#apaixonar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flurrys-creativity · 1 year

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Apaixonar

Apaixonar (v.) - to fall in love with someone or something; the act of falling in love

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader; Genre: s2l, Slice of life, Romance, Fluff, Smut; Rating: 18+, nsfw, MDNI; Warnings: rich prick Jackson, being kicked out of his home by his dad, mentions of regret, Bambam being fancy, having no money and getting kicked out of a taxi too, spontaneously moving into a shared apartment, jackson being quite the asshole, SMUT, phone sex via official services, masturbation, guided masturbation, slight nipple play, oral (fem receiving), orgasms (m & f), unprotected sex, pulling out and cumming on the stomach (not the safest option), hinted possessive jackson; Wordcount: 7.252

Summary: In need of a new roommate you weren’t too picky and when a handsome stranger told you he wanted to be your roommate you didn’t say no. Though you didn’t expect to be so different from him and you definitely didn’t expect to work more now instead of less. Actually you didn’t expect a lot of things with your new roommate.

A/N: For once I managed to post something during an idol’s birthday!!! Ignoring the fact I only managed this on the third attempt... Happy Birthday Jackson Wang from China!!! Please enjoy this one shot (where I tried writing solely from his perspective)

Frustrated, Jackson kicked against his suitcase, growling internally when the pain shot from his toes up through his body. He ran his hands through his hair and looked around through the empty streets.

Banished from his home by his own father he was forced to leave. Hoping he could take refuge at his best friend's place, he had called a taxi but as soon as the driver heard Jackson had no money with him, the driver kicked him out as well, cursing loudly and driving off again. He successfully left Jackson standing alone in the middle of the streets with his suitcase.

Maybe it was actually for the better that Jackson couldn’t make it to his friend’s place. Even though he loved Bambam and always threw parties with him, living together was a completely different level though. He remembered how they had been on a vacation together and were supposed to go out but it took Bambam hours to decide what pair of shoes he wanted to wear.

Of course Jackson hoped it would only last a few days until his father would calm down and ask for his son to return but Jackson couldn’t be sure of that. Never before had he seen that look in his father’s eyes and he didn’t want to admit it but it scared him. It scared him enough to worry his father might stay stubborn and reject his own son for a while.

Jackson sighed and noticed only now that he had no clue where he actually was, never having been in this part of the town before. With an annoyed click of his tongue he pulled his phone out of a pocket about to check his location when the minute he turned the screen on his phone decided to die in his hands.

This wasn’t the way Jackson had planned his Saturday night to go. He cursed under his breath and rubbed one hand over his face, tiredly searching for a solution for the predicament he was in.

That was the moment he heard someone humming quietly, accompanied with steps that halted every other second.

Jackson turned around, his eyes jumping around the area desperately searching for the source of the sound. He didn’t think someone else would be out during this late hour. He had already feared that he had to stay on the streets for a night until he could ask someone where a nearby hotel was located.

A shimmer of hope bloomed inside of his chest when his eyes finally found the person responsible for the humming. He watched how they pinned something against a post and then turned to walk down another street.

Jackson called out but didn’t receive any reaction. With a huff he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and hurried to the post, wanting to see where the person was walking before actually following them.

His gaze wandered to the slip that was pinned on the post, seeing the large words “roommate wanted” at the top of it. Jackson skimmed over the information and stopped at the name on the bottom. “Y/N”, he mumbled and ripped the piece of paper off from the post, looking over the details once more even though the only thing he cared about right now was the fact there was an available room for him, which would hopefully be a lot more comfortable for him than a simple hotel room. He grabbed his suitcase again and hurried after you, his gaze never leaving your form.

You wore some dark pants, simple sneakers and a hoodie that was too large on your form and could have counted as a dress as the hem of it ended mid thigh. The closer Jackson got the more details he could see, noticing the large headphones you were wearing and preventing you from hearing his call. He also noticed something poking out between your lips, thinking it was a cigarette at first, but after you pinned another paper against a board and looked at it in thought you grabbed the thin stick and pulled a lollipop out of your mouth, tapping the sweet sugary marble against your lips.

When you turned around you flinched slightly and stared with wide eyes towards Jackson, quickly pulling your headphones down. You pressed a hand against your chest and exhaled loudly. “Gosh, you scared me”, you mumbled around your lollipop.

Jackson tilted his head and mustered you closely - from the relieved grin and breathless giggle to your nervous shuffling with your feet.

“Can I help you?”

He saw how you glanced at his suitcase before you looked back up to his face, waiting with a curious glint in your eyes for his answer.

“You’re looking for a roommate.”

“Huh?” You raised both your eyebrows before understanding dawned upon your face. “Ah, yeah. My last one moved to another town and the rent is a little too high for just one person.” You laughed lightly and tugged a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to look anymore.” Jackson stated, observing your reaction. “Your new roommate is standing right in front of you.”

He watched you blinking rapidly and staring blankly back at him. A sigh escaped his lips and Jackson had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “I want that room. Can we go there now? I am kind of tired and would like to rest.”

“Huh?”

This time Jackson rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Do I need to explain this to you in a way a commoner may understand? I want that room and I want it now.”

“You don’t want to check it first if it’s to your liking?”

“No.”

Once again you blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the situation and the attitude from the man in front of you. “If you’re sure, fine with me”, you smiled and led the way, trying to make light conversation with him.

Jackson mostly ignored what you were saying, only humming every now and then, while he walked alongside you through the empty streets. It seemed like a rather quiet area, with a large park on one side where only a few street lamps illuminated the greenery. On the other side one apartment complex after the other appeared within Jackson’s view.

“Here we are”, you smiled and pulled your lollipop out of your mouth. “It’s not much but it’s home.” You opened the door to an apartment complex and waited for Jackson to get inside as well.

He followed you silently, a small sneer on his face at the interior that greeted him inside. The only thing he could think of was prison, as the stale walls and absolutely no furniture didn’t appear very welcoming.

The elevator wasn’t much better. It slightly wobbled while it moved the both of you upwards and Jackson already feared he would get stuck inside of it one day.

The elevator came to a halt on the second floor and you stepped out, guiding Jackson through a narrow hallway. He saw a bunch of doors and wondered if you just brought him to the room before you would go to your own as he couldn’t fathom why else you passed so many doors without saying a word.

At last you pulled a key out of your pocket and opened a door. You turned on the light and walked further inside, throwing your shoes into a shelf.

Jackson frowned as he saw another hallway - a shorter one this time. He watched your retreating back, waiting for you to return and tell him where his room was supposed to be.

“Come, get inside”, you called over your shoulder and disappeared around a corner.

He could hear you rummaging through some things while he slowly walked inside, closing the door behind him. Jackson put his shoes next to yours and followed you inside.

