#I feel like so much blame is thrown onto her when half of her co-workers completely agreed with her

[therighthandofvengeance]

Yes, Delenn started a war. Yeah, that's objectively bad. But do we really think that EarthGov would have given anyone the courtesy of asking about why they killed a significant (political) figure before committing massive violations of the Geneva Convention?

Obviously we shouldn't condone this behavior- but let's at least give it some perspective:

It's literally her first day on the job. she just finished her internship the night before

she's been trained for this role and this role alone, her life experience is limited at best and nonexistent at worst

her mentor just died -> that's essentially going from training wheels on flat and even ground, with a helmet to a unicycle on a mountain during fire season... uphill

nobody really cared about what she said until 20 minutes ago when she became One of Them

there were four other members of the Grey Council that were pro-war, she didn't decide to go to war by herself

[thephantomofthe-internet]

And the World goes Soft

Steve Harrington x Reader (Future AU)

Words: 3,730

Warnings: Blood mention, injury mention, insecurities, general fluff

Author’s Note: I was inspired by a fanfiction that I can no longer find :( but it was a Steve as a bartender fic, I would tag the potential writers but I don’t want to bother them, but when I find it the world will know!

Masterlist

When Steve walked into your shared apartment, he looked like absolute shit. He’d worked a devil’s double-he closed the bar and then opened it only a few hours later. You couldn’t remember him coming to bed the night before, and you’d left before him to make it into Gary Garden Court mall’s Sears to open the makeup counter. You both had the opening shifts that morning and while you knew that your shift would pay you basic minimum wage to deal with stuffy older women all trying to buy orange lipstick and bringing in their young daughters to have mall makeovers before school dances. Steve, on the other hand, would get paid less than minimum wage to lift heavy cases of beer and liquor, prep the rail for the night shift, and still serve the saddest drunks in the world their three beer lunches.

By the way he threw down his gym bag, the shift was gruesome. The bags under his eyes were blotchy blue and purple and heavy, his eyes dull and lids sagging over his pupils. His hair was greasy and hidden under a blue baseball cap. His work bag stunk like grease. By the looks at him, he probably had to step into the kitchen as well. You dropped your thin paperback on the couch and swung your feet onto the floor.

“Did Anthony not show up again?” you asked, standing to meet him in the doorway. You pressed a kiss to his temple. He was sweaty. They must have been busy, mornings were usually pretty safe. That was the only reason Steve picked up the shift, his co-worker Hannah had practically begged him to cover for her.

“He was two hours late,” Steve sighed bitterly. Anthony was the worst guy in the kitchen, he was always either late or absent from work, but because he was the general manager’s nephew he never got fired. “I had to do the whole kitchen put away while Mike opened up everything.”

“I’m sorry baby,” you smiled sadly. He skin and hair smelt of fryer grease. It was a pungent odour that you were very used to. Steve shrugged half heartedly. He reached over his head and pulled off the olive crewneck sweatshirt he’d thrown over his uniform. The sweater was ancient; he’d had it since high school and was more than showing its wear and tear. Steve winced audibly, pulling an arm behind him to clutch at his lower back.

“Did you hurt yourself at work again?”You asked as he pulled off the other sleeve and dropped the sweatshirt on top of his bag.

“Yeah, heavy wing boxes, no help.” Steve said through gritted teeth.

“Did you tell Mike?” you asked, taking the hat off his head so he didn’t have to lift his arms over his head again.

“Nah, no point, I won’t die.” You furrowed your brow. Steve always acted tougher than he actually was; years of putting other’s safety above his made him constantly put himself last on his own list. It made you sad to watch him wear himself down for shitty managers and co-workers who cared more about filling their own pockets than taking care of one another.

“You should go take a bath, soak your back.” You said, reaching down to pick up his work bag. Steve nodded, hobbling towards your shared bathroom. Once the door shut, you picked up his things. You felt terrible for him. He did so much for you to make life easier for the pair of you. You knew that he still didn’t think you should’ve left with him. He had all these ideas about who you could be, who you should be. But what he didn’t understand is that none of that really mattered to you. You didn’t care about big fancy college degrees or the Harrington family wealth or trust funds. You cared about Steve. Steve made you happy. You could be living in absolute shit with him and you’d still be happy. And your little studio apartment made you happy, with its cool teal glass brick pillars and the big windows facing out into the busy street. Living in downtown Gary wasn’t exactly the little haven you’d expected for your life, you’d selfishly imagined your own little box build house in the suburbs, with uniforms lawns and pastel doors. You wanted the life your parents had made you, a safe space for kids to grow up. But you knew in your heart that even the safest, quietest small towns in the world weren’t safe.

