#how much i can’t stand that they got away with it and how much i want vengeance on them

[nezuscribe]

gryffindor!gojo now has come to the sensible conclusion that you despise him.

you roll your eyes whenever he jokes. you look away when he comes near you. you whisper something your friends that makes him laugh whenever he says something stupid in class. and had it been anyone else he wouldn’t mind. but for some reason, he minds when it’s you.

and despite the fact that he’s racked through his mind to think about why, he can’t come up with anything.

but he thinks he gets a little closer to cracking your cold exterior when on an equally cold day he finds you waiting outside the transfiguration room, shivering, waiting for some of your friends. when you see him walking nearer you grumble something under your breath.

“cold?” he asks with a tilt in his voice, his blue eyes gleaming as he stops in front of you. your shivering, arms wrapped around your body as your teeth chatter. you glare up at him in annoyance.

“i’m actually a bit warm,” you mutter sarcastically resting your shoulder on the wall as you look away from him.

he takes this time to admire your features. the slope of your nose and the flutter of your lashes. had you not hated his guts he might’ve found you cute.

“you fancy a trip to madame pomfrey?” gojo asks and you snort.

you’re only wearing a sweater, clearly not anticipating the halls to be so cold. gojo stares at you a little longer, and you feel a little bit of heat rise to your cheeks.

“i should pay you for how much you stare,” you murmur, “an hourly rate.”

gojo smiles a little bit. at least you’re talking a little more now.

he goes to unbutton his robe, his nimble fingers working fast as they unhook the buttons from their hooks. you watch in silence as he shrugs it off of his shoulders, holding it towards you.

you look at him in confusion, brows furrowed and lips drawn in perplexity.

“i’ve got enough layers,” gojo says with a shrug, forcing the cloak towards you, not liking how still you’re staying.

he can see the fight in your eyes the way you look from his outstretched arm to his face and then back to the cloak. he sees how much you want to give in, to just give up for once.

but you shake your head, looking away from him.

“i’d rather freeze to death,” you say, looking at the transfiguration door swing open as students came pouring out.

you don’t glance at him as you make your way to your friends, a genuine smile making its way on your face as you greet them.

and gojo stands there, with his cloak in his hands, in silence. and then the silence brews. the olive branches he’s extended for no reason going up in flames as his usual happy demeanor cracks and a scowl makes its way into his face,

your feeling is now mutual.

[kamitv]

▷ Holiday Headcanons

Synopsis . Things your jjk partner does during the holidays! / Pairings . (Separate) Gojo x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Sukuna x f!reader, Ino x f!reader, Yuki x f!reader, Shoko x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, established relationships, modern au, fluff, creampies, soft sex, rough sex, filth, breeding, bondage, choking, oral sex, praise, dirty talk, sfw content, etc . / wc . idk ngl...!

A/N: Merry Christmas Ladies & Gentlemen! This isn’t proofread so please excuse any errors. Thank you guys sm for 7k on this account!! I hope you all have a wonderful day/night!! <33 [MDNI]

❅ Gojo Satoru

NSFW

Who's first present to you comes early in the morning at the ass crack of dawn, consisting of his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear as he rasps a needy plead—aching to get a taste of you to start his Christmas off "properly."

Naturally, you let Gojo get what he wants since that’s one less gift you have to worry about. That, and it’s a gift that just keeps on giving because as soon as he’s settled in between your legs, he’s smiling from ear to ear and swallowing down the drool that threatens to spill past his eager lips.

And when he finally latches that heavenly mouth of his onto you? Oh it’s over. He’s so glad he woke up early for this because nothing could pull him away from the honeyed slick of your cunt at this very moment—not even the perfectly wrapped presents awaiting the two of you just out in your shared living room.

Part of what has him so feral once his tongue is on you is probably the lacy festive blue panties you decided to sleep with. They match his eyes and there’s this pretty bow in the center… unfortunately, he was too caught up on trying to get your pussy against his tongue to admire the fabric longer. Now the garment lays in tatters just a few inches away from your quivering legs that dangle so prettily over his shoulders.

SFW

Had a snowball fight with you seconds after the first speck of white came falling from the sky.

Who spent weeks making sure that every inch of your shared home was adorned in pretty festive decorations.

Has literally bought you all that you couldn't think of and more for the special day. Gift after gift awaits you in that overly decorated living room of yours.

Adores this day and season because he has another excuse to spoil the fuck out of you. It’s no big deal that he bought you a vacation home or two… right? And the three vehicles he purchased were only necessary since you’d mentioned how much you liked them one time (around six months ago or something—not that he kept track or anything…) as the model drove by…

❅ Geto Suguru

NSFW

With Suguru, it’s actually you who’s extra freaky around Christmas. Sure, you love the festivities and everything but what/who do you love even more than that? Your husband. Or, more specifically, the thick cock he gifts you with all year long.

How could you not spend Christmas night with Geto’s dick sliding in and out of your mouth—having told him some measly excuse about how the mistletoe is hanging in the back of your throat this year and there’s only one way to share a kiss beneath it properly..!

Your glossy eyes remain up on his darkened purple ones and he looks so fucking grateful to have you. Geto stands with parted lips and bated breath as he watches you use that slutty mouth of yours to worship every inch of his pretty cock. You’ve got drool and spit dripping all down your chin but you don’t seem to have a care in the world. Hell, you probably don’t even have a thought in that cockdrunk head of yours right now either.

Geto even tries to pull himself out of your mouth (so he can catch a small break) only for you to let off a needy whine of his name and chase after him—latching your lips and tongue onto his oh-so-sensitive drooling tip just to suckle on him like you can’t function properly without his cock resting against your lips (and hey, maybe you can’t).

SFW

Impresses your parents on Christmas day flawlessly with the most perfect gifts for them (he unintentionally outdoes your gifts).

Spoils you like crazy with more than just gifts by being at your beck and call a bit more than usual. He’s always attentive but on Christmas he seems to he even moreso than normal.

Who lets you style his hair however you want with ribbons and bows while actively wearing a poorly made Christmas sweater the two of you made the year prior to the current.

Loves playing Christmas themed games with you because they remind him of playing games with Satoru (who occasionally joins the two of you around this time). You’re just as competitive as he is and even the most simple games turn into full on competitive events between the two of you.

❅ Toji Fushiguro

NSFW

It’s not until Christmas night that you get your real present from Mr. Fushiguro, your doting husband of God knows how many years now.

Watching you care and love on Megumi and Tsumiki all day was just the push he needed to later want to fuck yet another child into that gorgeous body of yours.

It started off as him being all soft with you, giving you that big bear hug from behind as he murmured into your ear—asking you if you enjoyed this year’s Christmas ‘n whatnot… only to lead to him casually suggesting that you two make the family a bit larger. Later rasping into your ear again, this time while you’re folded into a mind-numbing mating press, about how it’s time to give you your last present of the day.

His cock is throbbing more than normal too, whole body tense with a coarse mix of lust and love that he has for you. Oh how he could never truly get over the sight of you all under him like this with your eyes flickering back, nails clawing against his skin, and sweet softened moans of his name spilling from your lips.

It’s not long before the headboard is making not-so-subtle taps against the wall as he loses himself within the warm gushing depths of your cunt, fat cockhead only swelling more and more when you have the gall to utter the words, “Y-Yeah.. hnngh, fuck another b-baby into me, Toji,” And who ever is he to deny you of such a request?

SFW

Spends most of the day trying to bite back his smile as he watched his two kids open presents you bought for them. Their eyes light up with each gift and Toji’s poor heart only flutters with that uncomfortable warmth of love he can never quite get used to.

Keeps his best poker face on when Tsumiki and Megumi give him a gift. Toji tries to act like the little family drawing the two kids made doesn’t mean anything to him, going as far as laughing at how wonky the artwork is and everything but… the drawing is stuck onto the fridge the very second after the kids turn their head away from him and if anyone paid close enough attention to the big softie—they would’ve spotted his eyes glossing over ever so slightly.

You always get him the best gifts. Or at least, that’s what Toji tells you. Whether it be cologne or simply just a plate of Christmas breakfast in the morning—the man swears his wife outdoes herself every year. What would he do without you?

Doesn’t care too much for the snow but seeing you build snowmen and make snow-angels with his kids will always make him stand out in the crisp cold air for moments longer than he normally ever would. Usually with a hot cup of coffee in his hand, standing all mysteriously and brooding by the front door of your shared home as he watches you three run around and make fools of yourself—anyone who looks at him at the right second would catch a little grin quirking against those scared lips of his.

❅ Sukuna Ryomen

NSFW

As soon as the clock strikes twelve and Christmas has hit, he’s grabbing every red ribbon of fabric in the vicinity and wrapping his most important present (you) up to his liking.

Sukuna just loves seeing you tied up, especially on Christmas Day. One year he had your arms box-tied at your arched back as your cheeks were buried down into the sheets and his rough tattooed hands scaled along each exposed sliver of your skin. You were, quite literally, his prettiest present every year.

Sometimes you surprised him and tied yourself up in a new way—the sight never once failing to make his cock spring up. Oh and when he fucks you while you’re all tied up? He loses his mind every single time. Which is part of why he doesn’t do this all year long.

Christmas is the only day of the year where he really goes above and beyond with the whole bondage thing. Truth be told, seeing your fingers wiggle for touch and your body twitching for a moment of release as he fucks you to tears is one of his biggest and sole weaknesses in the world. It’s so sexy—especially with the cries of his name that follows along with the pleasing for him to let you touch his body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on the way you always try wiggling away from him while your limbs are bound, no matter the position. The face you make, the way your cunt spasms—you do it every single time you’re about to cum for the nth time and it drives him fucking insane. Suddenly he can’t help but bully his angry cock into that sensitive sappy spot inside you that you’re so desperately trying to pull away from…

SFW

Definitely dresses up as the Grinch just to terrorize his child nephew, Yuji—who he knows you adore more than anything.

Yeah, you thought it was odd when you woke up on Christmas morning and your husband was nowhere to be found but when you made your way downstairs alongside a five or six year old Yuji to get the morning started… here comes your husband dressed in that iconic furred green suit and red coat—invoking a shriek from the poor boy beside you as he watched his uncle snatch up all the presents from beneath the Christmas tree.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or scold the man in the moment but either way, the event was memorable nonetheless. In Sukuna’s mind, nothing will ever beat the widening of your eyes and the dramatics that brat beside you displayed over some toys being snatched up.

He’ll never ever say it out loud to anyone aside from you but, he actually quite enjoys Christmas. Or, he has enjoyed it ever since you made him watch The Grinch—hence his antics surrounding the character. Hell, his first comment about that movie was something along the lines of, “Hah. I like the way this guy thinks already.”

Mind you, you were barely even half an hour in.

❅ Ino Takuma

NSFW

On Christmas, it’s just you and him this year so… after all the literal gifts have been opened and all the sweet things have been exchanged……. Ino’s offering his body to you entirely.

Mid-day, you swear you left him in your bedroom for hardly even five minutes only to return to his legs sprawled apart and his hard cock exposed & decorated with a cute bow wrapped around his hefty base. Then his hands are tied behind his back—part of you wondering how he even managed to do that in such a short period of time..

His brown hair is all tousled and his breathing is unsteady already. You’ve seen and felt every inch of him time and time before but offering himself ip to you like this was oh so embarrassing for the poor man. The instant your eyes fall onto his cock, his tip leaks in a messy slip of pre.

Ino can only take a deep breath and try to work up his confidence just to weigh his head to the side and lift a brow, “Well, baby? Merry Christmas. Come unwrap your final present…”

SFW

Ino loves going out with you durning the holiday season. Especially ice skating—even if you’re good or bad at it, he loves being out there on the ice with you.

Something about laughing in the cold until your cheeks burn makes his heart throb within his chest. Ino loves spending this season with you because he swears every small moment feels like a movie when he’s with you.

He definitely still leaves out cookies and milk for Santa and will debate with you for hours on end about how the guy is 100% real.

Goes, “Aww, babbyyyyy..” to literally each and every single gift you give him, soon followed by a sweet, “You didn’t have to get this for mee..!” He’s not ungrateful or anything but, even though you’re his girlfriend of like two years now, he’ll never quite get used to receiving gifts from you & he’s too damn humble for his own good.

❅ Yuki Tsukumo

NSFW

You make the ‘mistake’ of gifting her a strap for Christmas and she makes good use of it that same night.

Practically every position you can imagine & be stretched into—she’s got you in. You always knew your girlfriend had some mean hips on her but when she’s got this lengthy cock strapped onto those hips and she just working the thick ‘n hard inches of the plastic inside you at a brutal pace, you can’t even breathe properly enough to respond to her little comments of, “Aw, look at my girll… takin’ all of me so well, aren’t you pretty?”

Teasing you too with huffs of, “This is the best gift ever, cutie. I mean, hah..” She’d flash that knowing sexy grin of hers, “Jus’ look at this pussy—I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this wet before.”

You’re not too sure if you regret the purchase or if it’s the best thing you’ve ever bought for the woman but either way; in return for buying her that damn strap, Yuki gifts you with the meanest backshots not too long after opening her gift. She’s gotta make sure it works, right?

Hand around your throat, tipping your head back, lustful eye contact, heavy pants of your name, and praises pouring from her blush pink lips—Yuki’s probably never letting this gift go to waste.

SFW

She’s competitive so around this time of year, any winter spot imaginable… you’re playing or participating in with her (and probably losing).

Who loves making snow angels with you and then comparing the sized of the two, making fun of yours even if it were only the slightest bit smaller than her own.

Goes on these insane morning runs with shorts on ‘n everything. You find her bizarre for it and almost died the one time she’d convinced you to go on one with her.

Both of you would definitely give each other the same number of gifts literally every year. It’s always unintentional and completely coincidental but for whatever reason, if you got ten gifts: she got ten. If she got thirty, you got thirty. Even if you got one, she somehow got one as well. It’s silly but it keeps happening and both of you assume it’s the world’s way of telling you you’re perfect for one another.

❅ Shoko Ieiri

NSFW

Ties a bow around her middle and ring finger and gives you this smirk that leads to literally everything else.

It’d be after gifts have been opened and stories have been shared that she’s out by the fireplace with you, knuckle deep in your cunt as your sweet slick trickles down her slender fingers and coats the fabric she has around her digits.

Who doesn’t ever get tired of fingering you and never ever fails to amaze you because somehow her hands never seem to cramp up on her (or maybe that’s just from the years she spent with you but who knows..).

Once she’s satisfied with getting you off numerous times, Shoko will tell you that there’s another bow she wants you to find. That’s how you end up in between her pretty legs, tugging a lacey red bow that was tired around her upper thigh down her leg. And from there, it’s only fair that you enjoy your Christmas dessert that’s presented so deliciously in front of you—especially when she takes those two fingers from earlier and spreads herself open for you. The drool from her cunt matches the drool from your lips—how cute.

SFW

Building snowmen with you is something she cant get enough of. Especially considering the time you both built one another and you’d given her a small stick to resemble the cigarette she’s always got lodged in between her lips.

Who loves going to new cafes with you around this time for whatever reason. Something about the cold just makes her want to try all sorts of different warm beverages and who better to go try these things with than her loving wife?

Goes on a Christmas movie marathon with you because your presence during movies alone is enough to make her heart flutter.

You got her a pack of cigarettes one year as a joke but she actually appreciated it more than you realized. This was earlier on in your relationship and that gift was part of what motivated her to want to quit smoking (well, that & she’d like to live by your side for as long as possible).

❅ Choso Kamo

NSFW

Fucking his cum into you for a few hours is as good as any other gift he’s given you, right? Especially after seeing how you are around his brothers—so kind and doting, you’d make the perfect mother.

Hence the incoherent mutters of Choso wanting you to have his child later that night. All you did was give him the lovestruck look when he suggested it and it was over from there. He couldn’t stop himself from bending you in all sorts of positions, angling his hips into you perfecting and moaning about how desperately he needs you to take everything he gives you.

Who can’t even think straight when you look him in the eyes and praise him for how good he’s funking you—not that this is new or anything… But then you started teasing him. “C’mon Cho, r-right there. Gimme one more, fuck me nice ‘n full—mmgh..” Oh, you were sure to be the cause of his death that night.

He sees white by the time he cums again, something he’ll later tease you about with a stupidly unserious comment of, “Guess we really did have a white Christmas after all, huh?”

SFW

It’s winter so whenever you two walk together, he takes your hand, holds it tightly, and then pulls it into his pocket as the two of you walk together.

Who kinda adores the snow and cold weather for the simple fact that it hides how much he blushes around you and gives him a new excuse to use.

Loves seeing the happy look on your fave when you open presents, it makes him fall for you even harder and all he wants to do is provide the whole world and more just to keep that expression on your face.

Spends most of the holiday with his brothers and majority of his paychecks around this time are blown on providing gifts for his siblings—many purchases made without even so much as a price check beforehand.

