#unending embarrassment but he's probably secretly loving this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ayatosmlktea · 4 years

Note

Can you please do a college au where levi overhears reader singing one time and immediately falls for her and somehow they end up in a group project together and that leads to... idk stuff. You take it from there

A/N: Song used is Who - Lauv ft BTS

𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 ❤️

The first time Levi had heard someone singing had been in passing. He had been running late to one of his more important classes and hadn’t bothered to pay attention to the melodic voice coming from a room he was running past. The nameless voice had gotten stuck in his head much to his frustration. It sounded so familiar and yet any time he tried to put a face to it it just didn’t match. The voice had stayed with him and Levi found himself constantly walking past their room hoping to catch a glimpse of the person behind the voice. It had been a few days and he was ready to give up, whoever lived in that room either never left it or functioned at ungodly hours of the night because he could have sworn it was like there was never anything different about the space.

Until one night, almost two weeks later Levi had stayed at the library studying for midterms until they had forcibly kicked him out. His eyes were burning with exhaustion, feet dragging against the carpeted floors of the dorms when he heard it again.

Oh I’m sick of waiting for love

Oh I know you’re that you’re not the one

Levi stopped dead in his tracks. His tired eyes widening as that familiar voice drifted into his ears, it was softer than it had been the first time but still so sweet and hypnotizing. The door swinging open suddenly startled him as he was met with Y/N. He was shocked, she was in a couple of his classes and wasn’t much of a socialite. The fact that her voice was so soft and beautiful instantly had his already small crush rapidly blossoming into something bigger.

Y/N shoulders jolted back as she noticed Levi standing outside her door, not saying anything just staring at her with his signature look of indifference.

“Jesus you scared me!” She laughed nervously feeling her cheeks begin to grow hot under his unwavering stare.

“That was you singing?” His blunt question makes her blush harder, she hadn’t thought anyone would have been awake to hear her.

“Uh yeah, sorry if it bothered you” rubbing her hand across the back of her neck uncomfortably she shifted her weight between her feet wishing that she had showered earlier to spare her this awkward interaction.

She was no stranger to Levi and had developed a massive crush on him since their first year of college. The fact that he was now staring her down after hearing her singing a stupid love song that had been prompted by her unending lonliness was making her wish she was anywhere else.

“Oh, you don’t suck” was all he mumbled before walking away leaving her dumbfounded and wondering how to feel about his comment.

‘You don’t suck??? Really, that’s the best you could come up with? Oh God she probably thinks we’re so lame’ Levi was mentally pulling his hair out. The one chance he’d had to say something flirty to the girl he liked had gone terribly wrong. He could only pray that she would forget about it before their class the next morning and spare him the embarrassment of being a total clueless idiot when it came to flirting. Groaning as he replayed their encounter in his head he pulled the blankets up this face hoping that he’d be swallowed by his mattress during the night.

The next morning came as usual, much to his dismay. His stomach was churning with anxiety at the thought of having to face her in class.

‘Just act cool, you can do this. She’s only the girl you’ve been crushing on for like two years, no big deal. God look at you, get your shit together dude.’ Levi’s internal monologue was doing little to help calm the storm of nerves that was swimming in his gut. All he could do was wait and see how she reacted, maybe she was going to pretend like nothing happened. It would be better than her acting like he’d been a total creep, but he secretly wanted an opportunity to get to know her better. Now that he had a face to place with the voice he couldn’t get her out of his head, her voice matched her personality to a tee. Sweet, soft spoken and utterly beautiful.

‘You’re getting way too fucking soft’

“As you all probably know, you have a group assignment coming up in the next couple of weeks. Rather than have you make your own teams I’ve already paired you up into groups, you can find your partner’s name on the list I posted on the course website. If you have any questions now’s the time to ask.” Their teacher announced, Levi’s heart was pounding in his chest as he pulled up the list. His name was at the top of the list with Y/N’s next to his.

His eyes scanned the room for her, their gazes meeting instantly and he gave her a small nod of acknowledgement which she returned with a small smile that sent butterflies straight to his stomach. If this wasn’t a sign that the universe was on his side he didn’t know what else to make of it. It was almost too good to be true but he was going to take full advantage of it despite his lack of romantic experience. Y/N was going to be his before the end of the semester.

♡ ♡ ♡

Y/N and Levi were a match made in heaven, she wasn’t lazy like other people he’d worked with in the past. Their assignment was coming along great and throughout the first week that they’d been working together Y/N had opened up a lot more to him and in turn he’d grown comfortable around her. Her dorm was a lot cozier than his, the fairy lights that were strung around her room were giving off a dangerous romantic vibe and the longer he watched her chew her lip in between her teeth the more he wanted to pull it between his own.

She started humming lightly, a habit he’d picked up on within the first day of them meeting up to work on the project. It was something she did absentmindedly but what he really wanted to hear was that beautiful voice doing more than just singing. Levi had found that flirting was easier than the first time he’d tried complimenting her, the more time he spent with Y/N the more things he found that he adored about her. The main one being how she’d blush whenever she caught him staring, it made him feel confident knowing that he had such an effect on her.

“So I was thinking maybe we could move this part a bit later on in the paper and expand more…” her words slowly trailed off as her eyes moved away from the screen in front of her to his intense gaze. A familiar blush spread across her cheeks as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“You’re really beautiful, Y/N” Her eyes widened almost comically at his words before looking away.

“I’m sure you say that to every girl you find cute” she mumbled before going back to typing. His hands grab her forearms as he moves his chair closer to hers.

“The only girl I’ve found cute enough to confess my feelings for is sitting in front of me” he whispered against her ear. Levi was putting up a facade of being confident but on the inside he was dying, if this backfired against him he didn’t think he’d be able to face her ever again.

“You like me?” Y/N asked quietly, her eyes reluctantly meeting his.

“Yeah I do, I have for a long time.” Y/N could have sworn her entire face was as red as a tomato from how hot it felt.

“Can I kiss you?” If Levi wasn’t so nervous he would have chuckled at how adorably shocked she looked, but the slightest nod of her head had him impatiently cupping her face in his hands and pulling her towards him. The feeling of her plush lips against his was euphoric, every nerve in his body was on fire at how right it felt. Her fingers grabbed at the material of his shirt as she pushed back against his mouth enthusiastically.

