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watchyourbluesturngolden · 4 years ago

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you are my home

this started out as a little concept, and then i thought it might be fun to write a whole fic out of it!

(side note: I know we have no idea if sarah and mitch are having a boy or girl, so i just went with girl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

warnings: angst, relationship struggles, arguments

word count: 11.5k (the longest thing i've ever written :) )

"Just an eighth of a cup?"

"That's what it says," Harry shrugged, looking at the recipe on his phone. "Look, one eighth cup of milk. Right here-" He tilted the screen toward you.

"I believe you, it's just weird, it doesn't seem like a lot," you mused, but followed his instructions anyways. You were making chicken parmesan, and the two of you had a rather long history of butchered recipes. It was usually because you were too wrapped up in each other to read the recipe properly. Or because Harry would start kissing you while the food was cooking, murmuring against your lips that "we have plenty of time". Unfortunately, he usually got carried away, leaving you with a flushed face and burnt food.

Not this time, though. You were determined to make this one right. You stirred the milk into the mixture, watching carefully and turning the heat down when it began to bubble.

"Now... we just have to wait while it simmers for a few minutes," you said, setting the spatula down in the spoon rest. "So far, so good."

"I can think of something for us to do for a few minutes," Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist. He leaned down, beginning to kiss your neck, but you quickly squirmed away.

"Nope, not this time," you grabbed the spatula again, brandishing it like a weapon. "Stay back. We're not taking any chances with this one. I'm tired of throwing out charred food and ordering pizza."

"Pizza is good, though," he argued, stepping closer again as you moved farther away.

"Not as good as our homemade chicken parmesan will be if you can just be patient for three minutes."

"Three minutes?" He practically whined.

You rolled your eyes. "You will be fine for three minutes. Wait until the food is done."

He huffed, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. "Can't believe you're depriving me of your love like this."

"Yes, you're so terribly deprived," you said sarcastically. "it's not like I've been by your side constantly for the past 72 hours."

"Well, time flies when you're with the love of your life."

You smiled, stepping forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Just one. He grabbed at your forearms, trying to keep you close, but you jumped back.

"No," you said sternly. "The food is almost done and I'm not burning this one too."

"Fine," he groaned. "But speaking of 72 hours... I was wondering about something."

You hummed questioningly, stirring the sauce.

"I was just kind of thinking... I mean, we're together all the time. When we're in the States we're together at your place, and when we're in London we're together at mine. So do you think... maybe we should just... officially move in together?"

You froze, suddenly feeling your heart thudding. It's not like you hadn't thought about it before. You had; a lot, actually. Of course you wanted to live with him. You hated being apart from him, and you knew he felt the same about you.

But still, moving to a whole different continent is a pretty big step. You didn't know how that would work for your job, and you weren't exactly excited to be so far away from all your friends and family.

"You don't have to answer right now," He was quick to interject, seemingly noticing how worried you looked. "Not at all. I just... I think it would be nice to have you with me. I just hate all the back and forth, and I'd kind of like to have a place we can call home together."

A small smile spread over your face as you thought about how nice it really would be. You thought of waking up on a rainy morning, cuddled into his side as you listened to the raindrops patter on the window. You thought of baking cookies in the kitchen with him. Taking bubble baths together. Going on walks in the park every evening. All of that would be so much better if it didn't have an end date lurking around the corner. If you knew you wouldn't have to fly back home in a few days or weeks or months.

"It would be really nice," you agreed. "I just... what about my work and stuff?"

"We can figure that out," he said. "We can do it however you want. I'm sure they could set it up so you can work remotely, or you could get a different job in London, or... you don't actually have to work if you don't want to."

"What, just be your little housewife?" you teased, looking over your shoulder at him.

"No," he grinned. "Well, maybe-"

You turned and snapped a hand towel at him before he could finish that sentence. He jumped away, grinning boyishly and holding his hands up in surrender.

"That's not how I meant it, and you know it. But seriously, if you don't want to work you don't have to."

"I would like to be there with you, and know I don't have to leave anytime soon," you said thoughtfully.

"Like I said, you don't have to decide right now. Why don't you just think about it? As much as I want you to, it is a big decision and I don't want you to rush into anything you're not okay with."

Before you could speak again, the timer on your phone went off.

"That's the sauce," you said, turning around and turning the gas off. "See? It's not so hard to keep your hands off of me for long enough to cook a meal, is it?"

He scoffed. "Speak for yourself. I nearly died. Of lonliness."

-----

In the next few days, you thought about Harry's offer a lot. You couldn't deny that you really liked the idea. What could be better than living with the love of your life? Never having to leave to pick up more clothes, never forgetting something important at home, always being in the same country as him. There were just a few things you worried about. Your job, for one. Yes, Harry had offered for you to quit working, but you weren’t sure if that was the best idea. You liked your job, and being able to earn your own money.

Harry was probably right; it probably could be done remotely. But you would kind of miss seeing your coworkers, at least the few you had been close with.

Then there was the matter of your friends. You would really miss having girls' nights, and gossiping about their boyfriends, and getting mani-pedis every month. Sure, you knew you would be back to visit. But you also knew it would be different.

Then, the thing you were most worried about: your family. You had always been close with them, especially your mom. You went to see her and your dad every week, and you called them almost every day. You weren't sure how well you would cope with being so far away from them.

But at the same time, you were incredibly excited by the idea of moving to London. You had been there before, of course, but never for longer than a few weeks. You wanted to get the full experience. You wanted Harry to show you around, take you to his favorite places. You wanted to go to the town he grew up in, see the bakery he never shut up about. You wanted to be a part of his life, in every way.

So, a week after he first asked you, you made up your mind. You were laying on the couch with him, tracing over his tattoos with your fingers while some cooking show played. He was pretty involved, every so often groaning or shaking his head or tsking at the contestants' "complete lack of skills." You weren't paying any attention, though. You were trying to decide how to bring up the conversation from earlier.

Eventually, you decided to just go for it.

"Harry?" you asked, not looking up from your fingers on his arms.

"Hm?" He replied, peeling his eyes away from the screen to look at you.

"I was thinking... about what you said the other day."

"Yeah?" He sat up more, muting the TV. "What about it?"

"I just think- I mean, there's still some stuff to figure out, but I would really like to move into your place in London."

"Really?" His face lit up.

You nodded. "I'm a little worried about my work, and leaving my family and friends, but... I want to be with you. I hate when one of us has to leave. I just want to go to sleep next to you, and wake up next to you, and not have an end date hanging over my head every time we're together."

"I like the sound of that," he smiled, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "And like I said, we'll figure out your work. And we'll come back to visit whenever you want to. It's only like... a nine hour flight."

"Right, basically nothing," you laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"Right," he smiled. "But really. Any time you need to see your people, we'll come see them."

"We?"

He nodded, seeming confused by your questioning tone.

"You wouldn't have to do that," you shook your head. "I don't want to make you-"

"I want to." He cut you off. "I'm not going to just let you fly for 18 hours all alone. Plus, I'd miss you too much while you were gone."

"That's sweet," you said, a light flush heating up your face. "Also, my family might be disappointed if I came back and you weren't with me. I think they like you more than me at this point."

"That was the plan all along," he grinned.

You hit his arm playfully, but didn't move your head. "So what would that look like?"

"Well, really we could do whatever you want to. We could just move all your stuff into my place, or if you wanted, we could maybe find somewhere new? Somewhere that's just ours."

"Harry, we are not buying a whole new house when you basically have a mansion. That would be stupid."

"I'm actually really glad you feel that way. That mansion was bloody expensive."

-----

"How much longer until your lease is up?" Harry's impatient voice came through the phone.

"One less day than when I told you yesterday," you rolled your eyes. He was worse than a kid waiting for Christmas. He asked nearly every day if he could just pay off the lease for you and have you move right then. Your answer was always no; you had decided to finish it out on your own. Kind of like closing one chapter of your life before you start another.

There were just two weeks left now, and the evidence was all around the place. You and Harry had started to box up your smaller items, and the space already felt much less like home. You had taken pictures off the walls; cleared trinkets off the bookshelves. In the next few days, you were going to go through your clothes and decide what would come with you and what would be donated.

Harry had been excited to help with the whole process, but he had to go back to London a week earlier than he planned. Of course, you weren't happy about this, but you kind of liked having some time alone to say goodbye to the place you had called home for the past five years.

So you did just that. You wandered around, smiling at the patched spot in the wall from when Harry had knocked over a lamp stumbling around in the dark. You ran your fingers over the slight scorch mark on the table from when you made dinner, but forgot to set down a potholder. Your toe scuffled over the nail polish stain on the rug, from when Harry had tried to paint your nails.

All these little things made your little apartment feel like your home. You would miss them, but you had realized something as you thought back to all the memories. Most of them had been with Harry. Yes, you were leaving some memories behind, but you weren't leaving HIM behind. You would make new memories together, wherever you lived. As long as it was together.

"It's just two weeks, baby, and then we'll be together."

"Two weeks is so long," he sighed.

"It'll go by fast," you promised. "It is for me. I'm keeping busy over here."

"Me too," he took on an offended tone. "Very busy. I'm doing lots of things."

"What have you been up to?" You asked, settling back onto the couch. It was weird to see how empty your space was, but it was nice to be able to put your feet on the coffee table without knocking over the various decorations that usually adorned it.

"Some work stuff, but mostly clearing out space for you. You have a lot of stuff."

"I do not," you scoffed. "I probably have less hair products than you do."

"Hey," he cried. "Rude. My hair is luxurious. It takes a lot of upkeep."

You smiled, shaking your head.

“I moved a lot of stuff into the guest closet, so you can have half of the one in our room."

"Really?" You asked, a little surprised. You knew how well organized he kept his closet, so it was a little shocking that he was willing to just move everything.

"Of course. You'll be living here too, you need someplace to keep your clothes."

"I don't think I'll be able to fill half of your closet, though," you laughed.

"Guess we'll have to go shopping, then!" He chirped.

"I guess," you agreed with a smile.

You heard muffled voices in the background before Harry spoke again.

"I'm sorry, love, but I have to go." he sounded frustrated. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you!"

"Love you too."

-----

"Today's the day!" Harry practically yelled through the phone.

"I know!" You said, trying to match his enthusiasm. You were slightly less excited. After all, you still had a nine hour flight ahead of you. But you knew that by this time tomorrow, you would officially be living with Harry, and that made it worth it.

"Do you have everything packed?" He asked.

"Pretty much. I'm just throwing the last of my stuff into my bag."

"Did you make a shopping list for when you get here?"

"I was gonna do that on the plane. It'll be something for me to do," you said, turning on the speakerphone so you could move around more freely.

"Yeah, good plan," he agreed. "I've said this a few times already, but I'm so excited for you to be here with me."

"Have you? Have you really said it a few times? I wasn't aware," you laughed.

"Be nice to me, I'm just happy," he said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"I know, I'm sorry," you shook your head with a smile. "I'm excited too. But I have to go now, I have to finish packing."

"Ok," he replied sadly. "See you soon!"

-----

You spotted him right after you got off the plane. He was standing near the gate, searching the crowd expectantly. Once he locked eyes with you, his face lit up in a huge smile. He made his way through the crowd, meeting you with open arms. He acted like he hadn't seen you in weeks, even though it had only been four days.

He buried his face in your neck, holding you tightly against him.

"I missed you," he murmured.

"I missed you too," you breathed deeply, inhaling his familiar scent. "But I'm here now. And now we can go home."

"Yeah," he grinned. "Home."

-----

"Harry, the movers can carry some of it, that's their job," you reminded him as he grabbed one of the boxes.

"Yeah, but it'll go faster if I carry some stuff," he argued, motioning to the door with his head. "Open that for me?"

You did as he asked, shaking your head as he brought the box of books inside. He insisted on helping, even though he had hired a team of movers to do this for you.

"Where do you wanna put these?" He asked, looking around the living room. "They can go on the shelf in here, or the one in our room."

"I'm not sure, I think I want some in here and some in the room. Why don't we go through them later?"

"Sounds good," he nodded, setting the box down in front of the bookshelf. "Another box!"

You shook your head again, going into the kitchen as he went back outside. You started going through the cupboards, checking to make sure you didn’t have any duplicates on your shopping list. He already had quite a few of the items you needed, so you could remove several things.

Once the last few boxes had been brought in, and Harry had thanked the movers profusely, he collapsed on the couch.

"I told you you shouldn't have done so much, now you're all tired out," you joked, going to sit next to him.

He nodded. "You were right. I need a nap after all that." He got up, pushing you to lay down and then crawling on top of you. He laid his head on your stomach, sighing contentedly when you ran your fingers through his hair.

"Oh wait," he lifted his head, already sounding half asleep. "We didn't even get groceries yet. We have to-" He began to get up, but you stopped him with a gentle hand on his face.

You shook your head, running your thumb over his cheekbone lightly. "We can do that later, baby. Just go to sleep for a while."

"Yeah," he nodded slightly. "I'm just gonna go to sleep for a while."

"Okay," you smiled. "Sweet dreams."

-----

When Harry woke up, he was alone on the couch. He frowned at the lack of warmth, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it around himself. He wasn't sure how you had managed to get out from under him without waking him, but he wasn't happy about it.

He planned to go back to sleep, but sighed when his phone buzzed. He reached for it, but then paused for a minute. He decided whatever it was could wait. He retracted his arm, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and snuggling into the back of the couch.

Just as he was about to drift off, his phone began buzzing again. This time, it didn't stop. He groaned, but grabbed it this time. He squinted at the bright light, trying to make out who was trying so hard to contact him.

It was Jeff. There were two missed calls and a text. He swiped on the text, his frown deepening as he read the message.

Jeff: I'm sure you're going to see this soon enough, but the moving van was spotted outside your house. There's already a few articles out, and I'm sure there'll be more. Just wanted to let you know so you don't have to hear it from some trashy website, and maybe you should let Y/N know to stay away from socials for a while. Sorry about this.

Harry groaned, throwing his arm over his face. He had known this was likely to happen, but at the same time he had hoped it wouldn't. He was so happy right now, and he didn't need that to be tainted by rude articles and crazy fans and speculations about his relationships. He just wanted to sit back and relax with his love for a few days, but apparently that was too much for him to ask.

Normally, he wouldn't even look at the articles. He knew they would only be upsetting. This time, though, he felt like he should. He wasn't sure how you would react to this, and it might be easier if he knew what you would be seeing all over the internet for the next week.

So, he opened google and searched "harry styles". Instantly, his screen filled with pictures of the moving van outside his house. There were even a few pictures of him carrying boxes, and one of your back as you walked inside. He huffed angrily. This was supposed to be a happy day, and now he was in a bad mood. His privacy had been violated yet again, and it was hard for him to stay positive after that.

Then he began scrolling through the article titles. He rolled his eyes at the baited language that was clearly meant to create negative responses.

"HARRY STYLES seen MOVING BOXES? Is he going out... or is someone coming in?"

"Harry Styles spotted with NEWEST GIRLFRIEND"

"ANOTHER GIRL? HARRY SHARES HIS HOUSE... YET AGAIN!"

"Just a friend? Or Harry's latest lover?"

"Guess which FORMER ONE DIRECTION STAR is shacking up with his SECRET GIRLFRIEND!"

Against his better judgement, he clicked on one of the articles. His heart sunk further with every sentence he read.

"It's no secret that Harry Styles has been with a lot of women (read about each of his past relationships here). But is there someone new for the Watermelon Sugar singer?

A moving van was spotted outside of Harry's house today, and the star was seen moving boxes into his 8.7 million dollar mansion.

As if that’s not enough, there was a woman seen heading into the house with Harry. Could this mean a new romance for the Grammy winning artist? Well, don’t be too sure. There are many possible explanations for these new living arrangements. Maybe she’s a friend going through a hard time, or even just a family member who needs a couch to crash on.

Or maybe she’s Harry’s newest conquest. Yet another notch in the bed stand! Way to go, Styles!

However, we can’t help but notice: she doesn’t seem like Harry’s type. Come on girl, leggings and a hoodie? And that hair? Apparently, she’s not trying too hard to impress him.

We don’t know all the details yet, but stay tuned! We’ve reached out to Harry’s management for more information. Check back for more updates, and subscribe to our email list so you don’t miss anything!”

Harry clicked off his phone with a sigh. He stood up from the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he made his way into the kitchen.

No matter how upset he was, he was sure the sight in front of him would always bring a smile to his face. You were wearing one of his t-shirts, dancing slightly to your music as you stirred the pot in front of you. Harry leaned against the door frame, giving himself a few minutes to take this in. He couldn’t believe he would get to experience this every day from now on.

With a fond smile still on his face, he walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, adjusting the blanket so it draped over your shoulders as well.

“Hi,” you smiled, leaning back against him. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Would have been better if you didn’t get up,” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder to look into the pot.

“Oh please, you were totally dead to the world. I’ve been in here for half an hour now, and you only just woke up.”

“Still,” he said, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “What are you making?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese,” you explained. “I wasn’t in the mood to do any real cooking.”

“Sounds delicious,” he smiled. “S’it almost done?”

“Should be like five more minutes,” you glanced over at the timer on your phone. “Want to get the plates?”

“No, just want to hold you,” he said, pressing his face further into your neck. “I’m not awake yet.”

“Fine,” you said, setting the spoon down. “Then you gotta walk with me, because I need to set the table.”

“I can do that,” he said, his voice muffled.

You smiled, moving around the room to get everything you needed while Harry clung to you like a koala. The smell of food seemed to perk him up, because within a few minutes he was lifting his head and leaning less of his weight on you.

“Smells really good, love,” he said, finally pulling himself away from you.

“I know, I’m an amazing chef,” you grinned, lifting the pot off the stove and bringing it to the table. This time, you remembered to set down a potholer. You didn’t really want to ruin this table that probably cost more than your entire apartment.

“You are,” he agreed, pulling out your chair before sitting down next to you. He scooted his chair closer, moving the blanket again so you were both under it.

His mood seemed to change suddenly as he was piling the food onto your plates.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, looking more upset than you had seen in a while.

“What?” You asked, turning slightly to face him.

“I don’t really… there’s no nice way to say it,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “Someone took pictures of the moving van and us bringing stuff in, and there’s some pretty nasty articles.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that. It’s not like you didn’t expect this, but you had hoped to have a few peaceful days with Harry before being attacked by the media. “Is it- how bad is it?”

“It’s... not good,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t recommend looking at it. That stuff is terrible, always has been. They always seem to know exactly how to tear people down; make you feel bad about yourself. You might wanna stay off social media, just for a few days until some of the crazies calm down.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” he looked up quickly. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one that should be sorry, they’re writing terrible stuff about you, and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” you were quick to shut him down. “And I’m sure it bothers you too. I know you don’t like when they get personal information.”

“No, I really don’t,” he agreed. “But I wish they left you out of it.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” you said, leaning your head on his arm. “Because now I’m here, and we’re together, and I don’t have to leave anytime soon.”

-----

After dinner, Harry decided you should get some more of your things put away. He brought your bag to the bathroom, dumping everything out onto the vanity.

“Why do you have so many bottles?” He asked, picking up the closest one.

“Because,” you said, grabbing it out of his hands. “They all do different things. This one is moisturizer, this one makes sure my skin doesn’t get too oily-”

“So why don’t you just not use either of them? Seems like they cancel each other out anyways.”

You shot him a glare. “That’s not how it works. Anyways, this one's for dark spots. These glass ones are mineral oils. This blue one is for wrinkles- you know, gotta get ahead of those- and this one is rose water. It doesn’t really do anything, it basically just smells good. Then that’s my hair stuff- and I was right by the way, you do have way more than I do. And this is a face mask, and that one close to the sink is a hair mask, and this little tub is an exfoliator, and this cloth is a makeup remover, but it’s better for the environment than individual wipes. And then my makeup is here- so liquid foundation, setting powder, blush, concealer, mascara, eye shadow, eyeliner, and the brushes. I actually don’t have that much stuff,” you shrugged, looking at the bottles splayed everywhere.

“Right… not that much stuff,” he said, his eyes wide. “It’s a good thing I asked Gemma how she organizes all her stuff, because she told me to get one of these things.” He opened the cupboard under the sink, pulling out a spinning makeup organizer. “Hopefully all of your million bottles fit on this.”

“You got this for me?” you asked, smiling. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Well, I don’t think your stuff would have fit in the drawers,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, shush,” you rolled your eyes. “Help me get all this organized, will you?”

-----

The next week was pretty smooth, minus that little hiccup with the press. You did as Harry suggested, and stayed off Twitter and Instagram. You didn’t think it would be too bad, but you had gotten a few texts from concerned family and friends that made you wonder how bad it really was.

