#it was largely bc of the boots but oh my god the whole fit had me feeling insane (positive)

[stab-at-me]

truly the most powerful I ever felt

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #3 (NSFW)

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A/N: sticking to these right now because I’m obsessed! This one was long so the other 3 in the collection will be in collection 4.

‼️THIS IS THE 7TH PART IN A SERIES READ THE OTHER PARTS BEFORE THIS ONE: ‼️

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Aone 8 1/2 Months Into Crushing On You And Having His First Ever Wet Dream💦😴

Kenji Futakuchi woke up with a startle. He actually fell out of his bed due to the loudness of his phone ringing that was charging on the other side of his room.

Groaning in pain on the floor, Kenji swiped his iPhone to answer. He didn’t even need to look at the caller ID to know who was calling him. Kenji spoke first when he picked up:

“I love you man. You’re my best friend. But care to explain why the fuck you are calling me 5 times at 4 o’clock in the morning?!”

On the other end of the line, Aone Takanobu sat up in his camouflage coloured bed, clutching his iPhone to his ear for dear life.

“Good, you answered.” He said simply.

“Fuck you, I fell off my bed. What is it? Someone better either 1) be dying or 2) wants to marry me—and her name better be Aja Naomi King.”

Aone deadpanned. “Neither.”

Rolling his eyes, Kenji yawned. “Tell me what’s wrong, Takanobu-san.”

“Um..... I‘m unsure of how to phrase it.”

“Well, get sure. I’m going to fall back asleep.”

“Please don’t fall back asleep. I need your help.”

“I’m listening to you, you freakishly tall polar bear!!”

“You’re rather grumpy at 4:04am...........”

“Aone! I’m hanging up—“

“No! I apologize. I need....er.....your help. Or your advice. I....uh.....had an......interesting.......dream. A dream like none I’ve ever had before.”

Kenji couldn’t believe his best friend was calling him at 4:00am on a school night to tell him about a crappy dream. “Okaaaaaay.......?” He prodded rudely, trying to get the white haired athlete to elaborate.

“It was about Y/N.”

So?

“Okay and.......?”

“And now I feel very on edge.”

“Okay and.......?”

Aone sighed, knowing that he’d have to spell it out for his sleepy friend. “Y/N was.....um.....naked........in my dream.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. Although he knew his middle blocker friend liked girls and girls liked him—in all Futakuchi’s years being friends with Aone he’d never seen or heard of Aone being so physically attracted to a girl to the point where he’d dream about her naked. He was really respectful and rarely even checked out women. That’s why girls loved him at Date Tech but the Mountain Man never paid attention to them because he ‘had’ you. Well, Kenji should have really seen something like this coming considering how much Aone liked Y/N, but it was still surprising because this was a first.

“Yeah? Was she naked and alone in your dream?”

“Uh....no.....I was there as well....”

Kenji smiled. “And were you two....shall I say....having a good time?”

“.....Yes.”

“Tell me about it.”

Aone’s eyes widened as he immediately went red. “N-no, Kenji-san.”

Kenji yawned nonchalantly, putting his hand behind his head comfortably on the ground. “Why not? Wet dreams are normal for guys our age, Aone. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve really never had one before?”

“Never. Not once. And it’s referred to as a wet dream? Why in the world do they call it that?”

“Aren’t your pants wet....?”

Aone glanced down quickly, immediately jumping and flushing in slight horror when he saw a large wet circle in the middle of his boxers crotch. He scrambled out of his bed in shock.

“Um....I am going to call you back.” Aone mumbled.

7 minutes later after Aone had successfully cleaned himself up and changed into clean pyjamas, Kenji picked up his call again.

Kenji now has a bowl of ramen with him in his room and he was sitting up on its bed.

“Tell me about the dream, big guy.” He says with his mouth full.

Aone blushes slightly before starting:

💤 💤 💤

Aone was in class.

He looked to his right where you were giggling and passing notes with your friends, ignoring the teacher like always. Aone thought you looked really pretty today in your uniform, though for some reason your skirt seemed shorter than usual. He really liked it like that.

Takanobu watched you pass notes enjoyably, when suddenly a random student’s hand next to him was holding out a note to him.

Aone took the note, confused, and looked down at it.

He flipped the paper and before unfolding it, he read:

To Aone

From Y/N

Aone felt his heart speed up as he looked up in your direction and noticed that you were staring back at him from across the classroom. You smiled at him and blew him a kiss.

He froze, genuinely afraid he was going to internally combust.

🚨 You were noticing him! You were looking at him! You sent him a note! You blew him a kiss and you seemed actually happy to be giving him attention! 🚨

Forgetting that he even had a note in his hand because the girl he liked was giving him googly eyes, Y/N pointed cutely at the note in his hand to remind him.

You cupped your mouth with your hand so that the teacher couldn’t see what you were saying and looked at Aone. “Open it!” You mouthed with a gorgeous smile to boot.

Blushing profusely because he was embarrassing himself by forgetting the note just because you merely looked at him, Aone nodded stoically and looked back down at the piece of paper.

After taking a deep breath and silently praying that this wasn’t a letter telling him to quit staring at her because she’s not interested and he’s creepy, he unfolds the small note.

Inside, it read in beautiful calligraphy (which is very dream like bc your handwriting was nothing of the sort):

Dear Aone,

You’re always staring at me so I just thought I would ask you...... can I suck your dick? *smiley face kissy face*

- Y/N

***

Looking back up again, Aone was somehow still in the classroom, only there was no one there anymore except for him and Y/N. The walls were painted white now as if they were in a cloud’s waiting room.

Even his desk was gone and he was just sitting in the chair he’d been in.

In the place that your desk should be, you now stood there watching Aone with dark eyes. You were toying with your shorter skirt and Aone automatically couldn’t breathe.

You skipped toward him and stood in front of him, smiling that beautiful smile.

Aone thought you looked breathtaking so close to him. Without warning, you dropped down to your knees in the empty classroom and began making work of removing Aone’s school pants.

Aone gulped as he looked down at you.

“Y/N. C-can I ple-please take you out on a d-date fi-first, perhaps? If that wou-would be okay with you?? I would like to sh-sh-show you how much I like y-you—“

His pleas were interrupted when you swallowed his cock whole.

Dream-Aone moaned louder than he ever has before and tilted his head back. He was trying to tell you that you didn’t have to do this and that your pleasure was infinitely more important than his, but he was still a boy and the horniness he felt seeing the—dare I say—like of his life with your mouth wrapped around his shaft made him unable to think.

You hollowed you cheeks around his dick and sucked him hard, using both your hands to twist and pump the remaining centimetres of his large dick that couldn’t fit in your wet mouth. You were slurping and it made Aone feel so good. He never felt anything better and he’s never seen a more erotic sight than his dick being swallowed into the wanton mouth of his crush.

Wet-dream-Y/N flicked her heated eyes up to Aone’s, who groaned when he saw your beautiful eyes staring into his, egging on his orgasm without even trying.

“Fuck,”

Aone moaned as he removed the ponytail from your hair and placed his large hand at the back of your head. He didn’t even need to guide you because you were amazing at it. Your mouth was small and wet and the horny side of Aone’s brain couldn’t wait to send his load shooting down your throat.

Aone excitedly thought about giving you head after this in order to show you how much he treasured you.....and the thought alone almost made him cum.

Feeling like he never wanted your soft lips off of his dick again but also feeling conflicted because he wanted to date you and show you how much he could spoil you with anything you ever wanted before any of this—Aone felt the need to try and stop you again.

“Y/N—-I don’t want you to think I’m li-li-like those other guys. I have genuine feelings for-for you. Re-really strong f-feelings. I want to be your boyfriend and make you the happiest g-g-gir-girl ever.” He was panting as he spoke.

In response, you popped his dick out of your mouth and smiled up at him sweetly. “Aone. I’m already your wife. You didn’t forget, did you?”

You lifted your hand to showcase your huge engagement ring that should really weigh your small hand down but somehow didn’t.

dreams are a funny place

Aone gasped in surprise seeing it, though more than anything his heart swelled with love and overwhelming happiness!

“Y-you married m-me?!” He couldn’t help but smile.

You started pumping his cock again with your hand while looking up at him. Aone’s head fell back again in pleasure. “Yep!” You cheered. “Don’t you remember our honeymoon?”

***

Suddenly the setting changed fast again. You two were in the backyard of a beautiful private mansion at night. It was the mansion Aone had rented for your honeymoon so that Y/N could be as loud as she wanted without any hotel complaints from neighbours:

This proved to be worth every penny because Aone Takanobu currently had your thighs wrapped around his head as he penetrated your sensitive vagina with his powerful tongue after your second orgasm. Aone was standing up tall to his full height, and he had a naked-you propped up on his shoulders so that your heat was level with his eager mouth. You were so high on the Mountain because you were sitting on Aone’s shoulders frontwards🏔, straddling his face. You were pulling onto Aone’s healthy white hair as he darted his tongue in and out of your entrance and then sucked on your clit with vigor.

“AONE! OH MY GOD, AONE! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!” You moaned. “YES! UH! YES! TAKANOBU ALL I NEED IS YOU FOREVER! I WAS SADLY MISTAKEN TO LOOK YOU OVER FOR THAT TRASHY BASEBALL PLAYER WHEN YOU WERE THERE ALL ALONG WAITING TO GIVE ME EVERYTHING I COULD EVER DESIRE! YOUR TONGUE FEELS SO GOOD, AONE!”

A/N: girl bye if you think your moans are too extra - it’s Aone’s dream, remember?

You were screaming in ecstasy and Dream-Aone was so fucking turned on by your erotic sounds and screams that he couldn’t take it.

Mountain man moaned into your heat. He began flicking your puffy bud with the tip of his tongue like rapid fire while he moaned along with you so you could feel the vibrations on your clit.

You gripped his hair tighter and screamed.

“AONE YOU ARE THE BEST HUSBAND EVER! I AM SO GLAD I AGREED TO MARRY YOU! NO ONE CAN LOVE ME OR FUCK ME THE WAY YOU DO! AHH YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE I WANT! I’M SO SORRY I DIDNT NOTICE YOU BEFORE! AHHH, AONE-“

When you screamed his name for the sixth time, a long groan escaped from Takanobu’s lips as he thrust into the air and ejaculated in his swim trunks.

His feelings were way too strong for you (HIS DREAM-WIFE) not to cum to hearing you continuously scream and moan his name for the first time.

He only stopped giving you head for a second in order to finish orgasming before you were wiggling your hips trying to get him to keep going. Loving that you loved what he was doing to you, Aone dove his tongue deep into your folds and right back into your deliciousness.....

before he woke up in his bed panting.

💤💤💤

“Jesus Christ,” Futakuchi himself couldn’t help but feel slightly aroused by Aone’s very detailed explanation of his wet dream. “That was your first wet dream ever?!”

Aone nodded earnestly even though he couldn’t be seen over the phone. “Indeed.”

“Sheesh. My first was years ago but it was just about making out with my celebrity crush, but yours.............well, I guess you’re the most passionate guy I know—your world stops when Y/N walks into the cafeteria—so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

“What does it mean?” Aone asked. “Is there something wrong with my feelings for Y/N? Am I one of those guys that she hates?! That only want her for her body??”

Kenji heard the panic rise in his friends voice so he rushed to reassure him:

“No, dude. Not at all this DOES NOT makes you like those other guys! You’ve crushed on Y/N for MONTHS and you see her parade around in her hot cheerleading uniform all the time and you’ve NEVER looked at her the same way all those pervy guys do. It shows how much of a good guy you are and how you like her for her. You just suppressed your sexual side deep down because youre so crazy about her that I think it comes out tenfold in your dreams. You’re attracted to her so it’s bound to show somewhere, right? I know you’re hopelessly romantic when it comes to Y/N. You tell me about your dreams about surprising Y/N with flowers, or kissing her forehead and all that PG shit but your hormones have to say hello at some point, right? It’s human nature. No matter what—It’s just a dream, though, so you and Y/N didn’t actually have mind blowing oral sex. Meaning you have nothing to worry about. Tomorrow at school everything will go back to normal and you’ll just be whipped for the girl like you always are and everything will be the same. You’re fine.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Uh....Aone? You fall asleep over there?”

“....No.”

“Then why so silent?”

“I......I....” The Date Tech volleyball player sighed. “I.........just don’t want things to go back to normal, as you put it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I wanted my dream to be real.”

“Oh, the sex part? Well of course you do, seeing Y/N naked would be—“

“Not the sex part.” Aone interrupted. “I could go without sex forever if Y/N didn’t want it. I’d do anything for her.”

Kenji couldn’t believe that he couldn’t trace an ounce of insincerity in his middle blockers voice. He was serious that he’d give up sex if it meant being with Y/N. “Then what part to do you wish was real, Aone?” Asked Kenji.

Aone turned red again as a blush overtook him. Kenji could basically sense the blush from his house.

“The marriage part.” Aone admitted, feeling slightly pathetic. “In my erotic dream, Y/N had agreed to marry me.” Takanobu’s heart ached as it often did when he thought of you.

“So I was saying that I wish, in the very least, that that part was real.”

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Outtake #4: CLICK HERE

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #2 “The First Time Bringing Him Home”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 19th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

---> READ BLURB #1

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST          

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italicized words : a flashback.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words (!!!)

SONG:  And I Love Her by The Beatles  (CLICK TO LISTEN)

                          * SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. But it doesn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?“

“She thinks that there’s one soul out there, just for her. One that will stay by her side forever and that someday, she’ll find it.”

- Kazuya Kujō, GOSICK -ゴシック-

*

“Are you kidding me?” 

Groaning, I drop my purse in the doorway where it falls with a thud, and my quick steps echo down the hallway. “Harry Edward, I swear to God,” I mutter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at his laughing figure at the other end, but the happy sound only grows further and further away. 

“What would you ever do without me?” I ask nobody aloud, coming to a stop in a patch of sunlight dancing through the tall window. Rounding his desk, I find his brown messenger bag that I still smile at every time, and begin to pack his stuff up.

Pulling open a drawer, I find his Macbook charger that I may or may not be stealing for the tenth or twelfth time. After the last of the unwrapped cord comes out, something pink flutters to the marbled floor. Huffing, I shove the charger into his bag and bend down to pick it up, smoothing down the end of my skirt against my bottom. The thought of standing back up comes to my mind, but as a hint of his recent Sage and Citrus candle trickles through the air, I stop at the words I see. 

“Huh,” I sigh, my lips curling into my cheek as the writing on the Post-It clears before my eyes. A certain somebody’s handwriting that I could recognize instantly, but my noggin takes a moment to rouse the reason for this very note. 

I hope your case went well today, Harry, and I’m sure it did because you’re so good at what you do. I just wanted to let you know that I really like working with you, and I’m so glad that I found this job, and more importantly, you. You’re one of my best friends, Harry, so thank you a lot for that. 

Your Becks xxx

The space between my eyebrows softens when the jigsaw pieces click inside my head, but then it’s followed by the smallest of tears in my chest when I notice that my name is smudged. The paper all over has smudge marks, and looks almost crinkled, as if somebody spilled something on it . . or shed tears onto it. 

“Oh, Harry. I hate to think what you did do without me,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the note I wrote so many years ago, and yet, he still clung onto it. Standing back up, I clear my itchy throat and tuck the note back into the drawer where it sat in the little divider surrounded by coins and pink erasers. 

“Can I help you with sumthin’?” a voice teases from the doorway. I almost jump when I hear it, the sleek wooden drawer closing without a sound. 

“Yeah, you can stop making us late.” 

“What, we’re not gonna be late, Becks.” 

“We will if you don’t stop it with your Minnesota goodbyes,” I quip, draping the cloth strap over my shoulder and stepping forward. 

“Whatever tha hell that means,” he titters with knitted brows, that breathy laugh escaping his lips to grace the air. He closes the distance between us and I feel zings of electricity on my forehead where his lips touch. “Here, gimme. I was jus’ sayin’ me goodbyes t’ My’ t’ make sure we’re all set with bein’ gone t’morrow and Monday, and you as well.” 