He tilted his head slightly to better angle their kiss giving him the opportunity to capture her bottom lip between his teeth. The sultry moan she let out as he scraped against her swollen lip sent bolts of heat to his groin. They pulled back when the need for air became too much, their kiss left him feeling light headed and he didn’t have much time to react before she was climbing onto his lap grabbing fistfuls of his hair and kissing him again.

“I wonder what other pretty sounds I can get from you tonight. I want to hear you sing for me” Levi had expected her to blush, or push him away not flash him the sexiest smirk he’d ever seen in his life.

“You wanna hear me sing huh? You’re going to have to work for it then.” Y/N was definitely going to be the death of him.

Masterlist

105 notes · View notes

gingerteaonthetardis · 5 years

Note

Tentoo/Rose for the headcanon thingy!

who hogs the duvet

take this as you will, but i cannot shake the image of tentoo in bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin, knuckles bone-white and fingers tight as he’s tangled up in another nightmare. rose gets used to waking up this way - whether from the loss of warmth, or from the jerky tension that rolls off of him. she gets equally used to soothing him while still halfway asleep herself, coaxing him out of his nightmare and into the world of the living, where he relinquishes his blankets in favor of cuddling his favorite human.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

it’s very mutual, and neither can remember who started the flow of texts. it’s just constant little quips, check-ins, and requests for takeout. there’s the occasional bit of venting, and plenty of flirting, but it’s mostly an unending stream of conversation, because they still can’t believe they’re here - together - and there’s nothing stopping them from spending every second talking to one another. nothing except, you know, their jobs.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

rose has to be creative, at first, because she came to this world with basically no money and she refuses to take pete’s, and it’s not like torchwood doesn’t pay, but london is still london and rent is still mad. so, for a while, it’s all hand-crafted things and random knick-knacks and sensible gifts (like a new pair of plimsolls). but tentoo’s much more creative in the sense that he builds them a tardis tank out of old windows and repaints the living room because “he’s spent enough time staring at blank white walls, thanks ever so,” and he finds ways to surprise her with gifts. and then sometimes, he buys her a toaster, even though she already has a perfectly good toaster, and it’s a whole argument, and it’s not even very creative, but what can she do? he’s only human.

who gets up first in the morning

rose. tentoo is unused to sleeping, and therefore dislikes it, but simultaneously has very little control over the whole situation. the only way he’s up before she is, is if he hasn’t yet gone to sleep and is on the cusp of passing out.

who suggests new things in bed

you know, i almost want to give it to tentoo for this one. he seems like he’d be vocal. like, the doctor without a filter, and with a new body to test the limits of, and with all of that rose there in front of him? he’d be up for anything, probably, and he’d say so. but my heart still says rose would probably initiate more new things while he’s still trying to refine and perfect the things they tried last night. i also imagine she’d be better at asking specifically for what she needs. but his scientific curiosity and attention to detail do not go unappreciated.

who cries at movies

are you kidding? both of them! total crybabies, the pair of them.

who gives unprompted massages

tactile tentoo, for sure.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

tentoo is very bad at being sick. he tends to get this grim determination about him, sort of like, “i welcome death with open arms,” so he’ll just be tinkering with the television in a haze of fever, buried under a pile of used tissues. which means rose has to fuss over him when he’s sick, or else he’ll end up hospitalizing himself with his total lack of care. she tries not to go too overboard, because she hates to remind him that his lifespan is short now (and about to be shorter, if he doesn’t take this antibiotic and get some sleep, she thinks). but he secretly likes being fussed over.

who gets jealous easiest

rose! tentoo is… lets say, he’s a hit at work. people love him. and after putting in all the work in with the dimension cannon, i think it’s sometimes hard for her to have him just sweep in and be treated like the alien genius all over again. also, his hair is still great and women still really like it.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

neither of them have any sense of taste, because neither one understands the music here. how in the hell is anything supposed to make sense in a world where bohemian rhapsody hasn’t been written (...yet)?

who collects something unusual

tentoo definitely has a weird collection of bits and bobs he managed to nab from the tardis. occasionally, he looks at one and chuckles and says, “wonder how he’ll fare without that.”

who takes the longest to get ready

tentoo. it’s the hair, you see. humany. needs a lot more tending to.

who is the most tidy and organised

in a surprise twist, rose. it’s mostly by necessity, because someone’s got to be tidy now that they haven’t got the tardis to act as housemaid.

who gets most excited about the holidays

tentoo loves holidays so! much! he loves holiday parties, where you get to get really drunk and ramble about things that make rose’s cheeks turn a very attractive shade of peachy-pink. he loves holidays where you get to give presents, and he loves holidays where you get presents. he loves holidays where everyone gets together and eats too much food, and holidays where there are fireworks and flames, and he likes holidays where you don’t do anything particular at all, but rose does do that extra special thing with her tongue--

who is the big spoon/little spoon

tentoo is the littlest spoon to ever exist, honestly.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

rose, absolutely. she and tentoo once joined a - casual, completely no-contact - game of pickup footie and she damn near broke his ankle.

who starts the most arguments

rose, which is the usual, really. she calls it like she sees it. she has zero interest in pulling punches when something needs to be dealt with. she’s the one who stops him before he storms out of the kitchen and insists that he give voice to whatever the hell is going on inside that daft, half-human head of his.

who suggests that they buy a pet

tentoo. it isn’t a suggestion, so much as he comes home one day with “an authentic miniature teacup pig. totally brilliant, these. they don’t actually exist in the other universe, they’re just runts that’ll grow to full-size, and boy, are they in for a shock. but this one is the genuine article! well, as genuine as she can be, what with the gene splicing and the alien dna. anyway, i’ve decided we’ll call her petunia. lovely name for a pig, i think.” rose doesn’t miss a beat. she simply starts looking for bigger flats.

what couple traditions they have

they take a trip every year, just for them. they travel for work all the time, of course, but they make sure to go somewhere different - just the two of them, no aliens, no running - once every year. it takes a lot of scrimping and saving at first, but it’s always worth it. sometimes, they even make it to a beach.

what tv shows they watch together

they watch the bachelor and the bachelorette and they take sides and lines are drawn in the sand and there’s a lot of drama, but in the end, they both agree that the girls should really ditch the blokes and run off with each other.