❅ Nanami Kento

NSFW

Cooking Christmas dinner ends up with you either bent over the counter or spread out on top of the counter every year. Nanami basically calls it tradition at this point. He just has to have you instead of focusing on finishing the meal set for Christmas day.

And what makes it so much better is that Nanami also uses this time to reveal how much he’s into food play. The man can’t help but want to lick some sort of frosting or cream (aside from his own) up off of your soft skin. Swearing everything tastes better when it’s eaten off of you.

Or, sometimes Nanami claims that pistoning his sharp hips into you while you’re bent over the counter helps him focus on reading the recipe to whatever he’s making. Apparently your moans keep him focused on the task at hand (literally) and each clench of your cunt around his thick shaft make his senses sharper (his words not mine…).

That, and there’s nothing more fun than leaving a cliche powdered handprint on the fat of your ass after a couple smacks in between his rough thrusts. You find his ability to multitask insane. He’s fucking your legs to complete mush and yet baking a cake at the same time like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Not to mention the way he’ll have you suck a taste test off of his fingers just to hear you moan out a stuttered response of how good it tastes.

SFW

Nanami is the best gift giver, naturally. Okay, yeah, you mentioned this item once as you were describing to him a dream you had like three years ago before the two of you were even together but who caresss, right? It’s not his fault he has such a sharp memory and has hung off of your every word for as long as he’s known you…

One thing your husband loves to do around this time is slow dance with you to some classical Christmas music. It feels sappy and sweet—swaying with the love of his life as joyful steady music flitters within the air.

He definitely cannot wait to have children with you because he sees the way your face lights up as you watch children durning the holidays. Their laughter is so pure and really brings the Christmas spirit into the hearts of anyone nearby.

Who doesn’t go crazy with decorations or anything but he will have one absurdly large tree with a ridiculous number of ornaments just because.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Just How Fast The Night Changes.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist.

in which, your out at a christmas market with your friends, you end up hurting yourself on the ice rink, resulting in you going to the hospital, where your fiance is doing the night shift.

word count - 3.1k

authors note - hi everyone! hope your all doing okay, just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who wished me well, im feeling much better and couldn’t wait to get back to writing for you all. enjoy huns. 🩵

Winter Wonderland was one of your favourite places to go to.

The air was crisp, nipping at your cheeks, and fairy lights are strung above like a canopy of stars, casting everything in a soft golden glow.

There’s the faint sound of Christmas carols playing somewhere, blending with the delighted shouts of children and the soft murmur of conversations.

The smell of roasted chestnuts and sweet cinnamon drifts through the air, and the ice rink is at the heart of it all, glowing an icy blue under the lights.

You’ve never been ice skating before,so you don’t know why you let Lauren talk you into taking part.

Your fingers are clutching the edge of the rink like it’s a lifeline, knuckles white as you attempt to shuffle forward. Your legs wobble beneath you, and your skates feel like they’re made of jelly instead of blades.

"Come on, you’re doing fine!" Lauren says, her voice full of encouragement. She’s gripping your hand tightly, her fingers warm despite the cold.

She’s only slightly steadier than you are, but at least she’s moving without needing the barrier.

“I am not doing fine,” you reply, your voice shaky as your foot slides unexpectedly and you lurch forward. Lauren pulls you back upright, laughing.

“You’re still standing. That’s a win,” she says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Her laughter is warm, and somehow it makes you laugh, too, despite the fact that you’re fairly certain you’re about to end up on the ice any second.

The ice rink is alive with movement around you. Experienced skaters glide by effortlessly, spinning and weaving through the crowd like dancers, their scarves trailing behind them.

Meanwhile, a group of kids to your left are shrieking with laughter as they tumble over each other in a heap, only to scramble back up and try again.

You look down at your feet, trying to muster the courage to let go of the side.

“How are you not falling every two seconds?” you ask, eyeing Lauren suspiciously.

She grins.

“Years of rollerblading as a kid,” she admits. “But trust me, I’m no pro. Just don’t overthink it—bend your knees a little, and try to glide.”

You nod, trying to follow her advice. Your knees bend slightly, and you release the edge for a split second. It feels like flying—for exactly half a second—before your foot slips and you grab the barrier again, your heart pounding.

Lauren’s laugh rings out again, but it’s never mean.

“Okay, okay,” she says, steadying you.

“Baby steps. I’ve got you.” She pulls you gently forward, her grip on your hand solid.

Somehow, with Lauren’s guidance and a lot of laughter, you manage a few shaky steps away from the edge.

You’re still wobbling, your arms flailing like a baby bird trying to take flight, but you’re moving.

The world around you feels magical, even with your nerves and the ache already forming in your ankles. Snowflakes begin to fall softly, catching the light as they drift down. You glance at Lauren, her face lit up with joy, and you can’t help but smile.

“See?” she says, beaming at you. “You’re doing it!”

“I’m barely surviving,” you reply, but you’re laughing now, the kind of laugh that feels like it comes straight from your chest.

And just like that, your left foot slips out from under you, and suddenly you’re falling backward.

It happens so fast that you don’t even have time to brace yourself. The cold, unforgiving ice meets your arm and hip with a jarring thud, the shock of it knocking the breath from your lungs.

Pain shoots up your arm immediately, sharp and searing, and you can feel tears springing to your eyes before you can stop them.

“Are you okay?!” Lauren is beside you in an instant, dropping to her knees on the ice. Her hands hover uncertainly, not wanting to hurt you further as you cradle your arm. “Talk to me—what hurts?”

You wince, sucking in a shaky breath.

“My arm. It—oh, it really hurts, Lozza.” Your voice is trembling, a mixture of shock and pain making it hard to focus.

A concerned voice interrupts.

“Do you need help?” It’s a passerby, a woman in a red scarf who’s skated over to check on you.

She glances over her shoulder and waves for someone. “I’ll get an ice marshal.”

Everything feels blurry after that, the sounds around you a mix of laughter and skating blades against ice, clashing with the sharp ache radiating from your arm.

Lauren stays right by your side, her voice soft but firm as she reassures you. “It’s okay, help’s coming. You’re going to be okay.”

An ice marshal arrives within moments, dressed in a bright yellow jacket that makes them easy to spot.

They crouch beside you, their expression serious but calm.

“Hi,” they say, their tone professional but kind. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I—I fell,” you manage, the words catching in your throat. “Landed on my arm. It hurts a lot.”

The marshal nods, their gaze assessing as they look at your arm, though you’re still clutching it close to your body.

“Okay, I see you’re in a lot of pain,” they say. “We’re going to get you some help. I think we need to call an ambulance to check this out, just to be safe.”

Hearing the word “ambulance” makes your stomach flip, and the tears spill over, unbidden. Lauren immediately scoots closer, putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she says softly, her voice steady and warm, like an anchor in the chaos. “They’re just being cautious. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

The ice marshal steps away briefly to make the call, and you can hear them relaying details to the dispatcher. Meanwhile, Lauren stays with you, her knees probably freezing against the ice, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“I feel so stupid,” you mumble, the tears still flowing.

“Don’t,” Lauren says firmly. “This could happen to anyone. Besides, you were doing amazing—I mean, up until this part.”

She gives you a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. It works, if only a little.

The waiting feels both endless and too quick. People around you keep glancing over, their curiosity clear, but Lauren glares at anyone who stares too long.

“Nothing to see here,” she mutters under her breath, making you snort despite the pain.

When the paramedics arrive, they move with practiced efficiency, asking questions, checking your arm, and gently placing it in a makeshift sling before helping you off the ice and onto a stretcher. Lauren is right behind you, her hand never leaving yours until they load you into the ambulance.

Harry was sitting at his desk in the bustling emergency department, pen in hand as he worked through a stack of paperwork.

The hum of the hospital surrounded him—phones ringing, monitors beeping, and the occasional burst of hurried footsteps.

He was focused, brows furrowed in concentration, when a nurse approached him.

“Dr. Styles?” she said, her tone gentle but urgent.

Harry glanced up, his professional demeanor shifting slightly at the nurse’s expression.

“Yes?” he said, setting his pen down.

“It’s about your fiancée,” she began, her voice careful. “She’s just been brought in. A suspected arm injury from a fall. She’s stable, but she’s in a lot of pain.”

His heart stopped for a moment, then kicked into overdrive. He was on his feet before she even finished speaking. “Where is she?”

The nurse motioned down the hall. “She’s in Room 14. I’ll take you to her.”

Harry turned to the head of the department, who had been standing nearby, observing the exchange.

“Go,” they said with a nod, understanding immediately. “We’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quickly, already moving to follow the nurse.

As he walked, his mind raced. He knew this hospital inside and out, every corridor, every turn, but now the route to Room 14 felt impossibly long.

The thought of you being in pain, of you lying there alone and scared, made his chest tighten. He was usually so composed, so steady under pressure, but this was different.

This was you.

His darling.

The nurse glanced back at him as they neared the room, her pace slowing.

“She’s alert and talking, but she’s shaken up,” she said. “An x-ray has been done we’re just waiting for the results, but the arm looks like it might be fractured.”

Harry nodded, his jaw clenching as he processed the information. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needed to be calm for you, reassuring, even though his heart was pounding in his chest.

As they reached the door to Room 14, the nurse stepped aside, motioning for him to go in. Harry hesitated for half a second, his hand resting on the doorframe. He could hear the faint murmur of your voice inside, and the sound sent a wave of both relief and worry through him.

He pushed the door open, stepping inside.

You’re sitting on the hospital bed, your good arm clutching the blanket draped over your lap.

A nurse is patiently trying to insert an IV into your injured arm, but you keep squirming away, your breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

“Please, no, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “I hate needles—I really hate them.”

The nurse, clearly used to this sort of reaction, gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s scary, but this will help with the pain. We’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“No,” you insist, pulling your arm back again despite the throb of pain shooting through it. “I—I can’t. Just give me pills or something. I don’t need the IV.”

The door opens suddenly, and your heart skips a beat when you see Harry stride into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His hair is slightly messy from a long shift, and his brow is furrowed with concern.

“M’love,” he says, his voice soft but urgent as he crosses the room in a few quick steps. “S’going on?”

The nurse straightens up and explains, “She’s scared of the IV, Doctor Styles. We’re trying to administer some pain relief, but she’s very nervous.”

Harry’s face softens as he looks at you, crouching down so he’s eye level.

“Hey, s’okay. M’ here now,” he says gently, reaching for your free hand. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “The IV’s going to help. I know it’s scary, but you’re so much stronger than you think.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t, H. I really can’t. It’s too much.”

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly but lovingly, leaning closer. “I promise it’ll be over before you know it, and I’ll be right here the whole time. You won’t even have to look at it, okay? Just look at me.”

His free hand comes up to rest gently against your cheek, his touch grounding you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his green eyes searching yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, his lips twitching into a small, reassuring smile. He straightens up and glances at the nurse. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll keep her calm.”

The nurse nods and moves closer again, preparing the IV. Harry shifts, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently against him so your head rests against his neck.

“Just focus on me,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His fingers thread through your hair in soft, repetitive strokes. “You’re doing so well, love. You’ve got this. Deep breaths for me, yeah? In…and out.”

You close your eyes, your tears soaking into his shirt as you follow his lead, breathing in time with him.

“Almost there,” the nurse says, her voice calm. “You’re doing great.”

Harry keeps talking to you, his voice a steady stream of comfort. “Remember that time we went to the beach, and you got all excited about finding those tiny crabs in the tide pools? You weren’t scared then. You were brave. You’re brave now, too.”

You let out a shaky laugh despite yourself, clinging to the warmth of his words. Before you know it, the nurse says, “All done.”

“See?” Harry says, pulling back slightly to look at you, his fingers still in your hair. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

You glance down at your arm, surprised to see the IV already taped in place. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Harry confirms, a smile tugging at his lips. “Easiest thing in the world for someone as tough as you.”

You manage a small, sheepish smile, leaning into him as the nurse adjusts the IV drip. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could’ve,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you don’t have to do it alone. That’s why I’m here.”

And in that moment, despite the pain and the fear, you feel safe.

The nurse finishes adjusting the IV drip and gives you both a warm smile.

“All set. The doctor will be here shortly with the results of your X-ray,” she says. “I’ll give you two some privacy in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, nodding at her as she steps out of the room, pulling the curtain half-closed behind her.

As soon as she’s gone, Harry pulls the chair closer to your bedside and takes your uninjured hand in both of his. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles over your skin, his eyes scanning your face.

“Okay,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “Now, tell me what happened. And don’t say, ‘It’s nothing,’ because you’re here with an IV in your arm, and that’s definitely not nothing.”

You let out a small sigh, your voice still shaky. “Lauren and I were at Winter Wonderland, and we decided to try ice skating.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Ice skating? You’ve never been ice skating in your life.”

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “That’s why it went so badly. I was clinging to the side the whole time, but then I tried to let go, and my foot slipped. I landed on my arm.”

Harry winces, his hand tightening around yours for a moment. “That must’ve hurt like hell.”

“It did,” you admit, your voice quiet. “But honestly, I think the embarrassment hurt more. Everyone was staring, and Lauren was trying to help, but then someone called over an ice marshal, and—”

“Wait, an ice marshal?” Harry interrupts, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “That sounds way too official for a skating accident.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Tell me about it. Anyway, they called an ambulance, and Lauren stayed with me the whole time. She was amazing, but I just kept thinking how ridiculous I must’ve looked.”

Harry’s expression softens again, his humor giving way to a deeper concern. He leans forward, his voice low and steady. “Hey, listen to me. You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Accidents happen, especially when you’re trying something new. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse—and that you’ve got good people like Lauren looking out for you.”

Speaking of Lauren, she was most likely speaking to the paramedics that brought you in, she definitely found him good looking.

You nod, biting your lip. “I still feel a bit stupid, though.”

“Don’t,” he says firmly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You’re human, love. And now I have a good excuse to keep you off the ice forever.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile that forms. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan of ice skating either?”

“Not even a little,” he admits with a grin. “But I would’ve held your hand out there, just like Lauren did—though I probably would’ve fallen right along with you.”

You laugh softly, the warmth of his words easing some of the tension in your chest. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

The curtain pulls back, and the doctor steps in, holding a clipboard. She’s wearing a calm, reassuring smile as she approaches.

“Hello,” she says, glancing between you and Harry. “We’ve looked at your X-rays, and I’ve got some answers for you.”

You sit up a little straighter, your stomach twisting nervously. “Okay…”

“You’ve got a hairline fracture on your radius,” she explains, tapping a spot on the diagram attached to her clipboard. “It’s not severe, but it does mean you’ll need to have your arm in a cast to protect it while it heals. We’ll get that set up for you shortly, and it should come off in about six weeks.”

You let out a long sigh, slumping back against the pillow. “Six weeks?”

The doctor nods sympathetically. “I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s important to let the bone heal properly. You’ll need to avoid heavy lifting, and we’ll give you instructions for keeping the cast dry and comfortable.”

You nod, but your mind is already spinning. “So…that means I’ll have a cast over Christmas?”

The realization makes your heart sink a little.

You picture yourself struggling to wrap presents, trying to cook with one arm, and navigating all the holiday traditions you love with this big, awkward thing on your arm.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor adds, noticing your reaction. “A lot of people find they get used to it faster than they expect. And six weeks will go by before you know it.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Harry says, his voice steady and polite.

As the doctor leaves to prepare the materials for your cast, Harry turns back to you, his green eyes sparkling with determination.

“Alright,” he says, pulling his chair even closer. “This is not a big deal. In fact, we’re going to make it fun.”

“Fun?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “How is having a cast fun?”

Harry leans forward, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Because I’m going to be the first to sign it. Big, bold letters, right across the top.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite your frustration. “And what are you going to write?”

“Oh, something sentimental,” he says with a mock-serious tone. “Like, ‘To the most amazing ice skater I know.’ Or maybe just, ‘Next time, use bubble wrap.’”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, the weight of the situation starting to feel a little lighter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am,” he agrees, leaning closer to kiss your temple. “But I’m also going to make sure this is the best Christmas you’ve ever had—even if you’re stuck with a cast.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap protectively around you. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Always,” he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair again. “Now, let’s get this cast on, and then we’ll figure out how to turn it into a masterpiece of modern art. Sound good?”

[huntingingoodwill]

civil. (j.m.)

masterlist

desc: you can’t stand joel miller, and he can’t stand you.

pairing: enemies to lovers! joel miller x gn! reader

a/n: this is my gift for the pedrostories secret santa 2024 event!!! i had so much fun writing this for my giftee, @adora-but-ginger. thanks so much for introducing me to the absolute bop which is never let me down by depeche mode which inspired this lil fic. i really hope you enjoy it babes <3 happy holidays!

“You’re an idiot. A big, hulking idiot.” 

“You think I’m big and hulking?”

You could hear the smirk in Joel’s voice, which made equal parts of anger and embarrassment flare up inside of you. You could admit he was… well-built. Sickeningly, disgustingly so. And right now, you wanted to snap his well-built body in two. 