The frown was still present on his face as he walked through the smaller hallway. He observed everything closely - the paintings on the wall, a small bathroom that was slightly hidden behind another door and a closed door with a colourful sign stuck to it. Jackson didn’t want to call this area messy but it was nothing compared to what he was used to. His home had been neat and clean with nothing personal lying around. Meanwhile here he could see a lot of personal things wherever his gaze landed on.

“My previous roommate left all their furniture in the room, saying they wouldn’t need it anymore. If you don’t like it, we can throw it out tomorrow”, you started to say once Jackson appeared within your sight again, “I think we can do everything else tomorrow as well. It is pretty late after all and you said you’re tired, right?”

Jackson stared at you blankly as if he was waiting for something else.

You blinked a few times and quickly gestured towards the open room. “This would be your room. Do you want to check something else or is it okay for you to wait until tomorrow?”

Jackson only grunted and walked into the small room. He shut the door behind him immediately, to give him the privacy to inspect the room. One glance around and Jackson knew this room wasn’t even half as big as his old closet.

A scoff escaped his lips as he walked further into the room, turning around his own axis. How could anyone live like this, he wondered, these conditions felt almost inhumane. Jackson wished his father would reach out to him soon. He couldn’t and most importantly didn’t want to live like this.

To his dismay his father didn’t reach out to him. Instead you kept pestering him about the contract and the lease. Even after he signed the contract and shoved it right back into your chest - same with a cheque - you made several attempts to talk about it again.

Jackson couldn’t care less about any of that. The only thing on his mind was the fight with his father. He had called his mother two days after he arrived at your place, only to be met with disappointment.

“Jackson, where are you? I called Bambam and he said you didn’t show up at his place!” The voice of his mother was full of worry and he could basically see the tears welling up in her eyes and her lip quivering.

“I found another place to stay at.” Jackson mumbled and looked once again around the small room, feeling almost trapped inside the tiny space.

“Are you alright?

“What do you think?” Jackson snapped and rubbed one hand over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to”, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure.

“Oh my poor, poor baby.”

Before Jackson could ease the mind of his mother, he heard some voices in the background. A frown appeared on his face when he recognised the voice of his father.

“Who are you talking to? Is that Jackson?”

His mother couldn’t answer, instead Jackson heard her protest and her voice grew distant over the speaker.

“Jackson?”

“Father.”

“You are not welcome. Neither in presence nor over the phone. Do not call again.” His father hissed angrily.

“I know I messed up, okay? And I’m sorry, father.”

For a moment it was silent and a glimmer of hope sparked in Jackson’s chest. He hoped his father would accept his apology and let him come home again. Jackson wished to have his old room again - or at least a room that was as big as the whole apartment here.

“As far as I know”, his father paused and sighed, “I don’t have a son.”

The last thing Jackson heard was the outcry from his mother before the line went dead. He blinked a few times, feeling tears getting caught in his eyelashes. He swallowed harshly, trying to process the last sentence that kept repeating itself inside of his mind.

That same night Jackson pulled out his priced Whiskey from his luggage, hoping to drown out the echo of his father’s voice with some alcohol. At least with the numbness spreading through his body and clouding his mind he was able to tolerate his current situation.

He wasn’t able to get in contact with his mother again after that. Most likely because his number has been blocked by his father. Jackson missed his mother and his home, the comfort he had there. Now he had nothing that comforted him - besides his alcohol.

But even the alcohol didn’t help drowning out the presence of the other person within this apartment.

Weeks passed and Jackson continued to ignore your presence to the best of his abilities. He left the room when you entered, locked himself inside of his own room or turned up the music so you couldn’t talk to him - even though he noticed you didn’t even try anymore. Not that your glances of pity were any better.

The only positive thing Jackson could think of was the fact you barely stayed at the apartment. He heard you leaving early in the morning whenever another nightmare had woken him up and prevented him from falling asleep again. Slowly but surely he could remember your schedule - not just from the times you came and go, but also because he listened to some of your phone calls in the kitchen where you whined about your several jobs - and knew when to avoid being outside of his room.

At least he thought he knew your schedule by now.

As he thought you’d be out until the late hours of the night, Jackson had caved to Bambam’s begging and constant phone terror. Surely he would have preferred to meet Bambam in a restaurant but the younger man insisted on visiting him at his new home.

Though Jackson wouldn’t call this his home. It didn’t feel like home. There was nothing that belonged to him or showed he lived there as well. He didn’t even unpack his luggage except for his Whiskey, which he promptly placed on the couch table with two glasses he had found.

“It’s good to see you, man!” Bambam greeted him boisterously when he arrived and pushed himself past Jackson, immediately taking everything he saw in. “Never thought you’d live in a place like this. How are you even alive, man?”

Jackson didn’t answer and simply sat down on the couch, filling both glasses up with the alcohol. He downed his own glass and refilled it before he offered the second glass to his friend, who merrily continued talking. Some things didn’t change and Bambam being able to distract him from his misery was one of the things.

Jackson leaned back and nursed the glass of alcohol in his hand while he listened with a content expression, watching Bambam avidly moving his hands as he retold some party he had gone to.

He had no idea how long the both of them had been talking but when his eyes shifted to the corner of the living room, he noticed you standing there with a confused expression. Jackson immediately tensed, notifying Bambam about your presence.

Bambam turned his head and locked eyes with you. His plump lips stretched into a wide smile. “Hello beautiful!”

Jackson saw you frown and shortly glanced down at your attire. He could guess you questioned whether you actually looked beautiful and not like some sort of sleep-deprived zombie.

“I’m Bambam! Jackson’s best friend. I’m so glad you took him in! You have no idea how worried I was when he didn’t arrive at my place that night and I just couldn’t reach him.” Bambam patted on the couch right next to him, inviting you to join their little conversation. “It took ages for me to convince Jackson to invite me! Can you believe it? During all these months he refused to invite me, telling me it wasn’t my standard.” Bambam shot a dirty look towards Jackson and clicked his tongue before he turned with the same wide grin back to you. “I think your tiny apartment is very charming. It definitely shows your own style.”

You simply nodded while Jackson rolled his eyes at Bambam’s antics, knowing full well he loved being overly dramatic.

“Beautiful, you should join us. We just talked about the latest gossip. Maybe it would be really fun to hear your opinion over a cup of tea?”

Jackson tensed and glared at Bambam. He desperately wanted to cuss at his friend and tell him to shut up, instead he only gritted his teeth and turned his attention to your form.

“Thank you for the invitation”, you said softly, trying to smile as sincere as possible, “I can make you two a cup of tea but I can’t join you two. I wanted to go job hunting since I have a day off.”

Jackson frowned upon hearing your answer, his initial glare vanishing from his features. On one hand he felt relieved you weren’t joining the conversation. On the other hand your reasoning confused him. If he remembered it correctly you already had two main jobs next to your college classes and the additional dog walking you just took on a week ago. There was no way you could add another job.

You excused yourself and walked into the kitchen, preparing the two cups of tea and leaving the two men somewhat alone again.