what other couple they hang out with

they spend a surprising amount of time with pete and jackie, and tentoo grudgingly learns to enjoy that time. and there’s a parallel martha, who they spend a lot of time with, though tentoo is gun-shy at first. she has a fabulous girlfriend, clara, and they love to go out to the pub and talk about things that have nothing to do with aliens or the end of the world or all that they’ve lost.

how they spend time together as a couple

at first, i’d imagine it’s mostly shagging and working and trying not to kill one another. but... their time together ends up turning into something much deeper. they talk, finally. they work on projects together like cultivating the tardis coral, they take petunia for walks on a lead, scandalizing the neighborhood (don’t think i’d forgotten about her). they just… live. together.

who made the first move

tentoo. that “i love you” on the beach really sealed things, i imagine.

who brings flowers home

neither of them, except that one time, before rose explained that they’re living their one human life together in the twenty-first century, not the bloody nineteen fifties. (she forgets to water the roses and they dry out and crumble onto the floor and petunia eats them. anyway, neither of them notice, they’re too busy shagging.)

who is the best cook

lin at the golden dragon, who knows exactly how tentoo takes his dumplings and never shorts them on the hoisin sauce.

#thanks for the ask!#tentoo x rose #rose tyler #tentoo #abbey.txt #headcanons

44 notes · View notes

julesherondalex · 5 years

Text

Enchanted (Elriel) - Part II

Summary: Elain has always known there’s more to her feelings towards Az than just friendly affection. When Azriel and Elain are sent to Adriata on a diplomatic mission, could this finally be the chance for close friends to become even closer?

Word Count: 5821

Read on AO3 here.

Previously on Enchanted...

“Or we could scout the city – see what Adriata really has to offer for a few days.”

Elain looked up in surprise and, what was impossible to hide, increasing excitement. “You mean like a vacation?” she asked somewhat hopefully.

Azriel cast her a rather shy but still mischievous glance and nodded. “Like a vacation.”

Part I | Part II | Part III

Is aggressively stabbing at your food impolite? Elain wondered the next morning during breakfast. She certainly felt like stabbing her food – repeatedly at that.

She could see Cresseida’s gracefully long fingers twirl a strand of her pearl-white hair, while the female unabashedly stared at the shadowsinger perched right next to the Archeron. Azriel had just answered one of her unending questions about Velaris. The City of Starlight was well known now, which was strange even for Elain who had barely known about the city and its hiddenness herself.

However, Rhys had explicitly required they try to revive the alliance between the courts – intently staring at the stoic spymaster doing so. Elain knew that’s why Azriel was being so talkative this morning – knew how hard it was for him to openly discuss his home.

She had felt him tense during the beginnings of their conversation, but his tension had eased with time, leaving Elain to wonder whether he had taken a liking to the Princess of Adriata.

Cresseida was quite unabashed with everything she said – cunning even – and she was unapologetically flirting with the handsome Illyrian. She was a princess, Elain thought. A very attractive one at that. Elain wouldn’t be surprised if Azriel invited the female to his bed – which was undoubtedly something Cresseida would approve of.

The fork slightly bent between Elain’s fingers. Shocked at the intensity of her own jealous-ridden emotions, she let the twisted silver disappear in the creases of her sky-blue dress.

Looking up from her lap, she met Varian’s gaze, who was seated right across from her. A muscle twitched in his cheek before he reached for his drink and downed it. Elain wasn’t sure whether the male was trying to hide his grin, but she was certain her cheeks were aflame.

Do not falter, she chided herself. He’s not yours to be jealous of.

But she couldn’t help it. She found herself wishing for her own pair of wings so she could flare them in that terribly territorial way Elain had seen Cassian do countless times.

She believed Nesta secretly basked in that particular showcase of Illyrian territoriality, constantly messing with her mate to provoke that primal instinct. However, Elain had neither wings nor was Azriel her lover in any way. She had no right to claim him whatsoever.

The flower-grower was yanked out of her thoughts by Tarquin, who was seated to her left at the head of the table.

“So, Elain, how is your mate? I met Lucien during one of the peace treaty meetings; he seemed to have taken a liking to Jurian. Are they still on talking terms?” he asked her in his ever kind way of polite curiosity.

Elain felt Azriel’s attention snap to her in an instant.

Though Lucien’s name had caught her off guard – especially while she had been deep in thought concerning her feelings for another male – she straightened almost imperceptibly and looked the High Lord in the eye.

“You see, Tarquin, Lucien and I aren’t mated any longer. But he is, indeed, in the mortal realms with Jurian and Vassa. I have good reason to know he’s doing well there,” she responded without as much as hesitating.

Elain may have mourned the breaking of a bond so sacred to the Mother in the first few weeks, but she was neither ashamed of her decision nor did she regret it. And she would not take anyone’s criticism about it.

Tarquin, to his credit, seemed earnestly surprised at her admission, and slightly embarrassed all the same. He grinned sheepishly at her, scratching his brow.

“I must confess, I am not experienced in the act of collecting gossip that seems to come with the position as High Lord. Please accept my apologies.”

Elain cracked a smile at the male, remembering how truly brief his history as High Lord was.

“No need,” she assured. “Though I could arrange a meeting with Feyre and Rhys for you; I’m quite certain they’d do wonders teaching you the high art of gossiping.”

To her surprise, Varian chuckled – nodding as if to agree with her – Tarquin joining him. Even Cresseida’s attention was directed at her now, the amusement and something akin to acknowledgment clear in her eyes. Elain briefly glanced at Azriel, whose attention she could feel the heaviest – as if his eyes upon her made her skin prickle in a way that shot excitement and alertness through her veins.

Azriel glanced at her with what could only be described as a proudly fond expression, his lips having tilted up at the corners. That was as much of her beloved private smile she’d get in the presence of so many others.

What she’d said to Tarquin about her broken mating bond hadn’t required her utmost bravery to say aloud – the way Azriel looked at her, though, made her feel like she’d just won a prize.

“I know I’ve said this before, but the way you handle Tarquin … that is very impressive, El,” Azriel later told her while they made their way through the narrow streets of Adriata. Faeries were all over the city; the weather so hot, every breeze coming from the sea felt like a fresh breath of air. Elain felt sticky with sweat despite her fluttering dress.

The seer looked up at Azriel, meeting his soft hazel eyes and the honesty in them. He did look impressed, but she only shrugged in response.

