her in the ass.

Because now her eyes settle on the current situation.

She watches as Karev begins transport of her patient. Her mouth drops open, stunned as Karev kicks the hospital bed into movement, beginning to transport her patient to the OR. She grows even more stunned as she watches Link grab the rails on the other side of the bed, moving with Karev towards the elevator.

“Wait,” she steps forward. “Wait! That’s my patient, what-”

“Not anymore,” Alex growls. “It’s a tumor, Shepherd. No longer your case.”

“Right,” Amelia keeps pace with them. “I’m the one that called the neuro consult. I knew it! I knew that-”

“Shepherd-”

“That’s my patient!”

She stumbles backwards a bit as they navigate the bed to enter the elevator. She makes eye contact with Link as she watches them step into the elevator.

“Like I said,” Alex mutters, pressing the elevator button to the OR floor once they’re settled inside. “Not anymore. Maybe answer your page, next time.”

Her shock turns to anger as she holds eye contact with Link, and Karev’s words settle in.

“Beds 1-4 need stitches, can you manage that?”

The elevator doors come to a close and irritation flashes through her hot and fast. Because Atticus Lincoln, mr. ‘I'm not competitive,’ had just stolen her patient. Tricked her into falling asleep and then stolen her surgery.

_______

She tries to suppress her anger as she does scut work for the next few hours. As the time passes, she focuses on her bedside manner, and tries to improve her suture technique. Her anger subsides, and it gets replaced with disappointment. Mostly disappointment in herself. Because this was nobody’s fault but her own.

This was a surgical internship at one of the top hospitals in the country. It was allowed to be competitive. They were allowed to be sharks.

By the time she discharges her last patient in the pit, she’s feeling a lot of things. The feeling that stands out the most though, is the exhaustion.

_______

(Hour 24)

Amelia basically moves on autopilot as she exits the locker room, shrugging her jacket on and moving through the hospital’s corridor.

Her eyes feel heavy and all she can think about is going home and immediately going to sleep.

Her anticipation is interrupted, though, when she sees Link walking a few feet ahead of her. She stares at the back of his head, trying to remember any of the angry words she’d had for him earlier. But she’s just so tired, and she’s drawing a blank.

He comes to a stop in front of her, pausing in front of the bulletin board just outside of the cafeteria. Amelia slows her pace as she watches him read something on the board, and then he’s ripping off part of a flyer.

She catches up with him, not managing to walk slowly enough to avoid him completely. He notices her approach and almost instantly, a remorseful expression takes over his face.

They fall into step with each other. And Amelia clears her throat.

“Will you at least tell me how it went? With the tumor?”

Link nods sheepishly. “He’s in recovery now. The other Dr. Shepherd, who I’m guessing is your brother?” Amelia nods. “He removed it all, no problems.”

“That’s good,” Amelia mutters.

They approach the exit, and Link holds the door open as they make their way into the parking lot.

“I didn’t mean to steal your surgery, you know,” Link speaks up again, his tone apologetic. “I just….answered the page.”

Amelia smirks.

“Don’t feel bad. If you want to be a shark, be a shark.”

Link genuinely looks conscious-stricken at her words.

“I’m kidding,” Amelia adds. “It was pretty much my fault.”

Link looks down, crumpling the paper he’d taken from the bulletin board, and twisting it in his palm.

“What’s that?” Amelia inquires.

“Roommates wanted,” Link exclaims, smoothing out the paper and reading the brief description.

Amelia’s face falls.

“No,” she’s laughing now. “No way.”

“What?”

“You can’t be one of our roommates.”

“Who is ‘our’?” Link frowns.

“That’s Maggie’s ad,” she laughs. “And I already claimed a room, so I get a say here.”

“Well I think I’m going to inquire with Maggie,” Link smirks. “I just so happen to be looking for a new place right now. So, I kind of feel like I was meant to see this,” he holds up the paper.

Amelia sighs.

“I’ll get to her first,” she mumbles, beginning to turn towards her parked car. “And give her my input.”