“I’m going to kill you.”  

“I’d like to see you try, but we’re a little tied up at the moment,” his tone was sardonic, his meaning literal - the two of you were in the bed of some raiders’ truck, tied up and blindfolded, being driven to who-knows-where. It was probably for the best, as the restraints around your wrists were the only things stopping you two from choking each other out. 

“And whose fault is that?” you hissed. 

“I’m glad you asked. Yours.” 

“Mine?!” you exclaimed, the anger pulsing through you growing stronger by the minute. “I told you we should avoid the cabin and you still dragged us right into this mess.” 

Joel had insisted the abandoned cabin would be a safe place to rest. The raiders had the same idea, and were quick to pounce on the both of you after coming across your horses outside. They had ambushed the two of you, deciding to bring you back to their camp to figure out what to do with you later - probably nothing too pleasant. They had left your horses behind, and you had overheard them saying they’d come back for them later. 

“Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep when you were supposed to be on lookout, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Joel muttered. 

You sighed, a dull knot of ache forming behind your eyes. It was true. You had fucked up. But he had fucked up too. If it were anybody else with you, the two of you may have been able to admit that, kiss and make up. But you and Joel never got along. You bickered and fought on every patrol you were forced on together, and this was your last straw. You were livid, and he was too. 

“We wouldn’t have been there in the first place if you didn’t-“ 

“Enough with the goddamn lover’s quarrel!” one of the raiders yelled out from the cab. 

That shut you and Joel up sufficiently, but that word tinged the silence with a shy awkwardness. 

“Lover’s quarrel,” Joel scoffed. 

“Yeah. ‘Lovers’,” you mimic his veneer of nonchalance, poorly veiling the flustered tone in both your voices, “in your dreams.” 

“In yours,” he shot back, immediately rolling his eyes at himself. 

He was too old for this shit. Everytime he was around you, he acted like a petty teenager. You just ignited a flame within him, one that he mistook for the bitter burn of loathing, not knowing it was something else entirely. 

“So, how are we getting out of this one?” you whispered. 

“Why are you asking me? I thought I was an idiot?”

“I wish you could see the look I’m giving you right now, Miller.” 

He lowered his voice to a whisper, unheard by the raiders up front over the rumble of the engine. 

“Admit I’m not an idiot, and I’ll get us out of here.” 

“Oh, come on-“ you started, gritting your teeth with exasperation.

“Or, you can always spend the rest of the day with our new friends here.”

“...You’re not an idiot.” 

“And, who’s in charge?” 

“Oh, fuck y-” 

“I can always let you hitch a ride with these guys and see how you fare on your own,” his voice took on an annoyingly laissez-faire quality. You hated him.

“You’re in charge,” you assented.

“Correct. I hid my knife in my pocket. They missed it when they took away our weapons.” 

Maybe you didn’t hate him.

“Maybe you’re not as big of an idiot as I thought,” you smiled.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Get it out of my pocket, then cut my ropes. Then I’ll cut yours.” 

You shimmied close to him, trying to ignore how the proximity made the heat rise in your collar. You tried to convince yourself it’s a physical reaction to your hatred for him. Like an allergy. 

You managed to slide the knife out, only almost stabbing him in the ass once on a bumpy stretch of road. 

“Hands!” He had grit through his teeth.

“Please, there’s nothing back there to cut. You’re as flat as a board,” you had whispered, immediately blushing and following your words up with a quick: “Not that I’ve been looking or anything.” (You had looked. A couple times. But you’d die before telling him that.) 

Unable to see, you fumbled around a little, careful not to cut him as you sliced through the ropes binding his wrists together. Once free, he lifted his blindfold with careful, quick movements, sure to not let the men in the cab see him, before cutting off the remaining ropes keeping his legs tied together then doing the same for you. 

With the ropes loosened in heaps around your wrists and ankles, you whispered: “What now?” 

His voice was determined, but grim. “We pray.” 

“I gotta take a leak.” One of the raiders mumbled a mere 5 minutes later, after you both had replaced your blindfolds and were acting like two good kidnapees in the back of the truck, in hopes that the men wouldn’t look too closely at the both of you and discover you had freed yourselves. 

“Let’s hope our prayers have been answered. Do you trust me?” Joel asked.

“No.” 

“You’re gonna have to. 3…2…1.” 

The two of you ripped off your blindfolds. 

The scuffle was over in a few minutes. Joel’s chest heaved from the exertion of the fight as he cleaned the bloody knife off on his shirt. He had subdued one of the men pretty quickly, which gave you enough time to grab your gun from the cab and deal with the other. 

He had done a pretty good job, you had to admit, with hiding his knife and handling the raiders. Without him, you would have been royally fucked. You felt a twinge of gratefulness, and a pang of something else as you watched him, the slope of his nose and hardness of his jaw as he wicked the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He had saved you. 

Then, you looked down at the two dead raiders, and what glimmer of heroism that you saw in Joel’s figure distorted into frustration. 

You aimed your gun at Joel. 

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?!” he yelled, the bullet whizzing past his head. 

“Cool it, Texas,” you huffed, “Now, hold still this time.” You aimed again. 

“I just saved your ass, and you try to shoot me because of it?!” 

“I told you we shouldn’t have gone to the cabin-” 

“Look who’s talking, sleepyhead!” 

You started to walk. 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he called after you, his voice already receding into the distance. 

“Jackson. Back to the village of which you are the idiot of!” you screamed over your shoulder. 

“A bit of a convoluted way to put it, darlin’.” 

You refused to dignify that with an answer. 

You had only made it a few metres down the road when you heard the roar of the raiders’ truck, and the heat of the thrumming engine as it pulled up beside you. 

You stared straight ahead, feeling Joel’s gaze rove over you from the driver’s window as he cruised alongside you. 

“Get in,” Joel called out to you.  

“No.” 

“D’you know where you’re going? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.” 

“I do. I think. I tried to memorise the turns they took while we were tied up.” 

“Well, you aren’t getting back to Jackson anytime soon on foot.” 

You ignored him, marching forward. The next few moments were clouded in silence as you stormed down the road, Joel driving slowly beside you all this while. 

“C’mon, get in. Please?” Joel’s voice was startlingly soft, a flash of vulnerability that you hadn’t expected that stopped you in your tracks. He said his words slowly, like it was difficult for him to articulate. It definitely wasn’t easy for someone as stubborn as him to seek help from you. “I can’t leave you out here alone, and I need your help to navigate.”

You turned to look at him, not expecting to find the sincerity scrawled over his face. It softened you. But you liked to make him suffer. 

“Who’s in charge?” you said. 

“Oh, c’mon…” 

“Miller. Answer me. Who is in charge?” 

“You are. Now get in.” 

You smiled in satisfaction, clambering into the passenger seat. 

“You’re in charge of navigation, I’m in charge of driving,” he mumbled beneath his breath. 

You chuckled at his comment. Suddenly his snarkiness, though annoying, seemed like a harmless dig after the events of the day. That laugh was utter release, a reprieve from the loathing for him that had been boiling your blood all day. 

Peeking over at you, you watched his confused face turn into one that mirrored yours. One of cathartic happiness. He let out a laugh, unable to help it. You had never noticed his laugh, his smile. Like a silver lining. You liked it. 

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, save for your directions, though the air between you was different. Still electric in its energy, but not because of anger, or frustration. It was strangely warm.

The sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, and with a satisfying click, he flicked on the headlights, making a turn. The lights illuminated the cabin and your horses. Your heart soared. 

“Well, shit. You did it,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and more laughter bubbled from his lips. Laughing with Joel seemed so foreign after spending every patrol together arguing or in heated silence. It was pleasant.

From here, the two of you would be able to find your way back to Jackson, no question. The two of you mounted your horses and started your way back. He turned to watch you, the delicate turn of your head as you gazed up at the vast sky, drinking it all in. He felt that same pang he always felt around you, what he always thought was annoyance. It hit him with that same ferocity, but it was charged with a different energy. It felt kind of nice. 

You turned to lock eyes with him. 

“I’m sorry,” the both of you said in unison. 

You both dissolved into laughter. 

“Well, I’ll go first,” Joel chuckled, “I’m sorry. I really am. I should have listened to you-”

“No, I’m sorry!” you said. “If it wasn’t for me falling asleep… and I guess trying to shoot you wasn’t very nice.” 

“Wasn’t polite, was it?” he snorted, his smile reflecting your sheepish one. “Still, I fucked up. And the way you helped us find our way back… you saved our asses.” 

“I fucked up too. And if anyone saved us it was you. There was no way we would have gotten out of there without you thinking ahead and hiding the knife.” 

“I guess we make a pretty alright team, huh?” he said, the smile he shot you so hopeful and sweet you felt that hot, molten feeling in your gut again, though it definitely was not hate. 

“Yeah, we do,” you sighed. “I guess if your brother’s gonna keep insisting on putting us on patrol together, we could at least be civil to each other. I think we work together better that way. Deal?” 

“Deal,” he said. “You still drive me a little crazy though.” 

“Ditto,” you smiled at him, and the smile he flashed back made you feel strange and floaty, a similar sort of light-headedness from when you used to get so mad at him on patrols you wanted to scream. You were starting to realise that feeling may have been motivated by a different emotion entirely. He was definitely driving you a little crazy. 

“Where the hell were you guys? You missed the bonfire,” Tommy called out to Joel as the both of you arrived at the centre of Jackson, a dying bonfire crackling behind him. 

“That’s the least of our problems,” Joel huffed, dismounting from his horse as you followed suit, thrusting the reins into his brother’s hands. “You deal with that.” 

Tommy shrugged, leading the horses back to the stable. 

The two of you stood side by side, staring into what little was left of the bonfire, now a flame that licked up to around Joel’s knee-height. The crowd that was surrounding it earlier that night had fully dispersed, leaving just you and Joel alone before the fire. He turned to look at you, the fire glazing your eyes with orange and red hues, setting your gaze alight.

“I have an idea,” you said. Your smile meant trouble. “Let’s jump over it.” 

“What?” Joel asked, eyebrows shooting up incredulously. 

“I read it somewhere. It’s an old tradition, supposed to bring about good luck and new beginnings,” you smile at him, a smile that instantly wins him over. “We need all the luck we can get. C’mon Miller, indulge me. Be civil.” 

His laugh was hesitant, but when you reached for his hand he knew he could do it. 

“Do you trust me?” you grinned. 

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to. 3…2…1!” 

There was a moment there, with his hand in yours, at the very top of where the flames swirled, where it felt like the two of you were flying, suspended against the dark sky. 

Then, you hit the ground. 

You were lying beside each other in the dirt, panting in between gasps of laughter, the cuffs of your pants and the soles of your shoes singed. That electric warmth fired through the air, boiling your blood - definitely not anger. Something else. Passion and anger possess that same fiery quality. 

It burned so brightly within the both of you that he couldn’t help it. He leaned over to kiss you. The fire was warm by your side, the sky dark and electric above you as a storm gathered. The two of you were definitely going to be more than civil.

[evie-sturns]

your christmas gift to matt 🎄

———————————————

it was coming to the end of the present opening, matt sits in a pile of teared up wrapping paper with the largest grin you’ve possibly ever seen on his face. his cheeks are a rosy red from the heating, which was definitely cranked up to the max after you kept complaining about how cold it was in this house.

“i love all of it- i mean how did you even think of this! i’ve wanted it for ages but i never said anything! it’s like you read my mind or some shit.” matt laughs excitability, a big smile spread across his face as he holds up the lego batman set you got him. “what can i say- you’re literally batman!” i tease, “i just sensed your aura, had to get the set for you.” i smile.

matt laughs, scooping up all of the wrapping paper around him and stuffing it in the bin bag.

he was just so clueless about what you had in store for him.

you and matt had been dating for 3 years now, you didn’t want kids, definitely not yet atleast, but there was one thing matt wanted, more than anything, which is basically the same concept…. all he yaps about is this one thing, he could never make the commitment to buy it, never. but you definitely could.

“matt- i have one last present for you.” i speak, fidgeting with your hands nervously. confusion washes over him, “but we already unwrapped everythi-“ he speaks, but he stops as i stand up, walking to behind the couch and pulling out a box. loosely wrapped in green christmas tree wrapping paper. his eyebrows furrow, as he stares at it.

i sit down on the floor infront of him, clutching the box in your lap.

“i uhm- hope you’re not too mad at me for this purchase- but you’ve always talked about it and-“ i ramble on and on, trying to downplay the present i just got him. “you’re edging me jesus.” he laughs, running a hand through his hair.

i place the box in his lap, and he instantly starts unwrapping it, to reveal a large cardboard box…

‘meeow’ a familiar noice booms throughout the box. matt’s head instantly snaps up to look at me, his lips slightly parted. his eyes are wide as he freezes. “no you didn’t-“ he instantly speaks, his voice soft and panicked. i gnaw on my bottom lip nervously as i look at him.

he gently lifts open the flaps of the cardboard box, peeking inside.

a cat. you had got him a cat. a fluffy white kitten, with bright blue eyes of course, to match matt’s.

his hand trembles as he reaches inside the box, gently lifting the small animal out. he clutches the kitten to his chest, holding it like it’s made of glass. his hands are fully shaking now, i can’t see his face due to the fact his hair is flopped infront of his as he looks down at it.

he’s fully silent, my heart thumps as i wait for any sort of reaction, but he just clings to the cat. his large hands almost covering the whole thing.

“do you- do you like it??” i speak nervously.

matt nods silently, before looking up at me with tear filled eyes, “i lov- i love her.” his voice breaks as he gently places the cat down in the box. he’s crying, oh my god.

“oh- aw matt-!” i laugh with a smile as he wipes at his eyes frantically. i pull him into my chest as he lets out a loud hiccup, his tears streaming down his face and dripping onto my christmas sweater.

“i’m sorry- i’m just really happy.” he sobs out through a laugh, his arms wrapped around my waist deathly tight. “i’ve always wanted- a cat and- and now we have one and-“ he cries, pulling away from my chest to lift the kitten out of the box. his whole body shaking as he holds it like his firstborn child. “i love her- i love you- thank you so much this is the best thing that’s ever happened-“ he rambles,

i feel my own emotions start to surface as i look at him, god i am so inlove with this man.

——————-

@ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl rl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl l girl @luvr4miya a @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit t @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts s @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 s2 @ev3rgreenxtrees ees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch h @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos s@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn n @raysmayhem-72 2 @75sturn n @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @sunsetsturniolos ver r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~

—When a Night Raven College’s housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim al-Asim x gn! Reader

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Riddle Rosehearts

♥️ The Headmage’s speech about True Love’s Kiss echoed in your head. You’d admitted to your friends that you had just a tiny, itty-bitty crush on your beloved Teapot-Tyrant. You didn’t know if he’d ever like you back, even though Ace swore up and down that Riddle gave you special treatment when you, Ace, and Deuce got into trouble (aka gently scolding you while they got collared and yelled at)

♥️ You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, even though you got butterflies every time Riddle personally waited on you during Unbirthday Parties and offered to tutor you when you didn’t understand something. If only you didn’t look away every time you got flustered, then you see the sweet blush on Riddle’s face and the gentle look he’d give you when you were together.

♥️ Now, you stared at the boy in front of you. Your beloved hothead-redhead looked too peaceful to be under a sleeping curse. You deadpanned at Ace and Deuce. “Explain.”

♥️ Apparently, while the two of them were messing around in the botanical gardens, they dropped some draught into Trey’s strawberry plants. And Trey baked the strawberries into a tart for Riddle. It was just your luck that your two beloved idiots had Sleeping Death as their potion.

You rubbed your temples. Deuce held his head in his hands. “The Housewarden will be so furious,” Ace said in a daze. Cater nodded solemnly, tucking his phone away, “your heads’ll be off quicker than you can say Magicam.”

“And they’ll be permanently off if you don’t leave them now.” Trey’s aura made them bustle out of the room, and Cater flashed you a little kissy face before leaving after Trey. You turned back to Riddle, sitting next to him. You gently cupped his cheek, brushing his bangs away from his face.

Even though you wanted to do it so many times before, thought of kissing him made you nervous. Especially when he could never wake up. Still, you leaned forward.

“Please wake up Riddle, I’ll miss you too much” you begged, before gently pressing your lips against his. You lingered there for a few seconds, before gasping and pulling away when you felt him move. Riddle’s eyes were wide open and staring at you, his face growing red. “P-prefect?! What is the meaning of this?!”

You threw your arms around Riddle, who dazedly hugged you back. Ace and Deuce fell through the door, and Cater and Trey rushed in. Deuce grabbed Ace and forced him down, bowing before Riddle, “we’re sorry, Housewarden! It won’t happen again!” Riddle looked at Trey and Cater in confusion, who explained “you were under the Sleeping Curse thanks to these two.”