Either way, you didn’t really want to look. You and Harry were essentially honeymooning, and you weren’t about to let a few nasty articles ruin it.

“We haven’t gone for groceries yet,” Harry reminded you, coming up behind you as you did your morning skincare routine.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot about that,” you said, closing the bottle of moisturizer. “We can go whenever, just let me get dressed.”

He nodded. “What all do we need?”

“I don’t think there’s too much, but we need some fruit. Most of yours is bad at this point.”

“Yeah, that happens.” He laughed. “I usually buy a whole bunch and then end up having to leave, so then I come home to a fridge full of rotten fruit.”

“Lovely,” you joked. “I also need some chips, all your snacks are healthy.”

“I have no idea what chips are, but we can buy some crisps, if that’s what you meant,” he smiled at you in the mirror.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, hitting his arm playfully. “I’m not going to call them crisps just because I live here now. I’m still American.”

“Fine, but when we have kids, they will not be using your American words. I’m not letting you corrupt my children like that.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Well then, it’s too bad you moved in with me, isn’t it?”

-----

“Ooh, we need these!” Harry said, grabbing a bag of brownie bites.

“Why do we need those?”

“Because they’re delicious,” he said, looking at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“If you say so,” you shrugged, pushing the cart forward after he threw the bag in. “Where is the pasta?”

“Aisle 17,” he answered immediately.

“Is it really?” You asked, a little surprised he had the aisle numbers memorized.

“I have no idea,” he laughed. “It’s just the first number that popped into my head. I think it’s that way? Or maybe over here…” he trailed off, like he was trying to remember where to go. “I actually have no idea.”

“Wow, you're so helpful.”

“I know,” he grinned. “I don’t know, just start wandering around and we’ll find it eventually.”

“What a plan,” you shook your head, but followed him anyway. It’s not like you were in any rush, and you were both having a good time.

“Oh look!” You said, turning into an aisle. “I found the chips.”

“The what?” Harry called from the next row over. “I thought you said something, but I must have heard you wrong.”

“No, I just said I found the chips,” you repeated. “You know, little cooked potato slices?”

“I’m sorry love, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He said, joining you in the aisle. “Oh, silly me. You meant crisps!”

“Nope,” you grabbed a bag of Doritos. “I meant exactly what I said.” You placed the bag in the cart, turning back to Harry. You leaned up on your tiptoes, moving closer to his face. “Chips,” you whispered, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and then turning around again.

“You can’t seduce me into calling them the wrong name,” he scoffed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, pushing the cart away. “Did you find the pasta yet?”

“No, but I did find the ice cream,” he said, easily catching up to you with his long legs.

“Ooh, I think that’s where we need to go next.”

“I agree,” he grinned, steering the cart in the right direction. “I think we should probably just get all of them, ya know? That way we won’t miss out on anything good.”

��Harry, there’s like thirty different flavors here,” you laughed. “We are not getting that much ice cream, we don’t even have that much space in the freezer.”

“No, that’s just because I have a bunch of frozen food in there. It’s mostly vegetables. Not that important. I can just throw that all away,” he argued, already opening the freezer door to reach for some ice cream.

“We are not buying thirty cartons of ice cream,” you shook your head. “We can get, like, ten, at most. Even that-”

“You already said ten!” he said, pressing a finger against your lips. “You can’t go back on that now. So pick some flavors!”

-----

“Which one do we want to try first?” He asked, looking at the large selection you had bought.

“Um… I think the salted caramel core,” you decided, picking up the carton of ice cream.

“Oh! You know what we need with all of this?”

“Insulin?”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the bags from earlier and pulling out the brownie bites. “I told you we needed these, they’ll go perfect with the ice cream.”

“Ooh,” you nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“I know,” he said proudly. “I’m full of good ideas. Actually, I have another one. Let’s go watch The Office while we eat our delicious brownie bites.”

“Ok, but if you put on the UK version I might have to leave.”

“I would never,” he said in an offended tone. “I’m not a monster.”

-----

“I don’t want to go back to work,” he sighed. “I just wanna stay here with you.”

“I know,” you said, tracing patterns on his chest. “But I have to start working again too. I don’t think my boss is too happy about this whole arrangement, so I have to make everything twice as good so she’ll let me keep doing it this way.”

“Yeah,” he said, running his fingers through your hair. “I’m saying again, you could just quit.”

“I’m not quitting,” you shook your head. “I like my job. And I can do it all from the house, so it’s a really good deal.”

“I wish I could do that,” he sighed again.

“That wouldn’t work,” you smiled. “If we were both here all day, neither of us would get anything done.”

“You might be right,” he laughed. “You’re very distracting.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

“Very,” he grinned. You recognized the look in his eyes, and you knew if you didn’t get up soon you wouldn’t any time in the next hour

So before he could move too far and start kissing at your neck, you rolled off him.

“I have to get ready for work,” you said, getting out of bed.

“What do you mean get ready? You don’t have to go anywhere, we have all the time in the world,” he pouted, reaching out his arm for you.

“I don’t, but you do. Jeff has been texting you nonstop, and Sarah called the other day and told me she’s getting restless at home. So I’m taking the baby today, so all of you can get some work in.”

“You are? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, if you knew we were having the baby here, you would come up with some excuse to stay here.”

“Maybe,” he smiled, still making no moves to get up. “She’s just so cute.”

“Well, sometime we can offer to babysit so Sarah and Mitch can go out for the evening or something. But you have to go in today, so you should probably get dressed.”

He groaned, flopping his head back into the pillows.

-----

“Harry! They’re here!” You called, opening the door and inviting Sarah and Mitch in. “Hi guys, Harry’s being a drama queen today so I’m not sure when he’ll be down.”

“When isn’t he?” Sarah smiled, stepping into the room with the baby in her arms. Mitch was carrying the diaper bag, which he set down on the bench next to the door.

Sarah handed the baby over to you as Harry came down the stairs.

“Aw, can I hold her?” He asked, not even greeting his friends.

“No,” all three of you said at once.

“Why?” He whined before smiling at the baby in your arms.

“Because you won’t be able to put her down,” you said, laughing when the other two nodded. “See, they know I’m right.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But Mitch, you’re taking Sarah out tomorrow night and we’re babysitting.”

“I’m alright with that,” Sarah smiled. “Y/N, you should have everything you need in the diaper bag. There’s enough formula for a few bottles, but she won’t need to eat for an hour or so. Other than that she’ll probably sleep most of the time, she’s a pretty quiet baby. She takes after her dad.”

You nodded, bouncing her lightly. Harry was already in her face, smiling and cooing and offering his finger for her to grab. She seemed to like the attention, and was smiling right back at him.

“Harry, we have to go,” Sarah said with one hand on the doorknob.

He huffed. “Just when I start to make a connection with the child, I’m ripped away.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ll have her tomorrow night. You can connect with her then.”

“It won’t be the same,” he said. “You know- why don’t we just take her with us? She can just come with us-” he was already moving toward you again, but Mitch grabbed his shoulder.

“No, Harry, we actually have to get some stuff done today.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “But you better send me pictures if she does anything cute,” he pointed at you.

“Everything she does is cute,” Mitch argued.

“You’re really not helping,” Sarah said, hitting his arm. “I thought I had one child, but turns out I have three.”

-----

The next few days were not very productive for Harry. He was having a hard time getting back in the swing of things, and it felt like everything he did was bad. He couldn’t write or play anything he liked. He just felt stuck.

They went over some old stuff, just so he didn’t feel like they totally wasted their time. Still, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly frustrated. He didn’t usually have issues with writers’ block, and he expected to be even better now that you were with him all the time. He had always been more productive when he got to see you, so he thought living with you would give him an extra boost. Apparently not.

Then, to make everything worse, more pictures and articles came out. Pictures from the day you had gone grocery shopping had been captured by some fan, but for some reason hadn’t come out until today.

But they were suddenly everywhere. There were even more articles than before, and this time it was worse because there were full pictures of your face. Before, there had only been one blurry shot of your back, and that alone got enough criticism. Now it was like the floodgates had opened. Every aspect of your appearance was being ripped apart, along with Harry’s “decision making”.

He saw the first article when they were taking a break for lunch one day. They had ordered some pizzas, and everyone was spread out on the couches across the room.

Harry unlocked his phone, ready to call you and ask about your day, but was instead met with another text from Jeff. Like the one before, he had advised Harry to keep you off social media for the next few days and apologized that it got this out of hand.

Sighing, he decided to see what they were saying this time.

“Harry Styles goes on a shopping spree- But who’s that with him?”

“Harry’s “new girlfriend” shops with him?”

"DID SHE MOVE IN?”“

“MYSTERY GIRL and HARRY STYLES search for the necessities!”

He clicked on one of the articles.

“Harry Styles and his mystery lady were seen shopping last week. We can’t help but think things might be getting more serious!

The former One Direction star was spotted moving boxes into his house a few weeks ago. What we thought may have just been a favor for a friend might be something much more juicy!

Maybe she’s not just another notch in the bed stand- maybe this one will stick around!

But really, if she wants to stick around- maybe she should watch what she eats. The Sign of the Times singer was searching for healthy snacks, while his newest girlfriend filled the cart with ice cream and chips. Seems like a recipe for disaster between the two!

Again, she’s seen wearing a very simple outfit. And no (or at least, very little!) makeup. Come on girl, you couldn’t have at least used a little concealer for those eye bags?

It seems like she’s just not trying very hard! We have to wonder- how long can this last?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry groaned, grabbing the pillow next to him and chucking it across the room.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Sarah asked. Everyone had noticed how on edge he had been lately, but no one was quite sure how to address his moodiness.

“Another article just came out,” he sighed. “It’s worse than the last one. I’m so sick of this.”

“Does Y/N know?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore, but he knew they wouldn’t just leave it without knowing if you were ok.

“You should probably call her, so she doesn’t hear it from someone else,” Sarah advised. “I would want to find out from someone I loved.”

“I can’t- I really don’t want to talk to her right now.”

“Did something happen with you two?” Mitch asked, confused. The two of you had been inseparable lately, so this was strange.

Harry shook his head.

“I just- can we just not talk about it?”

He could tell they didn’t want to drop it, but one of the assistants came in with the pizza, and Harry was clearly done talking.

His mood only got worse for the rest of the day. He still couldn’t make anything new, and he was even having trouble with things he already knew. He struggled to hit the higher notes, and his throat was getting sore from trying to force it. By the time people were starting to head home, he was ready to throw a lot more than a pillow.

Harry dropped his keys when he was trying to unlock the door, and then his coat fell off the hook when he tried to hang it up. By the time he got to the kitchen, his jaw was clenched and he was fuming.

“Hi,” you said tentatively, noticing how angry he looked.

“Hi,” he said shortly, opening the fridge. “Is there anything to eat?”

“I didn’t make anything,” you said, still typing on your computer.

“You didn’t-” He shut the fridge aggressively, the bottles and containers in the door clinking against each other. “You couldn’t make supper for one night?”

“Excuse me?” You looked up, crossing your arms defensively. “I’ve been working.”

“So have I!”

“And I don’t expect you to make supper after you’ve been working all day!”

“It’s different, you’re home all day!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not busy, Harry. You know that.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, you could stop yelling at me for starters! I didn’t do anything wrong and you're acting like you hate me.”

His face softened immediately, and he stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I don’t hate you, I could never. I just-” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’m having a terrible time with work. I can’t do anything right, nothing is working, and all these articles-”

“The articles came out weeks ago, Harry. It’s not that big of a deal anymore.”

“No,” he shook his head. “There’s more. A lot more, and they’re worse than before.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know,” he replied. “I should have told you earlier, I just- I don’t know. I don’t want you to have to deal with this.”

“Well, keeping it a secret from me and then yelling at me isn’t going to help anything,” you said, arms still crossed. “I know you’ve been having a hard time lately, Sarah told me. You can talk to me, you know. You don’t have to just keep everything in.”

“I didn’t want to put this on you,” he admitted, looking down.

“I want to know,” you told him. “I want to know when things are upsetting you or you’re having a hard time at work. You can tell me those things.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn't have raised my voice. Please forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you,” you said, moving around the table and closer to him. He looked up, opening his arms and smiling as you stepped into them.

“It will get better soon,” he promised. “It won't be this hard for long."

-----

Despite his hopeful words, your situation didn’t get any easier. More articles came out, most of them attacking Harry for his past relationships and wondering how long this one would last. His writers’ block showed no signs of easing up, and he was getting more frustrated with every day that passed.

On top of all this, you had started missing deadlines for work. The difference in time zones made it more difficult than you had anticipated, and your boss was not happy. You’d already had to sit through three Zoom meetings this week, with her lecturing you on “the importance of timeliness and responsibility.”

You were not in the right state of mind to deal with Harry’s moodiness, and the atmosphere between you was painfully tense.

That is, until it all boiled over one day.

Harry came home angry, again. He slammed the door shut and basically stomped to the kitchen. Your day had already been stressful enough, and you weren’t about to let him take out his frustration on you.

“Don’t even start with me today, Harry,” you shook your head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, immediately getting defensive.

“I know you probably had a terrible day, but so did I. I’m sick of us fighting.”

“You think I want to fight? I’m so sorry for being stressed,” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“And I’m not? It’s not like you’re the only one in the world having a hard time, Harry!”

“What do you have to be stressed about? I’m the one who can’t get any work done, and I’m the one getting ripped apart by the media,” he huffed.

“Excuse me? Have you been on ANY social media lately? Are you the one getting called ugly for not wearing enough makeup? Or accused of being “Harry's newest slut”? Because that’s that they’re saying about me!”

“And how do you think that looks for my reputation?”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that people are attacking you?”

“No,” he sighed, dropping his face into his hands. “I don’t want to fight about this. I’m just really stressed right now, and-”

“Again, Harry, so am I! I changed my entire world to come and be with you, and it’s like you don’t even care, or appreciate all the sacrifices I made!”

“What sacrifices? You don’t-”

“You did not just say that,” you breathed. “Are you kidding me? I gave up everything! I left all my family and friends. I can’t go out in public without people taking pictures of me, and posting them, and saying terrible things about me. I’m trying to figure out my new work situation, and my boss is pissed at me all the time. I’m probably going to get fired if I don’t figure something out. I-”

“You act like you’re the only one with work troubles!” he exclaimed. “My entire career is on the line if I don’t start writing again soon. And all this shit in the press- it’s not exactly motivating.”

“It’s affecting my job too. Do you think my company wants to be involved with all the drama about us? It doesn’t look good for them. All the more reason for them to fire me.”

“But it’s worse for me!” he raised his voice to match yours.

“Why is it worse for you, Harry?”

“Because-” He stopped himself, seemingly knowing he had gone too far.

“No, say it. Say why it matters more to you. Because everything about you is more important, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“But it’s exactly what you meant! You care more about your career than you do about me.”

“That’s not true,” he said, an intense look in his eyes. “You know that’s not true.”

“Really? That’s not how you’ve been acting lately.”

“It’s not like that-'' he exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I’m just saying, all this bad press is really getting to me. I’m going to lose support, and it’s going to be hard for me to get it back.”

“Oh please, you’re Harry Styles,” you spat. “You’re the golden boy of the music industry. You’ll be fine. Other people, like me, are actually in trouble here. I’m actually at risk of losing something!”

“You can just find another job!” He threw his hands up. “I’m more in the public eye, it affects me more. That’s all there is to it.”

“I can’t believe you!” you were on the verge of tears now, simply from how frustrated and angry you were. “It affects you more? You’ve been dealing with this for years. How do you think it feels for me? I’m new to all of this, and you’re acting like I should know how to handle everything.”

“You knew it was going to be like this when you first started dating me!” he argued. “I told you, and you said you didn’t care.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be this miserable!” You said, the first tear rolling down your face.

“Well if you’re so miserable, maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to move in with me.”

This stopped you in your tracks. Everything the two of you had said so far was angry, and in the heat of the moment. But this felt different. It felt like he had crafted this sentence specifically to hurt you, not to voice his feelings about the situation.

“Fine,” you stood up, grabbing your laptop and charger. You walked right past him, out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” He called.

You didn’t answer. You went into your closet, pulling out the backpack you used to use for traveling back and forth between your house and Harry’s. You began shoving clothes into it, but made sure not to include any of his shirts or hoodies.

“What are you doing?” Harry came into the room, speaking quietly.

“Packing,” you said shortly.

“Don’t do that,” he frowned. “You can’t just leave.”

“Yes I can,” you shot back, still not looking up at him. You zipped up the bag, brushing past him as you went back downstairs.

“Where-” he followed you quickly. “Where are you going?”

At this point, you realized you didn’t have anywhere to go. You didn’t have any close friends; most of your friends were also Harry’s. And you needed to be with people who didn’t remind you of him right now.

“I’m going home,” you said, finally turning to look at him.

“What?” His face fell.

“I’m leaving. I’m going back home. I can’t be here right now.”

“No- you can’t leave!” he said, his face paling. “You can go stay with Sarah and Mitch, or with Jeff and Glenne- or I’ll get you a hotel room or something, but you can’t-”

“Yes I can, Harry,” you cut him off, repeating your sentence from earlier. “I need my family. I need to see my mom. I- I have to go.” You reached for the door handle, but he stopped you, placing his large hand against the door.

“You can call them,” he said, beginning to look desperate. “Or- or we can even fly them out here. But please don’t do this.”

“You’re the one who told me to leave if I was so miserable here,” you said, trying to stop your chin from wobbling. “So that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t mean that! I’m so sorry, I should have never said- I don’t want you to leave. That got way out of hand, I went too far, I’m so sorry.”

“It did. And I can’t be here right now. So let me-” you tried the door again, but he kept it firmly shut.

“Please don't do this,” he whispered. “Please just… stay here tonight. I’ll sleep in the guest room, I won’t bother you if that’s what you need. Or if you really can’t be here, go stay with-”

“No,” you said decisively. “I need to go home. You’re making me feel worse by forcing me to stay here, can’t you see that?”

He dropped his hand away from the door, pressing his lips together. He gave a short nod. “If you have to-” his voice broke, and he quickly cleared his throat before speaking again. “If you really have to leave, then I’ll drive you to the airport. It’s not safe to be out alone this late.”

You shook your head. “I can get a cab, I’m not going to make you-”

“Either I drive you, or you’re not going,” he said firmly. “I need you to be safe.”

You sighed, but nodded, knowing he wouldn’t give in. He was just as stubborn as you were.

-----

You were both silent for the entire drive. Harry didn’t even try to argue with you, which you were grateful for. He seemed to understand that this was what you needed, and he couldn't change your mind.

-----

“Please don’t do this,” he said one final time, watching you walk toward the gate. His heart broke a little more with each step you took.

Even though you wanted to, you didn’t look back. You knew that one look at his sad face would be enough to break you, and you couldn’t let that happen. You needed to go home. You needed your family.

Harry stood at the large window, watching with crossed arms as the plane took off. Once you were officially gone, the first tear slipped down his face.

He made his way out of the busy airport in a daze. He barely registered that he had made it back to his car until he was sitting in the driver’s seat. He reached for the keys, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t manage to start the vehicle. Instead, he dropped his head to rest against the steering wheel, and he cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried this hard. He felt like he couldn’t breathe; there was a huge weight on his chest.

Had he just lost the love of his life?

-----

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually he realized he needed to get home. He needed to figure out what to do.

As soon as he pulled in the driveway, he pulled out his phone and called Mitch.

“Hello?” Came his friend’s tired voice. It was the middle of the night, after all.

“I need you to come over right now,” Harry rushed. “I fucked up, I fucked up so bad and I don’t know- what am i supposed to do? I can’t do this- I need her!”

“Wait, slow down,” Mitch instructed. “What happened?”

“I- just come over right now,” Harry said, hanging up the phone.

-----

When Mitch arrived, he immediately knew something was very wrong. He had never seen Harry look so torn up. His eyes were red, and he was pacing back and forth while running his hands through his hair.

“What happened?” He asked again. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s gone,” Harry said. “She fucking left. She went back home.”

“Is she ok? Did something happen with her family?”

“No, Mitch,” Harry said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “She left because of me. We had a fight- a really bad one. I said some really shitty things, and it got way out of hand, and now she’s gone. I don’t- what am I supposed to do?”

“What did you say? Was it about the articles that came out?”

“Somewhat,” Harry nodded. “She said it was starting to affect her job, and I said it was affecting mine too, and she said she was miserable, and I… told her if she was so miserable she shouldn’t have agreed to move in with me in the first place,” he looked down in shame. He felt terrible as soon as the words left his mouth the first time, but going over the fight with someone else felt ten times worse.

