#i almost added it to my week long queue but i was too excited to share it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snackhobi · 3 years

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this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested. It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.)

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.)

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist.

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.)

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back.

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power.

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it.

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

“Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall.

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond.

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron.

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi.

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner. There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway.

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out.

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot.

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire.

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway.

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary.

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting.

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you.

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else.

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright.

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you.

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.)

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we��d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung.

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth.

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to.

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up.

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say.

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really.

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists.

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.”

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor.

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn.

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed.

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad.

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee.

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is.

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

“Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say.

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all.

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice.

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity.

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think.

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand.

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?”

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say.

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

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Untamed (chapter 1 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Most people knew that animals were in tune with the changing seasons: migrations, sensing weather patterns, and the likes. Sometimes, that extended to people with animal-like mutations, too. For some, that meant being able to feel approaching rain. For others, that meant bodily changes in relation to the weather.

Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, when cool air swept over and the trees began to turn gold and orange, and then again in early spring, when the snow began to melt, and the sun shined bright in midday, warming the air.

He owned a cabin in the north, secluded up on a hillside in the woods, where he would honker down for the week-long occurrence. It was much more tolerable alone, far from society, where his sensitive feathers could only pick up the sounds of his abode and the wildlife outside.

The cabin smelt like amber and pine trees. He always kept the fireplace stoked. The crackling created a soothing ambiance and it gave him a worthwhile distraction. As opposed to a traditional heater, the fireplace gave him something to focus on: something to worry over so he couldn't drown in his own thoughts.

Without fail, he would go to bed at the kiss of darkness, usually in a mess of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, on his front with his wings stretched out beside him. Then, he'd wake in the early morning hours and watch the sunrise as if he had never seen it once in his life.

As poetic as it all sounded, it was more so for the sake of soothing his urges than anything else, to calm the animal side of his brain that was irritated at the very obvious thing missing from this.

But, at the same time, Hawks enjoyed it, in some ways. As stressful as a rut was, there was something soothing about the experiences. For a week, he could let go of everything.

In this cabin, he wasn't pro hero Hawks, winged hero, number 2, or anything like that. In this cabin, he was just Takami Keigo, even less than that at times. When lost to his senses, barely processing a proper thought beyond the warmth of the fire and the smell of the trees, he was just a man.

That time was approaching.

He could feel it, prickling at the base of his wings. His teeth were aching subtly with the desire to bite. Every little sound was setting him on edge. He heard your voice down the hall and it made him flinch with a sort of excitement, as if he hadn't heard you in weeks, when it had only been a day.

He already had an acute sense of smell as it was; but, it was intensified during this time. One of the trainees had burnt coffee and it nearly made him throw up. One of the sidekicks was wearing an ordinary cologne that never bothered him before; but, that morning, when he walked by, the smell made him want to punch them.

When he became irritable like that, was when he knew, especially, that time was dwindling and he needed to leave before it apexed.

"I'm heading out in a couple days," Hawks explained hastily when you stepped into his office. "I'll be gone for a week."

His harsh tone made it sound as if you were intruding on him, and he could tell that you noticed because you halted in the doorway. You were, actually, intruding. He had paperwork he needed to get done before he left. But, that wasn't the only reason.

Your presence swarmed him with thoughts; mainly, that he could bring you with him, show you the cabin. Would you like it? Of course, Hawks knew it was a natural desire to have, considering his physiological changes; but, still, the intensity of that desire was nauseating.

"Oh," you blurted, feeling nervous in his heated gaze. You weren't new to that hypnotizing, gold stare; but, it seemed a little different than usual, more intense.

"Uhm. Okay," you continued. "Was it a mission? I didn't see any briefing?"

Hawks blinked and the heated expression dissipated as if you had slapped it off him.

"No," he replied softly. "No," he added on, a little more sincerely. "I'm... going up north for a week."

He wanted to lie to you; really, any sort of bullshit would have sufficed. You had stumbled into this relationship knowing that he couldn't always give you everything, including the truth. But, for some reason, the truth felt right in this moment.

"That's good," you replied, stepping into his office to set some papers on the corner of his desk, adding more to the already impressive pile.

"You could use a vacation," you added on, stepping back, away from his desk.

It was in his nature to be perceptive, both in the way his quirk operated and by the man he chose to be: a hero, a spy, an assassin. Yet, his eyes were watching you with a sort of intensity that felt fiercer than it normally was.

Your sincerity was what bothered him. It would have been easier to blow you off if you were irritated by his secrecy. However, you, who knew better than anyone, what he endured day in and day out, was just happy that he was getting a break from it all: from being a hero.

Most heroes had a life to go home to, a family, a place where they could take off the cape for a little while. Most of the time, Hawks didn't.

He had found some solace in you. You gave him the breaks he so desperately needed; but, it was never long enough, barely a night, before the visor went back on. It wasn't fair to you, a fellow hero, to be expected to carry such a burden; yet, you seemed happy at the thought of making him feel ease, if only for a little while.

"I'm sorry," Hawks apologized.

The startled look on your face told him what you were thinking: that there was nothing to apologize for.

You didn't know about this side of him, this aspect of his mutation. That behavior sometimes seeped through. He'd get a little possessive, touchy, mouthy; but, you passed them off as just kinks. Maybe, they were kinks, and he was just making excuses for himself.

"It's something I gotta take care," he explained, as if he was rejecting something you hadn't even asked.

"Ok?" you replied softly. "Whatever you need to do, Hawks?"

He smiled one of the most pathetic smiles you had ever seen.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, tilting your head a little, looking down at him, across his desk, to where he sat opposite to where you were standing.

"You don't have to tell me," you continued. "But, you never have to do anything alone, you know?"

"Ugh-" Hawks laughed nervously. "This, I think I do."

You stared back at him with a gentle gaze; yet, he could easily catch the bit of attitude in your eyes, like you wanted to call him out, but was holding back.

Yeah, he knew. He fucking knew. You had been there through some of the hardest battles, dragged him out of burning buildings, took bullets for him.

Your first kiss was in a hospital room.

His broken arm was slung up in a cast and poking painfully into your chest, and the bandages on your neck were itching at his skin. Still, neither complained. Not when you finally, finally had each other. Not when the truth came pouring out and almost a damn year of tension boiled over.

Barely a week had passed since that moment. You didn't give your broken bodies enough time to heal before crawling into bed together. He had made love to you, so softly, with gentle words and careful touches, before flipping you over and ramming you until you saw God, wings flapping and breaking things all over the room.

"It's not a mission, or any hero business," Hawks answered, scratching at his neck nervously.

Now, you were really concerned. 'Hawks' and 'nervous' were not usually uttered in the same sentence. He knew he shouldn't tell you; but, fuck it, he wanted to. It was especially difficult when you were looking at him like that, like you would do anything for him.

"Okay?" you uttered, as if ushering him to continue.

"It's... biological," he answered carefully.

Seemingly catching an unspoken queue, you closed the door to his office and leaned against it, staring at him with a calm, inquisitive gaze.

"My... mutation-" he began, breaking off in a groan.

He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand across his face. That nervous look etched across his handsome face, was something of a spectacle, and you had to bite back a smile.

"I go into a rut twice a year," he explained hoarsely. "It's more tolerable somewhere secluded; so, I got a place up north where I tough it out."

Some feral, sick part of his brain wanted you to stupidly ask him what that was, so he could explain the insatiable desire to take you like there was no tomorrow. But, of course, you knew better than that, blinked slowly, and leaned back, a thoughtful look on your face.

"You do that alone every year?" you inquired.

"Huh?" Hawks blurted, not expecting that to be your concern.

"Is it better that way?" added on softly.

Hawks stared back at you with a stupid look on his face, eyes wide and lips parted, unblinking with the faintest tinge of pink coloring the tops of his ears.

Fuck no, it's not. He would love to have you there, to show you the home he's made over the years, to snuggle with you in front of the fireplace, to make you breakfast, to bend you over every god damned surface-

"Probably," he answered.

"Hawks," you scolded him gently.

He laughed quietly and adjusted his posture, trying to sit upright instead of slouching back in his chair. He ended up settling for placing his elbows on his desk.

"It's fine," he said reassuringly, waving his hand around. "It's like a posh camping trip."

"A high-strung posh camping trip," you corrected him softly.

Hawks stared back at you silently, as if he was mad that you saw through him so easily. 'High-strung' was a nice way of putting it. His ruts made him mean, irritable to an irrational degree, carelessly crude, and shamelessly possessive.

"Do you want..." you trailed off.

For all Hawks knew, you were going to say something completely different than what he was thinking; but, the mere thought of what you could offer had him at the edge of his seat.

"Would you want me there?" you asked.

Yes. Holy fucking shit, yes.

But, that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"It's probably not a good idea," he protested softly.

You frowned at him, tilting your head a little, and tightened your arms where they were crossed over your front: a silent gesture telling him that you expected an explanation.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he explained, his normally calm and suave voice lowered. It was clear that this wasn't just caution or worry; this was a warning.

"How would you hurt me?" you dared to ask, voice soft, more so trying to soothe his worries than agitate the beast.

Hawks let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know," he breathed. He looked away, and you watched him drag a hand through his hair, pushing wispy blonde bangs out of his face.

"I get really... worked up," Hawks continued, his warning tone still present. "Pissed off and horny and-... shit. Not like normal. I don't think right: it's consuming."

When he turned back to you, and saw that you still looked relaxed, eager to listen, to understand, Hawks' tense shoulders relaxed a little.

"I don't know what I would do to you, and that scares me," he warned in a low, harsh whisper. "The only thing I know is that, if you come with me, after you enter that cabin, I won't let you leave."

"Okay," you uttered back.

"What?" Hawks gawked. "Fucking hell - you realize what I just said, right?" he asked, clearly irritated at your casual response.

"Of course I do," you retorted sharply, snapping at him a little.

He released a sharp exhale through clenched teeth. "I don't think you fucking do," he growled. "I won't let you leave. I'll take you whenever I want. That's - you know what that is."

The word felt so heavy in his mouth, weighing down on his tongue, like he wanted to spit it out. It tasted awful, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

You, surprisingly, glared at him like he had just insulted you. Maybe he had, in some way. Hawks rarely ever underestimated you; but, this wasn't a battle or heroism. This was raw, animal nature, him and you reduced to instincts.

Through his perspective, it was challenging his humanity, his love for you. But, through your perspective, it was an aspect of his nature, of something he was born with, that he couldn't stop or change; and you wanted to guide him through it, to be there when he needed you, regardless of the feral implications of it all.

"It's not rape if I want you, too," you snarled at him.

The glare he was wearing dissipated in an instant. Hawks gawked at you, stunned at the bold proclamation, his hands slipping limply off the edge of the desk and onto his lap. You watched his wings shutter faintly behind him before relaxing against his back, as if they were resisting the urge to fan out.

"You don't have to do it alone," you began softly.

"You don't-"

"Let me finish," you interrupted him gently.

Hawks obeyed, smacking his mouth shut. You doubted you would ever forget the expression he was wearing in that moment, gold eyes bright and shiny, staring at you almost in disbelief, with some awe and admiration.

"I know I don't have to," you continued. "I'm not offering out of some kind of obligation. I want to - to go through this with you. Hawks, I - I want to get to know this side of you, too."

He was, as you had come to know, a man of many faces. There was the silly, cocky hero he showed the masses, and the calculating, cold assassin he showed villains.

Those few who got close, heroes he trusted, knew he was kind and selfless, always willing to take the front lines, to risk it all. Behind closed doors, you knew he was charming and equally demanding as he was giving.

"If it's what you want, Hawks?" you added on softly.

Hawks blinked slowly. "Yeah," he exhaled heavily, like he had been holding his breath. "Fuck, I do. But, if I hurt you..." He trailed off, leaving the words unspoken, though the implication was obvious enough.

You fumbled nervously against the door, not because you were afraid of what he might do, but because you were surprised by your own emotions, by your lack of worry.

Maybe, it was just unwavering trust for the man who had been by your side for so long. Or, maybe, Hawks had managed to unlock some feral desires inside you that you never knew existed before him.

"Few months back, when you left so suddenly, it was for this, wasn't it? We were together then, but you didn't tell me," you uttered.

Hawks nodded, silently answering your question. It had come on so suddenly that he had no choice but to make a quick getaway, and let the planning fall on the wayside.

He at least made the time to tell you, albeit over a quick phone call, that he would be gone for a week and not to worry. You hadn't pressed him, figuring it was a sudden, unexpected mission.

"When you're in your rut, I - well, what am I to you?" you asked.

Shamelessly, Hawks recalled that he had thought of you, even before you came together. The beautiful woman whom he trusted with every fiber of his being, sometimes his sidekick, always his fellow hero, someone who had been there for him.

"My... mate," he answered quietly, as if he didn't want you to hear him.

Mate... not as eloquent as a lover and with a feral and obvious implication. Maybe, that should have been degrading, disgusting, being reduced to such a thing. But, it felt strangely tantalizing. As lewd as it might have sounded, mates were still equals, partners in love and war.

"You know..." you began, pausing briefly as you approached Hawks' desk.

His gold eyes followed you closely, looking up at you with a sort of softness that didn't quite fit with the conversation. But, if you were being honest with yourself, you liked it that way.

"-partner, lover, friend... You called me your 'personal pain in the ass' once," you said, laughing softly. "I... want to be your mate, too, Keigo."

You were careful about when and where you said his name: it was a sacred secret, something he trusted you with so dearly, so cautiously. But, sometimes, he really needed to hear it, especially when you needed him to know you were serious.

"-if you'll have me?" you added on quietly.

Rather suddenly, one of Hawks' feathers zipped across the room, wrapped around the door handle and flung it open.

You were so distracted by that flying plume that you almost didn't notice Hawks reach for the pile of papers, grab a few off the stack, and angle them at you.

Someone stepped into his office: one of the lawyers, by the look of their expensive suit. As they did, Hawks pulled the papers back and offered you a soft smile as he set them on the pile.

"Thanks. Is this all of them?" he asked, bright and cheery, a forced voice you were quite familiar with.

Somehow, you managed to catch up to him before you did something stupid. "I think so," you replied, matching his bubbly tone.

"Thanks," he chirped. "Oh, and your time off request has been approved, in case you missed the email?" he added on in a flawlessly professional tone.

You stepped away from his desk and carefully walked around the man, who had completely ignored you and was staring down Hawks like a starving, ravenous animal.

"Thanks, Hawks," you replied sweetly.

"Of course. Have fu-!" he cheered as you stepped out, barely cut off as the lawyer slammed the door as soon as you were out of range.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #takami keigo fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks smut

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles flatmates au #harry styles friends to lovers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue.

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face.

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief.

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger.

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused.

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out.

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed.

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile.

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out.

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve.

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up.

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily.

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top.

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench.

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice.

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp.

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger.

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #one shot #sam wilson x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #tfatws #falcon #captain america #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #avengers

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donaidk · 3 years

Text

Mick Schumacher - Worth the wait

I’m sorry for slacking in the last few days, I had a few things around uni I had to get done before sitting down and writing. But I’m now back with another Mick oneshot that I hope you guys will like 😊 Thank you for the request and wishing a great week for everyone 🥰🧡

Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

Looking through the closet Y/N really didn’t know what she should put on for the day that was comfortable but at the same time would look good. Usually she wouldn’t really care about looks and fashion if she wanted to dress comfy, but knowing how many cameras and photographers will be there during the day, she felt like it was a must this time. All the fans looked at those photos before or after the races, her being one of them as on several occasions those were the only way for her to see Mick other than during their FaceTime calls. However, this time she would be on them too, and even though she promised herself it wouldn’t matter, in the end it wasn’t that easy to get over. She did care about what the fans will think about her, although less than what Mick’s crew members and team members will. That was probably the most nerve wracking part of the weekend. Y/N already met some of them as she attended the first practice session on friday, but staying in the background and not even entering the garage meant she stayed a stranger to them until today.

“ You can take something from mine if you would like. ” She heard from behind him and turning her head towards the voice she could see Mick getting ready just a few meters away from her. “ I have some team stuff too, if you need anything. ” He added, pointing at the suitcase that was still half full with black-red Haas branded shirts and sweaters. Y/N’s anxiety was quite visible on her face, and he knew wearing his shirts sometimes helped calm her down somehow.

“ Maybe. I don’t know… ” Y/N let out a sigh, debating if her wearing his things would bring positive or negative feedback. In the end she just took one of her favourite shirts of his, pushing every thought back as she pulled the material over her head, tucking it into her jeans a little. When she stepped out of the closet Mick was ready too, sitting on the bed and waiting for her. “ Ready! ” She added when he looked up at her and with a nod got up from the bed.

As it was a home GP for Mick they were able to stay in his home rather than a hotel room and start the day from there. It wasn’t a long drive from the apartment to the circuit, giving Y/N just around 20 minutes to prepare herself mentally for the day. Luckily it wasn’t her driving and she could just watch the trees and houses go by as they passed them on the way. She knew everything felt strange because it was just her first time attending a race, and that hopefully if there was going to be a next time, it would be a bit calmer. She didn’t know how people will act towards her, but after getting through the first meetings it will be easier to be around them. It was usually just the first impressions that made her so anxious.

“ They’re going to love you, don’t worry about it. ” They were just turning off the road towards the private parking lot of the circuit when Y/N started bouncing her knee a little bit and Mick could see it from the corner of his eye. “ I would be really surprised if there would be anyone who doesn’t like you by the end of the day. ” He chuckled, looking to his right when the car was parked and with one last squeeze to her hand, they both got out of the vehicle.

‘ Just don’t jinx it. ’ Y/N let out a sigh, taking her backpack out before stepping right next to Mick as she didn’t know where they had to go first. He shared the schedule with her, but it was a bit too much information all together, and she couldn’t really remember everything that was on the papers. Knowing that she will be either next to Mick or someone else from the team during the whole day was enough for her.

