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oonajaeadira · 4 months

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Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 4: Winter

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: Mature.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit. Canon-typical violence, bodily harm, death, (blood, broken bones, knife wounds, shooting, blunt force) and PTSD.

Summary: Revenge comes calling and you work though it as a family.

A/N: Series set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although it does use some characters/elements from the second game.

I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to get to winter. This one was difficult for me to face writing for reasons that may be made clear. But it was very rewarding. <3

The air is thin and cold this morning, takes your breath and makes a show of it as you quickstep it down to the stables. The sun is just starting to make the frost sparkle and no doubt Goldie will be using up the rest of the firewood at the Roost today.

Good thing you have a Joel who’s ready to chop more.

Although he’s also a Joel that’s forgotten his tea, the “stuff with the things in it” that Willa gave him for the stiffness in his knees. With this cold he’s going to want it today on patrol and the last thing you think you can stand is the tug in your heart when he comes home complaining of the cold and the ache and you sitting warm and cozy with his thermos on the counter when you had the legs to trot it on out to him.

It’s a relief to round the corner and find the patrol party still at the stable gate, Tommy helping one of the teens with their rifle strap, and Joel waiting on horseback, weaving his gloved fingers together, packing them down at the valleys to get his hands all the way in.

He’d laid one of those hands on your cheek this morning. Gentle. First thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Like most mornings now. His thumb rounding the rim of your cheek so he could lean in and take a good long drink of a kiss.

He likes it that way…soft, slow. Likes to pull you in as close as he can, twist his forehead into your temple when he hits his peak, jaw clenched in agonized pleasure, kisses along your jawline when you find yours, his eyes half-lidded and watching you in a hazy awe. He’s quiet but thorough, completely present like he can’t believe he’s got this little slice of warmth, sighs a hushed curse in your ear and calls you sweetheart in the same breath, and then sleeps like a baby the whole night through.

He doesn’t like to talk about the past much, but listening’s your specialty and it comes out in bits and pieces, stuck between the little he does say. You come to understand that he very rarely got to be very close with anyone while Sarah was growing up. There were the years when everything was a nightmare. Then there was Tess and she brought him out of that, thank goodness. But it took time. And there was also denial and survival and means to their ends. There might indeed have been strong love there. But you have the feeling he’s not had this–or anything like it–for a long, long time.

So if he wants it soft and slow, then who are you to deny him?

Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that it was him who pulled you in a little closer.

“What if you didn’t move in with Tommy and Maria this winter?” He’d lingered the morning after Christmas, leaning one shoulder against the frame of your bedroom door, savoring the show of you getting dressed for the day.

“And waste the fuel? Why? So we can cuddle up now and then without your brother down the hall? You keep me plenty warm, Joel Miller, but I’m not going to heat this whole house just for me and your more-than-casual visits. Everyone’s got a responsibility here to conserve in the winter. This is how I do my part. And besides,” you purred as he stepped in to button up your flannel for you, freeing up your fingers so they could run through his curls, “I know where you live and your bed’s good as mine.”

“You seem to like it there well enough.”

“I do.” His beard was growing in all but a patch on his jaw that was now your right to kiss.

“Well I was thinkin’ we just make it ours for the winter.”

His hands had circled your hips and his words had stopped your heart, but there was little for to say with his lips pressed against yours.

So mornings often started as they did today, waking to find Joel beside you, roused because you can feel him watching you with that little half smile that reveals the crack in his weary heart where the light shines through. Who needs spring to come with sunshine like that to turn to? Now there are family breakfasts with Ellie and cozy days knitting in the company of Maria and Riley and then warm nights with Joel on one of those pillowtopped mattresses that were all the rage before the outbreak…the ones that are great when you have a stiff back, but even better because the springs don’t squeak…

“Aw dammit,” Joel says when he sees you nearing the stables with the thermos, “Knew I forgot something.”

“Two somethings,” you say pointing to his bare head and passing your hat up to him in the saddle. “Your ears are already bright red. Here. Take my hat.”

“This’s Ellie’s.”

“Huh. Guess I just grabbed one on my way out. Oops. Be a man. Wear a pompom.”

He pulls it down over his ears and smiles. “Matches my scarf.”

You’d had a small batch of deep red wool you’d managed to squeak a hat and scarf out of and gifting the hat to Ellie around Christmas, but the scarf went to Joel. He may not want anyone to think of him as sentimental, but it was worth your while to make it easy on him by giving him something that was also practical. Even if he had his jacket zipped up all the way, it was always there, tucked around his neck; he may leave his ears to the elements but he never went anywhere without that scarf.

The line of horses start making their way toward the Jackson gates and you squeeze Joel’s shin before stepping out of the way, letting him and his horse follow the group. He simply lets a gloved finger glance your cheek as he passes by.

All the way out here on this side of the apocalypse and humans still have a million variations on saying “I love having you around and I’d like to keep it that way.”

________

“Ellie’s more than welcome around here if you and Joel don’t want to leave her home alone.”

Maria’s lightly bouncing a wet-faced and blubbering Riley on her lap, trying to tempt him with a frozen carrot for his teething. He has tommy’s curls and they sproing with every boing.

“Nah, she wants to come out. We’ll be dividing the ewes and driving part of the flock into the old town for the rest of the overwinter and she wants to see how it's done. Should see it, if she thinks she’ll be entering the rotation at any point. Speaking of,” you grunt, leaning down to gather your knitting basket and gather your things, “I promised I’d meet her after school. She’s gotten into collecting cassette tapes and the commissary says she’s hit her quota on goods this week. Gonna give up a couple credits so she can discover the wonders of Joan Jett and the Beastie Boys.”

“That’s throwing gas on the fire. She pick those out herself?”

“Nope. My points, my choice. And I say that girl needs to fight for her right to party and put another dime in the jukebox, baby.”

Maria rolls her eyes, chuckles, goes light on the sarcasm. “You’re the coolest auntie.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh, tying up your boots.

“Joel’s gonna just love that.”

Leaning in to bop a quick kiss to Riley’s head, you give Maria a crazed grin. “So much.”

Ten minutes later, Ellie has her doubts, holding up a cassette at the commissary. “But there’s a dinosaur on this one! How can it not be great?”

“Listen, missy. I’m not saying Dinosaur Jr. doesn’t have a place in music history, but I’m telling you that you’re likely to be disappointed. Trust me. Just this once.”

Ellie makes a face but you glance past it, distracted by what you see through the window behind her. Following your focus, she turns to look too. “Who’re they?”

All of the patrol horses coming back in have two people on them–a member of the party, and a stranger. And all the strangers can’t be more than teenagers.

“Dunno, but it looks like you’re about to get some new classmates. I’ll sign these out. You go ahead and make a good first impression.”

“You’re just sending me out there because you know if they’re infected, I can’t catch it.”

“If they were infected, they wouldn’t be on those horses or inside those gates. I’m sending you out there because you have a way of reading people. Go.”

Something in that puts a gasp in her throat and a sparkle in her eye and her ponytail whips behind her as she goes, striving to live up to the compliment.

But really, you just want half a minute to take a good look at the kids without Ellie asking questions. They’re all scrawny and filthy. Backpacks. Been traveling and living rough for a while now. Where’d they come from? What’s their story? Not an adult among them. How have they survived? You’d swear something feels off, but that’s the world now. Can’t be too careful. Everything seems off all the time.

Question is, off by how much?

You find Joel in the group; he’s the only one riding with a kid in front of him rather than hanging on behind. And once he gets down off the horse and reaches up to help his passenger down, you can see why.

She’s pregnant.

Shit. She’s what, fifteen? Sixteen?

Shit.

“There’s a house up near mine has good plumbing turned on.” Tommy’s speaking over his shoulder to the small group and leading his horse to the stable door as you come out of the commissary. “We’ll get you all washed up and fed. There’s at least two beds there and some other furniture fit to sleep on if it makes you comfortable to stay together. Give me a minute to put Lady away here and we’ll walk on up together. Joel? A word?”

Handing off the pregnant girl’s backpack to her, Joel takes the reins of his horse and follows his brother inside, leaving the newcomers to look around them and take in the town.

All but one. A girl with hair that’s neither light brown or dark blonde, somewhere in between. Your mother would have called it dirty dishwater blonde and you always thought that was rude. But your mother also would have said the girl had a hatchet of a face with a strong jaw like that. And it’s that girl whose head whips around the second she heard Joel’s name, quickly scanning the patrol to ascertain who belonged to it, and stands watching the stable door in thought long after the Miller brothers were gone.

Was Joel her father’s name? Her brother’s? Is it hers or close to hers? Is she a Jo or Joelle?

“Abby. Hey,” a boy calls and she turns. “Mel should get a bed and we can share. Manny and Nora can share too…if you’re okay with taking a couch.”

“Fine,” Abby says. Her eyes and mouth all unmoving lines.

“Hey. Welcome to Jackson. I’m Ellie.” Your starling jams her hands in her pockets as all the new eyes turn her way. “It looks like you’ve been wandering. Where you coming from?”

The boy who spoke before blinks and opens his mouth to say something, hesitates. You’d take him for the leader up until the moment Abby speaks for him.

“West of here. QZ. Seattle.”

“Oh. Cool,” says Ellie with a bounce to her nod. Easy. Instantly welcoming. “I came out of Boston.”

Seattle QZ. The same one your dead husband and his sister came from. Not a good place. Warring factions and nothing but oppression and disease, last you heard. Good that they got out. They’re gonna need to be de-loused.

But Seattle’s also much harder than most zones to break free of. You’ve been told the Western Liberation Front makes FEDRA look like a bucket of clowns.

“Seattle?” Now it’s your turn to pull focus from the group. “We’ve had refugees from there before. You really get out of there in one group like this? With no grown ups?”

Abby rips her eyes away from Ellie. “It’s a long story,” she says, shutting the questioning down.

There’s a moment that hangs between you and that stinks faintly of threat, but is mostly just the smell of feral kids. Tension breaks as the men emerge from the stable.

“We all ready?” Tommy says, making his way down the road and waving a hand for them to follow. “New home’s this way.”

Ellie starts to fall in with the group and you pull her back in close, speak low. “Go with them if you want, but keep your distance.”

“What? Why?”

“These are your first refugees. You’ll learn that they sometimes bring things with ‘em.”

Her face screws into a question mark. “What things?”

“Fleas. Lice. Viruses. Just give ‘em some space for a while.”

After the quickest flash of disgust, Ellie’s tried and true compassion kicks in and she gives an understanding nod as she turns to go, tape cassettes clattering in her jacket pocket.

You keep watching her even as you speak to the owner of the hand snaking around your waist. “Where’d you find them?”

“Up at the old crossing. They were under attack.”

“Jesus.”

“Nope. Infected.”

“Been a while since we’ve seen any of those stumble through here.”

“Infected? Or the kids.”

Turning to him in exasperation you look him over. “Both. And the same goes for you as for Ellie, Foxy. Let’s take you home and wash that scarf and hat. Run a fine-toothed comb through that hair just to make sure.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, stopping when he catches your zero-temperature glare. If it’s something else you love about Joel, he recognizes when something’s important to you and answers a lady with composure and respect. “Yes, ma’am.”

____

“You couldn’t have found her some Cash or Fleetwood Mac or something?”Joel grumbles into the fireplace as he places another log on the coal bed and moves the poker around like he’s doing something.

Ellie sits on a blanket near the fire, reading a comic book, headphones on, Joan Jett’s grinding guitar bleeding out into the otherwise quiet living room. With his face turned to the fire and Ellie facing away from you, she most likely can’t hear the conversation that’s happening around her if you keep your voices low.

“You’re just jealous that she asked me to pick something out instead of you,” you smile on the couch, picking up your feet and swinging them into his lap as he sits down beside you. “80’s rock is good for her spiky little soul.”

“80’s means trouble,” he counters, considering her as his hands absently squeeze and rub at your feet.

You go back to your book. Seemingly anyway. It’s easy to steal observing glances from where you are. The thoughtful concern he has for Ellie. You can see him looking over the wood in the hopper and calculating how many days of fuel he has before you all head out to the Roost. A twist of a lip tells you he’s realized he might be a day short and needs to chop more. His gaze drops to his lap as he lightly massages your feet–just running his hands along their contours, pressing a thumb in here and there to tenderize a muscle. The firelight loves him, plays at the edges of his curls, slides down his nose, kisses the purse of his lips.

You jump as he slides a tickling fingertip up the sole of one foot. “Hey!”

“What you get for staring.”

“I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading.”

“Must be pretty small print you don’t turn a page for five minutes.”

Taking off your readers and closing the book, you sit up and deposit them on the coffee table. From here it’s easy to scoot up to him and lean an elbow on the couch back. “What’s got you so thinky tonight, hmm? You look like you’ve got your worry pants on.” There’s a curl right behind his ear that’s so easy to twirl in your fingers and you indulge. You’ve found a little touch helps him open up.

“I can’t help thinking about those kids, thinkin’ they could just wander out in the world like that. If it weren’t for us hearing the runners….” He goes quiet a minute and you let him, his gaze haunting Ellie’s direction but living somewhere in the past. “They gotta be somebody’s kids. I can’t believe Seattle’s so bad they just let ‘em run wild…let ‘em run away from the best you got for ‘em.”

A faint guitar blares from Ellie’s headphones as she flips a page, purses her lips, absently nods along.

“Yeah, well teenagers rebel, Foxy. That’s what they do.”

“No,” he says, softly, resolutely, a tick of his jaw. “Not all of ‘em. Not if they’re loved. And fiercely. And I don’t know a love that isn’t fierce.”

It’s the look on his face that makes you believe him.

Love isn’t a word that Joel bandies about. It’s easy to see it work in him. The way he tells Ellie no when she wants to do something reckless but promises her something just as exciting, going to any length to make her smile. The way he holds Riley’s head in the crook of his arm, his other hand reflexively coming out in defense if anyone gets too near the baby’s soft spot. The way he shoves his brother with a laugh when Tommy picks on him or how he helps Maria to her feet when she’s been on the floor too long, even if she says she doesn’t need it.

The way he… with you he…

His hands work at your feet again. He understands the minute levels of his strength, knows how firm to go without bringing pain.

With you, it’s the way he rolls over and shows you his soft places, invites you in to be a part of it.

Not really what you’d call fierce. Does that mean he doesn’t–

“Is a cherry bomb like a little bomb or a big bomb?” Ellie asks, an earpad pulled away from her ear and spilling Cherie Currie’s stuttered chorus.

“It’s a little one. A firework. But it packs a big punch. It’ll take your fingers off. Hello, world, I’m your wild girl, I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb,” you sing, pushing your foot against Joel’s thigh with every beat.

“Alright, that’s it,” he says, wrapping a big hand around your ankle to secure it. “Ellie, run on up and get my guitar. Lemme teach you a better song.”

In the minute it takes for her to come back, Joel foregoes softness for force, tickling relentlessly, almost ending up with a foot in his face with how much you squirm.

___

Church isn’t really your thing, never was. You have your own way of listening to the beauty of the earth that doesn’t mean sacrificing a morning sleeping in to listen to lessons you’ve already learned and hold true.

But today you’ve come to the after-brunch curious to welcome the new residents and managed to show up a little early. So you’re standing in the back of the mess hall with Maria and Riley, waiting for the final hymn to end, for the preacher to call an end to the service and a beginning to the meal.

Maria leans in and murmurs in your ear as the final chorus comes. “Tommy and the crew are working on one of those bigger houses with the vaulted ceilings in the new district so the church can have its own building.”

“They’re not gonna like having to walk over there.”

She shrugs, adjusts Riley’s teething toy and bounces him up a notch. “Might cause some of them to move over there. Thin out the density. Easier on the power grid. We do have five new residents.”

You watch as one of the new boys–Owen–helps the pregnant Mel to her feet. “Soon to be six.”

Once the kitchen starts serving, Owen and Mel find their way over to your table, eager to meet Riley and ask Maria all kinds of questions about childbirth and your friend finds herself in a mentoring role she didn’t ask for. She’s not opposed to being helpful, just lets her judgment slide through on the whole babies having babies thing which completely flies over the kids’ heads.

They’re good enough kids, but something tastes a little sour when Owen tries to include you in the conversation.

“What about you? You and…is his name Joel? You gonna have any kids?”

It’s a rude question. He’s earned your side eye and he knows it, but smiles through it, playing innocent.

“Already got one. One’s enough,” you laugh, sly, chewing through some boiled oats and letting him know you’re gonna let that one slide.

“Oh, yeah, right. Ellie, right?” he asks, with a flick of his eyes to a table behind you. Turning, you find Abby at a table with some other residents and when you turn back it’s with a dry expression that tells him he’s worn out his turns at beating the bush and should be out with it.

“We just were wondering if she’d show us around,” Mel explains. “She’s the only one of the children here who will talk to us.”

You snort. “Don’t let Ellie hear you call her a child. She’s short for her age, but she’s not much younger than you. She likes people, but that won’t win you any points.”

“And don’t worry about the other kids,” Maria takes over, shooting you a look. “They’ll come around. A lot of them were born here and they don’t see a ton of new people.”

“Are they not coming to the brunch today?” Owen asks.

“Who?”

“Ellie and Joel.”

Shaking your head, you swallow your latest bite. “Joel and Tommy are off getting some work done in the new sector and Ellie would bite my face off if I woke her up before high noon on a weekend. But she knows where you’re staying. I’ll send her around to you once she’s up and acting like a whole human.”

You’re about to change the subject and ask them a few questions of your own but Riley starts fussing and Mel asks to hold him and the whole baby talk starts up again.

When you look over your shoulder, Abby is gone from the table. Left her dish for someone else to clean up.

There’s a thought creeps in that maybe Ellie can teach them all some manners. And then you remember the mouth on your starling and smile.

____

“And Owen showed me some of his drawings and they’re so amazing. He’s like a fucking Picasso or something. He says he’ll give me lessons if I can get Mr. Scowlface here to take him out hunting. Says he misses hunting deer with his dad. And Abby wants to go too. I told her how you taught me to use a shotgun and she seemed really interested to learn. She might want to join the patrols some day. But I told them not this week since we’re going out to the Meadow and they all had questions about that. Abby especially–”

Ellie has a remarkable talent for chewing and talking at the same time. She catches a piece of apple that escapes her mouth, slurping it off the back of her hand where it landed, then downs the rest of the milk and wipes her mouth with the cuff of her sweater, leaving you to negate your silent praise of her manners from earlier in the week and giving you a break in the chatter to speak.

“Well, you’re a little young to be recruiting your own Roostlings, but if Abby or any of the others want to come out sometime and see what the fuss is about, they’re welcome. I’d rather them wait until spring though, or at least until we get the whole of the flock back from the deep winter holding grounds. Chickadee’s taking up the caboose on that.”

As you push the carafe of chicory coffee toward Joel and clear the breakfast plates, Ellie snatches the last hunk of bread you left on yours, shaking her head. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

Joel scoffs. “Last car on a train.” He takes a long, loud drag of his coffee, pouring on the annoyance to get a glare out of the girl and succeeds. “Well, if she don’t like heights, she’s not going to enjoy learning patrol duty either, not with the watchtowers and the mountain trails. And don’t go promising services you can’t guarantee. I’m not a scout leader.”

“What’s a scout leader?”

“Someone with a lot more patience than me. Get.”

Taking up her backpack, Ellie makes her way to the front vestibule to pull on her gear.

“Don’t forget your hat and scarf!” You call to her, but smile at Joel as you perch your butt against the table and tuck a little curl behind his ear. He’ll ask you to cut it soon. And you’ll put it off for as long as possible.Tickles, he'll say. I know, you'll say.

“Thanks, Gramma Betty!” she calls back and pulls the door shut behind her as Joel lays a warm hand on your outer thigh.

“What’er you getting up to today?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m in carding mode. Got a whole bag of washed fleece needs combing. I’d ask you what you’re up to, but I assume you and Tommy are gonna be tearing down some poor old house.”

There’s a moment where he squints, thiinking. His thumb tracing the outer seam of your jeans.

“I want you to come with me. Got something to show you.”

“Really. Well I like the sound of that. I could use a little walk in the bitter cold with a mystery at the end of it. Gonna have to go pull on a heavier sweater though. Might need to take this one off first. You wanna come watch?”

There’s a knock at the front. Tommy. The door opening.

Joel only grins fondly and pats your thigh, sending you off, before pushing the chair back from the table and separating himself from his coffee mug. “I’ll catch the later show. ‘Specially if it calls for audience participation.”

Five minutes later, bundled and booted, the three of you head out toward the new section, Joel with his scarf tucked in tight and hat pulled down low, and Tommy with a set forced upon him because you’re quickly becoming the winter clothing police around here.

It’s not a long walk. Jackson was never more than a few miles wide and this is just the first expansion of the wall. You’ve wandered over during the construction crew’s activities enough to know the way without being led, but what you’re expecting is for Joel to lead you away from the furthest street, away from the beautiful A-frame house so neatly repaired along with its pretty neighbors and up the street with Tommy to the next clutch of houses they’ve been working on.

But instead, Joel tells his brother he’ll be along in a minute, and Tommy smiles knowingly as he continues on, leaving the two of you in the walkway up to the pretty A-frame that’s so much like the Roost’s bigger sister.

“You know what today is?” Joel asks, hands in pockets, squinting up at the peaked roof.

“Friday?”

“Probably,” he says, shifting focus to his boots. “I was thinking more holiday-wise.”

The air’s particularly crisp today, hitches in your lungs as you take each mental step and catch up with him.

February 14. Valentine’s.

As your mouth drops open, he jerks his chin at the house. “You like this one, right?”

“What…what are you….Joel?”

There’s a cringe that belies his confidence, maybe a tinge of regret. “I just figured we were gettin’ along so well, that maybe you’d… It was just an idea–”

He can’t even look you in the eye until you yank his hand awkwardly out of his pocket and wrap your gloved hand around his. He seems almost shocked to see your tears welling up–true, half from the cold–but he’s also relieved. Big breath in, big breath out. That must have been the hard part.

Words aren’t Joel’s way. This is how he tells you just how deep his feelings go. You know he’s had time to imagine with every window replaced, every floorboard leveled out, every load bearing wall reinforced, just which family was going to get to live in this house and what kind of life they might make in it.

What kind of life you might make together here.

So you take his lead and say only what’s necessary, as steadily as you’re able.

“Take me inside.”

His sheepish grin confirms that it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

The interior’s simple, but gorgeous. The dark wood gleams, and the whole back wall of the A frame is windowed. The triangle at the top replaced with a leaded stained glass in a sunrise of orange and rose that reflects the undertones in the timber inside and the pines out the window, the mosaic just high enough to catch the last rays that will come in over the mountains at the end of the day and turn the whole place into a dream. The open floorplan has the kitchen near the door, but over by the windows….

Joel gives the tour. The hand-laid stones in the fireplace. The built-in shelves for your books. This is the corner where your favorite chair can go, nearest the fire and where there’s good light for spinning. This rug was here, still good. He points out to the little shed in the back–a place for wool dying, he can hang pegs in there however you need them.

If he weren’t so occupied in explaining the wood he chose to finish the countertop, the way he followed the original dovetailing in the doorframe, the pattern he made with the reclaimed wood in the floorboards, he may have seen you admiring the most important part of the house…or, rather, the most important person in it.

There’s more. Two bedrooms, one off each side of the main part of the house, each with its own bathroom, the larger one with its own porch overlooking a little creek.

“The basement’s not quite done, but I figure I’ll just use that for my own. Felt you might not like the…vibe…”

Ah yes. The former owners. He took care of that too.

He took care of everything.

“I love it, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“If there was a stronger word, it would be yours, believe me.”

He only wraps his arms around you as you dive in to squeeze him.

“Good,” is all he says. Breathes in the scent of your hair. “That’s good.”

________

The ewes hate the leader ropes, but they follow, bleating now and then as you slowly guide them through the woods toward the Meadow’s north entrance. Joel’s got two behind his and Ellie’s horse, and you’ve got four behind yours, a small party, but the only ones that were ready to come on back out after the coldest weeks.

Goldie’s happy to lead them out to the rest of the flock while you and Joel go up and get situated, get warm, get ready for the week ahead. Ellie follows Goldie and Joel hangs his watch by the door. All’s quiet in the Roost.

Until Joel’s tongue clicks. “That beam is bowing,” he points up to one of the main rafter struts on the far side of the room. “Wood stove keeps this side warm and the snow melts off, but there’s no balcony on the other side. No way to rake the snow off the roof. Tommy should have known better.”

“Well it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice with big boy tree forts, I’m guessing,” you say, dumping a sack of potatoes near the cook pile and throwing the stack of fresh sheets onto the bed. “Does it need to come down?”

“Don’t think so. But come spring we’ll add on another balcony and do some reinforcement.”

As he runs his hand up the wall seam, you come up behind him, hugging him from the back with the sole purpose of distracting him, your way of letting him know he’s obsessing like an old man. It gives you the right angle to grab onto his open jacket and start pulling it off him. “Take this off and stay awhile.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Goldie takes her leave on your horse, guiding Joel and Ellie’s behind, glad to be going back to more warm water than she can heat on a stovetop, and Ellie helps to cart a few buckets of the colder variety up from the stream so you can all just stay in for the night.

Then it’s stew and cards, and Ellie kicking Joel’s ass at Scrabble, all of you bundled in wool sweaters and slippers handmade by you and Chickadee, the firelight glinting off the game tiles, highlighting the glee in the girl’s eyes, the resigned agony in Joel’s smile.

Almost a whole year now she’s been coming out here with you, and it’s wondrous how much she’s grown inside and out. You never felt lonely at the Roost, in fact, you had always very much enjoyed the solitude. Now you don’t think you could abide it. It’s only a home for a week at a time, but only when they come out here with you now.

It’s a nice night. Stars are out. Ellie’s still staring out at them as you and Joel fall asleep in the big bed.

_____

It’s the scent of woodsmoke that wakes you in the middle of the night, sitting you up straight in bed. Or so you think, except that the embers in the stove are low, so it can’t be that.

No. It’s a voice outside.

“Burn in hell, Joel Miller!”

Is that…Ellie? What’s she doing outside? No. Not Ellie. No it’s–

“Abby?” Ellie says blearily from the bunk above you.

There’s someone in the room moving swiftly toward you from the windows, hulking, with a rifle–

Joel.

“Get up. Both of you. Get out. The place is on fire.”

It doesn’t register.

“What? What fire? Joel? What’s happening–”

He shakes your shoulder, pulling you from the bed. “Get Ellie out. Now!”

There’s no other thought, just fumbling in the dark as Ellie jumps down beside you and dives for her jacket, shoving her feet into her boots without doing up the laces while you reach out one hand to catch hers for when it comes to you. The other gropes the near table for the walkie and thumbs the button.