You felt Riddle tense under you, and you pulled away. You cupped his cheek gently as he grit his teeth, “deal with them later, ok? Just rest,” you kissed his cheek and Riddle’s anger fizzled out as Ace and Deuce ran out of them room. Cater chuckled as he and Trey left, “we’ll leave you two lovebirds!” He sneakily snapped a photo, with you and Riddle wrapped in each others arms gazing at each other. He dm’ed you the photo, #truelove’skiss #finallythesetwoaretogether #getaroom

Azul Ashengrotto

💜 The Mostro Lounge was still running normally thanks to Jade. It seemed that only him and Floyd knew that Azul was under the Sleeping Curse. The entire dorm might revolt against working if they knew their Housewarden was cursed. The thought made you giggle, despite your growing nervousness of your crush being cursed.

💜 It was a long shot that Azul would like you. After all, more often than not you caused a lot of trouble for him. But still, you supposed you did get more discounts than the average student. And Azul did seem more keen on roping you into contracts, but somehow your end of the ‘deal’ wasn’t as harsh as others…

💜As Jade lead you into Azul’s bedroom, you asked what happened. Somehow, one of his edible mushrooms had been watered with Sleeping Death. They were making new dishes for the menu, and Azul accidentally ate it. You supposed they knew who spilled the potion into Jade’s precious mushrooms - you saw Ace and Deuce being worked to the bone in the kitchens.

💜“I’ll leave you two,” Jade looked worried when you first arrived, but somehow he looked amused as shut the door.

In the watery lighting of Azul’s room, the quietness felt loud as you remembered the Headmage’s words. You had to kiss him. He was your true love. You brushed Azul’s hair from his face, “are you?” You wondered out loud.

For a while, you tried to squash the growing feelings you had for him. But you couldn’t help but get flustered when he smiled so charmingly at you. And the way he’d offer you anything, anything Prefect please accept this, probably in a guilty attempt to ‘repay’ you. But deep down, you knew there was only one way you wanted him to repay you.

Despite yourself, you felt a lump in your throat as you watched Azul sleep. You grit your teeth. “You can put me in any contract you want. Whatever the price for this is, I-I’ll pay it,” you bit your lip, “just wake up, Azul.” And you pressed your lips to his before you could back down.

You couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat loud in your ears, as you watched his chest move upwards while he breathed in deeply. His eyes snapped open, and immediately he focused on you, albeit blurry. Still, he could recognize you anywhere.

“Prefect?” Azul’s voice was raspy, and he frantically felt the nightstand for his glasses, “wh-what are you doing here?!” Your mouth flopped open but no sound came out. You stared at each other as Azul shoved his glasses on his face while scrambling to sit up. “A-AZUL!” You said too loudly, “you’re awake!” You both probably would’ve stayed there, staring, for the rest of the year when the door slammed open.

“Azuuuul~” Floyd ran in. “Guess ya finally woke up~ ” Jade sauntered in, and you could see relief in his face. “Yes,” Jade smirked at Azul, “it’s a good thing Prefect was here, isn’t it?”

Azul turned pink, and mercifully the twins seemed to think he’d had enough. They looked at each other with a grin, and excused themselves. You found yourself smiling shyly at Azul. “Are you feeling okay?” Azul seemed spaced out, but he snapped back to focus on you. He gulped.

“On account that you’re my… true love,” Azul took a deep breath, “perhaps you’d like to sign a contract now?”

Kalim al-Asim

🧡 The Headmage had barely said anything before Jamil slammed down your door and grabbed your wrist, hauling you straight to Scarabia. You’d never seen Jamil so stressed, ever. Crowley promptly abandoned you, wailing that he had to “go appease the parents.”

🧡 You could at least see why he was upset. The al-Asim’s were no regular family, after all. And neither was Kalim. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought. Bright, bubbly Kalim laying in bed under the Sleeping Curse. It didn’t matter how rich he was, how could someone do that to him?

🧡 Maybe it was because of how everyone at NRC was, but you’d come to appreciate Kalim. It wasn’t a stretch to say you enjoyed his company - whether it was him dragging you out on midnight carpet rides, or out to a party. His smile made the chaos bearable.

🧡 You never hid how happy he made you, especially so during his parties. Kalim always made sure to play your favorite songs, but you never noticed his smile widen when he saw you dance. You always looked so carefree, like a bird in flight. He always beamed when he got you to relax and have fun.

Jamil wasted no time dropping you off at Kalim’s room. “Just… please, I-” He swallowed thickly, before nodding at you. “I’ll leave you be.” He closed the door, and you slowly made your way to Kalim. He was laying among a dozen pillows, the with a few rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. You sighed and sat next to him.

Scarabia felt downright somber without the sunniness of their Housewarden. Kalim’s usually smiling face was now devoid of any emotion. It bothered you more than you thought, to see Kalim with a neutral expression. You idly twisted a lock of his hair. The air felt thick without him to lighten the mood.

You didn’t want to think about never seeing Kalim again. Ever. “The dorm feels empty without you, Kalim,” you gently stroked his cheek, begging “you have to wake up to make it come back to life.” Softly you kissed him, closing your eyes tightly. You hovered there for a second, and pulled away with a gasp when you felt movement.

Kalim began stretching, still laying on the bed. “Mmh? Prefect?” he sat up with a small yawn, “What are you doing here?” He suddenly gasped, ruby eyes brightening. “Did we have a sleepover?! I totally forgot!”

You burst into laughter, feeling your eyes grow wet. You launched yourself at Kalim, both of you falling back onto the bed. Kalim hugged you back tightly, “Huh? What’s this about? Don’t cry, Prefect - I’m here!”

—————

I finally got some free time so here’s the fic three months late oops

Thanks for reading!!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed 😄 the rest of the housewardens should be posted soon!

Take care shrimpies~ ✨ calci

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There's a present under the Christmas tree that wasn't there two hours ago. 

It makes Tommy stand stiff as a poker in the doorway of his own living room, his mind full of possible break-in scenarios. However, the typical signs are missing. No ripped-out drawers, no shattered glass; and what burglar would bring instead of taking something? The somewhat sad little tree, which Tommy didn't actually want to put up in the first place but then did because it's Christmas after all, seems to shine a little brighter thanks to the present. 

Carefully, he approaches the tree under whose green branches the box lies. Its red wrapping, decorated with little Christmas trees, is reflected in the equally red and shiny Christmas baubles. Of course, there’s only one way to how the present got under the tree, only one person who’d be able to do it. Buck still has a key to Tommy's house. He hasn't been in touch since the break-up, and Tommy has missed the perfect time where you presumably ask for the things that the other person still has in their possession. 

The little red box bears Evan’s signature so much, it hurts. It is not particularly carefully packaged, although you can see he's made an effort. Instead of just buying a box, he has wrapped whatever is in the parcel in wrapping paper. It’s wrinkled, the small trees on it are uneven. Tommy can almost see it: Evan sitting at his kitchen table, his tongue between his half-open lips, concentrated in a tangle of adhesive tape. A man with such skillful hands, yet he simply can’t coordinate them. Hands that save lives but fail when cutting paper. Opposites that are downright confusing - and yet so attractive. 

Tommy lets out a sigh that echoes off the walls of his room, as if his own house is mocking him for his self-inflicted loneliness. He holds the small gift in his hands and wonders whether he should really open it. What’s the intention behind it? Why give him a present? The truth is, Evan had gifted him with his mere presence, probably without even knowing it. Getting that back would be a far greater gift than whatever may be in this box. 

The only problem is that he believes he doesn't deserve either. 

Tommy carefully pulls on the adhesive strip, runs a finger beneath the paper and very gently removes it. There is a plain white box underneath. Maybe it was a spontaneous idea to wrap it, but then why go to all the trouble for an undertaking that Evan also knows he hardly has mastered? Tommy's thoughts are on a rollercoaster, a constant up and down, and every steep descent causes tingles in his guts. 

Tommy shakes the box. There’s a soft tinkling sound inside, metal scraping against the cardboard of the box. He turns the box over in his hands, looks at it from all sides, but he is only delaying the inevitable, and he knows it. Opening the lid feels like tearing off a band-aid. Inside is a folded note on a layer of tissue, as green as the little trees on the wrapping paper, but not as green as the branches of  Tommy’s Christmas tree. Green as hope, maybe. 

Tommy,

I still see a future. E. 

Tommy stares at the note, his eyes actually looking right through it, far away; back to a time perhaps when he was less afraid. His fingers carefully feel their way over the tissue in the box. There’s still time to put aside the message, the box, the hope. Maybe he's too much of a coward for that, too. Tommy reaches under the paper, lifts it out of the box and tosses it aside. It gently slides under the tree, almost exactly where the present was. A sign, or not; everything is a sign or it isn’t. 

There’s a key in the box.

That’s not the key to Tommy’s house. Even if it would have been a weird way to return it like this, his deceptive heart feared just that for a moment. But it's also not the key to Evans Loft, because Tommy didn't give it back either. Silly, that they both had clung to this symbols so much. So, it’s neither his key nor Evan’s, and it only takes a quickening heartbeat longer for Tommy to realize. It really is a symbol, this key. One that not only relies on Tommy's curiosity, but also trusts that he will rise to the occasion. 

Suddenly, his phone is in his hands.

This the key to your heart, Evan? 

Bating his breath, he’s waiting for an answer.  

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me’. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[angstywaifu]

Hi, how have you been??

I was wondering if your requests are still open? If so, it crosses my mind: what if Garrick had a cousin secretly dating Bodhi, and how would he and Xaden react if they found out about their relationship after Bo goes feral because Garrick's cousin is hurt?

It's just an idea, if your requests aren't open or makes you uncomfortable in any way I apologize and please forget I asked in the first place.

Love your work, btw. Bye 👋 💕

Worse Kept Secret - Bodhi Durran x Reader

A/N: Just like Bodhi not telling Xaden and Garrick, better late than never right? I'm so sorry this took so long to get to. I hope you like it!

Masterlist | Support Me

“We should probably tell them soon.” I tell Bodhi as we make our way to class.

Bodhi’s eyes widen before he shakes his head. “Hell no. Garrick would have my head if he found out about us.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re acting like he’s my brother.”

”He may as well be with how protective he is over you. Have you seen the way he glares at any guy that looks your way for a second too long?”

I sigh. “You’re over reacting, it will be fine. He’s going to have to find out eventually.”

”Yeah, when he’s stationed far away from here when he can’t hunt me down and murder me.” He says before coming to a stop outside his classroom.

It had been six months since Bodhi and I had started seeing each other. Both of us agreeing to keep it a secret at first in case it didn’t go well or we decided to go back to being friends. But six months in it was clear that this was going well, and it was getting harder and harder to cover up sneaking off together. Especially now Bodhi and I were helping with supply runs, meaning our time together was becoming more and more limited.

“No we are telling him before he graduates and gets stationed elsewhere.” I tell him sternly.

Bodhi’s shoulders sag in defeat, before slowly nodding his head. “Fine, but when my body turns up one morning in the middle of the rotunda just know it was because of you.”

I quickly check the hallway to make sure we’re alone before leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll remember your noble sacrifice. See you at challenges.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me as I turn and walk away to my own class.

Bodhi.

I rush into the training room, the familiar sounds of fighting echoing around the room as everyone watches on. My squads flight training had gone over time due to an inccident, so I’d missed the first half of challenges. I push my way through the crowd to the ususal spot I stand in with Y/N, Garrick, Xaden and Imogen. But as I break through the crowd the only one there is Imogen. I scan the mats in the centre of the room, expecting to see them fighting on one of the mats. But none of them are there. Strange.

”Where are the others?” I ask Imogen as I manouver into the gap next to her.

”Healers Quadrant.” She says timidly, as if almost scared to tell me. Which was not normal for her at all.

”Imogen, what’s wrong?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I look down at her with narrowed eyes.

She looks up at me and recoils slightly at my stare. “Jeez, it’s scary how much you look like Xaden when you do that.”

”Imogen.” I say more sternly.

“It’s Y/N. She…”

”Imogen I swear to the gods you better tell me what happened.” I demand.

”She got badly hurt in challenges. That new Barlowe kid got paired up with her.”

I feel all the colour drain from my face at her words. Barlow had no care or regard for anyone but himself. He was ruthless, and was already known for killing quite a number of cadets already. As well as sending a long list of cadets to the Healers Quadrant in very bad condition.

I turn and shove my way through the crowd, Imogen calling out to me in an effort to stop me. She was pretty much the only one that knew about Y/N and I. She had covered for us numerous times after stumbling across us one night in an abandoned tower. Clearly it was not as abandoned as we had thought.

As soon as I push through the doors, I sprint over to the bridge connecting us to the rest of the college. But no matter how hard I push myself it feel as if time is slowing down, as if I’m running through mud.

I can’t help but think of the worse. I had seen first hand many times how Jack’s opponents had ended up post challenging him. Most of them unconscious, a lot of them gushing blood from some sort of wound, or…. Dead. No she isn’t dead. Imogen would have said so. But she had called out to me….

The thought has me pushing my legs harder, barrelling towards to door opening that finally looked like it was getting closer and closer. Rounding the corner, I nearly take out a healer who squeals with alarm as I dodge past her.

I push open the doors to the infirmary, Garrick and Xaden’s heads whipping towards me as I rush towards them. “Where is she?” I demand loudly as I stop in front of them, frantically looking around at the beds.

”She’s back there with Nolon.” Xaden tells me, nodding towards the closed door at the back of them room.

I side step him, starting to rush towards the doors before a hand grabs my flight jacket and hauls me backwards. I reel around, shoving Garrick in the chest hard, causing him to stumble back as he releases my jacket.

”What the hell has gotten into you?” He nearly yells at me, the room going silent as the healers look at us with alarm.

I freeze, realising I’m reacting in a way I probably shouldn’t be for someone they think I’m just friends with. Yes she was Garrick’s cousin, but I had only know her coming up to two years now. Garrick should be reacting like I am, which I’m sure on the inside he was.

“Sorry. Imogen just made it sound bad.” I say as I lower my gaze, awkwardly scratching the back of my head in an effort to pass this off.

”What did she say?” Xaden asks.

”That she was up against Barlowe.” I say quietly. Imogen hadn’t actually said it was bad, I had just assumed it was. If I was smart I would have rushed in and asked what happened. Not come barging in here like I was out for blood.

”And?” Garrick asks, his tone almost teasing as if he can see right through me.

“And that was it…” I mumble out, but with the breathy laugh I hear from the two of the I know they’ve heard me clear as day.

“Yes it could be better, but all Barlow managed to do was break her arm.” Xaden tells me, my head snapping up in relief at his words. A broken arm was nothing, happened all the time around here. And easy fix. And explained why she was in the back with Nolan.

”If anything, Barlowe should be the one you’re worried about.” Garrick says with a laugh.

I turn and follow his gaze to where Barlowe lays in one of the beds I’d missed in my scan of the room, clutching a very blood stained cloth to his side as the healers work to mend the wound. On his bedside table lays on of her daggers covered in his blood. I can’t help but smile knowing that she’d gotten him back, and done worse damage to him than he had done to her.

“Definitely not worried about him. He deserves it.” I say as I turn my attention back to them, both of them nodding in agreement.

I think I’ve gotten away with hiding why I reacted the way I did, until Garrick looks me in the eyes and just smirks at me. “So instead of trying to pass off your reaction due to Imogen being vague, you going to man up and tell me you’re dating my cousin?”

I feel like my heart stops as my eyes go wide. Xaden doesn’t even try to hide his laughter at my reaction to Garrick’s words.

”How the hell did you know?” I blurt out with out thinking, mentally slapping myself.

Garrick rolls his eyes. “You really trusted Imogen to keep your secret from us?”

I groan as I hide my head in my hands. “Definitely wasn’t your smartest move cousin.” Xaden says as he pats me on the back.

“Excuse me while I go find a certain pink haired cadet to murder.” I grumble out as I storm out of the infirmary back to the Rider’s Quadrant, Garrick and Xaden’s booming laughs echoing behind me

[thursdayinspace]

post-Milagro ficlet

I got an ask from a lovely anon a few days ago about *the* quote from Milagro: "Agent Scully is already in love." This is part of what will maybe turn out to be a larger WIP, or maybe not. It stands on its own for now. But who knows. Anon: thanks for the ask! I took a bit of a different turn with this, but I couldn't manage post-Milagro fic that didn't have some angst in it. tagging @today-in-fic

Agent Scully is already in love.

A look at the alarm clock tells her it’s 3 a.m. and she hasn’t managed to sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Every time she drifts off, the same thoughts jerk her awake again. She can still feel the hand around her heart, the horror and fear, the absolute certainty in her mind that this was it, she couldn’t fight this, nobody was gonna save her this time.