Getting to the entrance they both let themselves in with their passes, Y/N needing a bit of help from him initially, and as they were walking down the paddock Mick took her hand in his. Just seconds later she spotted a few photographers turning their way, but somehow she didn’t care about them. She never really cared about being photographed until it was done by official photographers and not just jealous fans or paparazzi on the streets. She wanted her private life out of the media, keeping all her social media pages private and only posting for her friends and family. Y/N did rarely appear on Mick’s posts or stories, but he was observant of her choices and made sure she was always okay with whatever he wanted to put out. This one time she was even looking forward to the photos taken of them, but would never admit it to anyone. She may have even smiled at a few of them when they passed their booth before entering the Haas hospitality.

“ Well, they probably already like you. Not all partners are that happy about them taking photos. ” Mick let her get through the door first, stepping next to her again inside. It wasn’t a huge building, but looking around quickly Y/N knew she would probably manage to get lost alone. “ If you need food or anything it’s there, and if you need quiet you can always just go to my room upstairs. ” He pointed in different directions, showing everything to her as they went to the stairs and up to the second level of the building.

“ I’m probably gonna stay mostly just out of the way. ” Y/N let out a sigh, following him inside the little room and just putting down her backpack on the sofa. “ Am I even allowed into the garage? Or is it just this building and the stands for guests? ” She asked, watching as he was already packing out a few things from his own bag.

“ Of course you’re allowed. Even if you weren’t I would get them to somehow let you in. It’s your choice if you would like to watch it from the garage or a stand seat. ” Mick shrugged a little, looking up at her with a smile on his face. For him it was still hard to believe that she actually came to the race and didn’t run away yet. “ I’m sure you won’t distract anyone. They’re gonna sit you down somewhere and just continue with their jobs. ” He added when Y/N still didn’t look convinced one bit, even though she knew Mick would never lie to her about anything.

“ I’ll probably just go there with you, watch the race itself from the stands, and then go back to the garage after the race. ” She decided a few minutes later when they were already leaving the building as he had to get some interviews out of the way before getting ready for the main event. She already knew his PR people as they did sometimes meet up with him on non race days too. “ Even at home I can’t stay put while you’re racing. I would just drive them round the bend, but you're the only one who should be driving today. ” Y/N let out a laugh at her own joke, seeing as Mick just shook his head.

When they got to the media pen she let go of his hand, letting him do his job and watching him talk to the reporters from the sidelines. She was too far away to hear any of it, but seeing the constant smile on his face showed Y/N that he was enjoying the questions. They could be a bit prying into his private life occasionally, but mostly they just stayed with the sport and only asked about his performance and opinion on the races. She really didn’t know how someone could enjoy people always questioning them, but she knew it was a part of Mick’s career and even if he didn’t want to do it sometimes, he had to. For her it was enough to just watch them and probably would have never chosen to do an interview if it wasn’t a must. She knew the drivers had media training, Mick probably a lot more thanks to his family, but she still couldn’t imagine how it felt doing this almost every week.

“ Less exciting bit of the day done. ” Mick came up behind her, his arms circling her waist as she turned around to take a few pictures of the sunny paddocks. It wasn’t the usual weather for the German GP, and it looked quite mesmerizing with the sun shining onto the circuit for once. “ Hopefully the weather can stay the same for the race. ” He added with a sigh but a grin got on his face when the camera was turned and Y/N took a selfie of them, almost immediately sending it to their two-family group chat.

“ I wouldn’t mind a bit of sunbathing either. ” She nodded, sliding her phone back into her pockets and turned towards Mick to hug him back. They had a bit of time before he had to get back to the team building and get on with the schedule. “ I’ll probably just catch up with your family while you have meetings, and then meet the team during lunch. If you have enough time of course. ” Y/N added, still looking up at him, remembering that his family is attending the race too. They couldn’t come to all of them, but as they were here already, it wasn’t difficult for them to stay a few days longer and watch the race.

“ We will probably. The race starts later anyway. ” Mick nodded, only letting go of her when they had to get going. Even then he held her hand, pulling Y/N closer when it got crowded around them, so he wouldn’t lose her among all the people. “ I’m gonna go and find you afterwards. Have fun. ” They shared a quick kiss as they arrived at the building and went their different ways. Mick inside for his meetings while Y/N tried to not get lost as she got to the part of the paddocks where Mick’s family sat down for a coffee.

Luckily a few minutes later she was already sitting next to Gina with a coffee in front of her, meaning she didn’t take a wrong turn anywhere. Thanks to Y/N studying away from Germany and Mick travelling around the world they don’t always get to talk in person. It was mostly just phone calls or FaceTime calls when she was with Mick. She sometimes talked to Gina as they weren’t too far apart in age and had a few interests in common, but not as much with Corinna, even though she felt like a second mother to her. She never thought her boyfriend’s family would become such a big part of her life. Actually, until Mick they never really mattered to her, but Corinna and Gina had such a positive attitude towards their relationship and her from the first second she was introduced to them, that they felt like a second family. If Mick’s friends were just a bit like his family she had nothing to fear.

“ Oh Corinna, didn’t know you guys are gonna be here. ” Looking to their right they saw Seb coming up to them, and greeting everyone with a quick hug before he turned to Y/N. “ And even bigger surprise. It’s great to see you here finally. ” He said with a grin, stepping back after their embrace so they all could see Lance coming up to them. Probably because of Seb and not them.

“ I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Y/N. ” She didn’t know where the courage came from to be so straight forward but hoped it won’t disappear in the next few minutes. She knew Seb pretty well already, as he was around Mick even on off days, and him being there helped her with opening up to Lance a bit.

“ I’m Lance and no, not yet. Although I’ve heard about you. ” Lance let out a little laugh while Y/N’s eyes went a bit wider than usual. “ Only good things. ” He added with a comforting smile, not wanting to scare her that she’s always a topic between them. She did remember a few occasions when Mick mentioned that he talks with Lance too, and not just Seb, but she never asked about the subject.

As they didn’t have to go anywhere, everyone decided that they would wait until Mick got to them. Since they arrived in the country they didn’t have more than a minute to sit still and talk with him, so they weren’t about to give up such a possibility. Y/N knew that Mick wouldn’t mind either, as he was always happy to catch up with friends, and after just a few minutes she didn’t mind either. Lance turned out to be a sweet person, just as Seb always was towards her and she actually was glad they met, and got to talk a little bit.

“ Are you usually travelling with him? ” Lance asked a bit later when they mentioned the next race and if she feels like attending again with all these new experiences.

“ Mostly just during the summer when uni is off my schedule. I usually just explored the cities while he raced. ” Y/N nodded a little, drinking the last bits of her coffee. “ Looks like I will watch the races instead of acting like a tourist. The timing is lucky, as I was about to run out of places to look at. ” She added with a smile, letting the waitress take away her empty cup.

“ Not many of us can get their partners to travel with them. He’s lucky with you in several ways. ” Lance let out a sigh, making Y/N blush and she was about to speak up when she felt two palms rest onto her shoulder.

“ I for sure am, even if I didn’t hear why. ” The owner of the hands spoke up, and a smile got on Y/N’s voice as she immediately recognized Mick’s voice, looking up at him for a second. “ Looks like you’re gonna meet everyone important on the first day. ” He glanced down at her before pulling a chair next to them so he could sit down too after greeting everyone.

“ I never feared your friends. The team is another different question. ” Y/N shook her head a little, looking at him for a bit too long before getting back to the conversation that got disrupted. They stayed right until lunchtime hit and they had to leave for their separate team building while Corinna and Gina went for a walk before the race.

The team members were intimidating at first as there were many of them and they were all curious about her, asking questions so they could get to know her. Luckily minutes after they sat down with their plates of food, everyone calmed down a little and they could finally find the common voice. In the end the meal was an experience that she could put onto the positive part of the list of the day. In the end she even found a few people to talk to while Mick was getting ready. She did go up to his drivers room a few minutes before they would leave, to have a few words with him before the race. He was already in his racing suit, although it was just halfway done, with the top half hanging down from his waist, and for a second Y/N forgot why she was there actually. Somehow the thin white material looked just as good on him as being shirtless did.

“ You’re off to the stands? ” Mick’s voice got her back from thoughts-land and she nodded as soon as her brain finally understood the question. “ We can meet here after the race if you want. They will let you guys in without any trouble. ” He offered, Y/N again just nodding as she didn’t trust her voice until he stepped back a little.

“ Yeah, that sounds good. ” She finally spoke up when Mick stepped back for one more thing and she felt like she could breathe again. “ Be careful. ” Y/N added, returning the quick kiss he initiated and it was a fight with herself to step back and leave the room. It was her first time she was here to witness moments like these, and Y/N couldn’t understand why she made the wait so long for herself.

From the moment she left the building everything happened as they discussed. She watched Mick race everyone and give his all from the stands, sitting next to Gina. They celebrated together with the crowd when the cars crossed the finish line for the last time and while he got the car back to the garage and parked it, they walked back down there. All three of them let the team congratulate him for a fantastic drive, before they stepped up to him one by one, Y/N closing the line. She didn’t really care as this way she could stay next to Mick from the moment he hugged her and didn’t have to step away until he went to change into normal clothing. In the end, even though they planned a private dinner, Y/N felt so secure with his team that they joined them in the hotel restaurant and celebrated the race together with everyone else working next to Mick and his teammate. However Y/N imagined this day would turn out, it exceeded all her expectations.

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outerbankspreferences · 3 years

Text

50 Wordless Ways to say I love you

Word Count: 1683

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Every time I sit down to write a shirt blurb it always turns out long. Every time I sit down to write a long blurb it always turns out long. I can’t seem to win. I’m always taking request, and message me if you wanted to get added to the tag list :)

#14. Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

It was Madison Bailey’s birthday coming up and you had started a tradition last season on everyone birthday to make them a cake of their choice. You always loved baking and found it therapeutic and soothing. You and Madison were roommates while filming season two of the show, and you kicked her out of the apartment so you could surprise her.

You asked Drew to come over and help considering him, and Austin lived in the same building. In all honest, the two living in the same apartment worked out great for you because you had a huge crush on Drew. You had since you meet him at the beginning of filming season one. Your characters were love interest, and at first you didn’t know if the lines of acting were getting hazy, but you soon realized it wasn’t. You had some serious feelings for him, but you were too nervous he didn’t like you back.

You were greasing the pans for the cake when you heard a knock on your door, and then was greeted by Drew. “What’s cooking good looking?” He laughed kissing the top of your head, giving you butterflies. “Only the best birthday cake in the entire world.” You said in a half serious tone, “where’s your partner in crime?” You asked looking for Austin. “Uh-he went to play basketball with JD, so just me and you are today. Is that okay?” He asked walking over to your speaker. A whole afternoon just to two of you, of course you were okay with that. “Yeah sure, did you download that playlist I showed you?” You asked, the two of you having similar taste in music.

“Of course, I did, I don’t know how you find such good playlist.” He said turning on the music, “so how can I help?” “Well, do you know how to bake Drew?” You asked, have never done this with him before. “I would rate myself like a seven and a half out of ten” He said confident. “Okay, well why don’t you measure all the ingredients, and put them into these little bowls so I can post something cute to my Instagram and then we’ll get started.” You said handing him the recipe with the measurements.

You preheated the oven and got the stuff together for the frosting. You prepped all the pipping bags and sprinkles in Madison favorite colors. “Did you get Madison something for her birthday?” Drew was the first to break the comfortable silence. “I did, I got her a gift certificate for a spa place for her and Mariah this weekend.” You told him proud of your gift. “Shit, I forgot to her something, I’ve so busy filming, do you know what she wants?” He asked. “Um- she broke her Bluetooth speaker last week, maybe get her that? That’s why we’ve been stuck using my crappy one.” You said laughing finishing get your stuff together. “Okay, are you done with the measuring?” You asked, looking over his shoulder. “You know that’s a good idea, do you want to come with me when we’re done this?” He asked moving out the way so you could see he finished.

“I would love that.” You say grabbing your phone and taking a picture of Drew’s hard work, adding a cute filter before posting it to your Instagram. “You know she’s going to see your “Why are you posting that your IG story, she’ll know that’s what you’re making.” Drew said not understanding why you were taking a picture. “I know she’ll see it, that’s why I made cookies earlier. She’ll think I was making those and not her birthday cake.” You explained, grabbing some bowls to mix the stuff in. “Okay, you mix the wet ingredients together, and I’ll mix the dry and then we combine them together in the end.” You explained handing him bowl. “Why can’t we just mix everything in one bowl, you’re making more of mess.” He asked looking down at you, “uh-I don’t know, you just can’t. Those are the rules Andrew.” You responded sarcastically. “Oh god, not the full name. Remind me not to question your authority again.” He said shoving you shoulder playful.

Drew loved to hear you say his full name, normally it was something he despised but not with you. He was excited when you offered for him and Austin to come over and help bake the cake. When you asked him the day before you told him the Austin was welcome too. Normally Madison would help you, but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. He didn’t invite Austin though, wanting to spend as much time alone together as you could. He would take any chance he could whether it be running lines, watching a movie, carpooling to work.

Everyone in the cast knew you guys had a thing for each other and encouraged the both of you to make a move, but nether of you did. Drew nor you ever thought you guys would have chance with each other. So, you guys would just spend time together, dancing around feelings, and awkward moments.

As you guys finished mixing the ingredients together you poured the batter and put it into the oven. “Okay, that should take about twenty minutes to bake and then we can make the frosting while it’s cooling.” You said grabbing some of the dishes putting them in the dishwasher. “Who taught you how to bake?” Drew asked, curious on how the habit started. You smile thinking about your childhood. You turned around to face him, leaning against the counter. “My mom taught me. When I was kid, she used to bake all the time. If it weren’t someone’s birthday, she would say they’re ‘I love you’ cakes. I guess after that I always found joy in it. I know it’s kind of cliche girl thing, but”- “No I like that you do stuff like this, it’s not cliché.” Drew said cutting you off before you could bad mouth your favorite pass time.

That’s when your favorite song on the playlist came on. Drew looked over at you, knowing it was your favorite. He loved seeing the light in eyes when ever it came on. “Ugh, I love this song” you say humming along to the words while looing at your phone. Drew got up from the chair he was sitting on, and grabbed your hand pulling you close to dance with him. “I know, that’s why I added it to the queue, come dance with me.” The two of you danced like idiots while you sang to the song. Drew spun you around, and you almost tripped and fell but he caught you, the two of you giggling. You looked into his eyes, the two of you close enough you could feel his breath on your face. ‘Just do it, kiss him’ you thought to yourself, and the next thing you know, you’re closing the small gap between you two.

Drew was shocked at first, not believing he was kissing you. Your lips were softer than he had expected, and they tasted like raspberries, most likely from your lip balm. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer kissing you back. You guys made out for a couple more minutes before you pulled away from lack of air. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me”- you started to stumble over your words when Drew leaned down and kissed you again. “it’s okay Y/N/N, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for while I just didn’t think you felt the same way for me.” He said with a little grin.

You couldn’t believe you waited that long to show him how you felt, and now that you had you were glad, he felt the same way. “I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way, I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.” You said almost in whisper, a blush creeping on your cheeks. Drew leaned down and kissed you again, “of course I feel the same about you. How could I not? You’re such an amazing person.” His kind words causing a blush to form again. You hid you face in his chest, making him laugh.

The two of you were pulled away from your conversation when the timer went off for the cake. “Oh, it’s ready!” Drew said rushing over to the oven taking the cakes out. “I’ll grab the stuff to start making the frost, and you can take the cakes out of the oven.” You directed. “Yes chef.” Drew saluted you in joking matter. Once he took the cakes out, you tested it with a knife to make sure it was cooked all the way through. You cut a bit off the top to make sure it tasted okay, giving a piece to Drew.

Once you took a bit you immediately made a face, the cake tasted terrible. You looked at Drew trying to judge his reaction, laughing when he made the same face you did. “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but this taste terrible Y/N/N.” You grabbed the recipe off the counter and read the instruction. “I don’t understand I made this recipe a hundred times, it always turns out good. Three cups of flour, a teaspoon of vanilla, two teaspoons of salt, a”- “did you just say two teaspoons of salt?” Drew asked with wide eyes. “Yeah, why how much did you put in?” “Uh, well I though it meant tablespoon, so I put two tablespoons of salt.” He said rubbing the back of his neck cheeks turning red.

You start to laugh at him, finding his embarrassment hilarious. “Oh, come on love it’s not that funny.” He says wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Don’t worry I can bake.” You say mocking him. “I guess Madison is getting a store-bought cake this year.” You say turning around kissing him. “At least I can kiss better then I can bake.” He said making the both of you laugh.

TAGLIST:

lemur46

fttayla

drewstarkeysbitchh

#drew starkey #drew outerbanks #drew starkey blurb #drew imagine #drew-starkey-imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #50wordlesswaystosayiloveyou #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks

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huntergatherercreator · 3 years

Text

Take Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut, mention of cheating and alcohol abuse, break-up angst

Note: Have I really just written something not mob!tom related? I’m as shocked as you are. This is my first time posting something that contains sexual content on this level, it’s kinda nerve wracking so any feedback would be appreciated! Also, let me know if I’ve missed any warnings I should have added.

-------

2,032 words

The bar wasn’t your usual scene. You preferred local, intimate places not clubs like this. Despite being underground the mirrored ceiling made it feel twice as open. You looked out over the dance floor from the mezzanine at the entrance door searching for your friends. Rhythmic lighting spilled over the space. It was almost filled to capacity with bodies dancing to bass so loud it reverberated through the soles of your new shoes.

An exaggerated wave from the middle of the bar caught your attention and you smiled as your friend signalled you over. Gripping the handrail of the metal steps you took a breath before descending. You still weren’t completely comfortable with the outfit you’d been talked into wearing but judging by the looks you were getting as you cut across the floor it wasn’t as bad as you’d initially feared.