The sun is starting to come up. 24 hours since the last sunrise. 24 hours since the start of their first shift. Amelia gazes up at the sky, grateful that it’s over. But grateful that it happened. Grateful to have the first day under her belt.

“Shepherd,” Link interrupts her thoughts. “I think I’ll be getting to Maggie first.”

“Huh?” She turns to him, and notices how he’s started walking in the opposite direction.

She catches up to him.

“We’re going to Joe’s,” he states, as Amelia steps into pace with him. “The bar across the street. Apparently it’s open 24 hours….but that’s on the down-low.”

Amelia halts, coming to a standstill.

And Link frowns, slowing to a stop when he notices her hesitation. “Jo, Maggie, Winston, Lexie….everyone, I mean. To celebrate a successful first shift?”

Amelia’s heart sinks. She hates this part. Hates having this conversation with anyone her age.

“I don’t drink,” she admits, clawing her palms with her fingernails as her arms drop to her sides.

“Okay,” Link says simply. “They have food there, right?”

She has to question whether she’s heard him right. Because she was waiting for the ‘why not?’ For the confused stare. Or for the uncomfortable chuckle. Which he offers none of. She was so prepared for the interrogation, that his reaction actually stuns her a little.

“Or music?” Link adds, when he realizes that Amelia is stuck inside her head a little. “Food. Or music. Or games? Shepherd, I know I said I’m not competitive, but that’s a whole different story when it comes to darts-”

“Okay,” she finally breathes, trying to hide her smile.

“Okay, you’ll come?”

Amelia nods, starting to walk again. Link catches up with her and she guides them towards Joe’s. They cross the street just as the sun comes up.

//

[anxiousstark]

S3 01 | Tattoo

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 1871

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, murder, dead body, swearing (always).

A/N: SEASON 3 HERE WE COME! Double update this week! 

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

Summer was the greatest thing that happened to us, and without any doubt, the best thing that had happened to me since I arrived at Beacon Hills. Our summer was full of peace, which is what we needed. No creatures were trying to kill us or other people. We were safe, and even though we couldn't avoid being a little apprehensive, we knew that we were finally safe.

Scott, Melissa and I were able to sit down together, explaining to her everything that had happened. We were terrified because it wasn't easy to explain to someone you loved that danger followed you. After all, we weren't humans anymore. That night we told her everything. Melissa got teary, feeling guilty for not being able to help or do anything for us. We told her that we were fine, we would be fine.

During this peaceful holiday, I was able to get closer to both boys. Scott and I didn't throw ourselves at each other's throats. Of course, there was a long way to walk. We still needed to get used to everything. The hazel-eyed boy and I developed a new habit during summer, whenever we felt anxious we seemed to notice, bodies being attracted to each other, hands interlocking, hoping to give the comfort we sought. Holding hands became a soothing gesture between us. We did it unconsciously.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles grabbed a folder, holding it up, showing it to the other boy. I walked closer to him, excited to see what was he holding, knowing Stiles, something that would make me snicker. "Too soon? Yeah." Of course, I snickered when I noticed that he was showing Scott the drawing of a beast that looked like the Kanima. Melissa allowed him to get a tattoo.

For what we got to know, Matt was dead. We still weren't sure what that would mean for Jackson. But we had promised ourselves that we wouldn't get into supernatural trouble during summertime. However, tomorrow was our first day back to class, which meant that the supernatural would come back to form part of our lives.

"I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?" I walked around the room, admiring the drawings decorating the walls.

"I'm not changing my mind." Scott and I got closer especially at night. One night I woke up after having a nightmare where I saw my mother. It seemed like the other McCall was also having a nightmare, which ended in both of us, sleeping on his bed, and talking about the stuff that worried us. That night Scott McCall cried, he missed Allion, but he couldn't ignore everything that had happened.

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged, stating that he just liked it. "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something."

Stiles had a small grin on his face, ready to inform Scott that wasn't the point. But the tattoo artist interrupted him. "He's right, tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark.' Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it."

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally."