“If you say so,” I exhale, letting him take the bag from me. Somehow, it only makes him all the more attractive, clutching onto it across his chest, clad in a teal and black paisley suit with a button up the color of raven feathers beneath. 

“C’mon, brat. Let’s get this show on tha road then,” he complains ever so annoyingly, making me roll my eyes. 

“Hey! Watch it, you’re on thin ice, bud!” I exclaim, whipping around to find him giggling after pinching my ass. 

“Oooo, ‘m so scared!” 

+

“Harry, hurry up already! I don’t want to hit rush hour traffic! What more do you need to bring? It’s only a three-four day trip,” I call up the staircase, my hands slapping against my thighs in impatience. 

“‘m comin’! Would ya chill yer tits, woman? My God,” Harry chuckles, appearing around the corner of the staircase a moment later. Shaking my head, I catch sight of the large box wrapped in floral paper. “Don’t smile now, Becks. Dontchu’ smile, babe.” 

Stifling a giggle, I turn around fast and thread my fingers through the cloth handle, “Dammit, Harry, what do you have in this bag? It weighs a ton.” 

“‘s yer birthday presents, bug.” 

“It is?” I ask excitedly after an intake of air. His steps stop in front of me, but I ignore him and push aside the fabric of the large reusable cloth bag. 

“They’re wrapped, silly. Hey, you were gonna cheat and take a peek, weren’t you?!” Harry exclaims. Looking up slowly, I press my lying lips into a line and shake my head. His own pair rise to pinch his cheeks and now, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Naughty, naughty, Becks. Hmm, maybe I should jus’ leave ‘em here and you can open ‘em when we get back on Monday. Fo’get ‘bout openin’ ‘em up t’morrow mornin’ on yer birthday.” 

“Harry, no!” I almost shout, but his stern look dissolves into a giggle. A spark ignites on my cheek when his thumb brushes along it, hooking his fingers into my hair. 

“Don’t worry, sweets. I can hardly wait t’ give ‘em t’ you, let alone anotha few days,” he winks, and I feel my shoulders relax when I breathe out. “Now, let’s go put this in tha boot, and get goin’. Yer dad’s expectin’ us soon,” he hums, bending forward to sponge a kiss under my eye. I can’t remember when he had started doing that, but I smile at the feeling of his warm lips on my birthmark. 

“Hey, what’d I say earlier?!” I argue a moment later, almost jumping into the air after he pinched my bum. 

“I don’t care. Yer gonna be tha one makin’ us late now, if ya don’t hurry that cute bum o’ yers along.” 

Giggling, I open his glossy, black front door to step onto the front stoop. Humming a tune, Harry helps me to get the heavy bag into the boot of his Rover, fitting it and his large box amongst his suitcase and my own. Things are shoved to the side, including his windshield scraper, a jumper or two, and his bag of workout clothes with his highlighter yellow Nikes spilling out. 

“Becks, I get t’ pick this time!” 

“No, you don’t. I don’t even remember who picked last time, but I got to your phone first. That’s the rule,” I return with a mischievous grin pointed towards him. Huffing, he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat before pulling the seat belt across his chest. 

“Pick sumthin’ good please, and would ya plug me phone in then?”

“Sure, and wait, what do you mean? I always pick good music!” I say, turning to look at him as he presses the button to start the car. 

“I love ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ babe, but please, can we have sumthin’ different t’day? ‘s a three hour drive, I don’t wanna be listenin’ t’ those songs or bloody ‘Hannah Montana’ tha whole way.” 

“You’re no fun,” I groan, finding the words I had just said feeling heavy in my throat when I see his lock screen. A giggly picture of us from the other night fills it, the first time I’ve seen it. Smiling, I unlock it regrettably, and find his Music Library. 

“Alright, Ms. GPS, where am I goin’ exactly? ‘s been awhile since ‘ve been up this way, y’know,” Harry says, adjusting the air conditioner until it flows softly. 

“Thanks for driving,” I tell him first, squeezing his hand and watching his eyes scan over to me. They instantly fill with the smile that follows on his face. 

“Welcome, babe. Take all tha time ya need with gettin’ back t’ it. But, y’know, ya should start lookin’ fer a new car.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Harry-,” I begin in an upset tone, scrolling through one of his playlists. 

“Ya, but I do. I don’t see why you won’t lemme help you pay-.” 

“Harry, I can afford it, I’ll be fine. The settlement money will be enough for a used one,” I disagree, settling on a Haim song just to have something to listen to already. 

I just hope it’ll help me tune out this impending argument. 

“Ya, a shitty used one, Becks. ‘m not gonna let you drive ‘round an unreliable car, I-.” 

“Well, I don’t remember needing to have your permission before I did something,” I retort, setting his phone down above the radio on the little mat, noticing his fingers darting around on the touch screen. 

“That’s not what I said, Becks, y’know that . . Ya don’t ever need me permission t’ do sumthin’, I can’t believe ya’d think that ‘bout me,” Harry sighs, stabbing at the screen one last time before backing away from his closed garage. 

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the window, regret pooling inside of me darkly. I try to swallow, but the words I want to say sit there, unsaid. 

“I don’t think that about you, Harry, I-.” 

“Then why fookin’ say that, Becks?” he spits back, harshly switching gears before zooming along as the directions are spoken to him. 

“Because I’m upset and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset, and I’m tired of-.” 

“Doesn’t fricken ‘scuse what ya said, actin’ like ‘m controllin’ when ‘m not like that. You know ‘m not,” Harry grumbles under his breath, stopping suddenly in front of a changing stoplight. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Ya well, what have you said t’ me befo’, huh? ‘Sorry doesn’t always cut it,’ ‘cuz y’know, it doesn’t mean a whole lot when it gets overused all o’ tha time,” he continues, a bite in his voice. I soon taste blood in my mouth and release my tongue, unaware I was taking out my frustration on it, as well. 

“I don’t want your help buying a car, Harry, why can’t you just accept that already?” I almost explode, wishing I wasn’t, but the words were shoved up and away before I could stop them. 

His sigh is automatic and unavoidable, as is the click of his tongue, “‘Cuz we’ve argued ‘bout this how many times, and ya still won’t tell me why not.” 

“Fine, because I don’t want to take your help- your money. I-It’s just how I was raised, I don’t know. It’d be so embarrassing, Harry . . ,” I trail off, my voice growing small and choked. 

“Oh, Becks,” Harry says in an exhale, lacing his hand with mine and pressing a kiss to it. “Ya don’t hafta be embarrassed, love . . I know that you’d pay me back, and however long it takes ‘s fine.” 

“Thanks, but . . I don’t know. I don’t like ‘talking money’ with you, no offense or anything. It’s just . . weird with you being my boss and signing my checks, like you say. You know how much I make, and I know you pay me a little more than an associate because you like me.” 

“‘m sorry I give you shit ‘bout tha check thing, but y’know that other part’s a bit o’ an understatement,” he wheezes, squeezing my hand in his. Breathing in, I move my head to look at him and watch his eyes turn to me and soften. “It ‘s. I liked you afta a few weeks o’ knowin’ you at tha firm, then I really liked you, and then I loved you.” 

“Harry,” I say with a sigh, looking away and finding our laced hands sitting on his thigh, right where he always places them. 

“What, ya aren’t gonna reciprocate me love?” he giggles, and I remain quiet. “‘s okay, love, ya don’t always hafta.” 

“I love you too, but-,” I start, but cut myself off, just in time. Or, so I think.

“But what?” he asks, his indicator making a ticking noise while he switches lanes. It takes me a few moments to notice the absence of the music. I think that he’s lowered the volume, but then, I gather that he’s turned it off altogether. “Becks, what’re you thinkin’ bout?”

“Bug? Yer scarin’ me, what’s tha matter?” he says, hurrying through his words. My lips are dry when I swipe my tongue over them, but the landscape outside my window is anything but that. It’s green in between the buildings and the hot sun shines high in the sky. 

“I feel like a burden to everybody . . the last few months . . ,” I admit in a small voice, focused on the sensation of him twirling a ring around my finger. An old one I had found in a drawer the other day, from my uni days with Skye. “What are you doing?” I ask hurriedly when I notice he pulls off the road onto the shoulder, and parks. 

“Becks,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb into my hand, but it doesn’t wake me up quite yet. “Rebecca Holte, listen to me. No, I need you t’ look at me too,” he continues, cupping the side of my face and pressing on it until I look into his eyes overwhelmed with something. “You are not a burden t’ anybody, let alone t’ me. I love you, Becks, mo’ than I thought I could ever love somebody. Hell, mo’ than ‘ve loved anyone. Yer never a burden t’ me, ‘ve told you this fer years, and I wish you’d believe it, love. I really don’t mind givin’ you lifts t’ work, and I know Skye doesn’t either. How else would I know that you secretly love Miley Cyrus’ music, or ya still jam t’ High School Musical or The Lion King? I love ridin’ t’ work and home with you ev’ry day, I honestly cherish gettin’ that extra time with you. Sure, ya drive me nuts sumtimes with yer odd music tastes, but I love you fer that. I love you for yer stubbornness, even with this bloody car issue, ‘cuz I dunno if we’d be t’getha if it weren’t fer yer stubbornness. I love you fer how good you are with yer money, tha effort you make fer those you love, like spendin’ tha weekend at yer Dad’s fer yer birthday with Robbie. I love you fer yer dedication t’ anythin’ and anybody that you love - throwing Asher a surprise birthday party tha other week, or organizing that baby shower fer Rose next week. Yer amazing, you blow me off me feet ev’ry day with sumthin’ new ya did. You could never be a burden t’ me, yer tha complete opposite, bug. You make tha world spin ‘round fer me, always done that, you have. Ya make me excited t’ get up in tha mornin’, t’ be a lawyer, hell . . t’ be a person, and mo’ importantly, yer boyfriend and best friend. I never wantcha t’ think yer a burden, ‘specially t’ me, ‘cuz that’s tha last thing you are t’ me. I love you mo’ than I could ever begin t’ tell you,” Harry divulges and not for the last time do I feel like The Grinch, because it feels as if my heart has grown another size, or two. 

His warm laugh dances across my head when I fall into his arms and pull him against me for once. 

“Dontchu’ cry on yer birthday weekend now, bug,” he jokes against my temple, his lips making a smacking noise against my flushed skin. 

My favorite song in the world fills my ears as his words from before drunken my mind with their never ending meanings. I never thought I could love somebody this much, either. Sorry, Skye. 

Sniffling, I brush my hand against my itchy nose and peer up. His greens brighter than the grass outside my window peer down at me, softer than can be. 

“I love you too, Harry, so much. I don’t know what more I can say after that,” I croon with happiness plastered across my face. “But, thank you.”

“Ya don’t hafta say anymo’, that’s mo’ than enough fer me, sweets,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “‘m sorry ya didn’t get mo’ settlement money, ya would have if it was me who fought yer case.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay?” I giggle and he nods with those dimples on full display for me. He nibbles at his bottom lip, leaving short white imprints amongst the rosy color. I sometimes still amaze myself at getting to run my fingers through his hair whenever I want to, like now. The clean, citrus smell of his new shampoo wafts over me as he smiles down at me, making me think all of my dreams have come true. Almost all of them. 

“I know, bug, but it was disappointin’, tha settlement.”

“Your friend at Williams and Knox did great, Harry, and you couldn’t have argued it with your connection to me. Nobody at the firm could, seeing as how I work with them,” I explain to him, my thoughts brushing over the redundancy of it all. 

“‘ll tell ya what, I have an ol’ mate who works with cars, and I bet he could knock off a few grand fer me-.” 

“Harry!” I begin to protest, but it’s soon whisked away by the softness of his lips against mine. Our giggles tickle the others, and his hand is cold against my hip when he slides up my shirt. “I don’t want you to-,” I start again after he pulled away, but he dives back in for another kiss. Now, I don’t really care if we happen to be late. 

“Ya gonna stop arguin’?” he wheezes after ending the kiss, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. My lips part and he raises his eyebrows in response, making me nod moments later. “Good. Now, as I was sayin’, he owes me a favor so ‘ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ you a new car. Actually, I think a lease would be best fer you.” 

“But, Harry, new cars are too expensive and the insurance as well, and-.” 

“Hush,” he whispers against my lips, soon letting me taste his coconut chapstick for the third time in the last minute. Then again, time has seemingly gone out the window these last few minutes, and I couldn’t care if I tried. “I really do think ‘d be best. Ya, insurance would be higher, but then ya have a new car, guaranteein’ no problems, and if there are, tha dealer place fixes ‘em free o’ charge. Inna few years, ya can buy it, or trade it in and sign another lease.” 

“Okay, Mr. Convincing Lawyer, you do have a few good points,” I at last agree, watching his sixty-watt smile only grow brighter at my surrender. 

“Yer music t’ me ears, y’know that?” 

“Ditto,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Maybe if ya continue t’ be good  and give a li’l less lip at work, ya jus’ might get a raise when it comes t’ yer six month review next week,” he jests with a lift of an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastering his lips. “Reckon that’d help with tha car, bug.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles?”

“Mmmhmm, it ‘s indeed, Ms. Holte,” Harry answers, but I ignore him and choose to get lost in his lips, and the baby curls on the back of his neck. 

+

A Paul McCartney song hums around us, the soft twang of acoustic guitar filling the holes as buildings pass on by. Yawning, I shuffle my feet in front of me and tip my head against the window. The song comes to a gentle end before a Bowie song follows, and I find my thigh warmed by his touch. I lose myself in the lyrics as his thumb leaves circles through my jeans first above my knee, then higher, and higher. Turning away from the window, I peek a look at him to find him biting at his nails while focused on the road. 

“Stop biting your nails,” I whisper, my hand falling onto his and dragging it back towards my knee. It’s difficult, but I hold back the grin begging at my lips when I watch him blink with emphasis. 

“Stop movin’ me hand. Y’know what, it took me tha last ten minutes t’ get that high,” he retorts without moving his eyes from the traffic in front of us. 

“Why are you trying to get so high, huh, Mr. Styles?”

“Yer not helpin’ things by callin’ me that. Y’know how I feel ‘bout you callin’ me it,” Harry sighs, his thumb falling from his lips, and he turns on his indicator. After switching lanes, he reaches into the middle compartment and offers me a stick of gum before shoving a piece into his mouth. 

“And how do you feel about me calling you that?”

“Stop,” he says, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes when a light has turned red. “Playin’ dumb, Becks.” 

I avoid his eyes with a giggle and peer out at the landscape where buildings soon become far and in between, knowing how it gets to him and in a good way. His tsking tickles my ears and I shove his hand away, sure I’ve only made matters worse. The next few songs tick Queen off the list, as well as The Stones, and Simon and Garfunkel before a Beatles song follows. 

“Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes,” the radio sings back to us while Harry cruises at a steady 68 miles per hour. His distracted humming along eggs me on, and without a thought more, I slide my hand across the divider and onto his thigh. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, and when I glance over, he’s blowing bubbles between singing along. “And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean . . ,” he nods to the words, and smacks loudly on his gum. I take the chance and slowly lift my hand from the warmth of his leg, and find another spot a little higher up. 

“Yer cheatin’,” is all he says while sitting back further and adjusting his hand on the wheel. 

Huffing, I look away guiltily and try my darnedest to hide the smile blooming on my lips, “I am not.” 

“Yes, you are. Only slidin’, no liftin’, Ms. Holte. Start over, then.” 

“Fine,” I groan, replacing my hand to above his knee where I had begun in the first place. His chuckle irritates me, but when he picks up my hand to press a kiss to, I find it hard not to melt next to him. 

Throughout the next few songs featuring Jagger, Backstreet Boys, and McFly, I don’t get very far. I hardly beat my record when he picks up my hand and places it back at the starting point. 

“Harry!” I exclaim in annoyance, turning to face him. His dimpled cheeks round out with a pink smile. “No fair, I almost won!” 

“Ya, and ya were gettin’ a li’l too close t’ me junk, y’know.” 