“Damn, Y/N! You look incredible!” Your friend gushed pulling you in beside her at the bar. Signalling to the bartender she had them pour out two shots. Turning to you with a devilish grin she offered you a lime wedge.

“No way. I just got here,” you refused. As much as you enjoyed drinking the past three months had been filled with nights spent at the bottom of a bottle. You were slowly getting back control. Reigning yourself in after the worst breakup you’d ever experienced but it was a slow process.

A lot of your recovery had to do with the guy you’d met a few weeks ago. Tonight was the first night he’d meet your best friend, the one whose opinion could make or break the possible relationship.

With a sulky pout she downed her own. “So, when will this mystery man of yours get here?”

“He should be here soon.” Your friend leaned her back against the bar, eyes scanning the room.

“Hmm...is it him?” she mused pointing to a guy with too much hair product. “No,” she shook her head, “it’s got to be him.” You followed her finger and snorted a laugh as you watched a guy dancing awkwardly in the corner.

“Stop it. You’ll know him when you see him,” you promised. Turning back to the bar to order a beer you heard her gasp even over the loud music. In the mirrors lining the glass shelves you could see him approaching and couldn’t stop a smile. Your friend not so subtly nudged you.

“Is this real? Is he coming over? My god, he’s gorgeous” she babbled. You took a long sip of your beer and decided to let her work it out on her own.

“He looks like he works out so much. Those jeans, that t-shirt...” You could practically hear her drooling before she quickly spun to face you. “Shit, he’s actually coming over, what do we..”

“Hey, Y/N.” Settling your beer on a napkin you watched your friends eyes widen, mouth agape. With a laugh you finally faced him. His smile faltered as he took you in, a faint blush creeping up his face.

“You look amazing.” Leaning into you his hand rested on your hip as he kissed your cheek.

Just as your friend had said, Adam was gorgeous. Standing a good foot above you with tousled blonde hair and classic baby blues he wasn’t your normal type, which is exactly why you’d gone for him. After the last failed relationship it was clear what you were attracted to and what you needed were two different things. Adam was your clean slate. Your fresh start.

It was different with him. There hadn’t been an instant attraction but the more you got to know him the more relaxed you felt. Sure there was still no flutter when he kissed you, no spark, but given enough time you were sure that would grow.

You introduced your friend who was still having a hard time closing her mouth all the way, then using Adam’s height to your advantage you got him to find a free table at the edge of the room. Sliding into the booth between them you settled in for the interrogation. He didn’t seem phased. He linked his warm fingers with yours and answered as honestly as possible. Watching him you couldn’t help but smile as he devoutly tried to stop his gaze from wandering to the low cut of your dress and the way his cheek flushed when he failed.

Beer finished you excused yourself to grab a new round for the table. The queue at the bar was steadily getting busier as the night went on. You tried to work your way further down to a quieter spot, keeping your head down and gently elbowing your way through the groups. A gap opened up and you rushed to move into the space only to collide with someone. Your foot slipped on a spilled drink and a strong hand caught your waist to steady you. Cheeks heating from embarrassment you internally cursed your shoes. Gathering some courage you glanced up to thank your saviour and the words died in your throat.

Soft chestnut eyes stared down at you intently. You’re heart hammered under their gaze, sweat starting to make your hands clammy. You’d thought you’d never see him again. You’d hoped you wouldn’t. But here he was, looking immaculate in an all black suit and even better than you remembered. The heat of his hand against your waist seemed to sear through your dress and you tried to step back out of his reach but he only pulled you closer.

“Y/N.” The room seemed to still, the music dimming. All you could hear was his voice. The rough edge it held when he said your name had your body reacting as if the last few months hadn’t happened. You clenched your fists hating how with one word he could get under your skin again after all this time.

“Let me go.” You barely managed to whisper out the words but you knew he’d heard. He downed what was left in his glass and brushed against you as he placed it on the bar. The scent of him wrapped around you triggering memories that you’d tried to suppress.

Leaning in his lips brushed your ear as he spoke. “We need to talk.” Irritation flared. Who did he think he was? It had been months and now he wanted to talk? Steeling yourself you shoved his hand away.

“I have nothing to say to you, Tom.”

“Then listen.” You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and the intensity radiating from them dried up your protest.

“The guy you’re with is no good.” You jerked back away from him and he had the gall to look surprised.

Anger snaking through you, you felt your lip curl. “He’s none of your business. I’m none of your business.” Elbowing past him you fought the crowd blindly. You had to get away from him.

Reaching the back wall you slipped into a side hallway marked private. The music dimmed to a muted thump and you let out a ragged breath. As your adrenaline started to dip you started shaking. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to calm down.

“Y/N.” You cursed as you sensed him approach but refused to turn. Seeing him, seeing how little he’d changed and knowing how readily you still reacted to him was too much.

“Leave me alone.”

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be with him.” He’d stopped behind you, his breath ruffling your hair as he spoke.

You couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “You’re just saying that because you can’t stand to see me with someone else.” The beat of silence that followed had a chill creeping over your skin. Don’t look at him, don’t do it. Your fingers tightened into fists as you fought against yourself. God you wanted to turn around. You wanted to run your fingers through his soft curls, you wanted to breathe in the indescribable scent that was Tom as he held you and...

Hands skimming over your waist he closed the gap. His chest against your back you shivered at the warmth he radiated. You held back a soft moan as his lips ghosted over your throat.

“He’s not right for you,” he breathed. Your mind conjured an image of Adam and the realisation of what you were doing doused you like ice water. You spun out of Tom’s grip, palm pressed against the wall to steady yourself.

“You walked away from me, remember?” Your voice shook with effort as you tried to fight back tears. Tom grimaced, eyes lowering. Your heart ached at his expression but anger chased it off. “You don’t get to act the martyr, Tom, and you certainly don’t get to have a say in my love life.”

Gaze flashing up to you his shoulders set, jaw working for a long second before he spoke.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” you snapped.

“Do you love him?” Taken aback your mouth fell open. When you didn’t answer he took a step forward. He searched your face, gaze dipping to your lips hungrily. Your stomach dipped traitorously as heat pooled through you.

“Tom,” you warned, voice barely a whisper. He was too far gone to listen.

Hands cupping your face his lips brushed against yours, feather light and testing your reaction. Your body lit up at his touch. Nerve endings that had been dormant firing to life. Despite everything your body craved his touch, needed him on a deeper level than you understood.

Fingers drifting to caressed your neck, he pushed you back against the wall. You gasped at the cold, arching against Tom’s chest to escape it and he mistook your movements as encouragement. Gripping your hip to pull you even closer he deepened the kiss. You could feel his excitement as he pressed against you and it broke your last reserve of control.

Lips parting you relinquished to him. Tongue flicking out to claim your mouth the familiar taste of sweet whisky brushed over your taste buds. His fingers drifted from your neck. Following the low V of your dress he traced the channel between your breasts before slipping them under the fabric. He let out a low groan as he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip his fingers massaged you, thumb circling your nipple drawing out whimpers.

Your hands wound into his hair, tugging at the curls. Lifting a leg to wrap around his waist you gasped as he rutted his hips against you. The soft fabric covering his erection brushed against you teasingly. Hiking your other leg around his waist he held you firmly against the wall, fingers digging into your ass. He dipped his head to kiss your neck, biting and suckling at the sensitive spot above your collar bone until you could barely think. Your underwear was ruined.

Slipping a hand between your bodies you traced the outline of his bulge slowly, intent on dragging it out like you’d imagined on long nights without him. When he bucked against your hand with a needy moan you knew you’d never be able to keep it up.

“Y/N?” The distant voice broke you from your trance. You tried to break away from Tom but he held you tight.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll let you go back to him.” The ragged edge to his voice had you shivering.

“Tom,” you pleaded, heart breaking all over again as he watched you with tormented eyes.

“I made a mistake. I should never have let you go.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Tell me you’ll take me back,” he begged.

The sound of Adam calling for you started to grow louder but here in Tom’s arms the guilt and regret you should be feeling was kept at bay. All you wanted was him. Even if it was only temporary, even if it was only for tonight.

“I want you, Tom.” He relaxed, relief flooding his expression before he caught you in another heady kiss.

“Let’s get out of here.” The grin you’d missed so much lit his face as he gently put you down and guided you towards the emergency exit.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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incorrectfmaquotes · 3 years

Note

Hey, I love your blog! I'm sorry to bother you but I was just wondering if you got my submissions and if you've approved of them and will post them?

(Long Post; press ‘j’ to skip past if on desktop)

Hello! Thank you for loving the blog! I did get your submissions, and they have been approved. I will post them, but with the way I run this blog, the earliest one of your submissions would show up would be mid-February at this point.

(And now a little behind-the-scenes look if you want a more in-depth explanation for why that is, or if you’re just curious.)

How that works is that I like to fill the queue all the way up to the max (which is 300 posts) with quotes and other fma posts all at once when it is a few days from running out. I press the ‘shuffle’ button a couple times to thoroughly scramble the order in which I have entered the posts, so there is a better mix between new original incquotes, new submitted incquotes, old reblogged incquotes, and other fma posts. I set up the queue to post 3 times a day, so that gives me the next 100 days to make new incquotes and find other fma posts and receive submissions, and I put all of that in the drafts. Hopefully, by the end of the 100 days, I have over 300 new posts waiting in the drafts.

The last time I filled up the queue was a couple days before last Halloween, so the submissions that have been posting in that time were submitted before the last week of October.

I do apologize for how long it takes to see your submissions. I have thought about maybe changing the timeline in which I post submissions, but because no one else has brought it up before, I thought it was something that only I had some issue with and therefore, not worth changing.

And if you are still concerned about having quotes approved, well, here are some things that have made me reject submissions, or change them, or just keep them in my inbox because I don’t know what to do with them:

Biggest No-No: Absolutely no quotes that support pedophilic or incestual ships! This is the one I have made sure to put down in the submissions page. It says before the submission box that even if you did not intend for it to be romantic, if it can conceivably be perceived that way and tagged as a pedophilic or incestual ship by someone reblogging, then I will alter it in a way that would make it more not like that, like adding another character. I feel incredibly guilty changing someone else’s submissions though, especially in this case, because they are clearly going for a wholesome platonic, familial vibe. Unfortunately, what ends up happening sometimes is that some of those submissions just end up sitting in my inbox longer as I wrestle with that guilt and how to potentially change it.

Offensive shock humor/humor rooted in bigotry. Not too long ago, I had to delete multiple submissions with humor based in transphobia and sexual violence. It was incredibly disheartening to receive, and I am not gonna force anyone else to read them or anything like that. I rarely get this type of stuff, which I am grateful for.

Quotes that are graphically NSFW, especially if they involve the teenage characters. These are INCREDIBLY uncomfortable for me to read. I’m usually fine with posting some dirty humor, but either the lines are too blurred with these submissions, or they are just waaayyy too inappropriate out the gate. I have actually posted some of these because I thought that maybe I was having an overreaction to these quotes, maybe I’m being too prudish, maybe they actually are that funny to more people. I don’t know if others are having the same reaction to them that I do, but they usually end up being some of the least popular quotes, so I’m probably just gonna reject them now. I will admit, there are a few quotes that I had posted in the very early days of this blog that are more NSFW than I would think to make now. I’m honestly surprised that I did make those, I think I was just excited to find more quotes for this blog, my mind has changed now.

Quotes that I have already done before. Even if you have submitted it with different characters, chances are that I’m still gonna delete it unless it is really different. If you happen to submit a quote that I have not posted yet, but I do have it waiting in my queue or drafts, I won’t add the submission. I know this is harder to check for anyone submitting, especially because this blog has almost 5,000 posts, but yeah, this is just one of the things that make me reject a submission.

More specifically, do not send me that quote from Brooklyn 99 where Jake accidentally calls Holt “Dad”. This is, without a doubt, the quote I keep getting sent the most. At one point, I had 7 submissions of it from different people in my inbox all at once before I deleted them. I still get submissions of it that I delete on sight at this point. Y’all. That is one of this blog’s earliest quotes. I’m pretty sure it’s within the first 100 posts. It’s already been done. Please stop sending me this quote.

I don’t think you were expecting such a hefty response, but I hope you have the necessary information.

#dyingroses #rosie speaks #asks answered #the reason why I only have the first bullet point as a guideline in the submissions #is because it has been the longest recurring issue #the other issues besides the last bullet point #have only appeared this year #i might make a separate post with these things that arent attached to an ask

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

Sneaking Around | Chapter Nine

All of the next week passed without any problems. Aelin prided herself on being responsible, especially in the workplace, causing her not to summon Rowan to her office and lock the door. Damned responsibility.

It was now officially one week from Christmas. Work was out until after the holiday. This was Aelin’s favorite time of the year. Now some of the office gang was gathering at the bar at the end of Friday to celebrate this exciting fact. Lots of other employees had had the same idea, and Ansel was very busy. Lorcan was also excluded (that’s what he gets for working at a gym). Elide, Gavriel, and Manon were working late. Lysandra and Aedion had gone to get drinks and failed to return. Shocker.

Vaughan had just gone to the bathroom, and at this moment, Fenrys and Connall, the bastards, made an announcement. “Rowan,” said Fen, “we have a surprise for you.”

Connall continued, “You haven’t been in a relationship for, like, years.” Aelin, the only other person at the table right now, snickered at this. That is, until she tried to figure out where this was going.

Fenrys spoke again. “And so, we have arranged a date for you.”

Rowan, quite understandably, looked utterly shocked and quite a bit horrified. “Um, no.”

Connall winced. “Now, hear us out. Of course you’re angry. But. She’s hot.”

“Very hot,” added Fenrys.

Rowan scowled. “I don’t need your help getting a girlfriend, thank you. Stay out of my love life.”

“But dude,” Fenrys pleaded. “She’s a family friend, and she’s totally looking forward to her date with my lovely coworker. That’s you, by the way.”

Rowan didn’t even bother looking sorry. “I am not going on an arranged date. I can’t fathom why you would tell this woman I’m just going on a date with her. Did you seriously expect me to agree to this?”

“Okay, see,” Fenrys was pleading now. “You totally owe me-”

“For what?” Rowan intervened.

Ignoring him, Fenrys continued. “And she would be really upset if I didn’t pull through. You know, she’s not going to be in town for long. You could just put up with one date, maybe screw her, and you’ll never have to see her again.” Men. Aelin needed new friends.

Rowan sighed. He was pointedly not looking in her direction. “I suppose I feel a little bad now, but I am not going on a date with her.” Aelin could tell from his tone he didn’t feel bad at all.

Connall scowled. “Dude, what, do you have a secret girl or something?”

Rowan almost imperceptibly stiffened and didn’t answer the question. Aelin had frozen as well. Connall’s glare deepened. “Yeah, right. Don’t pretend you’re getting laid just because you don’t want to go on this date. Doesn’t work on me.”

Connall’s stupidity relieved Aelin (he wasn’t the brightest), but she lost all relaxation when she glanced over at Fenrys. He was staring at her as Connall continued to pressure Rowan into agreeing to the date.

Aelin raised her eyebrows in a What? gesture.

Fenrys just stared, until a smirk began to spread across his face. Hell no.

At the sign of Aelin’s panic, his grin grew. Fuck. She gave a slight shake of the head and prayed Fenrys had more compassion than Vaughan would in this situation. Or Lorcan. Or Lysandra. Yes, she definitely needed new friends.

Just as Aelin started thanking the gods for Fenrys’ kindness when he looked away and seemed to drop that revelation, he said, “I seem to recall winning a bet last week, Rowan. Your payment was, if I recall correctly, one favor of my choice.”

Rowan froze once again. Aelin tried not to sigh. “What the hell did you bet on?” asked Aelin in her most amused, but also I-totally-don’t-really-care voice. Fenrys seemed to have figured out what was going on with them, but Connall probably wouldn’t connect the question to anything important.

Rowan did sigh. “I don’t remember. We make so many bets.” Idiot men.

Connall sneered. “It looks like you have to go on the date. And be pleasant; she doesn’t deserve to be scowled at all night just because you’re grumpy.” Aelin, despite herself, snorted at this.

Rowan casually glanced at her and she gave a small shrug. He still hesitated. “I will go on the damned date if I really must, but are you sure you don’t want to spare me? Please, dudes?” Okay, maybe Aelin should be annoyed or jealous or whatever it is normal people feel in situations like this, but she could only bring herself to find it hilarious. She couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out of her as Rowan continued begging.

Rowan turned and glared at Aelin, then put his gaze back on the twins. “What’s her name?” he asked the boys.

“Remelle.”

And that is how Rowan got roped into a date that was not with his sort-of girlfriend. Aelin laughed again.

“So,” said Fenrys, who insisted on walking Aelin to her apartment hours later. Neither were in any state to drive, she and Fen lived near each other, and Rowan didn’t want to risk being spotted with her on the way out. “You’re fucking Whitethorn,” he stated.

Aelin snorted. “Yep.”

Fenrys grinned at her. “I have a few questions. Like how long? And why?”

Aelin giggled. She’d certainly had a lot to drink. “We’re dating. Well sort of. I mean, we’ve gone on dates. And we’re in like. Like in love except it’s like, not love.”

Fenrys chuckled. “You’ve both seemed happier recently. Although we all knew you had some secret lover.”

Aelin giggled again. Beer really did wonders for her. “You’re not nice, though. You didn’t have to make him go on that date when you found out.”

Fenrys seemed quite a bit more sober than her. “I couldn’t help myself. Payback for not telling me.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, almost getting disoriented enough at this to run into the nearby streetlight. Fenrys grabbed her before she could bash her nose in.

“Did you get me all drunk so I’d spill the beans?” Aelin asked.

Fenrys chuckled. “Darling, you got drunk all by yourself.”

Aelin sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Fenrys smiled fondly at her.

Fenrys had dropped Aelin off at her apartment and headed to his own. The rest of the walk hadn’t consisted of much questioning, which surprised Aelin at first, but when she thought about it, Fenrys always had his motives.