You heard the water start and you turned your attention to the mess Steve had left behind. You threw his work bag under the coffee table under the window, where it belonged, and turned your attention to Steve’s sweater. It was ancient, but you knew that it was Steve’s favourite. It comforted him when he was upset or had night terrors. He wore it whenever he wanted to feel a bit of security. You examined the fabric. It was beat-the neck had a chunk of fabric missing, showing the fleece underneath, the sleeve cuffs had holes and seams along the arms had holes in between the seams. You felt bad for the thing. Steve tried to take care of his clothes the best he could, but he couldn’t sew. Hemlines would fall and Steve would just throw the shirt into the back of his closet until he was desperate for clothes. He’d buy a whole new pair of jeans if he ripped the knee open. You found the piles of forgotten shirts when you moved in with him and had taken on the slow process of fixing them all. Steve never really seemed to notice. Every time he went for an old shirt do some work in and found it hemmed, he merely shrugged it off, blamed it on his memory. Get your head beat in enough times and you start to lose some things. Steve couldn’t remember most of elementary school and most of the fire at Star Court mall, the combination of drugs and the concussion he’d gotten fucked up his brain for a summer.

You were determined to fix the sweater. You wandered to your desk, pulling out the broken swivel chair and opening the drawer. You had a few spools of thread in your sewing kit; the basic black and white, along with a red and a navy blue. You kept the kit in the back of your desk, although a couple spools of pastel pink, purple, and green thread rolled around up front, leftovers from high school home economics. You didn’t have the exact colour to match Steve’s sweater, so the pastel green would have to do. You grabbed that, along with a needle and the pink scissors from the cup of pens on the top of your desk. You brought your supplies out into the space zoned out as your living room. There were three holes on the right cuff and one small hole on the right sleeve, and one hole on the left cuff and one hole on the right sleeve. The left sleeve was much for wear than the right, one wrong hook of the thumb and the whole cuff could be taken off the sleeve. You focused on that sleeve first.

You wouldn’t bother with pins to hold the material together; you’d simply do a free stitch. You cut off an arms length of thread and slid the needle through, knotting the ends together. You started with cuff, since it would be the easiest. You stabbed the needle into the fabric, bobbing through the material in a straight, basic stitch. It took you all of two minutes. You’d gotten quick at hand sewing from fixing up Steve’s wardrobe. You didn’t want to make a big deal of it, mainly because Steve would feel bad about you taking care of him. He liked to feel self-sufficient, and he was but everyone needed a bit of help once and awhile.

“Baby?” you heard Steve call from behind the closed bathroom door.

“Yeah?” you called, knotting off the green thread once, then twice. You snipped off the excess thread and stabbed the needle into the couch, the excess thread hanging off the eye. You knotted it off and started in on the sleeve, turning it inside out.

“Will you come and sit with me? I’m lonely.” Steve called. The bathtub you had barely held him, but he still tried to get you to join him in there every time he took a bath.

You sighed through your nose “Alright, baby.” You collected up your supplies, bundling them in your arms and padding your way into the bathroom. You kicked Steve’s work clothes into the hall as you opened the door, a silent reminder to wash that shit later. His clothes stunk. Steve looked like a poorly done piece of origami, crumpled up in the tiny white tub. It was barely five feet in length and Steve was a strong six two, his legs hung out of the tub in the open air, his torso pulled into the hot water. He’s steamed up the mirror and made the whole bathroom humid. You flipped down the toilet seat and dropped your supplies on the counter top.

“Baby, come sit with me…”Steve whined, his head low in the tub, only his hair visible.

“I am sitting with you,” you chuckled. You had taken to doing a ladder stitch up the open place in the sleeve. It wasn’t as though the seam had ripped, the sleeve had simply been surged shut and the surging had come up and pulled away. It was a cheap sweater. You struggled to pull the needle through the other side of the fabric; it was thick and the needle was hooked at the end, which meant that it hooked on every loose bit of fluff on the material. You stuck your hand through the cuff to grab the needle and push it back in to make the next stitch.

“You’re too far away…” Steve complained quietly.