“Didn’t you just say she already works several jobs?” Bambam leaned over the couch as he whispered to his friend, keeping you in his sight out of the corner of his eye.

“I did.”

“Why would she search for another one then?”

Jackson shrugged with his shoulders. “Beats me.”

“Don’t you two talk with each other?” Bambam fully turned to Jackson, eyeing him with a glint of suspicion in his eyes. “You really shut everyone out, huh?”

“She’s a stranger. I didn’t shut her out.”

“This woman is your roommate. And even though I don’t understand their world completely, I know that roommates are supposed to communicate with each other. In some dramas they even work together and share tasks and help each other out.” Bambam sighed dreamily, drifting off into the world of his dramas.

“I gave her a check. That should be more than enough help.” Jackson grunted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Bambam’s words stung unexpectedly and it bugged Jackson more than he wanted to admit.

“Is the check even decked? I would have thought your father cut every tie between you and your family. Especially the money tie.”

Jackson tensed again, dread filling his body like a darkness covering his whole being. It clawed at his throat, creating a big lump inside of it to restrict Jackson’s breathing. His hands felt clammy out of nowhere and he desperately tried to wipe them dry on his pants again, placing his now empty glass back on the table.

“Maybe you should start talking with her”, Bambam hissed before he straightened again and smiled at your returning form. “You’re such a thoughtful host, beautiful.”

Jackson watched you place the two cups on the table, hesitating momentarily as you noticed the whiskey on it. For a split second your gaze met his but you quickly diverted it again, smiling awkwardly and saying your goodbye before you left the living room.

Only after Jackson heard the click of the door to your room did he look back at Bambam, a small pout forming on his lips. “How am I supposed to talk to her?”

“You could have started with a simple thank you just now instead of glaring at her like she is the evil in personification, man.” Bambam snickered softly and shook his head, ignoring Jackson’s prominent pout. “How do you normally start talking to others?”

Jackson slumped down on the couch, arms still crossed over his chest. “I don’t. People know who I am, they flock around me and start talking. Mostly trying to impress me and I simply tolerate their presence.”

Bambam snickered again. “You gotta work on that, man.”

And Jackson tried working on it but it never got past a short greeting and a quick goodbye. The fact you barely stayed at the apartment, now turned out to be a burden more than a blessing. The rare moments you were in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea while working on some stuff for your college courses, got quickly interrupted by your phone buzzing obnoxiously.

Jackson mostly just stood in the doorway, desperately trying to find something he could say besides the simple ‘hey’. Though the second he mustered the courage to ask you, your phone buzzed and you excused yourself, telling him work was calling before you dismissed yourself into your room.

More times passed and Jackson grew more and more frustrated. How could it be that complicated to hold one conversation? He even tried waiting for you but you would only prepare your cup of tea silently in his presence - not initiating a conversation at all.

When Jackson complained towards Bambam about it, lying on the mattress and staring up at the white-ish ceiling, he was met with laughter. “At least one of us is having fun”, he grumbled into the phone and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Who would have thought that the infamous Jackson Wang isn’t able to talk to his roommate?”

“I tried, man, I tried.”

“Jacks, my man, it’s alright”, Bambam reassured him, barely suppressing the giggling in his voice, “you just need to blow off some steam. Let me send you a number. They will redirect you to one of their workers, who will help you to have a good time. All anonymous. You can even practise your conversation skills.”

“Fine.” Jackson placed his arm over his eyes, sulking about the fact that Bambam’s solution wasn’t really a solution for his problem. Yet, he might get a clear head from this and find a real solution afterwards.

Bambam immediately sent him the phone number after they cut the phone call, adding a dozen of suggestive smileys in the message as well as a small payment so Jackson could use the service.

Jackson stared at the number, his thumb hovering over the call button. His eyes wandered to the digital clock on the nightstand, showing it was close to midnight. He cursed under his breath and pressed the button, holding the phone to his ear as he waited with baited breath.

“Secret phone call, anonymous and discreet, how can I help you?” The sultry voice of a woman greeted him, waiting patiently for Jackson to answer.

Once everything was sorted out the woman explained the system of the Secret phone call company. “I’ll connect you with one of our girls now. After you two are done, she will send you a message, offering you to become her future customer. If you don’t want that, simply call this number again and we will find you a new sweetheart.”

It rang one, two, three times before the call got reconnected. “Hey”, a soft voice spoke into the phone, “you can call me baby. I’ll be your girl for as long as you want me. How can I call you?”

Jackson’s breath hitched. The voice felt familiar but he couldn’t put a finger on it. “Uhm”, he hesitated, feeling he shouldn’t say his real name. “I’m, well, you can call me, uhm.”

The soft giggle on the other end of the line made Jackson’s heart do summersaults inside his chest. “Maybe we can figure that out while we talk? What would you like to do today?”

“A friend of mine said I should blow off some steam”, Jackson grumbled, pout prominent in his tone.

“Awe, such a thoughtful friend. Are you having a hard time?”

Jackson swallowed harshly. He wasn’t sure whether the question was intended to have a double meaning or not. “The worst”, he answered, keeping it casual - despite his free hand wandering down to his crotch. Something about that soft voice made his dick twitch.

“How can I help you to feel better?”

“Fuck”, Jackson exhaled slowly, picturing he wasn’t alone in this room anymore.

“Would it help you if I massaged your shoulders?”

Jackson hummed softly. “Only if you straddle my lap while doing so.”

“I- I can do that.”

Jackson pressed his palm down on his hardening cock, imagining the woman on the other side of the line sitting on his lap now. She sounded so innocent with her questions and that sweet, sweet voice. Feeling bold due to the anonymity, Jackson spoke up again: “Would you unbutton my shirt for me, baby?”

He heard the shaky inhale, before she agreed. Jackson quickly unbuttoned his own shirt, brushing it away from his chest. The cool air hit his skin and sent small shivers throughout his body.

“Is there any-anything else I could help you with so you can relax?”

“Would you undress for me, baby?” Jackson bit on his lower lip, eyes sealed shut as he imagined a body to the voice, slowly stripping above him. He intently listened to the rustling of fabric until it got silent. “Did you only take off your shirt?”

“Ye-yes”, the voice admitted hesitantly, “but I didn’t wear a bra or pants. So- so I’m only in my panties now.”

“Shit”, Jackson cursed and quickly fumbled with his pants, pushing his free hand down and into his boxers. “You’re too adorable, baby.” He grabbed his dick and pulled it out, pumping himself several times. “Do you have another idea that might help me relax?” By now Jackson just needed to hear that soft voice, he wanted to hear soft whimpers and shaky breaths while he pictured fucking her.

“Would rocking my hips help?”