"Okay, you ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope." Scott offered me a smile, ready to get the tattoo he has been asking for so long.

The boy standing next to me scratched his chin. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..." There was no time to analyze the situation. Stiles was lying on the floor, an uncomfortable posture making the circumstances even funnier.

I sat on the passenger seat on Stiles's Jeep. Scott had bought a bike with the money he had gained while working for Deaton in the clinic. So now, every day, I was driven to class by the hazel-eyed boy.

"Don't you think it was strange?" He asked me again as I spaced out. "It seems like something supernatural to me. Exactly when we go back to class." After Scott's tattoo, we were ready to go home and have dinner together. My half-brother's happiness due to the tattoo didn't last for long as an excruciating pain made him take the bandages off, realizing the tattoo had disappeared. Maybe we should have taken into account that he was a werewolf, and he healed faster. A tattoo was an open wound.

On our way home, we saw Lydia's car, and not to anyone's surprise, she was with Allison. A deer hit the front of their car, making us run to them to check if they were hurt. Scott was convinced that the deer was terrified.

"I suppose, Stiles." I sighed, running my hands through my hair.

"Hey," He glanced at me for a second, quickly looking back to the road ahead of him. "You alright?" His hand ended up resting on top of my hand, which was resting on my thigh.

"I feel like so many bad things are going to happen again." I lamented. "We still don't know anything about me. There are obstacles everywhere."

"I told you. We will find answers, okay?" He squeezed my hand. To be honest, some nights during summer were spent searching for every scaly creature that exists in the supernatural world. But without knowing what I could do, we couldn't conclude anything. When we arrived at school, we walked directly to our classroom.

Stiles and I glanced at each other when only a couple of minutes into the lecture, Scott had to leave class. My mind went to the worst scenario case, thinking that maybe Melissa was in danger. Stilisnki seemed to notice my change of behaviour, extending his hand, offering me to grab it. I did.

He rested back on his chair, sighing, tired from doing whatever the teacher has ordered us to do. "Hey, Lydia. What is that?" When I followed his gaze, I noticed a bandage around the pretty strawberry blonde girl's ankle. "Is that from the accident?"

"No. Prada bit me."

"Your dog?" I asked. Stiles's other hand extended forward, forbidding me from biting my pen, a nervous habit I didn't notice I was doing.

"No, my designer handbag. Yes, my dog." She replied as if I was stupid, which made me grumble a little while Stiles smiled at my reaction.

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head. "Okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just... maybe it means something's coming. Something bad." Stiles was completely right. Something was wrong, I felt it.

"It was a deer and a dog. What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice..." Her words were interrupted when something hit the window, leaving a trail of blood. Every student was interrupted form their concentration, glancing at the window. Jennifer, our teacher, walked towards it. Crows, so many crows were coming towards us. Another one hit the window, and then another, and another.

"S-Stiles..." I whispered, my hand rapidly clutching his shirt between my fingers. The windows couldn't resist so many crows hitting it. They ended up being shattered, thousand of crows getting inside the classroom.

I quickly grabbed Lydia as she seemed to be shocked enough to react, covering her head with my arms. I felt someone doing the same thing for me. Stiles's back pressed tightly against mine, the inside of his thighs pressed against the outside of mines. His arms covering my face after he saw that I was hit by a couple of enraged crows.

Of course, the cops had been called. They were now asking around, trying to understand what was going on. However, this was something out of their reach.

"You alright?" Stiles's hands grabbed my cheeks, lightly moving my head from side to side, making sure that there wasn't any wound or scratch.

"You?" My fingers grasped a feather that seemed to be stuck in his hair, pulling it out. He nodded, sighing in relief, taking me into his arms. That is another habit we had developed during the summer.

"Guys," Mr. Stilisnki came closer to us, his eyes focusing on our intertwined hands. "No more class for today, okay?" He offered us a smile. "Go back home, alright? Make sure you guys are in a safe place." We both nodded.

"Yeah, I see it. It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's just something I traced with my fingers."

"Why is this so important to you? Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?"