“Meadowlark to patrol. Meadowlark to Goldfinch. We’re in trouble, there’s a fire and–”

The whole cabin sways. A gunshot from the balcony. Joel growling over his shoulder. “Get out! Now!”

“Joel–!”

“NOW!”

The ladder is still sliding down into place when you jump on it and ride it part of the way down, still waking up as Ellie’s boots come fast, almost kicking you in the face as she follows you down the rungs two at a time, moving through a plume of choking blackness only to come out below it to a roaring bonfire that’s eating through the Roost’s supports.

Oh god. The Roost…

is burning….

“JOELLLLLL!” you scream up as your stocking feet hit the ground hard, as you catch Ellie and pull her off the ladder and stumble backward, as something hits your head hard and causes you to let go, as separate sets of arms grab each of yours and drag you roughly backward, fast enough to keep your feet from catching up until you’re on your knees.

There’s a crackle in the air– “Patrol to Meadowlark. What’s the trouble?”

The walkie lies somewhere in the pine needles just out of reach and you’re screaming at it for help but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of names and no’s and helps. You’re able to yank your non-dominant arm free, pitching forward, clawing for the radio, until a flash of hard silver–a meteorite, exquisitely dense and smooth, malignant, swift, direct–cracks down on your forearm with a sickening thud, shattering the bone.

The world slides out of focus through a screen of sudden pain.

At first, you assume you’ve been shot in the arm. But then a figure steps around to your line of sight. Abby. With a golf club? What? Why? Where did she get that? The commissary? Why the fuck would they stock golf clubs? What the fuck is going on?

And you watch as Abby picks up the walkie. Tosses it into the fire.

The hands are back upon you now, forcing you back to your knees, and a third set joins them, wrapping around your forehead and chin, pulling you back against a belly and you struggle.

Where’s Ellie.

You’re able to twist your head to one side despite being held. She’s there on the ground, face down, groaning, with Owen’s knee in her back.

“Ellie? Honey?”

One pair of hands holding you twists you hard, meaning to pull you further away from her without compliance from the other hands or consent from your muscle structure and there’s a sickening pop as your shoulder leaves its socket and then your scream drowns out everything even the roar of the fire.

“She keeps it in her pocket,” Abby says. Rooting into Ellie’s pocket, Owen finds the knife and pulls it out–the one she cherishes, imbued with the legend of her mother, given to her on the same day as her name, her life, and her orphanhood.

The day Ellie told you the story, you’d taken steel wool to the knife and cleaned it. Oiled the hinge. Shined it up good and pretty.

It flips open easily in Owen’s paw. It twirls swiftly around, and points downward, his fingers closing over the hilt, thumb curling over the butt of the handle to give it more leverage when he’s ready to bring it down.

The night is horribly black and lit along the edges in orange fire.

There’s a loud crack. Owen’s thigh explodes in a splatter of blood and he falls backward off Ellie, screaming. The hands around your head let go and Mel runs to him.

Joel stalks out of the plume of black smoke, cocking the rifle, pointing only long enough at Owen to confirm he’s down and then swinging the barrel around to Abby.

A stand off. No sound or movement but the whoosh of flames and a few ground-muffled cries from Owen, a few sniffles and shushes from Mel.

“Who the fuck are you,” Joel growls out over the steel barrel, his cheek quivering in barely hinged anger.

Abby stands, solid, unyielding, straight as the blonde braid hanging down her back, club wound up tight, ready for the pitch, a face full of lines and soot and destruction.

“The last survivors of the Firefly massacre. You didn’t think to check the rest of the compound? Like the whole team was just one-offs? Like none of them had family, you sick fuck? You fucking orphaned us. Left us to fend for ourselves. Go ahead and shoot, old man. Marlene always said you weren’t so good at keeping kids alive, actually surprised you got as far as you did. So go ahead. Not like we’ve got nothing to lose. We just came to return some favors and finish the job.”

It’s only in the moments later, before the dawn, when you’re laying on your back looking up at the stars, one arm laying broken and useless in the snow beside you, the other cradling a weeping Ellie Williams as tight as you can, that you’ll be able to slow the film of your memory and play out the next thirty seconds frame by frame.

The series of snaps and cracks as the support under the Roost gave way and the whole structure tumbled out and away from the scene, pulling several pines down with it, the crashing and burning the only sound you remember now.

Ellie trying to shuffle along the ground toward you and away from the fire.

Owen pulling himself up enough to raise the knife and bring it down into the meat of Ellie’s calf.

Owen’s body flying backward as a bullet ripped through his skull.

A wrench of your neck and the warm splash of blood from above you as another shot rang out, one person holding you falling away and back, gone, but still pulling you down with their dead body.

The roar of an angry Abby and the clank of a club shaft on a rifle barrel.

Another gunshot.

The sound of metal hitting flesh.

Thirty seconds. And now you can see the stars. Orion. The Milky Way.

Somehow you’re lying yards from the little patch of burning trees with Ellie cradled in your good arm. Someone dragged you here.

There are voices and flashlights. The patrol. Bear and Tommy. Goldie and Willa and Chickadee.

And Maria. Laying on the ground beside you, exhausted from the effort of dragging two humans out of the burning thatch of trees.

“Joel. Where’s Joel.” It hurts to speak. Breath comes fast and shallow.

Then he’s there with the others, a bruise blooming purple beneath his eye, saying only what scant words he needs to move past them and get to you. To Ellie.

His hands are gentle, but his eyes are cold.

Two still, black pools reflecting fire.

_______

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you dream of Troy, his mangled face open and bleeding, laying in the hole next to Ash, mutilated, stopped at the moment of transformation into something more sinister, your ex-husband and his sister lost to you because they were headstrong, foolish, too devoted to each other….

Ash’s eyes open, what’s left of them anyway. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

They didn’t know the Roost was elevated. They followed us out here and didn’t have a good plan. Is that it?

They don’t answer. They get up and climb out of the hole, turn their backs on your and walk into the forest. You call after them, desperate to have them back after all this time, begging them not to leave you.

But you’re calling after them wrong. You can’t seem to say Troy. You can’t say Ash.

You’re only calling out for Joel and Ellie.

_____

The next thing you know, you’re sitting up in the snow, leaning against Goldie, the girl patting at your cheek as you’re coming around. “Come on, come on back, baby.”

The sun’s up, but not high enough to breach the mountains circling the meadow. Everything’s still lit by the slowly dying flames.

The one two punch of Willa setting the bone and popping your shoulder back in must have sent you off. Looking down, you see you must have thrown up as well.

“Holy shit,” you groan, “I’m sorry. Oh my god, holy shit that hurts.”

“I know, I know,” says Goldie, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead.

“Here,” says Willa, handing you some dark root. You forget what it’s called, you just know you gotta chew. “Don’t swallow,” she reminds you. “You ride with Goldie. She’ll keep you upright once that sets in.”

“I gotta get up,” you mumble, struggling to stand and inhaling sharply at the twinge of pain the movement brings to your bandaged and immobilized arm. Goldie’s able to help get you up, but seems hesitant to let you go. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my feet, lemme go. Where’s Ellie?”

But you don’t need to ask, she’s just behind you, laying on her back in the snow, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing heavy to manage the pain, leg bandaged and tourniqueted.

Good. Next priority. “Where’s Joel?”

Goldie points to the fire. It’s starting to die down, enough to make out the bodies of three teenagers consigned to the flames. Past them, the group of the regular patrol. Joel shaking his head at them, speaking. Jacket zipped up to the top, no scarf, no hat; probably got left behind in the Roost. Rifle over one shoulder. A backpack over the other.

But not his backpack. Why would he have someone else’s backpack? Why would he have one at all…

He’s…. No.

Pushing off Goldie, you immediately find out that walking is hard. Even if the pain’s just in one arm, everything’s connected, everything hurts; it’s disorienting. Your knees are bruised and even your soft sleep pants feel like sandpaper on them. Feet cold and wet, no boots…

Joel sees you struggling to get to him and walks away from the group and the fire, meeting you partway, catching your good arm as your fist falls hard on his shoulder and yanks, fingers digging in hard to his coat, doing your best to hold on tight, to keep him here, to convince him not to go.

“Don’t you dare, Joel Miller. What do you think you’re fucking doing???”

He says nothing, only lets you collapse onto his chest, to sob. There’s not even an arm to comfort you, he gives you nothing but the bare necessity, a wall to keep you standing, and you know nothing you say will make a difference. In essence, he’s already gone.

“Please. Joel. Don’t. Please don’t go.”

“Trail’s fresh. Best to get on before it snows and covers the tracks. One of them’s the pregnant girl. One of them’s bleedin’. They can’t get that far.”

“You don’t have to. Just come home.”

“They’ll just come back. Maybe not soon, but someday.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Stepping back, it hurts to look at him. The Joel you love has been asked to step aside, the care and fondness he’s come to show you locked up somewhere secure, somewhere where it won’t get in the way.

I warned you, this Joel seems to say, void of emotion, jaw set, brow even and low, hand on the strap of his rifle. You took me in knowing exactly what I am.

He’s right.

“I need you here, Joel. Ellie needs you here. Don’t you dare go…unless you can come back.”

“I need you here too. ‘S why I’m going.”

Nothing. No kiss goodbye, no waiting for approval, he just turns and walks.

Maybe this is the last of it, just one last loose thread, then he can finally leave off wandering, finally shake off the killer and just come home, just be your Joel.

Convincing yourself of this is the only choice you’ve got.

________

You find yourself out on Maria’s back porch that night. Unable to sleep from the ache of the mending bone and the swell of your assaulted shoulder, it seemed like the best remedy was to find the toughest jerky in the kitchen, to sit on the porch in the cold and chew through the pain, and to lean back in one of the porch chairs with a soothing snowpack between it and your back.

The moonlight plays illusions like the canteen filmstrips–a summer image of Tommy and Joel teaching Ellie the mechanics of tackle football. The twinkle of the fireflies lending veritas to the picture…which in reality is only the twinkle of a dusting of new snow.

Not enough snow to make tracking impossible, but enough to make it difficult.

The back door opens and a blanket lands over your lap.

“Was gonna ask you if you wanted company, but then I decided, it’s my house and you don’t get a choice.”

Maria plops her own blanket in a nearby chair before disappearing and returning with two steaming mugs of tea as offering for the table between you. She takes her time covering you just so before wrapping herself up and joining you on the porch. “Suppose I should have asked if you want that cold pack changed before I get too comfortable,” she says, not really offering, but leaving the suggestion there between you if you need it.

It’s not necessary to talk for a while. She knows exactly what you’re thinking. Sees what you see.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Riley did,” she lies. You’d heard her shift when you got up from the bed–her bed, well, hers and Tommy’s. But hers and yours for now.

“Thanks for taking care of us.”

“You say that like you’re not my family.”

“Well then, thanks for staying behind as if you are.”

It’s hard to see her out of the corner of your eye, backed by dark shadows. But the moon plays little crescents on her face, the curve of her nose, her cheek, her chin. Her voice comes out velvet from the dark.

“I know you’re pissed at Joel for going, but he’s doing the right thing.”

Now you make the effort to turn, rotating more from the waist than the neck to save the injury from twinging, but it does anyway, mirroring your spike in irritation. “Really? You think so? Is that why you sent Tommy with him? After all that time you spent bemoaning the things Joel made Tommy do all those years ago–”

“This is different. This is about the greater good.”

“You know that’s what the villain always says, right?”

She presses her lips together, hating that you’re right. “Okay, so maybe not the greatest good for the morality of the remainder of the human race, but. For the good of Jackson.”

“Two grown men hunting down two teenage girls is the greater good.”

“They won’t be teens forever. They’ve both got reasons to come back for their revenge. And now they know where Jackson is. They get taken in by the wrong people, and then the wrong people will know where Jackson is too and when they come back they won’t be alone. They’ll know exactly how many and what kind of folk to bring.” She holds your gaze for a few seconds, steady and wise but also warning, her warmth only thinly veiling the matronly protectress behind it, like a Durga on her throne. “You know why we have patrols. You know what happens to people that get too close. Two more drops in the bucket is all.”

“Three. One of those little girls is pregnant.”

She has no answer to this. Rather, your dig brings no new argument to the table. It’s just words, just a fact on the wind. It doesn’t sway the needle one way or the other.

It’s exactly what you’d been thinking about, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. Then out here on the porch. It’s like she knew you needed to hear the justification out loud.

“They would have killed him, lady. And Ellie. And you. I’m surprised you don’t want them hunted down like dogs.”

You turn your attention to the back yard, the smallest hump of leaves under the big tree there not quite scattered to the wind, sparkling with snow cover. You can almost still hear Ellie’s high laughter as it sounded the day she experienced her first leaf pile.

“Oh, I want them run down,” you say. “I’m all for that, let ‘em eat lead. I just didn’t want…” It’s not really necessary to continue. Maria knows exactly what you want. She always does. That’s why she sent Tommy with him. To keep him tethered to humanity.

To the way Joel watched Ellie jump and disappear into a poof of leaves. The sun in his smile. At peace. At home. Free from the old violence. Reborn.

I just didn’t want Joel to be the one to do it.

______

Maria’s dinner table feels empty. Funny, you think, it was always the two of you. For a while there was four, what with Troy and Ash, but most of the time just the two. Then Tommy. Then Joel and Ellie. Now Riley…well, that is, if he’s still up during family dinner.

You’ve slept through most of the light of day and was hoping to talk to Ellie at dinner, but Maria’s been taking all her meals to the guest room for her. Mostly so she doesn’t have to walk down the stairs on her healing leg, but also because Ellie’s not been talking since that night.

And you can guess why. It has less to do with the injury and assault or the fire, and more about the truths she learned during them.

Not much to do. The arm has to stay stable, strapped to your body. At least they fucked up the non-dominant one so you can still hold a fork, still brush your teeth. But knitting? Spinning? Helping Maria clear the dishes? Fat chance.

Not much to do but chew root, smoke wild weed, and sleep it off.

Maria reappears with a plate needs washing. “There’s a break in the clouds. I got three whole words out of her. This might be your chance.”

“Oh. Joy.” It’s getting to be less of an effort to stand now that you’ve got rest and food in you. The stairs are daunting only because of the conversation that waits at the top.

A knock on her door only grants you silence.

“I’m coming in, Starling girl. Best not be naked.”

No answer. You take that as the opposite of opposition. Tolerance.

She’s sitting on the bed, propped up by pillows behind her back and under her knee, her bandages freshly changed, no more blood pooling or free bleeding. She plays with the cuffs of her sweater, tugging at a loop in the knit, a book abandoned by her side as if she’d put it down when you knocked. A good sign. She doesn’t want to hide.

You crawl in beside her, awkwardly, one-handedly, a big showy sigh of relief when you finally land. “You know, if I was your mom, I’d probably start off with ‘what’cha reading there, kiddo?’ just to get you to say something, but I’m not your mom and I’m not here to make you talk if you don’t wanna–”

“Well I don’t.”

“Good. I didn’t come up here to hear you yap anyway.” You detect the tiniest twitch of her cheek, not quite a smile, perhaps a sneer…to scare away a smile. “Don’t talk, just listen.”

“I don’t wanna do that either.”

“Tough titties. I’m cashing in exchange for all the time I had to listen to you go on about Sally Fucking Ride.”

Now she does smile. Barely. Gives you the teenager face you wanna slap sometimes. “Tough titties? Really?”

“They didn’t have tough titties in the orphanage? Seems off-brand.” The smile fades. “Tell me how you’re healing. I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”

A big breath in. But the air doesn’t come rushing back with a dramatic sigh, just melts out of her with a single tear she doesn’t move to brush away.

So you do. “That bad, huh.”

“It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks so bad.”

“Heh, tell me about it. I miss the good old days of ibuprofen. Shit. I miss morphine. You’re young though, you’ll be up and running in a week or two. Me? I’m gonna be aching for–”

“He fucking lied through his teeth.”

Ah. There it is.

Now the colony of tears follows the first scout, pouring out over the plains of her cheeks until she covers her face with those cuffs she’s been picking at, relieved at being able to let it all out in front of someone who might understand, but probably scared as hell to let herself be this messed up in front of someone who might not. A gamble.

And a win. You’ve still got one good arm and you put it to good use, pulling her into your side. “Yeah, you’re right. He totally did. He’s a fucking asshole. Why the hell would he do that.”

“It wasn't time that did it,” she hiccups from under her woolen cuffs.

“I don’t know what that means, Starling” you say, unable to stop yourself from kissing the crown of her head.

She wipes her nose and comes up for air. “I mean I know why. But he fucking lied about everything. Straight to my face.”

“Well, you’ve got every right to demand an explanation and an apology when he comes back. Straight to his face.”

“If he comes back.”

You let that sit a moment between you. It’s her way of saying that she knows you’re mad at him too, that she heard the conversation you had with him when he left. It’s her way of poking at your own fears and getting you on her side.

“Those girls aren’t armed and the Miller boys have a lot more experience with being hunters than those kids do being prey. He’ll be back.”

“I hate him.”

“I know. But also. You don’t.”

“I had a… a purpose. A fucking purpose.”

“Well….I know you did, but…probably not so much as you think.” She looks up at you but you can’t meet her eye, she’s right to mourn, and you can’t deny her that. “Remember what I told you about my sister and her treatments?”

“The research hospital.”

“Yeah. Cancer’s been killing people on this earth far longer than cordyceps and they’d had millions of patients to test on. Still couldn’t crack it. How many people are immune like you? Because if it ain’t millions, you just become one part sample in a petri dish and another part dead body that maybe give some vague clues and then you’re all parts in the bin, end of story. I mean, I’ll be honest. I don’t blame him. You’re quite a keeper.”

Now her sigh is dramatic. “And then he fucking lied about it.”

“So you would feel good about it. Accomplished in your goal. Also so you wouldn’t hate him for caring about you more than you do.”

“Why didn’t he just say–?”

“Do you know that man to be good with words?”

This quiets her. Both of you. For a few minutes. She goes back to picking at her sleeves.

The sun’s set completely now and her little bedside lamp can’t even drown out the stars so bright on the other side of the window. Clear night. Cold out there.

After a moment you take your arm back, jostle her with your shoulder. “Hey. I’m going out to the Meadow tomorrow, check in with Willa, look over the damage. If I bring you back a piece of the Roost, you wanna do some carving or whittling or something? We’ll build a platform like the old one and it’s probably just gonna be a tent up there for a while like it used to be, but hopefully this spring or summer we’ll get a structure up there and we’ll need a cornerstone or a plaque or something signifying its importance. Since you’re on your ass all day with nothing better to do, and you’re the star recruit, I’d love for you to do it.”

Her lips twist, half smiling at the request, but then in regret. “I lost my knife.”

“The one from your mom?” She nods. “Well if you’ll do some carding for me while I’m out there, I promise to look for it, ask around, maybe one of the patrol picked it up, okay?”

“Okay. Oh. By the way…How are you healing?”

“I’ve been worse. But mostly I’ve been better. Thanks for asking. ‘S kind of you. But don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay. Um…I’m…sorry about telling them about the meadow and all.”

“Why? You’re a Roostling. It’s your story to tell.” Sliding off the bed you head for the door. “Oh hey. I meant to ask–” you nod at the book by her side. “What’cha reading?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh…just porn.”

“Cool. G’night.”

“‘Night. Hey Meadowlark?”

You poke your head back in before the door closes completely. “Hm?”

“Thanks. For all that. But mostly for not calling me kiddo.”

You smile. Nod. Give her a warm wink. “Sure. I gotchu, kiddo.”

It’s worth the eyeroll you catch as you close the door.

________

The most sickening part of coming in through the north passage isn’t seeing the burn scar on the pine grove in the middle of the Meadow, isn’t missing the outline of the Roost through the trees, but rather the feeling that your home has been breached, that for a moment it wasn’t safe and now you’ll always wonder if it will be.

Riding across the north plain, you close your eyes and breathe, let the horse plod on without your guidance, he knows the way. Once spring comes and the valley fills with flowers and the music of the lambs calling for their ewes takes over from this cold silence that comfort will be renewed.

But for now, there is no comfort on the Meadow in winter, not without a pretty little fireplace and a warm spot to watch the snow build up on the mountains.

You know what’s coming, but it turns your heart inside out all the same when you open your eyes.

Where once there was a cabin in the treetops is now a void leading downward to a pile of blackened rubble and debris. Off to the side under some lower trees is the old canvas tent with the vent hole and a friendly little trail of smoke rising from it. Willa always knew her way around a fire and didn’t mind keeping a low one going on the inside. You never were that confident, even with a fire-treated tarp.

She’s been at work out here, pulling useful things out of the rubble. The woodstove. The pulley jacks. A few timbers that are mostly unburned.

But there’s a pile of other things too, useless items that shouldn’t be mixed back in with the earth: a burned walkie. Twisted silverware and blackened plates. The iron tools from the rafters. Shattered tile. Your charred and mangled boots.

All that’s left in the major wreckage is wood. And glass. And bones.

Three blackened skulls, three sets of eye sockets and three jaws gaping up at the sky as if they were caught in the moment of realizing their plans were going terribly awry.

Stupid fucking kids. ….Just kids.

If someone asked you how you knew which one was Owen’s, you wouldn’t be able to say. You just know. The memory of him sinking that knife into Ellie’s leg…of hurting her…intent to kill… His skull breaks like a cracker when you put your weight on it.

Willa doesn’t say anything when she comes up along side to stare down at the bones with you. It's not the first time you've stood with her at the edge of a burned down home.

"I hate that it’s gonna take me a while to sift though all this,” you say.

“We’ve decided to skip your turn for a while. At least until there’s a new platform.”

You nod, resigned. You don’t love it, but it’s best. Trauma lingers longest of all hurt.

“How’s the flock?”

“They’re over it.”

“Figures. Fluffy shits. Any chance you found a pocket knife out here?” You ask her.

She nods, reaches into a jacket pocket and there it is, like it’s been waiting to come back to its keeper, made itself shiny and easily found. It’s passed between you like a sacred object, holy, a relic saved and cared for, a thing infused with deep love and meaning. There’s an instant relief as your fingers curl around it, your shoulders relaxing and releasing a little of the pain.

“Thank you.”

“There was this too.” From the same pocket Willa pulls a disk of silver and glass, turning it over and placing it in your hand with the knife.

The watchband is burned away. But it’s otherwise unharmed.

Willa may be a stoic, but she knows enough to recognize a release through tears and to hold you while you cry.

Later that afternoon when you knock on Ellie’s door, you’ll hand her the knife and a piece of the old Roost to carve to consecrate the new one. And then you’ll give her the watch and ask her to be your hands, to help you with one more thing.

________

Two days later, you’re standing in Joel’s living room, never having been here when it’s so quiet, dark, and cold. With you and Ellie staying with Maria, there’s been nobody here to light a fire, to make the place live. You wouldn’t be here if Maria hadn’t made a side comment about maybe you and Ellie’d been in the same clothes for a day too many. Not that you thought you’d be with her that long.

She was right. It was nice to change into something clean–a soft fleece and some sleep pants. While the sword of Damocles kept things in check at Maria’s house, it did feel just this side of an extended girl’s night sleepover, might as well dress for it. Ellie had asked for something soft and comfy so you decided to go for it, an assortment of sweats and sweaters in the duffel at your feet.

What you’re eyeing at the moment is an empty hook on the wall by the fireplace.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket and pull out the watch.

Ellie did a beautiful job with it, took directions like a champ. Sitting together on her bed, listening to Joan Jett and Pat Benetar, you’d instructed her how to design the plaid stripes into the strap, how to knot and plait in patterns.

“Macrame. MACrame. Mac. Ra. Mayyyyyy,” Ellie’d chanted. “It’s a fun word to say. What’s it mean?”

“Fringe. Knotting. It’s just the name of the technique. I dunno. Probably something prettier in French.”

The strap clasps had been lost in the fire, so you’d had Ellie work him a new strap out of dyed and tightly-spun wool, something a little longer so he could tie it on. Most likely he’d come back here first, so you want to put it somewhere he’d see it, that way he could have it again without a lot of fuss but knowing at the same time you were thinking of him. So you slip the end loop over the hook, gently let it slip through your fingers and rest against the wall.

If he comes back…

The front door opens. Boots on the wood. The thump of a backpack.

By the time you’ve turned, he’s coming in through the front hall.

When he sees you standing here, he stops.

You never imagined this moment. You should have. It might have prepared you for the yellowing bruise on his face, the majority of his left pant leg browned with dried blood, his knuckles raw and just beginning to heal over.

You struggle with finding the right question. Find ‘em? They dead? Finish the job? No survivors?

I’d ask you what the hell you did, but I know and I don’t wanna hear you say it.

Instead all you can muster is a nod at the blood on his jeans.

His eyes slide to the staircase, already looking to move on, and he only answers with a short and shallow nod of his own before doing just that.

You find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, the duffel, the watch, back at your hands. Listening as he moves around upstairs, dropping boots, his belt buckle clapping to the floor. The shower running for a long, long time.

Sun’s going down. Getting colder.

The squeaks from the staircase are slow, softer than usual. He’s taking his time coming down. Doesn’t want to force himself back into a space so safe and quiet after pushing through one so big and mean.

He barely shifts the couch as he sits on the far side. Clean shirt. Clean jeans. A pair of socks you knit him.

“Where’s Ellie?” He sounds like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. You’d wager he hasn’t.

“With Maria. We’ve been staying there. I was just getting us some clothes. Didn’t think you’d be gone this long.”

“Neither did I. They had a head start. Younger. Faster. But you’re safe now. You’re both safe now.” He’s quiet long enough for the house to give a settling creak as the wind picks up outside. “How’s that arm?”

“Joel, you can’t keep us safe from the world. The world is what it is.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he whispers back, defiant, stubborn, with enough venom that he seems to scare himself and he breathes in deep, keeps it, holding back.

All you want is your Joel back. Even in all this mess. All you want is for him to lay down his fear and love you the right way.

So instead of arguing, you get up and stand before him, give him the time it takes to understand you’re going to straddle his lap whether he helps you or not. He reaches for you on your way down, guides and supports you, allows you to rake through his wet curls before leaning in to take possession of his lips, to will him–by kissing through to his very soul–to come back to you.

He can’t help but respond, his whole body coming to life, and in the cold, twilit living room, you become a tangle of silhouettes as his hand pushes up under your sweater–somehow still keeping an aura of care around your ruined and wrapped arm–to squeeze almost painfully at your curves, rough and wanting, panting between devouring kisses as he paws beyond the waistband of your sleep pants, sucking at your neck when you throw your head back as he reaches what he was searching for….what you hoped he’d find…

There’s a tousle of repositioning and a clatter of belt and zipper. You’re both raw and rough and needy, and you both take advantage of the emptiness of the house to fill it with the sounds of desperation, of effort, the song of casting off of all inhibition, a duet of total and grateful release.