“That’s the point of the game, silly!” I argue but it only collapses into a laugh that he reluctantly echoes. “We don’t actually . . touch each other, you know that.” 

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? You did jus’ tha other day!” 

“Stop it!” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest and facing the window once more with hot cheeks. With my face smushed into a line, I find only a few bits of relief when my forehead meets the cool glass of the window, wishing I hadn’t heard those words. “Don’t,” I mutter when he pries at my stubborn arms that coax me back together. 

“Babe, I was jus’ jokin’ with you. It was only an accident, ya don’t still hafta feel bad ‘bout that, Becks,” Harry insists, but the harmless giggle feels anything but that when it interrupts the new Busted song. 

“I would if you’d stop bringing it up! You know that I’m never going to hear the end of it from Skye, and now, you too!” 

“Bug, it was funny. We all agreed it was, ‘s nuthin’ t’ be ashamed of still, I promise you.” 

“Oh, hush,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking off his hand only to hear his depressed sigh. 

His voice grows low, and somehow, I let his hand remain when it graces the round of my knee, “I didn’t mind y’know, ‘s rather flatterin’ actually-.” 

“Would you shut up about it, please? I touched your crotch the other day, I know because I was there, and it was in front of Skye. I almost died from embarrassment when it happened, and if you don’t stop bringing it up, I actually will die from embarrassment and it’ll be all of your fault.” 

“Becks, chill out, babe,” he titters, the emphasis held in his hand that tries to rub the worries away, but I remain pouting. “Stop it with tha poutin’, love, ‘s not lost on me. It was an accident that ‘m sorry I keep givin’ ya grief fer. I like our li’l game, and I know ‘s harmless. Maybe one o’ these times ‘ll make it up t’ you and let ya win.” 

“Stop talking already, you know I hate it when you let me win.” 

“Young lady, ya better stop it with tha whining, cuz yer stuck with me for tha next three-four days, and ya best bet ‘m stealin’ all o’ tha covers,” he gripes, and I at last look at him with my body too. 

“Harry Edward, you will not!” 

“I will too, ‘specially if ya keep on poutin’ ‘bout that thing, ‘s not worth it,” he insists, pulling free one of my hands to lace with his one, and smatter the skin of with kisses. “I jus’ hope ya like what ya felt, but ya should know, ‘s mo’ impressive when ‘s hard.” 

“Harry, would you stop it?!” I shout, yanking my hand away from him and shrinking against the window with a shiver. “You’re gross.” 

“What, like ya haven’t thought ‘bout me dick befo’?” he wheezes with that breathy laugh I’m trying not to love right this moment. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the song, but it’s becoming too difficult as his words spring a leak in my mind. 

This little ‘game’ of ours had started shy of a few weeks ago, and I can’t even remember why really. One of us had started laying our hands on the other’s thigh and as a joke one night, I think after some drinks, I got a little handsy and tried to see how far I could slide my hand without him noticing. It’s become a competition ever since and harmlessly, given the fact that a few steamy makeout sessions as of late hadn’t progressed to anything besides that. Running across some old photos the other night with Skye when backing up my phone made me realize again just how lucky I’ve gotten with him. The man I never thought I’d be able to love, and here I am, embarrassed because my boyfriend is talking about his dick that may or may not occupy my thoughts at times.

God, if I could tell Past Becky that sometime in the near future sh-we may get to see Harry naked, she wouldn’t believe me, or the fact I probably get to sleep beside him the next few nights with him wearing nothing but shorts. I can’t decide which outweighs the other, the excitement, or the fear of the f- that kind of future. 

+

“No,” I whine, continuing to comb through the contents, despite the fact that I already know that it’s not there. 

“Yer bedroom ‘s cute, y’know. Look at all these posters, I love ‘em. Bloody hell, ‘s that a Scooby Doo stuffie? Powerpuff Girls too?” he giggles from across the hallway, and I hear things being moved around. “Becks?”

“I know I packed it, what the heck?”

“What’s tha matter?” Harry coos, coming up from behind me and circling his arms around my waist. 

“I forgot to pack a razor.” 

Apparently, he finds that very funny, because within seconds he’s laughing, “Why ya frettin’ over a razor, bug? We’re only here three nights.” 

“Because . . I didn’t want my legs to be prickly when we sleep together,” I reveal softly, and that sweet sound of his returns, soon muffled against my hair. 

“I honestly don’t care if yer legs are hairy t’night, or t’morrow, or tha night afta that. I never have, love. But, if it really matters t’ ya, ya can borrow me razor. Lemme find it.” Facing him, I watch as he picks up his small, black toiletries bag and plucks a silver handled razor from it. “Here.” 

“Uh, no thanks. Forget I asked,” I rush, occupying myself by grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag to set on the counter beside his gray one. 

“What, why ya look scared, Becks? Ya never used a safety razor befo’ or summat?”

“No,” I reveal slowly, untwisting the cap of the white tube, and squeezing a dollop of the blue gel onto my toothbrush. 

“‘s really not that bad, I promise you. I like it better, doesn’t gimme razor burn and goofy bumps, or ingrown hairs as much.” 

“I’m fine, no thanks,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth as I move it around, scrubbing my teeth. 

“Becks, c’mon. Really, ‘s not that bad. Hey, why dontchu’ help me shave t’night, and that way you’ll learn how t’ use it. Reckon ‘s easier t’ use on yer legs, not havin’ all tha contours o’ yer face and jaw t’ nick.” 

“Really?” I ask, placing a hand against the cool countertop, and facing him. “Wait, but I like your stubble and it was just coming back after you had shaved.” 

“I leave the upper lip area and chin, but tha cheeks get patchy, so I shave those. I guess yer gonna hafta put up with tha stache again.” 

“That’s okay, you know I like it. You’d really trust me to shave your face?” I respond, turning on the sink and filling a cup with water. 

He nods, and with an eager smile, fishes out the large tube of shaving gel from his bag. 

“What if I cut you?” I almost whine moments later, with the heavy handle in my hands. 

“Babe, ya won’t, and if ya do, I won’t be mad. Rememba, like I showed you - forty-five degree angle, short strokes, and tha lightest pressure. Rinse every few strokes under tha tap. You’ll be fine,” Harry insists with the emphasis placed in his rising eyebrows. “Promise you that I trust you.” 

“Okay, I’ll try it a few times, but that’s it. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.” 

“Ya won’t, bug. This ‘s how ya learn, anyways. Now, c’mon, give it a go,” he coos, pulling me closer to him by his hands pressed to my hips. 

Exhaling, I lift my hand and leave a gap of air in between the safety razor and his cheek covered in the white foam. Tilting it like he had said to do, I wait for him to open his mouth to pull the skin taut. I go with the grain and pull the razor along with short strokes, listening to his encouragements as his cheeks slowly reappears before my eyes. 

“God, you look like a baby like this. I’ve always wondered what you looked like as a teenager, I want to see more pictures.” 

“Noted, ‘ll hafta have me mum bring some over next time,” he replies  and I nod, being careful when his face slopes with his cheekbones, but I save the jawline for him to do. 

Goodness, Becky, you’re shaving your boyfriend’s face. Sometimes, I still catch myself when I call him that, Harry.

+

“Bloody hell, ‘s yer dad good at cribbage. I thought I had that last game 'til tha end there,” Harry chortles from across the hallway. Nodding to myself, I flick off the bathroom light, and stop in the doorway to find him snuggled under the covers of my childhood bed. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. 

“I told you that I learned from the best,” I reply, closing my door softly and then getting the light. Dashing across the room, I almost jump onto my bed. 

“Come warm me up, bug, ‘m freezin’ with that fan on,” Harry says, his teeth chattering, but I wonder if it’s only for the comical effect. “And then, God, what he said when we brought our suitcases in.” 

“What’d he say again?” I ask, burying myself underneath the plain, gray comforter, and draping the rainbow colored quilt on top. 

“How could ya forget, Becks?” he chuckles from beside me, the sound surrounding me when I place my head on his chest. His laughs continue and grow deeper over the next several seconds whilst I get comfortable under the blankets and his arms find their way around me. “Hey, Dad, where should Harry sleep? Have him sleep with you in yer old bed, I’m not getting any younger y’know, I want some grandkids soon, and Robbie isn’t looking too promisin’.” 

“I can’t believe he said that either, I could have died from embarrassment right then and there,” I comment, my laugh joining his to echo around the room. His chest and belly shake and then squeeze beneath me as I nuzzle my head into the middle of his chest.

Little old me had nearly all of her dreams granted after I kissed this fellow, including getting to feel his toned body any time I want to, or lay my head between his solid pecs. Christ Almighty. 

“Once again, ev’rybody, but us, thinks we’re havin’ sex,” Harry says, his laugh seemingly not going anywhere. My cheeks warm at his words and I wish that I could bury my head deeper into him, but I only feel the lukewarm metal of his cross necklace against my cheek. 

“Hey, that’s not too bad of a deal. We didn’t have to do anything, and people think we are.” 

“You have a silly mind, li’l one. I mean, I don’t care what people think, but I wish our parents would stop askin’ fer grandchildren, seein’ as we’ve only been t’getha four months,” Harry giggles, and I nod, remembering my dad missing vague and going straight to obvious when he said he was traditionally named after his father. His elbow into my side didn’t help his case, either. 

Suddenly, a disturbing thought whisks my laugh away and I don’t find the joke very funny, anymore. 

“Why aren’t you laughin’, hmm? Here, then - it was funny when he hinted he wants a grandson named afta him. Our parents really are obvious, aren’t they?” Harry chirps, and I nod silently, only now noticing the callused tips of his fingers dancing along my arm. “‘m sorry, I overplayed tha joke, didn’t I? ‘s not too funny afta a few goes, ‘s it?”

“No, you’re fine,” I say, but the thoughts kicking up dust in my head don’t feel very fine. No, they don’t make me feel ‘fine’ at all. 

Why is it that she always has to ruin everything, ever since I was little? Even now, with her well out of my life, she’s still there despite the fact she’s not . . here. 

“What ‘s it, Becks? Did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, it’s not you, Harry. I don’t know, just overthinking things,” I reveal, letting my hand rest on the curve of his bicep, wishing I could see his tattoos in the dark to trace them. I know that that wouldn’t make them go away, though. 

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, or jus’ go t’ bed?”

“I dunno,” I almost laugh, wishing this was ironic and that it was still funny. But, it’s not. “It’s hard to think about being a mum and mine not being there for it. I know that’s how I’d want it to be, though. It’s just . . hard, knowing how much other mums rely on that and enjoy getting to share the experience with theirs.”

“Oh, love, ‘m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he pipes up, resting his head against mine, and I welcome the closeness. 

“I know you didn’t, it was just my thoughts stirring up ‘what if’s.” 

“Hey, ‘m sure when ya get t’ know me mum betta and Gemma, that me mum would be happy t’ step in fer that role, and me sister too. I already know with Gem that me mum would be all over my babies, and she’s a wonderful grandmother. I only wish she lived closer, but she’s always joked if I had kids, that that’s what would take her t’ move t’ London,” he says into my hair, and I nod into his smooth skin, my cheek tickled by his chest hair. 

“Gemma must have been annoyed with that,” I titter and he agrees. 

“‘ve thought ‘bout it too, y’know. Me dad‘s ‘round fer Harper and Ollie, but I dunno if ‘d ever want him ‘round my kids. He fooked up things with me, so why would I let him do tha same with me kids? I don’t want them wonderin’ why their granddad doesn’t come t’ their birthday party this time but did tha last, or t’ see us have a row . . It makes me sad, but y’know, ‘m glad we can relate t’ each other on this stuff, whatta load o’ rubbish it all ‘s.” 

“Me too, Harry,” I breathe, tracing the shape of his necklace as his heartbeat thuds in my ear. “I can’t ever see things changing with my mum, but maybe it could with your dad someday . . It’s a good thing we’re not having kids anytime soon, huh?”

“Ya, reckon so, but ‘m already thirty, Becks. Time’s a tickin’ fer me in that father department,” he shares gently, and I wish I could see his eyes and lose myself in them, and maybe drag him along for the ride too. It’s all that I can think of to get rid of the sour remnants of this conversation, one that’s all of my fault. 

“Oh, hush. My dad was thirty-four when he had Robbie and I, so you’ll be fine.” 

“Ya, but I dunno, rather sure ‘d want kids soon afta gettin’ married,” he hums happily, a longing for the future in his voice. Boy, is it contagious. “Prolly within tha year.”

“Okay, would you chill it with the future talk? As you just said, it’s only been four months, Harry,” I laugh, nervously. A similar sound rumbles through his chest as he hugs me in his arms, smattering kisses along my head. 

“Well, maybe four months will turn into forever one day, ya never know, bug,” he says with a lilt in his voice, teasing dripping from it. “C’mon, ya don’t know yet whether or not ya wanna be my Mrs. Styles one day?”

“I can tell what your answer to that question is,” my answer comes out in between apprehensive laughs, my cheeks surely scarlet against his skin. 

“I never reveal me secrets, Becks,” he whispers, as if I don’t know it by now. “So, will ya marry me one day?”

“I’ll have to think about it . . ask again in a few months, weirdo.” 

+

The streams of sunlight tease at my eyes while a sensation tickles my neck. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers but they don’t get very far, knocking against another hairy pair. 

“Wake up,” somebody coos softly into my ear, followed by a stream of gentle kisses down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the covers higher, but they don’t budge. “Becks,” they say, dragging out the sound of my name as they rub circles into my stomach. 

I lay there for a little while longer, dipping in and out of sleep, amongst the sound of my name and indiscernible humming. The next time I open them, the sun is beating through the window and the standing fan whirs along. A pair of arms is secure around my waist, and although used to it, I feel somebody’s prickly stubble against my cheek. I smile into the soft kisses pressed along my face and then a last one to my nose. “Wake up, Boops, ‘s yer birthday. ‘s my baby Becks’ birthday t’day,” Harry croons and I feel his cheeks rounding out from a smile against mine. 

“Mmmmm, my twenty-seventh birthday,” I reply, stifling a yawn. They reply with an ‘mmmhmm’ before they hide their face in my neck. “And I get to spend it all with you,” I hum, my thoughts waking me quickly. It’s black and white from my birthday last year, pining away for him as he loved somebody else and ignoring his presents. 

No matter how hard I could try, I wouldn’t be able to remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a birthday as good as this one already is, and undoubtedly will be. 

“‘m so glad I get t’, bug, ‘s ‘bout time,” he yawns from behind me, stirring under the covers. I whine when his leg moves away from mine and takes its warmth with him. “I didn’t imagine ‘d be wakin’ you up in yer childhood bed, but here we are,” he giggles. “Tha first o’ many birthdays spent t’getha, babe.” 

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, propelled back to this day last year and how robbed I felt of a day that was supposed to be all about me and being happy. That was the last thing I was, it seemed, and it’s like a different life to think about that while Harry kisses the hollow below my ear. My boyfriend, who kicks off a blanket with a groan, a laugh rising from my lips as he complains about being hot.

“‘ve taken off all tha clothes I can and ‘m still bloody boilin.’ God, Becks, could ya be any mo’ o’ a heater, love?” he sighs and I only reply with a loud laugh that grows when his hands roam my body to tickle me. I find his sleepy face painted with a smile when I turn around to face his naked upper half, and it makes me wonder how he could ever be any more perfect than he already is. “What? ‘m sweatin’ over here,” he wheezes, carding a hand through his mess of curls while his eyes shine back at me. 

“Nothing, I just . . “

“You jus’ what, love?” he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair and stroking it away from my face. 

“I just, really love you,” I confess, watching the contentment blossom on his face to almost embarrassment. 

“I love you too, Rebecca Ann,” Harry beams with that contagious smile again, dipping forward to peck me. “More.” 

“No, I do!” I protest, fingering his gold cross necklace that’s warm in my fingers. “I love you most! There!” 

“Okay, okay,” he titters, batting a hand at me before pulling me into his chest. “‘ll let you have it, but only cuz ‘s yer birthday, my love,” he coos, surrounding me with his arms and covering my head in kisses. 