“And our tub is too tiny,” you replied “When we can afford a bigger place, we’ll get one with a nice tub. Then we’ll take as many baths as you want.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep…” Steve chuckled. You sat in silence for awhile, long enough to finish off the left sleeve and start in on the right. Steve didn’t seem to notice the sounds of scissors snipping or the thread unwinding from the spool. He hummed quietly to himself. Sometimes he’d sing when he thought no one was listening. He had a nice voice; you wished he’d sing more. But his quiet humming was comforting. It reminded you of driving around with him on the nights he couldn’t sleep. He’d drive in silence for awhile, the radio playing softly, and whenever a song he liked came on he’d hum along. You’d fall asleep in the passenger seat some nights; you hand on his arm to remind him that you were still there. You’d wake up to hear him humming along to Chris de Burgh or Stevie Nicks as the station began to transition from the smoother songs to the morning zoo crew shtick. You remember waking up to the sunrise and forcing Steve into the passenger seat when you realized how long he’d been driving. There were mornings when you didn’t know where you were anymore and you’d have to figure out where the hell you were. Still, you’d let him sleep as you winded your way back into Hawkins. He only seemed to be able to sleep with someone there with him. Driving became his move after he got worried that calling you at two in the morning was upsetting you. It didn’t bother you at all, but the phone ringing early in the morning more than upset your parents. Sitting with Steve in the tub felt like those nights in the car, or on the phone, not so much talking so much as checking that you’re still there and that he was still okay.

“What’re you doing over there?” Steve asked. You heard the water slosh and watched as Steve’s legs slipped back into the tub and his head pop out from over the tub’s ledge. You smiled shyly, lifting the sleeve of his sweater. “What’re you doing with my sweater?” He seemed perplexed by you having it. Steve still wasn’t used to people wanting to take care of him. He was so used to being self sufficient that letting people take care of him was still foreign to him.

“I’m fixing it. It’s all ripped and worn to shit.” You turned your attention back to your sewing. You’d finished patching up the right cuff and had turned your attention to the last rip. You flipped the sleeve inside out and jabbed the needle into the fabric.

“You don’t have to do that, I can fix it.” Steve replied awkwardly, sinking low in the tub again.

“I know you can, but it’s no issue for me,” you said “Besides, I’ve been fixing your shirts for months now.” Steve frowned, looking down at his chest. He didn’t like to be care taken for, it made him feel small and useless. It reminded him of when his mother would burst into his room and start picking up after him, muttering over how ungrateful and lazy he was. He never asked for her to do that, he never expected it, but it was a constant reminder that he wasn’t good enough. That he was still too much of a child to take care of himself.

Steve was silent for too long. You knew in your heart that helping Steve wasn’t always easy. He didn’t accept help like other people did, he was too brave to ask for it and too cowardly to admit that he ever needed help. He wanted to be brave, to take care of himself without anyone else’s help. And he did that, every day without comment or complaint, but it hurt to watch him struggle sometimes. He struggled to hard to be the bigger breadwinner in your house. He was still on your ass to quit your job and go to school. In his mind, he could handle it on his own. But you both knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it, that extra shifts at the bar wouldn’t keep a roof over your head without you working too, it was just too expensive to live on minimum wage, even in a shitty neighbourhood in Indiana. You wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t brave of him to declare that he could handle it, it was almost romantic, but you were just as brave as him and you wouldn’t watch him break himself apart to give you a life only marginally better than what you already had.

“Baby…you know that I don’t do things for you because I don’t think you can do them, right?” you asked. Steve was silent for a moment. You heard him shift in the tub. The room was starting to go cool, the fog on the mirror fading away. The water in the tub must be uncomfortably cool. You wished he’d turn on the water and add a bit more to the tub, to at least add some sound to the room and warm it up again. You were starting to get cold.

Steve sighed quietly “I know…”

“Do you?”

That was a hard question. Harder than Steve had expected. He wanted to believe you. He did trust you, more than anyone else in the world, and he almost always believed you. But he wasn’t so sure on that one. He still felt like such a child so much of the time. He was still so young, most of his coworkers were older than him, and the ones his age only worked part time and went to college. Half of them still lived at home with their parents too. Most people who he met either took pity on him or outright judged him. When he mentioned that he lived with his girlfriend out here, one of his coworkers asked if she was pregnant. If he’d gotten kicked out. He was still viewed as too young for the life he was trying to build for himself. His father still thought he was coming back. He’d get on the phone after Steve’s mother every couple months to ask when his little experiment was done. He didn’t understand that this wasn’t an experiment, this was life now. That he wasn’t coming back to take some entry position at the company, where he could get shit on by his father in a corporate scenario as well as at home. That he was going to make it on his own. And Steve was determined to make it, and to make it with you.