She was now sitting at the counter the next morning, battling the effects of last night’s drinks; namely, a migraine.

Her phone rang. Aelin picked it up to see Rowan’s name on the caller ID.

“Yeah?” she answered quietly. Ansel was still asleep.

“I wanted to ask you if you’re sure you’re okay with the date. I didn’t have a chance to talk about it last night.”

Just hearing Rowan’s voice made her happy. She didn’t care if the subject of their conversation was some “very hot” woman he was going to have dinner with.

“I’ll admit, it’s pretty weird. If she’s just going to be here for a little bit, though, it’s fine if you get roped into it.”

She could almost feel Rowan’s scowl through the phone. “Um, no, not fine. Not anywhere close to fine.”

Laughing quietly, Aelin said, “You have to admit it’s kind of funny.” When Rowan did not seemed inclined to admit anything of the sort, Aelin continued. “And you had that coming. Who the hell bets favors? You out of cash?” He didn’t respond to this either. “Oh, Fenrys figured it out, by the way. We are damned awful at keeping secrets.”

Rowan sighed. “I can’t argue with that. What did he say?”

“Well, I was rather drunk at the time, but I seem to recall he wasn’t totally horrified or whatever. I doubt he’ll tell. There were surprisingly few questions.”

“Fenrys will be the death of us, I can assure you of that. So, anyways, from Connall I have gleaned that Remelle is hot, sexy, and totally cool. He’s probably exaggerating, but either way, you needn’t feel jealous.”

Aelin laughed. “I wasn’t planning on it. I trust you. If you do cheat on me, though, I’ll kill you.”

Rowan snorted. “I believe it. I won’t, though. Well, technically, is the date in itself cheating?”

“Gods, who cares? Don’t kiss the lady, come back and fuck me. As simple as that.”

Rowan chuckled. “Your wish is my command, Majesty.”

“Dweeb,” Aelin muttered.

They planned to meet tomorrow after Rowan’s date. He was to be polite, leave, and come back to his apartment where Aelin would be waiting. He called her overprotective for wanting to check on him immediately afterwards, to which Aelin just replied he had better WiFi.

Soon after hanging up, Ansel came out of her bedroom. “Calling your lover boy?”

Aelin glanced at the ceiling. “Lord save me. Yes, that was Rowan. I suppose I should fill you in.”

Ansel said after a moment, “Um, I think that’s your queue to say something, not just stand there looking mopey. Oh no, he didn’t dump you, did he?”

A snort from Aelin. “People don’t dump me, A. I’m too irresistible.” She sighed. “Rowan is going on a date.”

“Um, what, with someone else? Wait, but you two were so good together! The slimy bastard. Didn’t he realize you were supposed to be exclusive?”

“We’ve never actually discussed that. No, he’s going on a date the twins set up for him.” Aelin recounted the evening. Ansel was laughing so hard she could barely breathe by the end of it.

“Aw, honey, he’s a gentleman. You don’t need to be worried about him cheating on you.”

“What happened to slimy bastard? And I’m not worried, by the way. I laughed too when this happened. It’s just kind of weird. And Fenrys is lucky I was stone-cold drunk last night or I would have pummeled him.”

Ansel giggled. “I want to high-five him. This is great.”

“Whatever.”

Aelin had been so confident at first, but even though she didn’t feel any more doubtful, she still felt... nervous? No, jealous. Aelin was actually starting to feel jealous of some lady Rowan was probably wasn’t even going to like that much. Hopefully.

At least this Remelle woman sounded nice. Nothing could go wrong there...

Aelin sat on Rowan’s couch. It was the next day, about time for Rowan to get back. She was partway through a bag of chips when the door opened.

She turned her head to see Rowan in the doorway. But he wasn’t alone. There was a very pretty woman standing next to him, clutching his arm and giving him a seductive smile.

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #my writing

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years

Note

"close your eyes and hold out your hands" with Levi? Please?

LEVIATHAAAAAN!!! Thank you for giving me an excuse to write about him again, Anon. I hope you’ll enjoy this! (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Level 100 Celebration ☆

Azuki-tan [Leviathan/GN!Reader]

Anidaemon had been an adventure, as always. Something about the excited chatter of fellow anime and game enthusiasts, the neon signages and bright lights inside the stores, and the endless rows of merchandise of all shapes and sizes never failed to leave such a lasting impression on your mind. This time had been the same, your excursion almost perfect except for one very significant aspect it lacked: the company of your favorite otaku.

A few weeks ago, you and Leviathan had planned your trip to Anidaemon in order to acquire limited edition Azuki-tan charms in a gacha event that would only be available for a single day. He found out about it in an online advertisement which he immediately took a screenshot of and sent you, inviting you to join him in his quest of adding more items in his The Magical Ruri-hana: Demon Girl shrine. Despite the two of you adjusting your schedules to accommodate your outing, three days prior to the day of the gacha event, Leviathan was unexpectedly invited to do an interview with the RAD Newspaper Club for a feature on the Hell’s Navy.

“I’d rather go to Anidaemon with you,” Leviathan whined after he read the message from the RAD Newspaper Club with a frown, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He had been looking forward to your trip, and so were you, but things didn’t always go according to plan.

“Yeah, I was really excited about it,” you admitted. “It’s alright, though. Duty calls for the Grand Admiral, right? I’ll definitely be reading that article!”

Flustered, he covered his face with the back of his hand. “D’aaah! Don’t say that… It’s making me more nervous. Who knows? I might say the wrong thing and embarrass myself… and the entire Hell’s Navy!”

“You won’t. Most likely, it’ll be Mephistopheles who’s going to interview you, at least you know him already.” You patted his back with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure everything will turn out okay. You’ve got this!”

He withdrew his hand from his face and looked at you, only to avert his gaze the next second. “Oh… Um, thanks… I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” you said. “By the way, I’m still free during that day, so if you’d like, I can go to Anidaemon and get that limited-edition merchandise for us.”

“Y-You’d do that?” he clarified and met your gaze again, all of his earlier shyness seemingly gone for the moment.

“Of course!”

“Then, yes, please! You’re a lifesaver—no, an angel! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!”

“No problem! It’ll be something for you to look forward to after the interview.”

“I’m already looking forward to it! I’m giving you all my gacha luck and counting on you!”

“Leave it to me!”

Although Leviathan hadn't been by your side when you lined up in the queue, all of his wishes for your good luck had been in your hands as you spun the knob of the gacha machine. With a skip on your steps, you made your way back to the House of Lamentation, a pair of precious charms inside your coat pocket. Surprisingly, you arrived home before Leviathan, so you decided to spend your idle time in your bedroom while you waited for him.

As you scrolled through Devilgram and commented on a few of your friends’ posts, the sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway followed by a knock on your door caught your attention at once. You stood and opened it, pleased by the sight of Leviathan, excitement rolling off him in waves despite his attempt to keep his cool.

“Welcome back! How did the interview go?” you asked.

“Good, I think,” he replied, scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly. “Mephisto asked me about an update on Lotan. LOL!”

You chuckled, remembering his account of the incident involving him and Lotan during the Spirit Week celebration of the previous academic year. “Sounds interesting.”

“So…”

“Hm?”

“How was your trip to Anidaemon? Did you manage to get the goods?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you teased. “It was great, and the line was longer than how we expected it’d be, but… I did! I got them!”

“OMG! Which ones were you able to get?! Any chance for the cute winky face SSR ones? Actually, SR ones are okay, too. Hell, I’ll even take an N one. Anything from that collection is fine!”

“I can give it to you now,” you began, placing your hand in your coat pocket to get the item, “but you have to close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Okay, okay! Ah, I’m so excited! The suspense is killing meeeee!!!”

Giddily, Leviathan shut his eyes and reached out to you with his palms open, waiting. You pulled one of the charms from your pocket and placed it over his hands. The way his fingers quivered once the item touched his skin was so Leviathan, and this—his presence, quirks and all—was one of the things you missed during your earlier trip to Anidaemon.

“Can I see it now?”

“Alright, open your eyes,” you replied, hoping he’d like it.

His eyes fluttered open and widened once he saw which Azuki-tan variation he was holding. “U-U-Ultra Rare! It’s the UR Azuki-tan charm!”

“Indeed, it is.” You smiled slyly, twiddling with the other charm hidden inside your coat pocket. “But wait, there’s more!”

“Huh? More?!”

“Well, I wasn’t able to pull the Taichi-senpai charm, but I did get something interesting.”

“What is it?”

You revealed your other hand and showed him the extra item you were able to snag from the gacha miraculously. “Ta-da! Isn’t it cool?”

“Is that…?”

“Yep.” You took his hand in yours to demonstrate how the two charms work together. “Look, when you put them together like this…”

As you shifted the bases together, the markings on the back of the two imagawayaki charms connected.

“No way... It’s Azuki-tan’s other half!” Leviathan cried out, sounding emotional. “Wait… Both of these are UR, though? HOW?!”

“I’m not sure how I did it as well,” you admitted, “but surprise! Great job on the interview!”

Leviathan’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth to give you a reply, but his gaze zeroed in on your hands. You and he were still holding the charms together, your fingertips touching. “W-What are you—I mean—what are we doing? Are you… This is nice, but—UGH!”

“Levi—”

Before you could ask him what was the matter, he had pulled you in his embrace and buried his head on your shoulder. “T-Thank you for doing this! I just… I’m so happy!”

“Anything for you.” You laughed. “Do you want to keep both of them for your Ruri-chan shrine? I don’t mind.”

“No, I… I want you to keep the other half.”

“Oh… Okay, thank you, Levi.” You nodded against his chest, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him in return. “I missed you while I was there. Anidaemon wasn’t the same without you, you know?”

He sighed contentedly and held you tighter. “Let’s go there again next time.”

“Together.”

“Yeah.”

Even though it remained unspoken, the two of you mused over the same thing: like Azuki-tan, both of you had found your other half, and to be in each other’s arms was just what you needed after a long, long day apart.

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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singledarkshade · 3 years

Text

After The Holiday

Summary: Invited to spend time with her new boyfriend, his son and mother to get to know them better, Gideon worries if it was a good idea. Author’s Note: This is a sequel to Holiday Romance. Enjoy. Gideon lay on the most comfortable mattress she had ever slept on, feeling the sun through the curtains as she listened to the sound of laughter and splashing outside. Sliding out of bed Gideon pulled on her robe and stepped out onto the balcony to her bedroom seeing Rip playing with his son in the pool.

“Hi, Gideon,” Jonas yelled, waving up at her.

“Good morning,” she called back.

Rip gave her a smile, “Breakfast is on the patio whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll be right there,” Gideon replied, watching as Rip threw his son into the water making Jonas squeal with laughter again.

Stepping back inside Gideon dressed before pulling a brush through her hair, still stunned to be here. She’d known Rip for all of two weeks, they’d been dating for less than one and she had accepted an invitation to spend the next few weeks at their beach house to get to know him and his son, as well as his mother. His mother the CEO of Xavier Industries, one of the largest companies in the world, which Rip ran the US arm of.

She felt Beach House was a bit of an understatement, her entire apartment could fit in the bedroom she’d been given.

They were in a small town just outside Central City, a place that was mostly properties like this one. It was a little overwhelming how rich her new boyfriend was but to her relief, despite the massive beachside mansion, they were completely normal people.

Leaving her bedroom, Gideon headed down the back stairs to the kitchen and out to the patio, relieved she had memorised the route when they arrived the night before. Mary Xavier was sitting at the table under the parasol sipping tea, her injured leg resting on a padded stool, and smiled when Gideon joined her.

“Good morning, dear,” Mary greeted, “How did you sleep?”

Gideon nodded, “Very well. The bed is incredible.”

Mary laughed, “I know, the mattresses are so comfortable. I may have gone a little overboard buying them for every bed we have but it was worth it.”

“Gideon!!” Jonas called interrupting them as he ran over to the table, droplets of water spraying from him.

“Good morning,” Gideon smiled at the little boy who then ran over to his grandmother and climbed up onto the seat beside her.

“Jonas,” Rip called as he joined them, “Put your t-shirt on.” Passing the t-shirt to his son, Rip then leaned over and kissed Gideon, “Are we ready for breakfast?”

Jonas nodded with a grin and Rip headed into the kitchen bringing out a large plate with pancakes and waffles.

“Did you make these?” Gideon asked.

“Daddy always makes my favourites for breakfast on the first day of summer holidays,” Jonas told her, “It’s a tradition.”

“We have a few for these two weeks,” Mary told her.

Gideon smiled softly, “I look forward to learning about them.”

Rip checked his watch, he had about ten minutes before they had to leave and get Jonas to his camp. Jonas was currently putting his shoes on as Rip dropped his bag at the front door. He spotted Gideon standing on the patio looking out across the ocean.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly when he reached her side.

Gideon turned to him, “I feel a little bit like an intruder.”

“You’re not,” Rip frowned.

“This seemed like such a good idea yesterday,” Gideon sighed.

Rip wrapped his arm around her, “It still is.”

“But this is your two weeks with Jonas and your mother,” she reminded him, “The first two weeks of summer and I feel…”

“What?”

“Like I shouldn’t be here,” Gideon sighed.

Rip frowned, “I want you to be.” He moved so they were face to face, “Yes, we have some traditions for these two weeks, but Jonas is going a summer camp, mother will be meeting her friends, so it’ll just be us for most of the day this week.”

“A camp?” Gideon asked.

“Booked months ago. I honestly didn’t decide to send him away,” Rip assured her, “Can we at least spend today together and decide later if you want to stay?”

Gideon nodded and smiled when Rip kissed her.

“Daddy!!!” Jonas called suddenly, “We’re going to be late.”

Rip smiled at her, “I’ll be back soon.”

*********************************************

Rip drove through the streets of the small town towards the park where the camp was set up with Jonas in the back who was checking through his bag.

“Jonas,” he said, making his son look up, “What do you think of Gideon?”

“She’s nice,” Jonas told him, “And pretty. She makes you smile.”

“What?” Rip asked confused.

“You smiled all last night, Daddy,” Jonas explained, “You never do that.”

Rip grimaced at his son’s words, “You make me smile.”

“But she makes you smile when I’m not there,” Jonas rolled his eyes, “And that’s good.”

Rip smiled at his son’s thoughts, “I’m glad you like her.”

They reached the carpark for the camp and Rip made sure he had the enrolment email on his phone ready to book Jonas in. Reaching the queue, Rip scanned the notice on the board that gave the parents information for the week.

“Jonas,” an excited voice made them turn to see his best friend William Clayton running over to him. Just behind the boy, his father and soon to be stepmother were walking.

“Rip,” Oliver Queen greeted him, “How are you?”

“Good,” Rip nodded, “How are you both? Should I ask about wedding preparations?”

Felicity Smoak rolled her eyes, “Don’t. It’s not a topic you want me to get onto.”

Oliver laughed, hugging his fiancé, “We’re having a barbecue on Friday if you want to come.”

“I’ll check if we’re free,” Rip promised, before adding, “I can drop William off tonight. I pass your house anyway.”

“That would be great,” Oliver said, “And we can organise a carpool for the rest of the week if you want.”

Rip smiled, “That sounds like a great idea.”

Reaching the desk, they booked their boys in then, after hugs, Jonas and William went running in to find their other friends.

“Let’s work this out,” Rip said pulling out his phone again.

Gideon sat on a lounger by the pool reading her book, feeling a little odd that she was alone in the house. Mary had left not long after Rip, she was meeting what she called her ‘book club’, although the bottle of wine she took with her suggested it was something else.

Hearing noise from the kitchen, she turned to see Rip walking towards her. Gideon moved so he could sit beside her and smiled as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“Is Jonas safely at his camp?” she asked.

Rip chuckled, “I got a goodbye then he ran in without looking back.”

Leaning into him, she asked, “Feeling a little sad by that?”

“A little,” he confessed. His arm wrapped around her for a moment before he pulled back, “I need to make sure that you know Jonas will always come first with me, he has to.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Jonas wasn’t your top priority,” Gideon told him, “From the moment we met I knew you were a good person but when you started talking about Jonas, I could see how much you love him.”

Rip pressed a kiss to her temple, “He likes you. Says you make me smile. Which you do.”

Gideon took his hand, “So, we have the day to ourselves and no planned activities, what are we going to do?”

Rip gave her an amused smile, laughing when she smacked his arm, “Have you ever been in the town?”

“No,” Gideon said, “I’ve not. Since I moved to Star City the only time that I’ve been anywhere else was a visit to Central City with Sara. And you know about that.”

Rip nodded, “Well it’s nice, the beach is beautiful and there are a lot of restaurants we can have lunch.”

“That sounds…” Gideon stood and tugged him to join her, “Like something we can do tomorrow.”

Rip sighed contentedly as Gideon cuddled close to him. They’d spent the day getting to know one another in every way, talking almost as much as they made love. It had been a long time since he’d felt a connection like this.

“We need to keep an eye on the time,” Gideon murmured softly, “You don’t want to be late.”

Rip nuzzled her neck, “I won’t be.”

“Good,” she moaned at his ministrations, “I don’t want Jonas to think I am stealing you.”

“Come with me to pick him up,” Rip said.

Gideon frowned softly, “Are you sure?”

“You don’t have to hide in here,” Rip told her, “You’re not a secret, Gideon. I want everyone I know to meet you.”

Chuckling Gideon asked, “Show me off?”

“Let’s see you’re brilliant, beautiful and amazing to be around,” Rip told her, “Of course I want to show you off.”

She kissed him again, “If you’re sure.”

“Completely.”

*********************************************

“Daddy,” Jonas called appearing in the living room dragging a large bag with him, “I have the tent.”

Gideon and Rip turned from the movie they were watching in surprise.

“Did you forget?” Jonas asked, sadness covering his face.

Rip shook his head, “Of course I didn’t. But it’s far too early. Come and watch the rest of the movie with us.”