I silently roll my eyes but I know he hears my huff, “Don’t be a pout on yer birthday, jus’ be happy ‘m lettin’ you get yer way with e’rythin’,” he remarks, muffled against my cheek where his warm breath wafts over me. 

“Everything, you say?” I tease, and his intake of air eggs me on. 

“Oh, what d’ya want now?”

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I get whatever I want on my birthday, isn’t that what I told you on yours?”

“I don’t rememba those exact words, but yes, my girl can have whatever her heart desires on her birthday,” Harry responds softly, his eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against me. “What ‘s that li’l brain o’ yers cookin’ up now, huh?”

A laugh peeks out from my lips and he groans in response as I ready my proposal, sure he’s falling back asleep in my arms. 

“A baby,” I divulge, and begin to count the seconds after the words have met the air. 1 . . 2 . . 3. 

“‘Scuse me?” Harry exclaims, pulling away from me and looking at me with a wild pair of eyes. I find it so hard to hold it back when his green eyes widen further, accompanied by a sudden pallor to his face. “Rebecca Ann-,” he begins adamantly, but the moment the chuckle pours from my lips, he stops. “Woman, I swear- Jesus Christ, ya really are gonna gimme a heart attack one o’ these days.” 

“The look on your face, Harry! I wish you could’ve seen it,” I giggle profusely, only fed by the crimson appearance of his cheeks as he shakes his head. 

“You li’l smart ass, you,” he tuts, swiftly flipping onto his back and pulling me on top of him. “Y’know, ya kinda hafta be havin’ sex in order t’ have a baby, love, sumthin’ that doesn’t quite exist fer us yet,” Harry remarks with the cutest double chin from below me. I adjust myself lying on top of him so I’m not crushing his lungs, or well, his baby making junk. 

“Not yet, anyways,” I murmur with a smirk, enjoying the squirming he does at my words. He giggles and covers his face with both of his arms, exposing as well as hiding some of his tattoos. 

Propping my chin on my hand, my elbow finds a place on the mattress as my finger finds its way to his chest. I trace the numbers in my handwriting above his heart, so entirely grateful for this year and mostly all that it’s brought along with it. 

“Maybe one day I’ll have a baby with you.” 

I hear his wheezy laugh and the happy sigh, because they live inside of me too. His greens are stuck on me from between his peeking hands when I look over and my smile brightens. 

“If we’re havin’ kids, ‘s gonna be mo’ than one, ‘ll tell ya that right now, missy.” 

Somehow, my lips spread even wider, “How many then, Mr. Styles?” I pose aloud with a raise of my eyebrows at him. 

“Five.” 

“Harry!” I exclaim and he giggles from behind his hands that his eyes peek out from. At last, he drops them and peers across at me, making me believe in the cuteness that is triple chins. “Five children? Five mouths to feed, lunches to pack, activities to put them in, bedrooms, pairs of shoes, car seats, bums to change, new school clothes and well, new everything every year, and five babies for me to push out of my crotch?”

That really gets him going and soon, a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and from his lips, but I really couldn’t be complaining. It sparks one from mine too, and only makes me think of what it would be like to do this with him every morning. One day, with a swaddled baby lying to the side, or on his chest. What have I started now? 

“Yes, five . . Five kids t’ cuddle, make memories with, take on adventures, introduce Harry Potter t’, bake and cook with, watch grow and do great things, have mosey into our bed at night, maybe teach guitar or piano t’ one or two, teach ‘em so many things, and I hope they all have yer eyes and yer laugh . . Can you imagine all that love, Becks?” Harry says, dreaming aloud with an effervescent look in his eye that I’ve only seen a few times before. “Hey, don’t you do that on yer birthday,” he tuts, but I’ve already started and go to sniffle into the crook of his neck. “Did I say sumthin’ wrong? ‘m sorry if ‘s too soon and-.” 

“No, you said everything . . right,” I whisper against his neck, the absence of words letting me feel how it moves with every tick of his pulse. Gulping, I wait for him to answer, but I get it when he begins to hum our song amidst running races up and down my back with his hand. 

“Maybe one day- Wait, no. Not ‘maybe,’ hopefully one day,” Harry coos as I stare into the darkness, but this time I’m not afraid or fleeing. I could never feel anything but safe in his arms, and I know our children would too. “Mmmm, ‘m lovin’ tha cuddlin’, but holy shit, am I warm!” he continues, our skin sticking together as he separates from me between our laughs.

+

After a few trips to the bathroom between us, Harry plops onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. His lips sponge kisses along my cheek and his arms surround me, almost swallowing me with their span. 

“Well, are ya jus’ gonna stare at ‘em or go and open ‘em, bug?” he coos, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting at his words tickling my neck. Turning my head, my excited eyes connect with his, and he nods. “Go already,” he says, kissing me before I leave his arms. 

“Which one first?” I ask, crossing the bedroom to kneel in front of the line of gifts set before my dresser and our suitcases. 

“Whichever yer li’l heart desires,” he answers. I grab one of the smaller ones and look over to him. “Savin’ tha biggest one fer last, I see.” He folds his hands together, his long arms already turning golden this early in the summer, and so are his legs that his arms drape across. 

Giggling, I stand up and make a few trips to bring the presents to the bed. 

“Openin’ ‘em up here, are we?” Harry asks with dumbfounded astonishment gracing his tired features. 

“Mmmhmm,” is all I say as I settle onto his lap again, and relax when he wraps me up inside of his embrace. Tipping my head to rest on his shoulder, I stare down at the pink and purple flowers that branch across the crisp wrapping paper, and suddenly, it’s like for the second time. 

I’m not going to let it happen again. No, not sitting on the floor with his presents before me, and him so far away, if only a few steps. His chest rises and falls with rhythmic breaths and I remain there, moving my ear until I hear the song his heart plays, needing this to feel all the more real. A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. 

But it doesn’t. 

I blink and the tear falls, and his lips rest in my hair, waiting for me. His large hand leaves waves and blossoms against my back, and hopes and promises. I make them too, just as silently against him. I promise myself that I’ll never give up on him, and although he doesn’t know, I promise that to him too. 

“Open it up, bug, what’re you waitin’ fer? ‘m dyin’ with anticipation here!” 

Smiling, I lift my head and don’t waste any time finding his lips with my own, just because I can. He moans a sound against mine and holds onto me, and I know that he would never let me go, either.

No, not again. 

“What was that fer?” he breathes half a minute later, staring deep into me. 

“Just ‘cause,” I respond and he only smiles back at me, but then he tips his head to meet mine, resting his forehead on mine. He winks and brushes his nose against mine a few times in a different kind of kiss. 

“I hope I get anotha one o’ those afta ya open yer presents.” 

“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Styles,” I grin and he amplifies it with a snort, bumping his shoulder against mine to remind me of the present I hold, and his affable impatience.

+

Wrapping paper still litters the floor, so do purple bows, and Amazon boxes. The shadows of our mingled laughs pepper the air as his hair falls through my fingers, and his slow breaths are whispers against my skin. I let my head fall and my hair dance across his skin before my lips do, ever so gently. 

“Sweet dreams, love,” I barely whisper, careful to leave the bed without waking him. At the last second, I turn back and pull the comforter and quilt up his thighs covered in gray shorts, and past his bare shoulders. He’ll need it with his personal heater gone from his side, I think. 

Tip toeing across the room, I take careful steps around the pile of presents still sat by our suitcases. The elation and disbelief comes over me in another wave when I see them one by one, starting with the lilac colored Kitchenaid mixer. 

“Ya need it fer yer bakin’, love. I know tha kneadin’ part o’ recipes ‘s a bore, and yer handheld one was almost shot. We both know that. Maybe ‘m tellin’ you t’ bake fer me mo,’ I dunno,” he had laughed after my jaw had fallen to my chest, and his faced turned a proud crimson. 

“We’re already halfway in, might as well make sure we have tha whole boxset fer when we wanna rewatch it,” Harry told me after I had opened the large box with the five Friends’ faces on it, assuring me that it was just as much a present for him as it was for me. He had kept making it known that that was the theme, so I would stop complaining about him spoiling me too much. 

“I can’t take any credit fer that one, which ‘m quite sorry ‘bout, but mum wanted t’ knit ya sumthin’. Told her ya loved blankets, and here we are. Reckon I might have ya keep it at mine so I can steal it too,” runs through my head as I once again rub the chenille type yarn between my fingers at the end of the bed where the knit blanket lies. With a proud grin, I grab two corners and drape it over the sleeping man in my childhood, twin-sized bed, a dated McFly poster hanging over his head. 

“This one’s jus’ as much fer me as it ‘s fer you, too,” he kept saying, then for Paul McCartney’s second show at the O2, and then for another pair of tickets to his daughter Stella’s fashion show in just a few weeks.

The same phrase, give or take a few words, flowed from his lips when the bag of candles graced my hands. He explained that we nick so many candles from each other’s offices that it was only natural that he bought me some, seeing as how he’d be stealing some here soon, especially the Tobacco Vanilla, Whiskey Cedar, Sage and Lemon, and the highly coveted Cinnamon Roll one.

The cribbage board was just a bonus, him claiming that he could finally bring his office one home and keep mine at work for us to play on. 

What he couldn’t claim his rightful ownership to as well was the card full of unintelligible scribbles from Harper and Ollie, that thank the Gods, Gemma helped them write. The tears in my eyes since the first present grew and grew, and didn’t waver at the message of how Harper wanted to have a sleepover at Harry’s soon with me - nail painting, baking cookies, and all.

But, when I met his eyes with my sad, puppy dog pair, he melted right then and there.

“Harry, this is too much. I can’t accept all of this,” I had told him and he shook his head, lifting my own with his thumb to look in his eyes.

“Please, Becks. I-I hate t’ say it, but I have too much money than I know what t’ do with, and ‘ve been so excited to give you all of these. Don’t worry ‘bout tha money. Alright, my love?”

I gave in, and with the kisses he smothered me with, there was no way in hell I could say no to that face.

He stirs underneath the covers behind me, and so do my thoughts, but with a huff, Harry returns to snoring softly. I carefully open my suitcase and fish out my last clean outfit, and without a sound, walk across the hall and into the shower. 

I thought I had made out like a bandit, but when I slip back into my room in search of Post-Its and a pen, I find that somebody else is awake. 

“Where are you goin’, Becks?” they rasp, pulling themselves up to sit and the covers pool on his lap. Rubbing at his eyes, Harry cards a hand through his tousled curls, quickly yawning. 

“Oh, just to run an errand quick. Go back to bed, I won’t be gone long.” 

“Mmmm,” he groans, knuckling at his left eye. “Can’t it wait ‘til we leave this afternoon, bug? Y’know I can’t sleep without you, I get too cold, and miss havin’ you in me arms.” 

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry . . You’ll fall right back asleep, Harry, I promise,” I shush him, stepping forward and pressing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t fall back in any of the ways that I’d hoped. 

“I’ll come with, then. We can grab some pastries from that bakery you love fer brekky with yer dad.” 

“It’s okay, I will if you want. Please, Harry, go back to sleep. You were up late, you must have a headache from all of those drinks with Robbie. I dunno why you pair had to have a shots competition,” I insist, and my distraction makes a raspy laugh fall from his mouth. 

“I like yer brotha, y’know, he’s a funny git,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down his face once before pulling back the covers. “Can I come? ‘ll be mo’ awake after I have a shower.” 

“I dunno,” I nervously laugh, tucking a wet lock of hair behind my ear. Huffing, I smooth down the floral skirt of my dress and sit on the edge of my bed. Thoughts whizz around in my head, flying to that destination and the next, but this one isn’t sure where to go. 

“If ya really don’t want me t’, ‘s okay. ‘m sorry t’ pressure ya, babe.” 

“It’s okay, Harry. I’d like you to come, but . . I dunno,” I reveal, toying with the ring and starting at the corner of my eye, I watch his hands still my pair that wring each other. 

“Don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna, I trust you y’know.” 

Nodding, I wonder how I had ever gotten so damn lucky with this one. A split second giggle tickles at my lips, and then the toying turns into twirling, and then, telling. 

“She would’ve been eighty-five today, I think,” the whisper fights to make itself known, and I can’t meet his eyes, but I think I hear it in his breathing when he connects the dots. The spinning of the ring, and the tracing of the flower, frozen in time. “I bring her flowers every year, just wildflowers I find on the side of the road. I’ve wanted to bring a cupcake and sing before blowing it out, but it seemed odd to eat it sitting there, when she can’t,” I continue, the frog jumping into my throat at the end there. 

His words are absent, but they’re the least bit of that and so is my surprise when my head meets his shoulder, and his fingers trickle through my hair. 

“You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to,” I pipe up, grabbing hold of the smooth chain around his neck. The swallows beckon for me, and I trace their wings slowly, wondering how silky they’d feel if they were alive on his chest. 

“I’d like t’ come with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” I respond, my thumb and finger holding onto the cross when my arms go around his neck, and he lifts me onto his lap. 

“I wish I coulda met her, yer Grandma Ann . . but bringin’ flowers t’ her grave sounds rather special too. Yer tha sweetest, Becks, y’know that?” 

“So do I, she would’ve loved you,” I say, watching the tear glide down the slope of his back, and past the golden hairs lit by the sunrise behind the curtains. 

“Does yer dad go with you?”

“Sometimes, maybe he will today.” 

“‘d like that,” Harry coos, drawing the letters of my name, one by one, along my spine. I only know that because he’d told me last night when I couldn’t fall asleep, and he was happily buzzed.

I think that’s why I couldn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?

+

“Ya mean it, tha best ever? In tha whole, entire history o’ birthdays, ever and ever?” they titter and its feeling against my cheek brings one forth onto my lips. 

“You’re so silly, but yes. I had an amazing birthday, Harry. One to remember.” 

“Good, bug. ‘m glad t’ hear. Only tha best fer me favourite girl,” he coos, dragging his nose along my cheek. 

“Maybe next year for my birthday you can grow your hair out again for my birthday present.” 

“Oh, really? That’s whatcha want? Hmm, I was thinkin’ o’ givin’ you a baby fer yer twenty-eighth,” he giggles, the rich smell of coffee hinting on his breath. Now, it’s my turn to giggle and I share it into his neck, our chests bumping when he pulls me closer. I steal a kiss from his swallow and nuzzle in deeper as he drapes the blanket his mum knitted for me over us, sinking further into his sofa. 

“Stop it with the baby talk, marriage comes first, dumbo.” 

“Fine then, ‘ll getchu a ring fer yer birthday,” he continues and I hide my reddening cheeks in the place between his shoulder and neck. Monica laughs at something on the TV behind us, but my focus darts to the melodic kisses he sponges along my neck, and his nose nudging at my shirt. 

“Shush it, I’m not going anywhere,” I insist, revealing my scarlet cheeks to his smiling eyes. 

“Better not, I dunno what ‘d do if ya did.” 

“It’s a good thing neither of us have to worry about that, huh?” I return, tapping my finger on his nose. He nods and brushes his thumb under my eye where he often traces the imperfection that lives there. 

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ mo’ weekends at yer Dad’s. It was loads o’ fun gettin’ t’ see where ya grew up, tha house ya grew up in, yer old schools, tha park at tha pond, and bloody hell, that night out back by tha bonfire,” he says, words falling into a sound of happiness. “I can’t remember tha last time I had so much Tequila. Fook, can that brotha o’ yers drink, and yer dad too. And that pizza yer dad made, ugh, ‘m gonna need anotha one o’ those soon. I miss playin’ board games so much like that, I see where ya get tha love o’ it from. I ‘specially loved playin’ on yer family piano with you, reckon we might make a good pair if we practice some mo’.” 

Giggling, I agree with him as my fingers mingle with his necklace, “Yeah, it was a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.” 

“Reckon so, and I couldn’t be gladder to hear that, bug. Remember last year’s wasn’t tha best, you’ve said. I hope they only get betta and betta, my love,” Harry croons, and I nod, sure that they will. 

It all seems to be a hill that I get to climb by his side, but it’s the least bit tiring, and all the more exhilarating with every step that I take. 