"To mark something." Stiles crossed his arms while letting Derek know as if he didn't know already. He looked so proud of himself.

"Well, that's in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means 'open wound'. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned 18. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

"For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes. I was trying to give her the space she wants. Goin' four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a, uh..."

"Like an open wound." Stiles finished for him. I sniffed, wiping my wet cheeks. I could feel a pair of eyes on me. "Wait, are you crying?"

I sobbed even harder when the boy standing next to me noticed that I was weeping. "I don't know why," I continued cleaning my face. "I just got emotional." The three boys grinned, Stiles embracing me while softly laughing.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt." Derek let him know, but that wasn't going to scare Scott.

Fire. He was going to burn Scott. "Oh, wow. That's a... that's a lot for me. So I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just gonna wait outside." He tried to leave, and I tried to follow him, but Derek wasn't having any of it when he got up, grabbing us from the back of our shirts, and telling us to hold Scott down.

When we were leaving Derek's house after holding Scott down, who cried loudly, until he passed out. The McCall boy couldn't help but grin and be excited about his first tattoo.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now." Stiles examined it, hands deep down in his pockets.

"Yeah. I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happened to us... everything just changes so fast." I sighed, linking my arms with both boys, who offered me a smile. "Everything's so, uh... Ephemeral."

"Studying for the psats?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

Scott opened the front door, but rare enough, he examined it while rubbing his fingers against the wood. "You painted the door. Why'd you paint the door?" He asked, looking back at Derek.

"Go home, Scott."

"Hey," I intervened. Scott's breath got quicker, scratching the paint off the door. "What is going on, Scott?" There was a symbol on the door.

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh​ -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[ofbardsandmonsters]

Fill for square N3 - “free space” for the @stb-bingo. read it on ao3 here

This is fill number 5 for me AND it gives me my first BINGO!!

***

“Do you have your inhaler?”

“Yes.”

“What about the backup inhaler?”

“Ned has it.”

“Did you pack clean underwear?”

“Dad, come on. Of course I did.”

“How many pairs?”

“Dad.”

Tony holds up both hands, smiling at Peter, who scowls back. But Tony refuses to be sorry for worrying about his only son going on his first overnight field trip. It’s been just the two of them since before Peter was even born. And this would be the first time they’d been apart more than a few hours in fifteen years. So even if he wasn’t an omega, Tony feels like he’d be entitled to a little parental panic.

Peter’s phone beeps, and he glances at it before zipping up his backpack and slipping it onto his back. “Ned and his parents are here.”

The elevator opens without prompting, and the two Starks ride it down to the ground floor. Tony can see the Leeds’s car sitting at the curb, and Ned jumps out of the car as soon as they approach. The two boys perform some complicated handshake that even Tony’s genius brain can’t follow. He rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at the boys’ obvious bond, and goes around to the driver’s side to finalize details for picking up the boys at the school in a couple days with Ned’s father.

He’s standing on the curb with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, watching the Leeds’s car drive away, when his assistant Darcy comes up beside him. The beta’s got a tablet in her hands, a sight that always means it’s time for him to actually do some work. And with Peter gone for the next several days, she won’t be letting Tony get away with using him as an excuse.

“Kiddo all packed off? Gonna be weird without him underfoot.”

Tony snorts. “You love having him underfoot. You spoil him almost as much as I do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, Miss Lewis. My mistake. What’s on my agenda for this morning?”

Darcy follows him back into the tower, pulling open his schedule on her tablet as they walk to the elevator. “You have three meetings before lunch. R & D requested you for a demo at 2:30. Tonight is your monthly visit to Maria Stark House, Colonel Rhodes is meeting you there at six to help serve dinner.”

The last item on the agenda makes warmth spread through his chest. He had established the Maria Stark House for Omegas during his pregnancy with Peter, and once a month he goes over to help cook and serve dinner to the residents and their children. Most of the men and women living there have been recently separated from their alphas, whether by death or by choice, and have no support system to catch them. Many are in various stages of pregnancy, and some come with small children clinging to them. The Maria Stark House provides support and housing either until the baby is born or until they’re back on their feet.