“It’s nothing. I am just being friendly,” she said dismissively, curiosity making her gaze wander around the street and the people. Mostly, they were Fae but Elain had even seen groups of the braver mortals walking around and marveling.

Azriel gently pulled her sideways, out of the way of a particularly hurried-looking Fae who was striding down the street at a fast pace.

“There’s a big difference between your friendliness and mine. I couldn’t possibly have entertained a High Lord the way you did by just being friendly,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.

Elain stared right ahead when she said, “Your charm seems to have worked on Cresseida, though.” She felt his eyes on her, probably noting the sharper edge in her voice. Elain cursed herself for being so obvious. Azriel shrugged.

“I doubt it had anything to do with my … charm,” he said rather tonelessly, and now Elain couldn’t help but turn to him in disbelief. Had he any idea what kind of effect he had on others? Even now, Fae turned heads to ogle the spymaster, making Elain’s blood boil in her veins. She’d never considered herself as the jealous type. That struck her as a misconception now.

But Azriel either didn’t care or he actually didn’t notice, despite his shadows being on full display and trailing around his neck and ears – undoubtedly whispering their secrets to him.

“Back when Feyre and the others … visited Adriata, Cresseida made advances on Rhys,” he explained, lifting his shoulders in dismissal. “It’s probably the wings.”

Elain stared at him, wide eyed and dry mouthed. She couldn’t help but let her gaze flicker to said wings – the thin membrane with its veins and muscles – taking in their gloriously large extent. Her fingers itched with the need to brush upon them, and see whether the membrane felt as silky as it looked. “I can see,” she only murmured, averting her eyes from them.

When she turned to Azriel’s piercing stare again, it was surprise and something else, something darker, she was met with. But it vanished from his face as fast as it had appeared. Elain could still feel her blood boiling underneath her skin, though it definitely wasn’t jealousy this time.

It was near afternoon when Azriel and Elain decided they had seen enough of the city and headed out to the harbor and the many booths that lined the promenade leading to the docks. Elain was enthralled with the magnitude of all the small novelties; self-made jewelry, ornately painted and carved rocks, jars of homemade marmalade and pastries, anything the heart desired for, really. She dragged Azriel from booth to booth, excitedly discovering with the male by her side.

When they approached yet another jewelry booth, Elain gasped at the sheer beauty of what lay before her: dozens of bracelets, pendants, earrings – all made of sea glass in various colors.

Her eye immediately caught onto a silver bracelet with three beautifully colored, average-sized sea glass stones perched in the center of it; the silver of the armlet was in plaited fashion while the stones were held together by intricately curved silver wires – strikingly beautiful and glittering. Elain made a squeaking noise and gently touched the bracelet with the tips of her fingers. It was the most gorgeous piece of jewelry she had ever seen, and she’d seen many in the wake of the Tiny Ancient One.

“You like that one?” Azriel asked from beside her, his voice amused.

Elain turned to him, with a Mother, yes on her tongue when she was surprised by a full-on cocky grin, stopping the words of excitement from bursting out of her mouth. Encountering his smiles was rare enough, but this kind of grin? Nearly impossible to catch. Which was why Elain had difficulties breathing for a moment – clearly distracted – before noticing why the spymaster was so smug.

It took a second glance at the bracelet, and the flickering of Azriel’s cobalt Siphons in the well-lit booth for Elain to realize the sea glass had the exact same shade of blue as the wondrous gems attached to her favorite Illyrian. Oh.

Elain had automatically come to love a bracelet gemmed with cobalt blue sea glass, clearly amusing the powerful Illyrian with her obvious showcase of fondness toward him. But the Archeron hadn’t even realized that that, in fact, was the exact reason why she’d inherently admired the bracelet. Elain had instantly thought the color beautiful and immediately wanted to purchase it. Now, though, her cheeks burned pink.

The image of her failed confession of love was still too fresh on her mind for her not to be embarrassed. She hadn’t been this obvious before, so why now? Now that she knew he didn’t even remotely think there might be anything more to their connection but friendship. It had been clear in his confusion; he didn’t even expect there to be more to them than pure camaraderie. Elain winced.

Keeping her voice low, she mumbled at last, “It’s rather lovely, isn’t it?”

She could still feel the pleased grin directed at her, though Elain made a point not to look at it or she might burst into flames of mortification and longing all the same.

She knew Azriel was only teasing her – but that was exactly why she couldn’t look at him. While he was only joking, she was completely enraptured by the shadowsinger – her emotions too intense to allow her to simply laugh about her little slip of fondness toward the male.

It felt like every second of quietly loving him crowded her in this particular moment and she couldn’t breathe around all the hours and weeks and months clawing up her throat to escape and find release. It was as if her feelings were pouring out of her skin; every word and every glance she gave Azriel inherited her love for him, and she feared that seeing it was as easy as smelling the salt in the air of Adriata.

Elain had never once felt like she needed away from her Illyrian friend, but right now she could have used a few minutes of solitude. If only to master the cacophony of her emotions.

“Don’t you want to buy it?” Azriel mused, his own voice even closer than before. The seer could feel where his chest grazed her shoulder as he stood right next to her. She saw his hand enter her line of sight, the scarred fingers softly brushing the blue of the sea glass. Elain swallowed hard.

“No,” she responded, feigning casualty while she turned – and put as much distance between their bodies as she could – to examine a pair of earrings with red-glowing sea glass attached to them. “I have enough jewelry back in Velaris. I wouldn’t even know when to wear this one.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Azriel’s hand stilling and retracting from the bracelet. Her gaze flickered to the jewelry once more. Gods, it was truly beautiful, and she needed to call it her own. She’d come back later and purchase it when Azriel wasn’t there to witness her weakness for the bracelet that so clearly represented the Illyrian and his cobalt Siphons. Even if she wouldn’t wear it around him, Elain knew she’d spend hours admiring the sea glass bracelet.

Elain only gradually came to really take in the jewelry beneath her fingers, having feigned interest in it to get rid of the close proximity to the Illyrian. But those earrings with the red glass … they’d make a perfect gift for her fiery sister. They were not too small, but still subtle and intense all the same. She felt a tiny smile tugging at her lips. This would be an ideal gift for Nesta; it was just convenient her favorite color was the exact same shade of her mate’s Siphons. With a jab to the heart Elain realized that her favorite had been blue – just like Azriel’s Siphons. Only they weren’t together.