[jawnjendes]

don’t want your hand this time | shawn mendes

chapter 1/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: i know i know i posted a thing yesterday but UUUHHHHH im just tryna get to the saucy parts of this bc SOMEBODY decided to be all hot n sexy in a certain music video ANYWAY this is just an intro chapter of sorts and we are introducing some new characters!! lmk your thoughts thots!

***let me know if u wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

When Annalise Flores has shit to do within a time limit, she forgets about everything else. Her phone goes on silent, she ignores her other obligations, and she makes sure to get whatever is in her focus done. This has proven to be disastrous in the past, like when Annalise just needed to clean the entire dorm before starting any homework assignment was due the next day. Or when she reorganized the filing closet at the dealership before adding up the gas receipts she was ordered to do. You get the idea.

Annalise was very determined to get all of her unopened boxes, and her clothes to fit in her tiny, beat up car so she didn't have to make multiple trips, given how far campus is from Shawn's apartment. He promised he would help her move when he got home, he had that huge Jeep after all, but Annalise was way too antsy. Besides, they already fought about this, and she didn't want to start anything all over again. She didn't want him to feel obligated to help if only one of them was into the idea of her moving out.

After pushing on the car door three times, it finally clicked shut. Annalise successfully managed to stuff all of her clothes and half her boxes into the backseat. The rest of the boxes were in the trunk. The windows were all covered, so maybe she wouldn't be able to see her blind spots, but at least Annalise wouldn't have to make a second trip. She silently thanked the Tetris gods for blessing her with the appropriate skills as she went back up to the apartment.

Shawn's living space didn't look that different with all of Annalise's belongings out. Most of it was all stashed into the "recording" room over the summer, and neither of them spent any time in there. There was more space in the closet now, too. It was no longer just a black abyss, and all of Shawn's belongings were now undisturbed. Annalise debated smuggling out his black Nike hoodie, but given the circumstances it was best to leave everything as it was. The apartment didn't look any different really, but Annalise still felt an ache from her throat down to the bottom of her feet as she removed the spare key from her chain and left it on the glass dining table. This was easier than saying goodbye to him in person.

~

Campus was nowhere near as quiet and lonely as the apartment. Students were running around like headless chickens, trying to locate buildings, schedules, and friends. She already had a key to her dorm, so she parked near her building and carried her backpack and two boxes up the walkway. Annalise's resting bitch face and the clunk of her boots on the ground gave her less of a struggle to push past other students. Weak and fragile as she was these last couple of months, she's still got it.

The dorm building wasn't too far from the last one she lived in, but it was going to be a bitch getting to her classes. Maybe she should invest in a bike… or she should get her shit together and take the bus.

Annalise's new dorm was on the third floor, and it was furnished. Weird, yes, but she was not going to complain. It was a bit smaller, but not cramped. There was a tiny hallway between the two bedrooms, and one cramped bathroom. She noticed one room already had boxes sitting on the floor, and she couldn't help but get just a little excited. Stella hadn't completely abandoned her. Annalise wasn't even mad about their three month long silence, she was just happy that she would be seeing a familiar face.

She didn't run into Stella at all during the multiple trips she took bringing all her stuff in. Annalise knew she was here, though. Her perfume scent was always left behind in any room she had been in, and Annalise definitely caught the scent in the dorm. The same amount of boxes were still in her room by the time Annalise finished bringing all of her's in. She figured she could have texted Stella, but she kind of wanted to surprise her… even though they both knew about the other.

She checked her phone anyway. The only text she had was from Shawn.

"How come you didn't wait for me?"

Pursing her lips and smudging the signature black lipstick, Annalise cleared the notification and went to sit in the armchair in the living room. She was way too tired to try to reason with him. She certainly couldn’t jump into the "I miss you" crap so quickly either. She didn't want to, but Shawn obviously did when he sent another text. Out of sheer habit, Annalise opened the notification instead of clearing it, and she cursed under her breath.

"You've been gone only a few hours and this place already feels so sad and empty. Why did you leave your key?"

Yeah, she left him on read. She didn't know what else to say to him.

Thankfully, the lock on the door jiggled and in came Stella carrying a large cardboard box. She gasped and her hazel eyes lit up when she saw her dark natured roommate. She quickly squatted down and set the box on the floor before coming at Annalise with open arms.

"Mi esposa hermosa!"

Annalise will never say this out loud, but Stella gives wonderful hugs. They two girls haven't seen each other in over three months, so getting a nice tight hug was something that was really needed. They rocked from side to side, giggling at the motions. It was like nothing had really changed.

"When did I become your wife?" Annalise asked, amused as she leaned back to look at her.

"When we decided to live together for the third year in a row!" Stella replied. “Oh you got a little…” Her thumb rubbed under Annalise’s lip, showing her the black.

“The struggles of being goth,” she joked.

Stella giggled, and then the rambling began. "How are you? I'm so sorry we didn't talk much over the summer. Did you stay with Shawn the whole summer? Oh, is he here?" She bounced on her feet, looking around the dorm.

"Uh yeah, I did stay with him the entire time," she told her. "And no, he's not here. He's working."

Annalise knew he wasn't. He had found her abandoned key, which meant he was home. And he was probably sulking. And he was going to sleep alone...

"But he'll be here later, right?" Stella asked, nudging her arm. "Y'all are gonna christen your room, eh?"

She really had to ask, didn't she? She really had to jokingly ask a question that would change the expression on Annalise's face, thus warning her of the things that had happened. She wasn't sure why she kept an obviously fake smile on her face as she silently stared at her roommate. The silence alone wasn't enough, apparently.

Normally, Stella would dramatically gasp, sit her down, and ask Annalise to spill every detail. Instead, she sighed.

"Fill me in while you help me bring my stuff up."

~

Classes and club meetings resumed within the next couple of days, so it gave Annalise plenty of excuses to keep her texts to Shawn dismissive and short. She knew he was coming and going from campus for class too, but due to their different majors, he was going to be very far away from her. Not to mention, he didn't know where her new dorm was located, so it wasn't like he could track her down.

Except… Annalise had to retake biology. She knew Shawn was at the science building quite often, and she had hoped her bio lab fell on a day that he was at the fine arts building. But you know, life just happens, and sometimes you see your mans between classes. Sometimes you just see him leaving classroom, towering over the other students because he’s a giant. Maybe you’ll see him with a very short girl at his side, and they’re both laughing at something. Maybe he won’t see you either because he’s balls deep in banter with this random girl.

There was a lump in Annalise’s stomach following that minor event, and it made her anxious and uneasy for the first day of that class. Still, she was determined to stay on board with the separation they both agreed on. It was better that way for now. She didn't know about Shawn, but Annalise fully intended on keeping the distance, suspicious-looking friends be damned.

Anyway, she could find friends of her own too. Gaming club meetings started up again that Friday, and it was something to look forward to. After god knows how long, Annalise attended said meeting after receiving an email from the head of the club, Josh. He and his friend, Paul, ran the club most of the time. They managed to get plenty of people to sign up during the rush earlier in the week but only seven of them actually attended the first meeting. Just like every year.

Both Josh and Paul were scrawny blond boys with "nice guy" complexes. They were polite for the most part, given that they inducted Annalise into the club the moment she signed up. But they also quizzed her on just about every popular, mainstream video game there was once they realized she would actually be showing up to the meetings. It took time, and a bit of Annalise telling them off, but they were civil towards each other now.

"Annalise!" called Chad as the lady herself entered the classroom in the communications building. He was another member, and he had his two frat bros with him, Kyle and Jared, and they both chanted her name in their deep, manly voices.

All different heights, but same amount of insane muscle. For lack of better words, these guys were meatheads with good intentions. Chad was a student with one of the highest GPA on campus, practically competing with Josh. Kyle was the star student in his major, sports medicine. Jared was that guy who beat up bigots as a hobby. All three of them were fully dedicated to their fraternity, Sigma Chi.

Then there was Patrick, who nodded to Annalise as a greeting. She nodded back and took the empty seat next to him in the circle.

The people who think Annalise Flores is a complete hardcore goth have not met Patrick Markowski. This was a guy who was always decked out in leather, ripped jeans, and black eyeliner. He had a proper faux hawk, which is what made people notice him the most. He typically surrounded himself with other goths, unlike Annalise. He was truly dedicated to the lifestyle, while she deviated from even that sometimes. This was the only guy in the club Annalise was actually friends with.

Anyway, all seven of these nerds shared the same appreciation for video games, which brought them all together in a circle, in an empty classroom, in the communications building this evening. However, Annalise's entrance caused the guys to deviate from the main topic.

Josh and Paul had been staring at her with their mouths open the second she entered the room. The Frats were visibly excited and each gave her a high five. Patrick merely stayed quiet and smiled.

"Heard you almost fucking died!" Chad told her. "And you didn't tell a single one of us!"

"I thought you had actually died," Josh spoke up. "Since you never miss a meeting and all."

So that got around. Cool.

“I wasn’t dying,” Annalise said, rolling her eyes. “I just had part of my colon surgically removed.”

“No way…” Jared said in wonder.

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” said Paul with a gag. He brought the collar of his red Pizza Planet shirt over his mouth.

The Frats stared at Annalise in awe, almost impressed by her vague explanation. She really didn’t understand the fascination, given everything that happened during and after the hospital. Of course, they knew nothing about any of that. At the same time, Annalise was annoyed at Paul’s dramatic reaction, so she kept talking.

“It might happen to you too if you don’t take care of yourself and listen to your body,” she told him. “Or worse, you could end up with a bag of your poop attached to your belly.”

Paul gagged again, much louder this time. Then Annalise decided that that was enough and directed the conversation to the club’s main topic: video games.

“So who’s played Team Sonic Racing?”

It was only the first meeting, so the group made a plan to bring their Switches and play next time. The Nice Guys prompted to play a round of Fortnite online later, but Annalise was not up for that game in the slightest. Too mainstream. Too chaotic. She never could get into it.

“Well, we can play without you,” Paul suggested, “not everyone has to join in.”

“Isn’t that a rule, though?” Patrick asked pointedly. “If we’re gonna play something together, we all have to agree on one game. Besides, I don’t play Fortnite either.”

Paul's eyes darted around, trying to look for a counterargument, but he sighed. “Fine. Anyone else got any suggestions?”

“What about a D&D campaign?” Annalise said. “Or some type of board game?”

Josh scoffed. “It’s video game club. Besides, me and Paul already have a campaign with our other friends.”

“‘Course you do,” she mumbled, folding her arms.

“Ooo! I got an idea!” Kyle spoke up, raising his massive hand. “We should hit up Bart. That bar with the art and retro games?”

Annalise perked up. Finally, someone with a brain cell. “I participated in a Smash Bros tournament there. It’s really fun, we should all go one weekend.”

“A bar?” Josh said in distaste.

“Yeah! It’ll be a class field trip or something!” Chad agreed. “It’s awesome, bro! They got a Gamecube and an N64! Sometimes they do karaoke night, but only with songs from different games!”

Then, Kyle looked at Annalise with a smirk. “Bet your boyfriend would perform there, eh?”

Even when she was far away from him, Shawn still had a presence wherever she went. “Heh, maybe…”

Luckily, none of these guys were the type to hover. The subject went back to going to Bart one weekend, and then the group chat was revived to discuss further adventures. Once the meeting was adjourned, Patrick followed me out the door.

“So, Annie. No offense or anything,” he said, walking in step beside her as they walked down the corridor, “but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“My summer was great, thanks,” Annalise said, too busy glancing at her phone to cringe at that awful nickname. No new messages for once.

“Nah, seriously. You were in the fucking hospital, and I find out through Snapchat?” he asked seriously. “Did you even tell anybody? What the hell happened?”

She didn’t remember posting anything about her hospital stay anywhere on social media. However, the only two people who were there with her were social media freaks. Stella was the type to tweet every single one of her brain farts, and frequently Snap where she was every second. Shawn was less active on his platforms, but he was still quite popular in the Toronto area, so he had a sizeable following. Annalise knew he took a picture of his hand holding hers while she was in the hospital at least once. Maybe it made it to his Instagram story a couple of times.

Sighing, Annalise gave Patrick the gist of her exciting adventure with her large intestine. Some underlying guilt wanted to be felt as she recalled staying and Shawn’s for so long, but she decided to spare those details.

“Looked death in the face, eh?” he said, nodding in what looked like approval. “Badass.”

She chuckled. “Guess I wasn’t ready to be yeeted off this mortal coil.”

“Ugh, you use the word yeet? How much has that guy changed you?” Patrick stuck his tongue out at her, flashing the piercing he had on the muscle.

“Hey, I’m more down with the kids than he is.”

The pair were quiet as they made it out to the courtyard. The night was chilly and cloudy, the only light coming from the lampposts on either side of the walkway. It felt different knowing Annalise was with only a friend rather than her mans, and she tried to ignore the ache in her chest and the urge to talk about him.

“Do you remember what it was like?” Patrick asked after a minute. “Being so close to death?”

“Nope,” she replied simply. “Although, when I was under, I had a really vivid dream that my… uh, Shawn cheated on me.” Way to not talk about him.

“You sure it was a dream?”

They were passing by one of the picnic tables, where Patrick pointed to. There was a group of people standing around the table, and two people sitting on top of it. One of those people was Shawn with his acoustic guitar. He was singing with the girl who was sitting next to him, the same one he was walking with at the science building. It wouldn’t have seemed weird if Patrick hadn’t said what he said. It would have been left alone if Annalise hadn’t thought about that stupid fever dream.

“Come on,” she said to Patrick as she stalked off towards the group.

“I was joking!” he said with a laugh.

Still, Annalise walked with a purpose and he followed her. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and kept her chin up as she made herself apart of the tiny audience. It was quite the sight, two nerds decked out in all black and heavy eyeliner amongst a group of normals watching two other normals sing a pop song. No lie, Annalise just wanted to get a look at this girl she had never seen before.

Olive skin. Black, curly hair. Very short next to her guy. Very pretty voice coming out of very pretty lips. She looked at Shawn and he looked back at her as they sang an eerily familiar song. Musically speaking, they seemed good together.

“I’ll leave you with the memory, and the aftertaste…”

The tiny audience clapped. Patrick was nodding in pleasant surprise, probably having never heard Shawn’s songs before. Annalise applauded as well, but she couldn’t help the narrowing of her eyes as she watched Shawn and this girl high five each other.

They were both comfortable with all the attention, it was easy to see. Shawn was beaming in a way that hadn’t been seen in a long time, and then he laid eyes on Annalise. He still had that smile on his face, even though it faltered a little bit. She kept her face neutral and quirked her eyebrows at him as a silent greeting.

“Should I leave you guys alone?” asked Patrick as he and Annalise watched Shawn get down from the table top.

“No,” she replied simply.

She almost regretted having him stay. He had to witness Shawn and Annalise attempt to figure out how to greet each other. A side hug would have been awkward for reasons not only having to do with the guitar strapped to his shoulder. She definitely couldn’t kiss him, because that would have started something she had been trying to distance herself from. They finally settled for a mildly uncomfortable handshake, and Shawn kept holding her hand as he spoke.

It had been almost a week since Ann moved out, and she only sent him one text in that time span. It was the black heart emoji. Better than nothing, but not better than seeing her in person.

“You haven’t answered my texts,” Shawn told her. If she was going to decide when she'll give him attention, then he wasn't going to beat around the bush when he saw her.

“I’ve been busy,” Ann replied, feebly attempting to shake her hand away.

Shawn nodded, but he wasn't thoroughly convinced. Between work and school, Ann was a hermit. Or so he thought, given that she now had this new goth dude at her side. “So, who’s your friend?”

“Who’s yours?” she quickly said back.

“I’m Patrick!” said Patrick, holding out his hand. “Annie and I go way back!”

Shawn let go of her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you, brother. Wait… Annie?” He chuckled.

Her cheeks heated up, and she decided to move her eyes somewhere else, specifically on Shawn’s unnamed singing partner. She was chatting with some of the other people still around the table. Annalise noticed she talked with her hands a lot.

“She lets me call her that even though she hates it,” Patrick said, snapping her back into the moment. “Right, Annie?”