“Yes, baby, definitely”, Jackson sighed, gripping his shaft a little tighter. “Can you touch yourself? Pretending you’re rocking on my hard dick?” Jackson’s eyes rolled to the back of his head when he heard the soft whimpers on the other side of the line. “That’s it baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Soon enough Jackson came over his own stomach, squeezing his cock empty with every spurt. He inhaled deeply before he leaned on his elbows and looked down at his chest and lower stomach. White strings of cum painted his upper body. “You created quite the mess, baby”, he chuckled and dropped back on the mattress, quietly listening to the fast breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Jackson quickly spoke into the phone, “I, uhm, I actually enjoyed this. Thank you.”

A soft laugh came through the phone. “I’m glad, I liked it too.”

“Yeah?” Jackson piped up, staring up at the ceiling again. “Could we do this again? Tomorrow, same time?”

“Of course.”

“Great! Well, uhm, I guess I should hang up now.” Jackson laughed awkwardly. “I still have to clean up a little.”

The soft laugh and quiet goodbye were the last things Jackson heard before he cut the call, dropping his arm and phone onto the mattress. He stared at the ceiling, mind still racing with thoughts about what just happened.

He conversed with a person, who didn’t know who he was. Kinda conversed. At least he talked with somebody. Jackson had to admit, it felt nice speaking to someone, who didn’t immediately judge him.

While Jackson continued to call the number and talk with Baby nearly every night, he made little to no progress with you. And knowing the payment from Bambam wouldn’t last forever let his mood plummet even more. He needed his dad to forgive him.

Jackson curled into himself on the mattress and grabbed his phone, dialling the number like second nature. “Hey baby”, he whispered once the call connected.

“Hey”, her strangled voice greeted him.

Jackson piped up immediately, sitting on his bed now with a deep frown. “What happened?” He heard the soft sniffles on the other side of the phone, pressing for an answer.

“Nothing really. We should focus on you anyway.”

Part of Jackson knew his past self would have done exactly that but over the time he had talked to this soft voice he had developed feelings. So now he wouldn’t simply dismiss her condition.

He heard a choked laugh followed by more sniffles. “It’s just” - a deep sigh - “I’m not cut out for this job.”

“Why not? You’re doing amazing!”

She laughed again, less choked up this time. “You’re the only one that thinks so. I just got yelled at by some geezer because I wasn’t moaning loud enough for him.” Jackson heard the soft hiccup, realising she actually cried. “I never wanted to do this job but without it I can’t earn enough money.”

“I can pay you”, Jackson blurted out - realising a second too late that he had no means to actually do that. He cursed himself for not thinking before speaking.

“I couldn’t ask that from you. I just - I just need to endure this a little longer.”

Jackson wanted to say something, wanted to cheer her up again but for once he didn’t know what to say to her. The worry about money and jobs faintly reminded him of you and a pang of guilt hit his stomach.

“You didn’t sound so chipper either. What’s on your mind?”

“A lot”, Jackson admitted as he laid down on the mattress again. “My father kicked me out of my home and I haven’t been in contact with my family ever since.” He sighed deeply. “I miss my mom.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there a way for your father to reconsider?”

Jackson scoffed and shook his head. “Probably not. This stubborn old man doesn’t even consider me as his son anymore. All that because I drove his car into the pool during a party.”

“You what?” Jackson heard the shocked inhale, followed by a disbelieving chuckle. “Oh wow, my parents would have buried me alive.”

“It wasn’t even his favourite car.” Jackson pouted momentarily before a small smile stretched over his lips.

“Oh, I see”, her tone became teasing, “then it isn’t that bad.”

“Right?”

She laughed softly and Jackson could imagine her shaking her head at him. “Did you ever consider that your dad wants you to take responsibility for your actions?”

“How should I do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe work diligently instead of partying and driving cars into pools.” She giggled lightly. “Or are you asking how to take responsibility?”

Jackson grinned into the darkness of his room. “Maybe”, he whispered, “Is there a way to train it?”

“Maybe”, she whispered back, her breath hitching softly. “Would you take responsibility for my heart pounding so quickly whenever I talk to you?”

Jackson exhaled loudly, barely able to contain the excitement coursing through his whole body. “So you’re saying I’m responsible for that, baby?”

“Yes.”

The answer wasn’t more than a breath but that was enough to make his own heart flutter like crazy. “And how should I take responsibility for that?”

“I don’t know”, she giggled quietly and Jackson knew she played coy.

“How about making you feel really good tonight? Would you like that, baby?” Upon hearing her soft hum Jackson continued speaking. He guided you with his words, telling you exactly what you should do.

It started from stripping down, to twisting and pinching the nipples down to playing with that sweet little pussy.

Jackson stroked himself lazily, more focused on her moans and irregular breaths. If he concentrated enough, he could even hear the lewd noises created by her slicked fingers going in and out of her core. “That’s it, baby”, he exhaled slowly. “Try curling your fingers now whenever you push them deep inside.”

The high pitched whine he received afterwards was everything to Jackson. “That’s it, keep doing that and right when it feels like too much, cum.”

Her whimpers quickened and turned desperate, while the lewd noises got louder. She choked on thin air, followed by a long moan. “Fuck me”, she whispered after a few moments, slowly coming down from her high.

“Next time”, Jackson teased, finishing his own pleasure with a few more strokes. He cleaned himself up and dropped back down on the mattress, silently listening to her cleaning up as well.

“Do you think my father would forgive me when I pay the repair costs of the car?” Jackson dreaded the end of the phone call, fearing he would feel as worthless and unimportant again.

“I’m not sure”, her soft voice sounded through the darkness, “but it would be a beginning. Either way I’m cheering for you.”

Jackson grinned, feeling how his heart eased down again. “Thank you.” He placed one of his hands over his chest. “Your words really cheer me up.”

“I’m your girl for as long as you want me.”

‘I’ll always want you.’ That’s what Jackson thought but he was too afraid saying these words out loud. At least not yet. “I’ll let my girl sleep for tonight now. And update you next time.” With that Jackson bid his goodbye and cut the call, staring for a moment longer up towards the ceiling.

He needed a job to start turning things around.

“I need you to help me get a job”, Jackson blurted out the second he came into the kitchen the next morning, looking at you with determination in his eyes and completely forgetting to greet you first.

“Huh?”

Jackson rolled his eyes before he sat down on the opposite side from you. “You’re working several jobs, don’t you? Help me introduce myself to one of your bosses so I can work there too.”

You stared at him as if he had grown a second head. “I, uh, what?”

“I need a job and I’m asking for your help.” Jackson pursed his lips, how could you be so dense.

“I guess you can join me at the café”, you wondered out loud, tapping your lips with the spoon in your hand. “The boss is constantly complaining about not having enough staff and I can’t take more shifts.”

“Great! Let’s do this!”

You got assigned to ease Jackson into the job at the café. Jackson wasn’t too fond of that idea at first, not wanting to make a fool out of himself in front of you. Though your everlasting patience and easy to follow explanations helped him learn quickly.

Soon enough Jackson was able to take over shifts without your help until he almost worked full time at the café.