Get a grip, girl, she found herself thinking – or was that Amren’s voice inside her head?

Slightly dizzy, Elain reached for the earrings and handed them to the seller, wanting the young, beautiful Fae with glimmering pink skin and turquoise hair to wrap it up for her.

Now she needed something for Feyre, and … there: a necklace with a pure black sea glass pendant caught her eye. She could only wonder where the color had come from, but it was such an intense darkness – it almost seemed to swirl inside the gem. Perfect for the High Lady of the Night Court.

Azriel hummed when she showed him what she’d purchased from the jewelry seller and – with a last lingering look cast at the cobalt colored sea glass bracelet – Elain and Azriel made their way through the crowd on the promenade.

Though her mood had slightly dimmed, the gardener retained herself from succumbing to her sudden melancholy. Instead, she took her friend’s arm and enjoyed the buoyant clatter around them. Adriata positively brimmed with life, and it didn’t take long for Elain to be captivated by the atmosphere again; her spirits lifted.

Hours were passing by in the city, and it had become well in the evening. Elain stood by a booth of various painted rocks: the seller himself had drawn faces with startling detail on white stone, all of random people Elain had never seen before.

She had just come upon a certain painting reminding her awfully a lot of Cassian’s face adorned by a funny-looking dark mustache. She turned around in laughter to show Azriel her newest discovery, when she realized that the spymaster was nowhere to be seen.

She twisted in confusion, surveying the crowd for the tall male in a futile attempt to find him. He must have wandered off somewhere, she thought, and purchased the stone to show him later.

It took Az only a couple minutes to find the seer again. Elain saw the spymaster striding toward her with surprising relaxation – hands in the pockets of his pants and his dark tunic slightly moving in the breeze. The dark whorls of his Illyrian tattoos peeked from under the collar of the fabric, and Elain’s fingertips tingled with the need to brush upon them.

She took a moment to unabashedly stare at the male: his towering frame with the tightly tucked in wings, the fullness of his lips and his sparkling hazel eyes with the green and golden flicker. The lazy, crooked grin upon the perfectly chiseled planes of his face.

How could he not see what kind of effect he had? Especially on her?

His whole existence pulled on the strings of her soul and prickled the skin of her body in ways that heated her blood. Sometimes he would look at her in a certain way, with those piercing, predator eyes and Elain would be hit by a hot and cold wave at the same time. She would freeze under his heated gaze; waiting for him to do something, to say whatever was causing the flush on his skin. The same three words were on the tip of her tongue in those moments, dying to find release. But she would always wait for him – to pounce on her for all she cared – and she would have been ready to devote herself to every wish coming from his wicked tongue and scrutinizing eyes.

And that was the worst; Azriel would simply look at her, his sinful lips could notch up in the slightest way possible, no words could be spoken, and Elain would still feel her existence quivering.

Azriel wasn’t a male of many words, she thought, and that was somehow so much worse for her case.

Elain shook her head, trying to discard the heat of her thoughts, the blush staining her cheeks and bosom, and the thought of Azriel thinking he had no charm whatsoever. It was ridiculous.

“What?” He had approached her by now and was still sporting that lazy grin.

“Nothing,” Elain muttered, and twisted away, looking around the promenade once more.

“So,” she began after a moment of observing the docks. “Where’s that fish stand Feyre was talking about? I am dying to taste what had her so delighted.” Lifting onto her toes to peer over the heads of the Faerie crowd, Elain searched for said stand – to little luck given her fairly short frame. With a frustrated click of her tongue she gave up and let Azriel lead her through the crowd.

“You truly want to eat fish? Here? Now?” Azriel seemed amused with the flower-grower. Elain playfully narrowed her eyes at him and put the hand that wasn’t entangled in his arm to her hip.

“Is there a reason you are doubting me, shadowsinger?”

Azriel stared down at her, his eyes shining in the dim light of the promenade. “I am the least to ever doubt you, flower. In fact, only a fool would underestimate Elain Archeron from the Night Court.”

Elain’s heart skipped a beat at his words. Do not falter.

“You’re only saying that because you are my friend,” she tried to sound mocking and playful but her voice didn’t seem to be on board with her intentions. Lowering her eyes to her feet, Elain worried her lip and tried to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. She’d always doubted herself in many ways; it wouldn’t surprise her if he did, too.

Azriel cocked his head to the side, and then he was gently grasping her arm and pulling her away from the busy crowd, into a little alcove of light and shadows.

“There are not enough days in my immortal life for me to thank the Mother for being your friend, El. You are not only one of the very few seers I have ever heard of, but you have a power in you most Fae could only ever dream of. And it’s not just that; you are smart, funny, and the kindest person I know. Not to mention that whatever you touch, plant or person, it will nurture and thrive under your insistence.”

Elain’s breathing hitched when Azriel’s finger trailed a soft and short path from her temple over her cheekbone. The gold in his eyes was shining as if to compete with the light all over the shimmering promenade.

“Believe me, Elain, your friendship is a gift. There’s not an ounce of doubt in me when it comes to you. And if I weren’t your friend right now, I’d make sure to befriend you, even if it would be the last thing I could do. For I’d rather be standing right beside Elain of Night, the seer and flower-grower, the gentle heart, than anywhere else.”

Oh, holy Mother of all life and death, how did one breathe again? Because Elain definitely had forgotten how to breathe around Azriel. She stood there, completely dumbfounded, and stared at the male, not even close to processing his words – the admiration, the respect and honor in them. All for her.

He was … Azriel was so …

Azriel was chuckling nervously, and Cauldron boil her if he wasn’t furiously blushing under her stunned gaze.

“What are you saying, El? Shall we head to the infamous fish booth?” Azriel mused with his twinkling eyes.

Elain had never needed that fish sandwich more in her life.

…

It turned out there was no fish stand at the docks of Adriata but rather various sailor ships selling fried fish directly from the decks. Elain and Azriel walked along the docks, not being able to decide where to turn. Az had sent his shadows to scout the area; the thin tendrils of black smoke almost invisible to the naked eye – but Elain had always found them too alluring not to notice.

Only the best for the Lady, he had teased her with that little grin of his, making Elain want to fan herself right then and there.