Mitch took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s... pretty bad.”

“Yeah, no shit it’s pretty bad!” Harry snapped. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he groaned, falling back on the couch. “I just- what do I do?” He leaned his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Mitch admitted. “Did she say when she’s coming back?”

“No,” Harry said miserably. “She just said she needed to go home. I tried to get her to stay, I really did. I said I could get her a hotel room, or ask if she could stay with Jeff or something, but she said she needed her family. The worst thing is… she said she needs to go home. I thought she saw this as her home now. I thought she wanted to be here. I thought she was happy here,” his voice broke, and he dropped his head again. “I don’t… I don't think she loves me anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitch shook his head. “Of course she loves you. Do you know how many fights Sarah and I have had? You just have to give her time.”

“Yeah, but did Sarah ever leave the country after you fought?”

“...No,” Mitch sighed. “No, it never got that bad.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, another tear falling down his face.

“She will come back, Harry. She loves you way too much to stay away for good.”

“Not this time,” Harry shook his head. “I think it’s different this time. I honestly don’t know if she’s coming back. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Well, you have to apologize,” Mitch said. “As soon as her plane lands, call her. Tell her what you told me. Tell her how sorry you are and that it got out of hand and you didn’t mean anything you said.” He paused before speaking again. “You didn’t mean it, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Harry snapped again. “I was just… I’ve been in such a terrible mood, and I took it out on her.” He shook his head, whispering, “I’m so stupid.”

“I’m sure it will work out if you just-” Mitch was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Yeah, he’s alright,” he said into the phone. “I’ll explain when I get home." He paused before sighing. "Again? Ok, I’ll be there in a few,” he said before hanging up. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. The baby’s sick and apparently threw up all over her crib. I have to go help Sarah clean up. Just… tell Y/N the truth, okay? Make sure she knows how much you love her.”

Harry nodded, still looking awful as he raised his head. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

-----

Harry started calling you as soon as Mitch left. He knew you were still on the plane, but he wanted you to hear his apologies as soon as you landed.

“Hi love… I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how to explain how terrible I feel. I didn’t mean anything I said. I was completely out of line, and I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I love you so much and I never wanted to hurt you. Please call me when you get this.”

Then he sent a quick text.

Harry: Let me know when you get to your parents’ house so I know you’re safe. Love you.

After that, he knew there wasn’t much else he could do. He wandered back up to his bedroom, looking at all the pictures the two of you had hung on the walls together. He thought back to the day you had moved in, and how happy you had both been. He remembered when he tried to put a nail in the wall, but swung the hammer at the wrong angle and put a hole in the wall instead. He remembered how shocked you had looked, covering your mouth for a second before you both burst out into laughter.

He remembered sitting on the living room floor and eating Chinese food while you played scrabble. Sure, you had ended up dropping lo mein all over the board, but it was worth it.

There were still traces of you all over the house. Your coffee cup still sat in the sink from this morning. Two of the cabinets were still open, because you always forgot to close them. There was a purple scrunchie on your bedside table, and a blue one on the bathroom vanity, and a white one hooked over one of the kitchen cabinet knobs, because “I never know when I’ll need to put my hair up!”

He couldn’t look anywhere in the house without thinking of you. He didn’t want to be in this big empty space all alone. The only way he could think of to make all the painful memories stop was to go to sleep. So, he did just that. He pulled your pillow against his chest, cuddling it like it was you in his arms. There was the faint smell of your conditioner stuck to the fabric, and he buried his face in it to just breathe you in.

The next two days were the worst Harry had ever been through. He didn’t know what to do with himself. You weren’t answering any of his calls, and your voicemail inbox was full. He kept texting, but you weren’t even reading any of them. He paced all day, trying to occupy himself. If he didn’t think of something to keep him busy, he would just keep texting, and he was sure you were pretty annoyed at this point.

But he couldn’t help himself, so he quickly unlocked his phone and started typing.

Harry: I’m so sorry, I can’t even put it into words. Please just let me know when you’re coming home?

He scrolled up through his previous messages, sighing when he realized how pathetic they sounded.

Harry: Please stop ignoring me, I need to talk to you.

Harry: I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you so much, please come home.

Harry: I sound like a broken record, I know, but I just need you to know I feel awful for everything I said.

Harry: I don’t even care how pathetic I sound with all of this, I can’t lose you.

He decided he couldn’t wait anymore. He didn’t even care if you weren’t ready to come back to London yet, but he needed to see you. He stood up from the couch and marched to the front door. He was going to get the next flight out to you.

He whipped the door open, ready to run to his car- and stopped abruptly in his tracks when he was met with your apprehensive face, one hand raised as if you were about to knock.

His eyes went wide, and he froze. He didn’t say anything, and you could hear him breathing heavily. His gaze flickered all around your face, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were really here in front of him.

“Hi,” you said hesitantly, lowering your hand. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he pulled you inside and against him before you could say anything. He held you tightly, arms wrapped against you as if you were going to disappear right before his eyes.

You reached up, putting your arms around his neck as he rocked you gently. His face was buried in your neck, and you could feel his chest shaking.

You just stood there with him, letting him hold you until you could feel his breathing evening out again. After what seemed like hours, he pulled away to look at you. He put his hands on the sides of your face, his eyes flicking between yours desperately as if he still didn’t believe this was real.

“Are you- are you home? Are you staying?” He whispered. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he hadn’t slept since you left. The sight was enough to make guilt stab through your chest.

“I’m staying,” you nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled shakily, pulling you against his chest again. Your head was turned so you could hear his heartbeat, and it still seemed dangerously fast.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured. “I should never have left.”

“It's ok,” he shook his head. “You’re here now.”

“It’s not ok,” you lifted your head to look at him. “I was angry. But I never should have let you think I was leaving you. That was unfair of me. I said awful things to you too, and I didn’t even say I love you before I left.” Your eyes were watering again, but you blinked back the tears.

“I didn’t… I didn't know if you were going to come back,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “I thought I lost you for good.”

You shook your head. “Of course not. I’m here, I promise, and I'm never going to do that again.”

“Good,” he laughed shakily, bringing up a hand to run through his hair. “I was terrified.”

“I know,” you said sadly. “And I feel like such an ass, coming back and just letting you welcome me with open arms. You should probably be really angry with me-”

“I’m not angry,” he quickly shut you down. “I was scared. I was so, so scared. I was about to get on a plane and fly out to you. And of course I’m welcoming you with open arms, I love you. You can always come back to me.”

You nodded, this time letting a tear slip down your face. “I love you too.”

He smiled, wiping the tear with his thumb. “What made you decide to come home?”

“I got there and I expected to feel better. I drove all around town, going past all the spots I used to love. It made me… nostalgic, I guess, but it didn’t comfort me like I expected it to. I went to my parent’s house, and they were great, but all I could think about was the times you’ve visited there with me. I went up to my room, and all I could think about was the time we stayed in there and my bed was way too small so I was basically sleeping on top of you. And how we couldn’t get to sleep because we kept laughing, because your hair was tickling me or I would hit you with my knee. Everything I did made me think of you. And I realized- that town isn’t my home, and neither is that house. This is my home. You are my home.”

His eyes were shining just like yours, and you both reached up to wipe the other’s tears away.

“You’re my home too. And if you want to move closer to your family, we can do that. I don’t care where we live. We can go anywhere in the world, as long as I’m with you.”

#harry styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x you fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #one direction

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nite-shay · 4 years ago

Text

My Neighbor: Hawks - (Takami Keigo / Hawks x Reader

Funny Idea: Your neighbor is hawks.

Winged hero: Hawks. One of the fastest and youngest heroes pro heroes. Number 2 in hero ranks and number 1 in most eligible bachelors in all of Japan.

And drum roll, please! *Drummy sounds* Tada! He is your neighbor! Shocking, I know, right? The title totally doesn't give it away! Nope, not at all!

Anyways, you might be wondering, 'Nite! How did that happen?'

Well.. ya see... that funny story…

Also, sorry for any typo :)

Enjoy!

Notes: reader is 20+. No warning. Mild rating.

****

"Please be fixed. Please be fixed. "You quietly prayed as you hesitantly reached for the handle that leads to the lobby of your apartment building.

The leasing office sent out a mass email earlier, letting all the tenants know that the central air was 'currently out of order' and they are 'working quickly to resolve the issue.' At least they were 'extremely sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and appreciate the patience of all tenants.'

They also explained how per the lease agreements, no discounts would be provided for maintenance issues and that the full rent would still be due.

I really need to move…

It just had to go out right smack dab in the middle of summer. And on one of the hottest days on record, no less!

You took a deep breath and pushed open the door into what could only be described as a magma cavern. Nope, you weren't on a tropical island; this was just the lobby. Damn, if it was this hot here, you can't imagine what your apartment must feel like.

You trudged your way through the muggy lobby grabbing your mail on your way over to the stairwell. By the time you made up to the very top floor, you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. Honestly, it looked like you just took a dip in a pool. Your clothes clung to every part of your sticky, overheating body. Hell, you were just happy you didn't have a heat stroke by the time you reached your front door.

You prayed your apartment would be cooler.

It wasn't!

It was giving the stairwell a run for its money.

Oh, hell no... NOPE! Not dealing with this.

You marched through the doorway, making sure to lock the door behind you, not like it would make much of a difference. You didn't see or hear anyone on the trip up or in the hallways. No doubt the other residences did the smart thing and retreated for someplace much cooler. You tossed the stack of mail on your end table without checking it. You'd deal with it later. More than likely, the postal carrier had mixed them up again with the tenant next door.... again...

Later problem for later me! Cool now!

You barely made it to your living room before you started peeling your sweat-soaked clothes off. Thankfully you lived alone, so you didn't have to worry about shocking anyone as you made your way to your bedroom. Tossed your clothes in the hamper before slipping into the thinnest shorts and tank top you could find. You would have said to hell with clothes in general at this point, but if you were going to cool this place off, you need to get some airflow in this place asap. That means windows and doors need to be open.

And for the next hour, that's what you did. Every window you had was open as far as they would go, along with the sliding glass door that led to your balcony. The breeze that flowed through your home was still hot and muggy, but it was then nothing. You also gather any and every fan you had, even the pitiful little desk fan that sounded like it was on its last leg. If it ocellated or moved air in any way, shape, or form, that bitch was on high!

It took a little bit, but it felt like you could breathe as the temperature started to drop. Of course, by then, you were on the verge of dehydration and also contemplated, more than once, curling up in your fridge until that accursed flaming ball of gas in the sky went down.

But you had food in there, and you can't waste food. Damn it.

Speaking of food...

You enjoyed a large bowl of ice cream and about three glasses of water. You reveled in the coolness of the sweet treat in your stomach, which gave you motivation for your next venture.

A nice cool shower.

You let the cool water flow over your whole body for what seemed like forever. Letting it wash away the stress, heat, and sweat of the day right down the drain. By the time you were done, your fingers were pruney, and the sun had descended entirely.

Damn, you were tired.

You lazily dried yourself and considered just going to bed as you were. You were on the 15th floor of your apartment building, so it wasn't like you had to worry about anyone peeking in your window. But you still didn't feel comfortable sleeping naked with your windows opened, and you really didn't want to close them.

After a short debate, you settled on a thin tank, and underwear was a good compromise.

Your body felt sluggish as you made your track to your bedroom. It was still relatively early, but between your job and the heat, you were completely and utterly wiped.

Bed... Sleep...

You showed your bed no mercy as you tore the covers off the nicely made bed and tossed them across the room. Then with no grace whatsoever, you let yourself collapse into the cool embrace of your mattress. Between the comfort of your bed and the white-nose of the fans, it didn't take long for drifted off to sleep.

***Later that night

The summer night air was hot and humid as the Wing hero: Hawks, flew high above the city. Even at the higher altitude, the air was so thick, it felt like he was swimming in a dense swamp rather than soaring through the sky. His whole body felt sore and heavy, so much so that he was actually an effort to keep himself afloat.

Damn, that villain really did a number on me. One more hit, and my goose would have been cooked.

The shift today had been long and hard, thanks to a tough group of villains that left him banged up and exhausted. He ended up having to get patched up at a hospital. The doc that ended up putting him back together tried to get him to stay, but he managed to talk him into agreeing on releasing him. Though, he would have flown the coupe either way. He couldn't stand hospitals or clinics. Not that there was anything wrong with those places. They just reminded him too much of the commission. Orderly. Sterile. Functional.

Which is nice for a hospital, not for life. He has almost 20 years of experience with it to make him an expert on that subject.

Shit got old quick….

Though honestly, it wasn't like his place was much better. It was a simple bed, one bath apartment. Top floor, of course, with a balcony that looked over the inconspicuous neighborhood it was built in. Now being the number two hero, you'd think he makes enough to live somewhere a bit more… well, expensive. But while he did live the high life, it was nice to have a place he could go and just be Keigo, not Hawks.

And speaking of, he could see his balcony coming into view.

He swooped down over the rallying, stumbling a bit in the landing. It was pitch black, and his eyes felt as heavy as his body. Thankfully, though, he didn't fallout then there. Camping wasn't his thing, and while the balcony was rather spacious, his bed sounded much more comfortable.

Ahh, home sweet home.

That's weird. Did I forget to lock the door again?

He shrugged, not giving it much thought. He'd been in a hurry this morning, getting called in for an emergency issue downtown. And it wasn't like the first time he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him. Plus, he lived on the top floor; it's not like he had to worry about people just walking in off the streets.

Lot easier targets than his humble abode.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Damn, it was hot. He must have forgotten to turn the AC on this morning. The apartment was hot and muggy, but he honestly couldn't have cared less. An oven sounded like a good place to take a nap at this point. His body started moving on its own towards the bedroom, stripping out of his hero costume along the way.

Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep.

His mind chanted over and over, clothes would be tomorrow's problem. He didn't even bother turning on any lights as he maneuvered through the living room and down the hallway. He'd lived there for over a year, so he knew the layout like the back of his hand.

By the time he made it to his bed, he was down to only his boxers. He was about to pull those down, too, but the moment his legs came in contact with the mattress, it was like whatever energy was left was drained out of him.

He sighed and let his body fall forward across the bed that would give him the sweet relief he so desperately needed.

Thump!

Huh? Why did his mattress feel all lumpy?

A loud shriek jolted him back to life long enough to realize that he was not alone. That the lumps in his bed weren't his covers, but a body.

There was a person in bed.

He shifted his weight, forcing himself up as the body under him started to trash and yell.

"Huh? What are you doing in my-" He managed to murmur out before a sharp pain to the side of his head finally did him in, and his mind gave in to the darkness of unconsciousness.

********

Your dreams were a God sent.

You were in a winter wonderland. Cool snowflakes danced all around. A cool breeze would blow every now again. It was like you could hear the clinking sound of ice hitting the window. Oh, what was that? The sound of heavy snow falling from the tree limbs? How wonderful!

So wonderful. So peaceful. So cool.

But everything changed when you were jolted awake by something pinning you to your bed. Whatever it was, was large, heavy, and sweaty.

You shrieked as you realized it was a person! There was a person on top of you! You trashed about trying to push the weight off of you, but you couldn't seem to get them off you. You screamed louder and struggled harder until their weight shifted.

"Huh?" The voice above you was drowsy sounding definitely that of an adult male. Your panic doubled as he shifted again, giving you a little more wiggle room. You still couldn't get free, but you took the opportunity to reach for something, anything to defend yourself with. Like hell, you were going down without a fight! Finally, you managed to wrap your fingers around something large on your bedside table. "What are you doing in my-?" You didn't let your attacker finish as you bashed the lamp into the side of his head.

He let out a loud 'off' as he rolled off the bed, giving you enough time to scrabble to the opposite side of the bedroom, hitting the lights.

Were those....wings?

Peaking over the side of the bed was, in fact, crimson feathers.

Who or what the fuck is that?

*******

Hawk's head pounded as he slowly stirred.

Shit, did he get drunk last night?

Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing from the light flooding the room along the memories of the night before. That's weird; he didn't remember turning on any lights.

Was it morning already?

He went to stretch his sore, aching body but quickly realized he couldn't.

He glanced down at himself and saw that yeap he was in his boxers and tied- wait.... were those power cord and... belts?

He blinked. What the hell? His upper body was bound in what looked to be a mix of various power cords and belts. Did someone break into his place and attack him?

Who in their right mind would break into his house? He was a hero! One of the top in the country!

He sighed as he tested the 'ropes.' Well, if this was a robbery, it was poorly planned, to put it mildly. The assailant left his wings completely free, and the binding was so poorly tied that he could slip right, with little effort.

A squeak of a floorboard caused his head to jerk up and glare at his attacker. A person carefully stepped into his view. And well, of all the things he'd been prepared for... you weren't it. And certainly not you, in nothing but your underwear, a tank top, and wielding a lamp like it was a baseball bat.

Well... this is... unexpected.

He could only stare at you in confusion that years of training couldn't even stop. Huh? You didn't look like a villain, much less a burglar. Honestly, you didn't look like a fighter at all.

If you weren't a villain, then...

He mentally groaned.

Great. You were a fan... and a crazy one at that.

Over his career, he's had a few run-ins with crazy or obsessed fans of his. He couldn't count the number of times he's had to change his phone number or move his safe house. Even with the commission on his side, his info still got out!

Maybe they should start hiring them instead...

Well... at least you were easy on the eyes. He thought as he gave you a once over. Your hair was a mess, and was that a bit of drool on your chin?

Yeap, just another crazy yet fairly active fan.

"Hey there." He greeted you with a warm smile, causing you to jump. He needed to play this out some. Escaping wouldn't be a problem, and he already had a few feathers at the ready in case you tried something. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. As irritated as he was at you, he didn't want to hurt you. You weren't a villain, just... confused. "It's not every day, I wake up to beauty like you. How about you untie me so I can introduce myself properly."

He gave you a charming smile as he watched your face go from nervous to confused and then to anger.

"L-Like, hell, I'm telling you my name after what you did!" You took a step forward and raise your weapon up slightly higher, ready to strike. "And don't flirt with me, you creep!"

Hmm, that usually works.

"My bad. I didn't mean to offend you. If you untie me, I'm sure I can figure out a few ways to make up for it." He winked, keeping his smile friendly and inviting. He needed to figure a way out of this that didn’t involve him hurting you or land him on every news station in the country.

*****

"You're seriously fucked up in the head, you know that! I am not untying you!" You yelled as a blush slowly crept over your cheeks. You were shocked at the stones this guy had! He broke into your home and attacked you while you were asleep. And now he was flirting with you?! Like this, a date or something!

Something in his eyes flashes for a split second, and you saw one of his wings twitch.

Why did he keep looking at you like that?

"D-Don't try anything! The police are on their way!" At least you hoped they were. You hadn't been able to call them, cause stupid you forgot to put your phone to charge when you got home. It was completely dead. You could only hope one of your neighbors who stayed had neared the commotion and called for help.

"Police?" His golden bird-like eyes went wide for a moment. Did he really think you wouldn't call for help?

"Yes, the police! You broke into my home and attacked me in my sleep! What did you just expect me to call for a parade?!"

"Wait…" You could see the gears turning in his head as he glanced around your room. His eyes suddenly went wide.

"So… you're not one of my fans?"

"Fan? WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE A FAN OF A PSYCHO LIKE YOU!?!"

"Wait! This is just a misunderstanding!"

"How the hell is breaking into someone's home, attacking them in their bed in the middle of the night a 'misunderstanding'?"

"Look, all I remember is flying home. Walking through my…" The man trailed off. "Wait, what address is this?"

"Like I'd give my address to a villain?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"I'm already here like it's really going to make a difference?" He growled before giving you a glare. You watched as his wings poofed up a bit. "Also, watch the insults. I'm a hero, not a villain."

"Likely story." You deadpanned. "You could at least come up with something more believable than that..."

"W-wait... You don't recognize me?" You gave him a once over. "Take a really good look at me." His wings stretched out a bit. "Anything thing ring a bell?" You just stared at him blankly. Granted, he was good looking, and if he wasn't a criminal, he could easily be on the cover of a magazine. "Seriously?"

"Pretty convenient of you to pick the home of someone who doesn't follow heroes, huh?"

"More like, inconvenient. If you did, you'd recognize me in a heartbeat." He sighed. "Look, just check my pants pocket. You'll find my credentials."

"How do I know this isn't just a trick? Or maybe they're fake."

"It's not a trick! Look, if you're that worried, just get your phone and google me. I'm the wing hero: Hawks." Huh? Why would he suggest that? He wouldn't know about your phone... so why would he tell you to get it? You could call for help. That should be the last thing he wants. You pondered for a moment.