“Honestly?” you nodded, hoping to god that he’d actually admit a feeling. “I’m not used to people trying to help me without asking for something in return. People usually want something from me. And then there are my parents…”

“I understand,” you sighed softly, stabbing the needle into the material and setting it on the toilet seat. You stood and walked over to the tub, sitting down on the cold tile outside the tub. “All I want to do is help you. I know you can’t sew and I can, so I just wanted to do something for you. I know that this is your favourite sweater and it needed a bit of mending.”

“I can sew…” Steve muttered awkwardly. You looked behind you to see him pouting like a child, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. It was strangely adorable, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh yeah, I have the scar on my leg to prove it.” Your hand came to touch the jagged scar on your calf. You’d been hurt in an attack, the onetime Steve let you anywhere near the monsters he willingly threw himself at, and came away with a massive wound four inches long and deep. Steve had promised that he could patch you up and had done his best to clean and stitch the wound shut. It never got infected, thank god, but it didn’t heal even or flat. The scar was still lumpy and dark in spots. You were proud of the little scar, but you could tell that Steve was still a bit ashamed of what he’d done to you. You watched as his face changed, defeat flashing in his deep, warm eyes.

“Hey,” you reached out and took his hand “I like my little scar. You saved my life that day…” Steve gave you a small smile.

“I made a mess of it though…” he whispered to himself.

“No, Steve,” you squeezed his hand in yours, turning your full body to look at him, leaning your other arm on the ledge of the tub. It was a bit strange having such an earnest conversation while Steve was buck naked, you worried that he felt overexposed with you watching him. You held his gaze. “You didn’t mess anything up, you saved my life.”

“You would’ve done the same for me…”

“I would have, happily, and that’s because I love you.” Steve still smiled like a little kid whenever you said that you loved him, it was so sweet and earnest that you couldn’t help but smile back just as sweetly. “And when you love someone, you do stuff for them. And so me fixing things up for you isn’t me judging you or thinking that you can’t do it, I know you can, it’s just me trying to help you however I can.”

Steve nodded hard “Okay…” he replied softly. You watched him carefully, trying to find cracks in his expression. He seemed genuine in his acceptance, his smile stayed firmly in place.

“So will you let me finish the damn work without pouting?” you chuckled, reaching for your work. You’d left the needle end out too far. The second you grabbed the sweater, you jabbed your hand. “Ow!” you yelped, pulling the sweater in your lap and your hand up to your mouth. It was only a pinprick, but the bit of blood seeping from the wound made your stomach churn to look at. You didn’t like blood, you’d seen too much blood in your life to last you a lifetime. You’d seen Steve bloody and battered too many times to last a lifetime. Steve grabbed your hand away from you, pressing a firm kiss to the wound and held it there.

“Be careful,” he soothed “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“It’s just a flesh wound, Steve, I’m fine.” You tried to push yourself up again, but Steve pulled you back down. “Lemme get a Band-Aid, I’m not gonna leave I-”

Steve pulled you down to his level. You stumbled, but caught yourself on the mildew stained tile. “Thank you, baby,” he craned his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“Anytime, baby,” you mused “Now, finish off your bath I wanna eat and I won’t wait around for you to stop playing princess.” Steve let go of your hand and you turned your attention to your tiny bathroom mirror. You pulled it open, pulling out the box of bandages. You pulled one out and pulled off the thin, wispy paper, wrapping the latex around your fingertip. You heard the tub begin to drain and felt damp, pruney hands wrap around your middle.

“I like your hair…” he pressed a kiss onto the side of your head. You pulled his hands away, reaching for an old towel off the rack and shoving it into his chest.

“You’re soaked, Casanova, dry off before you ruin the whole bathroom.” You chuckled, turning on your heel and pushing out the door. His hands had left two marks on your stomach, cold on your skin.

“Save me some of that pizza from last night!” Steve called, turning his attention to the door to watch you go. You laughed, pulling the door shut behind you. “I love you!”