“Do not,” she warned. Then she looked at Shawn. “So who’s the chick you’re singing with?”

Shawn took in an almost reluctant deep breath as he turned and called the girl over. If there was anything he had yet to discover, it had to be if his girl was the jealous type.

Annalise's dark brown eyes narrowed once again while he wasn’t looking. Call it anxiety or paranoia, but she was oddly suspicious. Patrick caught the glare though, and he nudged her arm to snap her out of it.

“Ann, Patrick, this is Alessia,” Shawn said when the very short girl joined them. “She’s a first year. Alessia, this is my…” He elongated the vowel. “Annalise. And her friend Patrick.”

Okay, so… a sinking feeling in the tummy. That’s what that felt like. Couldn’t be mad, though. Annalise wasn’t so quick to use the boyfriend word these days.

“You’re Annalise!” Alessia said in pleasant surprise. She did not hesitate to hug her, arms going around her shoulders and practically pulling her down to her level. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Honestly, Annalise was just glad she didn’t call her the goth girlfriend. Or the goth anything, for that matter. She didn’t hug Patrick, though, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how did you two meet?” Annalise prompted. So maybe she was a little more than curious to know how and when Shawn found the time to get another girl at his side.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shawn replied a little too quickly.

His eyes bored into hers, throwing them into a staredown. He broke through the fake, polite smile Ann had on. Of course he broke it. He was the only one who could. However, Shawn couldn't read the expression she had on. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not, happy or not… He couldn't tell if she wanted to change her mind about this separation or not… Ten months together and Ann was still a mystery.

“Uh, Shawn and I have like, every class together,” Alessia said slowly, looking between the couple, noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. She scratched the back of her head.

“Annie and I have been in the same club for two years,” Patrick added in the same tone. He too noticed the tension.

“Oh, which club? There’s some I’ve been checking out…”

Those two kept up the conversation. Shawn’s gaze on Annalise made her throat close up. He wasn’t smiling or feigning politeness anymore. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard and glossed over. Inexplicable guilt began to form in her chest yet again. She knew he didn’t understand.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @yourdelightfullyleft @shawmndes @havethetimeeofyourlifee @calyumthomas

[mirai-eats]

Stray Spring:: Dance (Summer Romance)

Snufmin, 4,673 words, part 2/5

flower symbolism bc thats how i work i dont change, Fluff, Romance, so soft it hurts, Light Angst, Sickfic, Spring Deity Snufkin, little my is a demigod???

A deity borne of spring and summer can’t leave Moominvalley alone.

read on AO3

Moomin had a hard time getting himself out of bed today and that bothered him since today was an important day. Mamma didn’t scold him for stumbling down the stairs well into breakfast, but only wished him a good morning and gently told him to have those midnight adventures on days he doesn’t need to get up early.

Sniff was charged with distracting Little My and taking her up to a rural spot in Lonely Mountain where Snufkin had buried a box of rocks for her to find. Meanwhile, it was up to the Moomins and every spare hand to set up the extravagant party to celebrate the new season and Little My’s new age. Moomin didn’t know how old she was, and every time he asked something would always interrupt. He gave up asking and resorted to counting the candles on her cake.

The party was going to be lovely, Moomin thought. Long tables were set out with summer flowers and stakes with paper lanterns framed the perimeter they set up, strings of lights draped the trees and strung over their heads as an imitation of stars. Mamma was cooking with vigor in the kitchen, preparing enough food to keep the whole valley full through winter. In the meantime, Mamma had set out heaping plates of juicy, red watermelon and sweet berry juice for people setting up the party. Moomin took a few slices and ran down to Mr. Hemulen’s where Snufkin was helping him pick flowers to decorate.

“This is very delicious, thank you Moomintroll,” Snufkin said after chewing thoughtfully on the melon.

“You’re welcome, now let’s haul these over so we can get them on the tables and chairs. Little My is due back soon!”

It was no walk in the park bringing so many flowers in the wheelbarrows. It was a miracle they got them all placed in time right before they heard the large shouts of Little My coming from just beyond.

“Everyone get in place! She’s coming!” Pappa clapped his paws and on cue, everyone rushed to stand in attention, facing the hill Little My will climb to the top of and see the party waiting for her.

“Mymble isn’t here yet, what do we do?” Pappa fretted, his hat tilted askew in his frantic movement.

“She will come, it’ll be a grand surprise on top of this surprise when her mother comes,” Mamma soothed.

---

The party was going well, very well, but the Moomin’s were still eyeing the path from the beach waiting for The Mymble to arrive. She’ll come when she comes, Snufkin thought.

Snufkin didn’t want to admit it, but he was rather nervous himself. He kept to himself at the fringe of the party, in which most, if not all, of Moominvalley, showed up for. The record player Moominpappa had successfully fixed up was playing joyful tunes into the sweet, summer air as the day slowly cooled as the night struggled to blanket the horizons. This was the longest day of the year and sunset didn’t come until the party reached its peak, when the music grew the loudest and drinks splashed refill after refill into cups. Little My had stuck a little cosmo from the table display into her bun as if it were her crown and swung around in the middle of it all, her laughter loud and smile even louder.

It’s when the sun touched the tops of the forests and the sky was a rich gold with strands of rosy pink did a parade arrive. Thirty-four children with hair red like Little My’s and screams somehow louder than hers rushed from the beach trail and over to the party, in the midst of their chaos rose the imposing figure of their mother.

The Mymble was eccentric, a presence so loud and bright it’s hard to ignore, especially how she was taller than even the tallest hemulen. Her red hair was messy atop her head, where little baby’s breath flowers were scattered like sparse snow and her eyes glittered like sunshine on the greenest lake surface. The air felt sweeter in her presence, cooler like a gentle spring breeze dripping with honeysuckle petals. Little My leaped with a shout and ran into her mother’s embrace, her big arms holding her tightly to her chest. The party grew louder, more rambunctious, fit for a Little My with too much energy crammed in that very little body.

From the fringe of the party, Mymble’s eyes landed on Snufkin. This was the first time she’s seen him since he was placed in a basket and sent down the river. He tipped his hat and turned away.

---

He wasn’t mad at her. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at her for letting him go when he was so young. He grew up fine, he never pined for the affections of a mother or the guidance of a father. He knew what his mother and father were, but when Moominpappa placed a name and face to their beings, shaped their characters through his stories, he ached something sharp like a cold pick of winter ice drilled into his heart.

It was a surprise when it wasn’t Moomintroll who found him first, but The Mymble. Overwhelmed with the party, he had dove into the forest and climbed up a maple tree thick with green leaves. The summer breeze hit him just right, and from here he can watch the sun tiptoe the horizon and paint the sea a brilliant, hazy orange that drove the warmth of the day away.

“Snufkin,” she said.

He nodded in acknowledgment and lit his pipe, letting the smoke waft into the air and fill the thick silence with its odor, the sweet smell of daisies and poppies on his hat was blanketed under a smokey curtain.

“You’ve become quite the deity, haven’t you,” she settled herself on the ground under his tree, her voice rising into the air as if caught by a breeze and sailed up to his perch.

“You couldn’t have done anything for me, could you?” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. I can’t raise a spirit. Those children are all demigods and I enjoy watching them grow, but you aren’t a demigod. You won’t grow like them.”

“Little My?”

“Is like them, and so is my eldest. You’re one of a kind, Snufkin.” A sigh left her lips and it was as if the whole forest took a breath of fresh air. The leaves seemed greener, the air fresher, and the gentle sweetness of the most fragrant flora, of soft sweet peas and mysterious wisteria, star-light jasmine and plump gardenias. It was as if spring came back once more for another round. Snufkin looked down from his perch and saw The Mymble as she truly is- a goddess of spring.

Flowers bloomed and died in her hair, petals dripped like soft snow onto her shoulders and the green grass that’s sprouted out around her. The collar of fur was replaced with a wreath of greenery and flowers oozing their sweet scent, her coat was now a shifting robe that seemed to have been woven from the silkiest petals. She looked up to where Snufkin lounged in the tree, her round face glowing with light only one not of this world can possess.

Snufkin lifted his robe of glamour, the scruffy Snufkin in a coat too old to count the years of and boots worn to the thinnest soles were replaced by his robes of shimmering green. His hat bloomed all sorts of flowers, from the smallest, palest buds to the brightest, largest petals. He descended from the tree with a graceful leap, draped in spring nature, falling far too high to be safe and landed gently on the freshly grown grass, his bare feet hitting the cool blades.

“What of The Joxter, my father?” Snufkin asked.

“A minor god, the personification of a lazy summer day,” she nodded. “It’s why you reign strongest in the spring and summer where the flowers bloom brightest and the sun is the warmest. You spend your days idly and freely, amongst the root of trees and grassy meadows and wherever you go, you bring spring with you.”

She looked up where he stood before him. Even sitting, he was only barely taller than her. “You need to leave earlier than that, my son. I heard from the Moomins you hang around here through the autumn. That can harm you, and it can harm the balance of nature.”

“I know.”

“Then leave as soon as the trees start to shudder and the flowers start to grow smaller. You need to bring your music to the south where the sun sits high in the sky.”

“I will.”

Her eyes narrowed, unbelieving of him. Towers of delphiniums started growing around her, pale blue and pink trumpets of flowers unraveling and reaching for their sun, their spring goddess. Pops of tiny daisies sprung at their feet and brushed up against Snufkin’s bare ankles. “You will. I don’t know if you know this, but if you linger too long in one place, you may perish.”

“I know.” He was starting to sound like a broken record, skipping over select words that would appease his mother. But he knew, he understood the risk of staying too close to winter in Moominvalley. He did it once before because Moomintroll asked him to stay until the winter solstice for their feast so he won’t miss him too terribly when he left. He was ill then, and could barely touch his food, and almost didn’t make it out of Moominvalley before the snow started to really come down. Moomintroll has tried since then to have him stay a little longer, sighing loudly, despondently, into the autumn air. He caved and stayed, and he almost died.

“Don’t do it again. For each time you do, you will grow weaker faster.”

A shout of his named echoed through the forest. A flock of birds rose from the trees and scattered into the orange horizon, the sun swallowed by the midnight blue.

Moomintroll rounded the corner and spotted Snufkin. “There you are! Are you alright? You disappeared during the party.”

“I’m okay, just a little overwhelmed with the number of people,” Snufkin said.

“Oh wow! These are gorgeous!”

The Mymble had disappeared, leaving the patch of jewel-green grass and the stocks of delphiniums at the base of the tree. Snufkin had dropped his glamour back on, his boots crushing the grass and the daisies on his hat matched the ones by Moomin’s feet. Moomintroll did not see a thing. “Aren’t they lovely? They’re called delphinium.”

“They are.” Moomin picked a couple of little daisies and stuck them in the wreath of flowers on Snufkin’s hat. “Do you want to be alone right now?”

Snufkin shook his head. “We can go to the beach and take a walk. I’m just tired of the party.”

Moomintroll’s eyes lit up, a mischevious sparkle that seemed a little too excited for a simple moonlit stroll on the beach.

“Can I show you something instead?”

---

They stole a lantern from the party when no one was looking and traipsed up the forest path. Snufkin realized it was the direction Moomintroll had been sneaking off too for months now.

“What do you want to show me?” Snufkin prodded.

“It’s a surprise.” Moomintroll was practically vibrating.

They reached a bend in the trail and Moomintroll went off the path, over a bushel of bright, yellow yarrow, and down a secret worn path that wound through the trees. He suddenly stopped at the base of a sturdy oak tree. He pushed aside some broken branches piled up at the bottom and revealed a rope ladder dangling down the side of the tree.

“What is this, Moomintroll?” Snufkin asked. He looked up and between the thick branches he could make out wooden boards.

“I built us a secret base,” Moomintroll said, his voice barely able to contain his excitement. “I read a book about spies having secret bases hidden in plain sight, where they can meet and plot their next missions. I thought it would be cool if we had a secret place, too.”

“Oh, Moomintroll, it’s fantastic.” Snufkin’s heart swelled with something warm. A moment of fear iced his veins, that this was Moomintroll asking him to stay forever, but this was a treehouse, a place for them alone and not an actual house. He needn’t read too deeply into the meaning of all this.

“Let’s go, let’s go! You haven’t even seen the best of it yet!” Moomintroll ushered him up the ladder. It took them through a square hole cut out of a wooden platform, buried in the oak branches and green leaves. There was no way someone could see this place from below, and with the thick tree coverage, it was hard to see it coming from the forest path unless someone was looking for it.

The house was a simple box that was morphed around a sturdy branch. The door was a little high off the ground, and there were curtains patterned with summer yellow sunflowers (definitely Moominmamma’s work). The cabin was small, a little rickety for comfort, but Snufkin adored it. The little chairs at the table, a basket of snacks, a worn map from Moominpappa, a bouquet of small sunflowers and pale purple cosmos sat in a vase Snufkin remembered Moomintroll made when he was briefly into pottery, the sides bumpy with paw marks and the smear of bright blues made it personal. Moomin lit the oil lamp on the table and filled the small space with a wonderful warm glow. The blue light left from the twilight was chased away with the golden candlelight.

“This is wonderfully cozy,” Snufkin said as he settled down into one of the chairs. He peaked out from behind the window curtain and could see the main forest path between the branches of their tree. “Perfect for spying, but I’m afraid at night someone will see our light.”

“Then we’ll have to be extra careful and only come when everyone’s asleep,” Moomintroll said. He took the seat across from Snufkin and pulled out a book from a box under the table. “Let me show you the book that inspired me to make this!”

---

Little My bobbed through the tall stocks of gladiolus, a bundle held in her small arms. With her size, it was as if she was carrying lumber, not pink and yellow flowers. She emerged from the stocks and ran full sprint toward Moominhouse, where Moominmamma was trimming the stems of gladiolus and placing them in long vases.

“Thank you, Little My, that will be plenty for now,” Moominmamma said kindly, taking the new bundle from Little My. “Can you deliver this vase to Mrs. Fillyjonk?” She handed Little My a vase almost as tall as her with a spry of artfully arranged flowers, a red bow tied around the slim neck of the bottle.

“Sure thing! Don’t get mad if I spill!” Little My leaped from the porch and teetered down the walkway toward Mrs. Fillyjonk’s house, the water sloshing dangerously in the vase and her arms burned but she refused to put it down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a Moomintroll-white shape flitter in the corner of her eye. She quietly placed the vase down on the side of the road and scanned the treeline where she saw it.

There! Darting between the trees was Moomintroll, his own armload of gladiolus flowers clutched close to his chest, the red pedals bobbing with his steps. The flowers won’t die if they waited out in the sun for a bit, Little My thought to herself and ran after him.

She stayed far enough away he wouldn’t be able to hear him, but close enough to keep him within sight. They wound through the trees, going off and on trails and pushing through bushes. He stopped suddenly at the bank of a river, a waterfall feeding into the quickly moving water. Snufkin sat at the shore, a bucket next to him and his fishing rod posed in his hand. Branches of green leaves and fern dripped from his hat, the single white dahlia poking from the side was like a beacon amongst the green. Moomintroll came up behind him and plucked a bud of red gladiolus and stuck it in his hat brim. The roar of the waterfall hid their words and Little My scooted closer to catch what they were talking about.

She heard “secret base” and lost face. She hopped from behind the bush and shouted, “And what are you two up to?!”

Moomintroll jumped in surprise and Snufkin turned and tipped his hat in greeting. “Little My, hello.”

“Hello to you, too. What are you talking about?” She asked again.

Moomintroll seemed to be sweating under all his fur, his eyes darting everywhere but Little My. “Nothing much, I wanted to show Snufkin the flowers you and Mamma picked.” Liar.