Having the same job as you had some other perks as well. It made it easier to talk to you at the apartment when both of you were in the kitchen or living room. Even Bambam noticed the slight shift between you.

“I got my first paycheck today”, Jackson mumbled into the phone, staring down at the piece of paper. The amount was nothing compared to what he was used to but it felt like so much more.

“That’s wonderful”, her soft voice resonated through his whole body. “What are you going to use it for?”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders, suddenly thinking of you. “I guess I’m using it for the right thing.”

She giggled softly. “Sounds like you’re taking responsibility.”

“Am I?” Jackson chuckled lowly and shook his head. “Maybe I am.”

The very next day he confronted you in the kitchen again, handing you his paycheck. “For rent and stuff.”

You stared down at the check and then back up at him again. “All of it? You can’t be serious.”

“Lived here long enough without doing a thing”, Jackson mumbled and avoided looking at you. “I don’t have any other expenses for now. I want to take responsibility and help out. Though I might need some teaching for that.”

You smiled at him, tilting your head a little. “I can do that”, you said softly as you placed your hand on his lower arm and squeezed it reassuringly.

Jackson stared at you, the ghost of your touch still on his arm. Something within his mind bugged him about this situation but he couldn’t put a finger on it, knowing he never experienced a situation like this before. His gaze dropped down to your lips and back up again, while his heart started pounding against his ribcage.

Was he just projecting or wishfully thinking - maybe even hoping - the voice that helped him so much all this time on the phone might be yours after all? He quickly shook his head before he nodded slowly and thanked you, going back into his room.

His heart nearly jumped out of his throat as he waited for the phone call to connect. Throughout the whole day he had been thinking about it and Jackson desperately needed to get that thought out of his head again. “Hey baby.”

“Hey, it’s good to hear you again”, her tone was light as she spoke. “You made me miss you.”

Jackson laughed quietly. “I called yesterday and we both know I can’t call during the day.”

“I still missed you.”

“Oh, did my baby miss me? How can I make it up to you, hm?” Jackson teased as he palmed himself through his pants. “I have a feeling you’re a little desperate for me, aren’t you?”

She breathed shakily, her lust apparent even for Jackson on the other side of the line.

“Tell me, baby, what do you want?”

“Want you.”

Jackson exhaled and threw his head back, pressing even harder down on his cock. “Oh baby”, he mumbled into the phone, his voice husky with lust. “Do me a favour and play with yourself. Don’t push your fingers in though. Not yet at least.” He groaned upon hearing the soft whimpers, his own hand quickly going into his pants as well. Jackson closed his eyes, fully emerging into this little fantasy. “Shit, I love those tiny moans and whimpers. You’re driving me crazy, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Jackson, please.”

Jackson stilled, his eyes wide open. “What?” The line went eerily silent and before he could say anything else the call got cut.

He barely noticed how he dropped his phone, his body moving on autopilot as he burst into your room. Jackson stared at you, sitting in the corner of your bed, one hand clutched over your mouth and eyes widened in shock.

You ever so slowly pulled your hand away from your lips. “I’m so sorry…”

Jackson quickly crossed the distance between you two, leaning on the bed with one knee and grabbing your face so he could pull you into a deep kiss.

You yelped in surprise but it got drowned out by his lips crashing against yours. Your hands held onto his shirt, unconsciously pulling Jackson closer against your form.

Only when the both of you needed air did you separate, panting heavily. Jackson caressed your cheek with his thumb, his gaze jumping between your eyes. “I wanted to do that for so long.” He kissed you again. Now with less force. Instead Jackson took his time exploring you and your needs with that kiss, moving you around the bed until you were flat on your back and he hovered above you.

Jackson kissed down your jawline and your neck, murmuring sweet promises against your skin. One of his hands wandered downwards along your side, playing with the hem of your shirt where his knuckles brushed over your bare stomach every now and then.

You reacted so well to Jackson’s soft ministrations, writhing, moaning and whimpering underneath him. “You should quit that job”, he whispered, pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach. He littered the bare skin with kisses, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your boobs. “Those geezers don’t deserve you, don’t deserve hearing you.”

You groaned and arched your back, pleading for him to touch you. With swift hands you shimmied out of your shirt and pants, being almost completely naked underneath him.

Jackson leaned down and kissed your breasts - even nipped at your perked nipples gently. “I can’t believe you were this close all the time.” He groaned from the lust building inside of him. “You helped me all this time, brightened my otherwise dull day.” Jackson placed his hands on your knees and pushed your legs apart, positioning himself between them. “Let me repay you for that, love. What do you want?”

“Want you”, you breathed out, gaze clouded with desire. “Please, I want you.”

Jackson cursed and nearly ripped your panties off. He inhaled your sweet scent, groaning with want, as he pushed his tongue between your folds.

You wanted to shut your legs but Jackson easily held them open, continuing to fuck you with his tongue. Your choked gasps of pleasure turned into moans and whining as he started circling your nub with his thumb. “Oh, Jackson, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, please.”

“What do you need, love?” He asked without moving away from your core, continuing to pleasure you while he waited for your answer. “You’re so wet for me and you taste so incredibly sweet.”

“Please, Jackson, please”, you threw your head back, quivering under his touch, “I need your cock, please. Please, fuck me.”

Once again Jackson cursed and pushed himself away, smirking upon hearing your disappointed whining. He discarded his own clothes as fast as possible, not paying attention to where he threw them, and crawled back over you. He lowered his hips, rubbing his thick shaft along your folds until it was covered in your wetness.

With one hand Jackson aligned the head of his cock with your entrance, carefully pushing into you. “So fucking tight”, he grunted, his own pleasure spiking up like crazy. After he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, Jackson leaned down and kissed you. He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face and simply admired the sight underneath him. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.”

Your walls clenched around his shaft, making Jackson groan from the sensation. “Please fuck me”, you mumbled softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“With pleasure.” Jackson pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained inside you, just to slam his whole length back into you. He pumped into you over and over again, eliciting one sweet sound from you after another.

Jackson felt your walls clenching around his dick, keeping it in a vice grip. The second you screamed his name and spasmed underneath him, Jackson pulled out. He rubbed your nub with his thumb while he pumped his hard cock until his seed spurted out and painted your stomach white.

Breathing heavily Jackson got up and grabbed some tissues from your desk, coming back and cleaning you up. Afterwards he plopped down next to you, wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you close.

“Jackson?” You asked hesitantly, turning in his hold until you looked at him. “What does this mean for us now?”

“Like I said, hopefully you quit that job. I don’t think I could share you any longer.” He grinned lovingly and kissed your forehead, the grin getting even wider when you giggled. “I’ll do anything to hear you laugh, love.”

“You were the only one keeping me there.”

Jackson growled playfully and nipped at your neck. “You have me here now.”

“Even if your dad forgives you?”

“Even then. Just be prepared for my mom to come over at any given time.” He laughed lightly and kissed you again. “But until that happens it’s only the two of us.”