Jonas shrugged and sat beside Rip. It had been four days since they’d come to the beach house, Jonas went to camp each day allowing Gideon and Rip to spend time together which let them get to know one another better. Although she was a little nervous about the barbecue they’d agreed to go to on Friday.

“Why do you need the tent?” Gideon asked.

“We’re going camping,” Jonas told her.

Rip clarified, “In the garden.”

Jonas nodded, “Me and Daddy toast marshmallows, have hot chocolate and sleep in the tent under the stars.”

Gideon smiled, “That sounds like lots of fun.”

“It’s just me and daddy,” Jonas told her sharply.

“Jonas,” Rip scolded his son.

Gideon caught his hand, “Of course, Jonas. I was just saying how fun it sounds.”

Rip tapped his son’s leg and Jonas looked at Gideon, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Gideon said softly, “You’re just looking forward to having your dad to yourself tonight.”

Jonas nodded as he leaned into Rip who grimaced in worry that he was ignoring his son.

“You’re not ignoring Jonas,” Mary rolled her eyes at her son, as he pulled together the supplies for the camp out.

Rip sighed, “It’s just how he snapped at Gideon that it was only us tonight.”

“Michael,” Mary caught his hand, “As much as Jonas likes Gideon, and he does,” she cut him off before he could say anything, “This is a change for him. He’s never had to share you with anyone before.”

Rip frowned and bit his lip in thought.

“Listen to me,” Mary caught his hand, “It’s going to be fine. You’re in a new relationship and it’s wonderful. I’ve not seen you this happy since we lost Miranda. Even Jonas sees how happy she’s made you but it’s a change for him. He just needs some time to get used to this.”

“What do I do?” Rip asked.

“Just what you’re doing,” Mary replied, “You make sure you and Jonas keep up your traditions, and ensure he knows that although Gideon is a part of your life, he’s still your priority.”

“Are you going to be okay alone with my mother?” Rip asked Gideon after dinner while they were finishing the dishes.

She chuckled, “We’ll be fine. This is your time with Jonas, and he is looking forward to it but,” Gideon slid her arms around his waist, “You need to promise to protect me tomorrow night at the barbecue.”

Rip nodded, “I will not leave your side all night.”

With a smile she kissed him, “Good. Now go camping with your son.”

Rip grinned at her before he grabbed the bag and headed to the living room where Jonas was sitting holding the bag for the tent, looking slightly anxious.

“Hey, little man,” Rip smiled at his son, “Are you ready?”

Jonas bounced up excitedly, “We’re going?”

Rip lifted the tent and nodded to him, “Let’s find a good spot.”

They headed out into the garden, just on the edge of the patio so he could use the portable barbecue for toasting marshmallows without destroying the lawn. With Jonas ‘help’, Rip got the tent up and their sleeping bags inside before they put the blankets on the ground to sit on. Settling down, Rip hugged his son close, “Tell me all about your camp this week.”

The next hour passed quickly and Rip finally set up the barbecue so that he could toast the marshmallows.

Hearing footsteps he saw Gideon arrive carrying two mugs.

“Why are you here?” Jonas demanded.

Before Rip could scold his son, Gideon replied, “Your grandmother asked me to bring you your hot chocolate.”

“Oh,” Jonas looked up at her, “That’s nice of you.”

Gideon nodded, “Can I sit with you for a few minutes?”

Jonas shrugged, “If you want.”

Rip took the two mugs before Gideon sat at Jonas’ side and looked out at the view.

“This is a beautiful view,” Gideon said softly, “I can see why you set up your tent here.”

Jonas nodded before whispering, “It’s so daddy doesn’t burn the grass.”

Gideon laughed.

Rip held out some toasted marshmallows to them, Gideon and Jonas both took one, laughing as the sweets melted all over their fingers. They ate several before Gideon stood again.

“You don’t have to leave,” Jonas told her quietly.

Gideon smiled down at him, “This is your special night with your daddy. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

She hesitated before pressing a quick kiss to Jonas’ head then kissed Rip goodnight and left them alone to their camping.

*********************************************

“Are you alright?”

Gideon looked round to Rip and gave a weak smile, “Just a little nervous.”

“Hey,” Rip wrapped his arms around her, “It’s only a barbecue.”

“But it’s sort of the first time we’ve been out as a couple,” Gideon reminded him, “And these are your friends who live in a different world than I do.”

Rip chuckled, “Oliver and Felicity are the most down to earth people you will ever meet. Trust me, you’ll have fun tonight.”

Gideon smiled, “I’m still holding you to the promise that you’ll not leave my side all night.”

“I won’t,” he murmured, kissing her with a smile, “Not just because I promised but because you look stunning.”

She laughed enjoying the warm embrace, hoping that what she was wearing was fine for the evening. Rip had told her the dress code was smart-casual, so she was wearing her good black jeans, red heeled-boots and sparkly red off the shoulder top. Rip was dressed in black denims and a dark blue shirt, so she felt she was properly attired.

“Daddy,” Jonas yelled as he thundered down the stairs, “We’re going to be late.”

Rip turned and caught his son, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Jonas sighed before he turned to Gideon, “You look pretty.”

“And you look very handsome,” Gideon nodded back making Jonas, dressed similarly to his dad, give her a big grin.

Rip grabbed the bottle of wine they were taking with them, handing it to Gideon before helping Mary with her crutches and heading out to the car.

Reaching the Queen’s Beach House, Gideon took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves. Rip helped his mother out the car and onto her crutches, taking Jonas’ hand and wrapping his arm around Gideon before they started into the house.

“Mary,” Moira Queen appeared at the door, “You look wonderful. Even in plaster.”

Mary gave a smile, “Well it’s a distinctive look.”

Laughing Moira air kissed her cheek before turning to the others, “Rip, Jonas, it’s a pleasure to see you both again and…”

“Gideon Ryder,” she introduced herself before Rip could.

Moira nodded, a tiny grimace on her face seeing Rip’s arm around Gideon’s waist, “Come in.”

As they started in Mary turned to Gideon, “Ignore her. She’s just bitter that Oliver fell in love with Felicity and not one of her socialite friends’ daughters. She’s been trying to set up Michael for the last few years.”

They followed Moira out to the back garden which Gideon was stunned by. It was five times the size of Rip’s, coloured lights were strung up around the perimeter while the guests mingled.

“Jonas,” William appeared suddenly, “Come on, Dad let me set up my console in the living room.”

Jonas turned to Rip who nodded and the two boys disappeared talking a mile a minute.

“Gillian is over there. I’ll see you both later,” Mary squeezed Gideon’s hand before she headed over to a table where another woman was sitting.

“One of mother’s book club,” Rip whispered in her ear, “As you can probably guess, they rarely discuss books.”

Gideon laughed.

“Come on,” Rip wrapped his arm around her, “Let’s go say hello to our host.”

Walking over to the man standing at the grill, Gideon felt a little nervous as this was the first friend of Rip’s she was meeting.

“Rip,” Oliver greeted him, “Glad you all made it.”

“Jonas would never have forgiven me,” Rip replied before he turned slightly, “I want you to meet…”

“Gideon!!!” the stunned cry made them turn to see Felicity Smoak marching towards them a huge grin on her face.

“You two know each other?” Oliver asked as Rip shrugged confused.

Gideon laughed as she hugged the other woman, “We met when I spent a semester at MIT.”

“It’s so amazing to see you,” Felicity said, “Come and get a drink, we need to catch up.”

Smiling at Rip, Gideon happily followed Felicity to the bar before they found a seat by the pool.

“When Jonas said that his dad’s new girlfriend was called Gideon,” Felicity said, “I thought it might be you because it’s not the most common name.”

Gideon shrugged, “I’m the only one I know.”

Felicity laughed before asking, “How did you meet Rip?”

Gideon quickly gave her the story of the cruise, helping Rip and how she’d fallen for him.

“That’s a really great story,” Felicity sighed, “Much better than mine.”

“Which is?” Gideon asked intrigued.

Waving her hand, “I got a job at Queen Consolidated, working in their IT department. One day Oliver appeared because he had broken his laptop and needed it fixed quickly. After that anytime he needed something IT related, he called me.” Felicity smiled thinking back, “Then came the day he needed help during a presentation to set up the equipment which I had explained to him in great detail so he should have known how to use. Afterwards he offered to buy me dinner as an apology.” Sighing she continued, “I was a little unsure considering his reputation, but I am so glad I did.”

Gideon caught her friend’s hand and looked at the diamond ring she was wearing, “I can see that.”

Rip slipped up behind Gideon who was standing looking at the view while Felicity had to attend to some other guests. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I thought I wasn’t to leave your side?” he murmured in her ear.

Gideon chuckled, “I forgive you since I was able to catch up with Felicity.”

Rip laughed softly, “Are you hungry? Oliver assures me he’s cooked the burgers fully.”

Nodding Gideon took his hand and they walked over to the food table, Rip handed her a plate and advised what to avoid. Once they had their food, they found a table in the corner to eat. Not realising they were being watched.

“So,” Moira sat beside Mary, “Rip is dating finally. You must be pleased.”

Mary nodded as she watched her son smile at his girlfriend, “I am.”

“Even though they met on a couples cruise,” Moira said before asking, “Doesn’t that seem a little odd?”

Mary turned to the other woman, “It’s actually a funny story. Besides, Moira,” Mary smiled slightly, “I made sure I knew who was working with my son before there was any indication of romance.”

Moira shrugged, “Did you expect this to happen?”

“No,” Mary mused, “But I hoped when Eve told me about how well they were getting along that it might blossom.”

“And the fact she is not in the same social circle?”

“Your dislike of the fact Oliver fell for the IT girl,” Mary noted, “Is not something I agree with. Gideon is extremely smart, kind, is good to Jonas and the best thing that has happened to Michael in a long time.”

Moira frowned but Mary stopped her speaking.

“If you stopped actively disliking the girl,” Mary told her, “I think you would realise just how amazing Felicity is and how lucky you are that Oliver fell in love with her. That girl,” Mary continued before Moira could say anything, “Has changed Oliver for the better. He never would have stepped up as a father to William before her. Stop wishing for something you didn’t get and appreciate what you did.”

*********************************************

Gideon cuddled into Rip’s arms as she woke on the last day of their two weeks. With Jonas no longer at camp, they had spent the week going to the zoo, the water park, the carnival, and other activities with him meeting up with Oliver, Felicity and William several times as well.

“I’m going to miss this,” she murmured softly as Rip pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“This is just the last day of our vacation, it isn’t the last day we’re together,” Rip said before moving so she would look at him, “Is it?”

Gideon shook her head, “I don’t want it to be, but we live in different cities and I have to go to work.”

“Are you sure?” Rip moaned, “You can’t take another few weeks’ off?”

Chuckling at his teasing pout, Gideon kissed him, “I can’t, my contract starts on Monday.”

Rip rested his forehead against hers, “We’ll work something out.”

She kissed him, “We will.”

“I was thinking,” Rip said, “We drop Mother and Jonas off at the house then I’ll drive you back to your flat.”

“You don’t have to,” Gideon whispered.

He nodded, “Yes, I do. If we’re going to work this as a long-distance relationship, then I want to make sure I see you as much as possible.”

Gideon smiled.

They lay together for a while until the noise nearby announced Jonas was up, Rip kissed her and slid out of bed.

“Last day here,” Rip told her, “I have to make our final day big breakfast.”

“Don’t tell me,” she chuckled, “It’s a tradition.”

Gideon sat in the car staring out the window as the other occupants talked or sang along with the radio. She was trying not to focus on the fact that she had no idea how long it would be before she would see Rip again after he dropped her off at her flat.

She jumped slightly when the car made a sharp turn into a driveway and stared in surprise at the house they were parking at. It was a normal red brick two story detached house with a neat front garden surrounded by a fence, completely different from where they’d spent the past two weeks.

“Okay,” Rip said, “Home sweet home.”

Gideon looked at him confused.

“What?” Rip asked as they got out the car.

“I just…” Gideon hesitated, “After the Beach House was expecting something a little different.”

Rip chuckled, “Well, I prefer not to have to sprint to catch Jonas if he’s dodging his bath. Besides for just the two of us, this is more than big enough.”

“Daddy,” Jonas called, “You have to open the door.”

Shaking his head at his son’s impatience Rip headed to unlock the front door leaving Gideon with Mary.

“I bought the Beach House not long after I took in Michael,” she told Gideon, “We rent it out whenever we don’t use it.”

Gideon bit her lip, “I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mary laughed, “When I first started the company, I lived in a one-bedroom flat. I enjoy being able to be extravagant for the people I love. As you can see though Michael has never let it go to his head, he remembers what life was like without money. He knows that hard work is what gave us everything we have, and he has made sure Jonas knows this too.”

Gideon nodded, “I enjoyed the time I spent with you, Mary. You’re exactly how I always imagine my mother would be.”

Wrapping one arm around Gideon, Mary whispered, “I loved getting to know you too.”

Letting the younger woman go, Mary manoeuvred herself onto her crutches and started to the house.

Rip put his mother’s bag down in her room before finding Jonas in his bedroom.

“I am going to take Gideon home,” Rip told his son, “And I will be back tomorrow. Okay?”

Jonas nodded.

“You’ll take care of your grandma for me?” Rip asked.

“I will,” Jonas promised.

Rip smiled and hugged him, “I am so lucky to have you. Do you know that?”

Jonas beamed as he hugged Rip back, “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too,” Rip kissed his son’s hair before letting him go, “I have to go.”

He took a few steps out the room and found Jonas at his side who grinned, “I want to say bye to Gideon.”

Watching his son skip ahead to where his girlfriend stood by the car, Rip smiled as Jonas hugged Gideon. It was something he had worried about the moment he realised that he was falling for Gideon, that Jonas wouldn’t like her but thankfully he did.

Jonas scampered back to the house and waved them goodbye as Rip started the car out of the driveway.

They drove in silence with the radio playing and Rip was surprised how comfortable it was. He could always just sit in silence with Miranda, they didn’t need to fill it in any way and, when he lost her, Rip never thought he’d find anyone he’d feel this way with again.

Gideon turned to him and smiled, before she returned to looking out the window enjoying the music.

Rip smiled to himself and continued to drive.

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #jonas hunter #mary xavier #arrow #oliver queen #felicity smoak #timeship #ripfic #fluff #AU

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bi-bard · 4 years

Text

You Aren’t Alone... I Promise- Malcolm Bright Imagine (Prodigal Son)

Title: You Aren’t Alone... I Promise

Pairing: Malcolm Bright X Reader (I tried to make this gender neutral)

Requested: Nope!

Word Count: 2,687

Warning(s): Kidnapping, death, mentions of previous murders, general dark subjects so please read with caution

Summary: Malcolm and (Y/n) were always close. (Y/n) had accepted every part of Malcolm, no questions asked. Most people would look at this as something amazing, right? But what if there was something more? What if there was something more to the situation than anyone knew?

Author’s Note: I have been tossing this idea around for so long! I am very excited to writ it but it’s going to be a little bit long so be prepared.

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

“Hello,” I said in a cheery voice, closing the door slowly behind me. My mom walked around the corner and hugged me. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she replied. “What are you doing here?”

“I managed to get ready early so I thought I’d stop by on my way to work,” I shrugged.

“Would you like some coffee,” my mom asked, pointing at her coffee maker. “I just made a fresh pot.”

“That sounds great,” I nodded, walking to her fridge and grabbing out some coffee creamer.

“Have you guys had any interesting cases lately,” she handed me a travel cup, its lid, and a spoon. I shrugged.

“We had a murder last week but nothing too extreme since then,” I replied.

“Well, maybe you should head in so you don’t miss anything,” she stuck her tongue out at me.

“I’m sure talking to you a little bit in the morning won’t make me mi-”

And then my phone started ringing. I groaned and looked at the caller ID. Gil was calling.

“And that’s my queue to go,” I shrugged. My mom pulled me into a tight hug, wishing me good luck.

I quickly answered my phone on my way out, struggling to push open the door with the travel cup and my bag. Gil quickly rambled off a few quick facts as I went jogging out of the apartment.

**Time Skip**

Come at least pick-up a little dinner tonight, I smiled to myself as I read my mom’s text.

She didn’t have to offer me food on a normal basis... I was an adult. She didn’t need to let me steal her coffee. She was always doing the most. Probably more than needed but I loved her more than anything for that.

“I thought I was the only one who smiled at crime scenes,” my smile went from my phone to Malcolm, who was walking over. “How has your morning been?”

“Definitely better than others,” I shrugged, giving him a brief hug. “What about you?”

He raised his eyebrows for a second with a look. That had become a simple signal. Still didn’t get enough sleep, probably didn’t eat, and his mom probably stopped by. I hugged him again, kissing his cheek.

“Okay, we have a crime scene to look at,” I said with a grin. He nodded and grabbed my hand, dragging me over to the scene, and then promptly dropped my hand.

The scene was in an alleyway. It was like the killer was making a show of it all. Who were they entertaining? No one besides themselves. It was disturbing to see or think about.

I was ready to vomit when I walked into the room. A girl was tied up by her wrists. She looked like she was covered in blood. Her hair was matted, her clothes had blood stains and tears in it. Malcolm’s hand briefly touched my back as my face morphed into a look of pure disgust.

“Alright, please fill us in,” I said, looking over to our little team.

“Chloe Morrow, 23, found tied up without her tongue,” I grimaced as Gil relayed the information. “Edrisa has more specifics.”

“Yes,” Edrisa popped her from behind the body. “So... as bloody as she looks... that wasn’t the cause of death.”

“How the hell is that not the cause of death,” J.T asked.

“Well, the cuts were made after the victim had died, something else killed her,” she shrugged. “I don’t quite know what it was but my money would be on an overdose if it wasn’t lack of food or water. She was definitely dead before most of the bigger marks were made.”

“That’s so demented,” I mumbled. “And then to display them in public. God.”

“What are these,” we all looked at Malcolm, who had since walked over and lifted the shirt of the victim.

“Don’t know, it looks like a code but I don’t understand it,” Edrisa replied.