****

"Fine, I'll check. But this better not be a trick," You paused. "cause if it is, I got another lamp with your name on it!" He watched as you gradually made your way towards his discarded clothes. While you searched for his wallet, he glanced over to the shattered remains of what he assumed was your first weapon.

Well, that explains the small blood trail on the side of his head and his headache.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you found it. You made your way back to him as he watches you juggle, keeping your on him, holding the lamp, and reading his ID.

"Hero license, Hero: Hawks, Name: Takami Keigo." You mumbled as your eyes darted between the ID's picture and himself. He could still see the doubt in your eyes. Damn, if this didn't work, he was going to have to free himself. Hopefully, he'd be quick enough to do that and subdue you without hurting you much. "Wait… Takami… Keigo.." Your eyes went wide, and he had to admit, his name sounded a little too good coming from you. "Wait! That's the name on the mail that keeps getting put in my box!" A look of realization and shock washes over you. "You're my neighbor!"

"Ah, so you're the one that's been slipping my mail under my door!" He couldn't help but smile and sigh internally. Finally, somethings going right! " Nice to finally meet you! Sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce myself before now. Work keeps me pretty busy."

"You're a hero… and you're my neighbor…." Your eyes were wide as you stared at him.

"Looks that way."

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BREAK INTO MY HOME!"

"It was an accident! I swear! I was exhausted and just flew to the wrong balcony. Honest. The glass door was open, and I didn't even realize I was in the wrong place." He tried to reason with you.

"Didn't you think it was a little strange that the furniture wasn't yours, or how about the fact that I was IN the bed?"

"Like I said, I was exhausted." He just shrugged before mumbling. "And well, let's just say you wouldn't be the first time a fan found where I lived and tried to surprise me in bed."

".... so you thought I was some psycho who broke into your home just to try and sleep with you…" You glared at him, clearly annoyed. "You realize I'm still holding a weapon right now, and remember..." You gestured with the lamp. "I gotta pretty mean swing..."

"Easy there, Chickadee. I'm joking. And I wouldn't call you psycho just... A little touched in the head." That earned him a glare that made him chuckle. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"You like pissing people off, don't you?"

"I've been known to ruffle some feathers from time to time."

"Look," You sighed as you tried to process everything that just happened. "This is just... too much..." You sat the lamp down finally. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"No worries. This one on me." He made a move to stand.

"Oh, here, let me..."

"All good, I got it." He stood up, letting the restraints fall off of him like they weren't even there, let alone tied.

"H-how did y-you?"

"Oh, yeah. Word of advice, ya might wanna work on knots." He chuckled as he stretched.

"Y-You could have gotten free at any time… why didn't you?"

"Like I said, I'm a hero." He walked forward while you moved to the side, eyes still wide-eyed." If I'd freed myself before you realized who I was, you would have freaked out. Honestly, the last thing I want is for you to get hurt or you to go screaming down the hallway in your underwear." He informed you as your face turned beet red, and you then tried to pull your shirt down. He laughed at the poor attempt to hide. "Well then, gotta say this would make a hell of a story, but I'd really appreciate it if we kept this between us." He could help but tease you more. You looked so damn cute when you're flustered. "Not to brag or anything, but I'm a pretty well-known hero and have a reputation to uphold." He sent out a few of his feathers to help gather his gear while he talked to you. You were so entranced watching his feathers work that he had to repeat himself again.

"I-I-I… Yes!" Your eye finally snapped back into focus on him. "Of course! Just between us!"

"Great! Glad that's settled." He took a step towards you and held out his hand. You finally got the message and handed his wallet back to him. "My superiors and PR would have my tail feathers if this got out." He ginned. "Well, would you look at the time!" He grinned while making his way to the sliding glass door and out to the balcony, his floating clothes trailing behind him. "Best be on my way. I have an early shift in the morning. Sweet dream angle." And with that, he stepped out to the balcony and fluttered over to his.

Damn, what a night!

*****

Extra:

The next morning.

You woke up late, groggy and sweaty. The AC was still out, and your apartment was slowly heating up.

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, put on shorts, and headed to the kitchen.

Last night was a hell of a night.

Your neighbor is a hero...

What are the odds of that?

You reached up into your cabinet and pulled down your favorite cereal.

Whatever, he can't be that good if he made that big of a mistake, right?

You quickly made your breakfast and headed for your balcony. There was a slight breeze blowing that morning, making it almost bearable outside.

Almost...

Huh? What's that?

There was a large brown bag sitting on your patio table.

That wasn't there before...

You sat your bowl down and picked it up. Whatever it was, it was a decent size and heavy. You opened the bag, and the first thing you found was a note.

'Sorry again about last night. Here's a little gift for you to make up for it.

Bet you could do some real damage with this one. Batter up, chickadee!

Your neighbor,

-Hawks'

You reached further into the bag and pulled out... a lamp?

It was made out of wood and metal, making the damn thing large and pretty heavy. It was well made and couldn't have been cheap! You pulled it further out of the back, and when you saw the shape of the body, you couldn't help it: you busted out laughing. The damn thing was in the shape of a roaster!

Your neighbor... is a hero... and a strange one at that...

********

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

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someguynamedstevewrites · 5 years ago

Text

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

------------

When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time. They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say. Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too. In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life. Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people. It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people. I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well. They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together. But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person. I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts. Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost. Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive? Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

------------

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

------------

Yes, I hurt its feelings. Yes, it was insensitive. Yes, I am sorry. But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then. As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy. It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows. It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word. I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t. Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”? No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing. I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display. But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones. Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me. (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!) I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio. I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini. Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work. It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to! Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to. As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day. Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it. (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated. First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!” Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner. Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared. I look around and all I see is more and more pink. From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing. Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley? They were laughing like him. And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

------------

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint? (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not. Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again. Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone. I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them. For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval. But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted. If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it. Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much. (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away. They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong. I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues. They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up. This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade. It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment. Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD. And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed. In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

------------

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink. Like EVERYTHING. The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow. I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card. I came home and got to making dinner. While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me. My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe. To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade. It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me. It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath. It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there. Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around. If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites. There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay. Pull up a chair! It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time. I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was. Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me. It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this. I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks. Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog. Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person. (Did it again! I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place. Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that. I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do. It just kind of happens without thinking about it. The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing. It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers. (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

------------

Now where was I? Oh yeah, our talk. I think I remember the most important bits of it. It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me. I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah! Pretty amazing what you did with the place! I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile. I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed. Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink. If it stays like this, they might kick me out. And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment. The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared. “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection. Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend. Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?” (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.) “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon. It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there. Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.” They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up. I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them. Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers. I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon. The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over. Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea. Oh well. No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

#my roommate is an apparition #Tulpa #fanfiction #reddpenn #Pink Panther

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pl-panda · 4 years ago

Text

The vines that bind us - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

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“I trust you to act responsibly. And as a Guardian, you probably should start learning magic anyway.”

“Let’s get started then. Please tell me I can curse Lie-la!”

“Mari!”

“Just kidding, alright?” She smiled innocently and Tikki shook her head.

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Somewhere into the evening, Chloe called her to inform her that she was on her way back and she shouldn’t worry. When the blonde entered the room… it was a mess, using the word loosely. The walls were in all colors of the rainbow sans their original one. The room seemed to be double its size and Chloe was pretty sure her bed just got a fourth dimension added to it. There was also that the plants seemed to have taken over one corner and created their own kingdom. She could even see them raising a flag with Marigold Design and creations logo on it.

“Figures! I leave you for one afternoon…!” Chloe said with disdain while trying to step over what looked almost like a black hole.

“Chlo? Is that you?” Mari’s voice came from two and a half directions at the same time. The blonde had no idea how was it even possible.

“Isley! Get your pretty ass here so I can properly scold you!”

“Um… Kinda tied at the moment,” came an answer.

“I don’t want to hear it. I had a long day of scheming and I need my beauty sleep.” Chloe complained. “Get me my bed fixed at least.”

“Oh fine! Tikki! Spots on!” There was a pink light from two separate directions and suddenly Ladybug jumped out of the small hole in the ground. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

After the wave of shining bugs settled and the room was back to normal Mari detransformed and smiled apologetically at Chloe. “Sorry. Got carried away with the new book.”

“Picasso’s guide to architecture and interior design?” Chloe deadpanned.

“Nope,” The bluenette smiled and pulled a rather hefty tome from her bed to show it to her friend. “Someone dropped it inside our room when we were out. Tikki deemed it safe and taught me the basics.”

“I think you will need remedial lessons, given how our room looked. What exactly was the purpose of making my bed four-dimensional?”

“I might have tried to expand the room a bit, but I miscalculated a tiny bit. There is a surprising amount of math in magic.”

“Whatever. I would tell you how my date went, but I’m utterly exhausted now.” Chloe teased her friend. She expected the girl to beg her for the details. Instead, Mari pointed her arm at the bed.

“Pea and feather go along. Make this bed out of stone.” Her iridescent green and blue eyes flashed for a moment… and nothing happened. Chloe smiled triumphantly and tried to jump onto her bed, only to hit the cover hard. While on the outside, the bed looked like nothing changed, in reality, it was hard as the floor. Funnily enough, she could easily slip under the cover, but it still felt like lying on the floor with sheets of paper sewn together as a blanket.

“You’re mean!” She cried. “I’m now commandeering your bed.” Before Mari even understood what Chloe meant, the girl jumped under her covers and snuggled on one side. There was still enough space for Mari to join if she was brave enough.

“Ugh! That’s my bed!”

“Exactly. You can take mine if you like it enough to modify it.”

“Tikki!” Mari cried, hoping that at least the Kwami would support her.

“Nope. You’re the one that made the bed so now you must sleep in it.”

“Um…” Mari tried to look in the book for a counterspell, but in the end, she just pointed her hand on the bed. “Princes found her prince at last. Take the curse and…” she tried to quickly find some rhyme. “break the glass? Ups…”

The window suddenly exploded, but the bed glowed, and after checking it was okay she picked Chloe to move her over. Except it totally didn’t work and the blonde instead pulled her into the comfortable bed. The tired Mari was too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to care. She just cuddled closer to her adopted sister for some comfort. And heat since there was now a hole instead of the window and it was February.

----------------

The next morning Mari and Chloe woke up in a similar mess to the day before. And once again they were clothed.

“Ugh… I should probably calm down on magic.” Mari stretched herself a bit to get ready. She quickly changed into the fresh version of her yesterday’s outfit and helped Chloe gather herself a new ‘something’ for the day’s work. Apparently, for the next step of her scheme, she needed to look like a perfect Parisian princess. Something about Media attention. Mari was too busy with her tablet to care.

She received a mail at 6 am that there was a slight change in the time of the press conference so she needed to forward it to the conference center before she even got to work. While eating breakfast she checked over the summary reaction about the public statement and emotions that accompanied the fallout. Predictably, the pictures served as a nice distraction, but also rallied the citizens behind the company. They treated it as someone making fun of the suffering company and flamed the Lila girl, even though the company said that she was also a victim. Well, there was a footnote about it.

“You know you don’t need to put so much work into it?” Chloe asked while eating her croissant.

“I do. But if I can’t manage it now, how am I supposed to one day make MDC as big of a brand as Gabriel?”

“By not working yourself into a coffin?”

“Well… Wait a moment.” Mari was interrupted when her phone ringed. She quickly picked the call and her smile was replaced with a frown. “I understand. I will be there soon. Please keep an eye on him and tell the security not to let any more paparazzi.” she hanged up.

“Trouble?” Chloe asked with a grin.

“I’m afraid to ask…”

“Damian is doing an errand for me. He is such a good sidekick.” The blonde smiled. Mari did not answer but urged her best friend to move on faster.

Since they stayed in their room for breakfast, neither girl wanting to deal with their moronic class longer than needed, they got down just in time… to see the bus leaving them in front of the hotel.

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe raised her hand. “We are in Gotham. Does that… that… Has she got any idea how dangerous is it?!”

“Said the girl that taunted the Riddler.” Mari deadpanned.

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” The blonde answered confidently.

“Anyway… we could call a taxi.” Chloe sneered at the idea, so Mari offered something else. “I could also test that portal spell…”

“Taxi!” The girl shouted. Mari just shook her head and pulled the mobile phone. After less than five minutes Chas Chandler rolled next to them in his cab.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He smiled.

“Nice seeing you sir.” Mari greeted him before pushing Chloe in the back seat and joining her.

“To the Wayne tower, please. I would appreciate it if you could get us there fast. I need to get my boss to do his work.” She hoped they would arrive before the class to see their faces.

Sadly, the cab got stuck in the traffic and it took them over an hour to arrive. When Mari entered the lobby, she was angry enough to turn into a ‘stern assistant’ mode. Not a nice place to be if you are on her way. She stormed past the security while flashing her badge. They didn’t dare to try to stop her.

“Get McKinsley to HR. And by the time I arrive I want Lila Rossi and Alya Cessaire to be sitting there!” The second one was directed to the receptionist, who nodded. So far everyone loved Mari, even in her bad mood. It didn’t stop them from being terrified.

Both she and Chloe got into the elevator. When the doors closed, the blonde grinned.

“I love it when you finally show your Gothamite side.”

She got no response from the angry Mari, but through the ride, her smirk did not disappear through the ride. Once they separated, the bluenette continued alone. Angry did not give her emotions justice. She was furious.

Once she finally got on the floor, she stormed through the corridors right to the head of the department’s office. Luckily for everyone, Lila and Alya were already there.

“Who do you think…” Alya started only to be silenced by a death stare from Mari. For the first time in her life, she realized that the bluenette was someone not to be trifled with.

“Apparently, since this morning I’m your superior.” Mari deadpanned. “Funny thing. I would probably only learn about this from your bragging later on if you didn’t decide, in all your stupidity, to write yourself reference in my name.” It was clear that she did not find it funny.

“Puh-lease. You bullied Lila since she came. I thought that it was only fair that you’ve repaid her somehow.” Alya babbled, already forgetting her earlier fear.

“So you take full responsibility for forging both your resume?” Mari asked with a raised eyebrow, wanting to have it said out loud for the record. Especially since Madame McKinsley was standing in the entrance.

“Of course. It was totally unfair that such a bully got all the privileges while hard-working Lila had nothing.”

The Head of the Human Resources department sent Mari a tired look that seemed to mean ‘is she for real?’ She was a woman in her thirties with neatly cut black hair and skin in the color of dark chocolate by the name Mrs. Alicia Lynch

“Oh… In that case, you’re disciplinarily fired.”

“What?!” Alya screamed.

“And I will make sure this incident finds itself into your acts,” Alicia said with a frown.

“You can’t…!” Alya was once more cut off, this time by madame McKinsley.

“They can. And you’re lucky that we are not pressing charges for attempted sabotage.”

“The security will show you out. The teacher and your guardians will be informed. Since the hotel is paid by Wayne Enterprise for the members of the interns’ program, you will need to find alternative accommodations or simply return to Paris. I’ll leave this to the teacher and parents to resolve.”

“But… But…” Alya wanted to argue. All blood left her face and she seemed close to passing out. A man in a suit, carrying the security badge helped her out of the chair and led her outside.

“Now about you.” Mari turned her gaze toward Lila, who so far was busy checking on her nails.

“Oh! This is ridiculous! I had nothing to do with it. I’m a victim too!”

Marigold turned to McKinsley, who looked dejected.

“We can’t fire her. She was hired for the six months period.”

“Mutual agreement?” Mari asked. She’s been researching ways to dissolve her contract faster. Sadly, she already knew the answer.

“Two months waiting period. Standard to ensure she doesn’t use any of her knowledge against us.” For Mari, it was a year when she couldn’t work for any other company. Luckily, running her own business was still on the table, as long as she stuck to restrictions.

A different idea formed in Blunette’s head. She smirked slightly. “Well, Miss Rossi, looks like you’re in luck. Welcome to Wayne Enterprises. I hope you didn’t have any great ideas.”

Lila gulped. “Was that a threat?”

“No. If I threatened you, you would know. You and your little attack dog forgot that this is not Paris. This is Gotham. Here, we play by my rules.” With that she spun around and left, typing on her tablet. Just before the doors closed, she tossed another sentence that drove the nail deeper. “And this time, there is no minion to do it for you.”

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Marigold didn’t calm down before reaching the top floor. Her emotions subsided a bit, but she was still on edge.

“Ugh! How dare those stupid witches to try to use my name to sign their references! And that idiot who somehow believed them. He will definitely not get any bonus this month. Or next. At least they had enough common sense to call me. Except after the fact!” She was pacing in front of her desk.

Tikki peaked from the inner pocket of her jacket. “At least you could do something about it!” She cheered.

“True. I got rid of one trouble. Without her, I will have a chance for some peace…” She barely finished the sentence when there was a crash in the room next door. Immediately, she rushed inside to check. Turns out her boss for some reason decided to move the desk. He ended up knocking the computer over.

“Ehm.” She faux-coughed to get his attention.

“Oh! Um… I was just…” Tim tried to find some excuse.

“Trying to open the secret stash of coffee?”

“How do you…” he started to ask flabbergasted, but she interrupted him once more.

“I studied the schematics. And Sarah left me a note about it.” A smirk ghosted her stern face.

“Damn! Now I will need another hiding place.” Tim gathered himself from the ground. “Wait! You moved the desk by yourself?”

“Do I look that strong to you?” She asked, her face unmoving. Just because she came to hate liars didn’t mean she didn’t know how to bend the truth a little. And technically, she just avoided answering altogether.

“Whatever. You must’ve ordered the repair crew to move it then. I want my coffee.” He said pouting.

“Sir. I’m supposed to help you manage your time better. I am not simply your secretary.” Marigold informed him firmly. She checked with both Chloe and Nathalie what her responsibilities included.

“But you made that divine brew on Monday!”

“That was a gift for my first day of work.” Plus I had no idea what I was doing.

“But…”

“Enough buts for today. You have a meeting with Mr. Fox about the Friday presentation in half-an-hour. Did you familiarize yourself with the content of the email he sent you?”

“Ah! Of course, I did. I totally didn’t spend my night…”

“Then I would appreciate it if you spent the next half-an-hour on doing so.”

“B…” He didn’t even finish when her glare stopped him. She could pull Batstare better than the original.

“If you act like a proper CEO, I might think about making you some of my ‘divine brew’ as a reward.” She suggested and closed the door, leaving him to his own device. She had several calls to make and set other meetings

---------

It was two hours later when angry Caline Bustier demanded a meeting with her. Mari didn’t even think before redirecting her to HR. The teacher was supposed to be the chaperone of the group and look after them after work. She was also directly responsible for all of their actions. She was very displeased that now she had to take care of Alya for eight hours a day that used to be free time for her. So of course, she blamed everything on Marinette. This time, it backfired. She had to quickly give up any accusations before she ended up in an even worse situation.

Luckily, after that little incident, the day passed without any more surprises. She had half-a-mind to search the town for her mother in the evening. Since she was hired, she was now technically independent of the class. Chloe had a slip from her father that allowed her to basically ignore the teacher. The blonde convinced Mari that mindless wandering the city would only get her robbed. Or at least involved in attempted robbery since she could easily kick ass if she only wanted. Instead, Mari spent the afternoon shopping for materials and working on a new outfit for uncle Jagged that he ordered for his visit to Gotham in a month or so.

She also made a quick call to Paris to discuss things with her hire. The girl informed her that she would happily run the store a little longer. Mari promised to even consider to hire her permanently if she did well.

Chloe had another date scheming meeting with Damian Wayne. At this point, it was unclear what their relationship was. Good thing: neither did the tabloids. Mari promised to the blonde to hold back on the search for her mom until Friday afternoon. She also promised to take both Adrien and Chloe with her when she visited a contact in the local club. They would celebrate her getting a job and the first week over.

All would be great. If she didn’t spot a vigilante on the rooftop next to her (now fixed) window. Even then, it was Gotham. The bats were rather common at this point. It wasn’t like when she left and they were only starting. Batman was still mostly a myth back then, even after six years of work. Except this vigilante was clearly staking her room specifically. he even had binoculars that she was sure had night vision in them.

She opened the window and picked a pencil. With deadly precision she tossed it. The wooden tool sailed through the air until it hit the binoculars and broke one side of them. She huffed and closed the window before pulling the curtains closed. How rude.