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

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thefangirlofhp · 6 months

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31. what if: croissants and paintings (a short what-if version of apaixonar)

“The toys, too, Winnie.”

“Really?”

“You haven’t ever touched some of these. They’re going in the pile.”

The five year old twists her mouth, dropping the t-shirt she’d been making a sorry job of folding in order to huff and puff her way across the crowded mattress and climb off. Azriel doesn’t comment on her undoing some of the folded piles as she approaches the open closet, and assesses the chaos of remaining clothes, toys and little girl accessories that Azriel never imagined would end up being what bankrupts him but after embarking on this little discovering adventure in his daughter’s room, he’s realized most of his wallet’s emptied itself right here.

“Is this cause I didn’t tidy up?” Winnie cranes her neck as she looks back up at him. He sets down a folded red shirt that she’s probably worn once as a two-year-old and tilts her head back up.

“Will you keep it clean if I say yes?”

Her eyes glimmer. “Maybe.”

It’s only through the grueling and gruesome process of being a single-father every consecutive day for nearly five years now that Azriel manages to steel his facial expression. Of course, prior to this permanent occupation, he’d been just as capable of doing so—for different reasons. Poker games, lies, and the general detachment of society that comes from introversion, but he’s had to learn to keep a particularly tight lock on his reactions in-front this mini-human copying and pasting every behavior of his into her own system.

He’s not sure how happy he’d be if after all this toiling and hardwork, his daughter would follow in her uncle’s footsteps and end up a corporate lawyer. Oh God, he’s terrified of the shark-like gleam in her eyes turning its attention from animal species towards corporate law and finance.

Winnie grins at the flat expression he gives her. At least he still has the I Raised You card in his arsenal.

“I pwomise to keep it clean. Don’t throw away all my things. Petty please?”

Azriel slides a dress off its hanger, tosses the plastic away into the growing pile on the floor and flaps it out. “I’m not punishing you. We’re donating what we don’t need to people who’ll need them. And Aunt Feyre is going to need some of your baby clothes for their baby.”

“Cause of the baby in her tummy?”

“Uhu.”

Winnie steps into the closet, larger than any child’s closet reasonably need be, and crouches before the shelves. “Why won’t they buy?”

“There’s no need, if your clothes are hardly worn. It’s a gesture, and Feyre said she’d love to take some.”

“Gesture?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter for a second as he breathes in. It’s really therapeutic, possibly—maybe. A chore he can turn his mind off whilst doing, to busy his hands without having to think about anything. Until the chatterbox decided she was done with her coloring, and that shadowing him around the flat was much more entertaining.

“Yep,” he rubs his face, assessing the carnage that is his little girl’s room. On a good day, it is akin to a battlefield. A time like this, where she’s taken it as free reign to open everything that had a lid or door or drawer and throw the contents of everything everywhere? He imagines an escape room is simpler.

But if he’s honest with himself, which Azriel likes to think he is, her presence is something that had made him nearly sigh with relief. If he can’t hear himself think, then he won’t think, and then this will just be a trivial cleaning out of a room that is long overdue such treatment. The clothes in his hands are items to fold up, with no sentiment, and put in boxes for donation. They are not Winnie’s first dress, or the outfit she’d worn to her first visit to the lake. They are not one-month old and two-month old clothes that Ellie had cried over, somehow moved by rampant hormones to find such small items tear-jerking.

“Are we gonna give away my drawings?” Winnie suddenly asks fearfully, shooting to her feet after coming across a container of old art-supplies.

“No, no,” he instantly reassures her before her hair can turn grey. “Who’d we give them to?”

Winnie stares intensely at him. “People want ‘em.”

He holds back his mouth from twitching. “Do they?”

It’s eerie, how her eyes get so large and round and earnest. “Right?!”

“O-Of course, yeah. Definitely.”

“Aunnie Fey-Fey said they’re art. And-and people want art, right? We gonna give ‘em away?”

“Well do you want to give them away?”

“NO!”

“We’re not, then. Calm down, Picasso.”

She lets out a comically exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried there for a second!”

“Sure thing, Bunny.”

It’s probably a sad thing, spending his Saturday clearing out his daughter’s room and his own wardrobe for the donation Feyre’s asked him to contribute to, but what is probably sadder is that he’s relieved and very much content with staying in, cleaning and doing chores. Cassian has such an opinion.

“I can’t tell what’s sadder,” his friend remarks on the phone as Azriel loads the washing machine, boxes all taped and labelled and Winnie’s room unrealistically clean. He’d forgotten the color of her carpet was such a beautiful tone after he vacuumed it. “This being the highlight of your day, or the poor kid locked up in there with you.”

“Rhys is going to take her and Felix out in an hour,” Azriel turns the machine on. “They’re having a sleepover.”

“Sweet! Let’s get together and have a drink, then. Come on, night out.”

“Nah, man, I have assignments to mark and an exam to write.”

And isn’t he ecstatic about it. He’s been looking forward to this particular day since such sleepover’s been arranged, and he realized that all his chores and tasks neatly lined up to clear this day for catching up on his job and staying in. Maybe he’ll watch trashy reality television, or an even shittier crime show without having to worry about the Eavesdropper Supreme absorbing everything like a fucking sponge.

The possibilities excite him.

“Every word coming out of you is just sadder than the one before,” Cassian sighs, as if he heard Azriel’s thoughts.

“Give your liver a fucking break,” Azriel snaps, defensive over the impossible breach of his private thoughts. “You’re getting married in two fucking weeks and you’ve drunk more alcohol than your fiancé has in her entire alcoholic years.”

“Hey.”

Azriel takes the call off speakers and puts the phone to his ears as he walks out the room. “Speaking of, have you spoken to the resort?”

“That’s why I called. I did, and they’d be more than happy to keep you lot for a few more days. I think dropping some names did the trick.”

“Whatever gets you there,” he replies, entering the living room and immediately feeling his eye twitch at the sight that greets him. “Oi, Winnie, Rebel, off the iPad. Now. Read a book or something.”

Both girls turn their guilty eyes to him, as Winnie slides the device away underneath a cushion as if she wasn’t just caught red-handed. “Sorry, Daddy.”

He throws himself onto the couch next to them with a rush of breath whooshing out of him. “Are you happy with everything? No-one’s being a menace? Cake’s fine? Venue fine? No hurdles?”

“It’s going perfect,” Cassian answers, with the smile audible in his raspy voice. “Don’t want to jinx it, but there’s nothing to complain about. I really got to thank you properly for that wedding planner—she’s a gift from God.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty good.”

“Didn’t she do your wedding?”

“Mhm.”

Ellie’s best friend, Cressida. It’s Azriel’s genius gift to the couple; instead of having to worry his over-worried mind over a meaningful gift, he got Cressida to plan their wedding from A to Z. Nesta got uncharacteristically quietly when he let them know the famous planner had taken them on—he cannot take entire credit for the idea, even though he knows Cressida to be one of the top sharks in her industry; he’d overheard Nesta and Feyre after the engagement announcement discussing it and, well, for what it's worth he’d always meant to call his late wife’s best-friend.