I stepped a little closer, staring at the markings. They were written in pen...thick, black marker. The killer wanted to know that you could see the marks. My eyes widened as it clicked.

“I know what this is,” I said. Everyone gave me the look that they usually give Malcolm, absolutely confused and a little more shocked than they need to be. “It’s Pigpen cipher. I learned it from my... parents.”

“What does it say,” Malcolm asked. I held my hand out, asking for a pen and paper. I quickly jotted down the symbols and filled them in letter by letter. “So?”

“‘I’m home,’“ I answered. “That’s what it says. Why?”

“Edrisa, find the cause of death,” Gil started listing off responsibilities. “Dani and (Y/n), go see if we have files on any other killers that use messages like this.”

**Time Skip**

“Nothing,” I smacked the table. “We’ve been searching for hours and we’ve found fucking nothing!”

“Hey, hey,” Dani stood up from her seat. “We’ll figure this out.”

“I just want answers,” I groaned, grabbing a file and opening it. I read over the general details. “Holy shit.”

“Did you find something,” she asked.

“Unsolved case, the photos are of pigpen cipher, and disturbing injuries,” I handed a few photos over to Dani. “It looks like that last case was almost 13 years ago.”

“Maybe the killer was on the run for a while and now feels like they can come back,” she suggested.

“Or it’s a copycat,” I mumbled, praying that it was only a copycat and not the original killer because... of personal reasons. That’s when the team walked in.

“What did you find,” Malcolm asked, looking right over my shoulder.

“Almost an exact match for our murder,” I answered. “Cipher, injuries, all of it.”

“What does the cipher say,” Gil leaned on the table.

“It looks like quite a few have been translated,” I shrugged. I rambled off a few examples, “‘Faith, money, liar...’“

“They’re all messages, lessons,” Malcolm added. I nodded.

“This guy has a serious John Kramer complex,” I looked at the confused stares from Gil, J.T, and Dani. “Jigsaw? From the Saw movies? The torture-porn ones?”

“Ew,” J.T. mumbled.

“He thinks he’s superior,” I continued explaining. “He thinks he’ll inspire people by completely mutilating others.”

“Disgusting,” J.T grimaced. I nodded.

“The Pigpen Killer,” Malcolm decided. We all looked at him. “What? I can’t give the serial killer a name?”

We all ignored his question as Gil started speaking.

“Alright, we comb through evidence, follow up on any leads they had,” Gil instructed. “We need a list of who to look into. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm playfully saluted before grabbing the file from my hands.

**Time Skip**

“Try and get a little bit of sleep,” I mumbled, kissing Malcolm’s forehead as I went to walk out of the precinct.

“I’ll try,” he replied before fully kissing me. “Get home safe, please.”

“I will,” I promised. “Bye.”

“Goodbye,” he waved at me as I walked off.

I was on high alert the entire walk. I had rounded corners slowly, ready to fight if I needed to. I probably looked insane but I didn’t care. This was exactly what I needed to do.

I thought that everything was perfect. I thought I was being safe... and I was. I thought I was going to be able to go home and relax.

I did get home.

I didn’t get to relax.

I walked in and was met with another person right inside. I was about to scream when a cloth was held over my mouth. I struggled against whoever had grabbed me until I felt a cloud form around my brain as my body went numb. I slowly stopped fighting as everything went black around me.

**Time Skip**

I slowly woke up, blinking and trying to clear my head. The entire night slowly came back to me as I looked around. I was still in my living room. My arms were secured behind me and my legs were tied. There was some kind of cloth tied in my mouth.

My breath picked up when I heard footsteps behind me. I wanted to yell or do something but I couldn’t. I only saw the person’s back as they walked to my table and grabbed a chair, placing it in front of me.

He yanked his hood off. My eyes went wide. He pulled the cloth out of my mouth with a smirk. It wasn’t a copycat. Why couldn’t it be a copycat?

“Dad,” I asked in absolute shock. He chuckled before doing some weird, condescending version of jazz hands.

“Hi,” he said. “Did you like my little code? Did you tell your cop friends or did they figure it out?”

“Why are you here,” I asked. “Why did you come back?”

“Can I not visit my kid,” he replied.

“You were on the run,” I continued. “You probably could have hidden away for the rest of your life. You didn’t need to come back to the city and start killing again.”

“I don’t want to hide,” my dad rolled his eyes. “And I won’t have to.”

“Why,” I mumbled.

“Because you’re going to confess,” he explained, standing up to grab a camera from my closet that typically had my paper towels and other cleaning supplies. My apartment was kind of tiny. “You’re going to confess on camera to the murders of my 13 victims... well... now 14. I go off, never looking over my shoulder again, and you get a cute fluffy prison cell where you might get to eventually see your little boyfriend.”

“If you hurt Malcolm, I swear-”

“I won’t touch him,” my dad rolled his eyes. “I will... however.... kill your mom if you refuse. Remember when she tried to turn me in?”

“You’re psychotic.”

“The police still have me as a suspect because of her,” he ignored me. “Now... she’s tied up in your bathroom. If you refuse, I make a message out of her. If you don’t refuse... it ends. You and your team will never have to deal with me again. Look at the facts. You confess... and I disappear. Deal?”

“How do I know I can believe you,” I asked. “You could just be lying so I’ll play by your rules.”

“Oh my god,” my dad moved and grabbed the back of my chair.

He tilted it back slightly so he could drag me over to my bathroom door. He pushed the door open and there was my mom, tied in place, sobbing, clearly scared out of her mind... and I couldn’t help her. My eyes filled with tears.

“So, do we have a deal,” he repeated. I nodded. “Good... keep yourself together. The crying will give something away.”

He dragged me back to my previous spot and set up the camera. I bit my lip, staring at the floor. I was trying to figure out exactly what I was going to say... and then another thought came to mind.

Malcolm. He was pretty much the perfect profiler. He would know this was fake. Maybe he would know that I wasn’t actually guilty. He could be my hero.

“Ready,” my dad clapped his hands. I nodded slowly. “Okay... and...”

He just pointed to me when he hit record.

“I guess that guilt gets to us all at some point,” I started. “I have fooled everyone since I was in my teens. I used the appearance of innocence to hide everything I did and create a conspiracy around my own father. I am what the police have named the Pigpen Killer. I’m sorry to my team and to everyone who trusted me. It’s time to move forward. It’s time to face the time for my actions. It’s over.”

The camera switched off and my dad clapped again. I jumped at the sound.

“Good job,” he cheered. “All of that in the first take, I’m impressed.”

“Just let my mom and me go,” I hissed as he walked over to my computer. I watched him transfer the video. This was it. The day everything ended.

“I can’t let you call the police after I leave,” he shrugged, finally moving away from the computer. “So we’re going to watch the news of your little video.”

“How are you going to make sure that you don’t get caught if they come here to get me,” I asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” he shrugged, pulling a chair over to sit next to me after turning on the TV.

I couldn’t see anything but I could hear it. My heart started beating faster and faster. This was going to be the end of it all... if Malcolm couldn’t help me. I needed Malcolm to help me.

**Time Skip**

I had started crying once the report started. Not only was the news going, but Ainsley was the one reporting. I could hear her voice crack as she spoke. My shoulders were shaking as I started sobbing. They all thought I was evil. Everyone.

I had gotten to the point where I had given up hope. I was going to jail, my dad was going to go free, and my mom was going to be left on her own. It was over. I was done for.

“I should really be going,” my dad said, as if I wasn’t tied up. “It was nice seeing you, kiddo.”

I just glared at him as he walked around me. I turned my gaze to the ground as he started to untie me. Both of us froze when the door slammed open.

A group of detectives walked in. A few grabbed my dad but I was focused on Malcolm, who had come speed-walking in after them. He was quick to untie my arms before starting on one leg while I started on the other one.

I basically dove off of the chair and hugged him tightly. Malcolm rubbed my back, mumbling quietly in my ear. I moved back for a second.

“My mom,” I said through my sobs. “She’s tied up in the bathroom.”

“Get her,” Malcolm nodded to Dani.

The rest of the event was a blur. Malcolm had guided me outside. I watched my dad get pushed into the back of the cop car. Malcolm wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I finally mumbled, after standing next to him in silence for a long time. “I knew that you’d know I was lying.”

“You didn’t move your body at all,” Malcolm explained. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Thank you,” I repeated before kissing his cheek. “I... I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my dad.”

“It’s alright,” he replied. “It’s just he was still running around and I didn’t want him to hurt you or Ainsley or Jessica or Dani or Gil or-”

“I understand,” Malcolm cupped the sides of my face as he cut me off. “I completely understand, I promise. From one kid with a psychotic dad to another, I understand.”

“Can I stay at your place tonight,” I asked. He nodded softly, kissing my forehead. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, pulling me closer as he started leading me away from the scene.

That night, my name was cleared. With a smile, Ainsley reported that my confession was false and that the true killer has been arrested. My mom was taken care of and protected so she could have a peaceful night’s sleep. Everyone was safe... everyone was home.

The city blew up with the news. Some of them were honoring the victims. Some of them were saying that they knew I was innocent. The internet ran with it; screaming about the false confession from the comfort of their couches.

Malcolm and I just went straight to his apartment. He sat on the couch with me, waiting for me to fall asleep... which I didn’t. We found this quiet peace where no one had to talk. No one had to be scared. It was the only thing I could ask for at that moment.

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False Confidence - Chapter Eleven

Well, we arrived to the last chapter. I already have a few bonus ideas, but those will be short drabbles only. I want to thank you all who followed this story and read through it. I also want to thank @x-lipstickstain-x for sticking with my every idea and even helping with adding more and making it all better. It wouldn't have been the same without you having my back. I really enjoyed writing this and actually feel emotional that it's ending for now. But hopefully you will enjoy this chapter as well and I have a few more things for you to check out if you're done with False Confidence 😊 Have a lovely weekend everyone 🧡

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Chapter Ten | You’re here | Bonus (coming soon)

Spending the whole day after the race with my family felt amazing, after missing out on spending time with them for the past year or so. I was never a huge fan of exploring cities as travelling for the races took away that edge of excitement for me from visiting different countries. It still felt special to fly around the world but in a way my mind always connected it with working and being tired for most of the time we spent away from home. Still, this time having people there who I have been missing every day of the season gave it a completely different feel and the time flew by as we walked through the city, our legs almost dying by the time we finally got back to the hotel.

“ Sometimes I forget that you’re still an athlete and take long runs and walks almost every day. ” Jacob let out a sigh, crashing down on the bench in the hall of the hotel. “ I’m the older one and you can still kick my ass whenever you want. ” He added, making the both of us laugh as I sat down next to him. Even if sometimes siblings could be a pain in the ass, they were usually there to make your life a bit more fun and exciting.

“ Maybe sometimes you should stand up from your pc and do some exercises with me. ” I shrugged a little, bumping our shoulders together. “ I’m probably just as tired as you are though. Only difference is it’s not as visible on me. ” I added, enduring the pain when he poked my side with his elbow, looking up at our parents when they finally came back from the reception.

“ Luckily our rooms were free for the week so we won’t have to move for the next two days. ” Mum said, as we walked to the elevator and got up to our floor. The plan was originally for them to fly home after the race, but as I had to stay a few more days with the team they opted for a longer stay although they will still fly home earlier than I will get to do so.

“ Perfect. Then dinner tonight and we could have breakfast together before my meetings? ” I asked back with a grin just as we stepped out of the elevator and turned right in the hallway. “ Or is tomorrow too early? You guys should sleep in. ” I let out a sigh, realising I was the only one who’s here to work and isn’t on a kind of holiday.

“ I’ll be up anyways, although I can’t talk about the other three. ” She rolled her eyes, looking back at my dad, sister and brother who weren’t paying any attention as they were in deep conversation. “I will accompany you to breakfast, but I think you will have more exciting plans for tonight than enduring us over dinner. ” She added with a smile and I was just about to ask back when I looked forward and spotted Lando leaning on my door.

“ Do you mind? ” I asked, turning back towards her, as their rooms were on the other side of the hallway. “ I can just ask him to push it tomorrow. ” I offered, knowing how they came here to spend time with me finally. I didn’t want to lose that time even if using it for Lando was just as enjoyable.

“ No, never. He also asked me to steal you from us. It’s already settled. ” She squeezed my shoulder gently, stepping into the hug I initiated before we said goodbye to each other and I walked to my room.

“ Good evening. ” Lando had his attention on his phone mostly, but as I got into his proximity it was soon back in his pocket and his eyes landed on me, his smile equivalent to mine. “ I hear that you planned something for me that my family knows about but I don’t. ” I opened up my door and let him inside as well, before closing it again.

“ Yes. I knew you would have family plans, now that they’re here. I didn’t want to waste your precious time with them. ” He shrugged a little, turning back to me when both of us were a bit deeper into the room. “ Mary said they can excuse you from dinner if you want to come with me. ” He added, getting me more curious by every passing second. We spent quite some time together, but since the first few months of last year we never made plans outside of the weekends to meet up.

“ Am I gonna regret saying yes? ” I asked back, part joking and part fearing he planned something that won’t be so much fun for me. “ We all know your taste in programs with friends can be… let’s say strange. ” I let out a sigh when he did seem to understand what I really meant by my questions.

“ I would never force you into something you don’t like… intentionally, that is. ” He shrugged his shoulders, making me laugh as he added that little word that turned the meaning of his sentence just that little bit. “ I know my ideas can be chaotic, but I swear on the next season that you will enjoy it. ” Lando assured me, extending his hand towards me as soon as I seemed ready for the adventure.

“ I can’t really just decline after such sweet words. ” I rolled my eyes a little, making sure I had my phone on me before taking his hand and letting him lead me outside. “ Do I need anything? ” I was a bit confused when we took the elevator to the bottom floor and were about to leave the building as well.

“ No, only your high spirits. We’re not going far, but we do need that car for my plan. ” He pointed towards a more everyday looking vehicle that was waiting for us in the parking lot. Luckily he did have the keys to it already, letting go of my hand so I could get into the passenger’s seat, before he appeared next to me. “ I need approximately 10 minutes to get to our destination. ” He informed me, starting the engine and leaving the well known area of the hotel behind in just a few seconds as he got onto the road immediately.

I was surprised by the car being a normal SUV and not something fancy from his team, but I was sure there was a motive behind the decision. My surprise got even bigger when I saw that the back part of the car was totally blocked off by something, hiding it from anybody inside or outside the car. In the end I didn’t ask any questions, knowing full well everything was there for a reason and I would get to know the full picture soon, and just leant back in my seat. For the first few minutes I thought he’s taking me to the track for some odd reason but then he made a turn that kept us on a road close to the circuit but wasn’t the actual route there. I knew it would be kind of a date as he mentioned planning one as soon as the season is over and we’re both mostly free from team duties. Somehow, and I was really glad this is how it turned out, I wasn’t anxious one bit about the whole idea. If it was with anyone else I probably would have been, but Lando was such a main part of my life that spending time with him could never scare me. Not even when it was a bit more special like a date. Not since we finally realised that we’re both interested in each other, probably years after our families already knew about it. It was always easier to see it from the outside, than to see it while you’re actively being part of the situation.

“ We’re almost there. ” Lando’s voice got me back from my thoughts and when I looked out the window, I quickly realised where we were. We weren’t that far away from the track, but we were looking onto it from quite far up the mountain that was next to it. “ I wouldn’t recommend our destination to someone with a fear of heights. ” He let out a chuckle, parking the car just a few meters later into a little parking lot that was a perfect viewing point, looking onto the city.

“ This is already my favourite place. ” I exclaimed, although my brows furrowed when he reversed into a parking space on the side of the lot, blocking our view completely. When I turned my head towards him he was already turning the engine off and opening his seatbelt. “ Please tell me we’re not hiking. My legs are still dead from walking in the city. ” I let out a huff of breath but got out of the car when he motioned for me to do so. By the time I closed the door to the passenger seat he was already standing at the trunk.

Just as I stepped next to him and was about to ask about his plans, he opened the trunk up and my jaw almost dropped open. I caught myself before my chin could touch the floor at the sight of the set up bedding inside. There were a few pillows, and a bigger duvet with fairy lights around the whole space. My eyes were completely stuck to the sight in front of me and the knowledge that Lando made such an effort with planning everything and also setting this up probably by hand. The fact that things were a bit messy inside just made it even more perfect, letting me know that he did it with his own hands and didn’t just get someone to do it for him. By the time I regained my ability to breath and think he was already sitting on the edge of the trunk, and taking off his shoes to not get the dirt inside. I took an example of him, kicking my sneakers off and carefully climbing into the back of the car. There was no one else in the area, even though it had the perfect view you could have wished for, as it was already quite late and people probably chose either inside activities or stayed in the middle of the city.

“ Do you like it? ” Lando asked, with a curious smile, as I sat back next to him. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sight in front of us but made sure that my nod was visible, so he would get an answer. I didn’t trust my voice to give an actual one to him. “ I’m glad. ” He let out a laugh, getting his arm around my shoulder even though I was already leaning into his side willingly.

“ I’m sorry for doubting you. This is lovely. ” I shook my head with a smile before letting it fall onto his shoulder as I still felt amazed by everything. “ I feel lucky that I’m the one getting to experience this. ” I let out a sigh, looking up at him when he was getting a few little snacks out of a pocket made next to the bedding.

While he was busy getting out the prepared sandwiches, fruits and little chocolate bars I couldn’t help but take my phone out and take a few photos of the view and also the decoration of the trunk. I could truly stay and maybe even sleep in there if I didn’t know how unsafe that could be. Still, I felt overwhelmed that he made something so personal for us to spend some time in and be able to just relax and talk after, not even a few but a bunch of, busy months spent racing cars and training almost every day. Our jobs were a blessing but it could tire a person out both physically and mentally for the end of the season. Sometimes it felt like the off season was never long enough to fully recharge our batteries, but I felt like we still couldn’t complain too much about the hardships of our lives. I looked back, locking and putting my phone away, when he was handing a few of them to me and I needed both hands. I could easily recognise a few of my favourite desserts and also sandwiches, which made me smile even though it was a basic act of kindness in most people’s books.