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#Mother!Ivy #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #batman #dc #MLB #mlb x dc #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #BAMF Marinette #redeemed!chloe #Good!Adrien Agreste #maribat au

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years ago

Note

Okay so hear me out, HELLO FIRST OF ALL :), I was reading your list of "normal things Hisoka does" and smiled at "hisoka sitting down with investment portfolio manager and talking about his financial goals". I was like "wow lucky lady who gets to sit in front of his fine self" but then I was also like "...what if they get NSFW at work!?":$ Sooooo if you don't mind (and want to), can I ask for an imagine of that with Hisoka (or Illumi he can get it too lol) Thank you

LET ME JUST LET YOU KNOW THAT I AM ASHAMED OF THIS. Man this is so dirty. Also it’s a tiny bit cracky on top of being NSFW. Also just assume at some point Hisoka put on a condom. Anyway here you go.

You sipped the last of your coffee, tapping your foot impatiently under the desk as you watched the clock on the bottom right corner of your office computer.

Late. Your client was late.

And as a result, you were now almost twenty minutes into your already too short lunch break, which you usually took starting 11:30am, just so that you could cover phone calls during the noon hours when everyone else would leave the office.

How could someone be late when it comes to talking about money? Didn’t they care?

Suddenly, you heard a sharp knock on your door, as if the very heavens were telling you to get over yourself. Hastily setting your mug down, and quickly closing out of Facelook, you fixed your customer service smile back onto your face and sat up straight in your chair, the picture of professionalism. You wouldn’t let whatever sloppy everyman who came in ruin your dedication to your craft.

Before you could even say ‘Come on in!’, a tall, somehow attractively disheveled-looking young man burst into the room, pausing briefly as he looked around, then giving you a half-smile that was almost inappropriately seductive. Or maybe you were just imagining it.

“Sorry that I’m late.” He said with a soft chuckle, adjusting his loose tie and smoothing out his slightly tight suit jacket as he sat down in the chair across from you, without asking your permission.

You faltered just a little bit before standing up and reaching out your hand to shake his, and introducing yourself as his new financial advisor.

“Mr. M-Morow, is it?” You said, warmth settling in your cheeks as you looked him in the eyes. It was a warm summer day, but just a few hours ago the room had been freezing. His eyes were golden, narrow and heavy-lidded which gave him the impression of studying you a little too closely, which you realized was making you a little bit uncomfortable. He nodded slowly, still smiling all the while, his legs crossed and leaning forward. He was waiting for you to speak.

While you opened up his portfolio and took a look at his rudimentary profile, all you could think of was how the clearly-borrowed, ill-fitting navy suit outlined his broad shoulders, narrow waist and obviously muscular arms. You gulped slightly focusing on the screen before you.

“I-It looks like you have never made any investments before,” you said, your voice higher than usual. You silently berated yourself in your head; this was so embarrassing. You hoped your pits weren’t sweating through your blouse with how warm it was in the room. You really needed to fix the AC the moment this meeting was done.

He didn’t respond, so you looked back at him for a nonverbal response, and he was still watching you carefully, now leaned in even further, his chin resting in his hand.

This was too much. Your heart started to pound, and you started talking loudly to distract yourself.

“Do you own a mortgage or have a car that you’re leasing currently?” You asked.

“Nope,” he said, curtly.

“Okay, uh.. Do you have any overseas investments?” You followed up now, hoping for a reasonable response you could work with.

“None at all,” he almost sang.

You turned to him again, your concern about his financial profile now outweighing your concern about how you were going to keep your panties dry during this meeting. You hated when people made your job difficult for you.

“What made you interested in investing now?” You asked, as politely as possible. While he was 28 years old based on his application, which was younger than many people who came into your office, he seemed disinterested himself in this meeting, his gaze still resting comfortably on you.

“I recently came into a large sum of money.”

“Inheritance?” You asked, preparing to give condolences to a likely deceased family member.

“Prize money,” he leaned back in his chair, relaxed and crossing his arms over his chest. A power pose. “To be fair, I’ve been winning the same amount every year, but it’s been building up.”

“What do you do for a living?” You clarified. He hadn’t written anything in the application in the occupation section, you had noticed earlier.

“Why, fight, of course,” he said, with another mischievous grin.

You’d worked with people who were boxers or other types of athletes before, but for some reason, you had the impression that what he was referring to was different. The most important question to ask in his case was what he would do when he was no longer able to fight. That was the issue that plagued a lot of these types of clients.

When you asked him this very question, he laughed as if it were the most ridiculous thing to ask in the world. You might as well have told him to prepare for when he grew a third eyeball in the middle of his head. But then he added, “You do raise a good point, which is the very reason why I’m here today, on a friend’s recommendation.”

You gave him an odd look again, and turned back to your computer, still confused at his amusement from earlier. Then you took a quick look at his stated monetary assets and paled.

200 million Jenny a year? And no investments? This man was a financial disaster.

“Would it be alright if I make a suggestion?” You started, whipping around in your chair to face him, only to find that he had moved almost imperceptibly to look over your shoulder at the computer.

You almost jumped, your heart beating out of your chest.

“... Mr. Morow?” You started, looking up at him from where you were seated.

“Oh, am I too close?” He said, now with a low, sultry voice as he rested his hand on the back of your chair.

Yes, he’s too fucking close, what the hell does he mean, ‘am I too close?’, you thought, both angry and flustered, but then he suddenly took a seat on the desk before you, hugging one knee.

“I can sense exactly how you feel about me, and I find you quite delicious myself.”

And now your heart was beating in an actual frenzy. Your mouth opened and closed, stunned. Was this really happening? At work? You glanced at the door, now concerned that at any moment, someone would walk in and find you getting a little too comfortable with your client. He saw your eyes travel frantically, and in an excessive show of confidence walked over to the door and promptly locked it.

Then he pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it aside, shaking out his well-built arms now that they were free from the restrictive fabric.

“If you aren’t too loud, no one will know.”

That was enough to convince you.

He was before you quickly and hoisted you up onto the desk before kissing you on the neck, then lips, then in a trail down your chest between your breasts once you had unfastened the buttons of your blouse as fast as you possibly could. He unhooked the clasps of your bra, which somehow conveniently were at the front instead of the back, and palmed a breast, then both as he laid you onto your back, kissing hungrily all the while. Your legs hanging off the edge of the desk, he pulled down your already soaked panties, and tested the wetness of your heat with two fingers.

Sufficiently satisfied with your arousal, he flipped you over on your back so that you were bent over the desk.

“Why aren’t you a dirty, dirty woman?” He whispered, pulling onto your hair just so, enough that your back arched. “This is just so incredibly unprofessional.”

Too embarrassed to speak and too worried to be heard outside, you stayed silent as he grabbed a handful of your ass. You decided to focus instead on the flood of sensation washing over you - the heat rising in the pit of your belly, the searing pain of his rough grip on your skin, and the clang of his belt unbuckling as he undid his pants.

And in just mere moments, he was entering you, and you bit your lip hard enough you were sure you tasted blood to prevent yourself from crying out at the painful but delightful plunge of his hard cock into you. He continued to rut inside you, his hands in your hair, then around your throat and then gripping your hips as he moved faster and faster inside you, challenging your ability to stay stoic with a firm slap of your ass every so often.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan several thrusts in, and he leaned over, whispering into your ear to tease you.

“It looks like you’re not too worried about losing your job.”

And to that your fire only increased, your walls tightening around him, and your eyes now stinging from the overwhelming pleasure you felt.

And then he finally became more and more erratic, holding pressure on your bruising hips as he finally came, timed just mere seconds after you had tipped over into a shaking extremis and collapsed, sprawling over the desk.

Dislodging from you, he quickly redressed, you still shaking and panting from pleasure, and sat back down in front of you, legs crossed and smiling as you struggled to reorganize yourself, a quivering mess.

“So about my assets, you were saying?” He said, at normal volume now, a sparkle in his eye.

#hisoka x reader #hisoka #hisoka morow x reader #thanks for the ask!#work shenanigans

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coureirsix · 4 years ago

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supernatural season 16 episode 4 - “lifeline” | ao3 link

it's roughly 11 PM on january 23rd when dean gets a call from eileen. he'd been out of the bunker with jack and cas for nearly three days; they'd taken jack to an amusement park. something about never seeing one before which reminded dean the last time he'd ever been to one, he was three years old and didn't remember a thing. which was fine, except that jack had wanted to go to six flags. he'd said something about finding old commercials with a dancing old man and the closest one was in kentucky. naturally, this wasn't an issue with dean. he'd driven farther for less, but on the way back he'd begun to realize that as he got older, the drives took more out of him.

they'd gotten back earlier that afternoon and had spent most of the day lounging around until the exhaustion got the better of them at around nine. well, except jack. who could have just driven back to kentucky if he wanted to. cas made sure he didn't want to. so, it's saturday night, cas is breathing deeply beside him, completely asleep, jack is probably watching TV in the dean-cave, and dean has been drifting in and out of sleep for the past 20 minutes when his phone buzzes to the tune of the Call Me Maybe song. it's the tone he'd set up for eileen because, well, she never calls. so, when she does call, it's usually an emergency flare that's followed up with an explanatory text.

dean's eyes shoot awake and he watches the call miss as he waits a second for eileen's message to come in.

dean, sam broke the tub. he can't get the hot water to stop running. SOS. please, my hair is disgustingly humid. his too.

and dean laughs. it was an emergency, but the kind that didn't have him spiraling into a depression. that was... almost nice, he thinks. they have normal people problems now. he leans over to where cas is asleep beside him and cas' trained as well as dean is. he stirs awake with the movement and opens his eyes in a half-awake gesture.

“sam’s in trouble,” dean says with a smile. cas’ eyes shoot open, but dean’s demeanour doesn’t change, instead he follows up with, “he.. broke his bathtub somehow.”

cas squints. dean laughs some more and gets himself out of bed. he’s gotta find the little duffel bag that they’d dedicated to tools that didn’t include weapons of mass destruction. it shouldn’t be too hard to find. the last time they’d used it was when sam actually broke a door off its hinges.

“i’m going back to sleep,” cas says, turning over as dean redresses. and dean laughs again. cas was grumpy when he was exhausted. it was endearing.

it doesn’t take him too long to get ready to leave the bunker. he finds the duffel bag underneath the bathroom sink and before he knows it, he’s pulling out of the bunker’s vicinity in the impala and headed toward sam and eileen’s place. the issue with them is they live roughly 45 minutes away. he texts eileen back, letting her know he’s on his way.

and dean thinks, as he drives over. that it’s his birthday tomorrow. well- he checks his phone, it’s basically his birthday. sunday january 24th, 2021. he didn’t think he’d live this long. he was the answer to the universe now, technically. 42. he looks down at his hands on the wheel. they’re worn. they’re the hands of a tired man who fought multiple apocalypses, multiple archangels, god himself. and won.

he takes a deep breath and thinks about sam. he loves his little brother more than he can ever explain. it’s unhealthy, probably, how much he’d done to save sam from everything. death, despair, sam himself that time he lost his soul. dean was there and willing to bleed for whatever sam needed. and he knew sam would always do the same. it was comforting. and even moreso now that they’d decided to take some time to really asses what was best for either of them. sam let himself want his apple pie life again. and it was the happiest day of dean’s life to see his little brother decorating the house he’d leased with eileen.

dean doesn’t hunt fulltime anymore. he’ll do an odd ghost job here and there, but mostly he mans the phones. he’s now FBI Supervisor Agent Harkness, police chief Richard Grayson, at cas’ request Texas Ranger Dean Swift, and at jack’s request Marlo Bridgers.it’s a living, he thinks. he still helps out other hunters and he passes off the bigger jobs to the younger people that’ve unfortunately ended up in the hunting life.

mostly, though, he and cas have been making up for lost time. they go out on dates. dates, like embarrassing 15 year olds. he’s taken cas to the movies, they’ve gone for walks at the mall. dean held cas’ hand under a tree and it was the most incredible thing in the world.

it’s embarrassing, it’s enough to make himself blush at the memory of it, but it’s also nice in that same breath. it brings him a sense of peace like he’s never fully properly known. because it’s about trust. and not trust in cas, not trust in himself, hell, the trust has nothing to do with either of them. it has to do with the fact that dean has finally let himself trust that things are going to be okay. that no matter what happens, he’s going to be okay.

and that’s what he thinks about when he’s sitting across from cas at the baskin robbins. that they’re safe. that things are okay. because they are, dean’s earned that much through his own tears and blood.

the sound of wind hitting the impala as he drives down the highway closer to sam and eileen is the melody to the memories of his life as it has been since they got rid of chuck and jack put god’s power back into the universe.

he pulls into the driveway of sam’s cookie cutter house. he’s in the middle of the driveway but dean doesn’t care and he knows neither sam nor eileen would care either. besides, the impala outshines the two normal cars they drive. he grabs the duffel bag and heads for the door, waiting for a second before the door clicks and he sees eileen in a crack in the door. he smiles at her.

“dean!” she says, visibly excited. dean keeps his smile on his face and waves, unsure why she’d be so excited that he’s here at practically midnight to fix her bathtub. she reaches out to grab his wrist and pull him into the house. she leads him through dark down the little hall that dean knows leads into the bathroom. dean notices there is no humidity in the house.

“eileen? is everything-” dean starts to ask when the lights flick on, blinding dean for a second before it clicks that it’s a party. it’s a party at midnight for him.

he sees jody, donna, alex, claire and kaia. sam and bobby among several other hunters dean had come to know. it’s a full house, yet dean notices the lack of jack and cas. there’s a stack of presents in a corner behind the kitchen, a cake with a single candle on the table. claire is approaching him with a party hat in her hands and an evil look on her face. dean glances over at eileen, who’s beaming at him. she knows what she did. led zeppelin comes through a little speaker in the corner, not too loud, but loud enough that its ambiance music now.

dean lets himself get wrapped in a hug from claire and then lets her put the hat on him before sam approaches him.

“this your idea?” dean asks. sam grins, but shakes his head.

“no, actually. i wanted to do it tomorrow morning. show up at the bunker with everyone, but, i know someone with worse intentions than me who said that tricking you into coming here at the moment of your birthday would be something you couldn’t see coming,” sam opens his arms and dean lets himself fall in. he hugs his little brother back and the emotions from earlier come back. he and sam were alive. dean’s greatest achievement in life was keeping sam alive and now here he was, reaping the benefits.

he goes through similar motions with everyone. jody gives him a hug and then leans up to kiss him on the temple. donna squeezes him so hard he swears his insides are flattened.

after a few moments of getting caught up with everyone, sam sits him down at the table where the cake is. dean rubs his hands, ready to light the candle in it when sam makes this “uh-uh” sound. dean looks up at him in confusion when eileen brings over a pie with those large novelty number candles set into it. 42 sure was a year.

dean sits there in the obligatory hot seat as everyone gathers around and sings him happy birthday. it’s awkward, it makes him blush and tears well up in his eyes, although nobody can really see it through the dimmed lights. and he looks around and his smile saddens a bit. he should have told cas to come with him. did sam not think to text jack?

he goes through the motions and cuts the first slice of the pie for himself and passes off the pastry to sam and eileen who take care of passing out the rest of it and the cake that’d been there. dean looks around, hoping cas and jack had been right behind him as sam brings him over a whiskey. it goes down ridiculously smooth. sam mentions he ran one last credit card scam for $3,000 whiskey for this. dean laughs and asks for another.

the night winds down fairly quickly, given it’s nearly three in the morning by the time everyone’s settled down into a less partying mood. dean ends up sitting outside with sam in some lawn chairs from walmart in sam’s cookie cutter back yard. eileen’s gone to bed and most everyone has gone home by then.

“you ever think we’d live this long?” sam asks.

“nope,” dean says without hesitation, “sammy, you died when you were twenty two. i died at twenty seven? twenty eight? god, i don’t even remember.”

“and those were just the first times,” sam says with an incredulous laugh.

“shit,” dean laughs with him, “yeah.”

“and we got out,” sam says. there’s a satisfaction in his voice that makes every single time dean died or did anything stupid for sam worth it. it’s a tone that dean knows means sam is happy. and that’s it, that was dean’s goal.

“we did,” dean agrees, taking another sip of the whiskey, “we beat hell, we beat heaven, we beat purgatory, we beat god.”

“kicked god’s ass,” sam affirms, “we get to choose what we want to do now. we write our own destiny now.”

dean reaches over and outstretches his glass. sam meets him halfway and they toast to that. dean watches sam pull his phone out and send off a quick text message. probably eileen telling him to go to bed.

they sit in silence for a while. and sam’s phone vibrates. dean watches him check it and not respond. trouble in paradise? he doubts it, but he doesn’t really know every single thing about sam anymore.

“i know you’re gonna tell me to shut up, but i do have to say, dean. thank you,” sam looks over at him.

“for?” dean asks.

“for everything, man,” sam has this look on his face like he’s going to cry, “you raised me. you were always there for me. im thirty eight, nearly sixteen years overdue if you hadn’t sold your soul to save me. i’m who i am because of you, and i like to think i’m in pretty good shape. and you, dean. i’m so proud of you. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met. and i love you, and i’m happy that it was you that i got to have be my big brother.”

dean actually cries, but he turns around so that sam can’t see it. he composes himself in a second and turns back. he doesn’t have it in him to fight sam on the emotional distress this is causing him. instead he says, “thanks, sam. i’m glad i got to be your big brother, too.”

sam’s phone buzzes again. he checks it again and this time does respond. he sighs and looks over at dean again, “i gotta go. eileen says the bed is too cold.”

dean huffs a laugh and nods, “go fix that.”

sam nods and gets up. dean hears the door that leads back into the house slide open and then slide shut. and dean is left with himself at the end of it all. he sighs. he’s happy, he thinks.

and then he hears an unmistakable flutter.

“dean!” he hears jack yell. it’s louder given it’s three in the morning and most people in this neighbourhood are asleep.

“i’m so sorry,” jack says, rushing up to dean’s side, “we were planning to be there for the cake but it wasn’t ready and we kept trying to fix things-”

“fix what?” dean asks, curiously. he’s not mad.

“the-” jack stops short, looking behind dean. and dean realizes the missing piece of his birthday puzzle has to be behind him.

and he is. the angel castiel is standing behind dean on the cement part of the patio a few feet back, wearing one of dean’s old band tshirts under his trench coat. and there’s a book in his hands.

“happy birthday, dean,” cas says, a little smile on his face.

dean gets up. his foot nearly kicks the whiskey glass he set down with the speed he gets up at. and he doesn’t waste any time in grabbing the sides of cas’ face and pressing the most heartfelt, loving, tender kiss dean has ever given anyone in his life. there’s a warmth that always seems to be radiating from cas and dean wants to stick to it like a leech.

when he pulls back, cas keeps the little smile on his face and hands dean the book. it’s a photo album, he realizes, once he takes it and opens it. there’s- there’s baby pictures of him there. things that were surely lost in the fire in lawrence. as he flips through the album, he finds pictures of him and sam growing up. things nobody had ever photographed before, he’s pretty sure. at one point he finds a picture of him at age twelve, lying on roof of the impala.

“cas,” dean asks, in completely disbelief, “where did you get these?”

“i did!” jack says coming from behind dean in an awkward hug from behind, “i can still tap into the power of god if i want to. it wasn’t hard to pop into different points of your life and just take a picture.”

dean turns back and pulls jack forward to pull him into a better hug as he laughs. that’s somehow the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

“happy birthday, dad,” jack says. and he tenses against dean.

“did you just call me dad?” dean asks.

“no,” jack lies.

“right,” dean says, a grin on his face that he looks up and notices that cas shares.

“well, it’s kinda creepy that you existed for a second at different points in my life, but i love it, jack. a walk down memory lane, shit and all. i love it, thank you, son” and he leans down to press a kiss against the top of jack’s head.

“this what kept you?” dean asks cas as jack lets go and says he’s heading inside.

cas nods and he says with a little shrug, “it seemed like a kind gesture. i sort of gave him points to land on. that way he didn’t land in the middle of a hunt or something. i’m sorry, dean.”

dean shakes his head and goes to set the book down on the chair he’d been sitting in and he walks back over to cas. where cas is standing, there’s a cement step between the cement patio area and the grass that dean and sam had been sitting in. it makes it so cas is a few inches taller than dean.

dean finds himself turning around so that cas can come around him, head coming to rest on dean’s shoulder and his arms coming around dean’s middle.

“thought you were supposed to be sleeping,” dean says with a mocking tone.

“and miss your forty-second birthday?” cas asks, turning to press a kiss to the side of dean’s face. they look up at the sky and dean wonders how exactly he got there. there’s a feeling in his chest that he doesn’t understand, but he knows what it is. it’s peace, it’s happiness.

“i have a speech prepared for you,” cas says softly. his hands tap at dean’s stomach and dean brings up his own hands to cover them.