But through it all, it’s the way he holds onto you that tells you how much he wanted to get back to you, how close he intends to hold you and never let you go, a desperation that tells you exactly where his faults lay…

…that it was necessary–and always will be–to eliminate any chance of someone taking you from his world by force.

It’s not so much possession as a fierce and burning need to be possessed. A need to belong, concentrated down to its basest form.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he softly kisses your temple, spooning you in the afterglow that burns bright in the darkening room.

“For what? You didn’t hurt me.”

“Rushed it a little. Tend to act before thinkin’ sometimes.”

You’re not completely sure what he means by that. At first you think he’s talking about the rough sex, but you get his meaning. Stalking off after Abby and Mel so impulsively. For being impulsive in general.

For acting out of trauma.

Or love.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to for that, Joel.”

You can tell the moment he understands when his forehead gently meets your shoulder. “Shit.”

It’s probably the best time to break it to him, while he’s still a little softheaded and euphoric. “She’s ready to listen. But I won’t promise it’ll be easy. It might just be you and me here for a while.”

Once his breathing evens out, he shifts, still holding onto you, but just coming back down, settling back in.

“What’s that?” He mutters, just on this side of falling asleep, lazily pointing at the watch on the hook by the fireplace.

“Your Valentine’s Day present. From both of us. Sorry it’s late.”

________

Taking some shifts off from the Meadow rotation affords you time to start slowly moving things over to the new A-frame, Maria helping you to load up a skid now and then and unload it, walking beside you as you lead the horse that tows it.

After a week or two, Ellie’s up and walking–well, limping, but healing–and starting to talk to Joel at dinner again. She’s on the verge of actually gracing his bad jokes with a smile or even a laugh, but she’s making him work hard for it. Good for her.

You haven’t asked either of them how the talk went. Don’t know if you ever will. That’s between them, the less you interfere, the better.

But you know that things are on the mend when you find Ellie playing Joel’s guitar–learning some Johnny Cash song you know he loves.

And you have a feeling that spring is on the way when you drop off another load at the new house and find a new frame on the wall–a handmade, custom carpentry display shadowbox.

With a watch hanging inside.

_______

PREVIOUS: AUTUMN

NEXT: SPRING AGAIN (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark #joel miller x mature reader

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supernovafics · 2 months

Text

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k words

warnings: explicit language, brief mention of weed, a bit of angst

summary: a power outage leaves you stuck at steve’s apartment for the night

CHAPTER SEVEN | ❝𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌❞

Winter 2015

The call connected after only a few rings. “Hey.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Eddie responded. “Did it end up snowing by you?”

“Yeah, only a couple of inches, but it’s still something.”

“Make a snowman in honor of me and send me a picture.”

You laughed a little. “It’ll be the smallest snowman in the world because there’s barely any snow on the ground, Edward.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“Fine, I’m not gonna do it now since it’s two in the morning, but I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice.

Things became comfortably quiet for a few moments and you kept the phone at your ear as you moved about your kitchen, searching for something to eat and ultimately settling for a bowl of dry cereal.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Getting a snack.”

“Cereal?”

“Of course,” You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “You know me so well.”

“I think I’ll always remember that because it's such a random thing,” He told you and you laughed at that.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting outside smoking.”

“I wish I was there right now,” You told him. “It’s so quiet here because my dad’s not really around. Plus, I really like your hometown.”

“Come here for spring break.”

You didn’t even need to think about his words before you were agreeing. “Okay.”

“Great,” He said. “And you already know about my very loud and obnoxious neighbors, so you’ll like it. It’s rarely ever quiet here.”

You smiled. “Any new stories to share?”

He told you about an argument he overheard yesterday, something about a lawn mower, and then the two of you talked about nothing for the next hour as you leaned back against your kitchen counter eating your cereal and Eddie smoked weed in his front yard. You could tell that he was already tired only half an hour into the call, it was always easy to hear the sleepiness in his voice, but he stayed on for you. You talked until you finally got tired, a yawn escaping your lips as you went upstairs to your childhood bedroom.

“Goodnight. Sorry for keeping you on the phone for so long.”

“No apology needed. I wanted to talk to you.”

You were shaking your head as you got under your covers. “You’re just way too nice to me.”

“I gotta be nice or else I’ll never get my tiny snowman,” He joked and you smiled at that. “G’night.”

“Bye.”

You two hung up then, and you became engulfed in silence and darkness; the soothing and comforting kind that made your eyelids feel heavy. But before you could fall asleep, you thought about the kiss— that quick moment played on what felt like a constant loop in your head.

At first, you had wanted to just forget about it, and a part of you wished that you simply didn’t remember it like Eddie didn’t. But, the more you thought about it over the last few days that you’d been home, the more it felt easier to convince yourself that maybe it was a good thing that it happened. Because you couldn’t help but still believe that it had to mean something.

That entire night had to mean something, actually. Eddie didn’t have his date with Chrissy; you still didn’t know the reason why she canceled it at the last second. And he kissed you at that party— even though he didn’t remember it, it still happened.

You considered finally, finally taking the plunge and just telling him how you felt when you both were back from break. Simply letting it out and letting everything else fall into the places that they were meant to fall. And somehow, the thought of finally doing it, finally admitting the truth, didn’t scare you as much as it once did.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

You tried to figure out if the silence that you and Steve were currently sitting in was comfortable or not. It felt equal parts good and bad, too much and just fine, and weird but also not really.

You shifted slightly on the couch, which you and Steve were currently sitting on opposite sides of, folding your legs under yourself. Things didn’t immediately become quiet between you two when the power went out. Instead, you followed him, using your phone as a flashlight, as he went to find the candles he had around; there were only three. He lit them and set them on the coffee table in the living room and then that was when you two settled on the couch, a quietness starting to linger.

It was late, getting close to midnight, and a part of you wanted to go to sleep, but there was no way that you’d be able to do so with how silent it was, and you didn’t think that you’d be able to bear sitting in it all night. Maybe it wasn’t too comfortable after all.

You were reminded of when you and Eddie met; the broken down elevator and random conversation that forged an immediate friendship. For obvious reasons, this moment was pretty different— you and Steve weren’t strangers, although you definitely didn’t feel that far off from it, and you knew that you’d be at Steve’s place for much longer than you’d been stuck in the elevator with Eddie.

Because of that, you were abruptly breaking the silence with the first thing that came to your mind.

“Do you remember what your last dream was about?”

Steve was clearly surprised by the randomness of your question because all he responded with was “What?” and let out a confused laugh.

“Things are way too quiet right now and that was the first question that came to my mind,” You told him with a shrug. “So, do you remember your last dream?”

“Um, kinda?” He said and then paused for a moment to think. “I’m pretty sure I was just driving. But, it was in a different country because I was driving on the other side of the road.”

There was something about the mundanity of his dream that was both boring and kind of soothing to hear about. “That’s so normal.”

“What was yours?”

You were thinking for a second before it hit you; the dream that you’d had a few nights ago that was the most recent one you remembered. “I got pushed off a cliff.”

Steve looked at you. It was too dark to read his expression, the candles weren’t doing much to light up the space, but you imagined it was one of confusion. “That sounds much more like a nightmare than a dream.”

“Yeah, abruptly waking up from that was a great way to start my Friday morning,” You responded. “I rarely remember regular dreams where I’m just doing dumb normal stuff. It’s always those falling ones that stick and they actually happen a lot. Before the cliff thing, I remember one where I was tumbling down a hill.”

“You’re talking about this so normally that I don’t know if I should feel bad or not.”

You laughed a little as you shook your head. “Definitely don’t feel bad. Just please tell me about any recurring nightmares you’ve had before.”

“I used to have this one where I’m playing basketball and then I get injured; broken ankle, broken leg, stuff like that,” He told you, which made you inwardly wince because that sounded a thousand times worse than your falling dreams. “That nightmare doesn’t happen that much anymore now, though. It used to happen a lot right when I actually got hurt playing a couple years ago.”

You nodded at that. “Oh, is that why you stopped?”

“Yeah, that injury was pretty fucked…” His eyes pulled away from yours and focused on something else. You were able to read that pretty easily; his want for the subject to change and shift away from him having to talk about his injury and probably basketball in general.

“Y’know, I’m just now realizing that we don’t really know anything about each other. Actually, I’m not just now realizing that, I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days. How this whole thing between me and you feels like when you get partnered up on a project with that one person in class that you never really talked to before,” You were pretty much rambling at this point so you decided to stop. “But, yeah, anyway, the sentiment still stands. We know nothing about each other.”

“I think saying nothing is kind of a stretch,” Steve said, eyes meeting yours again. “I know you’re an English major and you love reading, which of course makes sense. And you have a bunch of roommates; you were just gonna have one, but then that changed to three.”

It didn’t entirely surprise you to hear all of the stuff that he had remembered from the date; it had only been a little over a week ago. What did surprise you was that you couldn’t really say the same. The only things you remembered learning about him were his major and minor, which you already knew, and the fact that he didn’t like reading— you were vaguely reminded of an Italian mouse book series that he had apparently really liked in fifth grade.

“Oh my god, did I seriously only talk about myself during our date?” You said, suddenly feeling entirely too embarrassed by just how true your words were. “I didn’t think I was that much of a narcissist.”

“You’re not. I just didn’t talk about myself that much,” Steve told you with a shrug.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

He sighed. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.”

For some reason, that made you smile. “Now, I definitely wanna hear it.”

He sighed again and for a second you thought that he just wasn’t going to tell you, but then he was speaking. “I always do that on dates because it’s just the easiest way to keep things surface level and not serious.”

It surprised you that he sounded a little embarrassed to admit that.

“I don’t think that makes you an asshole,” You said, and you were actually being honest. You really didn’t think that him basically putting up walls was an inherently shitty thing to do, but it did sound the tiniest bit sad. You didn’t want to say that, though. “Are you tired right now?” Another conversation shift, solely for the reason that you wanted to keep things simple and easy. This was only the second real and non-fake dating conversation you two were having and you didn’t want it to lead to you two bearing your souls to each other in the dark. It felt way too soon for those kinds of conversations, and you didn’t know if you’d even get to that place with him before the month was over and you two “broke up” and went your separate ways.

“No,” He answered with a quick shake of his head, which you were glad for because you were nowhere near being tired either. “Are you?”

“Not even close,” You responded. “Do you have any games we can play or something?”

“I have a deck of cards.”

“That works.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You two didn’t end up playing any actual card games. Steve attempted to teach you poker, but after only a few rounds you hated it, and there were no other games that either of you could think of with simple enough rules that you could teach him or he could teach you. Therefore, you two instead started playing with the cards themselves, attempting to build little card houses and other things, which was Steve’s suggestion.

It had been quiet for the past few minutes, but surprisingly comfortably so. You could feel yourself becoming the tiniest bit tired, but at the same time not at all.

“Do you like living alone?” You asked as you attempted to stand two cards up to make a sort of triangle shape and balance on each other, which actually wasn’t that easy.

“Yeah, definitely,” Steve nodded. You two were sitting on opposite sides of his coffee table and the candles had been moved to the floor— which probably should’ve felt more like a bad idea— to make room on the table. “The roommate I had Freshman year was horrible.”

You laughed at that. “I also had a shitty roommate experience Freshman year, but I still love having roommates…” You trailed off as you tried to think of the perfect way to fully sum up your thoughts toward your current roommate situation. “It feels like summer camp, but without the poison ivy and multiple cases of mono.”

Steve gave you an amused look. “What kinds of insane summer camps did you used to go to?”

“Really bad ones,” You told him. “And I hated it every year, but my parents were obsessed with sending me to them— especially after they got divorced— because they worked a lot and didn’t want me to be alone all the time.”

“Okay, now it makes sense why you like having roommates.”

You nodded. “Only child and divorced parents. Terrible combo. I hate when things are too quiet.”

You pulled your eyes away from the cards that you finally managed to make stand on their own to look at what Steve was doing. He was much farther along than you were at building something that actually looked interesting.

“You’re weirdly good at this,” You said when your cards fell again and instead of immediately trying to stand them back up, you watched as Steve kept building some sort of pyramid.

He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I used to always do this when I was bored as a kid.”

“That’s actually quite wholesome,” You told him as you picked up your two cards. A beat of silence lingered for a moment before you were speaking. “So, did you ever go to camp or were your summers spent playing with cards like a bored child in the fifties?”

The laugh Steve let out at your joke made you smile. “I only went to camp twice; when I was twelve and then thirteen. It felt a lot like the kind of summer camp that you’d see in any movie. Lots of lake stuff and campfires and that type of thing. The first year kinda sucked, but the second year was fun. I even had a camp girlfriend.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, you actually had a girlfriend?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, it was the greatest three-week-long relationship ever.”

What happened?

That was what you wanted to ask— not what happened to the camp girlfriend because you obviously knew how those relationships went. But what happened to him wanting crushes and relationships and actual feelings?

You didn’t ask that, though. You felt like you couldn’t; the question felt too deep, too real. And you also thought that it would be kind of pointless to ask it.

“Do you think it’s working?” Steve asked, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

“This fake dating thing. Do you think it’s working for you?”

“Oh, yeah, sometimes I think it actually is. Like, after game night, Eddie stayed over at the apartment and we watched TV for a few hours and then he randomly asked if I really liked you. I told him yes— obviously— and he said “Cool,” but there was this certain look on his face too. I couldn’t tell what exactly it was, but it felt like something,” You said, thinking back to that Monday night. “But, then, I also think it’s not really working because nothing like that has happened since.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s true. The party a few days ago didn’t feel like nothing.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, it looked pretty clear that he didn’t want you to stay with me,” He told you and you weren’t entirely sure how true that was, the end of the night was a little bit of a blur, but you did believe Steve. “Have you ever thought that something was going to happen between you and him before? Like, moments that made it feel obvious or whatever?”

Your mind traveled to the drunken kiss at the frat party Freshman year. A fleeting kiss that felt like a distant memory at this point, and the tiniest bit like a dream. What also felt like a dream, or more so a nightmare, was the day that you came back from Winter break, weeks after the kiss. You had finally worked up the courage to tell Eddie how you felt and you were knocking on his door to do it before you could convince yourself not to. He opened the door after only a second and there he was with Chrissy.

You didn’t immediately know it was her; at first, she was simply just a random girl wearing his t-shirt. What happened over those next few minutes was Eddie explaining to you that they met up during the last few days of break and the rest was history. They seemed happier than ever and you knew for certain that your chance was gone.

You hated thinking about that moment. You remembered feeling stupidly hopeful, like everything was going to finally fall into place for you and him, and then feeling severely disappointed, but having to hide that with a happy smile. From there you pushed everything to the side— went back to pretending that you felt nothing romantic for your best friend and simply avoided thinking about it altogether. Until they broke up and now here you were back to pining.

It felt way too embarrassing to admit all of that to Steve right then.

“Um, I don’t know…” You finally said, trailing off and shrugging. “Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate the moments that are solely friendly with the moments that could maybe mean something more.”

If Steve could tell that you were lying and avoiding saying a lot more, he didn’t call you out on it; which you were glad for. Instead, he simply nodded at your words.

You pushed up the sleeves of your sweater. “These candles are making it really warm in here.”

“I can give you something to wear if you want, so you’re not in jeans and a sweater all night.”

You hesitated just for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

You followed him to his room and stood by the door as he went to grab something for you. When he handed the clothes over, you saw that it was a t-shirt and basketball shorts. You went to the bathroom to change, keeping the door cracked so that it wasn’t entirely pitch black.

You put on the shorts first and then slipped the shirt over your head. It smelled just like Steve, which shouldn’t have been surprising at all since these were his clothes, but you still were a little startled. Maybe it felt more surprising to you that you were able to easily recognize his smell; that you could get hit with the scent of something that was somehow equal parts musky and sweet and immediately place it as Steve.

It felt weird and almost too much, and a part of you wanted to take off his shirt, but you knew that it probably would’ve been weirder and more of a big deal if you did. So, you didn’t take it off and instead decided to actively not think about why it had felt weird to you at all.

When you returned to the living room, you sat on Steve’s side of the table because you wanted to lean back against the couch. The pyramid he had been building was gone and instead, he just had a few cards in his hand. You noticed him yawn, which made you realize that you still weren’t really tired, and you also wondered what time it was. You grabbed your phone off the table to check the time; 1:17a.m.

“Are you tired now?” You asked Steve as you placed your phone back down. You knew what answer you were expecting to get from him, but you still wanted to ask the question anyway.

“Not really, no,” He answered, and you, of course, didn’t believe him.

“You can go to sleep if you want,” You said, glancing at him. “I’ll be fine out here.”

You probably would end up staying up all night if he did leave you right then, but you didn't want to force him to stay awake with you if he was tired.

“It’s okay,” He said. “Let’s just keep talking.”

You still weren’t completely convinced, but you nodded at his words anyway.

“This is random, but sometimes Talia bakes in the middle of the night whenever she’s stressed and can’t sleep,” You told him and then let out a small laugh. “And she’s a very noisy baker. I was woken up many, many times to the sound of a mixer last semester.”

Steve turned his head to look at you. “Isn’t that annoying?”

“A little bit, yeah. But she thankfully got one of those stand mixers that are pretty quiet last month, so now it’s not that bad,” You said, and you briefly thought back to a few weeks ago when she made blueberry muffins on a random Tuesday night. “Also, we wake up to freshly baked muffins in the morning so that makes it okay too.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe the muffins make it worth it.”

“Very much so.”

You poked at a few of the cards on the table, flipping them over and then flipping them back just so you could have something to do with your hands.

“Tell me about your Freshman year roommate,” Steve said. You’d forgotten that that had been briefly brought up in the conversation earlier. “Any shitty stories to share?”

“Oh, a lot. I’m pretty sure she hated me. She never blatantly said that, but it just felt obvious. Anyway, though, she always brought people over and never told me about it. I lost count of how many times I walked in on her and some guy mid-makeout,” You quickly explained. “That was actually how me and Eddie got really close. He lived across the hall from me, and his roommate was barely ever around, so I would always go over to his dorm when my roommate was being annoying.”

“Okay, she sounds a thousand times worse than how mine was. He would mainly just leave trash everywhere and play music really loud.”

“That sounds like heaven compared to the shit I had to deal with.”

“It was still enough to make me never want a roommate again,” Steve responded, putting the cards in his hand down on the table and leaning back against the couch. “I don’t mind the quietness that comes with no one else being here.”

“Okay, this question is very random and probably dumb, but why did you say yes to the blind date thing when Eddie asked you?” You weren’t entirely sure why you asked that, but you were curious, and also finally starting to get a little tired so your mind was moving to even more random places. The kinds of places that it wouldn’t have gone to if your lack of sleep from the night before wasn’t beginning to catch up with you.

“He made you sound really cool and nice and—”

You stopped Steve mid-sentence. “Okay, wait, never mind, pretend I didn’t ask. It feels weird hearing that, actually.”

“Honestly, I think he probably does feel the same as you. The way he talked about you that day felt different than just how a friend talks about another friend, now that I'm really thinking about it.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that.

It was hard to tell the difference between having false hope and having expectations that were actually realistic enough to be fulfilled. You didn’t know where this Eddie thing lay. It felt so in the middle, perfectly toeing the line.

You leaned back against the couch and that was when you noticed how close you and Steve were sitting. Your sides just barely touched, the short sleeves of your respective shirts lightly brushing, but you didn’t feel the need to move over.

“So, if this fake dating thing ends up working for you, and you’re not forced to go to the Hamptons to find your future wife, do you know what you’re gonna do for the summer?”

You figured that, at the end of the day, if what you two were doing didn’t end up working out on your side of things, at least Steve would hopefully get something good out of it.

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe go to Europe for a bit with a few friends.”

“That’s very rich kid of you to say,” You joked.

Steve laughed a little. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “But, I do know that it probably won’t include backpacking around Europe.”

The conversation continued moving in different directions from there, but it slowly started to fade out. With both of you saying things that probably didn’t make too much sense and probably wouldn’t even be remembered in the morning because you were falling asleep as you were talking and the lines between what was real and what felt like a dream became blurred. At some point, you were closing your eyes and leaning your head against Steve’s shoulder because you were too tired to think better of it.

The night had felt entirely unexpected, but you were glad that it happened. You were happy about the stupid storm and stupid power outage.

Finally, you felt like you actually knew him— not just the stuff that mattered for fake dating. He was your friend now and you were his. Neither of you would end up saying that in the morning or anytime soon, but it felt pretty obvious.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington angst #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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allywthsr · 9 months

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EARLY CHRISTMAS | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando celebrate an early Christmas with Carlos and Rebecca

wordcount: 1.5k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: Rebecca is Carlos‘ girlfriend

notes: what are we thinking? I hope you are okay with me using Rebecca?

advent calendar

”When are they coming, baby?“

”Carlos sent me a message, that they landed about an hour ago, with collecting their luggage and getting a taxi, they should be here any minute, my love.“

You were currently waiting for Carlos and his girlfriend Rebecca to arrive at your Monaco home. Lando and you invited the two for your annual early Christmas, which you always held with Carlos, last year it was still with Isa, but this year it was Rebecca. You‘ve met her before, and you two got along, but today you wanted to get to know her better, you wanted Rebecca to have someone she could come to during a race and whenever she needed someone.

Lando came into the kitchen, where you were checking, again, if all the foods were ready to eat, ”I know you love Isa, but please give Rebecca a chance, she‘s the new girlfriend of Carlos and we gotta accept it“, he closed his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in for a hug, with a peck to your forehead he tried to comfort you.

He knew how heavy your heart was today, for the five years you two had been together, the four of you always celebrated Christmas early, with a feast, and sitting under the tree to open presents. Each year it was held at someone else’s house, five years ago, Lando and you started and celebrated in Woking, where Lando had his house at that time, the year after that it was held in Spain, where Carlos had his own house, and the rest of the years continued like that. This year it was Lando’s and your turn, and you hosted it in your Monaco home.

You already called Isa today, not to rub it in her face or anything, you wouldn’t even have mentioned that it happened, if she hadn’t started talking about it herself.

She knew you always held it around this time, and she also knew how you felt, she felt the same way. Isa might not be in a relationship with Carlos anymore, but she cared about you and Lando, she missed you as equally as you missed her. When you joined Lando at his first GP, she was the one who started talking to you and introduced you to the wag world. Ever since you tried to meet up with her regularly, which, thanks to Formula One, happened often. Now it was less often, you tried to talk over the phone every week, but with work and other stuff, you two rarely found the time.

She asked you about the food you served and what kind of presents you got everyone, she even told you that Carlos would love the gift you got him. It was a self-designed golf bag, with chili’s and the Spanish flag all over it, it may be a simple thing, but you knew he would love it.

For Rebecca, you got a gift set from your favorite skincare brand, a pair of fuzzy socks, some tea, and a mug for the tea. You didn’t know what she would like, so you got her some obvious things almost every girl likes. You got a simple bracelet for Lando, it was a leather band and had your and his initials engraved in it. It wasn’t his actual Christmas present, that was wrapped and waited for actual Christmas to come.

Lando got Carlos a fan collection of the game of Thrones series, the DVDs in a special edition case, mostly just for decoration purposes instead for the DVDs, but it was the special steal edition and Carlos would love it. For Rebecca, he got her a bathing set, might be boring but you two didn’t know her enough to get her something more for her.

The four presents were safely wrapped in wrapping paper under the tree, Lando’s were a bit more wonky and uneven, but you insisted he wrapped it himself, it was more special that way.

With one last kiss to Lando’s lips, you freed yourself from his grip and went into the living room, where you switched on the lights on the tree and lit the candles on the table.

You sighed at the idea of hosting someone else than Isa, but before you could spend another thought to that, the doorbell rang and Lando and you went to open the door.

Carlos was wearing a hoodie and some denim, while Rebecca was wearing a red sparkly dress and held a bouquet in her hands.

”Hey you guys, come inside“, you ushered them inside and before you could say another thing, Rebecca gave you the flowers with a: ”these are for you“, and hugged you shortly. You returned the hug and kissed her cheeks, and you gave Carlos a big hug, you hadn’t seen him since the last race. Lando gave Carlos a big hug as well and gave Rebecca a friendly squeeze. You two didn’t know her enough to greet her like an old friend.

The two put their presents under the tree and settled at the table after a trip to the bathroom to wash their hands. Lando filled everyone’s glasses with their drink wishes and sat down next to you, touching your thigh to try and calm you down, without Isa, it wasn’t the same.

”So, what have you done so far during the break?“, you looked at Carlos and Rebecca and waited for someone to answer.

”Just chill and enjoy the peace.“

Carlos nodded with Rebecca's words and you smiled at her. The uncomfortable silence was loud and you let out a sigh.

”Who’s ready for the starter?“

You and Lando got up and went into the kitchen, you were about to grab the pot of sweet potato soup and pour it into the plates, but Lando grabbed your waist before you could and pulled you to his chest.

”Please baby, relax. It’s going to be fine, the beginning is awkward, but I’m sure it's fine after the starters.“

You nodded and grabbed the ladle, filling the plate with the soup. Lando and you brought the plates back to the table, you sat down and wished everyone to enjoy their meal.

During the starters, things did get more comfortable, everyone started talking and laughing. You got to know Rebecca more, and saw another side of her than the media. She asked questions back and genuinely seemed interested.

”And now you work for quadrant?“

”Yes, I keep track of every video, and also some merch inquirers come my way.“

”That’s interesting!“

”It is, and you are a model?“

”Yep, I think it’s fun, you always look pretty and I like having my picture taken.“

You nodded while scooping the last bit of your dessert in your mouth.

Lando also relaxed after he saw you and Rebecca talking so openly, the girls cleaned the table while the boys settled already on the couch, to open the present in a second. You placed the plates on the counter, to put them into the dishwasher once you had the time, but you joined your boyfriend and Carlos on the couch, the boys already excited to see what they got.

Everyone grabbed one present and you opened yours first, it was from Rebecca. Underneath the wrapping paper hid a luxurious phone case, it was your favorite luxurious brand and fitted your phone perfectly. You quickly hugged her and thanked her multiple times, Lando opened his present next. It was yours, he opened the lid from the box and his eyes lit up, ”Thank you, baby! I love it.“

He held it to you and his wrist as well, indicating that he wanted you to put it on, you quickly closed the band and stroked over the back of his hand. Lando kissed your cheek and looked at Carlos, waiting for him to open Lando’s present.

When he ripped the paper from the metal box, he let out a gasp, ”Cabrón! I love it, thank you“, he boxed against Lando’s arm and smiled down at the collection.

Rebecca opened hers last, it was yours, she loved the tea and the mug, but especially the skincare set you got her, she said she needed new skincare stuff and always wanted to try this brand.