But she’s okay. She’s not even hurt. There’s even a decent chance that she’ll get the blood out of her clothes, even though she’s not sure she ever wants to wear them again. She’s okay, and yet she’s lying here wide awake at 3 a.m., the past few days replaying on a constant loop in her mind. She has no idea why she ever even talked to Padgett. Quite honestly, she has no idea why she did any of the things she did. She has no idea how she didn’t end up hurt or dead.

She knew the risks she was taking. Interacting with your own stalker—a really fucking terrible idea. But it’s only now that she’s truly afraid. Now that it’s over.

Mulder offered to stay with her. He would have let her stay at his apartment, but she had to get out of there, and he understood. A part of her wishes she’d have let him sleep on her couch the way he wanted. Having him close by might be a comfort now. Or it might not.

Agent Scully is already in love.

One more thing she can’t forget, no matter how hard she tries. Padgett was clearly not well, and she never should have listened to a word he said, but she did. She listened, and she heard things that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

And Mulder was there. Mulder heard. She turns her face into the pillow and squeezes her eyes closed. She doesn’t wanna hear it anymore. She doesn’t want those words.

If it weren’t for those words, maybe she could have let Mulder stay. Maybe it would have been okay.

Deep breaths, she tells herself. Breathe. Relax. Think about nothing. Think about puppies and nice hot baths and the smell of freshly baked cookies.

A hand around her heart, squeezing. She can’t move, the floor hard against her back, and she knows she’s dying, she can’t move, she can’t…

Fuck. She rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with her hands as if that could stop the images from flooding her tired mind.

Jolting back to consciousness, her body tight with fear and shock, and Mulder right there, Mulder with his worried eyes, Mulder’s arms around her holding her close, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder.

She wants Mulder. Oh god. She shouldn’t have sent him away when he dropped her off, when he asked whether she wanted him to come up.

She could call her mom.

She could deal with this on her own like a fucking adult who doesn’t need anyone to hold her hand every time she gets scared.

A tiny part of her brain reminds her that this was bad, that she has every right to be shaken up. But she wants her mind to be wrong about this. She just wants it to be over.

She wants Mulder.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Mulder is the last person she can call right now.

They have worked out a system a long time ago for when one of them can’t sleep. Call and let it ring once, then hang up. If the other one is awake enough to reach for the phone, they talk. Otherwise they let each other sleep. She could do that. He’d understand. Hell, he’s probably lying awake expecting her to call. Which makes her that much more determined not to do it.

The last digits she reads on her alarm clock before she drifts off into a restless slumber are 5:28.

At 7 a.m., her alarm rings. She feels terrible. Everyone would understand if she took a sick day. But then she’d sit here all day with her thoughts, with her memories, with nothing to distract her.

**

When she walks into the office, she doesn’t remember getting dressed, she doesn’t remember driving to work. She’s not sure whether she had breakfast or not. She’s not even entirely sure she’s awake.

“Scully!” Mulder sounds surprised, and she manages to lift her head high enough to look at him as he walks around the desk. He comes straight towards her to put his hands on her shoulders. “Scully, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m fine. Just. Didn’t sleep great.”

He doesn’t let go of her, just stands there biting his lip and giving her that soft look that makes her want to weep.

She doesn’t need this on top of everything. Maybe she should have stayed home after all. She’s so good at keeping her feelings locked away. Today, she barely has the strength to stand upright or formulate a single thought that isn’t Oh god, I’m so tired.

“Go home,” Mulder says. “I’ll drive you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to… I just need to take my mind off things.”

A stranger’s fist inside her chest, forcing the life from her body, merciless, cold. Pain, panic.

Mulder squeezes her shoulders gently. “You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect you to come in. I’m sure neither did Skinner. Take a few days. You need rest.”

She shakes her head, regretting the movement as the room spins out of focus for a second. “What I need is to work.” What she needs is to know if Mulder knows. She knows her fear is safe with him. She doesn’t know about all the rest. She needs something to hold onto. Something stronger than the fear. “I’m not going home,” she tells him firmly.

He hesitates a long moment, an eternity. Finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Mulder looks very unhappy, but she can’t do anything about that. She just needs… she just needs something to occupy her mind. Before she passes out on the floor and dreams of a hand around her heart, squeezing the life out of her.

**

“Hey, Scully?”

She blinks her eyes open, disoriented for a second. Her neck hurts and her head is spinning as she sits up. Mulder is standing in the doorway. She’s sitting behind the desk. Right. She wanted to check something. He went to… do something else that she doesn’t remember. “Sorry,” she says, and wipes drool from the corner of her mouth. Falling asleep at the desk is probably not the best way to convince him she’s okay to work. A quick look at her watch tells her she can’t have been out for more than ten minutes. “What is it?”

He waves a file in her direction. “I think we should check this out as quickly as possible,” he says.

“Oh.” She manages a nod. Do they have a case? She remembers talking about something earlier that they decided to dismiss. She can’t even recall what it was. But apparently they settled on something. “Yeah, absolutely.” She pauses, not sure whether she wants to ask. She really doesn’t want him to know that she completely zoned out on all of it. But then again, she can’t exactly do her work if she doesn’t know what they’re even working on. “What, uh. What is the case again? Sorry, I guess I’m a bit… distracted today.”

“Yeah.” He gives her a long look. “The haunted hotel, remember? And it’s just an hour and a half from here.”

“Oh!” she says, pretending to remember, deciding she can read whatever is in that folder on the way to… wherever it is they’re going. “Right. Yes. Okay. And you want us to go there right now?”

“Why not?” he says, shrugging. “No time like the present.”

“Good, yeah, okay.” She suppresses a yawn and tries not to shiver too obviously. She has reached the level of exhaustion where her whole body hurts and she feels like she’s running a fever.

“I’ll drive,” he says. She doesn’t argue.

**

Out of sheer stubbornness, she manages not to fall asleep in the car. She even manages to make conversation. Her speech is barely even slurred. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

Unfortunately, he put the file in the trunk of the car before she remembered to take it from him, but he’s telling her some ghost stories about the place while they drive, so she feels reasonably well-prepared.

“Here we are,” he says, pulling into the parking lot of an expensive-looking hotel that looks not even remotely like she imagined. But after all these years, she’s come to expect the unexpected.

“This is it?”

“Yup.” He smiles at her and gets out of the car. She follows, her legs heavy, but she gets them moving, gets them to carry her towards the entrance of the building.

The spacious foyer they walk into screams “I’m way out of your pay grade,” and she notices guests and staff who all look very happy and not at all like they’re being plagued by ghost sightings. Business seems to be going well. Which is also not what she expected from a place that is haunted enough for Mulder to open an X-file on it. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, and something in his voice makes her turn her head and study his profile carefully.

“Mulder, what aren’t you telling me?”

He stops and turns towards her with a sigh. “I may have done something rash and stupid, and please feel free to yell at me if I completely overstepped any boundaries here.”

“Oh god,” she says. “What did you do?”

“I, um.” He directs his gaze at the floor next to her feet and grimaces. “I may have gone to Skinner and told him we’re both taking the rest of the week off.”

“You…what?”

“And I may have called here and booked us a suite. For two nights. A… vacation, I guess.”

“Mulder…”

“Two bedrooms. And there are go ghosts here, don’t worry.” He pauses before he continues, his voice low and careful. “As long as we’re anywhere near the Hoover Building, you’ll work. I know it and you know it.”

“Mulder, seriously…”

“You need to sleep, Scully,” he says, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re dead on your feet. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. She’s so tired. So very, very tired. All she wants is a bed. All she wants is for her memories to leave her alone. All she wants is to sink against Mulder’s chest and cry with exhaustion and the emotional hangover from almost being murdered. Again. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks so hopeful, so relieved. Another thing that almost makes her cry.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Shit. He makes it really hard for her to feel any other sort of way about him. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

She frowns. “What about all those stories you just told me about this place?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I kind of made them up.”

Her laughter turns into a yawn and he puts his arms around her shoulders as they get their key and find the elevator up to their floor. She leans against him, letting him hold her upright. Now that she’s given in to this, the prospect of lying down and closing her eyes seems so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Oh no,” she says, suddenly remembering something.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, nothing.”

He laughs and pulls her tighter against him just as the elevator door opens and they step out. “I’m sorry. I honestly completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah.” She feels such a rush of fondness for him it makes her aching heart flutter in her chest. “I’m noticing you don’t have a bag with you either.”

“Well.” He lets go of her to open the door to their suite and lets her walk in ahead of him. “We’ll just have to spend the next couple of days in hotel robes.”

“Maybe we should go out and buy a few things,” she suggests.

“Or,” he says, “you go and lie down and I’ll go out and pick up a few things for us.”

“But—”

“Scully,” he interrupts. “Trust me. I think I can manage to find a pair of sweatpants and a couple of t-shirts for you that will fit.”

“Underwear,” she says and blushes.

“I can manage that too,” he says, and she’s too tired to feel embarrassed about anything right now.

Agent Scully is already in love.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“That’s not difficult,” he says, “since I’m the only partner you’ve ever had. There’s not really that much competition.”

In lieu of an answer, she hugs him, pleased when he puts his arms around her in return. She doesn’t feel the hard floor against her back when he holds her, she doesn’t remember what it felt like when her vision went black and she felt herself dying.

She really wants to ask him if he knows who Padgett was talking about. If he believed it. But she won’t. Not right now. There’s time. And maybe she already knows the answer. Either way, it’s true. And she’s too weak to fight it.

“Thank you,” she says.

He pulls her closer and sighs against her hair. “I just want you to be okay,” he says softly.

“I will be,” she promises.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Whether it’s friendship or something else that he’s offering, she knows that whatever shape his feelings come in, she’s never been loved like this before. By anyone. And even with all the ghosts in her mind, she feels like she might finally get some sleep after all.

[admirationandromantics]

Chris's Little Sister

Can you write something about Josh dating Chris’s younger sister? -anon 

Of course I can!! I think one of the best ways to incorporate the reader into the group would actually be through a sibling relationship. And like… brother’s best friend? Now that’s something I live for. I did take some inspiration from Friends, just felt like it fit. Anyways, enjoy some headcanons for this one (already written one story today, and prepping for Christmas, so don’t have that much time).

And yeah, I still got a couple of requests in my inbox, but please bear with me. I do have things to do, but will get to them when I have the time. Enjoy <3

Chris and Josh met in third grade, so no wonder that when Chris brought home this beautiful little guy, you had heart eyes. You didn’t dare to talk to him, even when he initiated the conversation. You hid behind Chris or your mom, just observing them as they played. 

As you grew older, you developed more of a friendly relationship, this was your brother’s best friend after all, you weren’t gonna fuck it up. Chris brought you when you went to the Washingtons, and you mainly spent your time with the twins. 

Of course, Josh had a soft spot for you. He liked you, felt that he had to protect you, that sort of thing. You didn’t know if it was because you were Chris’s sister or because there was something else beneath. Soon, after a little too much time without Chris, you guys figured things out. 

Stolen glances became signals for a retreat to a secluded make out spot. Secret visits, making sure not to wake his sisters as well. Small touches that no one noticed. Everything felt like fireful passion, and keeping it secret made it even more thrilling. 

Josh has also made a few suggestive comments to his friend, trying to warm him up to the idea. “No, I’m not home that day” “Is your sister home?” “Why does that matter?” “I can think of a few ways we could entertain ourselves” “You’re not going near my sister, I’ll beat your head off, no joke” “Yeah, yeah… I know” 

When the annual winter getaway came, you found yourself with a lot more space and options. You and Josh talked, always away from Chris. I mean, he would actually kill him if he did something. You spent this time being flirty, a few comments here and there, which surprised the bachelor. 

That’s when it suddenly happened. You found yourself pressed up against the wall, locking lips with Josh Washington, your brother’s best friend. But you were caught. Hannah stood like a ghost in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. You both knew you had fucked up. 

“Hannah!” “Don’t fucking talk to me” “Hannah, please!” “Has this been the drive all along? Being my friend, being with me just to hook up with my brother?” 

“You hooked up with Josh?” The colour drains from your face as you hear his voice. Chris, standing there, defeated, looking down on you. Everything is fucked up, everything is bad. “Chris, please hear me out…” 

He doesn’t. He marches to Josh’s room, confronting his friend. “What the hell, Josh!” 

You run inside, putting yourself in between them. “What’s going on?” Josh whispers to you, confused by the raging blonde. “He knows” “Shit”

“How long has this been going on?” You’re both silent, wondering what the right answer to the question might be. A while, a long time. Maybe he’d go easier on you if you said it was just one time? “Oh my god, and you never told me?” He’s looking down at you, disappointment and full of sorrow. 

“Listen Chris…” “Is he forcing you to do anything?” “No!” “Has he manipulated you in any way?” “Absolutely not!” 

He’s still defeated, trying to come to terms with it all. “You have many girls head over heels for you. Why, why. Why did it have to be her?” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were kind of curious as well. Why you, of all people. 

“Man, I-I can’t describe it. It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I love her, and we work, we’re good together” 

You both turn your attention to Chris again, and you take hold of his hand, rubbing over the knuckles softly. “I’m sorry Chris, but I feel the same about him” 

“For goodness sake, it’ll take time for me to digest this” “Of course, we understand” “And you feel safe?” “I do” “And he hasn’t hurt you in any way?” “No” 

“That’s a lie” Beth says, standing in the doorway. “What?” “The sounds I’ve heard from his room the last few weeks…” 

The relief turns to fear again as your brother rush to tackle your boyfriend.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (13)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 7.9k

hehe, hi...im back but i cant keep you all waiting too long. So here is what i got so far <3.

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

Time stretched into slow motion, each second weighed down by heartbreak. Jinx stood paralyzed at the edge of the scene, Isha pressed tightly against her chest. The little girl trembled and sobbed into Jinx’s neck, clutching her clothes with tiny, desperate fingers. Jinx’s ears buzzed with grief, her vision blurred by tears that refused to fall, hovering in her eyes like shards of glass. She watched through a haze as your body was hauled onto the stretcher, limbs slack and head lolling in a way that sent icy terror into her bones.

A muffled voice drifted into her awareness—Vi’s. She said something about riding with you to the hospital, to keep an eye on you. Her words echoed hollowly in Jinx’s head, distorted and distant, as though spoken through water. Jinx could only nod dumbly, her gaze anchored on your lifeless form. She couldn’t tear her eyes away long enough to focus on Vi’s face. She barely caught the flash of pink hair as her sister sprinted off, hopping into the ambulance as its doors swung shut with a heavy thud.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn stood a short distance away, breathing shallowly, tears clinging to her lashes. Her entire world was disintegrating moment by moment. She replayed tiny memories: the feel of your arm around her waist, your laughter calming her racing heart, the rare moments your lips touched hers—far too few. She’d barely begun to know the texture of your love, barely savored the quiet mornings, the gentle reassurances, the silent conversations of glances and smiles. Now, it felt as if it had been stolen from her, yanked away by fate’s cruel hand. A distant figure, Ekko, reached out to comfort her, but she recoiled instinctively, shrugging him off with trembling shoulders as she staggered forward, drawn toward you even though you were already gone from sight.

The world smoldered in silence and despair. Fires of anguish danced behind Caitlyn’s eyes. The crowd around them faded into blurred silhouettes. Her chest tightened, and she struggled for air as if drowning. She wiped at her tears, her throat raw with screams left unvoiced. The city’s noise became a distant roar. All that mattered was you, and the knowledge that your heartbeat might have stilled.

Then, across a brief expanse of rubble and smoke, Caitlyn’s tear-filled gaze met Jinx’s. In that slow-motion moment, all their old grudges, their rivalries, their differences evaporated like mist in the morning sun. Both women’s hearts bled pain, reflected plainly in their eyes. Jinx, breathing unevenly, gently eased Isha into Sevika’s arms, not needing words to command Sevika to care for the child. Isha, sobbing quietly, still holding the trinket you’d made, reached out feebly as Jinx stepped away. Sevika cradled the little one, murmuring something inaudible, her own stern eyes shining with something close to sorrow.

Jinx and Caitlyn stumbled toward each other as if guided by some gravitational force. Their legs threatened to give out, the ground swaying beneath them. Every step felt like crossing a battlefield of memories and regrets, of anger and misunderstandings that no longer mattered. The dust danced in the thinning light, casting long shadows of their forms. They closed the distance, and as they reached one another, they collapsed into each other’s arms like fallen angels, wings broken, seeking comfort in the only place they could find it now.

Their bodies trembled with sobs that they tried to hold back but failed. Jinx pressed her face into Caitlyn’s shoulder, her fingers tangling in the strands of Caitlyn’s hair, clinging as if Caitlyn were the last tether to reality. Caitlyn, arms wrapped around Jinx’s waist, choked on her tears, her voice hitching as she tried to form words. They dropped to their knees, still locked in that embrace, their pain merging into a singular force of grief and devotion. They whispered half-words, promises carried on shaky breaths. The smell of smoke, sweat, and blood lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of all they had lost and were losing.