She tried again, badgering them for good answers, but she only got vague remarks. She got bored, as Moomintroll was giving Snufkin big cow eyes as he fished and Snufkin kept sneaking longing glances at Moomintroll when he wasn’t looking. It was sickening and she couldn’t take it. She left to go finish delivering the flowers

---

Moomin realized that he harbored warm feelings for Snufkin when the sun was at its hottest. Snufkin had stripped to his trousers and worn shirt, the white so faded it was threadbare at the hems and elbows. They splashed around a creek where a willow tree traced its surface, stocks of violet irises waved in the warm, summer breeze and spots of petunias reached for the water. It was a picturesque sight of them chasing frogs in the moving water, tripping over stray stones and tangled in weeds. The cool water felt great in Moomin’s heated skin, his fur thinned for the summer but it wasn’t enough to cool him from the hot sun. Snufkin had a peeling sunburn on his nose, new freckles sprang up across his cheeks and the back of his hands and for a second Moomin wanted to kiss them.

The shock of realization hit him as if Little My dumped ice-cold lemonade over his head. He froze in the creek, the water splashing at his waist as he stared wide-eyed at Snufkin floating on the surface, eyes closed and absorbing the sun peeking through the willow branches and warming the water. Moomin’s heart leaped in his throat and caught his tongue in a stranglehold. Never in his life had he wanted to hold someone’s paw so much.

---

The Moomins shielded themselves from the midsummer sun under their balcony, with Moominappa taking up residence in the hammock with a book over his face to muffle his snores. Snufkin sat on the railing cleaning his harmonica while Moomintroll sat next to him with a book of his own. From where they sat, a breeze hit them just right. Moominmamma was nearby repairing one of Little My’s dresses with a rather large hole in the hem. The little monster herself laid sprawled out on the porch, sweat dampening her hairline and shooting glances and Moomintroll and Snufkin.

Snufkin let his eyes follow her glances where Moomintroll was posed reading a book, one of pirates and seascape adventures. The sun hit his fur where the shade couldn’t shield him, haloing him in a white glow and Snufkin’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Moomintroll chose that moment to look and he smiled at Snufkin, his eyes glittered with mirth from what Snufkin suspects is from a silly part in his novel. He winked at Snufkin and went back to reading.

Little My snorted when Snufkin turned his back to the porch so no one could see his red cheeks.

---

Snufkin found himself napping amongst hydrangeas. They grew off the side of one spot on the road and their fragrant shade was ideal for a mid-afternoon nap. It was August, and the heat was reaching to the point of unbearable. The day before he and the Moomins wore themselves out on their own seascape adventure when they took the boat out. He could still smell the lingering salt and sand on his skin, a smell that won’t go away until summer is gone beyond the horizons.

He heard familiar footsteps coming down a road, a gait he had memorized by heart. Moomintroll caught sight of his boots sticking out of the flowers and crawled under the bush to join him.

“Hullo, Snufkin,” Moomintroll greeted. “Do you mind if I join you? The sun is very harsh right now and it smells wonderful in this shade.”

“Be my guest.” Snufkin patted the spot next to him. It was a tight fit within the sturdy branches and pom poms of pastel flowers, but Snufkin didn’t mind. He could never mind being so close to Moomintroll.

It was peaceful between them, or that’s what Snufkin wanted to say. He was enjoying the air between them, warm and fragrant. It was Moomintroll who seemed to not be able to settle down. He was tense, kept shifting in his spot.

Unable to take it, Snufkin pokes. “What’s the matter, Moomintroll?”

“I want this to last forever,” Moomintroll spoke in a rush, a crack in the dam.

“Well, summer can’t last forever. Soon it will be autumn and I’ll have to leave again, but don’t worry, I’ll always be back,” Snufkin soothed. “Then we can have a whole new spring together.”

“No, not that. It’s-“ Moomintroll gulped and sat up as far as he could with a wide branch of spade leaves in his way. He looked down over at Snufkin. “I don’t want us to change.”

“People are always changing, but we can change together.” Snufkin was admittedly a little confused where Moomintroll’s train of thought was going. He thought they’ve discussed this in-depth?

His heart lit up, fluttered in his chest in hope. He crushed it underfoot.

Moomintroll gulped. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m… I…”

Snufkin waited patiently. He sat up, too, and gripped the brim of his hat in his lap.

“I don’t know how to say this but I need to say this to you Snufkin, but I don’t want ya to change apart, can we still be friends?” Moomintroll looked anywhere but at Snufkin.

“Of course I’ll stay by your side,” Snufkin agreed easily. It was the easiest yet hardest thing he could do.

“Snufkin,” Moomintroll took a deep breath, steadying himself and pulled his gaze to meet Snufkin’s. “I love you so much, I want to stay with you, and you stay with me. I love you like Mamma and Pappa love each other, and if you don’t- don’t feel the same way, that’s okay! As long as we can be friends that’s more than enough for me.”

There was a stutter in Snufkin’s heartbeat at Moomintrolls confession.

“You don’t have to respond, we don’t have to change,” Moomintroll continued. “I needed you to know that before I exploded.”

“What if I want it to change?” Snufkin asked. His heart felt so light, pounding a rhythm into his chest. Before Moomintroll could respond, a look of pain crossing his face, Snufkin said, “What if I want us to be together, too… if you would have me?” He felt… he didn’t know how to voice his love for Moomintroll, he never thought he would ever. He wasn’t prepared.

Moomintroll’s eyes filled with starlight, a smile graced his face so wide and happy Snufkin silently filed away that memory forever. “I would love to,” Moomintroll said.

They held hands, something they’ve done countless times before, but this time it had a whole new meaning.

---

The summer heat got hotter and drier as the season progressed, the riverbed dried out and only the sturdiest flora could withstand the waves of heat. Grass shriveled to brown crisps and Moominmamma’s roses were nothing but bare stumps. In this, like everyone else in Moominvalley, Snufkin found himself dozing off more often than not. With a heat this intense, it left the air dizzy with sleep.

As Moomintroll and Snufkin would be considered officially together, they hardly strayed from each other’s sides. Their honeymoon phase, as Moominmamma called it. Despite how desperately Snufkin wanted to cuddle up to Moomintroll’s soft chest and sleep the day away under the bridge, the heat wouldn’t allow him to go closer than a few inches from Moomintroll. At night, when the air cooled to a more bearable warmth, not nearly cool enough to wear his jacket again but less like he needed to peel his skin off too, they would watch fireflies dance amongst the midnight blue or simply relax on the beach where the waves pounded their stories into the sand.

Snufkin tried not to think of the coming autumn, how the sunflowers were growing less frequently and the air lost the summer touch.

---

As if summoned, or perhaps sent by a certain spring goddess, Snufkin received a visitor on the last day of summer.

The summer left him weak and found that naps helped. Napping in flowers helped a lot. He laid in a grove of lavender brush, the first of the upcoming season and a final goodbye from summer. Their soothing smell lulled him into a deep sleep and he wondered if Moomintroll has seen this yet.

A crunch of footsteps through hard dirt and the sage leaves of the lavender brought Snufkin out of his stupor. Sleepily, he sat up and put his hat back on, the top adorned with more of the lavender stocks and sweet asters Moomintroll had found for him. A figure framed by the too-bright sun shaded his vision.

“Hello, may I help you with something?”

“I’m your dad and your mother sent me to make sure you’re getting ready to leave,” this person, The Joxter, said.

To see both his parents within the span of one season, how fortunate Snufkin must be. The Joxter was as Moominpappa described him to be, his eyes were a piercing blue and his olive coat had seen better days, the hat on his head was similar to Snufkin’s except red and looped through the cord around the brim were dandelions. From the pipe hanging from his lips and the calm disposition, Snufkin was a little unnerved by the similarities between them.

“It’s too early, tell her I’ll leave when it’s properly time,” Snufkin said.

The Joxter’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath of his pipe and puffed out a ring of smoke. “Okay.”

Snufkin was taken aback. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He plopped down next to Snufkin and leaned back, his hat tilted down to shield his face. “I don’t care. You’re a grown man. She never took interest in you before now, so I don’t know what her concern is.”

The remark sort of hurt, but it was the hard truth. “Is she trying to change herself?”

“Not likely. I think she doesn’t want her only god kid to die out because he liked hanging out with the Moomins. Don’t worry, I do too. Your little boyfriend’s dad and I go way back.” His voice was muffled by his hat, the pipe lifted lazily in the air as he tapped out the ashes without care.

Snufkin stared down at him unsure of where to go from there. “They’re good, the Moomins.”

“Yeah, lay down kid, take a nap with me, then let’s go eat some of Moominmamma’s delicious food.” The Joxter patted Snufkin’s spot, the dent still in the grass where Snufkin had been laying.

He complied and found it odd to be having a cat nap with his dad out of the blue, a man he has never met before this moment. A god-like him who chose to spend his days idly, and suddenly he didn’t find it so weird so similar they were.

-----

AN: see Snufkin here!

[icecreamkink]

*slides this here bc im still Not Happy With It but i also dont know if i even wanna continue it but i need to put it somewhere also @fangirl383 might or might not shoot me with her pink gun if i dont post Another wip she liked and i promised i would ha  h a*

“Listen, I know this isn’t an ideal situation—” Malfoy snorted in contempt. Harry ignored him. “But we’re doing a job and if you could not act like someone’s roping you into.. Into-  What the fuck are you doing n- ow” Harry groaned as Malfoy’s elbow somehow collided with Harry’s mouth despite the fact half of his body was half on top of Harry, and, rationally, it had to be an accident. But if there was someone who would contort themselves to make Harry’s life the most difficult possible, it would be Malfoy.

“Shut up, Potter.” The git said, not even bothering to apologize.

“Will you stop moving-”

“I’m trying to get a clear view.”

“Do you need to climb on me to do that?!”

“Well actually, I do since your intelligence landed us in a literal hole,” Malfoy hissed in his ear. Harry opened his mouth to protest that, but well. It was true, his team had been the one to inspect the terrain and find them their hiding spot - a cave so narrow that was indeed more of a hole, nestled at the bottom of a cliff, large enough to fit 1.25 person lying stomach down. Or two aurors, lying practically on top of each other, as it were. The location was ideal because it had a side view of the site they believed to be the smuggling ring HQ, but far enough that the protean spells didn’t reach it, and was naturally conspicuous through dense trees and small rocks (and for being as tiny as a rabbit hole, Malfoy had grumbled moodily) so they didn’t need to use so much magic to disguise themselves. A natural hiding spot, nearly undetectable, but not particularly comfortable, Harry had to admit.

Also it was just… weird to argue with someone when they were hissing against your neck. Harry scratched his nails where Malfoy’s warm breath had tickled it.

“What do you have those dorky glasses for if you need to strain so much.” Harry muttered pettily against his wand, currently pressed between his face, his sweaty hand and a piece of rocky earth. Ugh, it was so hot in here, the air thick and still, made all the worst by the invisibility mantle they had thrown over themselves; all the places he and Malfoy touched felt as if on fire, he had dirt everywhere and Malfoy’s huffed breathing on his ear did absolutely nothing to cool him down, only gave him weird goosebumps in his spine. Harry squirmed miserably, and got a very pointed elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

“My glasses aren’t dorky” Malfoy hissed in supercilious indignation. If Harry didn’t have to risk torticollis to do so, he would have turned his head to watch his eyes flash in all his mad inventor righteous fury.  “They are high level magical object research in trial period, designed to help oafs like you not get killed in the line of work. My glasses, dorky, honestly, you of all people saying that with those things you wear around since school-”  

“What are you talking about, I’ve been told my glasses are quite fetching. Witch Weekly did a whole article on it.” Harry grinned as Malfoy ground his teeth. He’d take all the amusement he could get, after all, and riling up Malfoy was always so much fun.

“Oh, if the pinacle of journalism in our country, Witch Weekly printed it” Malfoy said snidely. Then, as if physically unable to stop there, he continued. “For your information, these glasses are curse repellent, heat vision, magical signature identifying ones. It won me a research funding from the Research and Extension Division-”

“Yeah alright Doc Brown, what do you see then?” Harry interrupted, stretching his back in an attempt to soothe his aching shoulders.

“Nothing uh, much. Will you keep still?” Malfoy murmured, voice strained.

“I barely even mov-” Harry started to protest in indignation, but was cut off by Malfoy’s sweaty hand suddenly pressing against his mouth.

“Shhhh, someone’s coming.” Harry immediately tensed—well, as much as he could in this current predicament, as he could barely grip his wand. Thank Merlin he’d gotten better at wandless magic.

He could hear a faint rustling sound; Malfoy moved his hand into the curve of his neck and it felt oddly comforting. Harry could feel all of Malfoy’s muscles tensing where they pressed together.

Malfoy fiddled with his wand, and Harry faintly prayed he wouldn’t accidentally stab him in the eye with it, because that was just the type of thing to happen to him.

Somebody jumped on the plateau they were directly under, boots scuffing the ground above them.

“That’s it?” A voice echoed. Harry could see Malfoy pointing his wand at another one of his “assistance magical artifacts ” or as Harry called them, his crazy inventor gadgets. It was a little box, similar to a radio, and it buzzed softly at Draco’s murmured incantation, releasing the faintest golden glow.  

“Mmhm, just leave the merch on the front hall.” The person above them said. “Talk to Bre and only Bre, then get the fuck out. There’s a new shipment coming, and everyone’s on edge, don’t hang around more than you have to.” A new shipment. This could be their shot. Harry willed whoever was above them to casually drop a date. Possibly a location. And a list of names. His knees hurt.

“Right, no worries Reg. I’ll be in and out in a peep” A pair of gangly legs dangled in front of them, stumbled over a rock, and then took off briskly towards the house in the woods.

Malfoy shimmied above him, trying to get a closer look. He brought the little box close to his mouth.

“Suspect: Male, red hair, medium stature, grey robes, carrying a medium sized black box.” Malfoy said into it. A recording device, then. Clever.  “Entered the house at -” he paused expectantly, and Harry cast a quick tempus “12:47, sunday the 24th. The box doesn’t appear to be the size or type for containing snakes, so it’s possible it’s another type of ‘merchandise’.” Malfoy put the recording contraption back in his pocket, balancing himself with one hand at the small of Harry’s back.

Harry scowled, unamused at being used as a cushion.

“Next time, I’m topping.” He grumbled.

“What?”  Malfoy choked out, hand slipping down Harry’s back into his side, knuckles thudding against the bedrock.

“In the- the stakeout” Harry hissed, embarrassed. “I’m not your damn pillow.” He grumbled. Malfoy started to shake above him, his whole body vibrating, and with growing chagrin Harry realized he was laughing. He dropped his head into Harry’s shoulder, trying to stifle his giggles.

“Don’t worry Potter, I’ll be your pillow if you want. I’m very comfortable switching between top and bottom after all." He quipped, amusement laced in every word. Harry could feel his blush spreading like fire from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he dropped his head between his arms with a disconcerted groan.

“Oh my god, shut up.” He mumbled, and Malfoy laughed even harder, gleeful and evil, shaking Harry’s whole body. “Is there movement above us?” He said loudly, mostly to stray from the topic at hand.

“Hm.” Malfoy projected a small map of the terrain from the tip of his wand. “Nope. Reggie dear is...currently at the bottom of the hill, down the other side. You know, I don’t know what you’re complaining about, Auror Potter. You’re practically just lying there, I’m doing all the work here.” He drawled, injecting unnecessary lewdness to his voice, still faintly amused as it was. Harry could swear he seemed to be purposefully pressing even closer, his words just short of murmured against his ear.

The git.

“Lying here- How can I- You’re on top of,” Harry started, and felt Malfoy giggle again, then huffed and promptly shut up. “You’re fired.”

“You’re not my bo-oss” Malfoy sing songed, but moved out of his position anyway, sliding away from Harry and turning on his side.

Harry felt disinclined to face him while his cheeks were still flaming.

“Oh come on Potter, where’s your sense of humor?”

“You didnt seem to be in such a jaunty mood a minute ago.”

“Yes, your mortification greatly lifts my spirits.” A beat. “I’m versatile like that.”

Harry sighed, lifting his head. “I hate you so much.”