Presents were opened until only the wrapping paper lay under the tree, everyone liked their gifts and you could relax. Carlos couldn’t wait to go golfing with Lando and his new golf bag tomorrow. Rebecca was a sweetheart and you could see yourself spending more time with her while the boys were playing golf and in the paddock, introducing her to the others like Isa had done with you.

You were already excited for next year.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #christmas #carlos sainz

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allwaswell16 · 8 months

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A fic rec of One Direction fics where Louis is a villain of some sort as requested in an ask I can no longer find oof Hope you see this rec whoever asked for it! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

💀 Wanted Most by BornOnABeach

(E, 156k, thief Louis) Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

💀 Cover Me with Jewels by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove

(E, 55k, thief Louis) the one where Louis is a jewel thief and dating Harry Styles, the heir to a designer jewellery business empire, but Louis worries Harry will discover him, so he disappears for five years.

💀 Tied Down by HamPalpert

(E, 48k, drug dealer Louis) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson.

💀 I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) by @theboyfriendstagram

(E, 42k, assassin Louis) AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister.

💀 Please, Deceive Me by Larringiscaring

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis robs casino's with his ex-boyfriend, and Harry trusts a criminal a little more than he should

💀 no pressure, no diamonds by @karamelised

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

💀 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 40k, thief Louis) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

💀 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.

💀 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.

💀 focal point by rainbowsandgucci

(M, 8k, thief Louis) By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand. Don’t forget about me. xx P.S. Thanks for the money

💀 Daisy by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve

(E, 3k, mob au) An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.

💀 Stealing My Trust by Phillipa19

(E, 3k, organized crime) Harry hates the danger Louis' 'job' puts him in, but no one ever said being in love with a criminal would be easy.

💀 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle

(T, 3k, thief Louis) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.

💀 How to Catch a Christmas Tree by Anonymous

(E, 2k, omegaverse) It's two days until Christmas and Harry needs a Christmas tree.

💀 Marionette by Anonymous

(E, 2k, witch Louis) Harry is a vampire on the hunt. He doesn’t know that he’s not the top of the food chain.

💀 The shape I've made you into by flamboyo / @riverswater

(M, 1k, established relationship) "Sometimes, I wish you'd hit me."

💀 Twenty-Eight by @beardyboyzx

(M, 1k, spy au) Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.

- Rare Pairs -

💀 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer

(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.

#ficrec #villain louis #1dficvillage #hltracks #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #1dsource

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years

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santa baby // charles leclerc

summary: it's christmas morning, his mother has the kids, and it's been too long since he and his wife got to enjoy a little bit of quality time, if you get what he's saying

pairing: charles leclerc x wife! reader

warnings: festive smut <3, a few jokes about how y/n's dad really didn't like charles in the beginning, mentions of heaven in a pretty unholy context. charles wants another child which turns into mild breeding

authors note: the christmas collection is almost complete!! this is the last christmas based story, and to close out the series I have one that takes place in new york on new years!

the monaco morning was chilly, a light dusting of snow descending on monte carlo as charles leclerc and his wife lay tangled in bed, christmas tree still twinkling and full of light in the penthouse apartment's main room. they always slept like this, with charles' body draped over hers, his arms tightly clutching her around the midsection, legs tangled together.

they'd married young, just nineteen when they eloped in italy because charles was scared that y/n's father was going to kill him. but her father was a traditional man, who thought that his daughter was destined for more than charles, who came across as a playboy f2 driver at the time.

but they had known each other for years, high school sweethearts, if you will. they got married right before charles started his first season with sauber, and the monegasque boy had promised that he would always support and look after y/n. of course, the shit hit the fan once their respective families realized that they had eloped, but it would take a blind man not to see how madly in love the two young adults had been at the time.

had been, and still were.

“mhm, charles…” she whined, feeling the tip of her husbands warm nose at the back of her neck. she lifted the ferrari drivers hand from around her waist, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “good morning, mon amour.” she said softly, pressing back into the monegasque.

“merry christmas cherie.” charles smiled against her skin, eyes still closed as he pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck.

“I wonder if jolie is awake yet. I forgot how nice it was to wake up in a quiet house.”

the couple had always kept their private life just that: private. their rings weren’t flashy, simple bands that didn’t catch too much attention. and a few months after charles had signed to ferrari, y/n had told him that she was pregnant, something they had tried to hide to the best of their ability.

he had been shocked at first, but the glow in his eyes and grin on his face hadn’t ever gone away. they’d kept the pregnancy a secret as long as possible, but sebastian vettel had eventually figured it out, the same way that the german had figured out that the young lovers were married.

jolie helene leclerc was the apple of charles’ eye. from the moment that jolie was born, the infant had charles wrapped around her pudgy little fingers.

“jolie is fine, mon tresor. she’s with my mom and arthur.”

she laughed, sitting up in bed before looking down at her husband, tapping him gently on the nose. “arthur is why I’m worried. he might be twenty one but he’s still a child. just let me call your mom.” she insisted, getting out of the king sized bed and walking across the room to get her phone, the hemline of her green silk nightdress barely covering her ass.

“babe…” charles whined. “she’s fine, come on. when was the last time that we had the apartment to ourselves?”

charles had a point. the night before, the couple had opened a bottle of red wine and binged the new season of ‘only murders in the building’ before y/n had fallen asleep in the couch, curled up against her husbands side before charles had carried her her back to the bed.

she paused, turning back to her husband. charles rarely ever wore pajamas to bed, but for the holiday season he had humoured his wife with a silk set, the top unbuttoned halfway to show off his impressive muscles, the outline of his dick visible through the silk pants.

it was a sight that used to make her mouth water. not that she didn’t find her husband attractive anymore, it was just that she had other priorities. like raising jolie.

“I suppose you’re right.” her voice was sing-songy as she leaned against the dresser, one of the nightgown straps falling down her shoulder. “what do you suggest we do about it?”

charles grinned, hair messy and cheeks flushed as he got out of bed, meeting his wife in the middle of the room as he pulled her in for a kiss, his hands warm against her skin in the chilled room.

“I can think of a few ideas, ma cherie.” he grinned, slipping his hands up the back of her nightdress. “you’re beautiful.” he hummed, pressing kisses to her neck as she flushed pink under the half light, a smile on her face as she giggled.

charles never failed to sweep her off her feet.

she laughed as charles gripped her ass for support as she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist before he stumbled back towards the bed. they fell to the sheets in a tangle of limbs and giggles, her husband hovering over her as he peppered her exposed skin with kisses, palming her erect nipples through the silk.

“oh, charles.” she moaned lowly as charles drew back, reaching to undo the last few buttons on his silk shirt.

y/n wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning in close and pressing a few gentle kisses to her husbands chest, his rapidly hardening cock becoming increasingly more prominent through his trousers.

she could feel his muscles tensing and undulating underneath her lips as he breathed deeply, a sensation that only added to the want pooling between her legs.

charles sucked in a breath at the feeling of his wife’s lips against his abs. he would never get tired of calling y/n his beautiful wife. he could hardly contain himself, stomach rapidly rising and falling as she continued to kiss him, her fingertips dancing across his skin as she looked up at him, a bright smile on her face and lust in her eyes.

he knew she would never suck him off. it was a sensory thing, she hated the feeling of having any dick in her mouth, not just charles’. but charles was more than okay with that, as he would much rather be on his knees for her than have her on her knees for him.

charles slipped out of the undone shirt, gently pushing her back onto the bed and climbing on top of her, connecting his lips to hers in a fiery kiss as she slipped her hand down the front of his pants, cupping his erection in her delicate hand.

"mon amour," he rasped. "don't feel like you have to. this morning is all about you."

"but what if i want to?" her words came out in a whisper, eyes like oceans staring back at charles.

"you know that i won't stop you, mon amour." his breathing was heavy as y/n used both hands to push charles onto the bed, reversing their earlier position so that she straddled the ferrari driver.

she slid the silk pants down her husband's legs just enough so that she had access to his cock, running her fingers up and down the length.

she might not give blowjobs, but in charles' eyes, his wife did something even better with her hands, lips on his neck as she stroked his length, drawing a deep moan that bordered on a growl from teh back of charles' throat.

"baby..." he whined, his wife's hand warm and comforting as she pumped his dick in her hand, leaning over his body to press feather light kisses to his skin as charles gripped her thigh. "you're too good to me."

"i mean, you were on the nice list this year." she grinned, smiling against charles' chest as she pressed a kiss to his skin, quickening the pace at which she moved her hand up and down his shaft.

"not for much longer, ma cherie. not for too much longer at all." he cursed in french, bucking his hips into her hand as his eyes rolled back. "i wont last much longer like this, darling. I need to be inside you.”

“how do you want me?” she asked innocently, withdrawing the hand she had on charles’ cock and leaning down to kiss him softly, his hands cupping her ass.

“on your stomach, cherie. let me see your curves.”

every nerve ending in her body was on high alert as she laid on the plush mattress, resting the side of her face against the pillow as she moved all of her hair to one side , tingling with the sensation of anticipation, just waiting for charles to caress every inch of her body.

she could hear her husband fumbling with his pants in the background, giggling as she felt him run his hand up her leg. he slowly pushed her nightgown up, pressing kisses to her bare ass and up her lower spine, taking the silk fabric with him as he relished in how after all these years, he could still make y/n leclerc tremble underneath his touch.

“charles, don’t tease, baby.” she murmured, giving in fully to his touch as she bucked her ass back unit her husbands body. “you gave up the right to do that when we had a child.”

charles laughed, running his fingers along her slit as he readied himself behind her. “I’m here baby, don’t move a muscle and let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

he slid in slowly, y/n moaning softly underneath him as she fisted the flannel sheets. “oh, sweet jesus.” she muttered as charles began to slowly thrust into her, his cock reaching all the places that made her shiver.

“you feel like heaven, mon amour.” charles growled. “god, I love you so fucking much.”

“oh, charles!” her moan was so high pitched that it bordered in a whimper. “faster, please, charles.”

charles grinned to himself, picking up the pace as he leaned down to pepper her spine in delicate kisses, loving the way that her back arched under his touch, the curve of her spine as she pressed her hips back, trying to take as much of his cock as she could.

it was like heaven on earth.

“my sweet girl.” the monegasque hummed, the room filled with the sounds of skin on skin, and the moans of the angel underneath him, the sight of his cock sliding in and out of his wife enough to make his eyes roll back in his skull. “oh, you take my cock so well. almost like we were made for each other.”

“you’ve been using that line for five years, amour.” she giggled, a smile on her face before her lips parted in a moan, her arm reaching back so she could clasp her husbands hand in hers.

he grinned slyly “and it still works, doesn’t it? I managed to get a baby out of you.”

“yes, yes.” she moaned, clutching Charles’ hand tightly as she buried her face in the pillow, goose-down swallowing her moans.

charles paused, pressing his chest against her back, gently kissing her cheek as she brushed a few stray strands of sweaty hair away from her face. “y/n, jolie is three years old already. I think it’s time that we maybe…had another one?”

she smiled, turning her head so she could look at her husband. “and you’re asking me now?”

charles chuckled. “can I put another baby in you, mon amour? I want a family with you, a little sibling for jolie.”

as awkward as it was given their position, y/n kissed charles softly. “put another baby in me, lover boy.”

if anything, the sex got more intense after Charles’ confession, his hips and his dick moving at a relentless pace as he slammed in and out of her. and y/n loved every second of it, fingers digging into the sheets as her moans reached a crescendo.

“should I fill you up, darling? yeah, you want me to put another baby in you?” charles grunted, feeling his climax hurtle closer as her walls began to clench around him.

“god, yes charles! give me your cum, put a baby in me!”

they let go around the same time, reducing charles to a groaning, moaning mess as he released his grip on his wife’s hips, rolling their bodies gently over onto their sides so that they were spooning, out of breath and satisfied, charles’ cock still buried inside of her.

“I meant what I said, charles.” she said softly, plying with her husbands fingers. “I want another child. three sounds like a good number, doesn’t it?”

the driver smiled, kissing her cheek. “two little girls and a boy. our own little karting team.”

“in your dreams.” y/n snorted “jolie hasn’t even looked at the go kart in the garage.”

“all in good time, mon amour. all in good time. merry christmas, y/n”

“merry christmas, charles. now, we should get in the shower and get ready otherwise we aren’t making it to your mothers for brunch.”

Tags:

@magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc @libraryofloveletters @flannel-cures @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #the christmas collection 2022 #Spotify

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yagirlwrites · 1 month

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(Not) My Baby (5)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is having girls night with her roomates when an odd call comes in. Rafe and Y/N meet up to discuss the wedding plans. Drama ensues.

A/N: Hiii! It's been a while, I know! Yet again, I apologize for the long wait. Hopefully this longer chapter makes up a little for how late it is 😅 I hope you all enjoy it! This one is funny and silly, with lots of girly dynamics, but also Rafe and the drama that always comes when they're together 🤭 There might be some sexual tension in this one but our girl loves to stay delulu 🤷🏻‍♀️

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments & feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading! 🥰

(Not) My Baby (Part 5)

She was putting the finishing touches on dinner when her phone buzzed on the counter with an incoming message. The salmon and veggies were still sizzling in the pan, the aroma of a freshly cooked meal making her insides flutter with both hunger and gratitude.

After the past several days, she was glad to finally be back to normal. At least, as normal as it gets under these strange circumstances she found herself in; because of a selfish, conniving, bit- No! No thinking about him tonight. Tonight is for the girlies.

Y/N, Stella and Lena all found themselves having a family dinner after quite a while. Deciding to put each other first and spend a peaceful evening together - complete with a cheesy horror movie and delicious food. Tonight was going to be fun and she wasn't going to let thoughts of him ruin that for even a moment.

A moan could be heard from the direction of the couch where Stella was impatiently waiting for food to be ready. She had been going on about how 'hangry' she had been all day and how much she missed Y/N's cooking. Even though Stella was a decent cook, and Lena could technically fry an egg, it was a known fact in their household that Y/N made "food for the soul". That's exactly what all three of them needed, all of them buzzing with excitement. Even Lena had turned her phone on silent and vowed not to text Kelce the whole evening, wanting to focus on her best friends she felt she had been neglecting.

"Hurry up, please!" Stella's whining made Lena roll her eyes and smack her shoulder causing the girl to pout in mock hurt. "I am an injured woman!"

Y/N laughed as she walked into the living room holding onto the food tray, thinking about how much she missed when all three of them were together like this.

"You'll live." Lena replied without missing a beat, plopping herself down on the chair next to the couch, while the chef presented them with their dinner. Stella's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and even Lena couldn't stop a smile from breaking through.

"Oh this smells so fucking good, Peach! Come to mama!" She practically jumped to fill up her plate, completely ignoring the other two who smirked at each other, knowing how she gets when she's hungry.

Lena had chosen a movie for them to watch while they eat and decompress. It was some old horror with bad practical effects, demons and gore - perfect for the occasion. They spent the first 20 minutes of the film just enjoying their food in peace while trying to catch up to the plot. Even though the movie was silly it was still spooky and they loved that. Once the food was finished, Stella cleared their plates and brought back ice cream for them to share. The movie was getting real weird and scary when buzzing broke through the intense atmosphere they were in. Stella gasped, dramatically; Lena spared a glance in the direction of the glowing phone and shot Y/N a glare for the interruption. She realized someone was calling her.

"Who the fuck calls?" She mumbled, begrudgingly getting up from her comfy position on the couch to grab the phone and end the annoying buzzing. There are only three people who ever called her, albeit rarely, and two of them were in the room with her. The third one being her mother and she never called this late.

Looking at the screen, her eyes widened and a panicked "what the fuck" left her mouth. The girls both looked her way in confusion, seeing her staring at her phone.

"What?" Stella whispered, as if talking any louder would disturb the fictional characters on the screen.

"Guys..." Y/N slowly turned her phone to face the girls and they both gasped in unison.

"What the fuck?!" Lena jumped from her chair and took her phone from her hands as if it were a trick of the eye and the words on the screen would change once in her posession. But the caller ID hadn't changed...it still clearly said "Devil's Spawn".

The movie forgotten, the silence was now filled with only the incessant buzzing. Whoever it was was not letting the call drop.

"Answer it." Lena spoke causing Stella to jump from the couch.

"Are you insane! No, do not answer that! That is horror movie 101 right there!"

"This isn't a horror movie, this is real life , Stel." Lena responded, exasperatedly. Y/N gulped, Lena's words ringing true.

"...Hello?" Her voice still nearly trembled with trepidation, but she managed to keep it steady. If this was some psycho demon she was not showing any weakness.

"Finally!" A breath of relief left her, and she closed her eyes trying to calm her racing heart.

"Why the fuck are you calling me?" Her voice now taking on a note of clear annoyance, hinting to the girls who might be on the other end of the line.

"Well, hello to you too, Y/N/N." She could just feel Rafe's eyes rolling through the phone. She was not amused.

"Why are you calling, boomer?" He scoffed out a laugh at that one.

"Well if you answered your texts I wouldn't have to call like some boomer, would I?" She rolled her eyes this time, looking down at her phone to see she had several unread text notifications.

"What's so urgent it couldn't wait until morning, then?" She wanted this conversation to be over and for him to stop constantly ruining her fun.

"I need your measurements." "What?" She was dumbfounded at his random request.

"For the dress? My stepmom's been on my ass about getting her your measurements for weeks so if you could-"

"Oh, you mean while I have been blissfully unaware of your schemes? Good times." She sighed wistfully and he had to take a deep breath to calm down.

"Yes. Could you just send me your measurements so I can give them to her, please?" He sounded mildly desparate and quite irritated and she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy that.

"Hmmm... fine. But only so I can end this conversation sooner." He sighed on the other line.

"Great, whatever." She scoffed at his attitude.

"You're such a brat." She couldn't see it but his eyebrows rose at her remark, a disbelieving smile on his face.

"A brat? That's a new one." She rolled her eyes once again at his attempt to keep the conversation going after she made it clear she wanted it to end.

"Yep, that's you. Bye, now! Don't call me again." She hung up the phone before he had the chance to respond and she smiled in satisfaction at her small victory. Lena and Stella were both staring at her, the former unimpressed and the latter barely holding in a laugh.

"What?" Y/N shrugged in confusion.

"Devil's Spawn?" Lena posed the question and Stella finally burst into laughter.

"Okay, yeah. So I might have saved his number under that name... And then forgot I did it." Y/N gave them both a sheepish smile, hoping they let it go and that they could forget the past 5 minutes ever happened.

"And in my defence, you were also freaked out for a minute!" Lena scoffed, faux offended, while Stella nodded somberly.

"It was the movie. It made us paranoid." Stella whispered again and the other two girls agreed.

"Sooo... Keep watching?" "Fuck yes!" "Lets do it." The trio agreed and made themselves comfortable in their assigned seats again, resuming the film. Y/N couldn't help but check her phone to see the texts he had sent her before that awkward phonecall.

Devil's Spawn: hey sry 2 bother u at girls night but could u send me ur measurements?

Devil's Spawn: my stepmom needs them

Devil's Spawn: for ur dress n stuff

Devil's Spawn: btw she made reservations at the Modiste 4 Tuesday so u can try some stuff out

Devil's Spawn: pls lmk the measurements asap

She read through his texts with a raised brow. How did he know they were having girls night? Kelce must have told him, she guessed. The Modiste? What was this, Bridgerton? A scoff escaped her, met by shushing from Stella by her side. Her friends were once again deeply engulfed in the film playing on their TV screen. Y/N, however, was distracted.

She couldn't stop thinking over everything that had happened recently. Thinking about Rafe, or the 'Devil's Spawn' as she had aptly named him. She had forgotten all about the little nickname she dubbed him with in her phone, right until she picked up and heard his voice. Then it came back to her - the group chat Lena had created to keep them all in the loop over a trip they had planned, her tipsy and giggling to herself while she saved his contact at how funny and clever she was. Truth is she never expected to use it, she just wanted to spite him, even if it was petty and just for her own amusement. But that was so long ago now, and the little rebellion completely escaped her memory. Which is why she had given into the horror induced paranoia tonight. It was funny though, even funnier since it was all three of them who fell for the spooky caller. She looked over at her friends, smiling. She had missed this so much. She finally let herself sink back into the couch and tried watching the rest of the movie but she soon dozed off from exhaustion.

The next day she woke up groggy and confused. She realized she was still on the couch, but this time alone and covered by a blanket. The girls took care to make her comfy before going to their respective beds. She took a deep breath, looking at the time on her phone seeing it was just past 7, wondering if she should just move to her bedroom and go back to sleep when a text came through.

Devil's Spawn: can u send me those measurements??

She rolled her eyes at his insistence and lack of patience. It's not like she had the numbers lying around. She needed to measure herself first. That would prove a challenge since she didn't have a tape measure. She pondered on whether Stella might have one when Lena made her way into the living area.

"Oh, you're up?" Lena had been an early bird for as long as she knew her. Stella was the opposite, she could sleep forever. Y/N was somewhere in between, not quite a morning person like Lena, but definitely not comfortable staying in bed until the afternoon.

"Yeah. Morning." Y/N rubbed her tired eyes giving her friend a sleepy smile.

"Good morning." Lena smirked and went to the kitchen to start on her coffee.

"Hey, do you have a tape measure?" She asked in hopes she wouldn't have to wake up Stella and risk losing a limb.

"A tape measure? Why?" Lena's confusion echoed from the kitchen area and Y/N slowly got on unsteady feet to patter closer to her.

"Just need to take my measurements." She sighed, smelling the coffee Lena was brewing.

"Why?" Lena repeated the question and she knew she wouldn't let it go, she was stubborn like that.

"Rafe needs them." Lena gave her a knowing look. Knowing of what she was unsure. He was such a pain in her ass.

"Why does Rafe need your measurements?" Lena posed the question as she pulled out two mugs and started filling them with the precious liquid.

"I don't know. Something about his stepmom and the wedding. Do you have one or not?" Y/N grabbed the oat milk from the fridge and handed it to Lena who thanked her with a smile.

"Not." Lena poured herself a bit of milk and Y/N a generous amount. The girl was looking at her friend with a deadpan expression after her answer.

"Stel does, though." Y/N groaned, realizing she'd have to sneak into her best friend's room because of Rafe. Ruining her day before it even started, the prick.

"Do you know where she keeps it?" She asked hopeful, praying it might be a quick in and out mission and the risk of waking the lion would be low.

"Hmm. No, sorry. Maybe her desk drawers? That's where she usually keeps her craft supplies." Lena shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee, closing her eyes in pleasure at the strong aroma waking up her tastebuds.

Y/N let out a breath and braced herself for the mission ahead. It would be fine. Stella was probaby knocked out cold. She'd just do a quick check and if she can't find it in the drawer she'd text Rafe to leave her the hell alone until Stella woke up. She crept into Stella's room, her sock clad feet making as little noise as possible as she inched towards the desk. She was almost there when Stella stirred and she froze in place, bracing for an attack. But it never came and Stella kept snoring. She sighed out in relief and went searching through the desk with minimal noise. She managed to find it, in the last drawer of course.

She retraced the footsteps back out of the room and felt impressed when she made it to the living room without waking her friend. Maybe she could be a spy or a cat burglar cause that was seriously cool. Lena was looking at her with a blank expression as she crept back to the kitchen. She swore she had the two most dramatic women for roomates. Stella took the cake of course, but Y/N definitely acted up sometimes and gave Stella a run for her money. It was hard being the reasonable one in the household.

"I got it." Y/N whispered, showing off the prize.

"Good job, bub." Lena said, semi sarcastically, but Y/N just grinned proudly.

"Can you help me?" Lena rolled her eyes but got up to help her friend. They had to look up instructions on how to take measurements correctly and wrote them down in Y/N's notes app. It took longer than they thought it would. Once they finally finished, she sent them to Rafe with what she deemed an appropriate warning.

Baby: here are your damn measurements

Baby: I expect you to be a lot less pushy from now on

Baby: I'm doing you a favor, don't forget that

Lena had packed up her stuff and left the apartment not long after and Rafe responded in suit.

Devil's Spawn: why thank you your holiness I wouldn't dream of being pushy with thee again

She scoffed at his idiotic response just as the next text came in.

Devil's Spawn: u want me to buy u a purse for ur troubles madam?

Baby: that's sexist

Devil's Spawn: so that's a no on the birkin?

She rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him and his sarcastic little messages. She could feel how tired she still was and since it was a day free from classes she figured going back to bed might be her best option. She poured her coffee into a bottle and put it in the fridge for later and then made herself comfy in her own bed. After a night on the couch her back was screaming in protest. She had to remember not to fall asleep in the living room again because her back hurt for days every time it happened. She was just about to fall into a slumber when her phone buzzed on the night stand. She almost groaned but checked it anyway.

Devil's Spawn: can we meet 2day?

She hated the way he texted. Was it so damn hard to just spell out an entire word? She was about to ignore him but the phone buzzed again.

Devil's Spawn: we need 2 go over some stuff 4 wedding

She groaned into her pillow after reading that. Couldn't she go one day without dealing with his bullshit? One day without thinking about the damn wedding she is forced to attend with him? At least she had the car, she reminded herself and smiled. She hadn't had much of a chance to drive it yet, so why not take advantage of it?

Baby: fine. 6pm at Rooftop

The Rooftop Bar was a gorgeous place right outside of town at one of the hotels overlooking the ocean. It was a 30 minute drive so she could enjoy the ride and the beautiful view. That was at least one good thing to come out of this whole mess.

Devil's Spawn: ok see u

With one final eye roll she finally laid her head on her soft pillow and traveled all the way to dreamland. Unfortunately so did her thoughts of a certain irksome boy and his blue-green eyes.

--------

After waking back up around 11, she went on with her day somewhat normally. However, the cloud of her approaching meet up with Rafe kept gnawing at her mind, never letting her fully relax. She debated cancelling at least 20 times, but she didn't. She knew it was time to accept her fate and make peace with the predicament she was in. She reminded herself she'll be getting something out of the deal too. That and the car. She smiled at the thought of the Mustang parked in front of their building.

It was only a few days ago that Rafe reluctantly handed her the keys to his most prized posession. He was sulking the entire time, a pout on his face she would have made fun of if she hadn't been so damn excited nothing could rain on her parade. And frankly, taking something from him that he loved would probably humble him a little and he desparately needed some humbling.

She had been eyeing the Mustang for years. She didn't know a lot about cars but she always liked the classics, fawning over them if she saw one on the road. She didn't care for the men driving them, obviously. She just found older cars to have more character, as most new cars all looked exactly the same to her - she couldn't even tell you what make any uber she'd ever taken was. But the old cars were different, pretty, special. She had always wanted to drive one but never had the opportunity. Suffice to say she had been jealous of Rafe having such a gorgeous car, believing a dickhead like him did not deserve it. And as soon as she had the idea to barter for it, she was ecstatic.