It’s his pride and joy, other than Peter of course.

As he and Darcy approach his office, Tony can see a tall figure in what appears to be military dress through the frosted glass of the windows. “Darcy, why is there someone in my office already?”

“That would be your 8:00. The new army liaison? He’s been waiting a little while, but I told him you had a personal matter that needed attending to and he seemed perfectly content to wait.”

Tony groans, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling before scrubbing his hands over his face. “Rhodey just had to go and get that promotion. Couldn’t be happy spending the rest of his career as our liaison.”

“Do I need to remind you how much you cried at the ceremony? I’m sure I could get JARVIS to project the video on the nearest wall if you just—”

“Nope! No, I’m good, thank you Darcy. But you know how I feel about the military. Bunch of puffed up alpha assholes with an overinflated sense of importance.” Obviously his assistant didn’t know the full story behind Tony’s disdain for anyone in a uniform that wasn’t Rhodey, but she understood nonetheless.

“I’m well aware of your feelings, Tony. But if you want to continue providing tech and armor and medical supplies to the military, then we need a liaison. Just go in, get to know the guy a little, and then I’ll swoop in and save you and send him on his way. Okay?”

Tony sighs, deflating a little as he nods.

“Good. Now, before you go in there, hold still.” Tucking her tablet under one arm, Darcy steps into his space to straighten his tie and smooth out wrinkles in his jacket that only she can see. Then she slides her fingers into his hair to tousle the silvering strands. She steps back with her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork before nodding in satisfaction.

“Want to tell me what that was about, Miss Lewis?”

“Captain Hottie in there is an entire buffet. And you’ve been starving for way too long, boss man.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at the younger beta. “Darcy, I cannot sleep with our liaison. Pepper would string me up by my toes, and Peter is too young to be without a father. Besides, no hotshot army alpha is going to want to waste his time on an aging omega with a teenager.”

“You’re not aging, Tony, jeez. You’re thirty-five.” Darcy’s blue eyes soften, and she reaches out to squeeze his arm. “Look, I know Peter is your entire world, yadda yadda yadda. We all love him. But you deserve some happiness too.”

Before he can respond, she turns him around and nudges him toward his office door, slapping his ass with a resounding crack. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger!”

He glares at her over his shoulder, watching her stalk off on her criminally high heels, probably on her way  to torture some poor unsuspecting interns. When she disappears around the corner, he turns back to his office and takes a fortifying breath. Whoever this guy is, Tony isn’t going to let himself be intimidated. He’s Tony Stark. And Stark men are made of iron.

The door opens silently as he steps inside. “Sorry to keep you waiting, captain. I had something that needed to be sorted and it couldn’t wait, so I—”

The other occupant of the room turns around, and it feels like time stops. Between one breath and the next, Tony’s twenty years old again, a positive pregnancy test in his pocket and excitement to share the news with his alpha swelling in his chest. Excitement that dies a swift and fiery death just minutes later when the alpha breaks his heart and walks out the door.

The very same alpha standing across from him in full military dress, hands in his pockets, shifting nervously.

“Hey, Tony.”

Even after all this time, Tony still knows Steve Rogers’s face better than his own. How could he ever forget, when he’s spent the last fifteen years seeing those features reflected in his son’s face? A son that he’s spent nearly two decades raising alone.

Tony does the only logical thing.

He bolts.

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Darcy finds him twenty minutes later in the hidden corner of his workshop that only a select few people have access to. He hears the click of her heels first, before she comes around the corner and inputs her code. The glass doors to the restricted area slide open, and she spots Tony easily where he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, knees tucked up to his chest. She crouches until they’re eye to eye. He’ll never figure out how she manages to execute a perfect squat in those heels.

“Hey, boss. Did the meeting with Captain Hotpants go that bad? JARVIS said you turned tail and ran almost immediately. What gives?”