Azriel breathes in, reaches out a scarred hand that fusses with Winnie’s fine hair as she flops across his lap, listening in on his conversation.

“She did a great job on yours.”

“Mhm.”

He focuses on Winnie’s tresses.

“You all-right?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You’re just sounding a little mono-syllabled.”

“Nah… I’m…Just a little busy. Hey, Bunny, don’t fall asleep. Uncle Rhys will be here any moment.”

“Sure,” Cassian replies smoothly, in a way that says roger that to whatever he’s interpreted in his tone with his freakishly peaked emotional insight. Sometimes Azriel wishes Cassian would spare him some, but then tells himself that what little sensitivity he possesses provides him with enough grief. “Anyway, the resort will have you for the week, same rooms. How’s that sound?”

“Brilliant,” Azriel replies, looking forward to the week following Cassian’s wedding, already feeling himself relax a little at the prospect of napping under the sun at the beach, getting to subtly pass Winnie on to his brother and sister-in-law, finally getting to read that interesting-looking book one of his students left behind in his class that was never collected. Fresh drinks, shorts, loose white shirts and permanently hiding behind a hat and sunglasses to nap all day without being severely judged, everyday. Not having to worry about cooking, washing, or tidying up. He does appreciate some time off, and with the semester he’s had, he’s more than looking forward to it.

___

“What d’you mean you’re closed?”

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Bougainvillea, but some of the kids got sick and it’s protocol to stay home for a few days to prevent it spreading to other children and the staff.”

Azriel can’t believe his ears, or the preschool teacher’s sweet voice. “They’re kids, they’re supposed to have their faces sneezed on.”

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Bougainvillea. After the pandemic, we’ve had to reinforce some stricter protocols.”

He blinks at the fridge covered in magnets holding up drawings, grocery lists and some photographs. Winnie stares at him, unblinking, as she chews on a sliced apple half-heartedly. He turns to his daughter, as the preschool hangs up, and it’s all he can do to not hysterically laugh at his misfortune like a madman.

“Imma stay home?” Winnie hopefully asks.

“Dream on, Bunny,” he mutters, dialing Feyre’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you can have Winnie for the day. Her preschool’s running a self-imposed quarantine because a kid coughed yesterday.”

“Told you not to put her in a pretentious fancy school like Velaris Stars.”

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t; I have meetings with clients and I need to finish a commission before noon.”

Fucking hell.

“Why don’t I call Felix’s school, see if they’ll take her for the day? The principal loves me.”

“Would you, please?” he glances at his wrist-watch, and realizes he’s already cutting it close. “I owe you.”

“No problem.”

He slides his phone into his pocket, gulps down a bitter mouthful of yesterday’s cold coffee and clicks his fingers at his daughter simultaneously while dumping the remaining coffee in the sink. “C’mon. Shoes.”

“I really don’t think we should leave Rebel alone,” Winnie protests as she skips out the kitchen. “She’s sad all alone, maybe I’ll stay with her?”

Azriel snatches his suit jacket off the back of the couch, grabs Winnie’s yellow and green backpack and her lunchbox as he follows her to the front door of the penthouse. “Rebel’s being left alone unsupervised all day in an entire flat, Winnie. I think she’d be sad at you joining her.”

Winnie humphs, taking her sweet time in stomping her feet into her Velcro shoes. “But what if—where am I gonna be all day?”

“Let me worry about that, Bunny, all-right?” he opens the door, and locks it shut behind them quickly. Feyre brings no good news, as Felix’s school has a strict policy against such things and Azriel really wants to write a memo for all preschools and primary schools to remind them not to take such a big fucking piss of themselves—strict policies and protocols, his ass. He wouldn’t bat an eye if a random person sat in on one of his lectures. Back in his day, he wasn’t even in preschool. Preschool was Mom’s shitty two-bedroom apartment and their shitty neighborhood block. And back then, school was an even shittier public school full of kids that no-one noticed if one was missing.

“Hey, heard you’re in a bit of a pickle,” Rhys pipes on the phone, while Azriel and Winnie sit out their options in a quaint familiar coffee shop in the city while Azriel plots his escape. “Preschool bailed on you?”

“Mhm,” Azriel monitors the trickling bleary-eyed morning crowd out in the street, mouth smudged in the palm of his hand. “I’m waiting on Cassian to see if he can help me out. Wait, hold on.”

His friend’s voice trickles in through the second line. “Sorry, man. Schedule booked the entire day, and we don’t have any kid activities before 2pm.”

“Thanks anyway, Cass, sorry to bother you this early, I’ve got Rhys on the other line. I’ll get back to you. Yeah, Rhys, it’s no good with Cassian either.”

His brother-in-law tuts. “Why not take her with you to work? Would your Dean mind?”

“Looks like I’m going to,” Azriel realizes, loathe to let his daughter tag along to his classes which are nowhere near suitable for her to listen in on.

But surely he is overestimating Winnie’s mental capacity to understand university-level criminology classes when his own students struggle on good days to wrap their heads around what he’s teaching? Azriel fucking wishes. The kid soaks up everything she sees, hears and touches, with whatever degree of understanding she’s reconciled it with—he’s terrified what she’ll make of his material. “It’s not the Dean I’m afraid of, Rhys. But having her tag along…”

“Yeah…leave her in your office?”

“I freaked out about leaving her asleep in her crib the first years of her life, you want me to leave her in my office at the university for five hours?”

“Put on a movie, headphones, give her a coloring book and she’s all set for the entire day. Trust me.”

Azriel lets loose a whistling breath, slumping back in his seat and threading his fingers into his hair. “Sure.”

“Hey, you can always bail on your classes.”

“I kind of used all my excuses when she got sick last month and it’s revision week today. The only time these kids actually show up to class.”

“I don’t know what to say, you’re in the deep end, mate.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, I’ll call you later.”

“Say hi to her from me.”

“Bunny, Uncle Rhys says hi.”

“Hi, Uncle Rhys,” Winnie grins. “I miss our sleepover already!”

Rhys laughs. “Me too, kid. We’ll do it again sometime soon.”

Azriel lets his phone clatter on the small table, and rubs his face roughly before standing up abruptly. “C’mon, let’s order.”

Winnie trails after him dutifully, reaching out to grab hold of his scarred hand as they wait in line at the counter and study the glass display in the meantime.

“Daddy, am I a bourbon?” she asks, as her eyes roam over all sorts of muffins and pastries.

“Come again?”

“A bourbon,” she repeats, looking up. He frowns. She raises her eyebrows. “You know, like-like a problem.”

“Oh, you mean burden.”

She stares up at him. “That’s what I say.”

“No, no, you’re not,” he stops himself from smiling. “Why’d you think so?”