“right, right. something about how my eyes glitter like the moon?” dean asks, his tone is still jokey.

“something like that,” cas says, “and moreso how you’ve been the world’s lifeline and how i’m so happy you’re finally thinking of yourself.”

dean’s heart sinks a little as cas continues.

“you know sam loves you, you know your friends love you. you know that i love you with the wrath of heaven behind me. and somehow that doesn’t compare to the happiness i feel now that i know that you finally love you.”

dean’s face goes completely red. the warmth is different from the warmth of the next kiss that cas places against his cheek again.

“thank you,” he chokes out, voice breaking because he’s started crying again, “i... i don’t have heaven. but i love you with the power of a guy who fought god.”

cas laughs, “and won,” he adds.

dean’s blush comes down a little and he leans back just a little, so he can turn and meet cas full on in another kiss before turning back to look out at the normal neighbourhood sam’s found himself in.

“do you think we could do something like this? cookie cutter house. you me and the kid?” dean asks.

“if you think you’re prepared to let the bunker go, i don’t see why not,” cas responds.

the thought of turning the bunker’s lights out for good makes dean feel a certain kind of way. still, though. now it’s a thought that’s popped into his head. who knows.

for now, he’s content to stand there with his angel, looking out at the other backyards, at the stars while their respective kids sleep in the house.

#deancas #deancasfic #destielfic #HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN #what's up it's 2 am and ive got WORMS in my brains #but this is cute.. i think.#.txt

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thejolexgroupchat · 4 years ago

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the one where they met in med school - part six

Moving in together

If you haven’t read parts 1-5 yet, make sure to check out the Master List for that and more fics that we’ve posted

Tonight’s episode was... well if you watched you know what we’re talking about. Anyway we figured you might need this

———

(June 2004)

“You’re absolutely positive about this?” Lexie asked as she taped up another box. “No doubts? Because if you freak out, you know you can always move back in with me.”

“Yes, Lexie I’m sure,” Jo smiled. “I really appreciate you trying to look out for me, but I’m ready. I’m excited to move in with Alex. This is a huge step for me and I really need your support.”

“You have my support. I’m happy for you, really happy for you. You of all people deserve this,” Lexie stood up from her place on the floor and picked up the box she’d just finished packing. “Okay, well that was the last box. Let’s get you out of here and into your new place.”

Soon after, the two friends arrived at the apartment that Jo and Alex had signed a lease on. It was a cozy one bedroom, second floor apartment about two blocks away from where Lexie lived. The majority of her things were already at their new place, Alex had come by earlier that day to transport her larger items to the apartment in his truck. There wasn’t much left to move and it’s not like Jo had many things to begin with.

“Honey I’m hoooome,” Jo pushed the door of the apartment, a box in hand as she walked through to the still fairly empty living room. “Alex? You here?” “Hey you,” Alex peeked his head out from the bedroom, a grin lighting up his face as he spotted his girlfriend. “You need help with anything?”

“Nope, I only had a few boxes left and Lexie helped me carry them up before she left,” Jo set the box in her hands down before walking over to Alex and kissing him. “Wow, it actually looks nice in here.”

“What? Did you think you’d get here and this place would be a dump?”

“No, I just… usually we would hang out at my place. I just realized that I never actually saw where you lived before signing the lease on our new apartment,” Jo stuffed her hands in her pockets and leaned against the wall.

“Now, that place was a dump. My roommates were disgusting. Be glad you never stepped foot in there,” Alex walked up towards her and placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head.

She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I'm kind of nervous. I've never done this before. I never leave more than a toothbrush and pair of underwear at someone's house."

"I know. I haven't either, so I guess we're doing this together," Alex smiled at Jo coyly. "What do you say we christen our new house?"

"I can be into that," Jo’s gaze darkened and she squealed as Alex threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom.

———

(June 2007)

“Hi,” Jo grinned brightly as Alex wrapped his arms around her outside the airport arrival terminals. “Can you believe that this is the last time you’re picking me at the airport?”

“Trust me, I’m very excited that I never have to drop you off for an extended period of time again,” Alex leaned in and kissed Jo, grabbing the bags in her hands. “Come on, let’s go home.”

They arrived outside an apartment complex across the street from the hospital. Jo looked over at Alex quizzically, “I thought you were living at Meredith’s?”

“I was. It was great and the rent was cheap, but I didn’t feel like having Mer and Izzie and Cristina all up in my business. Which is exactly what would happen if you suddenly moved all your stuff into the house,” Alex explained as he guided her through the building. “Come on, I already brought most of the boxes you shipped inside.”

“Huh, should I be worried about all the women you’ve been living with?” Jo teased. “Are any of them, I don’t know, in love with you?”

“Please,” Alex scoffed. “Yang just got left at the altar a week ago by her fiancé, Meredith is in love with Shepherd, and Izzie’s doing it with O’Malley—who’s married.”

“Woah, back it up,” Jo eyes widened. “You didn’t think to tell me that Yang got left at the altar?”

“In my defense, I left the wedding before it happened because my patient Ava—I mean, Rebecca was getting discharged from the hospital that day. So, I didn’t find out until I got back to the house that night and saw Izzie stress baking and she spilled everything that had gone down.”

“Stress baking?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of her thing,” Alex shrugged. “When her fiancé died, she made these killer chocolate muffins.”

“Uh huh,” Jo nodded. “And now she’s having sex with George? Married George?”

“Yeah… I’m trying my best not to judge because we all know I’m not a saint. I’ve cheated on girlfriends before, I’ve been the guy who slept with a married woman, but it’s different. I was a kid back then. And I certainly didn’t do it with the intention to break up a marriage. She’s actually trying to break up O’Malley and Torres, because she’s what? In love with him?” Alex shook his head. “Well, that girl falls in and out of love quickly.”

Jo eyed Alex curiously for a moment as they stepped onto the elevator, “You haven’t cheated on me, right? You’d tell me if you had?”

“No, of course not,” Alex looked at Jo with wide eyes. “We’ve known each other for a million years, do you really think I’m like that?”

“I know you’re not,” Jo leaned up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I trust you.”

A goofy grin spread across Alex’s face as he looked at Jo. He’d just seen her the month before, but he was more than thrilled that she was here and that this time there would be no teary goodbye, no more late night and early morning phone calls, no booking cross country flights because he was concerned that she wasn’t feeling well. After a long and torturous year, they were finally reunited for good.

“I love you,” Jo’s eyes flitted to Alex as he said it, the elevator dinging and letting them off on their floor. “And I’m really freaking happy you’re here. And that we have a whole new apartment to christen.”

Jo let out a laugh as Alex stopped outside their door, hands digging in his pockets to grab his keys and unlock it. She made a move to step through the door, but Alex held his hand out to stop her, “What? Why can’t I go in?” “I have to carry you over the threshold, you know it’s a stupid new house tradition,” Alex peered into the still empty apartment with a shrug. “It’s definitely not a house, but it’s all ours so I think that counts for something.”

Alex turned back to Jo, who was beaming at him. He quickly grabbed Jo around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder as she giggled, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t how you’re supposed to do it. Also I’m fairly certain that this is a tradition for married couples.” “Yeah but it makes it easier to carry you to the bedroom so I can have my way with you. And I promise I’ll put a ring on it eventually, I already told you I would,” Alex’s retort brought out more laughter from Jo, her fingers reaching down to pinch Alex’s ass as he continues through the apartment. “Hey! Keep your hands to yourself, at least until I put you down.”

Jo laughed as Alex lowered her from his shoulder and pressed her against the wall, “Make me.”

“Bad choice of words, princess.”

*****

A couple days later, Jo and Alex were laying on the floor, basking in the afterglow of their weekend sex marathon when Jo turned in Alex’s arms.

“You realize we just had sex on the floor, right?” Jo faced Alex, while his arms were around her.

“Yeah. What about it?” he asked, confused about her question.

“You know I have no problem with it, but it’s just… we had sex on the floor because there was no other option. There is no furniture in here,” she pointed out.

“You might have a point,” Alex shrugged.

“I bought us a couch,” Jo admitted.

“Wait what?” he sat up.

“Yes. We can’t have sex on the floor forever, Alex. And, there’s no dining table, chairs, our mattress is lying on the floor, for crying out loud. How the hell did you survive an entire year without me?” she chuckled.

“Well, I had furniture when I first got here, but then I got kicked out of the one place and moved into Mer’s, and she already had furniture,” he shrugged, just then realizing that she had just told him she had bought a couch. “You bought us a couch?” he pulled her closer, his lips brushing over hers. It was only a couch, but it meant something much more important than that to them.

“I did. It will be delivered tomorrow morning,” Jo smiled.

“I really don’t know I survived without you,” Alex shook his head. “On the brightside, when the couch gets here we’ll have plenty of opportunities to make use of it.”

“Hot couch sex?” Jo raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like fun. Count me in.”

“For now, though… I say we continue making use of the floor,” Alex’s hand trailed down Jo’s stomach to the nook between her thighs.

Jo let out a breathy sigh, “Alex.”

“Yes?” Alex smirked as his fingers began their work, teasing before finally allowing two of his fingers to curl inside her.

“Don’t stop,” Jo let out a shaky breath. “God, please don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Alex kissed his way down her body, settling between her legs. He lowered his head and breathed over her sex quietly. “You might want to hold onto something.”

#jolex #jolex fanfic #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic #alex karev #jo wilson #jo x alex #jo karev #moving in together #med school #lexie grey #jolex forever #jolex au #grey's anatomy au #jolexie #the one where they met in med school

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] Also on AO3

Chapter 11: Sasha

They all jump at the sound of the recorder clicking off. Tim sits up straighter and rubs his hands together.

“Well!” he says in what Sasha can tell is a falsely cheerful voice. “I think that’s enough earth-shattering revelations for one night. Who wants that whiskey now?”

“I refuse to get drunk around you again,” Sasha says. It’s a pathetic attempt at their usual banter, but it does get a genuine smirk out of Tim, complete with that unfairly attractive dimple.

Jon exhales heavily. He pulls off his glasses with one hand and rubs at his eyes with the other. “I should…probably get going.”

“The hell you will,” Tim says immediately. “Look at you. If I let you out the door, you’ll fall asleep at the wheel and die before you get to the end of the block. You’re staying the night.”

“Tim, while I appreciate the offer—”

“Nope, not interested in the rest of that sentence. The only thing keeping you upright is the arm of the sofa and the starch in your underpants.”

“And the stick jammed up my ass, no doubt?” Jon raises an eyebrow.

Tim grins. “See? You’re so tired you’re actually joking around with me. Stay the night, and tomorrow we can get answers out of them first thing.” He stands up without waiting for an answer. “One of you can take the sofa, the other one can have the love seat. Unless you want to build a blanket fort on the floor, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave Martin out. We’ll let the old folks fight over the bed.”

“Old folks?” Jon Prime repeats indignantly. He shoots an obviously exaggerated glare at Martin Prime, who isn’t even bothering to hide his snickers. “We don’t look that bad.”

Tim laughs. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem that tired, really. “Come on, you two. I’ll show you where the bedroom is.”

Jon Prime gets to his feet, then hesitates and glances at Martin Prime. Sasha wonders how blind Martin Prime actually is, because he seems to respond to that look; he hesitantly reaches out in Jon Prime’s direction. Jon Prime takes his arm without further comment, and Sasha watches Martin Prime’s shoulders slump in evident relief before the two of them quietly wish the rest of them goodnight and follow Tim down the hall.

Sasha watches them for a moment, then glances at Jon and Martin, who are both avoiding looking at one another. She decides to give them a little space and go gather up the spare blankets and pillows. They probably both need a minute or two to process what they just heard.

Truthfully, Sasha’s not sure what she thinks of it either. She’s impressed that Martin Prime isn’t passively rolling over and taking whatever Jon Prime dishes out, and she’s a little bit in awe of his strength. Could she have survived two weeks alone and blind, let alone in the Archives? That feeling of being watched is creepy enough when she can look over her shoulder and confirm nobody’s actually there; she can’t imagine what it would be like if she didn’t have that option. It must be terrifying, but Martin Prime hasn’t shown it.

She’s also—there’s no denying it—curious as all get-out. She kind of wants to interrogate Martin Prime, find out how he lost his eyesight, if it’s total vision loss or partial, if he thinks it’s temporary or permanent. What it’s like being blind in general, what it’s like trying to maneuver around the Archives blind. How he plans to deal with it if it is permanent.

As she passes the door of Tim’s bedroom, which is ajar, she hears Martin Prime say, evidently mid-sentence, “—put you to any trouble.”

Sasha slows her steps and hovers outside the door, eavesdropping shamelessly. It’s always been one of her fatal flaws, that urge to snoop and spy and pluck secrets out of thin air. It’s part of what drew her to the Magnus Institute over any of the other research or archival jobs she could have taken, the other part being that most of the others would have required her to go too far from London. She hasn’t said anything about that to any of the others, about why she’s so keen to stay in the city. For all she loves ferreting out things about those around her, she’s always been close-mouthed about her own secrets.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Tim says. “Like I said, we were planning to spend the night in the Archives anyway, and I don’t think we’d all have fit on that cot in the back room. My floor’s a lot more comfortable.”

“Yes, but we don’t want to turn you out of your room.” Jon Prime sounds uncertain and exhausted.

“I offered. Look. Martin’s probably going to be asleep before I get back out to the living room, he looks exhausted. And I don’t think the rest of us want to leave him alone right now.” Tim sighs. “Where did we all sleep when we did this before?”

“Hmm?” Sasha isn’t sure which one of the Primes makes that noise.

“You said this happened a lot earlier than it did for you guys, right? If we want to keep an eye on each other like this now, I bet it was even worse two months down the line. Did somebody else put us all up or what?”

There’s a short pause before Martin Prime says, “No, we—we all sort of went our separate ways.”

“Wait, seriously?” Tim sounds genuinely shocked. “No, that’s—if you were hurt—”

“I wasn’t, though. I was the only one who came out of it unhurt.”

“Physically, anyway,” Jon Prime says. “We were all a bit…it was rough for a while there.”

“All the more reason we should have stayed together, then,” Tim says. “Whose idea was it not to?”

“I think we were all just…tired,” Martin Prime says slowly. “You—our Tim, I mean—he was in quarantine for a while, so he just wanted to go home, and Sasha…she wasn’t herself.”

Somebody makes a noise that might be a laugh, but Sasha isn’t getting the joke. Tim has an audible frown in his voice when he speaks again. “And you? What did you do? Go back to the place you’d last seen when you were being toyed with by six thousand worms wrapped in a trench coat and pretend that the idea of sleeping there alone didn’t bother you, then spend the night lying in bed staring up at the ceiling and jumping at every single sound?”

Martin Prime doesn’t answer for a moment. Finally, he says, so quietly Sasha has to move closer to hear properly, “You know, nobody ever actually asked me about that?”

“You know, that doesn’t really answer the question.”

“Martin?” Jon Prime’s voice is soft and laden with concern.

Martin Prime sighs heavily. “No. I went back to the place I’d last seen when I was being toyed with by six thousand worms wrapped in a trench coat and found out that I’d missed the deadline to renew my lease, then spent the night in a waiting room at St. Pancras pretending I had an early-morning train and reading through rental notices.”

Sasha presses a hand to her mouth to keep from swearing out loud. Tim does enough of that for both of them. “When was the lease up?”

“Mid-April sometime? Mrs. Mattson is…I’d been living there for years, but she’s not a sentimentalist. Once that deadline passed, she found a new tenant and arranged to have the place cleared out.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Jon Prime’s voice sounds ragged.

“It never really came up,” Martin Prime says, sounding a bit tired himself. “By the time I saw you again, I’d found a new place anyway, and I just…nobody ever asked me why I moved and it seemed easier not to say anything. There was kind of a lot going on.”

“All right, I—I suppose that’s fair, but…” Jon Prime trails off.

Sasha hears Tim take a deep breath. “Right, well, we’ll do better than that for our Martin, don’t worry. Maybe you can help us convince him he deserves it. Anyway, you two look like you’re about ready to drop, so I’ll let you get some sleep and finish grilling you tomorrow. Bathroom’s right across the hall if you need it.”

“Thank you, Tim,” Jon Prime says softly. “I mean it.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Sasha hurriedly steps away from the door and moves to the linen closet at the end of the hallway. A moment or two later, Tim joins her. “Need a hand?”

“I just thought I’d get the spare blankets and pillows,” Sasha says. “You know, so it feels a little more like we’re really sleeping. How were you planning to handle that in the Archives, by the way?”

Tim has the grace to look sheepish. “Okay, so it was an impulse. Sue me. We’d have probably ended up in a pile on the floor or something.”

“I suppose there are worse ways to sleep than in a cuddle pile with my two best friends.” Sasha nudges Tim, who laughs. “Like…alone, on a cot in the Archives.”

“I still can’t believe we let him do that for so long. We are horrible friends.” Tim glances over his shoulder, his expression suddenly pinched. Sasha wonders if she should admit that she heard his whole conversation with the Primes, but decides, on the balance, nah. “I mean, Jon I understand, he was still pretending he hated us.”

Sasha snorts and pulls out an armful of soft things. “Not very well.”

It at least brings a smile back to Tim’s face. “Well, I mean, you and I already knew it was an act. It’s just Martin who probably didn’t know.”

“Martin would have quit if he really thought Jon didn’t like him,” Sasha says, although she’s not altogether sure that’s true. Between the fact that he falsified most of his credentials to get the job at the Institute to begin with and the fact that he’s the sole support for a chronically ill mother, he probably would have put up with a lot worse than a boss that hated him. “Or at least asked to be transferred back to the library.”

“What, and leave us to the mercies of the Archives?” Tim grins. “C’mon, grab the spare pillows and let’s go make everybody comfortable.”

True to Tim’s prediction, Martin has fallen asleep by the time they get back into the living room, although in a way that doesn’t make it seem like he’s under very deep, or at least that he’s not comfortable enough to stay asleep easily. Jon is kneeling on the floor in front of him, carefully working his shoes off his feet. He looks up when they come in, obviously flustered and embarrassed. “I didn’t notice he’d dropped off until a minute ago,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sasha isn’t surprised, considering he was avoiding making eye contact, but she doesn’t say that out loud. “I mean, it’s been a long day, and he’s probably in a lot of pain.”

Tim dumps his load on the coffee table. “Here, you get the lever and I’ll ease the back down so he doesn’t fall too hard. Don’t want to wake him, but sitting upright all night isn’t going to help him.”

Sasha wonders, as she sets down her own burden, how much of this is Tim trying to atone for what their counterparts did to Martin Prime and how much of it is him genuinely worrying about their Martin, but she’s not going to ask because that would mean revealing she was eavesdropping. Instead, she selects a pillow and blanket and starts setting them up on the love seat while she watches Tim and Jon try to ease the footrest out and the back to a reclining position without jostling Martin awake. He must be really tired, though, because although his face screws up briefly and he makes a soft sound, he doesn’t otherwise react. Once he’s lying down, Jon leans over and carefully slides Martin’s glasses off of his face, then folds them and sets them on the end table between the recliner and the sofa.

He turns around, presumably to get a blanket, and starts when he sees Sasha making up a bed. “Here, you don’t have to—you’re taller than I am, you should—”

“Only by a bit,” Sasha interrupts. “Two or three inches isn’t going to make that much of a difference, and I sleep curled up anyway.” She also sleeps like the dead, and judging by the way Tim and Jon are fussing over Martin without making it obvious, she guesses they’re more concerned about Martin than she is. Which isn’t to say that she isn’t worried about him, only that she’s a bit more detached from the situation, for whatever reason. If anything happens to Martin in the middle of the night, she won’t wake up and hear it, and they’re more likely to jump up to do something about it anyway, so there’s no reason for her to stay near him. She doesn’t say that out loud, though.

“I…” Jon hesitates, then glances back at Martin, and his face softens in a way Sasha pretends not to notice so she won’t be tempted to pick at it. “All right. T-Tim, are you sure—”

“Yep. The floor and I are good friends. I’ve done a lot of camping and backpacking and the like, so I’m used to it.” Tim grins. “Pick a pillow and a blanket.”

Jon looks over the offerings on the table, then selects a faded patchwork quilt and unfolds it carefully. Somehow, Sasha isn’t surprised when he drapes it over Martin and tucks him in gently, almost tenderly, before turning back and taking another blanket along with a pillow. The blanket, to Sasha’s eye, looks as if it’s made of fiberglass and horsehair, but Jon runs his fingers over the pattern almost reverently. “Where did you find this?”