Tony drops his head against his knees, trying to hide the way tears have started to gather in his eyes at just the mention of Steve. But he knows Darcy’s not going to let it go, and no one else sees through his lies and misdirects the way she does. So he tries to form some kind of coherent response, but all that comes out is, “Peter’s father.”

“What does that worthless nothing have to do with this?”

He clears his throat, gathering his courage to actually look his assistant in the eyes. “It’s him. The-the guy. The liaison, it’s… he’s Peter’s father.”

Darcy rears back like he just punched her in the gut, and she stares at him in wide-eyed shock for a minute. Her features soften as she shifts onto her knees and reaches out with both hands to grip his shoulders. “Oh, Tony. Wow, what a shock. That is some kind of wild—”

A strange look crosses her face before she picks her tablet up off of the floor and starts scrolling through it. As she reads, Darcy’s face slowly changes from confused to startled before her pretty features twist into a mask of rage. It’s a look Tony very rarely sees on her face, and it makes him sit up straight.

“Darcy? What is it?”

He hears a low growl, and that’s how he knows she’s really pissed off. Betas don’t growl like omegas and alphas do, not unless they’re pushed over the edge. His instincts kick in, helpless against the clear distress of someone he cares about, and soft soothing noises emanate from his throat.

It takes the younger woman a few minutes to compose herself, but eventually her scent shifts from furious to simple anger. She takes a breath, and then hands Tony the tablet. It’s open to the file on Steve they’d received from the army rep that had arranged the appointment to SI military liaison. He browses it, but nothing that could explain her anger pops out. When he looks back up at her, confused, she taps on a note at the bottom.

“He requested this position. I didn’t think anything of it when I read the file the first time, just assumed he was a career guy who was sick of combat and wanted something more cushy. And the rep said he thought Rogers was a perfect candidate. Tony, if I thought for even a second that he had an ulterior motive I would have made sure he couldn’t get within even a thousand feet of the building, I swear.”

Tony doesn’t respond at first, too busy reading and rereading the rep’s note. Captain Rogers entered his own name into the running for this assignment before we could even gather a list of acceptable candidates, but it is my personal opinion that he would make an ideal candidate for army liaison. Why in the hell had Steve suddenly decided he wanted a position that would force him to work alongside the omega he had abandoned fifteen years ago?

He was damn sure going to find out.

“JARVIS, is St… Captain Rogers still in the building?”

“Yes, sir. Captain Rogers is still in your office.”

“Good, keep him there.”

He pushes off the wall and stands up, Darcy following with a whole lot more grace, and he hands her back the tablet. She watches him straighten his jacket and do his best to smooth out his hair that’s gone wild from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it.

“Tony, are you sure it’s a good idea to confront him right now? You’re upset, and I don’t need the entire building gossiping about another one of your shouting matches with an alpha.”

“I’m good, I’m fine. I’m going to walk in there, calmly, ask him what his game is and then tell him to get the fuck out. Piece of cake.”

Darcy’s entire face practically screams how much she doesn’t believe anything that he’s just said, but she doesn’t try to stop him. What she does is give JARVIS specific instructions once Tony’s out of earshot.

“JARVIS, blackout mode in the boss’s office as soon as he shuts the door.”

“Of course, Miss Lewis.”

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Tony’s entire plan to be calm and mature goes out the window as soon as he walks back into his office and sees Steve standing there.

“Tony—”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Fifteen years, Steve. You walk out of my life like I meant nothing to you and I don’t hear from you for fifteen fucking years, and now you think you can just waltz in here like everything’s cool and just expect me to work alongside you? What the fuck, Steve?”

“No, Tony, that’s not—”

“I thought this was just some weird cosmic coincidence, the universe playing a joke on me. But you requested this position. Why? What the hell is your game?”

“There’s no game Tony, I wouldn’t—”

“Is this about Peter? We didn’t have to go through all this song and dance. I would have let you see him.”

“Peter? Your son, Peter? What does he have to do with—”

“Oh, don’t play stupid, Steve. It’s not a good look on you.”

“Tony, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I be interested in your son?”

“Just because you’ve been off playing soldier for his entire life doesn’t mean you get to pretend he isn’t yours.”