You stopped in your tracks. Hearing him say that could still make your heart speed up. You smiled to yourself, shaking your head slightly. “I love you too, doofus.”

[shirewalker]

Be My Valentine - A Nikolina Fic

Nikolina Appreciation Week 2020 ♛ [Day 1: Valentine’s Day]

Summary: Alina finds her old friend, and secret crush, Nikolai at a romantic getaway she should have taken with her ex. Nikolai wastes no time in making her feel better. And reawakening certain... feelings.

Pairing: Alina/Nikolai

One-shot

Rating: Teen

Also on AO3

Be My Valentine

Well, this was officially the worst Valentine’s Day in all of the recorded history. At least, as far as Alina was concerned.

She stabbed the heart shaped waffle and fought back yet another onslaught of tears, wondering why the hell she’d still come to this place when the reason to come in the first place was no more.

“Bastard!” She hissed at no one, remembering with some satisfaction the look of shock in Mal’s face when she’d thrown the dirty mop water at his face just a few hours before coming here. “Served him right.”

“Whoever it was, to earn that look on your face…” A voice spoke from above, followed by a whistle, both of which Alina recognized in a blink.

She looked up, mouth parted in a wide O.

A smile. One she knew oh so well. “I know I wouldn’t want to be the object of your anger, sunshine.”

“Nikolai…!” She gasped. The next moment her chair was on the floor and her arms were winding tight around his neck. Nikolai. Her best friend. Her secret crush. Well… former. Former best friend. Former secret crush. Who knew what he thought of her now?

Scolding herself for her hasty reaction, Alina let him go and awkwardly picked up her chair. She looked everywhere but Nikolai, not wanting to see the look on his face. Sure, he’d smiled. But…

“Do I have a huge, disgusting pimple on my face?” He asked, humour lacing his words.

She frowned and shook her head, “What? No!”

“Then why are you so diligent in not looking at me, sunshine?” His voice softened, “I missed you.”

She pressed her eyes shut and half-shrugged, half-nodded, “I missed you too, Nikolai.”

He touched her cheek briefly, forcing her to finally open her eyes and face the music. Saints, his eyes were still that shocking storm of green and caramels. Hazel wasn’t enough to describe them. No. They were magnificent and calling them just hazel was downright rude.

And that smile… It still took her breath away. “So,” He started, a corner of his mouth tilting up, “How have you been? And why are you in this romantic getaway but all alone?”

Alina slumped into her chair with a sigh, “Because I wasn’t going to waste a perfectly good trip. One I paid in full.”

Nikolai sat in front of her. He laced his fingers under his chin and arched an inquiring eyebrow, “And why would it be wasted…?”

She swallowed down the bile and anger that bubbled up with that question. Then, remembering she was in the restaurant of the inn – a public place – she hissed, “I wanted to have a romantic Valentine’s getaway with Mal, so I got this to surprise him. Funny thing, he had a surprise for me too. And not a good one.” She stabbed her waffle again and wished for blini all of a sudden. “Imagine my utter surprise and disgust when I go to his workplace to show him the tickets and find his face stuffed between his co-worker’s legs. Oh, and she was calling him all sorts of dirty names and asking him to do all those things he did so well. So, not a one-time thing. Not that there would be any reasonable explanation for him to have his face between her legs!” The waffle flew out of her plate, startling Alina back into reality.

She looked up to Nikolai, expecting anything but the mix of revolt, anger and pity in his eyes. No, not pity. More like… Like he wished he could have spared her this.

Nikolai picked up the ruined waffle and waved in a waiter. He ordered them a plate of blini and hot chocolate. Then he looked back at Alina and sighed, his jaw tense. “I’m so sorry, Alina. No one deserves that, especially you.” He grabbed a napkin and started to press it into shapes, “I knew he wasn’t worthy of you, always so angry at your spending time with friends… Always so… So possessive of your decisions. But you loved him. And you were so happy to find him again after so long.” He sighed and curled and uncurled his fists, “But I never expected him to hurt you like this. Saints… I want to cave his face in.”

Alina blinked at the casual way he’d uttered such a violent suggestion. But she found she didn’t mind the idea. Not at all.

She drank some water and flashed a watery smile, “I know. I guess I was… Blind.” She shook her head. She certainly had been blind. And scared. Oh, what a coward. Instead of acting up on her budding feelings for Nikolai, she’d ran back into Mal’s arms just because he’d said he’d always loved her. Hah! What a lie. And how easily she’d fallen into it.