When she slid into the sleek leather seat, turned the key and heard the engine roar, she was in heaven. Rafe's misery at the arrangement was quite enjoyable too, given that he put her in such an impossibly awkward position in the first place. She felt it was only fair he suffer as well. So she didn't feel guilty driving away from him, in his old Mustang, while he looked after her with anger and sadness as she left him in the dust.

She hadn't told her friends what she was going to do, what she would ask of him in the end. They were mad at her for keeping them in suspense and she knew they'd lose their minds once she drove home in Rafe's baby.

She had barely stopped the car in front of their building when she impatiently dialed Stella's phone. Once the girl answered, Y/N only relayed a quick, criptic message of her "coming downstairs, now" and hung up. Stella had been confused but made her way out of the building all the same. As soon as she saw her in the black Mustang, Stella's jaw dropped and Y/N couldn't hide her smirk.

"No. Fucking. Way." Y/N just laughed at her friend's shocked expression.

"You took his car!? Oh my God, you're an evil genious! Remind me never to piss you off." Stella joked as she ran to hug her, both of them beaming in excitement.

"How did you convince him to give you his car? That's like his baby!" Stella shook with nerves and excitement.

"Like you guys said, he couldn't say no." Y/N shrugged, seemingly chill. However, she also couldn't quite believe she managed to get him to give her his fucking car. He really was desparate for this deal to work, otherwise he would have told her to go fuck herself and never spoke to her again. What a mess. But hey, it was a mess he got them into himself and she wasn't going to pass up a good opportunity by feeling guilty about it. He was a dick and he deserved a nice portion of humble pie.

It wasn't until later that night, while Stella and Y/N were in the apartment doing their respective work, that Lena burst through the door looking dishevelled, like she ran all the way to the third floor. The two girls were completely bewildered at their friend until she spoke.

"Where's Rafe?" Lena was looking around the apartment expecting the boy to pop up from behind a counter or something.

"I don't know? What-" Y/N started, but was interrupted.

"Why is his car in the parking lot?" Once Lena posed the question the two girls gave each other a knowing, mischievous look. Lena looked at them confused.

"About that..." Y/N started the story. Suffice to say Lena had been thoroughly shocked and amused by the ordeal.

"I can't believe you took his car. You are devious. He loves that thing more than himself." Lena chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Well, that just isn't true or he wouldn't have agreed." She smirked and the girls nodded in agreement. Lena praised her for her nerve and Y/N thanked Lena for giving her the push to go after what she wanted.

That was two days ago and aside from classes she hadn't had a chance to drive her new car which was tragic considering how excited she was to have it. But tonight that changes. She'll finally have an oportunity to get in her new Mustang and cruise. She was buzzing with butterflies at the prospect. She had picked the location of their meeting specifically so she could enjoy the drive there and back. Also she really loved the place, rarely getting a chance to visit it. It had a gorgeous view, loads of fresh air and affordable drinks. What was not to like?

She decided to put some effort into how she looked tonight, wanting to enjoy herself to the fullest, ignoring the fact that the person she'd be meeting would probably piss her off at some point. She chose to focus on the fun parts of the evening. She picked out a cute outfit, leather jacket in tow, put on a red lip and looked herself over in approval. This is exactly the aesthetic she wanted, the kind befitting a girl driving a car like that. She grinned in excitement and got ready to leave.

She had told the girls she'd be meeting Rafe tonight and she was glad they weren't home to see how much effort she put into her appearace. She knew they'd assume it was for him when it wasn't. Not even a little bit. She was dressing for herself. And while that usually meant comfort to the max, she really wanted to look good tonight.

------

The drive was peaceful, filled with her favourite playlist and the roar of the Mustang she was falling in love with. The sea air was refreshing, helping her calm herself down. No matter how much she was enjoying her ride, the fact was it would end with meeting him. She tried so hard to keep herself cool and carefree but when it came to him it was an impossible feat. He always managed to get under her skin, no matter how much she claimed she didn't care. This whole situation was so messed up and she hated him for putting her in it. It was so absurd she couldn't believe she agreed to it. Even with the stunning automobile she was currently driving.

She forced herself to put it out of her mind for the rest of the trip; so she could enjoy the wind in her hair, fresh air in her lungs and Chappell Roan on the stereo.

Once she stopped the car she noticed he was already there, she could see his bike in the parking lot. A very nice bike, she had to admit. But of course it was, his family was loaded, he only had the best of the best. He had tried making her feel bad about taking his mode of transportation, knowing full well he had his bike to fall back on. She scoffed at the memory. What a bitch.

She had hoped she'd get there first and perhaps have a drink in peace before having to deal with him but alas the universe was not on her side tonight. Well, it seemed like it hasn't been on her side for a while.

Putting aside her anxiety, she held her head up high when she entered the hotel, beelining for the elevator that led to The Rooftop Bar where Rafe was waiting for her. He was early, she realized. It wasn't even 6 o'clock when she parked the car and he was there already. He wasn't usually late, as far as she remembers from their hang outs, but she doesn't think she'd seen him be early either.

Once she stepped out into the fresh evening air she felt herself relax slightly. The twinkling lights spread around the open-air bar were beautiful and the view of the coast breathtaking. She loved the smell of the sea, it always brought her peace. She supposed that's part of the reason why she chose this place, to help her out while she dealt with the one person who always managed to get under her skin.

Her eyes moved across the rooftop until they met his blue ones. He was sat at one of the tables closest to the edge, one with a great view. His eyes had been on her since she stepped foot out of the elevator, having been anxiously waiting for about 20 minutes. He wasn't sure why he came so early but for some reason he just didn't want to be late and risk angering her.

He had the chance to take her in before she noticed him. And boy was she a sight to behold. She looked good, too good. With a dress that hugged her curves just right and a black leather jacket making her look sexy and cool.

She always looked good when they were out together with their friends but for some reason he thought she looked extra nice tonight. Perhaps she was trying to mess with his head. Or maybe she wasn't thinking of him at all when she got dressed. Which was a thought that kind of stung given how much effort he put into his own outfit. He changed at least four times, feeling shockingly nervous to see her. He spent the whole day anxiously awaiting 6pm. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so amped up, maybe because they were meeting up alone, in a really nice and maybe even romantic place. Maybe because it was finally setting in that this whole thing was really happening and that less than two weeks from now they'd be playing a couple in front of his entire family. He chose to chalk his nerves up to the latter, not wanting to dwell on anything else.

It would have been comical, how fast her body language changed once she saw him, if it didn't cause a sharp pain in his chest. A moment ago she had seemed relaxed and maybe joyful but the moment their eyes met she stiffened up, as if she had to be on guard around him. It sucked, thought he knew she had every right to be upset with him, he did put them both in an awkward predicament. It still kind of stung that she felt so unwelcoming toward him. He chose not to dwell on that either and gave her a nod in greeting.

She mentally prepped herself on the walk over to their table, trying to remind herself that she is a grown woman and this man couldn't unhinge her unless she let him. And she wouldn't let him.

"Hey." He stood suddenly and rushed to pull her chair out, the action taking her by surprise.

"Hey. Thanks." She gave him a small awkward smile and he nodded, sitting back into his own chair across from her and waving over a waiter.

She took him in while he was distracted. He looked good and she hated it. With a button up and a leather biker jacket draped over it, he looked efortlessly cool. She was worried for a minute she might be slightly overdressed and he'd be in his usual t-shirt and backwards cap combo but he seemed to have cleaned up too. She supposed it was this place. It had a fancy vibe that made people want to dress just a little nicer for it. That was it, no other reason.

The waiter came and took their order, she realized he had not ordered a drink yet so he must have gotten here only minutes before her. He ordered a craft beer the waiter recomended and she asked for a fruity cocktail. One drink wouldn't hurt, it would help with her nerves. One drink only though, so she could safely drive back home.

"Thanks for meeting me today." He gave her a sweet smile and she responded with a mere nod, not willing to risk speaking when she felt so confused about how nice he was being. It was uncharted territory and she didn't trust it. She had to keep herself on guard.

"I love this place." He looked around with a small genuine smile, and she could tell he was being sincere. "It's a shame we don't come here more often."

"It is, yeah." She gave a tentative smile as she agreed with him. Another extremely unusual occourence - the two of them agreeing on somehing. The silence started dragging on so she decided to stop it before it spread any longer and it became awkward.

"So, what is it you wanted to discuss?" Her voice took him by surprise, breaking him out of a haze he found himself in for a moment.

"Oh, um. Just, stuff for the wedding. We should be prepared, you know." He looked sheepish and her suspicion was rising.

"Sure. So go ahead." She gave him a pointed look.

"Hm?" He looked out of it and her brow furrowed.

"Tell me more about this wedding. Your family. You know, prepare?" She was looking at him oddly, slightly concerned with how airheaded he seemd to be acting.

"Oh, of course yeah." He nodded and readied himself to spill the beans.

"Right. So we should probably start with my family." He looked uncomfortable saying it but she agreed. It did seem like the most important part. Getting them to believe they were a couple.

"Yeah, so theres my dad, my stepmom - her name is Rose, by the way - and my two little sisters." As he recounted his family dynamic and threw in tidbits of information she should probably be aware of, she found herself in awe for a moment. She had known he had sisters but she did not expect the love he exhibited while talking about them.

He mentioned how his relationship with Sarah had been rocky when they were younger but they found a way to communicate in the past year and how relieved he was that they were finally talking again. That he missed her. There was an embarrased but endearing blush on his cheeks at the revelation that made her smile. Once he noticed it, he smiled too. It was an oddly comfortable moment between the pair.

He spoke of his younger sister Wheezie with unbridled adoration, retelling a few childhood stories that made them both laugh. It was weirdly nice, sitting there together like that. Neither of them really expected it to feel that way. Almost, natural. Like they were just two regular people, sitting in a bar and chatting about their lives over drinks.

Soon enough the mood shifted as the story got to his father - Ward Cameron. She found herself bearing resentment towards the man and she'd barely even met him. He was always pompous at any event he'd come to at their college but she wasn't too bothered by him. She knew how to work people like that, figure out what they're like, tell them what they want to hear and she'd be golden. But the cloud over Rafe's head as he spoke about his dad made her heart clench with empathy for the boy. She couldn't imagine having such a terrible relationship with your father that you'd look so miserable at the mere mention of him. It tugged at her heart.

He explained how Ward very much cared for appearances, which she knew already. He mentioned that he always saw Rafe as a disappointment and he really didn't want to be one anymore. She kind of felt bad for him even though in his desparation to impress his dad he put her in this shitty position. The ice around her heart was slowly melting. She still hated the entire ordeal, obviously, but she kind of understood why this was important to Rafe.

She still didn't like that he was using her as a pawn in his game of "win dad's approval" and she wouldn't pretend otherwise no matter how much of a sob story he sold her, though. She knew he was laying it on thicker than necessary to try and gain her sympathy. And while it kind of worked, the method didn't go unnoticed and she resented his manipulation tactics.

He described his stepmother as a vain woman, just as obsessed with image as his father, which made sense. She wasn't sure if his negative image of her was warranted or not, given that she'd never met the woman. She decided to keep his warnings in mind but leave an open mind for Rose. As far his sisters went she already knew she'd like them. She just felt bad that she'd be lying to them. That part sucked.

He mentioned some of the influential people who would be attending this wedding, and she was kind of surprised with just how many people relevant to her future career would be there in one place. And she'd get the chance to network. This really was a good opportunity for her, he wasn't lying when he said that. She was impressed.

She knew he was smart, but it took her by surprise just how much he knew about who she'd be interested in meeting and even giving her some pointers on how to impress a few of them he knew more closely. Rich people really do all stick together. She almost scoffed but refrained as he was doing her a solid giving her these bits of information that could definitely help her when she approached her targets.

When he had finally reached the conclusion in his debrief, the waiter returned to take their empty glasses and ask if they'd like to order more. As much as she enjoyed the sweet cocktail she remembered the promise she made herself and ordered a coke. Rafe ordered the same and gave her a cute smile.

It was odd, how natural it felt opening up to her. Even for a bit. He didn't quite understand how this woman managed to make him feel both exposed and understood at the same time. Like she could see right through him but she simply listened and empathized. It was fucking with his head.

He had spared her most of the details about his father which he deemed not necessary for her to know. It was all about preparing her for the wedding, that's all. He was amused at the way her eyes sparkled when they talked about her part of the deal, all the people on the guest list she would no doubt be able to wow. She seemed kind of excited and it made him feel glad. So far she had only expressed anger and disapproval over their arrangement. But there was a great opportunity for her in it too, which she had been ignoring for the most part. He knew she would manage to charm any one of those guests she wanted to. She was like that, incredibly charismatic and charming. He simply wasn't on the list of people she wished to charm. And he was fine with that, it didn't matter that there was a short burst of pain inside his ribs at the reminder that the only reason she was sitting with him right now was the deal they made.

"So what's with this "Modiste"?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm at the use of the word.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Rose likes to keep things looking perfect. She wants us to match so we need to try some things out." He rolled his eyes at what he deemed his stepmother's dramatics. "The clothes need to be tailored, not a single crease in sight."

For Y/N, it was beginning to sink in just how different their worlds were. The mere clothes they wore were so startlingly different in price, she shuddered to think what this entire wedding would look like. She did not belong in the world of oppulence. She was a small town girl, on a scholarship, trying to make a difference in this world. But the world was quite literally tailored to the upper classes, and her dislike of them had to take a back seat if she wanted to fulfil her dreams. Change starts from within, small steps and all that. She had to remind herself to breathe as her thoughts nearly spun out of control.

Rafe noticed her expression change and frowned.

"Everything okay?" She startled at his voice breaking her out of her daze.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah all good." She gave him an unconvincing smile and he had to hold back from calling bullshit. He didn't want to piss her off, things were finally going somewhat okay between them and he wanted it to continue on like that.

"Okay so we just gotta pick out a few outfits on Tuesday and that's what we'll be wearing. Rose will take care of everything else, like always." He attempted a joke in order to relieve the tension that was radiating off of her.

"Right. Makes sense." She nodded trying to focus on the topic at hand. "Wait a few outfits?" She questioned, confused.

"Oh, yeah. Well one for the first day, the rehersal dinner-" she interrupted him before he got to finish his thought.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on." He looked bemusedly at her.

"What?" Her brows furrowed in confusion at his words.

"What do you mean the first day?" He was looking at her like she had grown a second head.

"Well, the rehearsal dinner, as I was saying. Then the wedding on Saturday-" he didn't get to finish again.

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna stop you right there." He was barely holding in his annoyance at her rude interruptions.

"You're saying this is a two day deal?" She was looking like she was about to pass out and alarm bells finally started ringing in his head.

"It's actually three days." His voice was careful, trying not to upset her further because she seemed like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Three days?!" Her voice was louder than she expected, and she got a few dirty looks from the table next to them.

"I told you this?" It came out as a weak attempt to placate her.

"No. You did not." She was glaring at him, and if looks could kill he would be a full 6 feet under this hotel.

"I swear, I thought I told you!" His desparation could be felt through every syllable.

"Rafe I swear to God-"

"I'm sorry! I really thought I did..." he looked petrified. Like the very thin line they had been toeing was about to break and he wasn't sure he could ever fix it if it did.

She got up from the table and walked away without a second glace. It happened so fast, one second she was there, steam practically coming out of her ears, then he blinked and he was faced with her back leaving the bar. He jumped into action, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill and ran after her.

She had already gotten onto the elevator by the time he reached it and she purposefully closed the doors on him... Fuck. He realised his only option was to run down the stairs as fast as he could in hopes he reaches her before she takes off.

By the time he runs out of the staircase the elevator is empty and he curses his luck. He rushes out, panting, panicking, ready to see his car gone but it isn't. The car is still parked in front of the hotel but she's nowhere in sight. His relief turns to confusion, turns to concern until he notices something moving across the road and sees her standing at the railing overlooking the ocean. He hurries to join her. Her eyes are closed and she's breathing in a deliberate manner.

"Y/N/N-"

"Don't." She interrupts him again, this time he lets the silence roll. They stand there for what feels like eons but in reality was no more than 2 minutes. She opens her eyes and stares at the sea bellow them, the waves crashing into the cliffside. Her breathing evens out and she exhales a deep breath.

She had to get away from him, she needed a minute to breathe, calm herself down. She was reaching an anxiety attack up there and she needed out.

He stood a few feet away, mimicking her posture, waiting for her to speak or move or do something. He was so scared he screwed the whole thing up by not telling her. He really did think he had. But to be frank, he mostly blocked out those extremely embarrassing moments when he revealed to her the truth of his transgression and begged her to help him. So how was he to know if he actually did or didn't mention it? By her reaction though, it was clear this was the first time she was hearing about it. He wanted to slap himself.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, small, defeated almost.

She finally looked at him then and realized he wasn't lying about believing he had told her about the wedding being a three day affair.

She wanted to cuss him out, slap him, tell him to take his car keys back and to leave her the fuck alone for the rest of time. But the way he was looking at her, so broken, so desparate, sad. Like she was holding his entire world in the palm of his hands and if she dropped it he wouldn't survive it. And she cursed herself for being empathetic because he really kept pulling the rug from under her again and again. Just when she thought she was finally in control, understood what she was dealing with, he reveals something else that tilts her world off its axis.

She sighed again and looked out at the setting sun. He kept his eyes on her. He was sure she would have cussed him out by now or maybe pushed him over the railing by how angrily she had looked at him back at the table. But she hadn't. Hadn't left either. She was still there. Maybe there was still hope.

"I swear, I thought I told you." He repeated himself pathetically, not knowing what else to do. She looked at him, the intensity in her eyes knocking his breath out of him. He was at her mercy yet again.

"I know." He looked dazed at her words. Hopeful for her next.

"You hate me now?" His voice was barely a whisper at that point. Why does he always fuck everything up?

"I don't know." Ouch. He was kind of hoping for a no. By the dejected look on his face she realized her words were a mistake. And untrue.

"No. I still don't hate you." She spoke looking back at the horizon. His head swiveled back to stare at her gauging if she was being truthful or playing with him. He was greatful it was the latter.

"Are you gonna back out?" The silence and the suspence were bad for his health, he felt faint. She let out a loud breath, seemingly fighting with herself.

"No." His eyes snapped up to hers incredibly quickly. But before he could say anything she continued.

"But you need to be honest with me. No more surprises, okay? I can't deal with any more of this shit." He was nodding along with her words enthusiastically, trying to hold in a smile that was desparate to come out. She wasn't abandoning him. She was still with him.

"I swear!" His hands were in the air in an apologetic manner.

"So is that it? Or is there anything else I should know that you forgot to mention?"

"No, that's all, I promise." He was nodding again, trying to convince her he was serious.

"Rafe, I swear to God if anything else pops up-"

"It won't!" He came closer to her, staring in her eyes, begging her to believe him. His move startled her but she didn't move, couldn't. It was as if his eyes were keeping her in a trance. She could see no sign of deception in them, so she nodded.

He finally let the smile out, the relief and gratitude overwhelming him. She hated that the sight of him made her want to smile too. She kept hold of herself though. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"So, three days?" He realized she was asking for an explanation.

"Right. So the plan is we get there on Friday in time for the rehearsal dinner. Then Saturday is the wedding and reception. That's where you get to make your move." He gave her a cheeky wink and she rolled her eyes.

"And then Sunday is recovery from the wedding and a continuation of the celebration for the bride and groom's closest family and friends. A way to spend some time together before they go off on their honeymoon."

"So three whole days of playing the part." She was deep in thought. Partly doubting her ability to pull it all off for so long, partly hyping herself up at the prospect of those connections that were so close to her reach.

"Look, I know it's more than you exepected but it's not a big deal." The look she gave him showed him her thoughts. Bullshit. He cracked a smile. She wanted to slap it off him. He was too damn cocky for either of their goods.

"You do realize we have to convice your family, friends and everyone else there that we're a couple, right?" He nodded, as if it was obvious.

"And we have never been able to not piss each other off for more than an hour." She waved back toward the hotel, reminding him of their most recent disasterous interaction. He sighed, putting his head in his hands, exasperated.

"So what then? I don't know what you want me to do. You're the one who ran away from me." He looked at her and noticed her glare was back. And they had just fixed things. This was exhausting.

"I needed a moment to breathe and think after getting yet another major reveal from you." She was right.

"I know. I'm sorry." He approached her again.

Why did he keep getting into her personal space, looking at her like that? Why did it keep affecting her the way it was? Why did she keep letting him? He was a breath away, it seemed. And those eyes looked anything but sorry then. They looked wild. As if their proximity was ruining both of their resolves. She had to put an end to this tomfoolery. So she stepped away, crossing the street back to the parking lot, leaving him dazed and confused.

After a moment he followed, hands in his pockets portraying a picture of nochalance which was nothing more than a facade. She saw through it but she didn't want to know whatever it was that was going through his head now. She needed this interaction done with, once again feeling drained of all energy. It was like he had this annoying ability to rattle all her senses just by being near her. She hated that. She opened the car door, his car door, feeling his stare boring into her.

"I'll see you at the Modiste." She offered a neutral, but somewhat friendly goodbye. He nodded, looking at her with an intensity she didn't know what to do with.

He hated seeing her like this. So calm and collected when he was anything but. Hated how easy it was for her to walk away from him, time and time again. How pathetic he felt wishing she wouldn't, again and again.

She looked infuriatingly good, standing by his car, like she owned it. Like she had the right to drive it. It pissed him off that it suited her, looked like it was made for her when it was his most prized posession, which she stole from him. He hated how much he liked seeing her getting into the drivers seat, how he got a great view of her ass as she did. Hated how much every little thing about her seemed to affect him in the worst ways. Mostly he hated that he didn't hate any of it, how much it stirred inside of him, stuff he wanted to pretend did not exist. And he resented her for not feeling the same unhinged way he always seemed to when they're together. He hadn't moved from his position by the car, not even an inch. Just staring at her while she turned the ignition on and the familiar sound of the old muscle car roaring to life shot a pang through his heart.

He resented how good she looked driving his car. It was so fucking unfair.

She looked back at him, confused as to his state of mind, from the intensity on his face and the way his eyes just wouldn't leave her. She felt an overwhelming urge to break the tension somehow. Just driving away while he stared at her seemed too unnerving of a prospect.

"You promise no more surprises?" She managed to break him out of his reverie then. He clearly did not expect her to speak again. He processed her words and smirked.

"What would life be like if there were no surprises, Y/N/N?" The look she gave him made him laugh and reassure her.

"No. No more surprises. Scout's honor." Dramatically, he puts a hand over his heart.

"Good. Because if I show up there and find out that it's actually our wedding or something, I'm going to murder you."

Those were the last words he heard before she took off in his beloved Mustang. Once again leaving him in the dust, this time a live wire from their encounter. He was left with the unfortunate image she had now put in his head. Why would she say that?

Why would she say that? What was she thinking? At least she managed to take him by surprise and break whatever daydream he was in. But why did she say that? Now she was thinking of how awkward it was. She wanted to leave on a funny and unaffected note but now she was left embarrased.

She took a breath and made a conscious decision not to dwell on that cringe mistake and leave it in the rearview along with him. And as she drove further away from the hotel and the man in front of it she managed to convince herself the worst was behind her and whatever came from now on would be easier.

Just as she was starting to believe it, she heard the roar of a motorcycle and she knew it was him. She expected him to zoom past her but he slowed down to match her pace. She looked over at him confused, but couldn't see his face. So she did the only thing she could think of in that moment and waved at him. That seemed to do the trick as he waved back and finally took off in front of her, leaving her to wonder what the hell just happened.

-------

When she finally got into bed that night, freshly showered and tummy full, she noticed a text notification on her phone.

Devil's Spawn: it looks good on u

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. And then it dawned on her. The weird moment on the road. He was checking her out while she was driving his car. Her cheeks turned a furious shade of red as it sank in. And he had the audacity to send that text. Not only was he checking her out but he wanted her to know it too. What a pompous douchebag.

She decided that the fluttery feeling in her stomach was caused by the anger at being so blatantly objectified, not because he was flirting with her. His message went unanswered as she forced herself to calm down and get some sleep. This would prove a futile attempt, him once again making her too riled up and forcing her into yet another long and restless night.

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Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @lovelornanonymity @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @emeloyy @kanib45 @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @hey-sunrisee @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @bookaholics-stuff @zzzina7 @fangirlwithlou @namelesssav @rafesxgold @cmac-writes @malfoytargaryen @alinaharlow @mveggieburger @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @vifuckingp @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @mew227 @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @tpwk-mia @starkeysbebe

#rafe cameron #my work #rafe cameron x reader #(not) my baby #nmb #drew starkey #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx #outer banks #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating

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kasagia · 10 months

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❄️️Warm my heart pt. 1❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit. Nonsense from me: A spontaneous Christmas mini-series. We'll see how it develops... I hope you will like it 🩵🖤 P.S. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't know if there's any equivalent to our Christmas… let's just say there is and I'll try to find out to be sure😅 Word Count: 3k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Oh saints, I'm freezing here." Fedyor complains as he walks next to you through the snowdrifts.

"Don't be such a grump." you say, adjusting your black fur coat that protects your neck from the cold wind. You look at the sky. The clouds were swirling above you, and the snow was still falling. In moments like these, you kind of wish you were Inferni.

"Grumpy? We had been walking around, searching for this stag, the whole day. I start to doubt if that tracker can find it."

"That tracker had seen it." Mal's voice is coming behind you. You turn to see him helping Alina walk through the snow. "It had to go somewhere to await the snowstorm."

"We should do the same." you tremble as you hear General's right behind you. You feel his warm body and beating heart before he stands next to you. "It's getting worse with each hour. We should go back to camp." he says, looking at Ivan.

"Yes, sir." Ivan who came with him nods to him and looks at the rest.

All of you are following him. You see Zoya and the general talking to him about something in the front. Mal and Alina whisper something quietly to each other. The tracker looks distrustfully at the three Grishas in front of him. You decide to stay with Fedyor a little after them.

"Lovers' quarrel?" you ask him as you see him trying to stay as far away from Ivan as he can. He also has not looked at him even once since you all got together after hours of searching Morozova's stag.

"You can say that. I want to go on holiday with my family and take him with me. He refused... well, it's putting it mildly."

"He needs time. I'm sure he will gladly come with you to meet your cousins and siblings." you defend him.

You know very well that Ivan wasn't necessarily eager to leave the Little Palace. He rarely saw his family. Like you, he didn't have many... people in his family who accepted him as Grisha. Fedyor was lucky to have someone to write letters to and visit during the holidays. Ivan was also more conservative; he did not engage in closer relationships with people, except for his fiancé.

Just like someone else you know...—you think, staring at the back of the general's head.

Snowflakes fall on his black kefta, making it even harder for you to take your eyes off him. You stopped counting the number of times you just wanted to go up to him, run your hand through his hair, hug him while simultaneously hiding in his black kefta, or kiss those temptingly soft lips that gave orders to thousands of soldiers.