Azriel’s shadows brought them to an aged-looking ship with its beautiful, pastel blue and white colored hull. The shadowsinger talked to the sailor and soon enough Elain held a delicious smelling sandwich consisting of fried fish and an even better smelling creamy sauce, lavishly poured all over the goodness.

Elain was still not over Azriel's generous words from earlier, still thinking about the light in his eyes when he had talked about her.

It was hard not to love him. If she hadn't already fallen headfirst for this kind, loving Illyrian, Elain knew she would have by now.

Her skin pickled wherever he touched her, his words lingered in the forefront of her mind.

She wanted to collect every syllable coming out of his mouth and make a list of her favorite words. If you'd let me Azriel, she thought, I'd love you the way you deserve until the day I turned to dust and shadows and even after that. Elain would love Azriel so much, her love would remain even if she was not being.

The seer watched her shadowsinger talk to the sailor, his back and wings to her, and huffed. In a desperate act of drowning her frustration in delicious fish, she – quite ungracefully – bit into the sandwich … and almost choked on it when bits of sauce squirted right onto Azriel's wings.

Elain stood there, frozen in horror, and waited for Azriel to notice that she'd just made a mess of fish sauce on his beloved wings. But the Illyrian didn't seem to have noticed it; he was still talking to the sailor with that low rumble of his voice.

Elain hastily swallowed the bite, burning her throat doing so, and inspected the spot right at the base of Azriel’s left wing – near his muscled back. From up close, there were only tiny drops of cream, apparently not enough to have alerted the Illyrian and his sensitive wings.

She couldn't just let him walk around with sauce all over him, Elain contemplated. Without thinking twice she reached out and swiped her fingers over Azriel's wings, cleaning them of the dots of sauce.

She couldn't have possibly predicted what happened next – even with her ability of foresight. A startled hiss came from Azriel, and he all but leaped away from her fingers – sending a pile of neatly folded fishnets flying over the deck in the process. Elain stood in stunned silence, her fingers still in the air and stared up at the male in shock.

Azriel twisted in a blazingly fast move, his face a mask of unfiltered horror while he tried to process what – who – had touched his wings.

Elain awkwardly turned her hand, so that he could take in the cream on her fingers. “You had sauce on your wing,” she weakly explained, already feeling the threads of utter embarrassment climbing up her neck and cheeks.

Once Azriel realized there was, in fact, no danger directed at his wings but the fingers of a certain clueless flower-grower, his face took upon a deep scarlet color – he was blushing to his ears in sheer mortification.

He mumbled something along the lines of an apology and bent to pick up the strayed fishnets, collecting them and folding them neatly into their original state – all the while Elain and the sailor stood in stunned silence, not quite knowing what to make of the situation.

Elain didn’t know whether she should be mortified over her own audacious fingers, or the fact that Azriel’s wings must have been even more sensitive to the touch than she’d initially thought. The knowledge clanged through her, leaving her body heated and her face even redder than before. Gods, she was a fool. Why had she thought it was a great idea to touch him without his consent? And he clearly had not enjoyed the stealthy touch of his petite friend. Now they were both a mess of humiliated mortification.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel. Really, so sorry,” she now apologized for what felt like the hundredth time. The flush on Azriel’s face hadn’t left him since they had bid the dumbfounded sailor goodnight and started walking toward Tarquin’s palace. Even now, in the dim light of the corridors to their rooms, she could feel his humiliation of having reacted in such a dramatic way to the simple touch of Elain’s fingertips.

“Stop, Elain. I told you, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” he quietly voiced then, hiding his eyes from her by intently staring at his fast-pacing feet. Elain had abstained from taking his arm, and Azriel hadn’t offered to lead her.

“But I didn’t mean to … the sauce … and I just tried to-,” she stammered until Azriel stopped in his tracks and embraced her upper arm with his long, magnificent fingers. The contact nearly made her jump in her skin, heat pooling in her very core.

“Look, I am embarrassed as it is. Please stop apologizing, all right?” he pleaded, looking her in the eyes for the first time since their little incident.

She could all but nod, words were failing her right now anyway.

His grip eased, though he didn’t let go of her. Elain almost fainted out of relief when she spotted that tiny twitch of his lips, and she thanked the Mother for his steadying hand on her arm when Azriel suddenly began to grin widely – just to burst into full-on self-depreciating laughter.

Elain couldn’t help herself – what had happened was so absurd and comical at the same time. She joined the Illyrian with her own giggling, until she was clutching at his arm to keep herself from actually tripping and falling into a tear-streaked, stomach-hurting mess of a female.

“I have never seen anyone jump so high into the air,” she exclaimed breathlessly, still laughing.

The blush on Azriel’s might have been from their laughing fit or the reminder of his reaction, either way he had never looked cuter with that bright boyish grin, Elain thought.

“The worst is that I didn’t even see you coming,” he mused, more calm than before now. “Normally I would have sensed someone who is about to touch my wings. That’s the very first lesson Illyrian’s are taught: to protect one’s own wings for they are our most precious possession.”

Elain smiled, still recovering from the ache in her belly from giggling too much. “You were talking to the sailor. I caught you off guard. It happens,” she shrugged.

Azriel looked at her contemplatively. “It wouldn’t have,” he added, “but there’s something about you, Elain, that makes me lower all my shields.”

Elain would have blushed at that if she hadn’t been for the past hour already.

“That doesn’t sound very good, does it?” she sheepishly asked, swiping a stray lock of honey brown hair out of her face. Azriel’s focus flickered to that strand for a moment, his mouth notching up into a half smile.

“I think it does. It means I am trusting you with my back, El. I’m trusting you enough to forget all about my observations,” Azriel said, staring down at her out of half-closed eyes. The hazel pierced through her chest right into her heart anyway.

Elain had nothing to say to that, the words lingering in the air between them. Only then did she notice they had come to a stop right at the threshold of her room. Disappointment spread through her chest; she didn’t want the night to end, much less to let go of her shadowsinger friend.

Having noticed her glance to the door, Azriel took a respectful step back, probably thinking she wanted to head to bed. Elain hastily gripped his arm before he left for his room for good. “We’re staying for a few days, right? We’re not leaving tomorrow?”

Azriel’s face lightened up. “Of course we’ll stay. As long as you wish.”

Forever then, Elain thought longingly. But as long as we’re together anywhere would suffice.

She reluctantly let go of his arm and opened the door to her room.