“Don’t blame yourself, sunshine. You’d always wondered what could have been.” He paused while their food was settled, only speaking again when the waiter was gone. “So, I take it you came here out of anger. Not wanting to throw away the cash?”

“I hoped I could forget all about it. About him, about the time I wasted with him…” She took a bite out of her blini and groaned, “But this place is stuffed with happy couples. It’s a bit hard to pretend otherwise. I can’t even…” She held her tongue, face growing hot with embarrassment.

But Nikolai wasn’t about to let it go, “Can’t what?”

She mumbled her reply into her mug.

Nikolai leaned in, hazel eyes shining with mirth, “Say that again?”

There was no point in denying it. He knew she’d said something juicy and wasn’t going to let go. She sighed and uttered the words, “Can’t even hook up to get back at him.”

Nikolai chuckled, “Because… couples?”

“Yes.”

“Well, would it be your only reason for hooking up with someone?” He asked, as casual as asking about the weather.

Alina shrugged, “Well, it was my first reason. But I guess I want to feel… Free again. Put it behind me. Feel good. He wasn’t… Well, let’s say that co-worker was definitely playing his ego.”

Nikolai snorted. He needed thirty seconds before composing himself and flashing the most mischievous grin he had, “Oh sunshine. Don’t ever change.”

--

They spent the next few hours catching up, a mix of regret and relief flooding Alina’s mind as she realised she’d missed Nikolai far more than she had thought. How had they drifted apart so easily?

Had she been so in love with the idea of being with Mal that she’d forgotten herself?

“Mum hates it, of course.” Nikolai chuckled, his hazel eyes like embers in the firelight, “She thinks I’m a fool for avoiding those balls. As if attending parties will help me become the heir she needs.” He shook his head and put away an empty glass.

“She seems to be under the impression you’re royalty, huh?” Alina joked, watching the way Nikolai’s lips stretched onto a grin he’d always reserved only for her. Saints, it sent her stomach into a series of backflips.

“You know her. So, what about you? How’s the florist shop going?”

She bit her lip and shrugged, “Not going.”

In an instant, Nikolai’s good humour slipped away, “What do you mean? I thought the shop was as good as yours.”

“The bank didn’t approve the credit and the seller got a better offer.”

Nikolai was silent for a long moment. Then, “And I wasn’t there…” It was more of a mumble to himself, she was sure of it, but she had still heard it.

“It’s fine. There’ll be another chance.” She said, trying to dispel that look of guilt that clouded Nikolai’s eyes.

“But you loved that place. I shouldn’t have been a gentleman. I should have insisted of helping you get it.”

“Then it wouldn’t be my hard won prize.” She countered, just like she had so many times before.

Nikolai chuckled, “I know. That’s why I always respected your decision. Still…”

“Don’t worry, Nikolai. It’s not like I don’t work with flowers. I just do it from my home.” A website, personalized orders and a living room always looking like a greenhouse. Well, considering Mal was out of the picture now, Alina could easily shift things around and have more space for her work.

“You shouldn’t.” He said. Then, in a flash, he was up, and offered a hand, “How about we keep business discussions to another time?”

She eyed the hand with curiosity, “Sure. What does that have to do with your hand hanging in front of my face?”

His wink overflowed with mischief, “They’re playing music over there, come on. Let’s dance.”

Dancing? With Nikolai? A sure way to fall back into that crush of hers. It was a terrible idea. Yet Alina’s hand still found its way to his own hand, and she found herself being led to a small dance floor, where Nikolai didn’t waste a second to sweep her off her feet.

Maybe there was still hope for Valentine’s Day.

--

“Well, that was exciting.” Nikolai fake-whispered as he led her to her room. “We should do it again tomorrow.”

Alina bit her lip, keeping a bubble of laughter out of the darkened corridor, “We covered the entry with snow, Nikolai! We can’t do it again without risking getting kicked out.”

“But making snow angels at midnight is so fun!”

“If you’re the one covering the other person with snow.” She bit back, though her bite was harmless as she couldn’t keep a grin off her face.

“I had to chill you a bit, you were looking so flushed I worried for your health!”

And just on cue, Alina’s blush turned ten shades darker. “Shut up.” She hissed, hoping he didn’t notice how red her face was.