“California, I think,” Tim answers. “Maybe Mexico. My grandparents left me a bit of a legacy when they died, with the stipulation that I use it for a gap year in ‘the mountains’. It was that vague. I think my folks expected me to pick the Alps or the Pyrenees, maybe the Sierra Morena if I felt like being different. Something close to home, anyway. But I thought, hey, when am I ever going to get a chance like this again? Spent my whole last year of school planning and budgeting, and two days after graduation I was off to America. The start of the Pacific Crest Trail is right on the border with Mexico, and there was a market there, people selling handcrafts and the like. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra blanket. I was right, too.”

“Does it mean something to you, Jon?” Sasha asks, curious. “The pattern, I mean?” She’s seen people trace the lines of relics and books like that when touching something that looks familiar but isn’t, and there’s an oddly thoughtful look on Jon’s face.

“Sort of?” Jon looks up. He truly does look tired, which is odd, considering he wasn’t the one running from worms. “I—my mother’s sister married an American. Well, he was Mexican-American. My cousin had a blanket like this on his guest bed, he said his grandmother made it for him.”

Tim begins making up a bed on the floor with the remaining blankets. He does so with a practiced ease that tells Sasha he truly has done this plenty of times before. “You’ve been to America, then? Or does your cousin live over here?”

“No, he’s in New Mexico. Or he was the last time we spoke. It’s been a few years.” Jon bends over and begins untying his shoes. “I didn’t—exactly take a gap year, but I did take some time off and go to visit him. He and his parents, or at least my aunt, used to come over and visit for a week or two every summer, so I thought I’d repay him by returning the visit. Ended up staying through to the end of the year.”

“Didn’t make it to New Mexico when I was there.” Tim turns to Sasha. “How ‘bout you, Sash? Ever been to America?”

Sasha shakes her head. “Closest I’ve come was getting to go onto one of their military bases in Ansbach. My family was on holiday in Germany and a boy asked me if I’d be his date to a holiday party. Evidently I was the only girl his age who spoke English he ran into who wasn’t already going with someone else.”

“We’ll all have to go sometime,” Tim says. “Close the Archives down for a couple weeks, the four of us can fly over and do the tourist thing.”

“I doubt Elias would go for that,” Jon says dryly, straightening up. “I barely was able to convince him to let us have a day or two off while the cleaning crews come in and get rid of the worm carcasses. Unless we manage to somehow convince him we’re doing research and that I need all of you with me, he’d likely insist at least one of us stay back.”

“Then we’ll sneak off,” Tim declares. “Leave the Institute on a Friday night, promise to see him Monday. Slip away under the cover of darkness, take a taxi to the airport, buy tickets under assumed names and catch a midnight flight. By the time he realizes we’re not coming in on Monday, we’ll be well dug in somewhere in America. He’ll never think to look for us there.”

“And then we’ll get fired the minute we set foot back in the Institute,” Sasha says.

“Nah, not us. Who’d take our place? Especially now? He’d have to hire from the outside and lie about the conditions. Worst we’ll have to endure is a lecture. ‘I am sorely disappointed in all of you, leaving the Archives in such a state and going on holiday. We won’t discuss this further, but I will have to refuse any further time off requests you make for the remainder of the year.’”

Sasha presses a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. “Shh, you’ll wake Martin.”

“What do you say, Boss?” Tim asks, undeterred. “Team Archives in America? Debunking ghosts and solving mysteries? Rent a technicolor cargo van and adopt a Great Dane?”

The corners of Jon’s mouth twitch upwards in a smile. “Actually, the idea of going on a trip with the three of you is, strangely enough, not an altogether unwelcome one. God knows I haven’t taken a holiday in ages.”

“Your enthusiasm is boundless,” Tim says dryly. He kicks off his shoes and sits down on the blanket nest he’s built. “Hey, maybe the Primes will cover for us. They can pretend to be you and Martin and just Sasha and I can take the time off.”

“I think it’s a bit obvious they’re not us. Especially now.” Jon looks over at Martin. “I—I am sorry. I should have been there. I should have…it should have been me. Not any of you.”

Tim sighs, the smirk melting off his face. “Well, according to your counterparts, Martin was the only one who didn’t get…wormed the first time, so maybe you not being there means fewer people got hurt.”

“While I’m not ungrateful that you and Sasha weren’t hurt, Tim, it doesn’t make me feel any better for not…being there to help. Not even knowing.”

“Yeah, well…it was spur of the moment, sort of. And I deliberately didn’t tell you. Figured you wouldn’t…I don’t know, want to stay? Encourage us to stay? I mean, like you told Martin, it is still technically where we work, even if he was living there for a while.”

Jon looks pained. “I…in truth, I probably wouldn’t have wanted you all to stay, but not…Elias thought I was overreacting anyway, having Martin living there. I’d have probably come up with some ridiculous reason why you shouldn’t stay, but really it would have boiled down to the fear that if Elias found out we were all staying, he might order Martin out, and I—I thought that would put him in danger.”

“Well, if you believe what Martin Prime apparently told him, he wasn’t really what she was after,” Sasha points out. The last couple of words are swallowed by a yawn.

“I don’t know what I believe, Sasha.” Jon sighs heavily and takes off his glasses. “Let’s…table this discussion for the morning, shall we?”

“Sounds good. Tomorrow, then.” Tim yawns and burrows into his blankets.

Sasha curls up on the love seat. She figures she’ll lie there until she’s sure the others are asleep, then get up and do some investigating on her laptop, but to her mild surprise, she drifts off almost as soon as her eyes close.

#ollie writes fanfic #the magnus archives #tma #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#in which a whole lot of nothing appears to happen #enjoy the mental image of Team Archives as the Scooby Gang #Jon is Shaggy #Tim is Fred #Sasha is Daphne #Martin is Velma #I will fight you on this

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kimchikawaii · 4 years ago

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Catburger’s Crazy Tail

Gather around for a crazy tale!

Back in the day, I started the prototyping for my Mewcarons (cat macarons) and I liked the shape of my Hamburger Bun plush so told the factory to use that basic shape, but change minor things to make it a cat. Well, they took me literally and sent me the first pic - a catburger. I totally lol’d with my middle man. They said they could check if the factory would send it to me since they would just destroy it anyway. I said yes.

Then, nothing happened so I assumed that the factory had already thrown it away. We had gone on to get the approved Mewcaron plush so I got what I originally paid for. I was sorta bummed that the plush had ended up destroyed, but there wasn’t anything I could do.

Fast forward four years later to August, 2019 when I was walking home from work and saw this by the furniture dumpster behind an apartment complex down the street from me:

I have a certain tail shape on my Mewcarons and this plush had the same tail. I quickly pulled up the factory image from my Dropbox. It was Catburger! I quickly messaged my middleman and asked what happened to the prototype and if they had made more. She said ‘Nope, I had them send the one to you’.

‘I never got it,’ I said. ‘And I think I just found it!’

Catburger was definitely worse for wear and looked to have had a tough life. In my town, all the apartment leases end at the same time and August is turnover season. The complexes will put these big dumpsters out for people to leave their unwanted furniture and other large things. Catburger was sitting on this beat up chair.

With anything fabric (and even non-fabric), you have to be cautious about potential vermin like bed bugs. I also have pet allergies. Having no idea what Catburger had been through, I sadly decided to leave it and continued on my way home.

I posted that night on my social media about the whole thing and one of my friends said, ‘I could clean/restore it for you!’ By this time, it was dark, late and not a good idea for me to be walking around.

‘It’s on the way to work, I’ll get it in the morning,’ I said. That night, I felt bad that I had just left Catburger by the trash.

The next morning, I took a bag and was ready to get it. Except, someone had cleaned up around the dumpster! All the furniture was gone and the dumpster was locked up (you access it from the side and can walk in since it’s for furniture, not regular trash).

Honestly, I felt pretty sad that Catburger was fated to be buried in the dump.

On the way home, I decided to give it one more look. Since people had been moving some more, the dumpster was open again. I decided to throw all shame to the wind and go in and see if I could find it.

Catburger was right there near the entrance, looking a bit shocked and laying upside down under the wooden chair it had been on earlier. I think someone had just chucked the whole thing over the top the day before. I quickly grabbed him and put him in the bag.

I texted my friend that I had been able to rescue Catburger and would put him to go out the next day. I did tell her that he was sealed up in a bag and if there were bugs to just throw it away. I didn’t want to infest her house!

She texted me a few days later that Catburger had arrived safe and sound and passed quarantine. And then proceeded to send me hilarious pics of Catburger’s spa treatment.

She did a fantastic job. After restuffing him with fresh stuffing she took Catburger on some small adventures around her home state. He got to check out the regional bakery and all the tasty desserts inside, a nearby college and wonder why the local Starbucks was closed that day.

And then, it was time for him to come home.

After four long years, Catburger was finally with the rest of his Kimchi Kawaii siblings.

He lives happily on the couch now and watches me working on art or slacking off, watching Netflix.

So what now? Well, a lot of people got attached to Catburger as the story was playing out on social media this past fall. I did an intentional Catburger prototype and have just launched a Kickstarter to send it to production. We have until 8/20 to fund this one and two other plush.

But the original, prodigal Catburger will always have a special place in my heart. I’m so glad he’s home.

#catburger #plush #glowup #cats #catrescue #kawaii #kawaiiplush

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years ago

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Impossible - 6

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: This one is a little on the short side but there is a whole lot going on in the next chapter and this was the best place to cut. Enjoy.

***

You remained on Eric’s lap for the rest of the night and had even managed to doze off a couple of times despite the noise. When you woke the second time, Eric smiled down at you. “Feeling better?”

You straightened a bit, shifting your weight in his lap. “That depends. Did I drool?”

He laughed. “You were the picture of perfection.”

“In that case, I’m fabulous.” You stood. “I really should be going.” You weren’t even sure what time it was, but there had to be something you should be doing with your time besides sitting on Eric’s lap. Not that he seemed to mind in the least.

He stood with you and took your hand in his. “I’ll take you home.”

“I have my truck,” you protested, but he ignored you and pulled you along behind him as he made way to his office.

“Get your things,” he instructed as he flipped through some papers on his desk. You grabbed the bag you’d left sitting on his couch.

“Okay.”

He glanced up in surprise then shook his head. “You always were low maintenance. Let’s go.” He rounded his desk and took your hand in his again. He led you out the back door and into the employee lot.

Only when he led you to his car, did you protest. “Nope. We’re taking my truck. Some of us can’t fly back to our cars, Northman.”

“Fair enough.” There was laughter in his tone.

You pulled your keys from your bag and handed them over, still groggy from your nap. Besides, you wanted to be able to put your full attention on him while the two of you talked. When he started the truck, you touched his arm to make certain he was paying attention. “I’ll give you directions while we talk.”

“I know how to get to Bon Temps, Y/N. Unfortunately.”

“Good for you, but we’re not going to Bon Temps. Take me back to that apartment you showed me.” You settled back in your seat. “So, what is this between us, Eric? Are you bored? Looking to get laid? Just taking advantage of my proximity?”

His jaw went tight and he sighed. “I told you I spoke to Godric. There is no reason to continue the animosity between us.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I didn’t have any animosity, Eric. I was too busy trying to figure out what the fuck I’d done that was so terrible that you wouldn’t even talk to me anymore.”

“Why must you always do this?”

“Do what exactly?”

“Push. I told you that I am content to leave the past behind us. Why is that not enough for you?” He pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building and shut off the truck. He shifted in his seat so he was turned toward you.

You looked at your hands twisted together in your lap. “You hurt me, Eric. I need to define what this is, what you want it to be, so I’m going in with my eyes open. I’m more than willing to move forward, but I have to protect myself this time. I can’t allow myself to become lost in you again.” You wanted to forget that you’d spent the last three years without him and just let him love you. But you weren’t even sure that’s what he wanted and that’s why you were pushing for answers he didn’t like giving. Talking about feelings wasn’t exactly high on Eric’s skill list.

“My heart has been yours since the first moment I saw you.”

You jerked your head up at the words and saw nothing but sincerity in his expression.

He gave you a soft smile. “Our relationship is whatever you wish it to be, alskling, so long as I do not lose you again.”

The endearment had you sucking in a breath. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed hearing them. “All right, if we’re going to do this, I won’t share you. And we have to trust each other, Eric. No spying, no lies, and actual conversations if something is bothering us.”

“Very well. Now, I’m assuming you wished to see the apartment again?”

You shook your head and opened the door to step out, grabbing your bag as you went. “No need. I already signed the lease.”

In an instant he was by your side, taking the bag from your hand with a grin. “That makes me your landlord amongst the other things.”

“I know.” You leaned into him and tilted your head back to meet his gaze. “I also know that particular unit can be made day proof with the flip of a switch. Which I am assuming is why you showed it to me in the first place.”

“One of the reasons, yes.” He leaned down and captured your lips with his. The kiss was soft and didn’t last nearly long enough. “Come.”

He grasped your hand in his and lead you into the building. He stopped at the desk this time. “This is Ms. Y/L/N. She is the new tenant in unit 7C. She is also mine. Make sure that is known.” He dragged you off without waiting for a response.

You simply shook your head at his possessiveness. He let you into the apartment with your key and put your bag down near the two others you’d dropped off earlier. He looked around with a frown. “There is no furniture here.”

“Calm down, Northman. I just signed the lease. I have to make arrangements to have my stuff delivered from storage.”

He arched a brow. “Not Bon Temps?”

“You saw where I live. Besides, I wasn’t even certain I would be sticking around. I left most of my stuff in storage when I came.”

He closed the distance between you and settled his hands on your hips. “So, I take it this means you plan on staying for awhile?”

You placed your palms on his chest and leaned into him. “I kind of thought that was a given by this point, Eric.” You stretched up to kiss him and when he would have pulled away, you held him to you with a hand on his neck. By the time he moved from your lips to kiss down the line of your throat, you were panting. “Bite me.”

He leaned back to meet your gaze, his eyes questioning.

“I miss you, Eric. I miss our connection.” You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his response, still unconvinced he wanted the same level of commitment that you did.

His tongue darted out to trace his lips as his gaze shifted to your neck. “You will drink from me as well.”

“Of course, but you’ll have to bite me again, later. I want to wear your mark.”

He groaned and the needy sound went straight to your core. He’d always loved to mark you, claim you. As his mouth lowered to your throat, you took a deep breath. And as his teeth sunk into your tender flesh, only one thought ran through your head. You were home.

***

*alskling means darling or love

#eric northman x reader #eric northman x you #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #series #impossible

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iam93percentstardust · 5 years ago

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Pining for Lost Innocence

Written for @heamarvel‘s Hallmark Event: Prompt 10

Find on ao3 here

It’s a long one so look out for the read more

In Becca’s defense, it isn’t like she could have known that she’s picked the day Bucky had gotten left at the altar.

He and Brock had been very lowkey, so lowkey in fact that when Brock had asked if they could just get married at the courthouse, it hadn’t seemed off. That probably should have been the first clue. And then there’d been the two witnesses and no one else- clue number two. And then the fact that both witnesses had been Bucky’s friends and not Brock’s- well, Bucky should have known by then that Brock was going to walk out on him.

But he had fancied himself in love and had thought that Brock was just as in love with him. So he had waited, waited there in the judge’s office with Sam and Tony as his witnesses for as long as he could until the judge had finally, reluctantly, told him that she had other weddings to attend to. He’d gone back to the apartment they shared to find that Brock had cancelled their lease. He’d called Brock’s job- the other alpha had quit three days earlier, no forwarding address. He’d tried once to reach Brock’s phone; he received a message informing him that the number was no longer in service. It had hit him then, really truly hit him that Brock hadn’t just left him at the altar, he’d gone and abandoned him. He’d shown up at Tony’s door thirty minutes later and had never really left since then.

So when he gets Becca’s wedding invitation and sees that she’s set the date for December 23rd, the same day that Brock left him, he takes a deep breath, resolutely does not crumple the invitation in his hand, and just carries it inside.

Tony’s stretched out on the couch, a heating pad across his lap. His heat’s coming up in a few days. The pre-heat cramps have always been the worst for him, to the point where he usually has to take an additional couple days off work along with the regular three for his heat. Bucky can’t stop himself from sniffing at the air surreptitiously to try to catch a hint of Tony’s sweet pre-heat scent.

Tony smells the best, always has. It had driven him crazy after they’d both presented as teenagers, it had driven him crazy during the one heat they’d shared when Ty had walked out on Tony only hours before his heat and he hadn’t had time to get his suppressants into his system, and it still drives him crazy now. But Tony doesn’t want him, not really. He’d been convenient after Ty but that was it. He wants to ask for more but he also doesn’t want to ruin the fantastic friendship they’ve got by trying to push, not when Tony’s never asked for it. When Brock had come along, he’d thought he’d managed to move on from his feelings but he’d lived with Tony for barely a month before they were back in full force.

He’s loved Tony since they were children. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s convinced that he’ll love him for the rest of time, no matter who he mates with. And if Tony never loves him back, he’ll have to be okay with that because he’ll take Tony any way he can get.

“Hi honey,” he announces, shoving his moping to the back of his mind. “I’m home!”

Tony looks up from his phone and smiles brightly, spying the grocery bags in his hand. “Hello darling. Did you bring home the bacon?”

“Nope,” Bucky says, popping the p. “Doc says bacon isn’t good for your heart.”

Tony pouts. For a fleeting second, Bucky has the urge to turn around and run back out to the store to get bacon but he holds firm. Tony’s had a weak heart for years. His last surgery should have fixed the problem but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Tony can’t die. Bucky doesn’t know what he’ll do if Tony leaves him too.

“What’s that?” Tony asks. He nods at the envelope.

The beginning of Bucky’s good mood deflates. “Becca’s wedding invitation,” he says gloomily. He tosses the envelope Tony’s way, sending it spinning through the air. “She and Stevie picked a day.”

Tony completely fumbles the catch and ends up having to bend down from his reclining position to grab it from the floor. His shirt rides up, showing the smallest sliver of tanned skin. Bucky catches his breath, hoping that his scent blockers keep Tony from smelling horny alpha. Tony’s got enough trust issues after Ty; he doesn’t need Bucky adding to them.

He marches into the kitchen as Tony opens the envelope. He doesn’t need to see the look on the omega’s face when he sees the date. It’s sure to be pitying and he doesn’t want that, not from Tony.

There’s the shuffle of feet from the doorway to the living room. Bucky doesn’t turn around, just keeps putting away groceries. Even so, he manages to catch a glimpse of Tony in the mirror above the sink. The little omega’s wrapped the blanket from the couch around his shoulders. One hand is both clutching the heating pad to his stomach and holding the blanket closed. The other is holding the envelope. There’s no pity in his eyes, just soft understanding. Bucky smiles fondly to himself. He doesn’t know why he expected any different, except that maybe that’s all he ever seems to get from Sam (that and the occasional “You know, if you asked Tony out, you wouldn’t have this problem.”).

“Are you going to go?” Tony asks softly.

He shrugs. “Can’t not. It’s my sister and my best friend. Sides, Becca’d never talk to me again if I missed it.”

“You could tell her. She’d understand.”

And that’s the crux of it. He’d never told his family about what had happened last Christmas. His romance with Brock had been such a whirlwind. They’d gotten engaged after only two weeks of dating, moved in together a week after that, and nearly walked down the aisle three months later. He’d never even gotten around to telling his family that they were even dating, let alone that they were getting married (and subsequently, that he’d gotten left at the altar). He’d just told them that he didn’t feel up to visiting for Christmas and had spent the holiday curled up on Tony’s couch, letting the omega hold and soothe him.

“I won’t ruin Becca’s day,” he says decisively. It’s high time he stops letting Brock ruin his life. The man didn’t even bother breaking up with him. He certainly doesn’t deserve the right to determine the rest of Bucky’s life.

He tells Tony so. A huge grin breaks across Tony’s face. “That’s my alpha,” he declares proudly.

Bucky’s hand slips on the milk carton. He just barely manages to catch it before it hits the floor, glad that the mishap keeps Tony from seeing the red glow on his face. He wants to be Tony’s alpha, wants to hear Tony say that he’s his alpha. But if wishes grew on trees…

Well, wishing never did anything but cause misery.

“Dunno if I can do it by myself,” he mutters as he puts the milk in the fridge. Tony quirks his head curiously. “’s just I wouldn’t’ve had to do it if Brock was here. I dunno if I can handle Becca’s wedding on what was s’posed to be my anniversary.” He takes a closer look at what they’ve got in the fridge. “How does spaghetti sound?”

This close to his heat, Tony usually craves Italian food. Bucky’s more than happy to make it for him. If there’s a little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that any good alpha would take care of their omega before their heat, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

“Okay,” Tony says quietly. “I’m gonna go lay down again.”