“I can’t lose them,” Caitlyn managed, voice muffled by Jinx’s collar. “I can’t. We’ve barely begun… we need them here.” Jinx nodded fiercely, tears falling freely now onto Caitlyn’s shoulder. “I know,” Jinx whispered, her voice breaking. “They’ll make it. They have to. For all of us.”

When they pulled back slightly, their foreheads touching, the world shrank to that intimate space of shared grief and determination. Caitlyn’s tears slid down her cheeks in silver trails as she managed, “Promise me, Jinx—if something happens, if… if they don’t…” Her voice cracked into silence, too frightened to say the words. “Promise we’ll stop at nothing to make sure they get justice.”

Jinx closed her eyes, pressing her forehead more firmly against Caitlyn’s. “I promise,” she breathed, voice low and strong. “No matter what happens, we’ll make them pay.”

The world beyond them continued in slow-motion chaos—Vi leaving with the ambulance, Ekko and Sevika trying to calm Isha, the crowds murmuring and praying for miracles. Above, the wounded tower bore silent witness to the heartbreak unfolding below.

Caitlyn and Jinx remained in that desperate embrace, tears merging with sweat and ash. In that instant, all rivalry, all resentment, dissolved. The cost of this war had reached too high. They had lost so much, but they would not lose you without a fight.

______

Inside the ambulance, the siren’s wail muted to a distant drone, as if the world outside no longer mattered. The cramped interior smelled of disinfectant and sweat. Vi hovered close, fists clenched at her sides, eyes fixed on your motionless form. The EMTs worked in tense silence, their gloves and uniforms damp with the condensation of frantic effort. Every breath they took, every instrument they lifted, seemed unbearably loud against the hush that fell over the van.

“Answer me,” Vi demanded, voice cracking as she struggled to maintain composure. “Is she—?” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t voice the terror choking her. “Is she alive?”

One EMT, eyes shadowed with fatigue, spared her a brief glance. “We’re doing everything we can. Please, ma’am, let us work.”

That wasn’t enough. Vi’s heart hammered. She leaned forward, desperate for any sign of life. Another EMT knelt beside you, carefully cutting through the soaked fabric of your shirt to reach your back. The sound of tearing cloth seemed deafening in the quiet. They eased you onto your side, the vehicle rocking slightly as it sped down the streets. The EMT’s brows knitted together, and he exchanged a heavy look with his colleague. Silence thickened, dread settling over them all.

Vi’s throat tightened. “What is it?” she pressed, her voice little more than a plea. “Tell me!”

The EMT finally turned you on your back, the front of your shirt peeled away. Water droplets gleamed on your pale skin, bruises flowering darkly over your ribs and shoulders. Vi could see the bullet wound—an ugly, glistening hole—and her stomach lurched. The other EMT gasped softly, leaning closer, probing gently with skilled fingers. Another ragged piece of fabric fell away, and there it was: a second wound. An exit wound.

“Exit wound,” muttered one of the EMTs, relief blooming in his tone. He looked up at Vi, his features softening with something like hope. “The bullet’s gone through,” he said quietly. “They’re not out of danger yet, but—there’s a chance. The bullet didn’t lodge inside.” His voice faltered, and he continued more confidently, “We can stabilize her. They’re hanging on.”

Vi’s breath caught. She almost dared to hope. “She’s going to make it?” she asked, voice trembling. She tried to imagine your pain, your fight for breath, your heart stubbornly beating. Her mind replayed the scene: Isha in your arms, pressed tight against you, and then that bullet. The angle of the shot. The trinket. The memory hit her, and her eyes widened. The toy you made for Isha—crafted with love and care—must have deflected or slowed the bullet, protecting the child. Her heart twisted. Even in your desperate leap, you’d found a way to shield her.

“We have a pulse spike!” shouted one of the EMTs from the front, looking at the monitor, excitement cracking his voice.

Vi’s hand instinctively found yours, her fingers curling around your limp hand. She leaned down, her forehead nearly touching yours, voice low and raw with emotion. “You’re gonna be okay,” she murmured, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Do you hear me? You’re not done. Not now. Not after all this.”

The EMT at the monitor let out a quiet laugh of astonishment. “A miracle,” he breathed, and the word hung sweet and tender in the tense air. They resumed their work with renewed vigor, their motions swift and determined. The van sped on, cutting through Piltover’s streets, carrying hope and heartbreak in equal measure.

Vi just held your hand tighter, praying silently you would hold on long enough for them all to see you smile again.

_____

Caitlyn sat at her desk, face set in a grim scowl. The gaslight glow revealed new lines of exhaustion etched into her features. Papers lay strewn across the surface—warrants, decrees, and official pleas—all attempts to pull Mel into a face-to-face confrontation. The tension in the room was palpable as she fiddled with her pen, occasionally tapping it on the desk with sharp, deliberate clicks. Each sound echoed her frustration. She wanted in that room with Mel so badly she could taste it, to show the councilor exactly what came of trying to tear apart the fragile peace she had worked so hard to protect.

The sound of boots in the corridor broke through her dark reverie. She nodded to the guard, a brief jerk of her chin, and the door swung open to admit Jinx. The Zaunite stepped inside with uncharacteristic calm, her eyes flicking over the documents Caitlyn had gathered. She drifted closer, eventually leaning over Caitlyn’s shoulder to scan the warrant Caitlyn intended to serve to Mel.

For a moment, neither spoke. Caitlyn’s shoulders were stiff with pent-up rage, and Jinx’s gaze narrowed as she pieced together the plan forming in Caitlyn’s mind. Finally, Caitlyn broke the silence, her voice low and steady, “Do you hate me more than before? If I do this—if I attempt something that could change so much between the three of us—will you hate me?”

Jinx’s brow furrowed. The question caught her off guard. She crossed her arms, leaning back, considering her words carefully. “Hate you?” she repeated, her tone subdued. “I never really hated you, Piltie. I hated what you stood for, maybe. Your rules, your neat little world that I never fit into. And Vi…” She let the name hang in the air, implying the complicated history that still weighed on both of them. “But since we all… found her,” Jinx paused, eyes distant as if remembering better times with you, “I realized I don’t have room to hate you. Not when we’ve both become better because of her. We wouldn’t be who we are without… you know.”

Caitlyn absorbed these words, nodding slowly. A reluctant respect passed between them—an understanding that the person you loved had somehow bridged the impossible gap. “Come,” she said, her voice tight with emotion, “we need the conference room.” She stood, gathering her paperwork, her gunbelt jingling softly as she moved. “I promise Mel isn’t in there.”

Jinx nodded, following her with quiet determination. They stepped into the corridor and descended into a spacious, high-ceilinged conference room lit by crystal chandeliers that seemed too bright, too pristine for the ugly truths they carried. Councilors were already assembled around a polished table. The atmosphere turned heavy as Caitlyn took her seat at the head of the table, Jinx surprisingly close by, standing at her shoulder like a loyal partner. Their presence together raised a few eyebrows, but no one dared comment outright.

Caitlyn cleared her throat, spreading the documents before her. “We’re here to address the grievous situation,” she began, her voice cold and clipped. “Mel’s involvement in abducting our… our hero.” Her throat caught slightly on that word, but she continued. “She has broken every code of conduct, threatened Piltover’s stability, and shown utter disregard for the alliances we’ve tried to forge.”

A few councilors exchanged uneasy glances. One cleared his throat and said, “With all due respect, Commander, the individual in question—this hero—is from Zaun. Legally, they hold no council position, no formal standing. What do you expect us to do? Without official status, we have limited leverage.”

Jinx’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward with a sneer. Caitlyn, noting the tension, laid a hand on the table. Her back ramrod straight, she stared each councilor down in turn. “You’re wrong,” she said quietly, “and I’m about to prove it.”

She placed a single sheet of crisp parchment in the center of the table. “According to Piltover’s legal handbook, if an individual is legally bound—married—to a councilor, they gain immediate protections under Piltover’s laws. This includes the right to full investigation and legal action against anyone who harms them.”

A gasp rippled around the room. Jinx stiffened, her heart fluttering in her chest. She tried to hide her shock, but her jaw tightened subtly. Caitlyn didn’t look at Jinx, her gaze fixed on the councilors, daring any of them to object. “I propose marriage,” she stated, her voice unwavering, “to her. As Commander of the Piltover Army, I claim my right to marry who I choose. And once she is my wedded spouse, I will unleash every legal resource Piltover has at its disposal to bring Mel to justice.”

The councilors murmured, scandalized and astonished. They knew Caitlyn Kiramman as strict, law-abiding, measured. But this—this was unprecedented. Her eyes, glacial and steady, left no room for doubt. She was deadly serious. Anyone who dared contradict her now faced not only her wrath, but the collapse of their carefully maintained order.

Jinx swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected this. Marriage? It wasn’t jealousy she felt, but a strange, twisted surge of hope. If this could bring you back—if this could secure justice—then who was she to argue? She caught Caitlyn’s eye, and the enforcer’s stare was calm, purposeful. It was a promise. A promise of unity, of doing whatever it took to save you.

Silence stilled the room, and one councilor cleared his throat, “This is… drastic.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Drastic? You think this is drastic? She has been kidnapped, tortured. Mel has crossed every line. You should be thanking me for using a legal avenue rather than burning the city down.” She scanned their faces, letting the threat hang in the air. “I am the commander of the Piltover Army. She will be my soon-to-be wedded spouse. And I will stop at nothing—nothing—to get the legal protections we need to tear Mel’s empire apart.”

After a heavy pause, she stood, papers in hand, meeting Jinx’s gaze. “This meeting is over,” she said, voice clipped. “Return to your quarters. I have much to prepare.”

The councilors stood in stunned silence as Caitlyn and Jinx turned away. Once out of earshot, Caitlyn’s hand found Jinx’s, their fingers intertwining unexpectedly. Jinx’s lips parted, but no words came. She could only nod slowly, understanding what Caitlyn had just sacrificed: her pride, her position, her future plans. All for you.

Caitlyn leaned in, voice low so only Jinx could hear. “This was the only way without destroying everything she worked for. Everything we helped build with them. We can’t let Mel win. This… it’s our best chance.”

Jinx lowered her eyes, thinking of you—wounded, alone, waiting for rescue. If this marriage, this legal claim, was the key to saving you and Isha… then so be it. She nodded, voice caught in her throat, no teasing remark this time.

“Let’s do it,” she said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Together, they left the council room, hearts heavy but resolved, their entwined hands a silent vow to bring you home.

---------

A gentle hush enveloped the hospital room, the kind of quiet that felt protective rather than empty. The air carried the faint smell of antiseptic, mixed with the subtle scent of flowers someone must have brought. You stirred, groaning softly as pain flared in your chest. Instinctively, you clutched at the bandages wrapped snugly around your torso. Your heart hammered unevenly as reality drifted back into focus.

A chair scraped lightly against the floor. “Easy, easy,” Vi’s familiar voice cut through the haze, calm and steady. She stood and approached your bed, her presence a comforting beacon in your confusion. “You’re safe, okay? You’re in the hospital.”

You blinked, vision still fuzzy. “Vi?” you managed, your voice raspy. Your throat ached as if you’d swallowed broken glass. “What… what happened?”

Vi reached for a cup of water on the side table, carefully pressing it into your hand. “You’ve been out for almost a day,” she said quietly, her gaze warm with relief. She waited as you took a tentative sip. “After your… fall,” she began, her eyes flicking downward briefly before meeting yours again, “they rushed you here. Doctors, medics, everyone’s been working round the clock.” She paused, letting the severity of the situation sink in. “Jinx and Caitlyn are going to lose their minds when they hear you’re awake.”

Your memory was fractured, images of that brutal scene with Mel lurking at the edges of your mind. Something more important tugged at your heart. “Isha,” you croaked. “What about Isha?”

A softness touched Vi’s face at the mention of the child’s name. “She’s okay,” Vi said, her voice gentling even further. “Ekko and Sevika found her. She got pretty shaken up, but she’s safe. She’s been hovering around this place, I’m told, waiting to see you again. They’ve all been frantic.”

Relief so profound it brought tears to your eyes washed over you. You took a shallow, careful breath, wincing at the ache in your chest. “Good. That’s… that’s all that matters.”

Silence fell for a moment, both of you absorbing what had happened. The hum of distant hospital equipment provided a steady backdrop. Vi cleared her throat. “You know, seeing you fight like that…” She hesitated, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “It reminded me of when we were kids. Remember how I used to teach you how to throw a proper punch? How to stand your ground?”

A distant warmth spread through your chest, battling the pain. You nodded, eyes distant with memory. “Yeah, I remember,” you murmured, your voice calmer now. “I must’ve driven you crazy, asking questions and wanting to learn everything at once.”

Vi chuckled softly, the sound like a balm. “You were always ahead of the class, even back then. Quicker, sharper. I was proud of you then. I’m proud of you now.” She placed a hand gently over yours, her calloused fingers wrapping around your knuckles. The gesture spoke volumes neither of you needed to say aloud.

Your eyes found hers, sincerity shining there. “Some things never change,” you whispered, voice thick with gratitude. You squeezed her hand softly, and she returned the pressure.

Just then, the door to your room eased open with a quiet creak. An enforcer stepped inside, his helmet tucked under one arm. He straightened at the sight of you awake and inclined his head respectfully. There was something different in his demeanor—an earnest kindness that took you by surprise.

“Glad to see you up and about,” he said, voice sincere. “We’ve all been worried.” His eyes flicked between you and Vi, reading the relief in the air. “Now that you’re awake, I’ve got a list of visitors waiting for permission to see you.” He cleared his throat, as if unsure how to proceed. “Sevika and the child—er, Isha—are outside. They’d like to come in whenever you’re ready.”

You blinked, still feeling disoriented, but grateful beyond words that Isha and Sevika were here and safe. “Of course,” you replied softly. “They can come in.”

The enforcer nodded smartly. “Yes, Mrs. Kiramman.” He stepped back, placing a hand over his chest in a respectful salute, then pivoted on his heel to leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

Time seemed to stop for a heartbeat. You frowned, confusion knitting your brow. Mrs. Kiramman? You turned to Vi, and found her looking just as baffled. She frowned, lips parted as if to say something but no sound emerged.

“What did he—?” you began, but your voice failed, replaced by a swirl of questions in your mind. Mrs. Kiramman. A title you never thought you'd hear associated with you. Something monumental had happened while you were fighting for your life—something that left even Vi stunned into silence.

Vi shook her head slowly, a strange mix of wonder and uncertainty painted on her face. “I’m as lost as you,” she said quietly, still holding your hand. “But it sounds like Caitlyn and Jinx did something big… something huge.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

You swallowed hard, heart drumming in your chest. Whatever had taken place while you were unconscious, it was done in love, you were sure of it. You prayed silently that it would mean you were safe to heal and find your way back into their arms.

The hospital room fell quiet as the door swung open again. Isha burst through, her small legs carrying her straight into your waiting arms. You stiffened slightly at the initial jolt of pain, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the soft weight of her body against you, her arms clutching at your neck. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you held her close, breathing in her faint childlike scent. Relief swelled in your chest.

Sevika followed at a more measured pace, her mechanical arm catching the light. You lifted your head to greet her, and she gave a curt nod. “Took you long enough,” you teased, your voice still hoarse but laced with a faint smirk.

Sevika rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’re alive, aren’t you?” She huffed, but you caught the flicker of genuine relief in her eyes.

“Thanks for doing all the heavy lifting while I was out cold,” you murmured dryly.

“Sure, princess,” she shot back, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t get used to it.”

Isha snuggled closer, resting her head against your chest. The tension in the room eased. Just then, the door cracked open once more, and the enforcer from before stepped inside. He carried himself differently now—straighter, more respectful. “I’ve notified Commander Kiramman and Mrs. Jinx that you’re awake,” he said. “They’re on their way.”

You blinked. “Mrs. Jinx?” you repeated, confusion tugging at your brows.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, Mrs. Kiramman,” he said, placing a hand across his chest in a salute before backing out of the room.

Your eyes shot to Vi, who stood near the window. She looked just as puzzled. “Since when—?” you began, but Vi shook her head.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve been out of the loop,” Vi said, sounding both amused and wary. She glanced at Sevika. “You know something about this?”

Sevika pursed her lips, seeming suddenly stressed. “It’s better if Caitlyn explains,” she said gruffly, offering no more.

An uneasy silence followed. You took advantage of it to rest your head back against the pillows, relief flooding you at the sound of Isha’s gentle breathing. Your hand found her tiny one, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She was safe. That was the thought you clung to above all else.

After a moment, Vi spoke again, her voice softer. “After you fell,” she started, leaning against the windowsill, “it was chaos. Jinx and Caitlyn lost it—nearly tore the city down trying to find you. Everyone did. They got in, found Isha, got you out of the water and here… It was a miracle.” She swallowed, and her voice faltered slightly, emotion slipping through. “We all thought we’d lost you.”