The beating of his heart has become wonderful music for you to work with since you somehow became his second-in-command and started to spend more time with him in the war room.

It also worsened your crush on him… but it was a sacrifice you could bear for the sake of Ravek and Grishas.

"I hope so. I haven't seen them for a year. I wanted to finally introduce Ivan to them. Especially after our engagement." he sighs sadly, staring blankly at the footprints in front of you. You look at him sympathetically. As you notice snowflakes gathering on his shoulder, you think of an idea to make him laugh and maybe feel a little better.

You stand for a moment and bend down to your shoe, pretending to try to tie it. Fedyor stops and waits for you, his eyes patrolling the area and the forest surrounding you. You weren't that far from the capital, but some of Drüskelle's unit could always show up. You take advantage of his moment of inattention, form a snowball, and throw it at him.

You laugh quietly as the snowball hits his back. Fedyor gives you a surprised look before smirking and accepting the challenge. You silently throw snowballs at each other from behind, trying to stay silent enough so that no one notices what you two are doing.

At one point, you dodge a snowball thrown by Fedyor, causing it to hit Alina. The Sun Summoner turns towards you and lets out a small huff of laughter as he sees the two of you covered in snow. He nudges Mal with his elbow, and soon the four of you are left far behind the others, throwing snowballs at each other.

You laugh as you form teams against each other. You and Fedyor do quite well against them... at least until, instead of throwing a snowball at Mal's face, you manage to hit General Kirigan, who seems to have noticed your absence and come back to find you.

You all freeze, watching the snow fall from his face onto the kefta. Beside him, Zoya tries her best not to burst out laughing. Ivan, on the other hand, gives the four of you an irritated, disbelieving look.

"Ten minutes… we can't let you out of our sight for ten minutes," Kirigan says, wiping his face with a handkerchief and brushing away the remaining snow from his face.

"Our apologies, General." Fedyor says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight.

"Whose genius idea was it?" he asks, hiding his handkerchief and brushing off the excess snow from his black coat. To no avail, judging by the snow still falling on you. But that didn't change the fact that he was as intimidating as he was in any setting.

You see Alina take a breath to take the blame, but you cut her off before she could. "My, sir. I wanted to lighten the mood. I apologise; it won't happen again. We won't delay our return."

Your remorseful look and tone of voice make him relax. His stern gaze softens, and you can practically hear Fedyor teasing you about it.

"Just don't get left behind." he says and turns on his heel, leading you all again back to the camp.

Zoya stares at you, surprised at how smoothly you managed to pull off something like insulting the general of the Second Army by throwing a snowball at his face. However, she quickly comes back to her senses and tries to catch up with the general to talk to him about something. Ivan, on the other hand, just shakes his head and wordlessly follows the Black General like his shadow.

"Seriously? If it were me, he'd tear me apart just by looking at me," Mal grumbles to himself.

"Don't worry so much. He would do it to anyone. He has a soft spot only for Y/N. Well, and maybe Alina, since she is one-of-a-kind." Fedyor says quietly and pats him on the back. Alina snickers and takes Mal's arm as they both follow the trail of the three Grishas. You roll your eyes at your dear friend's words.

"Stop it. It's ridiculous. Don't even insinuate something like that. With Zoya and Alina in the picture, I mean nothing more to him than a soldier, his second-in-command. At best, a friend."

"Sure. The beating of his heart every time you look at him is an obvious clue that this is the case. Besides, you've seen yourslef. You are the only one who can hit him with a snowball and stay safe and sound. He didn't even raise his voice at you. The two of you are so damn obvious and so damn stubborn that even if you ended up in bed together, you both would consider it an accident."

"Oh, shut up." he laughs, hitting me on the arm with his.

"What? Why do you think he made you stop your training as a healer and decide for you to be a heartrender instead of making you a main healer? You would have stuck in an infirmary far away from him. That way, he sees you often, plus you have black embroidery on your kefta." he says and winks suggestively. You huff in amusement, shaking your head.

"You are ridiculous. We work together. That's all. There's nothing more between us. At best, it's camaraderie. Besides, he can have anyone."

"But he wants you. Do you think he gives flowers to everyone on Women's Day? Or does he buy birthday gifts? Does he even remember about someone's birthday?" you blush, you feel your cheeks turn the bloody color of your kefta and it's not because of the cold.

"I remember him wishing Ivan a happy birthday." you mutter under your breath.

"Because he was standing next to us when I gave this idiot a gift." he says, obviously still angry at his fiancé.

"Give it up. Him and I—it's not going to happen. He's a womanizer. Zoya is not his first mistress. And I am definitely not his type or league."

"Well, now that you've brought it up... little birdie told me that he cut off all non-Army relations with her. And guess when? When you became his second-in-command. And guess who he pushes away, despite the fact that she's desperately trying to get back into his bed?"

"It does not matter. He probably has his eyes on Alina and wants to make a good impression."

Fedyor groans in annoyance at your response. Before you know it, you're back at camp, with no trace of the rest of your companions. The man next to you sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair.

"If you keep fighting it for so long and denying it, which makes no sense by the way, then yes. He'll find someone else. Take the opportunity before you regret it. Christmas is coming! Maybe some miracle will happen that will make you both see that you have to end together, because only saints can make the two of you see things together, you stubborn donkeys." he says and leaves you alone, going saints know where.

You sigh, walking back to your tent. However, before you strip off the layers of clothes that protect you from heat loss, you notice that you have no firewood. You go back to the forest and collect twigs and small logs of wood that you can use to light a fire at night.

You go back to camp, dragging a small wood sled behind you. You think about Fedyor's words and whether they might actually turn out to be true. You blush as you remember the countless late nights spent in the war room talking to the general about plans, reports, new recruits, or just drinking his kvass with him and talking about anything and everything. It's true, you were close... but would you be willing to jump in and risk everything—your entire career and the life you created in the Little Palace—to try to be more to him than just one of his soldiers? Especially when he could have had a Sun Summoner?

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice familiar, dark shadows starting to swirl behind you. You scream in shock, both from the feeling of someone suddenly pulling you into his chest and from the fact that the skin on your neck and face meets the icy snow.

General Kirigan's laughter, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the warmth emanating from him calm you enough to realise that you are not in the arms of anyone dangerous. Well... if a shadow summoner could be considered such. But the coolness of the snow he rubs into your face and neck effectively shakes you from thoughts of him as you try to fight back.

He chuckles and holds you tighter with one hand as you kick and struggle in his arms.

“A good soldier knows when to surrender, Y/N.” he whispers into your ear, clearly amused. His silky tone of voice was as mischievous as it was slightly defiant and dangerous. "Shouldn't you have enough honour to obediently endure the punishment of your general?"

"Punishment? What for?" you ask as you manage to wipe the snow off your face enough to keep it from sticking in your mouth as you speak.

"Do you think I would let your little stunt get away with it? I wonder if you can still throw so accurately with snow in your kefta…" he says, slowly scooping up more snow and guiding his hand with it under your coat.

"NO!" you scream, amused and scared at the same time.

You use your powers to stun him for a moment and pull yourself out of his arms. You don't get very far, though. His shadows chase after you, and he keeps you tightly against his chest again. You struggle with him so much that you both fall screaming into a large snowdrift.

You land on top of him, blushing furiously as you realise this. The snow around you cools you a little, and you start to feel the cold seep into your bones despite everything.

"Armistice?" you ask him, your hand full of snow ready to attack.

He chuckles, amused, which only makes your smile widen. You had rarely seen him so… carefree. Especially now that he was so focused on finding Morozova's stag.

"For now. I will still look for my revenge." you whine, dissatisfied.

"It was only one snowball, Aleksander. I wasn't even aiming at you!" you protest. You squeak, surprised, as he switches, so now he is on top of you. A dangerous smile played on his face as he looked at you with a mischievous spark in his dark eyes.

"You think so?" he asks with a cheeky smirk, the hand holding the snow coming dangerously close to the buttoms of your kefta under your coat.

"All right, you won! Please don't. I'm freezing."

He frowns when he hears that you are cold. He lets go of the snow and wipes his hand on his coat before touching your cheek. He sighs, feeling how cold you are. He stands up first and helps you up, still watching you carefully.

"Let's go back to the camp. I wouldn't want my second-in-command to get sick because she decided to play in the snow" he says, and you blush slightly.

He only makes you redder by taking your hands in his and breathing warm air on them. You see the nostalgia in his eyes, and you can't help but ask him a question.

"What is it?"

"It's just... it's been so long since I did it. The last person I threw snowballs with was my sister. It feels like... centuries ago." he whispers thoughtfully, not letting go of your hands.

Unconsciously, he starts drawing patterns on your hands with his thumbs. You see him going back to his memories. How his eyes darken with sadness, even hurt. You don't know what must have happened to make him so depressed, but you feel the inner need to fight off all his worries just to see his smile again—the gleam of joy in those dark, hypnotising eyes.

"Well… maybe you can do it again? After all, the holidays are coming. You'll definitely want to visit her. Or she you." you say, choosing your words carefully. He didn't talk much about his family. Even his name was a big secret. And from your information, as long as it was good, you were the only one who knew it.

"It's a little more complicated." he says it gruffly and pulls away from you. You curse yourself in your mind, not even knowing what you did wrong. "Neither of us sees anything... special about it."

"You don't have a family meeting? Never?"

"We're not close. I don't remember when was the last time we got together. Not to mention something as insignificant and trivial as all this exchange of gifts, celebrations and prayers to the saints." he replies, pulling your sled of wood as you both walk back to camp.

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you change the subject and ask about the next steps in his plan to capture the deer, and he perks up a little more.

Little does General Kirigan know that you're half-listening to him, thinking about something entirely else. The distant look in his dark eyes when he talks about his family—that hidden longing for something he pretends not to want—tells you one thing.

You will make sure he feels different this year. You will do everything to replace his clearly unpleasant memories with harshness from his loved ones, memories he doesn't want to share with something better.

"We'll discuss the details in my tent tonight. I hope you don't get sick. We don't have time for any delays. We have to finally catch that damn stag by the end of the year at the latest. Although our only tracker who saw it will keep hanging around the Summoner Sun instead of tracking, I don't see it well." he says, and anyone else would find his words harsh and irritated, but you've long since learned that his eyes are the true reflection of his feelings and emotions.

The one thing he couldn't control. He gives you the rope of the sled, and before he leaves you, he ties his scarf around your neck, mumbling something about how you don't know how to pack the most necessary things for the mission.

You go back to your tent and light a fire. After a while, a fabricator comes in and hands you black leather gloves without saying a word. He's gone before he can see you smiling and blushing, realising WHO told him to make them for you.

You shake your head, trying to get past Fedyor's teasing words from the hours ago. It's just a friendly gesture. Nothing more.

But this is the moment when you make your final decision.

You will see the general again, as happy and carefree as he was a few moments ago. So relaxed and calm as he deserves to be, at least in this time of year...

Even if, along the way, your stupid heart had to completely and hopelessly fail for a man you could never have.

Thank you! 🩵🖤🩵🖤

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

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mirandasidefics · 5 months

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But Home Is Nowhere- Chapter 7

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Part 7 Summary: Reader joins Nesta and Bryce for an experiment at the Prison.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warning(s): Spoilers for Crescent City 3

A/N: I'm sorry this is so short and took so long. I had a really tough time writing this chapter after getting sick earlier this month.

As usual now there are some minor spoilers from HOFAS. I have a little head canon that Bryce was able to enter the Prison because she is a blood relation to Rhysand, albeit distant, so that's how she got past the wards without him having to be present.

I'm interested to see what people think regarding how or why Lucien showed up when he did...I'm toying with some ideas...

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 6

You were fucking freezing. Teeth chattering, full body tremor freezing. The Prison, with its shores swathed in mist and snow covered peak, was on an isolated island in the far northern regions of Prythian, so of course it had to be cold. Wind and snow whipped around you and your two companions as you all stood on the far northern side of the mountain top. You were still dressed in the Illyrian leathers as you weren’t really given the chance to change after having quickly grabbed your cell phone from the town house at Bryce’s direction. Said female then winnowed you and Nesta directly from your bedroom. Neither female had yet to explain what this “experiment” would entail and why you needed your cell phone, which had minimal power left and no way for you to ever charge it again once the battery finally drained.

You rarely turned your phone on these days, wanting to preserve its power for when you were desperate. Desperate, lonely, and longing to see your loved ones. Every time you looked at the pictures on your phone you would break down crying. You would allow yourself no more than two minutes to quickly scan through the images. Eyes longing to linger and memorize the sleeping features of your nephew and the wide smile of your Father. The candid shots from Christmas morning and the Halloween when your nephew dressed as a Fireman, only for the outfit to be a size too big, always made you smile. Your nephew would be 7 now, and you tried to not think about how upset he must have been that you were not there for his birthday. You blinked rapidly, fighting back the sting of tears. Silver started to line your eyes as you conjured the image of him sitting in front of cake getting ready to blow out the candles. Instead you forced yourself to replace the image of your nephew with that of Nyx. You had promised to bake cookies together with Elain before the family dinner tonight.

Your small group slowly trudged through the snow towards what appeared to be an entrance of a cave. Its mouth was jagged with sharp uneven rocks. Scanning over the area, you weren’t even sure that you would fit through the narrow opening. Hopefully you would not be going inside, not without protection anyway.

“Okay, so this will be a two-part experiment,” Bryce finally revealed before grasping you by the shoulders. “For the first I need you to stand right…here.” She then spun you around so you could peer inside. You weren’t entirely sure what she had planned, but you were certain that you were not going to like it. The darkness that loomed just on the other side of the cave mouth was unnatural, and every human instinct in your body was screaming at you to run away. Run far and run fast. This did not appear to be an official entrance to the Prison. Was it even guarded? It had to be. Otherwise whatever vial things lurked inside would be clawing at the chance to escape through what amounted to be no more than a crack.

A strong gust of wind blew past and a shiver ran down your spine. You chanced a look back at Bryce and Nesta. Both were whispering quietly between themselves. You turned back to examine the stone again. What was so special about this, and why did you-

Hands were suddenly at your back and shoved you hard. You screamed in surprise as your body fell forward having not braced itself for the unexpected impact. Your hands flew forward trying to catch the rock in order to stop yourself from falling right into the cave. However, the rock was slippery and a sharp edge slashed the palm of your right hand. You practically face planted the hard stone that made up the bottom of the cave. One of them had pushed you into the cave, somehow by passing any wards that should have kept unwanted guests out. The darkness came crashing down and panic raced through you. You whipped around and saw that the entrance had nearly tripled in size. The light from the entrance was disturbingly minimal compared to what it should have been given it appearing large enough to have either Cassian or Azriel easily walk through with their wings spread wide open. You picked yourself up from the cold ground as quickly as you could. The space in front of you appeared as if a veil hung from the top of the stone. Bryce and Nesta were on the other side, their eyes surprisingly filled with conflict. You carefully lifted your hand towards the veil. You expected pain or a force that would push you back or even solid wall. Anything that would have kept you locked inside. Instead, your hand passed right through completely unhindered. You hadn’t expected that, but the smile that spread across Bryce’s face indicated that she did. And whatever gamble she decided to make with this experiment paid off. You wanted to smack that smile off her face. Before you had a chance to really think on the intelligence of that decision, you marched right out of the cave and grabbed the collar of her coat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You screamed. “What if I couldn’t get out? More to the point I could have died!”

“But you didn’t,” She reasoned, her smile growing to show off her teeth. “And since I was right… It’s nice to formally meet you, cousin.” You felt your face scrunch up. You were aware of the theory that you may be related to someone who’s blood was attached to the sealed gate near the River House. But to have that be confirmed…No. This didn’t prove anything. As far as you could remember, only the High Lord of the Night Court could open the wards of the Prision. Unless…

“You and Ruhn are able to open the wards here too, aren’t you?” You let go of the redhead, hands dropping to your side. You knew that they had explored the island more than anyone in recent years during their visits to Prythian. “The three of us and Rhysand…we’re all descendants of Queen Theia and…” Bryce nodded.

“We can. Although I do have to admit that reason dictates that Ruhn and I shouldn’t be able to since the Prison was created by Silene. It should only be her direct descendants only with that ability. My brother and I do not fit that bill being the descendants of her sister that had remained on Midgard.” You let out a breath.

“It probably goes without saying, but I would suggest that this information not get back to Rhysand,” Nesta spoke up.

“No shit,” You agreed.

“That means no telling Lucien,” Nesta gave you pointed look. Her steel eyes cold and filled with warning. You tried not to back away from the look, but the disapproval in it brought up a feeling of embarrassment and shame. You almost got the impression that she didn’t approve of your friendship with the courtier. You didn’t want to think on the reasons as to why, but you hazard a guess it had to do with Elain. You wondered if the middle sister was aware of the frequency of which you and her mate spent sharing a bed over the past year. Nothing inappropriate ever occurred, but the two of you had just grown used to falling asleep in the same room.

“Then neither of you can tell your respective mates.”

“No shit,” Nesta threw your words back at you.

“Alright. This revelation stays between the three of us,” Bryce agreed. “But if you ever join us in Midgard we can always do DNA testing. It may help shed even more light onto how you got here.” You nodded, recognizing that it would take more energy that you had right now to convince Rhysand to allow you to travel to the other planet.

“So, what’s the second part of the experiment?” You asked changing the subject.

“The next part is where your phone is required. Do you have any picture of where you lived? Either your apartment or your parent’s house?” Bryce inquired. You nodded.

“I do, but I’m not sure how much battery life I have left,” You slowly pulled out your phone. “What happens if it doesn’t turn on?”

“Just try it first,” She encouraged. You pressed the power button and within a few seconds the screen lit up. The welcome message popped up and soon after your phone was ready for use. You quickly opened the Gallery App and began to search through the images for a picture of your parent’s home. You found a short video you had saved of your nephew dancing along to a TV show he was watching. While it wasn’t a picture, it was the best image of the entire living room. You handed the phone over to Bryce, who pressed play. At the sound of the music Nesta stepped closer and peered over Bryce’s shoulder.

“The picture moves?” She breathed. “How is that possible?”

“It’s a video. I’ll explain it more thoroughly later.” You offered. Bryce replayed the two-minute video before returning the device. The battery was at 15%. You quickly powered it down.

“Okay, I’ll need you to hold my hands and picture that living room in your mind,” She instructed. “I’m going to try and open a portal using the Horn.” She took your hands in hers and closed her eyes.

You swallowed, unsure if her plan would work. From what Bryce had mentioned to you previously, she had only ever been able to open portals to either people or places that she had known personally. Never to a place she was unfamiliar with. And your world was a place that you were certain magic did not work the same way as it did here. However, you were desperate to find out if the Horn would be successful. If this worked, you could go home. And while you would be unable to say your goodbyes, you attempted to justify to yourself that it would be best for all involved. Nyx was still young enough that you would be easily forgotten with little risk of abandonment issues popping up in later life. It would be the adult males in your life that would make leaving more difficult. For a brief moment you genuinely wondered if Ruhn would insist on going with you. He had recently started alluding to possibly staying in Prythian. If he ever did decide to stay, you knew- deep down you knew-that it would be for you. However, if he did follow you, life in your world would be incredibly difficult for him. He’d lose his magic and likely his immortality. Finding work would be nearly impossible without legal documentation and getting that would be expensive. Not to mention the plethora of questions that would arise when you returned after missing for a year, only to show up with a strange man on your arm. He’d come up with some rational as to why he should accompany you back. There had been no significant changes in Midgard with the Asteri, so Ruhn along with his sister and Hunt were all still considered fugitives. They returned to Midgard on occasion to continue their efforts in fighting the good fight, they always returned to Prythian when various authorities got too close to finding them. So perhaps the most convincing argument would be that you wouldn’t need him, but his friends and family sure as hell did. He was needed for when things did finally go south.

Settling on your decision, you closed your eyes and pictured your parent’s living room. Flashes of memories crossed your mind. Birthday parties, holidays, and sleepovers with friends. Anything and everything that allowed the image of the room to stay strong. Soon after you heard a faint whirring sound that reminded you of the opening of portals in Doctor Strange. You stopped breathing. Your ears listened for any familiar voices or sounds of your former home. The only sound was the wind as it continued to whip around you. You cracked open an eye and your heart sank. Before you and Bryce, was a black void. An open portal that led to nothing. No sound could be heard, nor light appeared to indicate that any life existed in the emptiness. You fought back the tears as your hope shattered.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N),” Nesta’s voice was soft. You couldn’t take your eyes off the portal as it slowly closed. Bryce squeezed your hands before letting go. You shook your head in an effort to fight off the negative thoughts that you knew were on their way. The attempt had failed, and you had gotten your hopes up. You knew that you shouldn’t have placed too much on to something that sounded too good to be true. You guessed that it would have been too easy, too simple, for her to open a portal. Nothing in your life could be that simple.

“We should get back,” You finally looked at the other females. “Nyx should be finishing breakfast soon and we’ve got a full day of activities planned.” Nesta set her hand on your shoulder.

“Take a minute,” Her voice was surprisingly soothing.

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do.” Bryce insisted. “We’ll go back when you’re ready.” The two females walked a few steps away from where you stood. Your eyes returned to the spot where the failed portal had closed. Your mind grew quiet as your vision lost focus. Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You tried to fight off the emotions as they spiraled down, scared that if you allowed yourself to feel them that it would take too long to come back up. You couldn’t afford to be in a fog. Not when you had to care for Nyx. Not when seeing him would just force the image of your own nephew, now fresh in your mind, to surge forward. You blinked rapidly, but that didn’t stop the liquid that brimmed your eyes from spilling over. The hopelessness crashed into you like a tidal wave. You wrapped your arms around yourself and sunk down onto your knees. Your chest felt like it cracked in two. The wind picked up, capturing your cries and carrying them away. You couldn’t see through the tears as they continued their relentless streams. You sobbed into the frozen mountain side. Your lungs began to burn and your vision tunneled. Your frozen limbs began to shake violently. Just as it all began, a warmth enveloped you. A warmth you felt you would recognize anywhere.

“It's okay, sweet girl,” Lucien held onto you tightly. “You’ve got time to cry. I’m right here.”

Next: Chapter 8

TAG LIST: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #lucien x reader #crescent city x reader #lucien #lucien vanserra x reader #bhinfic #ruhn #ruhn danaan x reader #ruh #ruhn danaan x plus size reader #lucien van #lucien vanserra x plus size reader #az #azriel x plus size reader

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talesof-old · 10 months

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sleeping in | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x reader

warning(s): none really, brown!james (no specified ethnicity, just that he has darker skin), fluff, not my best work but i’m trying to get back into writing more frequently

word count: 623

masterlist

holiday corner series

sleepy, snowy mornings with james potter

You came to slowly, fighting your body’s natural urge to wake. Sunlight shone in through the windows, bright and blinding as it reflected off the fresh fallen snow. Christmas was just days away, and the celebrations were to be held at your’s and James’ place. Piles of unhung garland filled your living room, last minute decorations you’d forgotten to put up nearly a month ago.

You shifted in bed. Pressed against your back, James was a human furnace unwilling to be parted from you. One of his arms was wrapped tightly around your waist and used to keep your body flush to his. You smiled. In sleep, he looked so peaceful. Nightmares rarely plagued him, instead leaving his face still and calm all throughout the night. Despite yourself, you raised a hand and brushed a haphazard curl off of his forehead. His eyelids twitched, lips pursing in a small pout that sent your heart singing.

Dark eyelashes fluttered over unblemished brown cheeks. You turned in his embrace, nuzzling into the crook of his neck while pressing kisses to the exposed, warm skin. James sighed, arm tightening around your form, squeezing you to him.

“Morning.” It was a soft murmur spoken against your temple, the syllables slurred and heavy with sleep. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone. James responded with a kiss to your temple, then resting his cheek against your head. The edge of his jaw dug into your scalp but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

His warmth cocooned you, lulling you into a half asleep state of being, malleable and limp in his arms.

“It’s snowing.” You blinked, pulling your head out of the safety of his neck to face him. A lazy grin was plastered on his face, doe eyes half lidded as he regarded you. Moments passed, eyes clearing as you continued to stare at him, body tingly with adoration.

“Mmm. I know. Checked the weather last night.” He huffed dramatically, rolling over and pulling you with him.

You yelped as the blankets shifted, exposing slivers of your right side to the freezing air. Goosebumps lined your flesh, biting as James chuckled beneath you.

“You’re evil, James Potter.” He reached around you and righted the blankets, patting them down to make sure you were completely covered.

“Me? Evil? Never.” You huffed and laid your head on his chest, staring out the window to gaze at snow covered evergreens. The two of you stayed there, suspended in the quiet, limbs tangled together as the seconds turned to minutes.

Your eyelids fluttered shut.

By the time you woke up again, it was to the sound of a kettle whistling. You whined a little as you emerged from your warm cocoon, reaching to slip on a pair of thick wool socks and padding through the house. A fresh start, James had said, after everything. Neither of you wanted to stay in his late parents’ house, but you didn’t want anything big to look after either. A small cottage in the countryside was perfect.

He caught sight of you as you entered the kitchen, all messy hair and haphazard clothing. You smiled as he offered you a mug of coffee with a fond expression, pouring tea for himself. He set the kettle down on an unused eye. Wrapping your hands around the warm mug, you leaned against the kitchen counter and cast an apprehensive look towards the garlands.

“Think we’ll be able to handle that today?”

James saddled up to your side, one arm slung around your hips. Even out of bed, he radiated heat. You leaned into him.

“Shouldn’t be too hard, yeah? We’ll make quick work of it.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“If not, I’ll just get Padfoot and Moony to do it.”

i’m trying to keep these short because otherwise i put off doing them

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era

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andersholmvikbootysex · 4 months

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So I made this post on Tiktok the other day, and I wanted to elaborate on the story behind it.

To begin, I see Alan’s facial expression as a sort of bittersweet sentiment. The first episode shows that he and Charlie have some sort of bond, and are able to interact with each other closely because of it.

As the show progresses, we see less and less of this relationship, which could likely be the product of a lack of connection between them, one replaced by Charpim. I feel that up until the show began, they were a closeknit pair, separating themselves from Charlie’s similarly close bond with Pim.

A replaced relationship could explain why Alan rarely ever interferes with Charlie and Pim’s daily interactions, save when he’s making sure they don’t hurt themselves or die (i.e. when he stopped Pim from eating more of his compost worms).

However, in the Brazil episode, we get another albeit thin slice of their relationship when Alan jokes about calling Christ the Redeemer the “Big Jesus”. Alas, as most interactions between them go, this quickly fades and fails to be mirrored later on, as they don’t seem to speak directly for the rest of the episode.