Before she closed it, Elain turned to look at the Illyrian, still standing where she’d left him. “Goodnight, Azriel,” she whispered.

Azriel’s face was partly hidden in the shadows, but his eyes – oh, his eyes – burned brighter than ever. Elain could tell he was as hesitant to let her go tonight as she was. How much she wished to invite him to her room – but that was not possible. He wouldn’t approve the reason why Elain desperately wanted him in her room, or at least that’s what she told herself.

And still, his face seemed to mirror her expression of longing and fondness, when he quietly murmured, “Goodnight, El.”

…

Elain threw the light blanket aside and set her feet on the cold stone, finally giving up trying to sleep that night. She had been tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off against the onslaught of thoughts and emotions – all consisting of her Illyrian friend.

She reminded herself that they were just friends, and nothing more because the shadowsinger was still in love with the Morrigan and would likely love her until the day he ceased being.

Which is all right, Elain told herself. Mor was great, wonderful even. He probably couldn’t help himself loving her, just like Elain couldn’t help herself loving Azriel.

That was what love was about, really. It would strike you out of nowhere and keep you in its fangs until you were either in the arms of your lover or close but never close enough. It would never truly let you go; the love would remain within yourself – hidden in the shadows but desperately wanting to be dragged into sunlight.

After her failed attempt of a confession, Elain would have thought she’d rather keep her feelings hidden than have Azriel know and be bared open forever. But their time spent together in Adriata had been feeding her hope silently. How Azriel had looked at her before she’d gone to bed … that hadn’t been a friend looking at a friend. Elain found herself trying to object to her own observation, but she had seen it – in that moment before Elain closed the door, Azriel had contemplated staying just like Elain had thought about inviting him to her room. And she had been too much of a coward to just ask him.

Now she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t drown all her doubts and regrets.

Adjusting the strap of her flimsy silken nightgown Elain trotted to the open window, facing the now dark blue glittering sea and the sandy beach.

The moon hung high in the sky, gifting enough light for Elain to see the beach. It wasn’t empty as she had expected it to be. Her heart started to thump in her chest when she spotted a pair of familiar wings and dark tousled hair. Azriel. He was seated on a rock atop the shore right below her window – with no one but his own company.

Without knowing what she was doing, Elain grabbed for her thin dressing gown and exited her room. All her mind could picture was Azriel sitting by the sea; Azriel tracing her cheek with a scarred finger; Azriel looking at her with longing in his eyes.

Her heart hammered by the time her bare feet hit the sand of the beach, striding with light but quick steps, trying to reach the Illyrian. Elain had no idea what she’d say to him but they needed to talk. She needed to confess, or she’d choke on these emotions so intense that breathing had become an issue whenever Azriel was close. Even if he rejected her, maybe she’d be able to at least breathe again.

Laughter echoing from the rocks stopped her in her tracks. One of them was definitely Azriel; she’d recognize that sound anywhere. Elain could grow old and forget her own name, but she’d never forget Azriel’s joyful laughter.

And for some reason, hearing it now was like stepping under an ice cold stream of water. She had spent weeks to be the reason for that laugh; whoever had made him laugh now couldn’t have known him more than a few days. And worse, Elain knew the other husky, confident laugh. She had heard it just this morning, and she had seen the seductive, inviting glances accompanying it. Cresseida was here. With Azriel.

Elain couldn’t help herself; she took a few more steps until she could see them, perched side by side on that rock. She could hear them talking.

Cresseida was leaning into the male. And Azriel? Even from the distance Elain recognized his dazzling smile, the open expression on his face. It was like a jab to the heart.

The Azriel Elain knew wouldn’t have smiled this freely with a lady he barely knew, except … except if he was attracted to her.

The jab to her heart morphed into a punch to the gut, leaving Elain breathless and weak in the knees. She lowered her eyes to check if her knees would be able keep her on her feet. In her haste to get to Azriel, she hadn’t even bothered to change out of the flimsy nightgown – her legs being utterly naked. But it wasn’t the skin showing that bothered her. Elain felt bare and strangely naked within her soul.

The Archeron uttered a quiet prayer to the Mother when she whirled around and her legs did work. She quietly made her way up the beach – leaving the two of them behind.

***

dundundunDUN. Click here for Part III x

***

tagging you cuties:

@abillionlittlepieces @angiehannover @azrielismycinnamonrollprimary @arwenbk3 @brighteststarinthenorthernocean @cassianpeia @court-of-fuck-me-daddy @courtofdreamsandterrasen @courtneyehk @dreamerforever-5 @enquires-state-building @faequeenaelin @fangirlforever0704 @highqueenofelfhame @illyriangarbage @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @maastrash @my-acotar-obsession @nightcourtstarlight @poisonous00 @poisonwhiterose @queen-of-wings-and-fire @rhysanoodle @rosehallshadowsinger @sncinder @summertime-acoustic @thebriarpost @tswaney17 @vanillen @verifiefangirl

Let me know if you want to be tagged/taken out of the tag list!

(Also sorry if tags don’t work, tumblr is a mess sometimes)

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #sjm #weareacotar #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #sjm fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #my writing #a court of thorns and roses #enchanted

113 notes · View notes

bewareofchris · 6 years

Text

040/100 | Office Romance | Stony, momentary Tony/Thor | PG-13

The premise of the 100 AUs is incredibly simple. I love this gif, and I hate Civil War, so I’m just going to keep rewriting the scene as long as I can. The goal is 100 but lets see how far I make it.

Steve was what the other guys liked to call “a go-getter”. He’d earned the reputation of being an absolute beast on the ball field. He’d become the toast of the company’s annual baseball league, he’d dominated at football and despite not being able to work a smart phone or boot up a computer properly he had managed to win the Fantasy Football Challenge for six consecutive years.

Steve was a beloved member of the team.

Steve was vote most valuable employee every month for six months and nobody even felt vaguely angry about it.

Steve was likable to a fault.

He was too likable.

He was excessively likable.

Tony hated him. Setting aside the fact that Steve was athletic, and handsome, with stamina for days. Setting aside his achievements and accomplishments and amazing smile. Setting aside his genuineness and his humility, the man was just--just--

“Have you considered,” Bruce, his long suffering fellow IT expert and recent confidant, “that you only hate him because you’re sexually frustrated and he’s the epitome of masculine alpha perfection?”