“ Thank you for planning all of this. I don’t remember the last time someone outside my family did something like this for me. ” I shook my head a little, letting it rest onto his shoulder as soon as he stopped moving. “ Although, I’m not sure I remember the last time we had time to be normal human beings. ” I let out a sigh, just watching the view, before my eyes travelled further down, landing on the still illuminated circuit which anyone could easily make out from here.

“ And that’s the easiest way to lose yourself while you think you’re still the same. ” He agreed in a way, and even though I would have tried to defend myself a few weeks ago, now I knew I was as guilty as anyone else. I let my job take over my life and even though I still made memories it will always be a year that feels lost from my life. “ That’s exactly why we won’t let that happen again. ” He added, poking my side with his elbow, before his arm came up around my shoulder, letting me rest my head back onto his arm.

“ Thank you. For everything. ” I told him, looking up at him with a small smile. “ Even when I messed up you were there to help me. ” I rolled my eyes a little at the memories of all the mistakes I made.

“ We both made mistakes, but we will learn from them. ” Lando shrugged a little, with a tiny smile, and when my eyebrows shot up at the philosophic thoughts he let out a laugh. “ I can be intelligent sometimes too… ” He rolled his eyes, squeezing my shoulder a little as a laugh got out of me as well.

We soon got on with eating all the food, getting through almost everything he prepared for us in around half an hour. At first he wanted to put on some music, but in the end we pulled up Netflix, continuing the show we started in Bahrain. As soon as the containers were away from us I didn’t hold back anymore and rested my legs over his thighs. It meant I could turn more towards him and as much as I could read his body language and the arm around my waist, he didn’t seem to mind either. I only took a few more pictures of the setup and the totally dark sky as well as a selfie of the both of us, sending them all to Lando too. I knew he would ask for them and I rather got it over with before I would forget it. I knew we would always remember this night, but I wanted to make sure with having a few pics that we could look back on and maybe get some physical copies of them too for decoration at home. We both were the kind who liked keeping picture frames around filled with our best memories from our life.

Another half an hour later we reluctantly got out of the trunk, and taking the front seats headed back to the hotel. I couldn’t get the smile off of my face, but as much as I could see Lando was in the same situation. I’ve never been more grateful for an automatic gear change than when he decided to just hold my hand whenever he didn’t need two hands on the steering wheel. Sadly we couldn’t prolong our drive for too much longer, as sitting in the parking lot wasn’t the best choice comfort wise. It felt like we would break the moment by getting out of the car, but in the end we forced ourselves to step outside and head up to our rooms. We left everything as it was in the junk, but I was sure Lando would pack it together either tomorrow or before giving back the car on the day he had to fly back to the UK. While we got up to our floor I sent off a message into our family group chat, informing everyone that we’re back at the hotel and wishing them goodnight, although I was sure most of them must be asleep already.

“ Do you have an early morning tomorrow? ” I asked Lando when we got to my door, and still didn’t feel like letting go of the day yet. “ I would be up for one more movie before ending today. ” I offered and as soon as he didn’t move away towards his own room I knew he was in.

“ Just some meetings before lunch. Nothing that would mean I have to go to bed early. ” He shrugged and waited for me to finally open the door. “ We watched your favourite anyways, so now I get to choose and we’re even. ” He offered, making me laugh but give in nevertheless. He made it seem like I would suffer through a movie that he chose, even though our taste was pretty similar.

We quickly set up the TV and the couch to continue our movie night just without snacks as my room had nothing to offer. It was the perfect way to end our night and also start our next day. I may have been a bit more tired than desired for a day full of programs, but it was still worth it. I had enough days ahead of me to use for sleeping and getting back into a less race-centric lifestyle, before I would be travelling home and fully letting go of responsibilities. We officially closed the season in our books, going over everything just once more to make sure we wouldn’t forget anything while we step away from racing. Of course only until the break was over, but there was enough time until I would have to think about something that was in connection with the team or the car. The meetings took up a few days, but I was still lucky when the team announced that we would be free sooner, as some meetings were brought forward.

I was seconds away from boarding the plane that would take me back to the UK when my phone went off. As soon as I tapped onto the notification it opened up his newest Instagram post, where I was met with two very familiar pictures. Not because I took them or saw them before but because I was part of them. For an outsider it was hard to tell who was actually in the picture from his birthday dinner and our date, but luckily I could easily connect the dots after living through the moments. The short ‘Exciting season, but now onto something new and even more exciting until we’re back in the paddock ✌️‘ description got a grin onto my face and I immediately opened my own gallery. I easily chose a picture where we were clinking our champagne glasses together and one of the views from our date night. It was probably enough for them to connect the dots as well but also left enough questions about who might be the other person.

The thought that he would see my post as well but won’t know that I’m already on a plane back home, made me smile even wider. I intentionally held back from posting anything that could give my plan away, and kept it a surprise for when I could finally knock on his door. He already planned out our whole week before we would get back to our families for Christmas celebrations, so it was my turn to make it even more exciting for the both of us. I might have only won ourselves just one or two plus days, but it was still more than nothing after how much we spent separately.

Boarding the plane, taking off and then landing went smoothly. I even got my baggage back in just a few minutes, letting me move on and get out of the building before most people would have the chance to steal all the taxis. I could have asked him to pick me up, but that would ruin the surprise and I really didn’t mind getting a ride to his house. The only thing I hoped was that they didn’t decide to go out for this one evening during the week, and I will find them at home to let me inside. Usually they either made plans with their friends at their own house, but knowing my luck today would be the only occasion when they decided otherwise. Just as I would have given up and texted Lando, messing up the whole surprise idea, I got another notification from his Instagram profile. He was letting everyone know that he will be streaming a bit later, which was perfect news that let me relax into my seat with a happy sigh.

I surprised myself that the idea of not getting to spend tonight exclusively with him didn’t bother me. Even though I knew we had several days to spend together without any public plans I still thought it would irritate me that we would lose the time I flew early for. The idea of getting to spend the time in his proximity was enough to make me feel content already, although I was still a few minutes away from the house that was my destination. I got some music going in my earphone to make the time go a bit faster and by the time I got through the album the driver was turning off the main road. A wide smile got onto my face as soon as I could recognize the neighbourhood and the houses that were just a walking distance from Lando’s. I quickly got my hand luggage ready for the moment when the car parked down and I officially arrived at the address I had given him at the start of our journey. Luckily he still helped me get all my stuff out of the trunk, from where I could easily pull everything to the front door and finally ring the bell.

“ Oh, what a surprise! You’re quite early. ” Max grinned at me as soon as he opened the door to me. He took two of my suitcases without a question, leaving only one for me to pull inside when he stepped aside. “ He’s in the shower, but should be finishing up pretty soon. I’m sure he won’t mind you packing out while waiting. ” He offered another smile in my way, leading me upstairs where I already knew which one was Lando’s room.

“ Getting off early would be a waste of time if I didn’t fly home earlier. ” I shrugged a little, letting go of my luggage either putting it on the bed or just pulling it right next to it. “ Can I help with anything while he’s busy? ” I asked Max, glancing towards the bathroom from where we could both hear the water still running.

“ No, no. We have everything ready. ” He shook his head, heading out of the room already. “ There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you feel hungry, and of course just feel yourself at home. ” He added, to which I quickly mouthed my thanks before turning to my bags.

I didn’t plan to unpack everything right then and there, but I thought getting my chargers and laptop out might be a better idea. I had enough time to send out a text to both my parents and Dan, as he insisted to know about my arrival, before I could hear the water sounds coming to a stop in the bathroom. It took another few minutes for the door to shoot open with Lando stepping out from behind it before coming to a full stop. He seemed scared and shocked for a second, before his facial expression turned into one of joyful surprise.

“ Well, hello there. ” Lando smiled at me, dropping his towel on the bed not far away from me. “ This is a surprise I’m glad to be a part of. ” He added, just before finally pulling me into a hug that I gladly returned. “ What happened to your plan of getting a tan finally? ” He asked me as my hands came up around his neck.

“ My own british ray of sunshine seemed like a better choice. ” I let out a sigh, shrugging gently as my head rested right next to my arm. “ They rescheduled my meetings, bringing them forward in order to lengthen my break by a few days. ” He hummed at my explanation and I could feel his arms around my middle tighten.

“ I’m glad you’re here early. The more time we have the merrier. ” Lando pulled back, letting go of me reluctantly as my arms fell down to my sides as well. “ Do you need help packing out? ” He glanced at all the bags around his bed, but I just shook my head.

“ Just some clothes to sleep in and for tomorrow. I’m leaving everything else as it is right now. ” I turned away a little to open up the suitcase that I knew had most of my everyday clothing inside. “ You’re streaming tonight, right? ” I asked, pulling out the pieces I was looking for, praising myself mutely for putting them all on the top.

“ That was the plan, but with you being here early we can change it. ” He shrugged, watching me intently but somehow it didn’t make me feel weird.

“ No, no, it’s okay. I would rather just take a shower and rest while maybe watching you. Your fans have waited enough during the season. ” I shrugged a little, turning towards him and letting a smile get on my face when I fully took in the situation. Since he shared the idea of us spending some time together prior to Christmas, it was the only thing my thoughts were running around. “ You still have the beanbag in the room? ” I asked, taking the towels and sleeping clothes that were already laid out on the bed for my shower.

“ Not right now, but I can get it inside while you’re showering. ” He offered with a smile and I immediately answered with a nod, even though it wasn’t really a question. It was probably my favourite place to sit and watch him while I lived with them at the start of the year, until everything went to shit between us. “ I swear we will do everything we planned for tomorrow and Christmas, and I’m not bringing the fans there. You just surprised me. ” His arms pulled me into a tight hug, and I gladly circled my arms around his neck too. Even though hugs were already a big part of our friendship, now it felt a bit more special.

“ That was the plan, and we have all the time we need to do things. Do not think I’m sad we’re not going for a run or a hike as soon as I get off the plane. ” I let out a quiet laugh, making sure not to deafen him with the sound. “ My head needs a bit of time to realise where I am anyways. A good night’s sleep and it’s like I’m brand new. ” I added, his lips leaving a few quick kisses on my shoulder before leaning back a little.

“ Go shower, stinky. I’m gonna set your ‘bed’ up meanwhile. ” Lando left a kiss on my lips before passing me and leaving the room, while I felt like my feet grew roots into the ground. I didn’t even realise the nickname quick enough to do anything, even though he ran out of the room knowing I would take revenge.

It was hard to get used to being so close to him after how distant we were the whole year. Every little act of affection left me breathless for a few moments, and I could only hope my body would get used to it in due time. Even if I welcomed the feeling and all the butterflies he caused, I knew it would be quite awkward to act like this when we got back to the track in a few months. This once I appreciated the thought of working with separate teams and only meeting during races and outside work. My only hope was that we would get out of the honeymoon stage by the first race of the new season, giving us the chance to work around each other in the usual professional manner. We managed it well even when we weren't on the best terms, not letting our feelings get involved while doing our jobs. He may have commented saltily after I teased him a bit, but we never really did harm to each other.

In the end I somehow got myself to the bathroom and finally started the water in the shower cubicle so it would have time to heat up. It was one of the best feelings to finally rinse all the travel off my body, even though I did nothing but get on a flight and then let Lando get me from the airport to his house. Bus or car travels usually felt even worse, although you never actually did anything to get dirty. It was mostly just the tiredness and soreness, which the shower, although did not erase, at least made it less alarming in a way. Most of the time the feeling disappeared after a good night’s sleep, but I didn’t want to waste our first evening together due to falling asleep alone. The least I wanted to achieve is staying up while he streamed and then going to sleep together. His gameplay was highly entertaining anyways, which made the thought of me staying awake a bit more believable even as I could feel my eyes closing as I stood under the warm water.

Somehow I got myself out of the cubicle before sleep could take over my body, and quickly toweled myself off. I pulled the fresh clothes on, leaving the dirty ones in his laundry basket, before leaving the bathroom. There was already a sweater in my hand to pull over my head, when I saw one of his laying around on the bed. Even though it was a McLaren one I couldn’t care less until we were inside and there was no one to see us. It would have started a bit of drama and rumours probably if it got out of here, but in front of him I had nothing to fear. In this career it was easier to have friends from work, as they already knew all the rules about social media posting and just keeping up the public’s opinion of us. Them judging our friendship was a big blow already, we didn’t need anything else they could hold up against me or Lando.

Taking my phone from the bedside table I just made sure to turn all the lights off on my way to his streaming room. His door was slightly ajar, his voice coming out of the room, letting me know he was already in a game. It wouldn’t have held me back normally, but knowing I wouldn’t like my short sleeping shorts to be part of a clip, I rather went down to the kitchen until he finished the round. It was enough time to make a cup of tea for the both of us, and to take a few biscuits too. With the off season I wasn’t always as strict as we had to be for our training and Lando wasn’t any better either. When the cups were finally full I put the kettle back, and went back upstairs with them, pushing his door in with my foot.

“ Can you cover the cam for a sec? ” I asked him, knowing that his mic wouldn’t pick up my voice. “ I don’t really want your stream talking about my clothing. ” I added when he turned towards me with a questioning gaze, but then let out a chuckle when he took in my outfit. I could see him moving his hand up, covering the lens and taking the second cup of tea from my hands when I was standing next to him.

“ Thank you. ” He smiled up at me when I left two of the biscuits next to where he put down the drink, passing him finally so he could uncover his webcam. “ Looks good on you though. ” His face had a smirk on it as he looked at me for a second, before it turned into laughter as I flipped him off but couldn’t help the smile getting on my face at the same time.

“ Put those eyebrows away. ” I rolled my eyes as I could see him lifting one of them, the smirk getting back onto his face. He was lucky that there was only one pillow and I wasn’t about to give it up so I could throw it at him. My other choice would have been a helmet of his from the window sill, but that would have caused too much pain. I wasn’t about to actually injure him for some bad jokes.

While he turned back to his screen, a grin still visible on his lips, I carefully sat down on the giant beanbag, making sure my tea wouldn’t be kicked over as I placed it a bit away from myself with my ‘dessert’ next to it. There was already a blanket thrown next to me, that I gladly pulled over my legs and laid back comfortably. With how soft the beanbag was I almost got swallowed up in it, but at the same time it felt like you were laying down on a cloud. I already couldn’t imagine getting up from my position, having my phone with his stream on propped up, as I couldn’t really see his screen from where I was. It was around half an hour later when my eyes started closing and I let sleep take over me without much of a fight. Not even Lando’s shouts could keep me awake, although I remembered opening my eyes to a slit for a second when the blanket was pulled higher up my body, until he sat back down in his chair.

What I couldn’t remember was getting into bed next to Lando, where I woke up the next morning. For once I was glad to be an early bird, waking up well before he did, giving me a bit of time to just enjoy lazing around. It wasn’t like Lando wouldn’t be okay with just laying around all day long, but neither of us wanted to waste the time we finally had to spend together, on sleeping and staying inside. Although we didn’t want to travel around the world after the season, a bit of hiking and some walks around the countryside felt like the perfect plans. Mark and Jon would have been proud of us thinking about fitness during the off-season, right until they would see the food we have around the house in between the walks and runs. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them anyways, and as neither of us would betray the other, the secret was safe in our hands.

While Lando was still asleep I went down for a glass of water, slipping back into the bed afterwards, and going onto my phone to keep myself busy until he woke up. Instagram just opened up on my screen when a notification popped up from Max tagging me in his story. Opening it up I saw a video of him coming up the stairs and panning his camera around before pushing Lando’s game room door inside a bit and first showing how he was playing, then me as I was already asleep, wrapped up in the blanket over me. The text ‘When you think you’re entertaining, but even your own girlfriend falls asleep watching you...’ made me snicker. I reacted to it with a cry-laughing face, before sharing it onto my own story with a small red heart in one of the corners. For a second I almost discarded it, but then somehow I gathered enough courage to tap the posting button. Lando started stirring awake with perfect timing, distracting me from my thoughts and making me lock my phone and put it away.

“ Good morning. ” I smiled at him, turning a little so I could face him, while his arm came up around my waist. He grumbled something, shimmying closer to me and hiding his face into my pillow as he was mostly on my side of the bed now. “ You’re the worst a person can get in the morning. ” I let out a laugh, my fingers brushing through his curls that were out of control from sleeping.

“ I think it could be worse. ” Lando murmured, his hand running over my back for a second. “ Did you see what Max posted? ” He asked, looking up at me with curiosity and maybe a bit of surprise in his eyes when I nodded a little, a smile staying on my face.

“ Yes. I don’t mind, even if I panicked for a second right after seeing it. They know about us already and also knew I was there last night. ” I shrugged a little, leaving a kiss on his cheek before cuddling closer to him. “ Running away isn’t an option I’m giving myself this time. ” I promised him, closing my eyes and just hugging him back tightly. I have run from my feelings enough in the last few months for my whole life I think.

“ Glad to hear that. I missed you during last season and I’m not letting go of you now. ” His arm tightened around me even more for a second, but it only made me smile wider. “ We’re lucky it’s winter break and we’re only going home but still spending time together. ” He let out a content sigh and I had to agree with him. Separating after the Abu Dhabi GP was painful even if it was for just a few days or the flights to the next country.

“ Just us, family and free time. What more could we wish for? ” I let out a chuckle, knowing quite well he was still stressed about standing in front of my parents as a boyfriend instead of a best friend. They still liked him and weren’t about to ban us from each other, but I couldn’t reason with him about this. Not until he experienced it for himself.

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years

Text

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 3/5

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“...and then we saw the lions, but they were sleeping so they weren’t very scary. And the otters were so cute, and they came right up to the glass when they were swimming underwater!”