Likewise, through Alan’s remark of “I just see it as the Big Jesus”, distress and an air of awkwardness related to interacting with Charlie bleeds through. He’s grappling on for dear life at any chance of reconciling that closeness he once had, and doesn’t know how to handle an unexpected chance at that happening.

On to my main point.

I’ve established that Charlie and Alan had some kind of relationship near the beginning of the series that gradually thinned out, hence a lack of interaction between them throughout the rest of the show, and that this bond was displaced by Charpim.

Though Alan seems to be a non-emotional type—until it comes to his favorite food and getting a job done—this could easily be a facade he wears to push others away, or the result of a knot of hurt in his heart after the dissipating of he and Charlie’s relationship. This can unveil the reason he hooks up with random women and why he feels so uncomfortable acknowledging it after the fact: he does it to briefly get Charlie, and what could have been of them, off his mind.

This is a scant piece of evidence for Alan’s yearning, but who knows what he’s doing and what he’s feeling when he’s off screen, not put off by an exceedingly heavy task?

Back to the point of his pining for Charlie, he does have a bit of time to recover from the loss of their bonding; the show goes through Halloween, Christmas, and Mardi Gras, with the latter two being less than two months apart. This excludes the time before the holiday specials. For the sake of the argument, let’s consider that the passage of time, distractions, and facade allow Alan to heal somewhat.

Due to his time spent at Smiling Friends Inc. during the Charpim boom, he must be used to seeing Charlie and Pim’s relations ceaselessly, from the tightest of conversations to the standard friendly interactions. It’s never anything new.

The kiss, however, is out of the ordinary for them—especially in the presence of others. This is the first time we’ve seen them interact in such a way, and it happened to occur when Alan was watching.

It’s not difficult to infer that, because of that and the romantic connotation that comes with kissing, the interaction clearly struck a cord for our rosy friend. As mentioned previously, because of Alan’s adaption to Charpim interplay, it’s not a strong enough relation to strike one hard.

Regardless, he holds on to that retired bond he had with Charlie just enough to show visible bitterness after the fact. It’s a glance of jealousy and reminiscence rather than disgust or hate.

#This is dumb #smiling friends #also sorry if my writing is bad or confusing #charlie dompler #alan smiling friends #charlan #rant #long post

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xie-xan · 9 months

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Under the mistletoe

Pairings: Neuvillette x gn!reader

warnings: nothing, just pure fluff

Furina decided to throw a Christmas party for everyone in Fontaine and it was being held in the opera house. Everyone was of course having fun.

Neuvillette felt a tad bit overwhelmed by all the partying, Don't get him wrong, he enjoys seeing the people of Fontaine having fun and enjoying themselves but he needed some privacy.

And so he decided to sit in his office as he drank the dark hot chocolate made by the melusines themselves. He wasn't particularly a fan of sweets but since the melusines spent their time making the drink, he couldn't say no. It was dark chocolate anyway so it wasn't too sweet.

He sat there in silence allowing himself to relax in the warm and quiet atmosphere. There was a sudden knock on the door which snapped him away from his trace.

"Monseiur neuvillette?"

A soft muffled voice called.

He set the cup of hot chocolate down on his desk stood up and walked towards the door and opened it.

He opened the door and saw (Y/n) standing there, in their hands was a small gift wrapped in a blue ribbon. He and (Y/n) were close as they would sometimes help them with paperwork, (Y/n) was also the person to whom his heart belonged but they don't know it yet.

"Ah, Greetings, please come in, It is cold outside," he said opening the door to let them in.

(Y/n) entered the office and Neuvillette closed the door behind them. His office was very warm and comfy.

"What brings you here?" he asked once he closed the door and fully faced them. "Ah, I wanted to give you this" (Y/n) said with a soft smile as they handed him the present.

Even by the small gesture, it was enough to make his heart flutter as his eyes softened a bit and he smiled ever so slightly, truly a rare expression to see on his face. An expression that he's only willing to show them and not anyone else. (also the melusines)

His hands brushed with theirs and it was enough to bring warmth to his cheeks with the small contact he muttered a small "thank you" with his cheeks tinted pink (which looked adorable)

(Y/n)s eyes wandered around the office when they looked up and saw a beautiful mistletoe hanging on his office door where the two of them stood.

Neuvillette followed their gaze and saw the mistletoe as well as she cleared his throat "I wonder who put that there…"

"It must have been one of the melusinses" (Y/n) said with a light chuckle that warmed his heart. "Do you know the story behind it?" they asked.

Neuvillette thought for a second "Oh, you speak of the Christmas mistletoe, it's quite a popular tale around Fontaine especially during the Christmas season" he spoke as if his heart wasn't beating so loudly through his chest, he even started to wonder if you could hear it.

"Do you believe in it?" (Y/n) asked. "Not particularly, it seems like a silly tale in my opinion" he muttered as he admired the way (Y/n) looked.

They wore a scarf that was wrapped comfortably around their neck preventing them from getting cold, their nose were a bit red and puffy due to the cold weather outside, and their figure was illuminated by the warm light of the fireplace near them.

They let out a soft chuckle at his response.

"You're right, but yet again.." (Y/n) trailed off

"Bad luck does sound rather troublesome.."

"Let's not be cursed by bad luck then."

"As you wish, ma chérie…"

(A/n) Happy holidays everyone! I'm currently working on a short venti x reader series that will probably be posted next week or earlier^^

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x you #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #christmas special

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a-yellow-van · 5 months

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Wish You Were Here | Part 2

The aftermath of the previous evening.

Series masterlist

Pairing : Joel Miller x f!reader

Fanfic tags : canon compliant, slow burn, romance, eventual smut, angst, hurt/comfort, joel and the reader are terrible at feelings, female reader, no use of y/n, reader is in early 30s, past relationships, trauma/PTSD, grief, loss, post-apocalypse, jackson joel, joel is a good parent to ellie, major character death, original characters, queer characters, bisexual main character, age difference, canon-typical violence

WC for part 2 : 5.9 k

Warnings for part 2 : swearing, implied sexual content

(I had this one already written, currently working on part 3 so it'll take me a bit of time before uploading again)

You’re jolted awake, face contorted in a silent scream, dry tears stinging your cheeks, fists clenching the sheets, heart beating at a wild pace. The last remnants of a nightmare fade away, leaving a shot ringing in your ears, as you try to focus on your surroundings. You’re here, in your bedroom, in your house, in Jackson. You’re safe. You breathe, slowly, in and out. Everything is fine. Everything is-

Images from last night flash before your eyes. Joel, laughing with you. His hands on your waist. His lips on yours. The desire. His rage. And the abandon.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

A wave of shame, along with nausea, hits you like a freight train. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry, an awful taste lingering in it. You gag, leap out of bed and run to the bathroom just in time.

When you’re done, you rinse your mouth and meet your reflection. Bloodshot eyes, heavy bags underneath them, knotted hair sticking out around a sickly pale face. You left the tavern without telling anyone and immediately collapsed into bed. Yesterday’s clothes, that you’re still wearing, smell like booze and sweat and something else too- or rather someone else. You shut your eyes and rub them with closed fists, applying so much pressure it hurts. You want to bash your face in the mirror.

God you’re a wreck.

You decide brushing your teeth and taking a shower is the best course of action right now. Your watch indicates it’s well past noon and there’s no way you can get back to sleep. Not with those thoughts swimming around your head. The scalding water does little to distract you from them. You scrub your skin raw, as if you can wash away Joel’s touch; it doesn’t work. You still feel him against you when you step out of the bathtub. You’re thinking about the kiss as you get dressed, as you run a comb through your wet hair, as you walk down to your kitchen, and as you put on the kettle for tea. Why can’t you stop thinking about it? And why the hell is part of you wishing that it went further? The kettle whistling shakes you out of the spiral. You wish you had a stronger beverage, that and a painkiller, but they’re rare supplies these days. You fill a mug with the tea and try sitting at your small kitchen island, but it quickly becomes claustrophobic, as though the walls are closing in on you. So you get up and grab a rainbow wool blanket, knitted by Astrid as a Christmas present, from the couch. Wrapping yourself in it, you go out to your back porch and sprawl on one of the lawn chairs, the bitter January air stinging your lungs, shocking you into alertness. The pain is refreshing.

What a fucking way to start the year.

You look out at the frosted mountains in the distance, peaceful giants protecting the town. They’re strong, grounded, indomitable. You think it’d be nice to float up to the top and lay there above the clouds, where what is happening down below wouldn’t matter at all. You take a sip of tea, which burns your tongue, and you curse under your breath. It brings you right back to reality. On the yard right of yours, the neighbour’s kids are playing in the snow, their high-pitched giggles filling the air. The girl, about seven years old, notices you and stops to call out your name. You give her a small wave back.

“Happy new year!” She yells enthusiastically, flashing the gap of fallen front teeth. Her younger brother imitates her but stumbles on half of the words. Their little faces are flushed, snowsuits soaking wet. You can’t help but find it adorable, even in your condition. It never ceases to impress you how resilient children can be, how they can keep their wonder, their innocence when the world has crumbled around them.

“Happy new year. Don’t get frostbite,” you reply.

“Look at our snowman!” the boy chips in, his lisp evident, pointing at a shapeless mount of snow.

You chuckle. “He’s cool. You should add a carrot.”

The kids beam, and run off inside to act upon your suggestion. And then a snowball flies out of nowhere and hits you on the shoulder, almost causing you to drop your tea. You shriek, jumping to your feet and putting the mug down on the railing as another snowball misses your head by a hair’s breadth. Max’s figure appears from behind a thick pine tree growing right outside your fence.

“HEY! WHAT THE F-” you catch yourself, remembering there are children closeby. Max steps fully into view, guffawing, their bright red beanie clashing with the ginger locks peaking out. They walk to the side and push the fence door open, entering your backyard.

“Moron.” There is no humour in your voice. You brush the snow off your clothes, muttering to yourself. Max walks up the old wooden stairs and joins you on the porch.

“Really? Not even a hi, how are you, happy new year?” They raise a hand to their chest in mock offence.

“You didn’t give me time for that did you? Nearly took my fucking head off.” You cross your arms tightly. You’re really not in the mood for Max’s antics. Not today.

“Jesus, so dramatic,” they sit down on the other lawn chair, while you remain standing. “Woke up on the wrong foot?”

Anger bubbles up inside, as does the urge to punch that smug little grin off Max’s face. “What are you doing here?” You ask, bluntly.

“Hm. Not much. Just, uh, checking in on you,” Max replies, purposefully evasive. The anger rises.

“Why?” You bark, already knowing the answer to that question.

“Well…Just heard you got into, uh, an interesting situation last night.” They look up at you with that smirk again. You glare back, fuming, and grunt in response.

God they can be such a fucking pain in the ass.

“So I’m just wondering what it is exactly that made you think oh, yeah,” they suspend their voice for a few seconds “Joel Miller?” They accentuate his name as if it were an insult, full of implication.

You’re trying to keep calm, but it’s getting very difficult. You choose your words carefully. “I was drunk. We were just talking. And it’s none of your business” Your voice trembles with the emotion.

“Just talking, uh?” Max is clinging on to this stronger than a dying man to his last breath.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but nothing happened,” you lie, through gritted teeth. You’re dangerously close to your tipping point.

“Hm. That’s weird, `cause Astrid told us she saw a lot more than-”

“Can you fucking drop it?” you shout. Max has done it.

They're taken aback by your outburst, pausing for a beat, before their expression hardens. They inhale sharply and speak up again, brows furrowed in frustration.

“You know, I’m getting sick of this closed up bullshit. We’ve been friends for what, 5 years, and you never tell me a single thing about how you’re feeling, or your past, or-“

“We’re not friends,” you interrupt them, harshly.

“Oh, okay, yeah, sure!” Their tone drips with sarcasm. “Then what are we?”

The question makes you hesitate. “I don’t know. Coworkers,” you say, your tone losing conviction.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Max exclaims. “Are you serious? So you’re telling me you- you came to your coworker’s house in the middle of the night after having a breakdown?

Your chest tightens at the memory. It’s a moment of weakness you really hate to be reminded of. “That’s not fair. It was a long time ago,” you grumble, looking down.

“Uh-huh,” Max continues, raising their voice. “You supported your coworker when they came out to you?” They wait, expecting you to interject, but you keep quiet, so they take it up a notch. “You helped your coworker when they were starving, bleeding out, half-frozen to death? That’s what you’re telling me?”

You still don’t respond, but the anger is starting to melt; Max’s words are stabbing at a sensitive spot. You’re brought back in time, to one of your first ever patrols, in the dead of winter, when you were still training. You had gone off the trail because you thought you heard a faint plea for help. That’s when you had found Max, curled up in the hollow of a tree, skeletally thin, shivering, the snow stained red from a fresh wound on their leg. You had brought them back to Jackson, had strongly insisted to Maria that they stay in town, took Max’s defence when other survivors argued they were a lost cause. You’d checked in on them nearly every day, and you were right; Max had made a complete recovery, eventually growing into an active, important member of the community. At the time, you didn’t know why you were doing all of this for a stranger. Maybe you just couldn’t bear losing anyone else, couldn’t take being powerless, unable to save them.

Max lets a few seconds pass by in silence. “Look, all I’m saying is I care about you. And I got worried when you left last night. It wasn’t like you” they explain, softer now, the concern honest. You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at them as the anger vanishes completely. Truth is, you care about them too. A lot. Of course you do. And you’re mainly upset at yourself for acting in such a senseless way last night. But admitting all of that out loud, it’d be too much. Instead, you give Max a meaningful nod, and squeeze their arm.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m okay. Just- I- I’m hungover.” There’s way more than that, and Max is well aware. But they don’t push further.

“Lightweight,” they tease, lightening the tension. You’re grateful for the change in mood.

“And you’re not? I think you burst the entire town’s eardrums last night,” you respond, relieved to fall back into the usual back-and-forth.

“Uh, I’ll have you know I’m proud of that performance,” they argue.

“I’ll give it to you. Wasn’t your worst,” you reply, feeling a smile pulling at your lips. Max gives you one back.

“Alright, can we go inside now? Fucking freezing” Max asks, rubbing their arms up and down.

“Yeah,” you answer, “want some breakfast?” It’s really the least you could do. Actions are much easier than words to show that you care.

“Would love some lunch.” They correct, as you slide open the glass door and let them pass first, following them in.

“Seriously though, Joel Miller?” they add, peering at you over their shoulder. You push them into the dining room.

“Mention it again and I’m hitting you,” you threaten, half-serious.

“Alright, alright,” Max concedes. “I just didn’t know you were into old men.” They snicker. You keep to your word and kick their ankle.

They squeal out in pain and you strike a second time. “I’m. Not.”

Max sits at the dining room table, massaging their hurt leg, while you scramble some eggs for the both of you. Along with some sourdough from Leanne at the bakery, it makes a decent meal. And, as you eat, you come to a conclusion. That thing with Joel, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It can’t mean anything. Because you’re not ready to accept the possibility that there might be something more. Something like feelings that you’d need to process. You’ve taken too long to build a thick, impenetrable shield around your heart. You can’t just drop it so quickly. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgement caused by the alcohol. You’re going to lock it away in a forgotten corner of your mind, like you usually do when emotions are involved. Just pretend it never happened, stay cordial with the man if ever have to interact again. It should be easy enough.

Right?

——————————

Joel is cruelly pulled out of sleep by a series of booming knocks. He sits up abruptly, in a panic, instinctively reaching at his side for a weapon but his fingers grasp only the pilled fabric of bed sheets. It takes a moment to situate himself, to remember he is out of danger. Whoever’s behind the noise doesn’t give him reprieve to slow down his pulse, however. Another round of knocks erupts as a muffled, irritated voice travels up to his bedroom.

“JOEL! HELLO? JOEELLLLL! WAKE UP!” It’s unmistakably Ellie.

The kid can be so damn loud for her size. Joel grumbles a string of curses, hurries out of bed and down the stairs despite strained muscles and the beginning of a migraine he’s certain will be terrible. He’s too old for hangovers like this. He jogs through the hallway, gets to the back door and flings it open before Ellie pipes up again. She’s standing on the porch, bundled up in her purple puffer jacket. Her balled fists are suspended in the air, mid-movement.

“WHAT?” He yells, making Ellie flinch. He immediately regrets his tone.

“Shit, no need to be rude,” the girl replies, arms dropping to her sides.

“Sorry, kid. You almost gave me a heart attack,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

She gets straight to the point. “My heating’s busted. Can you fix it?”

Joel scoffs. “Good morning, Ellie! Happy new year to you too.”

“Uh, it’s almost 1 PM. And I didn’t think you celebrated,” Ellie answers matter-of-factly.

Little smartass.

Joel makes the motion to close the door in her face, but she’s faster and grabs the outer handle.

“Hey come on! It’s like 2 degrees in there!” She shouts.

Ellie stares up at him, impatient. Joel doesn’t budge. She sighs. “Please,” she mumbles, breaking eye contact.

Joel smirks. It’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He keeps her hanging for another few seconds before answering : “Okay.”

Ellie rolls her eyes.

“I still got Tommy’s tools. Can you wait 10 minutes?” He’s just giving Ellie a hard time, and she knows it. He’d do anything to help her, no matter what it entailed; he’s done a hell of a lot more than repair a broken heater.

“Yeah, sure, just drill me out of the block of ice,” Ellie says, spinning on her heels and walking off towards the garage that's been converted into her living quarters.

Joel smiles, watching her go. He gets back into the house and does his best to clean up in the bathroom while avoiding looking in the mirror. He still feels like he’s been run over by a truck, and sleeping the day off is very inviting, but he can’t just let the girl freeze. And the work will keep him busy, distract him from the pain. He puts on a coat over the clothes that he slept in, the same ones he was wearing at the tavern; he hadn’t bothered changing out of them after coming home. He ties his boots with difficulty and grabs the toolbox from a storage shelf in the utility room. He borrowed it from Tommy a few weeks ago when the upstairs bathroom nearly flooded, and hasn’t returned it yet. He makes a mental note of it. Joel’s house is a fixer upper for sure, but he’s done his best over the last six months, and it’s starting to become less of a temporary shelter and more of a home, something he never would have thought possible. Ellie’s presence at such a short distance definitely plays a role. He’s not hurt by the fact she insisted on having her separate space; he doesn’t think they’d have done well trying to fit into a normal family dynamic. That’s not what they are. And besides, he’s just happy she’s still talking to him, after what happened at the hospital. Joel brushes off the thought as he crosses the back garden, counting the steps it takes to reach the garage. There’s exactly thirteen. As always.

He lets himself in. Ellie’s waiting, laying on the loveseat wrapped in her duvet. She wasn’t lying; it’s glacial inside and Joel can see his breath. Ellie’s lit a fire in the wood stove, resourceful as she is, but it’s not doing much.

“Took you long enough,” she says, barely audible as half her face is covered by the blanket.

“Hey. Drop the attitude.” Joel orders, but a little smile curves up his lips. Ellie returns it. He can’t stay mad at her and she’s proud of it.

Joel looks around the room. Ellie’s bed is unmade, stripped of its cover; clothes are piling on a chair, random objects scattered around her desk, from coloured pencils to a used plate and utensils. Her guitar is held up by a sturdy stand in a corner, pristine; it’s apparent Ellie takes good care of it. And there, on the coffee table, a good amount of crumbs, and four empty bottles of beer. His gaze lingers on them long enough for Ellie to notice.

“Um, Cat came over last night she brought those, her mom was totally okay with it-” Ellie overexplains, the words coming out quickly.

Joel raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t say anythin’.” He likes that she gets anxious, it shows that she cares about his opinion, and doesn't want him to be disappointed. But how could he be? He’d do much worse than drinking a beer or two if he’d gone through as much as Ellie has at her age. “What’d you guys get up to?” Joel asks as he moves towards the space heater, plugged in a wall outlet not far from the loveseat. Ellie relaxes.

“Uh, we just watched a movie. Back to the Future,” she replies. Joel smiles. He’d found it out on a run and gave it to Ellie as a Christmas present. “Cat had such a crush on Marty. It was pretty funny,” the girl adds.

“And you didn’t?” He teases as he kneels in front of the heater, his back screaming in agony, and sets the toolbox down on the cold cement floor.

“Nah. Not my type.” Ellie shifts in her seat to get a good view of Joel. He starts by trying the power switch, to no avail. “I already did that,” she tells him in a condescending tone.

“Yeah, no shit,” Joel mutters. He takes out a screwdriver and finds the appropriate bit before starting to work on taking the heater apart. He opens up the electrical box and begins testing out the various components, face drawn out in concentration. Ellie observes him quietly for a few minutes, chewing on a nail. Joel’s completely focused on the pieces he’s turning over in his hands.

And then, he hears Ellie’s voice behind him again. “So. You were out pretty late last night,” she points out.

Joel freezes up, caught off guard. The tool he’s holding drops to the ground, clattering.

Last night. Fucking Hell.

Glimpses of the drunken evening assault his brain. Bribes of your conversation, how natural it felt talking to you. The sound of your laughter. How your eyes lit up when you smiled. The blushes you tried to hide. Your hands on his shoulders.

How smooth your lips were.

Wait.

The way the night ended suddenly comes back. A rush of anger, shame, and guilt engulfs him, the same one that pushed him to abandon you about ten hours ago. He has to stop himself from screaming, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut. Why the fuck did he do that? How could he let you get so close? When did he get so weak as to let his walls down that much the second a pretty woman talks to him? And why did it feel so damn good?

Joel fights to somewhat regain his composure, to act casual as he replies to Ellie. He clears his throat and picks the tool back up. “Uh, yeah. Just out at the tavern with Tommy,” he deflects.

“Hm.” Ellie pauses, letting Joel think she’s off the scent. But then, she questions : “Just Tommy?”

Nervosity is added to the boiling pot of emotions, lighting up the wick of a bomb Joel’s trying his hardest not to let explode.

What does the kid know?

He struggles to recall another memory. Your friend, the tall blonde one who’s another patroller, she saw you too together. Not what happened outside, but enough to raise suspicion, Joel’s ninety-nine percent certain of it.

He breathes slowly before answering. “Yup.” He attempts to be firm, but he can hear the hesitation in his own voice. So he busies himself with the heater again.

“Well,” Ellie starts, but Joel cuts her off, not taking any chances.

“Didn’t you have farm duty today?” He changes the subject abruptly, pulling at a wire.

“Uh, yeah, I went already. They let me off early,” Ellie says, “I heard something interesting though.” Joel can practically see the smirk on her face from where he is crouched, but he refuses to look her in the eyes.

Damn it.

He stays silent. Ellie continues. “You were…dancing? With someone?” She adds your name, inquiring.

Joel tightens his grip on the tool handle, knuckles turning white. “You don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” he utters. “We weren’t dancing.” He keeps his gaze stubbornly stuck to the heater.

Ellie holds back a laugh. “But you were with her?” She keeps up the interrogation.

The wick of the bomb burns more. “Just havin’ a conversation. With a coworker. I don’t know who told you that, but it ain’t true,” he replies harshly.

Ellie snorts. “Uh-huh. Okay. That’s-”

“Ellie. Stop.” Joel threatens, finally snapping his head up to glare at the girl. And the expression is enough to make her understand he isn’t joking. She listens to the command and shuts right up, however, she doesn’t lose the mocking grin.

He huffs, returning to the task. He’s mulling over everything in his head, beating himself up to a pulp, when Ellie decides to pick up her guitar. She begins practising Future Days, the song Joel has been teaching her. The notes are unsteady, the rhythm choppy, but the music is like a balm over Joel’s mind, soothing it. It helps him calm down, and soon enough, he finds the source of the heater’s malfunction : the fan is clogged with dust and debris. He dislodges it from the mechanism and cleans it out with a rag, whistling along to Ellie’s playing. He puts the pieces back together and wipes his hands on his jeans, before trying the power switch once more. The heater hums into life.

Ellie breathes a sigh of relief and puts down the guitar. “Oh fuck yeah.”

“Language,” Joel reprimands her. Ellie sticks out her tongue at him. He puts away the tools he’s used and stands up with the toolbox, knees creaking.

“Hey, thanks, Joel,” the girl says timidly, taking off the layers she’d put on, “and, uh, sorry I woke you up.” She’s genuine.

“It’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.” He awkwardly claps his free hand on his thigh, unsure if he should stay longer. He’d like to, but he doesn’t want to impose, or make it weird.

“You should go shower. You look like shit,” Ellie quips. “And we got dinner with Maria and Tommy later,” she adds.

“Hmm. Right,” he groans; he’d completely forgotten. He’s never wanted to do anything less in his life. The day just keeps getting better.

He follows Ellie’s advice once he’s back inside his house. As the hot water runs over his tired skin, he takes time to reflect, and he makes a decision. The encounter with you was simply a product of intoxication. The old, rusted feelings it stirred up within him were, too. It’s just been very long since he’s done anything…intimate. With anyone. That must explain it. He’s got to convince himself of that. Because the other alternative terrifies him, fills him with dread, and he can’t afford that. Not again. Not after Tess. So, he’s going to ignore it, push it away, bury it deep at the back of his mind, enough that it can’t affect him anymore. Just pretend it never happened, go back to the way he treated you before. Cold. Indifferent. He’s done that countless times.

Right.

It should be easy enough.

——————————

It has been two weeks. Two weeks that you’ve succeeded in avoiding Joel at all costs, and the weather has definitely helped. Winter has been ruthless, the temperature dropping below zero most mornings, the snowfall almost incessant, isolating the town. It’s mostly a positive; it prevents infected, or hunters, or worse, from discovering it. Survivors have been staying in as much as possible, going out only when absolutely necessary. You did your part with helping plough the snow on your horse, a dapple grey mare named Willow; Maria had assigned time slots to the capable survivors. Thankfully, you and Joel weren’t scheduled on the same one. You haven’t crossed paths with the man since New Year’s Eve, and you’re perfectly content with that.

Well, that isn’t the full truth. There’s a part of you that incomprehensibly wishes you could see him again. You absolutely despise it, and you’ve made an immense effort to silence those thoughts when they seize you. But they come often. Too often. You’ve thrown yourself into tasks, hobbies, anything to occupy your mind. Needless to say, your house has been extremely tidy lately, you’ve listened through your record collection multiple times, finished the novel you were reading (The Count of Monte Cristo which you had previously barely made a dent it), and started on at least three paintings which you hated and scrapped, and you’re not one to waste supplies. If the thoughts are hard to control during the day, it becomes impossible at night.

You’ve…dreamed about Joel. Doing things to you that you wouldn’t dare say out loud, to anyone, your inner thighs moist upon waking up. You think you might be going completely insane. So, you’re almost excited for your upcoming patrol, and the extended distraction it’ll provide.