“That’s kind of why we’re here, isn’t it?” Malfoy hummed, cheek smushed against the palm of his hand. Harry made a noncommittal sound. They were here in a partly punishment mission to quote unquote ‘learn how to act like the twenty-three year old Auror you are, not a snotty fourteen year old whenever Auror Malfoy is concerned’, after his (and Malfoy’s) respective partners filed complaints against their methods and their fighting and their case-point competition. So while it was true their behavior got them here, saddled together in this weird, uncomfortable stake out, Harry wouldn’t say hate was what brought them; he didn’t argue with Malfoy or looked over his cases or felt the need to prove himself and best him out of hate, it was more of a... compulsion. It was just more -  fun, in the often glum and dreary line of work they’d chosen, to have Malfoy pay attention to him, meet him at every curve and breathe down his neck. To watch him rising to his baits when he poked fun at Malfoy’s clothes and hair and (admittedly ingenous) inventions. He admitted to himself that he liked the rivalry, was motivated by it.

But, of course, Harry wouldn’t tell him any of that. And it’s not like he enjoyed Malfoy literally breathing down his neck, so Harry pulled out his wand and checked the map himself instead of answering.

“There's… something moving through the field” Harry said, looking the small dot moving in a hurry. It was too small and moved strangely for a human. Could it be...

Malfoy rolled on top of him again, straining once more to try and see the scope of land.

Harry waited, tense as Malfoy tried to get a clear view.

“Oh.” Malfoy said, muscles unlocking from his coiled stance. “It’s your reptile.”

Harry lifted his head suddenly eager in an attempt to see, banging it painfully against Malfoy’s chin in the process.

“Fuck,” Malfoy hissed, quickly rolling as far away from him as was possible, which in case meant they still touched thigh to shoulder even with Malfoy on his side with his back pressed against the stone. He sent Harry a dark look, clutching his chin; Harry patted his head as condescendingly as he could, turning back to the map, eyes glued to little wiggling dot heading for them.

“Missster Harry, Missster Malfoy” Arnaud hissed in greeting, poking his scaly face into their cave, then quickly sliding into the middle of them both. Arnaud turned his head to Malfoy, flicking his tongue in further acknowledgement since he couldn’t understand him.

“Hey” Harry greeted with a smile even as he inspected him for any sign of injuries. “Is everything alright?”

Arnaud turned to him.

“Yesss, it’s all been really quiet. They’ve mosstly kept us in the cages ssso far, and I snuck out without them ssseeing me. They’ve received five more younglings today, along with eggsss, and theress a boy bringing something else. Sssomething I couldn’t sssee.”

“Did you hear something about another shipment coming tonight?”

“Yess” Arnaud said, lifting his head. “I hear the humans talking. Tonight, at midnight.”

 “The smugglers have been quiet, but more snakes and eggs were brought in today, and something else he couldn’t see. He confirms there’ll be a new shipment at midnight.” Harry translated.

“We have to report it back to the team. See if it’s the time for an ambush or to collect more data” Malfoy said. Arnaud nodded in approval.

“I should get back before they miss me.” Harry nodded, even as his stomach tightened.

“Tell him to be careful.” Malfoy said, looking out with furrowed eyebrows. Arnaud flicked both of their fingers and slithered quickly out with a hissed ‘don’t worry’.

“That’s our out then.” Harry sighed turning sideways too. Malfoy was staring at him, pressed as far back as he could against the rock wall; there was maybe an inch between them.

“You’ll write the report.” Malfoy said, trying to sit up slightly.

“What? Why?” Harry spluttered.

“You headbutted me.” Harry narrowed his eyes.

“You elbowed me in the face!” He shot back. Malfoy stared him down. Harry held his gaze. His eyes looked very dark in the shade.

“Rock parchment wand?”

“...Fine”

.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall of Kingsley’s office. The dark red wood set his hair off rather nicely, Harry noticed. With Arnaud perched on his shoulder like that, he could be a slytherin poster boy.

Robards was still complaining in the back, something about Harry and Malfoy competing for leads and ethics and immaturity or something. Harry wasn’t paying attention. His and Malfoy’s… methods were always questioned, but here they were, another case closed, weren’t they? That’s what should matter.

Behind Robard���s back Malfoy caught Harry’s eye, smirking minutely and winked. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Prick.

Robards face acquired new shades of red, but Harry wasn’t listening at all. Malfoy outright grinned, bringing one hand to stroke the scales on Arnaud’s head and his stomach felt….weird. Somehow almost...fluttery?

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that was inconvenient.

[itsthesinbin]

Warning (Soldier 76/OC feat Jacko)

sort of a part two/continuation to guided, but not featuring the junkers.

This is after Jacko’s returned to her home. A couple of “visitors” show up to her house- just the people she needed to see, actually.

Faucon belongs to @milked-goats / @writing-goats!!

Also under a read more bc LONG

Soldier 76 was a tired man. A tired man wandering the Irish countryside chasing some tale of some kind of… gang… terrorizing a local town. The people say they’re demons, but he figured the people were just scared. Not the first time he’d heard a bunch of assholes be called “demons”, anyway.

His companion- a tall French Woman by the alias of Faucon- walked behind him. Both must’ve looked ridiculous, walking along a forest path in full armor. Faucon knows she wants to get out of her heat-prison, but Soldier insisted on staying in gear. Who knows when they’d ambushed? Especially in these dense trees.

“Soldier,” the woman behind him started, taking a moment to figure out the translation to what she wants to say. God she wishes she studied English more often…

“Are you sure this is… right?” Hopefully that gets the point across. She just wants to make sure they aren’t lost.

Soldier had to think for a second, looking back at her. She glanced around at the trees, as if trying to figure out where they are. He sighed, running a gloved hand over his head.

“No- but I know we’re not lost. We just need to patrol around, then hurry back to a city to catch our flight back to Egypt.” Ana’s going to kick his ass for taking so long to get back to the necropolis.

If they’re lucky, the punks were eaten by fucking wolves and they can just leave.

But, as usual, luck was not on Soldier’s side.

A rustling caught the old soldier’s attention, he whipped around, weapon pointed towards the noise. He scowled behind the mask, trying to find anything- be it human or animal.

“Faucon, can you get up in the sky?” She looked up, frowning at the thick branches above her. There’s no break in the tree canopy, aside from the odd tiny holes. No way she could break through. She’d simply get branches and leaves stuck in her jetpack. She grunted out an “mm-mm”, stomping her foot angrily. He sighed. She frowned in response.

“Je suis désolé*,” she apologized. He leant his rifle on his shoulder, slowly walking again. She followed, keeping a closer eye on their surroundings.

“No need to apologize,” he grunted. “Can’t help that the trees here are so damn thick-” A large branch landed in their path, startling the soldiers. 76 jerked back, pulse rifle aiming upwards. They looked up, seeing something vaguely human shaped dart through the trees. Faint giggling could be heard, making the younger woman shudder.

A faint blue light suddenly lit up, at the far end of the path they’re on. The soldiers pointed their weapons forward. The light bobbed up and down, seemingly beckoning them to follow it. Faucon almost started walking, but Soldier moved his hand to block her path.

Before any action could be taken, shadows appeared around them. In the trees, among the bushes- bright eyes glowed in the dark. When had the sun set? Was it truly set, or were the trees just that thick?

A… creature stepped out of the brush. Nearly human in appearance, but with glowing gold eyes, black fur, and long claws. More of them stepped out- too many to count. Some sat in the trees, some hung behind. The humans were clearly outnumbered.

“No choice,” Soldier growled. He backed up, pushing his charge back. Without any further prompt, the two began to run. Like hell they could take on that many of those… things.

The monsters were definitely up for a chase, however.

Soldier fired his rockets into the pack, hoping to deter them. It injured a few, but it also just made the rest angrier.

An orange light appeared ahead of them, similar to the blue one from before. It floated in front of a break in the trees, on what looked like a worn dirt path. Soldier didn’t notice it at first- but Faucon did.

“À travers les arbres**,” she commanded, suddenly taking control of the situation. She gripped Soldier’s wrist, pulling him through the small gap between the trees. The older man almost tripped over roots- and his own feet- but managed to follow closely. The creatures roared, struggling to fit between the trunks at once.

It gave them enough of a head start to try and hide.

More orange lights appeared, a trail of them leading down the worn forest path. With no other choice, Faucon and 76 followed the disappearing- and reappearing- flickers of light.

At the end of a trail, and old cabin sat in the middle of clearing. The two stopped, startled to find anyone living this far out in the wilderness. They caught their breaths, checking behind them to see if they were followed.

Faucon nearly screamed as the door to the cabin slammed open.

“Oh, I’m so late! I hope they’re-”. The soldiers looked over at the new voice, seeing a very… small woman struggling to hold a large bag- and an even larger hat. The orange-haired woman stared at them for a moment, before sighing loudly in relief.

“Oh, thank the spirits. I thought I was TOO late,” she said, putting her hand- and hat- over her chest in relief. Soldier started to say something, but was cut off by loud snarling.

“Dammit- now we have to protect a civilian,” he growled, pulling his pulse rifle out. Faucon readied her SMG, moving back to keep a closer eye on the smaller woman.

“Protect me from what? The Phouka? Oh, please- I handle them on a daily basis,” she laughed, easily brushing past the confused soldiers. 76 shook his head, grabbing her shoulder roughly.

“Get behind-” The pack appeared, growling loudly. The woman pulled her shoulder away from 76’s hand, walking forward. The monsters seemed to stop- and a few even backed up.

“Oh hush now- I know what I’m doing,” she said, pulling her hat on. She whipped her bag around, digging through it. A faint chiming could be heard- bells jingled on the outside of the messenger bag.

Out comes a large, iron horseshoe.

The creatures- Phouka, she called them- cried out in anger. The woman approached them, holding the horseshoe out. The phouka growled and hissed, before turning and running.

Once she was sure they were gone, the seemingly-crazy woman turned back to the stunned soldiers. She put the horseshoe back in her bag, fishing something else out. She hurried towards them, a smile on her face.

“You two can call me Jacko- now where did I put-” She huffed, before letting out a happy “ah!” as she pulled out two daisychains. While the two were gathering their thoughts, Jacko shoved the small bracelets onto their wrists.

“Keep those on while you’re in my home. I’ll give you something stronger before you leave. Now come in! The tea’s about to be ready and we need to let the Phouka run off for a bit.” Without giving the two a chance to decline, she ushered them inside.

The house’s decor was just as eccentric as the woman who owned it. Charms and wreaths hung on the walls, what looked like Halloween decorations sat around the small living room, and a ton of different plants grew in various hanging and stationary pots.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Jacko said, hurrying to the kitchen. Faucon slowly slid her jetpack off, before sitting on the loveseat. 76 stayed standing, clutching his pulse rifle. Something was off about this woman- this whole situation.

The small woman returned, carrying a large tray with tea and cookies. She had taken her hat, cloak, and boots off. All that was left was a dark orange sundress and socks.

She set the tray down, looking up at him with unnervingly large green eyes. He chewed on the inside of his cheek- a nervous habit he could never break.

“You can sit down, you know! Just because I know how to ward off some of the fair folk doesn’t mean I could beat you in a fight,” she laughed, sitting in an old armchair across from the loveseat. She waited for the older man to sit- although he just… stood there. She guessed he was suspicious. That’s fair.

“Anyway, I know you’re curious and suspicious, but I can’t explain too much at the moment. Not without giving away some very important details for later.” Soldier sneered behind his mask. What the hell was this woman talking about?

“For the incident that happened just now, know that there are creatures long-thought fictional roaming around the world,” she started, voice turning deadly serious. “Keep your eyes on the shadows- but don’t linger too long. Many hate being stared at.” She got up again, going to a large cabinet at the back of the living room.

“Now, do you have something I can call you?” Faucon snapped out of her confused stupor, watching the woman dig through the cabinet. Bottles and dried plants were pushed aside as she muttered to herself.

“... Faucon,” the taller woman said. “And Soldier 76”. Jacko nodded, mumbling a “nice to meet you both”.

“Ah- there they are.” She pulled something out of the very back of the lowest shelf. She came back over, handing something to both visitors. Faucon examined the item.

It was a heavy bracelet, covered in red cloth to keep from biting into the skin. She looked at Jacko in confusion.

“Iron bracelets- the red is to make you invisible. Although… I guess he’d be safe. Those Phouka must’ve been after you, miss,” Jacko explained, eyeing the red on Soldier’s jacket. “Just to be safe- wear those as you leave the forest. They should ignore you”. Jacko sat again, pouring tea for her guests.

Once the tea was poured and the cups were dispersed, Jacko divided up the cookies. WIthout thinking, Faucon took the plate happily. Soldier tried to stop her, but she hungrily shoved a cookie in her mouth. Double fudge… Delicious.

Faucon didn’t see the glare Soldier shot her way.

“This visit has to be short- you two have a flight to catch”. Soldier raised his pulse rifle, startling both women.

“How do you know that? Who do you work for?” Jacko shook off the shock, letting out a small sigh. She frowned, nose wrinkling slightly with the action. Faucon found the look to be quite adorable, and couldn’t help but snicker behind her cup.

“Whatever I said, you wouldn’t believe me. Just know I work for someone who wants to help you- all of you.” Not a complete lie, on Jacko’s part. Soldier growled, moving forward. He slammed his hand on the coffee table, making the women jump. Faucon was definitely enjoying this… display, though.

“Cut this shit out. Tell me who you’re working for or I’ll-” “Kill me? Or take me to the authorities? You’re not part of Overwatch, anymore, sir- you don’t really have any authority here.” The sternness in her voice made him reel bad- as well as the knowledge she had. Who the hell was this woman?

“Now, I suggest you either sit down, or calm down, before I have you escorted out of this house”. Soldier didn’t know if she had other people- guards- here, so he just, reluctantly, shut his mouth. Faucon grabbed his sleeve, pulling him to come sit with her. He grunted, letting out a huff as he flopped himself on the old loveseat. Faucon resisted the urge to lean against him as Jacko sat up straight.

“You two are in danger- as is every previous Overwatch soldier. You’ll get a message soon- I don’t know from who. I’ve only heard them be called “the ones on the rock”. My sources are very… ridiculous, when it comes to details,” Jacko explained. Before Soldier could open his mouth, she continued. The two notice her eyes seemingly glaze over.

“The shadow’s searching- he’ll attack the ones on the rock, followed by his imps. After the attack, the ones from the rock will send the message. No matter what, you must answer it,” she said, voice sounding… far away. Faucon reached a hand up, waving it in front of her line of sight. Jacko’s eyes barely twitched in her direction.

The eccentric woman suddenly snapped out of her stupor, shaking her head. Soldier stood as she shook the disorientation away.

“I’ve heard enough. I don’t know how you got this information, but we’ll be keeping a close eye on you,” he growled, heading for the door.

“If you don’t heed my warning, you’ll ruin many lives!” Soldier ignored her.

“Faucon! Fall out- we need to hurry back to town.” Faucon quickly stood, followed by Jacko. The frenchwoman started to leave, but Jacko grabbed her arm. She looked back as the smaller woman picked up a small, cloth-covered box.

“Take this- open it when you’re alone,” she said slowly, as if knowing Faucon had trouble with english. Faucon held the box awkwardly, staring down at the black cloth wrapped around it.

“There’s a way to contact me inside- as well as a few… extra items you might need, later,” Jacko said quietly. “Just… do not open it while you’re still in Ireland. Wear the iron bracelets until you’re where you need to be. Then open the box, when you’re alone. Soldier will take the items inside if he sees them”. Faucon, despite knowing she should tell Soldier about this, hesitantly nodded.

She slipped the medium-sized box into her bag carefully, before grabbing it and her jetpack. She hurried after her Commander, leaving the seemingly-crazed woman alone in her house.

The iron around her wrists felt more like shackles, clinking heavily against her armor. The two soldiers walked in silence, processing what had happened.

She reached over, grabbing the older soldier’s hand. He held it limply, thoughts more focused on the woman back in the cabin. She heard him mutter something along the lines of “this whole place is ridiculous”.

Neither of them saw the creatures of the forest scurrying past them, through the trees. The only thing Faucon managed to catch was a small hiss, and golden eyes darting back into the shadows.

The grip on Soldier’s hand tightened, as they made their way out of the forest.