Tony had not considered that. “You’re going to blame the pheromones?”

“I think it would be silly to overlook the obvious.”

“I’m going to do us both a favor and pretend that I never heard that.”

But, Steve was perfect. If the movie industry was still invested in family values, they would have been cranking out six movies a month all staring men who looked like Steve, and moved like Steve, and behave like Steve.

Tony saw the bastard at a company picnic holding someone’s baby, cooing along with an infant who couldn’t have looked more delighted. The half of the company that pretended like they weren’t omegas had formed a sort of subconscious semi-circle around the available, viable, likable alpha holding someone’s baby.

If Tony hadn’t been so embarrassed by the display he would have been right over there in the thick of it.

Nobody was perfect, Steve had his faults. He was gracious but he was stubborn. He was righteous but he could be immovable. He was loyal but he was uncompromising.

And he was single.

Steve was constantly, confusingly, always single.

Life could have gone on forever, persisted in a state of unending long-distance hatred (and sometimes lustful daydreams) if not for the sudden addition of transfer from another office.

His name was Thor, and he was the first alpha to walk through the door that made Steve look small. Small, and skinny, and less shiny all together. He was also friendly to a fault. He was funny.

He was lovable.

He was genuinely interested in all the office gossip.

He was aware of the chatter about how amazingly fit, strong, tall, shiny and attractive he was. And he had to have been aware that all that was required for him to be worshiped like a god was for him to snap his fingers. But he didn’t snap.

Tony did not always make excellent decisions. He wasn’t always known to use good judgment. He was, however, usually careful.

“What’s gotten in to you?” Bruce asked him on day three of Tony throwing things around the office and raging about the stupidity of the men who ran the company but couldn’t remember where a fucking on switch was.

“Why is it so hard to accept that you need help? Why can’t they listen when we tell them not to hit the print button seventeen hundred times! It’s not my fault that--”

“Tony!” Bruce shouted back. “They’re stupid, ok. We already knew that. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m probably pregnant,” Tony said. Because he was, and it was almost a relief to say it. Except that Bruce’s hand over his mouth and his slapped-quiet silence wasn’t directed at the statement but just over Tony’s shoulder to where Steve, the former Mr. Universe of the office, was standing.

Steve had the gall to look outraged. He had the balls to stand there with his hand poised to knock on the door frame and his lips pulled into a frown so severe it belonged on Great Aunt Gertie’s face. “I’ll come back,” was what Steve said, but what he meant was some great steaming pile of judgmental vomit.

“I didn’t see him,” Bruce said as soon as they were alone. But also, “what are you going to do?”

Thor couldn’t use a projector to save his life. Tony had taken up the habit of sitting in on any meeting that Thor was heading to save himself the time of having to walk from his office to the conference room. He had no interest in the information but up until yesterday mid-morning when he found out that Steve Perfection Rogers was secretly a judgmental asshole, he enjoyed the people watching.

“Ah,” Thor said, “I broke it. I think I broke it.”

“I got you, big guy,” Tony said. And he did. No matter how many times Thor broke the remote for the projector (and it was a lot), Tony had always managed to fix it. It was a brief, professional exchange, but Steve Rogers was giving him the stink eye when his fingers touched Thor’s.

In fact, Steve Rogers’ disapproving sour frown had started popping up all over the office. It followed around Clint who was bad at printing. It appeared over Natasha’s shoulder when she called for help with the viruses that Clint kept getting on her computer.

Steve was in the hallways frowning at Tony leaving the big-bosses’ office, eyeing the closing door with great suspicion.

Tony had become a plague in a matter of three days, a carrier of disease to be avoided. Steve had only just stopped frowning noticeably in his direction and simply turned around and left if they ever saw one another.

That was fine.

Thor invited everyone out for drinks and Tony accepted despite having no confirmation as to whether or not he was pregnant. He liked the atmosphere, and the distraction, or so he thought. He had planned to like it, but it ended up with just Thor and him in a booth, with a suspicious lack of other people.

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

“No,” Thor assured him.

“Did nobody else want to come?”

“Nobody else was invited.” And Thor’s smile could have thawed the heart of an ice goblin. It could have reversed global warming. It could have fed every hungry mouth on the planet. It was so overwhelming.

The trouble with alphas, the ones with more distinct alpha traits like muscle mass, and speed and excessive likability, was that they also had an amazing sense of smell.

The trouble with Thor was that he understood Tony wanted nothing serious, and he had no expectations, but he was a touching and feeling and affectionate sort of guy. But also he’d slept over in Tony’s bed last night and the smell of alphas was like a pungent sub-aroma that was hard to wash off.

The second trouble with Thor was that he still couldn’t work a projector.

“I think I broke it,” Thor said with a smile, looking over at Tony with his sunshine smile.

Steve Rogers, resident raincloud, looked over his shoulder too, frowning like his life depended on it.

Tony was all set to duck his head like the plague-carrying rat he was, but fuck Steve Rogers and his high horse and the whole establishment about what an omega could and couldn’t do. He pulled the second remote out of his pocket and held it out to Thor without getting up. Thor, the alpha from another country who didn’t particularly care about the power play he was participating in, came over to retrieve it. He even said: “thank you,” with absolute sincerity.

Tony wasn’t pregnant, and he was all set to celebrate his continued freedom when his life was interrupted by a knock on his office door. There was Steve Rogers, two weeks later, finally getting back around to whatever had brought him by the first time.

“So I like you,” Steve said as if he hadn’t just been the world’s most obnoxious dick ever. “I usually don’t like anyone, I mean--I’m not usually attracted to anyo--the point is, I don’t know what to do. Romantically. I like you. I thought you liked me.” He paused, his perfect cheeks were blushing, “I might have been wrong.”

Tony was turning in his office chair, working out how he felt about this development. “I’m not pregnant,” he said.

“Are you planning anything serious with Thor?”

“No.”

Steve looked at the doorjamb like he’d written the answers on it. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Are you going to keep being a dick if I don’t?”

Steve smiled, just a little, like he was aware of how atrocious his behavior had been. “Hopefully not,” he said, “I didn’t realize how I’d taken it for granted that you would like me until I thought you had already committed to someone else and--” He paused again, looked sheepish, said, “I’m sorry.”

“Fine,” Tony said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

[Other AUs here]

#100 AUs.

7 notes · View notes