Eddie smiles as Chris recounts their day at the zoo to his parents over FaceTime. The monthly calls had been their idea, a way for them to stay up to date on Chris’s life in between holidays and summer visits. It was also their way of having a scheduled time to nitpick Eddie’s life from 800 miles away.

He loves his parents, he does. He just loves them more when they aren’t speaking.

“Your face looks a little red, sweetheart, were you wearing sunscreen today?” his mother asks, face getting too close to the camera as she inspects her grandson.

“Yeah, Dad put some on me when we got there.”

“Did he put on any more during the day?” Her eyes shifted to Eddie, perched next to Chris on the couch. “You know you need to reapply every two—”

“Yes, Mom, I did. And it’s getting late so we should really get going, say goodbye buddy—”

“Wait! I didn’t show them my snakes!” Chris rifles through his backpack underneath the coffee table, yanking out a folder and flipping through it until he finds the drawings he and Buck worked on. He holds them up triumphantly, angling them so his grandparents could see. “Buck helped me with them!”

“And Buck is…”

“Dad, you know who Buck is. My friend that owns the tattoo shop?” He tries not to ignore how calling Buck his “friend” feels like a disservice to all that he really is, how it tastes like sand in his mouth.

“He’s an awesome artist,” Chris pipes in. “He has huge books in the shop of all the stuff he can do, and sometimes he lets me watch when he’s working!”

His parents blanche at that, and Eddie is really not prepared to have this argument right now. He and Chris had a great day together, a rare day when he wasn’t in the shop for any reason, leaving it in Hen’s more than capable hands. They had a lot of fun at the zoo, were getting ready for a Marvel double feature in their living room, and Eddie was in an honest-to-god good mood, for once not plagued by lingering stress or ambiguous sadness. He’s not about to let any outside judgements ruin that.

“I think it’s time to go. Chris, can you say goodnight and go get your pajamas on?” Chris waves as he grabs his crutches and heads to his room. Eddie turns back to say a quick goodbye, but his dad clears his throat before he can speak.

“You leave your son alone in a tattoo parlor?”

“He’s not alone, Dad, he’s with Buck and all the other adults that work there. Plus it’s only in a pinch.”

“Eddie, do you really think those are the kind of people you should be leaving Christopher with?” his mother asks, a look of contempt masked by concern on her face.

Eddie takes a slow breath in and out through his nose. No use in giving them more ammo by getting angry. “Just because you don’t like their business doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“We just want to make sure Christopher is—”

“He’s fine. He’s happy when he’s learning to draw with Buck. I’m not going to take that away from him just because you don’t like it. Now we have to go, we’ll talk to you later.” He hits the red end button before they can protest any further. He tips his head back to rest on the couch and scrubs a hand over his face, his good mood now tinged with prickly frustration.

He thinks his parents mean well, but they’ve always been forceful when it comes to Chris, especially after Shannon left. It’s like they knew, somehow, how lost Eddie was on his own, how scared he was that every little thing he did was setting Chris up for failure, and took every opportunity to fix something he was doing or tell him he was wrong. That he didn’t actually know what Chris needed since he had been gone for so long.

Eventually, Eddie started believing them.

But when Mrs. Negrelli gave him the money to start his own shop, he didn’t just see it as a fresh start for himself, but for Chris too. Eddie would be able to take them anywhere, away from the looming disappointment of his parents, and give himself the opportunity to figure out how to best be the dad that Chris needed. And if the past year is any indication, he knows he made the right choice, a credit he isn’t usually able to give himself. He’s not perfect, still second guesses himself constantly, but Chris gets invited to birthday parties and sleepovers and gets As on his report card, so something must be working.

Chris comes back from his room, Spider-Man pajamas on, handing Eddie the remote to queue up the first movie. He’s happily chattering about all the cool things Spider-Man’s costume does in the movie, and as he settles into Eddies’s side, head resting on his chest, Eddie feels the prickliness subside, replaced by the contentment he only ever feels around his son.

They’re good here. Chris is happy here. That’s all that matters to Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sundays are Eddie’s favorite days in the shop — traffic is usually slow, so he has time to plan out orders for the rest of the week and make sure their inventory is in check. It’s a little monotonous, but it eats up about four hours of time and gives him a break from any real thinking, so he feels almost relaxed by the time he’s done stocking cases. He has the added bonus of Chris and Buck’s conversation in the back room as background noise, interspersed with the occasional yell and slap of the table and Buck teaches him a new card game. The melody of Chris’s laugh and the harmony of their voices soothes him even more than usual, quiets some of the lingering annoyance from his call with his parents.

As he heads into the back room to grab the last boxes of peonies, Chris beckons him over to the table where he and Buck have been stationed since breakfast. It’s become a bit of a tradition: Buck brings muffins or bagels from Bobby and Athena’s bakery on Sundays and hangs out until the afternoons when his earliest appointments are scheduled (I refuse to tattoo anyone while they’re hungover from Saturday, Eddie. It’s not good for them and the extra complaining is certainly not good for me.).

Maybe that’s another reason Sundays are his favorite days. Add that to the list of secret feelings involving Buck that are following him to the grave.

“Dad! Look, I colored Buck’s skull purple!” Chris says as Eddie comes behind his chair, bracketing him in with his arms on the table. Chris giggles as Eddie kisses the top of his head, leaning over him for a closer look. Buck’s latest tattoo is indeed a bright shade of purple, the roses surrounding it colored in blue.

“I told him I like cooler colors and he ran with it,” Buck says. Eddie’s eyes shift to Buck’s face, and he feels his heart stutter when he sees the soft, fond smile directed at Chris. It stutters again when Buck’s eyes meet his, that familiar warmth settling over him as Buck’s smile gets bigger, and he feels good enough, relaxed enough, that it actually soaks into his skin. Buck’s gaze flits down to Eddie’s arm where it’s still bracketing Chris, a crease appearing right between his eyebrows. The urge to lean over and kiss it away is unbelievably sudden and strong, and Eddie silently congratulates himself for keeping it together.

“Your ink looks a little faded there, Eds. I can fix it up for you, if you want.”

Eddie looks at the script on his arm, twisting it back and forth to see the whole thing. Buck’s right, the ink does look duller. Makes sense for a tattoo he got on his 18th birthday that he definitely didn’t take care of properly.

Fortalecer la mente y superar el cuerpo. Strengthen the mind and overcome the body. When he was young and invincible, that seemed like all he needed. A clear head, clear purpose, clear desires, and he’d be able to do anything he wanted. If he followed the rules and did everything right, he’d get a happy ending.

But, once again, it hadn’t been enough. And now, looking at that tattoo just reminds him of the ways he’s failed. How he hasn’t been able to make his mind into anything resembling strong, how there are days when he’s so weak even basic functions take too much effort. How a happy ending is feels so far away he can’t remember what one even looks like.

He shrugs, hand rubbing the tattoo unconsciously. “Maybe, I kinda just want to let this one fade out though. Maybe get a different one somewhere else.”

“Well, my offer of a free tattoo still stands, just name the day.” Buck says.

Chris gasps and twists around in his seat, eyes bright with excitement. “Can I help you pick it out? Can I draw it? I’m good at lots of stuff now, and Buck can help!”

And he’s not sure what it is — the smile on Chris’s face at the idea, Buck’s matching one, the lingering frustration with his parents transforming into rebellion (something he hasn’t felt since he last got a tattoo), or a combination of the three. But before he can think too hard about it, he hears himself saying:

“You know what? Why not. I’ll get another tattoo, and you guys can design it.”

They cheer and high five each other, Chris hugging Eddie tight around the middle.

“But,” Eddie says, “I do want final approval. And no cartoon characters.”

“I promise, Dad, it’ll be the best tattoo ever!” Chris grabs his nearby notebook and starts doodling, chattering happily about what he thinks will look good. Buck catches his eye again and winks, and Eddie’s returning smile is the easiest it’s ever been.

He grabs the boxes he came back for and goes to the front, still smiling as he hears Buck and Chris very seriously discuss the details of what Eddie should get. He’s not nervous, really, but he does say a silent prayer to whoever is listening that they don’t pick something too big or too bold. He loves them both, but not that much.

~~~~~~~~~~

They take about a week to design it and are so secretive they might as well be planning a jewel heist. It seems like every time Eddie walks into a room, they’re there with their heads pressed together, whispering over sheets of paper and pens. When Eddie tries to sneak a peek, they quickly hide everything away so he can’t see. Buck throws his whole body on the table at one point just to cover up the sketches.

Again, he’s not nervous. But the anticipation does start to get to him.

Finally, after a busy Saturday full of wedding deliveries, they announce that the design is complete, and Eddie is scheduled at Armageddon the following Friday evening. Chris already has a sleepover with Denny that night and won’t be able to come, but he makes Eddie double pinky promise to send pictures to Hen as soon as it’s done.

It’s Friday now, and Eddie is all set up at Buck’s station in the back of the shop, waiting to see the final product of Buck and Chris’s hard work. He is a little nervous now, but he mostly blames that on Buck, who keeps looking over the sketchpad, pen in hand like he wants to make last minute changes, or like something isn’t quite right.

“Just show me, Buck,” Eddie says after a few minutes of watching Buck bite his lip in worry. Whatever the design is, he’s sure he’ll love it, if for no other reason than because of the two people who made it.

“Okay, okay. You can be honest if you don’t like it, but I think you’re gonna like it.”

He flips the paper over, turning it towards Eddie. It’s a crescent of flowers, an unfinished wreath, featuring moonflowers, Eddie’s favorite, with their starburst centers spiraling open, and ox-eye daisies, which he knows Chris loves. Sprigs of lavender and thyme fill in the gaps, and there’s a small bee floating around the center. It’s beautiful and a little chaotic, but it’s perfect. Reminders of his son and peace and courage that he’ll be able to carry with him always, that he’ll be able to look at when he forgets that he is capable of bravery or deserving of peace. He stares at the sketch, taking in every detail, for who knows how long. Buck clears his throat to get his attention.

“Chris thought the daisies and moonflowers would look good together, and they’re both white so no need for color. I thought the herbs would be nicer than just plain leaves. And he wanted it in a ‘C’ shape, you know, for Christopher.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “And the bee?”

“Chris thought that would be cute, too, but you can nix that if you want.” There’s a faint blush dusting Buck’s cheeks as his eyes track down to the bee in question. “So, what do you think? Any major changes? You can tell me if you hate it, I won’t tell Chris.”

He looks up and Buck’s eyes are excited and worried all at once. Eddie would do anything to take the worry away, but at least this time it’s an easy fix.

“I don’t hate it, it’s perfect,” he says, handing the sketch back to Buck and settling back in the chair. “Let’s do this.”

Buck smiles brightly as he grabs an antiseptic wipe, holding Eddie’s right arm steady as he wipes down the area just below his elbow crease where the tattoo will go. Eddie knew he wanted it there as soon as he’d agreed to get one — he’d be able to see it easily when he needed to, and he liked that it matched the placement of his current one, would almost be replacing it if the words ever fully faded away. Once it’s cleaned, Buck puts a temporary transfer of the design there to trace over, starts up the tattoo machine, and loads the ink. The low buzzing of the machine mixes with the music playing and soft conversation coming from other clients in the shop, washing over Eddie like white noise.

Buck takes his arm again, machine in hand, and locks his eyes on Eddie. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You can yell if it hurts too bad, just try not to pass out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, says “It’ll be—” before cutting off with an involuntary hiss as the needle touches his skin. Buck snorts, and Eddie does his best to glare but feels it fall short.

He hadn’t worried about the pain — he vaguely remembered the sensation of being stabbed over and over again and didn’t remember it hurting that bad. He had also been shot before, so he figured he’d be able to handle it.

What he hadn’t taken into account was that for the next two hours or so, he and Buck would be very close together, close enough that Eddie can feel Buck’s breath on his arm as he traces over the outline, feels his strong hand on his wrist as he keeps Eddie from twitching. He had never been this close to Buck, had never allowed himself to be, and now that he is, he’s not sure how to act. He tries to look anywhere else, takes in the art on the wall, watches the other clients with Maddie and Chimney. He tries to make a to-do list for the weekend in his head, go over the things Chris will need for school next week, mentally figure out the designs for next week’s orders.

It’s all in vain, though, because no matter what, his eyes always drift back to Buck. From here, he can take in everything, and for once, he lets himself, because who knows when he’ll have this opportunity again.

Buck’s brow is furrowed in concentration, blue eyes dark as they focus. He can almost count every eyelash, and his birthmark stands out even more than usual, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Eddie itches to reach out and touch it, feel how soft he imagines Buck’s skin to be under his fingertips. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and beautiful, and Eddie wonders again how anyone could resist them. How someone could look at this man, have even one conversation with him, and decide they didn’t want more. He’s biting his lip as he finishes the first moonflower, and it turns and even darker pink as he releases it. Eddie gets a little lost imagining how those lips would feel on his, how gentle and warm and good. He imagines feeling them on his shoulder as they wake up on a Saturday morning, sees them laughing as they both make breakfast, trading kisses as they go. He wants to taste them, feel them moving down his neck, down his chest, wrapping around his—

He inhales quickly and shakes his head, because this is not the time nor the place to go down that particular road. Thankfully, Buck’s still in his own little world, eyes never leaving Eddie’s arm. He must mistake Eddie’s movement for discomfort, because he moves his free hand down from his wrist until they’re holding hands, Buck’s thumb moving slowly back and forth in comfort.

“You can squeeze if it hurts too bad,” he mutters, still not looking up. Thank god too, because Eddie can feel his face go bright red and his heart start working overtime.

The first pass takes about an hour, and they take a break so Eddie can stretch his legs and Buck can get more ink. There’s still some detailing left to do, but Eddie already can’t stop staring at the tattoo. It looks even better than the sketch, and having a tribute to his son literally branded on his skin fills a fiercely paternal part of him like nothing else ever has. There’s also a smug part that’s still 17 years old and can’t wait to see the looks on his parents’ faces when they have their next video call.

Buck finishes getting set up again and Eddie settles back in the chair. It’s quieter now — they’re the only two on the floor, Maddie and Chimney having finished up and moved to the back room, and the music playing over the speakers is something slower, stripped down, seems to filter into the room and soften all the hard edges of the world. Buck catches his eye from where he’s sitting, asking silent permission to start. Eddie nods, and he feels his heart swell when Buck automatically grabs his hand again.

He’s got maybe 45 more minutes in this proximity to Buck, and he takes full advantage: notes the way his curls are starting to fall loose after a long day, tries to catalogue each shift of his face, every twitch of concentration, the shadow of his stubble growing in. Getting to study him like this — memorize the details of the beautiful face that houses an even more beautiful soul — makes all the feelings Eddie’s been trying to fight for months now bubble to the surface, fizzing inside of him like pop bubbles.

But there’s a chill that settles in as well, because despite his heart desperately pulling him towards this man, he reminds himself once again that he can’t have this. He can’t let himself have this, can’t do that to Buck. He’s supposed to be forgetting about his feelings, releasing them so they can both be happy — Buck with someone who deserves him and Eddie...alone. With Chris, but still. Alone. And now he has to wrestle with that while a slide show of Buck’s every facial feature plays through his head on a likely infinite loop.

He can’t forget as easily as he thought. If he’s honest, there’s a small, hopeful part of himself that doesn’t want to forget, that never wanted to forget, and it’s getting louder and harder to ignore with each passing minute.

“Done!” Buck says as he turns off the machine and wipes away the last of the excess ink. Eddie looks at the finished product, a soft smile settling on his lips. He looks up and sees Buck watching him, looking hopeful. “What do you think?”

Eddie’s finger hovers over a daisy reverently. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers, smile spreading as he meets Buck’s eye again. “Thank you, Buck.”

Buck returns the smile, squeezing Eddie’s hand where they’re still clasped together, neither of them moving to let go. They’re still in each other’s bubble, close enough that Eddie can still count Buck’s eyelashes, and he watches Buck watch him for a moment. His eyes roam his face like he too is cataloging Eddie from here, and that hopeful voice is convincing him that from where they’re sitting, it’d be so easy to lean in and confirm exactly what Buck tastes like, how his lips would feel under his own. Just six inches away from allowing himself to be happy, because he can’t imagine being anything else with Buck.

His phone goes off from his pocket, immediately bursting the bubble, both of them flinching as the loud trill fills the shop. They both know it’s Chris, but he still looks at Buck apologetically, like it’s his fault for shattering whatever atmosphere they’d just been living in. Buck just waves toward the phone, squeezing his hand one more time before letting go to clean up his station. He talks to Chris for a bit, showing him the tattoo from every angle, and Chris talks to Buck as well, gushing about what a great job Buck did. Buck blushes at the praise, and that tug of want pulls at Eddie again.

They hang up and Eddie gathers his things while listening to Buck’s strict aftercare instructions, both heading to the front door so Buck can lock up.

“Are you sure I can’t pay you?” Eddie asks.

“I told you it was on the house and I meant that. Plus it’s nice to work on someone I actually care about.”

Eddie feels his face get warm, hopes the neon lights in the window are bright enough to cover it up. It gets warmer as they continue looking at each other, neither willing to break their little bubble again. He thinks he sees Buck move more toward him, like he wants to get closer, but he stops himself before following through, leaning back on his heels instead, looking sheepish.

“Goodnight, Eddie. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eddie waves as he leaves, stepping into the cool night to walk back to the apartment. He keeps glancing down at his arm on the walk and while he’s getting ready for bed, thinking of the care Chris and Buck both put into creating it. That small voice in his head keeps nagging him, saying Buck wouldn’t do something like this, something this personal, for just anyone. He complains about his clients enough for Eddie to know that’s true.

Maybe the voice is on to something. As he falls asleep, Eddie lets himself think that maybe, maybe, on top of everything, on top of two years of friendship and flowers and looks that make Eddie’s insides flutter, maybe these feelings he’s been trying to ignore aren’t as one sided as he thought.

Maybe he has a chance.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fox #buddie fic #9-1-1 fic #YES this is the longest chapter because i can't stfu about buck #WHATEVER

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