But Nikolai wouldn’t be Nikolai if his keen eye didn’t catch it.

He braced a hand on the door, right next to her head and leaned in until their noses almost touched, “Why? Am I… Closing in on something?”

His closeness was too much. It made her remember all sorts of feelings she had and didn’t act on. It made her heart skip several beats only to then race to catch them. It made her stomach flutter like a million butterflies had burst to life in there. It made her wonder if he’d follow her through the door threshold.

She scoffed, or tried to, and looked away, “Like what?”

A corner of his lips curled up, “Like how badly I want to kiss you.”

What?

Alina gaped like a fish at him, blinking fast and wondering if pinching herself would be too much at this moment. “Did you…?” She rasped, her heart beating faster than it could beat. It wasn’t natural to beat this fast. Surely she was going to faint any moment now.

Nikolai let out a breathy chuckle, his hot breath teasing her further into cardiac arrest. “I did, sunshine.” He reached up with his other hand to play with a lock of her hair, “I have been dying to kiss you for so long, I no longer remember when it started. I do remember when I realised it was too late to make any move, though…” He added with a softer, sadder tone. “He was back and you needed to know.”

Just like that, Alina’s stomach fell flat on the floor. She looked down, her violent blush freezing in a second. “You really know how to woo a girl, huh?”

“I’m just being honest, sunshine. I remember when you dumped a freshly made pie on my head after you found out who I really was. Never again.” He chuckled, “Plus, I love that look on your face when I give you nothing but honesty. Makes me want to… do things.”

And there she went again. Stomach fluttering, heart going wild, cheeks blazing.

“Are you stalling?”

He shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing hers for one aching second, “Just making sure I read the signs right.”

“Oh?” She uttered, realising she had a hand grasping the lapel of his coat, “What signs?”

He hummed and leaned down to brush a kiss on her throat, right where her heart was beating so loud, “That you are thinking of me and me alone. That you’re no longer looking for ways to get over… him.” He let out that last word with such venom and offense on her behalf, Alina found herself actually turned on.

“I… I really…” she cleared her throat and pulled him closer, “My head is full of you, Nikolai.” She winced, “That came out wrong…”

His laugher startled her for a moment, before his mouth was kissing her neck again, “Sunshine, you are… brilliant.”

She started to moan, the sound far too loud for a dark corridor in the middle of the night, “Nikolai… Please…”

His hum reverberated throughout her body, igniting her blood in a flash, “I want to take my time with you, Alina. My sunshine…” He looked up, pure adoration and longing in his eyes, “I want to enjoy every second we get together. All of it.”

“Me too.” She said in a breathy voice.

Nikolai leaned in and smiled against her neck, proceeding to slowly kiss every bit of skin he could kiss. He made a slow trek up her neck, along her jaw and down the other side of her neck, earning sweet moans out of Alina’s mouth to the point she was close to begging for his lips on hers.

The breaking point was so close, Alina’s legs were ready to give out on her.

And that’s when Nikolai cupped her face between his hands and offered her the most beautiful smile he had to offer her, “Saints, sunshine… I love you so much. Being apart was… too much. Too much…” And then… at last…

He kissed her.

And it was…

It was…

Far better than anything she’d ever dreamed of.

It was a kiss with magic. It was so…! The kind of kiss she was sure was what people meant with true love’s kiss in fairy tales. It made her fly. It made her glow. It made her so happy…!

And then, it was over far too soon. Despite the fact that her lips were swollen from kissing so hard. Despite the fact that her lungs had been burning for air. Despite the fact that she now knew every detail of Nikolai’s lips.

It was too short.

“Wait…” She started, only to be stopped by a quick peck on the lips.

“Tomorrow, sunshine. I… Trust me, I too want to kiss you until I can’t breathe, but… I want to take our time. And, well… Tomorrow…” He chuckled, “Or I suppose today in a few hours… We can continue this, yes?”

“I guess…” She let out, still holding onto his coat.

“Well,” Nikolai started, opening the door to her room with a drunk smile on his face, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sunshine. I look forward to making it a memorable one…” Then he kissed her again and was off to his room, leaving Alina behind and fashioning the stupidest grin on her face.

“Me too…” She let out with a sigh, slipping into her room with a thousand ideas of things to do with Nikolai.

This Valentine’s Day was officially the best in recorded history. And it was only beginning.