“Cause I’m giving you a headache.”

He lets his smile loose. “Your socks are a problem. But Daddy’s just cursed with constant cluster headaches, so don’t take it personally.”

“You look kinda mad,” she points out. “And sad.”

“I didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all,” he turns to the barista taking orders and gives her a smile. “Morning, Cer.”

“Morning, Az,” Cerridwen smiles, and leans over to give Winnie one. “And good morning to you too, Winnie. How’re you?”

“I’m good today,” Winnie nods seriously, thumbs hooked into the straps of her backpack as she assesses the pastries. “But Daddy stayed up all night watching bad movies and didn’t get sleep so now I’m his bourbon.”

Cerridwen’s dark glimmering eyes turn to him, begging for an explanation as she holds back a full-blown grin.

He shrugs. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Well, Winnie, what would you like today?”

His kid tilts her head. “Not sure. What do you condom, Cer?”

“Recommend,” Azriel hisses immediately, feeling himself flush hot and red, and pointedly ignores the stare from the old lady waiting behind them.

Cerridwen, to her credit, only softly giggles. “I like the lemon tarts.”

Winnie’s eyes widen. “Uncle Rhys says that’s a bad word!”

“Oh that he told you not to say?” Azriel grits his teeth. “Black coffee for me, Cer, and a chocolate croissant. Bunny?”

“I wanna cold milk and that one.”

“Coming up.”

Azriel promptly steers his kid back to their table after paying and collecting their order, and plops her straight in her chair without a word. Winnie swings her legs back and forth patiently while he cuts up her puff pastry into manageable pieces, looking around her. All of a sudden, she gasps, and points at the front door. “Daddy, look!”

He looks over, instinctively, to see her pointing at two women walking into the café and he’s about to tell her not to point or stare, but somehow the words slip his mind. His everything slips his mind, as he watches Nuala stride in through a door held open by —quite frankly—the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

Father and daughter ogle as the pair walk up to the counter, chatting animatedly together, and greeting Nuala’s twin cheerfully—a sin some would say, as no dignified person is allowed to be so cheerful, even on a bright and sunny morning such as this. The other woman’s taller than average, with a couple of inches on Nuala, her golden-brown hair tumbling in gentle waves from a ponytail down her back. Azriel doesn’t know when his mouth eased open, but he promptly snaps it shut and turns his attention back to the task at hand, while Winnie continues to openly stare.

He blinks the remnant image from his eyes, shakes the snug black leather jacket and skinny blue jeans out his mind and tells himself he’s just sleep-deprived.

Then, Winnie beams and does the worst thing a child can do in a public space. Calls out.

“Nain!”

Azriel freezes, and looks over his shoulder again to find that the woman had turned at the call, and that her brown eyes were fixed on them. His stomach flips on itself at the smile that blooms on her lips, before she briefly squeezes Nuala’s elbow with a word and comes over.

Comes over.

“Hi,” Elain Archeron, Feyre’s sister, greets with a soft sweet voice. She hasn’t got any makeup on that Azriel can see, and he thinks that it’s surely witchcraft how good she looks. “How are you doing, Winnie?”

“I’m good today,” his daughter reports seriously. “But Daddy—“

“Is pleased to see you again, Elain,” Azriel quickly cuts in, standing up abruptly, discovering that Elain’s taller-than-average height still means she’s quite shorter than him. “Uh, Azriel, Winnie’s dad. We ran into each other a few times.”

“Oh I remember you,” she pleasantly says, shaking the hand he absent-mindedly stretched out. “Wow, it’s been, how many years since I last saw you? I think Felix’s second birthday party?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. Probably too much. He stops his head. “This one was just a baby.”

Elain’s eyes soften, glancing at his daughter. “Time really flies. You should have seen my shock when I ran into her at Feyre’s place the other night. They were having a sleepover.”

“We colored dinos!” Winnie excitedly says. “Nain said I’m an artist, Daddy.”

“That you are, Bunny. So, uh, what-what brings you to town?”

Elain’s brows furrow in confusion for a brief second. “I work here. The precinct down the street?”

He blinks. Right. Criminal investigator—Nuala’s co-worker. “Right, sorry. It’s been a day.”

Her eyes dart to the clock on the wall. “It’s not 7:40 yet,” her lips faintly smile.

“And I’m ready to call it quits,” he nods. “So, uh, Nesta’s wedding—are you a… bridesmaid? Cassian mentioned something about the rehearsal—are you my bridesmaid?”

Elain tucks her lower lip between her teeth and slowly tugs on it, her face sobering slowly. “Ah…No, I’m not. Nesta didn’t ask me.”

He’s just going to have a quick lie-down in this grave he’s dug for himself.

“Oh,” why the fuck did he even ask? He didn’t give two shits about the groomsmen and bridesmaid pairing. He didn’t give a shit, point blank, about anything beyond his friend’s happiness. “Sorry, I don’t even give a shit about the wedding.”

Winnie gasps. “Bad word!”

“Put it on the tab,” he absent-mindedly tells her, followed by Winnie’s rustling through her bag for a little notebook into which she draws a new shaky strike. “Uhm, it was lovely to run into you, Elain. I don’t want to keep you.”

Elain sticks her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans and shrugs her shoulders. “Nu and I are actually bailing on the morning briefing. Shouldn’t you be taking her to school?”

“They cancelled,” Winnie answers, tucking her little flip notebook back into her bag. “Cause someone coughed.”

Elain blinks. “That seems…precautious.”

“Paranoid,” Azriel sighs.

“Where are you putting her then? You’re a lecturer at VU, right?”

He nods. “I’m taking her with me.”

Elain glances at his daughter, warily. “Don’t you teach criminology and penology?”

He grimly smiles. “Yeah. It’s…not ideal. I’ll ask one of the staff to keep an eye on her during my classes.”

Elain tilts her head then blinks. “I could do it for you.”

He freezes.

Winnie’s head snaps up, eyes wide as full-moons. “Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Pretty, pretty, prettiest please, Daddy?!”

“Sorry?”

Elain’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intervene. I was just offering to help out. I could watch her for you on campus. I’ve been meaning to check out some books from the library there, anyway.”

Is this what angels look like?

“I…aren’t you busy?”

“Honestly, it’s been a little slow, not to jinx it. And I was the detective on call last night, so I’ve got no intentions of hanging around for Helion to assign me any new cases.”

“You know, not to sound desperate or anything, but you could ask for my liver right now and I’d hand it over, no questions asked.”

Elain grins, something gorgeous and wide, and one that makes Azriel’s heart thump erratically against his will and he feels physically ill. “How ‘bout a coffee, instead?”

________________________________

the end. October 2023

#apaixonar what if #see this was meant to come out months ago but I forgot about it #:D #and with this we conclude fictober 2023 lads #flufftober 2023 #fictober23 #elriel fic #winnie archeron #rhysand #cassian #elriel #azriel #apaixonar #goodbye

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