It’s the evening of Sunday, January 14th, 2035. The sky is clear for once, the sun has started setting behind the mountains, casting Jackson in frigid twilight. You’re speed walking towards town hall, the icy wind piercing right through your coat, chilling you to the bone. Your scarf is pulled up to your nose, the flaps of your trapper hat down and tied, thick mittens protecting your hands. You reach the building in record time, its short clock tower illuminated. You pull the heavy door and get in, a gust of warmth from the heating blasted at maximum immediately relieving. The room is spacious, cosy, with a stone hearth at the back where a fire is crackling, chairs stacked in a corner, and a long table with a tall thermos of chicory coffee and some cups strewn about. You go up to the large rolling bulletin board standing in the middle of the room, where various organisational documents for the community are pinned. A handful of survivors are already gathered around it. One of them, a teenager with a long black braid, olive skin and sharp features (Tina? Or something similar), is adding a flyer to it, advertising her services to shovel pathways for trade. Brave move. You greet the group and look over to the patroller’s duty roster for the week. You’ve set for Hoback Pass, tomorrow, with Astrid. You spot Joel’s name on the list; he’s with Tommy, as usual, for Teton Village, at the end of the week. No chance of overlap.

Good. Great. Wonderful.

You don’t stay around much longer; you need to prepare for the next day’s run. Astrid likes to get an early start, and she’ll want to plan strict routes before leaving. You’ve forgiven her for snitching on what she saw you do at New Year’s Eve; she was drunk too, and she hasn’t mentioned it since. Max must have convinced her she hallucinated it, for your sake. So you go back out into the cold, empty streets, now plunged in darkness.

You met Astrid when she arrived in Jackson around three years ago, along with Fred. The two are like siblings; after the outbreak, they were raised in a small settlement in the Eastern Idaho forest. The group had left camp when resources were becoming scarce, travelling south in hopes of finding a new safe haven. Upon reaching Jackson, the two women were the only ones left alive. You don’t know the exact circumstances in which they lost their loved ones, but the reality is all too familiar to most people in this world. At least these two still have each other. You weren’t so lucky with that. Sometimes, when you look at them, you can’t help but get a glimpse of a future you were cruelly robbed of. In these instances, you’re hit with a burning, gut-wrenching pang of jealousy. You try not to dwell on it; it’s a useless sentiment and it’s impossible to get her back.

You jog up to your house a few minutes later. After a quick dinner, you put together your pack, checking items off a mental list: canteen, munitions, a few rations, first aid kit, flint rod, rope, hand-crank radio… You’re sharpening your knife, sitting at the dining room table, when you’re interrupted by a knock. You cross the hallway, puzzled, and undo the chain to crack open the front door. Tommy’s standing on the other side, bouncing on the spot, rapid breaths coming out in white volutes.

“Uh, hey,” you say, surprised to see him there.

“Hey,” he replies, “sorry to bother you this late.”

“Oh, it’s fine. What’s up?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You’ve known Tommy ever since you first came to Jackson. He’s the patrol chief; the one who teached you at your beginnings on the job. You like him as a leader; he’s fair, direct, dependable, and he’s got a sense of humour. He’s a good balance to Maria, who can be a bit too stern at times.

“Uh, well, it’s about your patrol tomorrow. I know you’re supposed to go with Astrid, but I’m gonna have to send her to train Jesse instead,” he explains, talking fast.

Jesse is the newest recruit. He’s a determined, strong young man who joined in late November, just as he turned eighteen, the required age for patrolling. He’s gone out with Astrid on practice runs a couple times before; she had volunteered to mentor him.

You furrow your brows. “Oh. Alright, sure, that’s okay. Uh, you want me to go by myself?”

“Uh, no” Tommy answers,“too risky with all the snow. I was gonna send Joel. You guys work well together and he knows Hoback.”

Your stomach drops.

Fuck.

Your expression must have changed noticeably, because Tommy tilts his head, perplexed.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He inquires.

You blink a few times, recovering from the blow. “Uh, yeah. I- I mean no. Just-” you search for the right words, “can’t Astrid do it another day?”

“Not really. We need Jesse ready ASAP. Why? Problem with Joel?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

You pause, wondering whether to tell him the truth. Ultimately, you decide it would just create a bigger problem. “No, no, nevermind. All good,” you lie, averting Tommy’s eyes.

The man doesn’t seem convinced. “Alright… You know, it’s funny. Joel didn’t seem too happy either when I told ´im.”

So he’s been thinking about you too. He remembers. This makes it so much worse. You give a nervous chuckle in response, and attempt a joke. “Is he ever?”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, you ain’t wrong.” He claps his gloved hands together. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning for briefing then.”

You give him a nod and he imitates you before walking off. You close the door behind him and rest your forehead against the hard surface, banging it a few times. You yell out in frustration. What did you just get yourself into?

That night, you restlessly lay in bed, tossing and turning, your mind racing, agitated, unable to shut itself off. You don’t get any sleep.

Joel doesn’t either.

You’re already exhausted by the time you’re out of the door the next morning, right at sunrise, which just intensifies your terrible mood. You stride down the street towards Jackson’s main gate, in full winter gear, pack hanging off a shoulder. The town is a muted grey, misty; a few snowflakes are slowly falling from heavy clouds. It matches your emotional state. You’re hoping to be the first one at the stables, giving you time to blow off some steam. But, upon arrival, you discover that the object of your torment has had the same idea. Joel’s saddling his horse, Old Beardy, an imposing black-coated male.

The bastard.

You curse him out in your head, your heartbeat quickening as you approach. You walk past him, heading towards Willow’s enclosure. Neither you nor Joel acknowledges the other. Willow neighs softly when she sees you, and you go to pet her on the nose, hyper aware of the man standing about twenty feet away from you. You quietly tend to your horse for a few minutes, every sound coming from Joel irritating you, before you finally dare steal a glance over at him. Right as you do so, he turns his head back quickly, caught in the act.

So that’s how it’s gonna go, huh?

You tie your pack to a hook on Willow’s saddle, your movements sharp, heated. Once you’re done, you take the horse’s reins and guide her out of the stable, passing by Joel once again; his back tenses as you do so, and you hear him sigh loudly. The feeling’s mutual.

You decide to take Willow for a trot around town while you wait for the other patrollers to show up. You don’t think you could stay there with Joel, in thick silence, pointlessly wondering what it is he’s thinking; it would drive you mad. You come back half an hour later, not an ounce more calm, as Tommy is about to start his report. You make sure to stand as far away from Joel as you can while you listen. The words enter one ear and come out the other; you’re too preoccupied with someone else. You’ve heard the speech a hundred times anyway: stay within sight of your partner, follow the routes, mark the logbooks, come back if you run into something you can’t handle. Once Tommy’s done, he gives the signal for the two townsfolk on guard duty to crank open the gate. You stick your right foot in the stirrup and hoist yourself up on Willow’s back, positioning yourself on the saddle. You let the other patrol team go first, staying behind, immobile, side by side with Joel. You’re not going to make the first move. And he doesn’t either. So you look over at him, and this time, he holds your gaze, fire ablaze in his deep brown eyes. Glowering. Taunting. Scornful. After thirty seconds, Tommy, posted at the wall, yells out to you.

“Guys! What are you waitin’ for? Get goin’!”

Joel capitulates first. He urges Old Beardy forward, not giving you another sight, as you internally scream in victory. You follow behind.

“Have a good one! Stay safe!” One of the guards says, as you pass the threshold. You have to hold yourself back from replying “We won’t.” Joel and you ride out of Jackson.

This day is about to be really fucking unpleasant.

Next chapter

To read on AO3

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal

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heli-writes · 11 months

Text

Seven summers, part 3.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dearest y/n,

School's incredibly boring. The only fun thing going on is that tournament. I do love seeing Harry Potter struggle. He totally deserves to have to fight that dragon. He's cheated his way into this tournament anyway. Not that I'd like to join. No prize money and fame in the world is worth fighting a real-life dragon for.

Blaise is seeing that girl he went to the Yule Ball with. It's disgusting, really. They're always standing in the hallway making googly eyes at one another. Also, before you say it, I'm not jealous because they get to see each other and we don't. Plus, they're nothing like us. They haven't even kissed. They're probably like your archnemesis, that Becky girl. If they don't see each other over the summer holiday, they probably lose interest and break up before the new school year starts, too. Meanwhile, we rarely see each other and we're together just fine.

Talking about it, would it be possible for you to send me a picture? It's not like I have the desperate wish to look at you every day but the others don't believe me about having a girlfriend. They think I invented you because I don't want to come in second to Blaise. It's really ridiculous but it would probably shut them up.

In all honesty, though, I can't wait until summer comes along. Not seeing you has been a lot harder since Christmas. Summer just can't come fast enough.

Love, Draco

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifth summer, July.

Y/n can't wait to see Draco again. It's the first week of the summer holidays and the weather is fantastic. A few weeks ago, Draco and she agreed that y/n would come to visit him at his family's home. Y/n was a bit reluctant to agree because she feared that her little muggle secret would be blown if she stayed with a wizard's family. Luckily for her, Draco canceled just before school was over with little explanation why she couldn't come over anymore. Instead, Draco proposed to spend a weekend in Salisbury, a town a bit away from his parent's house. He promised to take care of accommodation since he had to cancel last minute.

Y/n probably should have a bad feeling about this. She lied to her parents and said she is visiting her school friend Olivia whose parents have a vacation home in Wiltshire. Y/n's parents know Olivia and her parents well since the two girls often spend time studying together for big tests, so they don't question the whole thing. All in all, y/n has always been a girl who followed the rules and never gave her parents a reason to mistrust her. Y/n tells herself that it's fine. She trusts Draco and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her or get her into trouble. It seems as if he himself is afraid to get into trouble with his father and therefore is careful about what he does or doesn't do. Plus, if the whole thing turns out to be a disaster, she just takes a train home.

Y/n takes a deep breath while she stands on the platform and waits for the train. There's a heavy feeling in her stomach that she can't shake off the entire way to Salisbury. When she gets off the train, she looks around unsettled. What if he didn't come? What if he had to cancel again last minute? Worried thoughts race through her head and she can barely register what she sees around herself. Suddenly, a hand grips her arm softly. "... y/n? Are you deaf?", a familiar voice says. Y/n is ripped out of her spiral and looks up to where Draco stands. "I've been calling you all the way from over there.", he tells her. Y/n takes a shaky, relieved breath before answering: "Oh, I'm sorry, I really didn't notice you." Draco gives her a soft smile, the kind of smile she's been missing since Christmas. "It's alright. I'm just glad you came. For a moment, I thought you didn't step out of the train.", he says as he pulls her into his arms. Y/n hugs him back and relief overtakes her. "I also thought you maybe didn't come.", she confesses. Draco leans his cheek against her hair. "Why that? I promised you I'd come. Actually, I'm really glad to get away from everything for a while.", he tells her. Y/n breaks the hug apart. "Oh? Did something happen? Is that why you needed to cancel meeting at your place?", she asks him. Draco shifts his weight uncomfortably. "Yeah, haven't you read it in the paper? There was an accident at the tournament.", he replies. "Oh.", is all that y/n manages to say. Somehow, she doesn't like the way he said 'accident'. Y/n shakes it off and gives his arm a pat. "Hey, it's summer! And we have a whole weekend to do whatever we want. Let's not dwell on dark things!", she tries to cheer him up. Draco gives her another smile and nods.

"Right, let's go! I'd say we get you settled first and then we plan our weekend over a good lunch.", he says and takes y/n's luggage. "Yeah, so where are we staying?", y/n asks him. "A family friend has an inn in town. We booked a room.", he tells her. "We? As in your parents and you?", y/n asks surprised. Somehow she finds it hard to believe that Draco's parents would allow him to go on a weekend trip with a girl they barely know. "Yes, though I didn't specify which friend I'm taking. My parents have been so busy the past few weeks, they didn't bother to ask.", he points out with a mischievous grin. Y/n giggles. Seems like Draco is not afraid to get a little bit in trouble. "Are your parents ok with this?", he asks her, and y/n proceeds to tell him about Olivia. "I don't think my parents would approve of me staying alone with a boy at an inn.", she ponders. "Well, we have two separate beds. There was no way I could've found a believable reason why I need a double bed with a friend.", Draco points out. Y/n has to laugh. "Oh, but you thought about it?", she asks him cheekily. Draco's ears turn a bit red.

When they stand in front of the 'inn', y/n asks herself if Draco was joking earlier and if this trip was really a good idea. They're standing in front of a rundown, seemingly deserted, house. "If there are ghosts, I'm not stepping inside of this place.", y/n tells Draco. Draco only nudges her and says: "Have a little faith, it's a great place.". He knocks on the door and loudly says "Clabbert". With an abrupt swing, the door opens and a small, very gloomy-looking old man opens the door. He musters the two of them up and down, seemingly disapproving. Y/n shudders. The man has long, unkempt hair and clothes that look like from three centuries ago. If she met this guy on the train, she'd definitely switch compartments. "Malfoy?", he asks in a grumbling voice. "Yes, my mother sent you an owl a few days ago.", Draco tells him. "Hm. And her? She smells like a muggle.", the man asks and gives y/n a mean glance. Y/n wonders what a muggle smells like, when Draco swiftly answers: "My cousin. We're visiting an aunt in town, but she doesn't have enough space for us.". Y/n's surprised at how effortless Draco can lie. The man grunts and retreats inside, leaving the door open. Draco gives y/n a sign to follow him.

Y/n really expects the worst when she enters the house. Naked walls, rubble, and a freezing breeze. However, when she enters the house, she is met with warm candlelights and old-fashioned but cozy decorations and carpets. The man leads the two of them up an old staircase. Draco tries to lift both his and y/n's luggage, but y/n quickly takes her own suitcase. The man hands Draco a key and points towards a door at the end of the hall. "Last one on the left. Breakfast is at 8:00 am sharp.", he just tells them and stomps down the staircase again. "Charming.", y/n comments dryly. "That's just old Goover. Don't bother with him.", Draco chuckles. "Goover? That's his real name?", y/n asks while they walk towards their room. "Dunno. That's just what my parents call him.", Draco shrugs. At the door, Draco starts fumbling with the key and tries to open the door. "And he's your parents' friend?", y/n asks surprised. Draco's father looked so sophisticated. It's hard for y/n to believe that he's friends with a guy like Goover. Draco manages to open the door and pushes it open. "Yeah... uh they used to be in this club together. Here we are! What do you think?", he quickly tries to change the topic.

Y/n enters the room. The room has the same old-fashioned style as the rest of the house. There's a fire burning in the fireplace, filling the room with a comfortable warmth that immediately makes her drowsy. "I take the bed close to the wall!", she announces and throws herself onto the bed. "Sure.", Draco says and settles onto the other. Y/n starts unpacking some things from her suitcase while Draco watches her.

Y/n rolls over to face Draco and she props her head on her hand and says: "So, what now? Lunch?“. Draco nods. "Yes, I know a good place. C'mon!“, he says and stands up. Y/n pushes herself from the bed and grabs her purse. "Let's go.“, she smiles.

Somehow y/n expected to choose a fancy restaurant with steak or filet. His family does not look like they eat the same way they dress, namely expensive. However, Draco takes her to a fish and chips shop that looks like it's been opened somewhere in the 70s. The smell of fryer oil hits them in the face upon entering. An elderly old, white couple stands behind the counter. "G'day my lady.“, says the man and gives y/n an overexaggerated bow and a toothy grin. "Och, George. Be a little bit more serious around our customers.“, his wife says and nudges him. Y/n takes an instant liking to the couple. They remind her of her grandparents who live in the Yorkshire Dales and have a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. They used to have a farm with sheep there but since they retired they gave away most of the animals. "We'd like some fish and chips, please.“, Draco says as he walks up to the counter. "Then you're at the right place, lad. You want some mashed peas, too?“, the man asks. "No, thank you. Y/n?“, Draco says as he turns to y/n. "Yes, please! And some vinegar, too!“, y/n cheers. They pay for their order and sit down to wait for the food.

"So, tell me about the accident at school. What happened?“, y/n asks Draco as they wait. Draco looks down at his hands and solemnly says: "A student died in the tournament.“. Y/n wished she'd be surprised but everything she heard about the school screamed deathtrap to her. Basiliks, soul-sucking creatures, dragons. Nothing of that screams 'safe' to her. The only thing she's surprised about is that this didn't happen earlier. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was he a friend?“, she says compassionately. Draco shakes his head. "No, I barely knew him. Was in a different house and all.“, he tells her. Y/n crooks her head in thought. Considering the fact that he didn't know the guy, the whole thing left Draco pretty shaken, y/n thinks. She also notices how he doesn't really want to talk about it, so she quickly changes the topic. "How were your finals? I feel like I could've done better.“, she tells him. Draco gladly accepts the topic change and starts talking about his own exams. "The finals were terrible! I mean the results were fine but I just hate the exam days.“, he complains. Y/n nods in agreement, happy that they found a common topic. "Yes, they're just so stressful. It's like how am I supposed to write three exams in one day? My head is already smoking after the first one!“, she adds. "True. Which subject did you find the worst this year?“, Draco asks her. Y/n hesitates for a moment. She knows that they have completely different subjects at Draco's school. Witchy subjects. Does she lie now yet again or does she tell him the truth? She decides on the latter. "Algebra. It's my worst result. I was truly desperate when I saw the exam.“, she tells him truthfully. Draco frowns and gives her a confused look. "My school teaches muggle subjects.“, y/n tries to explain. "Why would they do that?“, he asks. Y/n has to think about that for a moment. "Well, muggle subjects are about real-world stuff, so it makes sense to learn about that too, you know?“, she tries to argue. "Real-world stuff? You consider the muggle world real but the wizarding world not?“, Draco asks her confused. Y/n shifts in her seat uncomfortably. Yes, it's exactly like that. She lives in the muggle world, her reality, and the wizarding world may be real but it is just some far-away fairytale world for her. However, that's not something she can tell Draco. Suddenly, she feels very hot and she can feel some sweat rolling down her neck. "I just mean the muggle world is as real as the wizarding world. So, we should learn something about both worlds since we can't just ignore the existence of the other.“, she explains. Draco ponders on this for a second and y/n is proud that she gave a clever answer. It's something she truly believes in. Muggles should learn about wizards and the other way around. Right now, muggles and wizards just live next to each other and y/n wonders what might happen when they start living together, in one society.

Before Draco has the chance to reply, the man behind the counter interrupts them and brings over their plates. "Bon appetit, my lovebirds!“, he says and winks at them while he puts their plates down. Somewhere in the back, y/n can hear the woman groan "Och, George! Leave them alone!“ which makes her chuckle. In the end, he's not wrong, she thinks. Y/n and Draco thank them and pull their plates towards them. "Enjoy!“ she tells Draco and he gives her a smile. For a few minutes, they eat in silence. Y/n hasn't had some real fatty, unhealthy fish and chips in a while and she truly enjoys it. With a mouthful of fish she groans: "Man, this is so good!“. Draco gives her a grin and swallows. "It is, isn't it? It's the best fish and chips in the whole of England!“, he tells her. Y/n nods in agreement. "You know, my parents used to take me to Cornwall every summer holiday. On the last day, we always had fish and chips in this crappy old shop at the coast. This reminds me a lot of it.“, she narrates. "Why are they not taking you anymore?“, Draco asks her. Y/n shrugs. "I don't know. They're both busy with work, I guess.“, she answers. Draco pushes some food around on his plate. "You have a good relationship with your parents?“, he continues to ask. Y/n thinks about this for a second. "I guess. I mean we don't argue a lot, unlike other kids in my class. It's mostly because I bring home good grades and don't act rebellious, I think. But it's not like we spent that much time with each other, just around the house for meals and stuff. And you and your parents?“, y/n replies. Draco continues to push his food around and takes some time before he answers. "It's similar but my parents are also very strict, especially my dad. Even when I'm not acting up, sometimes I just say something he doesn't approve of and he gets pissed off.“, he mumbles. Y/n already thought that's what their relationship was like.

She is ready to move on from the topic when Draco suddenly asks: "Do you sometimes feel like your parents do stuff you'd never do?“. "I mean, yes. My mom always wipes off the soles of her shoes after entering the house. I'd never do that. I just take them off. I only wear them outside anyways, why bother wiping them all the time?“, she says. Draco shakes his head and frowns. "No, not like that. I mean like... I don't know... bad things.“, he tries to specify. Y/n crooks her head. "Depends. You mean like tax evasion bad or murder bad?“, she asks. Draco shrugs. "Something in between?“, he offers.Y/n leans back in her chair and looks up to the ceiling. She is trying to remember if her parents or any family members ever did something that falls into that category. "Well... my uncle supports the alt-right movement, at least in spirit. He doesn't do much besides having a big mouth.“, she tells him. Draco looks a bit confused. "You know the type of people who'd like to oppress people of color and women? Like, he told me that abortions and illegal immigration should be punished with the death penalty at a family dinner.“, she explains. Draco nods relieved, then looks at his plate again. "Are your parents like that sometimes?“, y/n asks him softly. "Hm, yeah.“, Draco tells her almost embarassedly. Y/n reaches over the table and takes his hand. "Don't worry about it. Important is that you don't get involved with stuff like that.“, she says and squeezes his hand.

Suddenly, having lost all appetite, y/n proposes: "Hey, why don't we get out of here? Let's have a look around town and discuss what we want to do for the rest of the day“. Draco agrees and they both get up. They bid the nice couple goodbye. Y/n feels relieved when the fresh, warm summer air hits her face. "I'm probably going to smell like a deep fryer for the whole next week.“, she says while sniffing her clothes. Draco snickers and casually takes her hand. Y/n has to blush a bit and doesn't look at him. She also doesn't let go, though. Together, they stroll through the narrow streets of the medieval town. They decide that they take a walk along the Avons and check out the Market Walk. Y/n stops at a bridge and yells: "Draco, look!“. A family of ducks are merrily paddling along the shore. Draco walks up behind her and places a hand on her lower back. He stands so closely behind her that y/n can feel his chest slightly pressed against her side. Carefully, she leans back into him and Draco puts his arms around her, pulling her close. He leans his head against hers. "They're so cute.“, y/n whispers. Her heart suddenly beats up into her throat. "You're cute.“, Draco whispers back and strokes over her hair with his lips. Y/n twists in his arms so that she can look up to him with wide, almost expecting eyes. Draco softly presses a kiss to her forehead. When y/n doesn't pull back after it, his gaze flickers towards her lips. Y/n leans a bit closer to him and Draco lowers his lips so he can properly kiss her. Draco's lips are soft on hers. His hands find their way into her hair and he pulls her head closer, deepening the kiss. Y/n feels as if she is pudding in his arms. For a moment, she forgets that they are standing on a busy street. Draco pulls back and looks at her for a moment. "I've been waiting to do this since you stepped out of the train.“, he tells her and y/n has to giggle. "Well, you have a whole weekend to do this a couple of times more.“, she teases him. Draco raises an eyebrow and asks: "Is that an invitation?“. Y/n gives him a peck and answers: "Yes, it definitely is“.

They let go of each other and walk to the market hall hand in hand. Y/n feels like she could fly and all worries from this morning are long forgotten. The couple strolls through the market hall. Y/n stops at some shops and picks up some trinkets and books. Draco sneers at her affection for romance novels and y/n makes fun of him for being forced to read the great classics by his parents. Eventually, they have tea in a small tea room. They sit crammed in a little nook, holding hands under the table. The women serving in the café watch the two giggling and putting their heads together with soft smiles. It remembers them of a time long ago when they were first in love. On their way back, they stop at a Tesco and get some sandwiches. They have their dinner at the shore of the river and watch the sunset together. When y/n grows cold, Draco pulls her into his lap as an excuse to warm her up. However, all he does is steal some kisses. Something that y/n doesn't mind he does. When the streetlamps light up, Draco helps y/n up and they make their way back to the inn. They stop holding hands a block before the inn and create some distance between them. Obviously, Goover is not supposed to think that some cousins are romantically involved with each other.

Back at their room, y/n takes her toilet bag and disappears into the bathroom to have a long nice shower. She wants the smell of fish and chips out of her hair. Returning dressed in her pajamas, Draco also retreats to the bathroom. She uses the time to text her parents that she arrived safely and how she spent her day. She quickly puts the device away when she hears Draco opening the door again. A towel lays over his shoulders and water drips from his hair. Y/n thinks he looks marvelous. Draco plumps onto his bed and dries his hair. "So, what do you want to do before going to bed?“, he asks her. "I brought some card games if you wanna play.“, y/n proposes. She ends up teaching him Skip-Bo and UNO. Being a terrible loser, Draco demands compensation after she hits him with a 4+ for the fifth time. They end up making up on the floor between their beds. Firstly, their kisses are sweet and careful, still testing each other's boundaries. With time, their kisses grow more heated and longing. Draco pulls her into his lap again and his hands start roaming her body. He slides his hand under her shirt, stroking against the soft skin of her lower back. Y/n's hand messes up his hair. At some point, Draco's leg falls asleep. In an attempt to shift their position, his long legs hit the nightstand and the vase on it tips over with a loud 'clonk'. They let go for a moment, looking bewilderedly at the source of the sound. When the vase doesn't fall onto the floor, they are just about to continue when there is a loud knock on the door. "What are you children doing in there? You pay for what you break!“, Goover's agitated voice rings through the door. The two quickly dart apart, scared the man will open the door and see them in a compromising position. Draco clears his throat and quickly yells: "Sorry, I walked against the nightstand. Nothing's broken“. There is shuffling in front of his door, then silence. Draco and y/n look at each other with wide eyes, and then they both have to laugh. Y/n quickly brushes through her hair with her hands in hopes of looking more presentable. Draco shakes his head and chuckles. "Maybe that was our cue. Probably best to leave it at that for the night.“, he says. Y/n nods. She's a bit glad that they got interrupted. Kissing Draco like that felt good but she also had no idea where they were going with this and if she really wanted to go there, wherever that was.

After brushing their teeth, they settle into their retrospective beds and turn the lights off. After the conversation dies down, y/n lies wide awake in her bed. She turns over to Draco and listens to his breath. She stares into the darkness, hoping to make our Draco's shape. Eventually, Draco turns towards her and she notices that he's still awake. "You know“, Draco suddenly whispers into the dark, "I kinda really wish we had that double bed right now“. Y/n giggles at that. "I could come over“, she whispers back. "You could.“, Draco agrees. Y/n bites her lip in contemplation. "But no funny business?“, she carefully asks. "No funny business.“, Draco agrees again. Y/n slips out of her bed. The floor is cold beneath her naked feet and she hurries to get under Draco's blanket. He puts the blanket up and y/n cuddles herself into his chest. Draco pulls the blanket and his arms over her. Y/n can hear his beating heart. Draco puts his hand into her hair, softly messaging her scalp. The warmth and Draco's hand against her head start to make y/n dizzy with sleep. She nuzzles into his neck and slowly lets sleep take over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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