You closed your eyes, imagining Jinx’s fury, Caitlyn’s tears, all of them searching and fighting. “I’m sorry you went through that,” you said quietly. “Glad everyone’s okay.”

Isha stirred at the sound of your voice and, realizing she was hungry, her little stomach grumbled quietly. You chuckled softly. “Guess we both need something more than hospital broth, huh?” you teased lightly, smoothing her hair down as she blinked sleepily at you.

Vi straightened, nodding. “I’ll get on that,” she said, giving Sevika a look. Sevika nodded, and the two of them slipped out the door to let the enforcers know you needed real food.

With just you and Isha left behind, you pulled her close, cradling her against your chest. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you surrendered to the quiet moment, letting the hush of the hospital and the beat of your own heart lull you. Isha’s breathing steadied, and soon you both drifted into a fragile, much-needed slumber.

->

Time blurred as you slept. Footsteps and hushed voices in the hall pulled you back from the edge of unconsciousness. The door outside your room was guarded, and two figures approached hand-in-hand—Caitlyn and Jinx. The hallway seemed endless, every step resonating with unspoken vows and sorrow. Caitlyn’s enforcers stood at attention, parting before them. In that subtle act, something had shifted: Jinx stood at Caitlyn’s side as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Neither woman questioned it.

Caitlyn gave Jinx’s hand a gentle squeeze. “No matter what,” she whispered, voice tight with worry and resolve, “I’m putting everything on the line. My position, my authority—everything. I won’t lose them again.”

Jinx nodded, her eyes red but fiercely determined. “We’ll make it right,” she said simply.

They entered quietly, bracing themselves for what they might see. Inside, the soft hospital glow fell on your still form, Isha curled at your side. The sight broke their hearts anew. The bandage wrapped around your torso, the bruises and cuts that marred your skin, the weariness in your half-lidded eyes as you stirred—none of it should have happened. Not to you.

Jinx reached you first, her hand gently sliding into yours, while Isha’s small hand cradled your cheek, all still half-asleep. Caitlyn came to your other side, leaning down to press a delicate kiss against your temple. You opened your eyes slowly, meeting their gazes, a small, wry smile pulling at your cracked lips. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you rasped, voice scratchy but light, trying to comfort them both. Your words made tears brim in their eyes, relief mixing with lingering fear.

You took a breath, steeling yourself, and began to recount everything that happened in Mel’s tower—her threats, her cruelty, her twisted plans. They listened, their faces darkening, jaws clenched. Jinx’s grip on your hand tightened, and Caitlyn’s eyes blazed with a silent fury.

The door opened again, and the enforcer who had come before stepped in. He greeted you warmly, happier than before to see you awake and stable. “Should I send Sevika and Vi back in, Mrs. Kiramman?” he asked politely.

Your heart nearly stopped. Mrs. Kiramman. There it was again. You looked at Caitlyn, searching for an explanation. Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, her eyes darting away. She looked nervous, scared even. You’d never seen her like this—Caitlyn Kiramman, Commander of the Piltover Army, rendered shy and hesitant.

Jinx raised an eyebrow at Caitlyn’s reaction, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the moment. “Go on, Cupcake. Tell ‘em.”

Caitlyn drew a shaking breath. “While you were… recovering, I took… measures,” she began, voice trembling slightly. “Legal measures, to protect you. I proposed a marriage—” She met your astonished gaze. “To you. On paper, you’re set to become my spouse, and that grants you certain protections. Not just my protections as an army commander, but under Piltover law, we can bring Mel to justice with no question.”

Your mind swam, shock and disbelief warring with gratitude and, strangely, relief. You opened your mouth but no words formed. Your throat felt tight.

Caitlyn forced a nervous laugh, wiping at the corner of her eye. “I know it’s sudden. I’ll have a ring made for you,” she faltered, then glanced at Jinx, swallowing hard. “For both of you, actually.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, then a grin spread across her face. She leaned over your form and pressed a quick, playful kiss to Caitlyn’s cheek. “Oh, this just got interesting,” she teased, her tone lighter, if only by a fraction.

You were frozen, speechless, as your eyes flicked between them. Finally, you managed a whisper: “I… missed a lot, didn’t I?”

They both laughed softly through tears, and you realized that, despite the pain and fear, you were surrounded by love. The future might be complicated, but you were alive, and they were here. You squeezed both their hands, letting your heart speak what words couldn’t.

->->->

A few days had passed since your dramatic return from the brink, and you now found yourself settled in Caitlyn’s quarters. You’d been warned not to overexert yourself, but that didn’t stop you from limping off the plush couch in the dimly lit living space and making a clumsy beeline for the kitchen. The glow of a single lamp cast your shadow long and wobbly as you favored your uninjured side, doing your best not to hiss aloud at every step. Your eyes were set on a simple goal: a glass of water from the cabinet across the island.

Caitlyn’s voice drifted from the next room, something about a meeting in the morning, but you weren’t really listening. Your entire concentration was on not knocking over that vase sitting precariously close to the kitchen’s edge. When you finally reached your target, you lifted your arm, only to realize the glass was just out of reach. You stretched, wincing, your ribs protesting loudly. You’d been through worse, right? Another stretch and—

A throat cleared softly behind you. You froze mid-stretch.

“I told you to use your crutches,” Caitlyn said pointedly, appearing at the kitchen’s threshold. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, eyebrows raised. Her disapproval was evident.

You tried to play innocent, but your attempted smile turned into a pained grimace. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, “I’ve been through worse. Don’t see why I’m not healing faster. I’m like… superhuman or something.”

Caitlyn snorted softly, moving towards you. “You were shot,” she reminded calmly, “nearly died, might I add, and most of your ribs are either broken or bruised.” She gently took the glass from the shelf and handed it to you. “I’m quite certain no one expects you to bounce back in a day.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks, Dr. Caitlyn. I didn’t know you had a medical degree.” You took the water, and before you could drink, she leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

“I care about you,” she murmured against your mouth, “and I’d rather you not end up back in the hospital.” But you, ever the rebel, attempted to deepen the kiss, leaning in suggestively. Caitlyn pulled back just in time, shaking her head and placing a hand gently on your chest. “Easy there,” she teased, “doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity—including that.”

You pretended to pout, shuffling your way back toward the couch. “Spoil-sport,” you muttered under your breath.

Just as you were about to plop down (carefully) on the couch, the door creaked open. Jinx breezed in, Isha’s small footsteps echoing behind her. Your face lit up, smile bright. “Jinx!” you greeted with an enthusiastic wave, which caused a twinge in your side. Ouch. Worth it.

Caitlyn wasted no time. “Oh, perfect timing, Jinx,” she said, crossing her arms. “Someone here decided to go wandering around without assistance.”

You shot Caitlyn a half-hearted glare. “Traitor,” you hissed softly.

Jinx smirked, sauntering over, her purple eyes gleaming with mischief. She leaned in and kissed you softly, her lips just brushing yours. You tried to pull her closer—only for her to pull away, wagging a finger as if scolding a misbehaving puppy. “Tsk, tsk. What did the doc say? No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity. I’d say that includes making out, too.”

You groaned dramatically, grabbing a plushie—a weird, fuzzy creature Vi had gifted you with a “get well soon” note—and tossing it lamely toward Caitlyn. It soared a pitiful few inches before flopping to the floor near her feet.

Caitlyn gave you a deadpan look, and Jinx giggled, thoroughly enjoying the exchange.

Sevika and Vi had stepped out to arrange more substantial food for you and Isha, who had quietly taken a seat beside you, eyes shining as you offered her a slice of pineapple from a small bowl someone had left on the coffee table. You winked at her, tossing a piece gently across the living room, and to your delight, it landed perfectly in her mouth. Isha giggled, the sound like a tiny bell in the tense room, and you cheered quietly, wincing again but grinning through the pain.

Caitlyn and Jinx moved over to the kitchen island, speaking in hushed tones. Their posture was close, intimate in a cautious way. You pretended not to listen, but your ears perked up anyway.

“I’ve filed the necessary papers,” Caitlyn said, leaning forward, her voice steady but her nerves clearly on edge. “The council knows I intend to marry them. It’s… unexpected, but I want to make sure Mel understands what she’s dealing with. This gives us a legal edge. If they’re my spouse, I have more power, more rights to act.”

Jinx folded her arms, at first stunned by the mention of marriage. But then she cracked a smirk. “You’re serious? Marriage. Didn’t think you’d pull that card, Cupcake. But I gotta say, it’s bold.” Her tone turned thoughtful. “They’re worth it. Everything we’ve done—this fight, the pain—we owe it to them.”

Caitlyn nodded, her eyes cast down for a moment. Then she looked up, her expression softening. She reached out and took Jinx’s hand, fingers curling gently around hers. Jinx stiffened slightly, surprised by the tenderness. “Jinx,” Caitlyn began, voice quiet but firm, “I know we’ve had our differences. Hell, we used to be enemies. But I’ve come to respect you, to admire what you bring to their life. And I… I think I’ve come to care about you, too.”

Jinx’s eyes widened. She tried to play it off, a teasing gleam entering her gaze. “Careful, Piltie. Don’t get sappy on me now.” But her voice shook slightly. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then yeah… I guess I feel the same. We’re all tangled together now, and… I’m not complaining.”

In that soft moment, the sounds of your quiet laughter carried over. Caitlyn and Jinx glanced at you, lying on the couch with Isha. Isha giggled again as you attempted another pineapple toss, this time celebrating more quietly as it landed near her. You smiled, half delirious with fatigue and medication, and waved your free hand at them, your grin lopsided but happy.

Jinx and Caitlyn turned back to each other. It was settled, then. Their differences were trivial compared to what they’d almost lost.

As the two women straightened, Caitlyn’s cheeks tinted faintly pink, and Jinx’s smile turned mischievous. Jinx leaned in and kissed Caitlyn’s cheek, a gesture that spoke volumes—an agreement, a partnership. Caitlyn blushed harder, and Jinx chuckled softly.

From the couch, you were caught in stunned silence, your brain still registering the domestic chaos and unexpected confessions. You finally managed to whisper in a playful tone, “I must’ve missed a lot.”

They both looked at you, eyes shining with a new understanding. And in that shared gaze, something deeper formed—hope, resilience, and the promise of a future built on unity rather than division.

->->->

Late night starlight trickled through the windows, painting the kitchen in quiet hues of silver and blue. You stood hunched over the kitchen island, your shoulders relaxed, the marriage papers spread before you like a map to a future you never quite imagined. The silence was comforting. You flipped through the pages, absorbing the legalities that tethered your life to Caitlyn’s authority—and, indirectly, to Jinx and Isha. You’d recovered almost fully now, your aches and bruises reduced to faint reminders, your chest no longer wrapped in bandages. Still, you took your time reading, wanting to understand every clause, every promise lurking between the lines.

You felt her presence before you heard her. Caitlyn, leaning against the wall just out of your line of sight, arms folded softly. You knew she was there, watching. She always did that—let you have your moment, your breathing space, while keeping a vigilant eye. You didn’t acknowledge her right away, focusing on a particular paragraph that detailed the legal protections and rights transferred upon the union.

Eventually, Caitlyn spoke, her voice low and gentle. “I’m sorry it had to be this way,” she said, each word carefully weighed. “I never intended to corner you into a marriage for legal reasons. But Mel’s… actions left us with little choice. This was the best way to ensure you’d be safe, and that you’d have the power to continue your work, to keep building that bridge between Piltover and Zaun.”

You paused, letting her apology settle into the quiet. You turned the last page, running your fingertips over the ink. Finally, you lifted your gaze and fixed it on Caitlyn. Her silhouette was touched by moonlight, highlighting the concern etching her features. The purple glow in your eyes caught her attention, and you saw her posture ease when she realized the shimmer in your blood had rekindled. You were healing, truly.

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, almost smiling. The worry in her face softened. The purple in your eyes meant something to her—strength, vitality, your unyielding spirit. “You’re getting stronger,” she said, her voice hitching a bit on that last word, as if it gave her comfort.

You leaned your elbows on the island, pushing the documents aside. “I’ve been thinking,” you began, choosing your words with care. “About Jinx, and you, and this whole arrangement. I don’t want Jinx left out. I never wanted that. I want… the both of you. For the rest of my life. No one else.”

Caitlyn’s lips parted, her eyes shining with an emotion she tried to contain. She nodded slowly. Without a word, she stepped forward and placed a small velvet box on the countertop. You raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips. “Quick to get a ring, aren’t you?” you teased lightly, expecting some band for you.

With a slight, nervous laugh, Caitlyn flipped the box open. You leaned in, only to gasp softly. Inside wasn’t your ring—it was one for Jinx. A beautiful piece, edgy yet elegant, something that would suit Jinx’s wild spirit. Your eyes flicked up to Caitlyn’s in quiet awe.

She took a breath and began. “I’ve come to realize something,” Caitlyn said softly. “I’m happiest when we’re together. All three of us. I think… we’re stronger that way. And I want Jinx to know that this isn’t just about you and me, or legalities. It’s about all of us. I want her to be part of this—of us—for real.”

You felt your chest tighten with gratitude and love. You let out a soft laugh, relief and warmth flooding you. Caitlyn’s confession made your heart flutter. You reached across the island, your fingers closing around her hand. You felt the coolness of her skin, the subtle tremor in her fingertips.

In that dimly lit kitchen, surrounded by silence and the distant hum of a sleeping city, you followed an impulsive spark. You moved quickly, your body barely protesting as you lunged forward. Caitlyn gasped softly, caught off guard, as you pressed your lips to hers. This wasn’t a light kiss—this was you pouring everything into it, your soul’s breath, your heart’s yearnings, your mind’s gratitude. All the pain, the fear, the relief, the love coalesced in that single, passionate moment.

Caitlyn’s free hand rose to your shoulder, and you felt her smile against your mouth, her breathing unsteady. You were aware of the faint scent of her hair, the soft hum of her small contented sigh. When you finally pulled away, you stayed close, resting your forehead against hers. Her eyes were wide, tears welling, and in that luminous haze of vulnerability, you whispered, “I love you.”

It was simple, raw. The words came out quieter than expected, almost breaking on a sob you didn’t know you held. You loved her. You told her at last.

Caitlyn’s eyes shone as the tears finally spilled over. She let out a breathless laugh, shaky but joyful. “You…” she began, voice trembling. “You love me… I love you, too. I love you so much.” She repeated it, as if tasting the words, as if by saying it again and again she could make it more real, more permanent. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You smiled, your face damp with your own tears. The world felt infinitely kinder in that moment. The darkness of the past weeks receded, leaving behind a fragile but glowing promise. Your heart, so long battered and tested, found solace in Caitlyn’s voice, in her words, in her love.

In the silence that followed, you thought about Jinx asleep in the other room, Isha dreaming peacefully, and Vi, Sevika, Ekko all working on a future shaped by your shared struggles. This was your family, unexpected and eccentric, forged in crisis and tempered by love.

As you stood there, forehead to forehead with Caitlyn, tears drying on your cheeks, you knew that no matter what Mel tried, or what storms lay ahead, you had something unbreakable. You had each other.

->

The city of Zaun breathed differently now—whispers of a gentler future drifted through its alleys, and the hum of machinery felt less hostile. You walked at a measured pace beside Sevika, your footsteps echoing along metal walkways and old stone paths. Rusted pipes and flickering neon signs painted a palette of subdued color over the streets, and you caught sight of fewer rough characters lurking in the shadows. It was as if the city itself exhaled a long, weary sigh and found some measure of calm.

Sevika tossed a small gear between her metal fingers, eyeing you with a guarded fondness. “You know,” she began, voice gruff but not unfriendly, “things’ve changed since you decided to play hero. Not so many muggings, not so many fights. The gangs keep to their corners, and I don’t have to watch my back every damn second.” She laughed dryly, “I’d say you’ve become a god here, but I know better than to inflate your ego.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “God?” you repeated, eyebrows lifting in amused disbelief. “Come on, Sevika, I’m just someone who wanted peace since I was a kid. Nothing more.” The thought made your heart warm. “I never planned on becoming some legendary figure. I just… wanted everyone to stop hurting each other.”

Sevika shrugged, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, you got what you wanted, for now.” She gestured ahead, where Jinx’s lair beckoned with its now more colorful lights dancing across broken beams and suspended platforms. The place looked different, touched by brighter hues and small tokens of cheer that hadn’t been there before.

When you reached the door, Sevika stopped abruptly and hesitated. Then, with a grunt that sounded too embarrassed to be anything but sincere, she pulled you into a sudden hug. Her mechanical arm clinked softly, and her human arm tightened gently around your shoulder. “Thanks,” she said quietly, her voice rough with something unspoken. “For everything. Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding,” she added, pulling back and feigning a scowl to mask how much that gesture meant.

You huffed a laugh, mock-pushing her away. “Sure thing,” you teased. “Just don’t complain about the seating arrangements.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, stepping back with a half-smile. “Whatever, I’ll take Isha with me. Give you and Jinx some time.” She waved off your thanks and walked away, footsteps heavy, as her form vanished around a corner.