Bucky watches him go before busying himself with dinner. He mulls over the problem of the wedding as he rolls the meatballs. He doesn’t want to go alone. If he goes alone, he’ll spend the entire time moping, fixated on what he almost had, and Becca will kill him. But-

“Tony,” he pants, skidding into the living room, “will you go with me?”

Tony, despite being fully clothed, clutches the blanket to his chest. He blinks at him sleepily. Bucky curses himself for disturbing the omega’s nap.

“To the wedding,” he clarifies. He’s already woken him up, might as well keep going. “Will you go with me to the wedding?”

There’s a strange, eager light in Tony’s eyes. “With you?” he repeats.

Bucky turns over the request in his mind and hastily adds, “As friends. I wouldn’t expect you to be my date.”

The eager light disappears. “Oh,” Tony murmurs. If Bucky hadn’t known any better, he might have thought that Tony sounded disappointed. But he does know better. There’s absolutely no way Tony’s upset that Bucky’s not asking him as a date.

Tony reaches up and holds onto one of Bucky’s hands with both of his much littler ones. “Of course I’ll go with you,” he says warmly.

He was imagining the disappointment. That’s all it was.

Imagining.

For Bucky, at least, the wedding of Steve Rogers and Becca Barnes is a strange one. Mostly because Steve’s his best friend and he remembers when they used to groan when Bucky’s mother would insist that they include Becca in their games. They had been six years older than Becca and so they really hadn’t had much to do with each other, which is why it had so surprised him when Steve had told him three years ago that he was madly in love with his sister and planned to ask her to marry him.

“I didn’t know you were even dating,” Bucky had said, utterly dumbfounded. Steve had scuffed his shoes along the floor and mumbled, “…we’re not.”

That was the point when Bucky had burst into laughter but he’d given Steve his blessing to ask her out, given it again when Steve had come back a year later and asked for his blessing to marry her, and continued wishing that he had the courage to ask Tony out like Steve had for Becca. They’d waited a few years to get married after announcing their engagement so Becca could finish college but everyone had known they were as good as mated. Steve was absolutely besotted with her and she was just as enamored as Steve.

Steve’s in the middle of his vows when Bucky hears a quiet sniff from beside him. He looks over to see Tony dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a tissue. He leans over. “This can’t possibly be making you cry,” he whispers. “It’s Steve. You two fight like cats and dogs.”

“Shut up, you useless alpha,” Tony hisses. “It’s romantic.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose and sits back up. It’s his alpha best friend and his beta sister. Bucky’s seen both of them (and Tony too, now that he thinks about it) naked in the kiddy pool. There’s nothing romantic about it.

Well, maybe it’s a little romantic. Just a bit. Barely more than a smidge. Fuck, if he and Tony were together, he knows that he’d think that it was romantic, with how they’ve known each other since childhood. He casts a sideways glance at Tony, who’s staring raptly at Steve and Becca with bright, shining eyes. He remembers the first time he’d ever seen Tony, standing alone on the playground, smaller even than Stevie because he was four years younger than everyone else in their year; remembers how Tony had come yelling to their rescue when Bucky had taken on a couple of Steve’s bullies. He’d gone home that day and told his mom, “There’s a new boy in our class and one day, I’m gonna marry him.”

Only he never had. Somehow, the timing had never worked out and they’d passed each other by like ships in the night- except for Tony’s heat.

They’d had three perfect days together. Three days sharing Tony’s heat because his heats were always terrible and Bucky couldn’t stand seeing him in so much pain. Usually, Tony’s suppressants were enough to smother the worst of the heat cramps but Ty had never liked him on suppressants so he’d gone off of them for the duration of their relationship. For Ty to dump him only hours before his heat when everyone knows that suppressants needed at least a day to take effect…

He growls, low enough to be nearly subvocal, the thought still making him angry after all this time. Tony swats him and he jumps. “Sorry,” he whispers and lets his mind drift again.

Tony had called him after Ty had left, sobbing. It had taken Bucky an age to figure out what Tony was telling him and when he’d finally managed it, he’d been up out of his chair and halfway out the door before he’d paused.

“Tony, honey,” he’d said. “You’re asking me to come over now?”

Tony had sobbed out a yes but Bucky had still hesitated. “Right before your heat?” He’d known that omegas in heat could be needy, known that they craved attention and touch, but Tony wasn’t his to hold.

“Please, Bucky,” Tony had whispered into the phone. “Please share my heat, just once. I need you.”

And Bucky had had to put his phone on mute so that Tony couldn’t hear his broken cry. Just once. That was all he could have Tony for. Just that one heat before he had to let the omega- his omega- go again.

They’d had three perfect days. Three days of Tony writhing beneath him, of him crying, “Alpha!” in that perfect way of his. Tony had been perfect, responsive and lovely and so, so beautiful. He’d made the prettiest noises, soft little mews when he was overwhelmed and breathy sighs when he was happy, the cutest growls when he was being bratty and demanding and when he’d come- his sweet cries could have rivaled the birds for their songs. “Pretty omega,” Bucky had murmured, nosing into Tony’s throat. “Sweet omega. My omega.”

Three perfect days and then never again.

“-for the first time as mates, Captain Steven Rogers and Rebecca Barnes Rogers,” the priest concludes.

…and now he’s missed most of the ceremony. Great. He hopes that Becca didn’t catch his drifting mind. He likes his dick where it is, thank you very much. Steve leans Becca backwards in a thorough kiss. For all of two seconds, Bucky entertains the thought of yelling, “Get some, Becca!” but he thinks that might be even worse than missing the ceremony.

“Did you pay attention to any of it?” Tony asks as they stand and clap with the rest of the guests.

“No,” Bucky sighs.

“Useless alpha.”

Becca finds him halfway through the dancing lurking in a corner. “Hey, dickwad,” she says as she bounds up to him.

“Fuckface,” he replies cheerfully, not able to tear his eyes away from Tony dancing with one of their younger cousins. Becca’s beautiful of course, brides always are, but Tony’s radiant in his traditional male omega formal wear. It’s nothing more complex than an ensemble cut like a suit across his torso but the back is entirely lace, dipping low across his hips where it flares into a gown. Bucky can’t stop staring- and neither can most of the other unmated alphas here.

“Are you staying for Christmas this year?” Becca asks.

“Hmm?” Bucky hums, still watching Tony dance with his five-year-old cousin. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. We really missed you last year. Actually, no, just Mom and Dad missed you. I was delighted that I didn’t have to see your stupid face.”

“Right back atcha.”

“But really, Bucky, it isn’t really Christmas if the family isn’t together and I know you had plans with Tony last year but maybe you could bring him this time?”

One of Steve’s artist friends, an alpha by the looks of him, cuts in and steals Tony away. Tony looks absolutely bewildered and keeps glancing back at Bucky’s little cousin, left alone on the dance floor. Bucky clenches his fists. That hadn’t been necessary. The alpha could have let them finish the dance or better yet, could have left Tony alone for the rest of the night.

“If you could take your eyes off your omega for five seconds,” Becca says archly.

That gets through to him. “Tony’s not my omega,” he replies confusedly.

Becca looks just as confused. “What? But you RSVP’d together.”

“Yeah…” Bucky says slowly, not certain where she’s going with this.

“He could have just come on his own. We sent him his own invitation. He didn’t have to come with you.”

He gets it then, where she’s confused. She doesn’t know that Tony’s here as his support. She’d just seen that they had sent two separate invitations but had replied together to only one of them, the same way a couple might have.

“Tony’s not my omega,” he repeats quietly. “We came together because this was supposed to be my anniversary.”

“What?” Becca’s mouth is gaping slightly open. Under his misery, he can’t help but be a little pleased that he’s stunned his normally unfazed sister.

“I was seeing someone last year,” he mutters. “We were going to get married. It was supposed to be a quick, private ceremony, just us and a couple witnesses. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Christmas. And then he left me at the altar.”

“Oh Bucky,” she sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve picked a different day.”

He glares at her. “You’ve worked so hard on this. I wasn’t going to ruin it.”

“Taking care of yourself isn’t ruining things,” she says firmly. “Is that why you didn’t come for Christmas?”

He nods miserably. “Tony said I wasn’t in any state to go anywhere so we holed up in his apartment and watched shitty Hallmark movies.” More quietly, he says, “It was perfect.”

Becca bites her lip. He watches her detachedly, wondering if she’s going to say what she’s thinking or not. She’s quiet just long enough that he’s getting ready to excuse himself before she blurts out, “And you still think he’s not in love with you?”

“What?”

“I can’t keep doing this,” she says quickly. “I know I told Steve I wasn’t going to interfere but I can’t watch you two miss out on this.”

“Becca, what are you talking about?” he says harshly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she says helplessly. “You think just anyone would’ve given up on their Christmas like that?”

“I was upset!” he replies. “Yeah, I think any decent friend would’ve done that.”

“So Steve was there too, huh?”

It’s rhetorical. They both know that Steve spent last Christmas with the Barnes. “That’s different,” he begins.

“You said any decent friend. But fine. What about Sam? Was Sam there? Or how about Nat? Maybe Clint?” Bucky gapes at her. “You don’t have to say anything, it’s fine. I know it was just Tony.”

“Just because Tony spent Christmas with me doesn’t mean he’s in love with me,” he argues.

She throws her hands up in the air. “For fuck’s sake, you shared a heat together!”

“How do you even know about that?”

Becca sneers. “Steve tells me everything. I mean, come on, Bucky. Heats mean something to omegas. Sure, Tony was going through a breakup but he could have spent it by himself if he really wanted to. He wanted you.”

“He told me, ‘Just this once.’”

“Did he?” she asks. “Or did he ask for just once? There’s a difference.”

Bucky falls silent and turns to look at where Tony’s stepping firmly away from the alpha and going back to the kid he’d been dancing with earlier. “Becca, does he love me?” he murmurs, half-dazed by the very thought.

“He hasn’t dated since Tiberius. He invited you into his home. Hell, Bucky, you’ve seen his nest. No one gets to see his nest. If he doesn’t love you, then I don’t know what love looks like.”

He takes several deep breaths. “I think I need to sit down,” he gasps.

“Nope,” Becca says, pushing him in the direction of Tony. “You need to go ask that pretty omega to dance and tell him how you feel and then you need him to bring him to Christmas with you because I’ll never talk to you again if he’s not there.”

Bucky takes two steps away from her and then turns back around. He swoops down to drop a light kiss on her cheek. “You look stunning,” he says honestly. “Now please go find your husband and stop meddling.”

He waits for Tony to finish his dance with his cousin before he comes up behind him. He settles a hand at Tony’s back and murmurs into his ear, “Walk with me?”

Tony turns his head, so close Bucky can feel his breath on his cheek. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great.” He pauses and then amends the thought. “I think. I just wanted to ask you something and I’d really like it if I could do it away from my very nosy family.”

Obediently, Tony trails behind him until they’ve left the wedding tent behind and are winding through the labyrinth behind the tent. Becca picked this reception hall specifically for the labyrinth and had thumped Bucky on the head when he’d informed her that it wasn’t like she was going to be spending any time in it. He’s glad for it now though as it offers them some small bit of privacy.

He comes to a stop when he has to start straining to hear the music. They’re in a small corner; if they were trying to find the center of the maze, they certainly wouldn’t have succeeded. It’s cold out, the way it always is in upstate New York in December. He can see their breaths hanging in the air between them. It’s supposed to snow soon, he knows, but it hasn’t started yet.

Tony rubs his arms. “Cold?” Bucky asks. When Tony nods, he holds out his arms. “I could warm you up.”

Tony doesn’t even hesitate to step into his arms, burrowing his hands beneath Bucky’s jacket to wrap around his waist. Bucky holds him close, settling his hands low on Tony’s hips and resting his cheek against the little omega’s hair. This close, he can smell Tony beneath the scent blockers he always wears. He inhales deeply. Peaches and honeysuckle, his favorite scents.

“Omega,” he murmurs. “Pretty omega.”

“You never call me that,” Tony says just as softly, shivering slightly. Bucky wishes he could know if it’s because Tony’s cold or if he likes it.

“I could stop.”

Tony hesitates. “Don’t stop,” he whispers finally.

Bucky smiles into his hair and turns his head so that his lips just barely brush the top of his head. “Sweet omega,” he rumbles. Tony trembles in his arms. The band begins a waltz and he shifts on his feet. “Would you dance with me?” he asks. Tony nods, his cheek rubbing against Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky doesn’t move much, just moves so that one hand holds onto Tony’s. They’re still pressed together. He’s still resting his head against Tony’s. But they’re turning in place, breaths whispering in the still night air.

“Becca wants you to come for Christmas,” he says.

Tony tenses just slightly. “Can’t.”

“Why not?”

He can feel Tony shrug against his body. “Christmas is for family.”

“So you’re going home to Stark Mansion?”

Tony’s silent, not that it matters. Bucky already knows the answer. Tony left that life behind a long time ago. “You could come back with me,” Tony says eventually.

“Christmas is for family,” he parrots. Tony growls, the hand hidden in Bucky’s jacket clenching in his shirt. He decides he’s teased him long enough. “Don’t you know you’re family?”

Tony shakes his head. “Not like that. Not for Christmas.”

“Especially for Christmas.”

“Bucky, don’t tease,” Tony says quietly. He starts to push away.

Bucky panics. Somewhere, this has gone wrong. Somewhere, he’s made a mistake. It’s started to snow, big white flakes falling to coat the ground around them. “Don’t go,” he says desperately. “Let me start over.”

But Tony’s standing away from him now, wrapping his arms around himself like he’s trying to replace Bucky’s warmth. “What are we doing out here?” he asks. He can’t keep his eyes on Bucky, keeps darting them away to look at the hedges around them.

He doesn’t know where to begin, doesn’t know how to ask him if what Becca said was true. So instead he asks, “Why did you ask me to share your heat?”

Tony stills, gaze coming back to him. “Wha- that was years ago,” he says incredulously.

“I know,” Bucky says steadily. He falls to his knees, shuffles forward to take Tony’s hands in his. “Honey, I can’t stop thinking about it. Why did you ask me?”

Tony’s gaze darts away and then back. His eyes are wide and a little fearful. Bucky prays that he’s not the reason that Tony looks scared. The omega swallows hard before saying, “Ty broke up with me. I-I-”

“It was your heat, Tony. It would have been awful but you could have gone through your heat alone. I would have been there waiting after it was over.” He presses his forehead to Tony’s hands. “Omega,” he begins. “Pretty omega, my omega. Why did you ask me to share your heat?”

He looks back up then. Tony’s eyes are as bright with unshed tears as they were a few hours ago. “I wanted to,” Tony breathes. “Ty left me because he said he couldn’t be with an omega who loved someone else.”

Bucky takes in a shaky breath. “Loved?” he asks, hesitant to say anything but he has to know.

Tony looks about as wrecked as he feels as he slowly shakes his head. “Loves.”

The word’s little more than a sigh, barely louder than the wind in the hedges, but Bucky hears him clear as a bell.

He surges to his feet, one hand dropping Tony’s so he can catch his arm around Tony’s waist and reel him in. Tony’s now-free hand curls into the fabric of Bucky’s shirt. Bucky drops his head to press his forehead against Tony’s. This close, he can see the light dusting of freckles on Tony’s nose that the little omega tries so hard to pretend doesn’t exist.

“Honey, can I kiss you?” he asks, trying to tamp his desperation down. He doesn’t want to scare Tony. He can’t scare Tony. Tony’s precious and sweet and doesn’t deserve to be scared by a hulking alpha.

Tony flashes him a quick smile, bright as the sun. “Call me omega and we’ll see.”

He rubs his nose alongside the length of Tony’s. “Omega,” he rumbles, putting as much Alpha into his voice as he can. Tony shivers.

“Alpha,” Tony breathes and Bucky feels like roaring his triumph. “Yes.”

Their first kiss is little more than a brush of Bucky’s lips against Tony’s. “I love you,” he says, pulling back to drop a quick kiss to the tip of Tony’s nose. He presses another kiss to Tony’s lips, there and then pulling back. Tony’s eyes flutter closed on a soft sight and Bucky’s arrested by the sight of those long eyelashes against his cheek. His next kiss lands on Tony’s right eyelid. “Love those pretty Bambi eyes,” he says. Another fleeting kiss on Tony’s lips and then back to Tony’s left eyelid. “Love that pink blush on your cheeks.” Tony’s cheeks immediately heat. Bucky can’t resist placing his next kisses on each cheek, feeling the heat under his lips, before coming back to Tony’s pouting mouth. He’s there longer this time, placing quick teasing kisses on his lips, pulling back slightly, and then coming back, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Tony in his arms to stay away for long. “Love your perfect scent.” He buries his face in Tony’s neck, nuzzling into his scent glands. Happy omega is pouring off of him, filling the air with the smell of honeysuckle and peaches.

He fits his teeth around the gland and bites gently, not hard enough to spark a bond, just enough to tease. Tony goes limp against him, falling into his shoulder with a whimper. “I’ve got you, honey,” he says and presses a line of kisses up Tony’s throat to the corner of his mouth.

“Love you,” he says again, just because he can.

Tony smiles at him, bright as the sun, warming up the winter night. “I love you too.”

Bucky kisses his smiling mouth, firmly this time. He takes the omega’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on the soft flesh. When Tony gasps, he slides his tongue between his lips and licks inside. He pulls back to trace his tongue over the outline of the omega’s mouth, dips back in for another taste. Tony’s hand moves from his shirt to his arm, digging his fingers into his bicep. Bucky groans and hauls Tony even closer.

“Let me take you home,” he whispers, tearing his mouth away to suck at the smooth skin at the juncture between Tony’s neck and shoulder. “Let me lay you out on my bed, keep you safe, keep you warm.” He rolls his hips so Tony can feel just how hard he is. “Keep you full.”

Tony whines, hand clenching and unclenching. “Yes,” he says on a gasp as Bucky bites down. “Please.” Bucky takes his earlobe between his teeth and tugs. “Alpha.”

“My omega,” Bucky says. He drops his hand to where Tony’s ass meets his thighs and lifts. Tony immediately wraps his legs around his hips. “So perfect, honey.”

He carries Tony out of the labyrinth, kisses him quiet when Tony protests leaving without saying goodbye to Steve and Becca. “If I know them, they’re already gone,” he mutters. “’Sides, we’ll see ‘em in two days.” He takes a quick look at Tony’s blown pupils, the barest hint of omega gold around the edges. “Maybe.”

Bucky shifts on the front stoop for only a second before Tony slides his warm hand into his. “It’s just your family,” Tony points out.

“Yeah but I told Becca about Brock so she told everyone else so they’re all going to look at me like-”

“-you’re the luckiest alpha in the world,” Tony finishes. He reaches up with his other hand to thumb at the bondmark on Bucky’s neck.

“More like the stupidest,” he mutters. He bends down to drop a quick kiss on the tip of Tony’s nose. “Coulda had this years ago.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “Don’t know why you like my nose so much.”

“Your freckles, honey. I like your freckles.” He presses another quick kiss to the side of Tony’s head. “Even if I can’t see ‘em under that foundation you wear.”

Tony preens. “Well, that’s okay then.”

“Love you,” Bucky says and presses one more kiss to Tony’s lips. Tony mews and opens for his tongue. Bucky indulges in Tony’s taste for only another second before pulling away. “Pretty omega.”

Tony blinks his eyes back open, hazy and dreamlike. “Love you too.”

“Yes, yes you both love each other,” Becca says dryly. She snickers as they jump apart.

“When did you open the door?” Bucky demands.

“Too early. You two are gross, look like two seals wrestling over a grape.”

Tony sniffs haughtily. “It isn’t like you and Steve were much better,” he begins but Bucky presses his fingers against his bondmark and he falls silent with nothing more than a quiet whimper.

Becca watches the byplay with a tiny smirk before casually saying, “Are you just going to stand there the entire time or are you going to come inside? You’re letting all the cold air in.”

“Come inside,” Bucky says promptly and shoves her aside.

“Dickhead,” Becca snaps.

He replies cheerfully, “Fuckface,” and drops Tony’s hand to pull her into a tight hug and mess up her perfectly styled hair.

“Glad to have you back,” Becca mutters sullenly. She hesitates. “Better Christmas this year?”

Bucky looks at where Tony’s flounced off to the kitchen, probably to wheedle cookies off his mother. At the door to the kitchen, he pauses and looks back at Bucky to blow him a kiss. He smiles fondly. “Much.”

#winteriron #mcu #alle writes #heamarvel

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