Steve freezes, then sits down in one of the plush chairs across from Tony’s desk like he’s a marionette who’s just had all of his strings cut. He’s paler than normal, making his bright blue eyes stand out. “He’s… mine?” Steve’s always been a pretty terrible liar, so Tony knows the shock on his face is real. He sits down behind his desk, feeling similarly off-kilter.

“Of course he’s yours. I haven’t, um… I haven’t been with anyone else since… well, you. Raising Pete on my own was a full time job, I didn’t really have time for dating. He’s not really a secret, so I just assumed you knew he was yours.”

Across from him, Steve slumps in his chair, his gaze going far away. But after a minute or two, he seems to shake himself and he shifts forward, blue eyes locking on to Tony’s. “If I had known, I never would have let you go through all of that on your own, you have to believe me. I… why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Tony sighs, breaking eye contact. “I was going to. The day you… the day you left, I had the test in my pocket. I just… never got the chance. When the media got wind that I’d had a child and the news was everywhere, there was no word from you. So I assumed you wanted nothing to do with us.”

Steve looks stricken, and he scoots to the edge of the chair. Both hands reach out, almost like he wants to reach for Tony, but his strong fingers close around the edge of the desk. “Jesus. Tony, god, no. If I had known that Peter was my son, our son, nothing could have kept me away.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. Trust me, I remember everything I said. I’m never going to stop hating myself for hurting you like that. Every time I close my eyes, I can see that devastated look on your face. Tony, I’ve missed you every minute of the last fifteen years.”

“Then why—”

“Because I wasn’t good enough for you!”

Tony flinches back like he’s been slapped, and he’s not sure which of them is more surprised by Steve’s outburst. But his surprise quickly twists into anger. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“No, Tony. It’s not. You were so far out of my league, in every way possible, and your father took every opportunity he could find to remind me of it. And I was able to brush it off for a while, but it kept building and building until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Steve, I never thought that. You were everything I wanted and—”

Steve is out of his seat and around to Tony’s side of the desk before he can even think about what he’s doing and whether it’s appropriate or not, his instincts leading him as he recognizes the scent of distressed omega. He sits on the edge and reaches out to tug the smaller man up and against his chest. Surprisingly, Tony goes without resistance.

“I know. I know and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to keep him out of my head.”

“You should have talked to me.”

“I know.”

“My parents died a year after you left, Steve. Why didn’t you come back?”

Steve sighs, pulling the omega tighter against his chest until his scent starts to soften into something less harsh. “I couldn’t. The idea that I needed to be a better alpha for you was so deep into my brain that I couldn’t shake it. I had to keep pushing, keep working towards higher ranks until I felt worthy. And… part of me thought I would never reach it, not after the way I’d treated you.”

He feels a sharp jab to his chest, and Steve leans back a little to rub at the spot and pout down at Tony, who’s glaring at him.

“You were always worthy, you big stupid alpha. All you had to do was love me to be worthy. I was the one who was lucky that you took a chance on such a messy, broken omega.”

Steve lets out a fierce growl that echoes through the room. He shifts his hands to cradle Tony’s face. “There is nothing messy or broken about you. And I know I don’t deserve it, but if you’d let me, I will spend every minute of the rest of my life showing you.”

Tony shudders at the promise in the alpha’s voice, and he presses his face against Steve’s chest to hide the tears gathering in his eyes. “I shouldn’t. Pepper’s gonna kill me. Rhodey’s gonna kill you. And Peter will be an orphan before he turns sixteen. But…”

He looks up at Steve, and lets his hands come up to twist in the material of the alpha’s  starched green jacket. “I don’t wanna do this without you, Steve. I’ve done it alone for fifteen years and I can’t anymore. Not if there’s an option to do it as a team. It’s gonna take work, and you have to give me time to trust you again. I want to, but you have to show me that you won’t hurt me again, Steve.”

Steve tugs him close again, leaning down to press a kiss into his dark curls. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Brilliant, strong omega. Raising a kid i running a company, all on your own? You’re perfect. How did I ever give you up?”