Turning your attention to the lair, you entered slowly, eyes adjusting to the changing lights. The hum of music reverberated softly, a half-finished melody drifting from Jinx’s workbench. You leaned against a freshly installed railing—the edges no longer looked so sharp and dangerous. The place felt safer, more lived-in, as if Jinx had softened its edges in subtle tribute to the peace you’d fought for.

She hadn’t noticed you yet. Her goggles perched on her forehead, she tinkered with something small and metallic. The steady rhythm of her tools tapping and the quiet hum of the music created an intimate atmosphere. As if sensing your gaze, Jinx brushed her hair aside to fix her goggles and spotted you. The smile that graced her lips was different now—calmer, warmer, more full of love than mischief.

You pushed off the railing, crossing the space to her. “Working on something explosive?” you teased softly, voice low in the quiet room.

Jinx’s eyes sparked. “Maybe,” she admitted, her tone playfully secretive. “Let’s just say if Mel ever tries something again, I’ve got a few… surprises.” She turned down the music, her attention fully on you.

You stood before her, a good head taller, and as you reached out to brush a stray strand of her blue hair from her face, her lashes fluttered. She pressed closer, sliding her hands lightly over your waist. Jinx’s voice dropped to a whisper, “You’re so beautiful, you know that? The first time I saw you from above, I knew…” She swallowed hard, eyes glistening in the low light. “I knew you’d be someone extraordinary.”

Your heart twisted sweetly. Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes as you listened. Overwhelmed by how far you’d all come—Jinx, Caitlyn, you—and what it meant to be so cared for, so cherished. The tears escaped, sliding down your cheeks silently.

Jinx, ever observant, gently cupped your face, her thumb sweeping away the wetness. “You’re perfect,” she whispered, her voice quivering with intensity. “Your soul… it’s what the world needs. You, Caitlyn, and me—it’s crazy, but we fit together. We belong.”

You pulled her into a hug, your arms wrapping securely around her slender frame. She murmured reassurance after reassurance, stroking your back, calming the trembling in your chest.

As your emotions steadied, you leaned down to her ear, your breath warm against her skin. “Jinx,” you said softly, “I love you.” The words fell quiet but potent, like a secret only meant for her.

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. Something shifted—her pupils dilated, the hue of her irises flashing from purple to a brilliant blue, catching the faint reflection of your own eyes doing the same. A moment of quiet magic passed between you, some silent acknowledgment of a bond deeper than words. You both gasped softly, surprised and delighted by the sensation.

Jinx’s lips curved into a trembling smile, and before you could speak again, she grabbed your face and drew you into a deep, fervent kiss. You responded with equal longing, pressing her gently against her workbench. Her quiet whimpers and sighs rang sweet and gentle in your ears. She held you as if you might vanish, her fingers tangling into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

When finally you parted, both of you breathless, she whispered, “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

For a moment, the world stood still in the silence of her workshop. Just you and her, your heartbeats aligning. The distant hum of the city seemed muted, the future stretched open before you—complicated, challenging, but bright with possibility. And at last, you understood what it meant to be not just a part of Jinx’s life, but loved by her, and by Caitlyn, wholly and completely.

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

This is for that ANON. Here you go pookie lololol

[robo-writing]

hello! i usually just read your fabulous writing but i’ve had this stuck in my head for a while and i really like how you write logan. and i’m also not sure if anyone has asked this before 😭

i really love a pathetically in-love logan... the only thing that can get through the adamantium wall of a man is his sweet wife. him coming home from work straight to bury his face in his wife’s chest and neck to sniff her our as she tells him about her day. him also being like this in their intimate life 🫠 augh im sorry this is eating away at my brain.

I’m a wife guy Logan truther, the entire beginning of origins is just MWAH. (Headcanons below)

First thing he does when he gets home is take his shoes off. The second thing he does when he gets home is search for you.

It’s a good day when he gets to kiss you after work (which is every day), it’s a great day when you offer to take care of him too.

He’ll burn in hell before admitting to anyone he likes wearing your fuzzy spa-care headband, and he’ll burn a second time before big bad Logan admits his favorite smell is whatever the fuck’s in your moisturizer.

Hell, he didn’t even know what moisturizer was before he met you.

Even better is when you gossip with him as you’re shaving him

God, he REALLY enjoys when you shave him

It’s an excuse to sit you on his lap because “How else are you gonna get a good look sweetheart? Need you nice and close, gotta be accurate.”

Sometimes he’ll flinch and pretend you cut him, only to pull away with a shit-eating grin

That usually gets him a slap to the chest, but hey, it’s a LITTLE funny.

You also like to gossip with him—jobs, friends, whatever’s been happening with you—all while massaging his face with whatever funky concoction you’ve got in your hands (Toner baby, it’s toner)

“So, Jane got that promotion she was asking for,” you grin, and he knows whatever you’re about to say next is gonna be juicy.

“And she got it because she caught the boss cheating on his wife.”

It’s almost comical how wide his eyes get. “You serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles, making sure to keep you comfortable while he sits back. “Tell me more.”

It’s not all one-sided, sometimes he comes home and just has this inexplicable need to be next to you.

If you’re cooking, he’s standing behind you, grabbing ingredients and handing them off with a smile.

If you’re watching tv, he pulls you up and into his arms, making sure he can bury his face against your neck.

If you’re in bed asleep, he quietly slips his clothes off and gets under the sheets with you.

(18+) Even when he’s in more of a frisky mood he can’t seem to get enough of you, letting his hands roam across your torso, fingers bleeding lust as they grab at your soft skin

He likes to whisper all the things he thought about while he was gone—your sounds, your touch, your taste

And he’ll recite it all while his fingers play with the waistband of your panties

“Missed you sweetheart, missed you so much,” he mumbles, before letting the pads of his fingers slip beneath the fabric and play with the wetness that gathers on them. “Can tell you missed me too.”

[rezwrites]

Hello! Can I request Dark Agatha x Reader? Reader swears she's seen the same car following her since last week, but no one will believe her when she says she thinks someone is following her. When Reader returns home after a long day, she sees the same car parked in front of her house and her door is open, someone is inside.

Thank you!!!

No problem, here you go!

Warnings: +18 MDNI stalking, mind control/body manipulation, allusion to kidnapping

“Can you please hang out tonight?” You were leaning over the small table grasping your friend’s hand in yours. Practically begging her, a comical frown on your face. For the past week you’ve seen the same car everywhere. At the grocery store, parked right across the street from your home, even at your favorite small restaurant. “Maybe if they see someone with me, they’ll back off. Elaine, please.” You’ve tried telling your friends and family, but nobody believes you. They aren’t even willing to listen.

“You know I got my date. This guy is a keeper. A date on Christmas Eve? I can’t miss this.” She pulled herself away, taking a sip of her coffee. Waving her hand, she dismissed your fears, “You’re being paranoid. It’s probably just one of your neighbors having family visit for the holidays. You’re fine.”

Seething the entire elevator ride back up to the office, while Elaine babbles about the guy she’s seeing. You aren’t paranoid, you know for a fact that you’re being stalked. Tears of frustration brimmed your eyes as you briskly walked back to your office. You don’t understand why no one will believe you.

Dread loomed over you for the rest of the day. Watching the clock tick until it was time to leave. Even after clocking out you stayed late into the night, out of fear. The entire office building was devoid of and life by the time you left. Wanting to prolong your journey home you drove around looking at all the lights and decorations.

—

Turning on your street you spot the same car parked across the street from your home. Pulling into your driveway you sat for a minute trying to calm your frantic mind. Looking at the car in your sideview mirror you noticed it was empty. Letting out a deep sigh you slumped in your seat, doubting yourself.

Fishing out your house keys from your pocket you went to put them in the lock, only for the door to open once you grasped the knob. Heart sinking because you know you locked your door this morning. You frantically grabbed your phone to set up an emergency call.

Shit!

The phones screen refuses to turn on. It must’ve died in the middle of the day. Cursing yourself for forgetting to plug it in overnight and being in too much of a rush for work to even check the battery. Grabbing the pepper spray that hangs on your keys, you made your way into your house.

Mentally chastising yourself repeatedly as you looked around your home for any discrepancies. None were found, however, nearing the living room you froze upon hearing soft hums. Slipping your thumb under the cap of the pepper spray you prepared to defend yourself. Stepping out from behind the wall you spot a woman standing in front of the tree, a glass on eggnog in her hand. She carelessly pushed your family’s gifts around with her foot, before sharply turning around sending you a beaming smile, “There you are! I was starting to get impatient. Wondering when my gift was going to arrive.”

A frigid chill shot up your spine, your body suddenly enveloped by coldness. Fear sunk in your stomach staring at your ex, Agatha. Memories flooded back at how manipulative she was, trying to isolate you from your family, and friends. At the first opportunity you had you moved out, and far away from her. You tried to talk, scream at her to leave but your tongue was as heavy as stone.

“What the matter?” Faux concern etched on her face as she inched closer. Snatching the pepper spray from your hand her eyebrows arched. Scoffing Agatha simply finished her eggnog, dropping both the glass and small canister on the floor. All you could do was flinch hearing the glass shatter on the floor.

“Kringle got your tongue?” She cackled, “I’m sure you have a load of questions, but I can answer them after we do gifts tomorrow.” She stepped behind you, hands running over your torso. Black and violet blotted the edges of your peripheral vision. A hand crept under your shirt, nails digging into your sides. Her voice low and seductive, “And, Darling, I can’t wait to tear into mine.”

[luvologyy]

Headcanon and maybe idea for u if you’d like <33. I feel like Jimmy would like seeing his s/o cry during sex, not because he likes seeing you in pain necessarily (unless..) BUT because he can kiss/lick away your tears and it makes him feel like he has power over you that’s not necessarily making him ‘bad’?. Like ‘look how good I am, you’re all weak and emotional and I’m you’re big strong man who can make you happy’. Idek what this is called it’s a power play thing for him. Irl he can’t cope with any of his problems so he can pretend you’re the messed up one and he’s better than you and you ‘need’ him or whatever

A/n: haii anon, yall are getting creative with yalls ideas.. hehehe

Pearls of pain welling up ౨ৎ

Jimmy x f readerᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Nsfw! Mdni!

Tw!: dacryiphillia (duh), praise kink, p in v, degration, power kink?, kinda rough jimmy. Readers not crying from pain, just from overstimulation hehe ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Divider credits: red heart devider by cafekitsune on tumblr !!

★ with each time jimmy thrusted into you, his groans sounding more primal filled with lust. You became more and more needy. You wanted everything he could give you and more. The only thing you could feel was pure bliss. And jimmy knew that.

★ he loves seeing how needy and whiney you get for him, knowing he can give you what you want. But he won't. Unless you beg for it.

★ he'd be so focused on fucking you, nothing else would stop him. Until he saw tears stream down your pretty face..

★ diamond like streams drip down your face, whining and whimpery for him. So pathetic.

★ “keep going, please,” you begged. GOD THAT DROVE JIMMY CRAZY..

★ hearing you beg like that for him, all needy. Something carnal awoken in him. The feeling of all that power over you, he was proud of how we was able to make you feel such pleasure.

★ "ffuck baby.." God hearing you beg made him pick up his pace, his breathing becoming more heavy, moans becoming more loud and desperate. "Beg for me, baby. Beg for it."

★ he'd coo praises in your ear with each thrust.

★ jimmy loves watching you try to hold in your moans and whimpers, the way your face gets all puffy and hands start shaking, and squeezing him desperately makes something primal awaken in him. And watching the tears finally spill over your face when he makes you cum? He never knew how much he'd fucking love it..

★ he'd kiss your tear soaked face, stands of hair sticking to your face from tears. Peppering soft kisses all over you.

★ he'll lick your tears too, salty tears melting on his warm tongue. "Yeah baby, you like how good I'm making you feel? Yeah?"

★ ofc when you'd cry in serious situations, he'd care and show concern. But when crying from overstimulation?? His cock will twitch..

★ His pace picking up more and more speed by every second, his girthy cock bullying into your pussy. You could feel yourself getting closer to cumming.

★ jimmy knows what you want, he could feel your velvety walls squeeze his cock. He knows he'll make you beg. "You wanna cum so bad huh? Beg for it." "Cmon be a good girl for me."

★ you'd beg like your life depended on it, hearing you beg each time made his dick twitch inside you.

★ "Look at you, so pathetic for me.. fuckk." He could feel you clench tighter around him, feeling himself get closer "cum for me baby cum like a good lil slut." (SORRY I GOT LAZY..)

A/n: SORRY THIS IS SOO RUSHED 🙁 maybe I'll make a part 2 if yall are good for me.😉

[hazzashouse]

Forgotten - Harry Styles one-shot

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! This one is a bit sad but I hope you’ll like it!

Summary: After Harry forgets an important anniversary, tensions boil over into a heated argument that leaves both of you hurting. Harry is forced to confront his mistakes and the cracks forming in your relationship. Determined to make things right, he sets out to prove that his love for you is stronger than his faults.

Triggers: arguments/raised voices, miscommunication and emotional tension, feelings of neglect/loneliness in a relationship, brief mention of crying and hurt feelings

Pairing: Harry Styles x female reader

Harry stepped into the house, running a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind him. It had been a long day, back-to-back meetings and calls about the tour, and all he could think about was collapsing into bed.

But when he looked up, you were standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly, your expression a mix of anger and something sharper—disappointment.

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Your gaze flicked toward the dining table, and his stomach dropped. The candles, the neatly set plates, the untouched food—it all clicked too late.

“It’s our anniversary,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with restrained anger.

“Shit.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. He ran a hand through his hair again, cursing himself. “I—fuck, I forgot. I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“Got busy?” you snapped, cutting him off. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it, Harry?”

“It’s not an excuse,” he shot back, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. “You know how crazy things have been. I’m trying to keep everything together—”

“Everything except us,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Do you even care anymore? Or am I just supposed to sit here, waiting for you to remember I exist?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not fair. You know I love you. I’m doing all of this for us—for you.”

“For me?” You laughed, bitter and sharp. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t ask for your schedule to swallow you whole. I didn’t ask to be forgotten.”

“Forgotten?” he repeated, his frustration bubbling over. “I’m out there working my ass off, trying to balance everything, and you think I’ve just forgotten about you? That’s not how this works!”

“It’s exactly how it feels!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to explain, to make you understand how much he hated being away, how much he hated this argument. But the words got stuck in his throat, tangled up in his exhaustion.

You shook your head, tears shining in your eyes. “I can’t do this right now.”

Before he could stop you, you grabbed a blanket from the closet and headed for the couch.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with desperation. “Don’t do this.”

But you didn’t look back.

———————

The house was silent, the weight of your argument pressing heavily on Harry’s chest. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word you’d said. Forgotten. The word echoed in his mind, a sharp reminder of how badly he’d messed up.

Around 2 a.m., he gave up on sleep, his body restless and his guilt gnawing at him. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs.

There you were, curled up on the couch, your face turned toward the backrest, your body stiff even in sleep. The blanket you’d brought was tangled around your legs, barely covering you.

Harry’s chest tightened at the sight. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and it killed him to think he was the reason you were here instead of beside him in bed.

Carefully, he grabbed another blanket from the chair and draped it over you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. He crouched beside the couch for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

———————

When Harry woke up the next morning, you were already gone. A note on the counter simply said, At work. See you later.

The pang of guilt in his chest only deepened. He couldn’t leave things like this—not after last night.

When you came home that evening, the house smelled incredible—like garlic, herbs, and something warm and inviting.

You stepped into the kitchen, dropping your bag by the door, and froze. The dining table had been reset, fresh candles flickering softly, and a vase of flowers sat in the center. Harry was there, standing by the stove, wearing an apron that made you bite back a reluctant smile.

“Hey,” he said, turning to face you, his expression equal parts nervous and hopeful.

“What’s all this?” you asked cautiously.

He stepped closer, wiping his hands on the apron before pulling it off. “This is me trying to make it up to you. For last night. For forgetting. For everything.”

You stared at him, your emotions tangled. “Harry, I—”

“Please,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching yours. “Let me say this.”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, waiting.

“I know I’ve been…distracted,” he admitted, his voice low. “And I know I’ve been terrible at showing it lately, but I love you. More than anything. I hate that I made you feel like you don’t matter, because you do. You’re my everything, and I never want you to doubt that.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked away, afraid he’d see the tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m not perfect,” he continued. “I’ll probably mess up again. But I want to do better. For you. For us. If you’ll let me.”

When you looked back at him, the vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache. Slowly, you stepped closer, your walls crumbling. “You really hurt me, Harry.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice thick with guilt. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He pulled you close, his chin resting on top of your head as you finally let the tears fall.

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you had him back.

The two of you ate dinner together, talking and laughing like you used to. It wasn’t perfect—there were still things to work through—but it was a start.

And for now, that was enough.