He can feel Tony trembling against his chest, so Steve shifts them around until he’s sitting in Tony’s ridiculously large desk chair and can pull the omega into his lap. Tony lets out an audible sigh, and Steve chuckles when he feels nimble fingers start unbuttoning the large buttons on his dress coat. He doesn’t resist, letting the omega push it off his shoulders and tug it free of his arms. When the coat is off, Steve wraps his arms around Tony and hugs him tight to his chest.

“This better, Tony?”

The brunette nods, and it isn’t long before Steve’s ears pick up the sound of Tony purring softly. The grin that splits his face makes his cheeks hurt.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Steve basking in the warm, comfortable scent of happy and content omega. This was more than he ever could have hoped for. When he requested the assignment to SI as the army liaison, he had only dared to hope that Tony would talk to him. Never could he guess that he would have Tony curled up against him like this, especially not after his initial reaction to seeing Steve after so long. And now, he thinks there’s only one thing that could make this better.

“Hey, Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I… Peter. Can I meet him? You don’t have to tell him who I am right away, I just… I want to get to know him if I can.”

Tony tries to sit up, but Steve tightens his hold, and he settles back down with an amused huff. “Of course you can meet him. He’s your son too, and he deserves to know both his dads. He’s in DC on a field trip for a few days, but I’ve already got a couple days blocked off in my schedule when he gets back. The three of us can spend that time together.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to get in the way—”

“You won’t be. You’re going to love him, Steve. He’s so smart, and strong and brave and good. He’s the best parts of both of us. JARVIS, give us some pictures up on the wall, please?”

A slideshow of pictures projects onto the empty wall across from them, starting from Peter’s birth and slowly moving year by year. Steve can’t help the tears that form as he watches the little boy, his little boy, grow up.

“He’s beautiful, Tony. I can already tell what an amazing job you’ve done with him. I can’t wait to get to know him. And get to know you again.”

After the pictures, JARVIS starts up some of the home movies Tony’s taken of Peter over the years. Gradually, Steve can feel the omega growing more and more relaxed against him. He loses track of how much time passes before Tony speaks again.

“You’re fired, by the way.”

Steve barks out a laugh, looking down at Tony, whose eyes are still watching the video currently playing on the wall. “What do you mean, I’m fired?”

“It seems unprofessional for you to technically be an SI employee if you’re going to be sleeping with the head of the company.”

One large, calloused finger hooks under Tony’s chin and tips his head back so Steve can meet his eyes. “Tony, I want to make it clear that this isn’t just about sleeping together. When you’re ready, after I’ve groveled and worshipped you and done everything I can to earn back your trust and your love, I want to be your alpha. I want us to be a family. Permanently.”

Steve’s declaration is so serious, so clearly heartfelt and earnest, there’s nothing stopping Tony from melting completely. He surges forward, capturing Steve’s lips in a kiss that’s fifteen years overdue. The alpha startles and freezes in shock, but he returns the kiss before Tony has even a fraction of a chance to second guess it.

The kiss only lasts a handful of seconds, but it leaves both of them dazed and grinning like fools. Tony settles back down against Steve’s chest, and together they watch the memories that Tony had captured play out on the wall, the room overflowing with the scents of warm and happy alpha and omega.

Darcy comes searching for Tony an hour later when he doesn’t show up for his second meeting of the morning. JARVIS directs her to the office, where she finds the two men deeply asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“JARVIS, snap a picture of that, please.”

“My pleasure, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy still plans to threaten the good captain, viciously, with her sharpest pair of stilettos. But her love for Tony goes far beyond the care of an employee for her boss. Tony is the older brother she never had, and his happiness—and Peter’s— means more to her than the joy she derives from threatening alphas bigger than her and watching them cower.

With a swipe of her finger, she clears the rest of Tony’s schedule, and heads down the hallway to her own office to await the email from Pepper requesting an explanation that she knows will be on the way before too long.

When her computer dings, she sends off her response with just one sentence.

I promise you, it’s worth it.