#she gets back in the cart and shes still insisting that its fine and i should still park after that which i do with great trepidation

[nerdie-faerie]

Just when I think the day's going well, I crash a golf cart

[fuck-customers]

You dumbshits want to actively prevent me from improving the store and scolding me for doing what should be done? Enjoy your OSHA violation fine. 😘

We got new carts 2 weeks ago and I guess that the delivery person delivered them to the back door instead of the warehouse. (I wasn't there when the carts were delivered, but they're in such an odd spot, I can't imagine why else they'd be there) This spot which completely blocks the bathrooms and the emergency exit at the same time.

I asked the SM (more on this in a sec) directly if she wanted me to bring some of the new carts up to the register when I clock in. She said sure, so I did. I can only successfully take 4-6 carts at a time and we received maybe 40 carts, so it should've been up to management/coworkers to get the rest of the carts up to the register on days I'm not scheduled. (The carts are all individually wrapped and need to be unwrapped before being put out for customer use)

Ever since then, I've been taking some carts to the register when I clock in to unwrap and put out. Registers are unbelievably boring and I wanted a task so I didn't rip my hair out. (It's been a week and a half and they're still not all unwrapped, so obviously no one else is doing it)

Then out of nowhere, the ASM (who has a lovely habit of insisting that the SM said to do x thing or not do y thing with absolutely no proof and when I later question the SM about x or y thing, what she says never lines up with what the ASM said) said that the SM said that we can't bring up the carts any more, because she "doesn't want them out."

Why? This makes no sense. They're shopping carts. For customers to put their shit in while shopping. They're blocking our break room, the bathrooms, and the emergency exit. Why keep them there? That makes no sense.

Anyway I reported the store to OSHA for its 3rd violation of the year. The SM is a dumbshit and is single-handedly running this store into the ground, so I don't feel bad about reporting her.

Posted by admin Rodney

[bansheeys]

Chapter 2 - Twilight

Quel'Thalas, a place beyond Jaina's wildest dreams, appeared as if it had been plucked from a fairy tale with its radiant golden trees. The descriptions she had read of the elven lands couldn’t compare to the reality before her. The land existed in an endless spring, a wonder Nathanos credited to the Sunwell. Jaina sat beside Nathanos in a wooden cart drawn by two white Quel’dorei steeds while Briar and Brindle snored softly in the back. As they traveled down the main road, they passed by high elves going about their day. Jaina couldn’t help but marvel at the grand homes adorned with red and golden domes. The elves they passed frowned as the cart went by, but Nathanos appeared unfazed. His annoyance was obvious, though, as a vein throbbed on his forehead. He had been like this since a pair of rude guards stopped them at the Elfgate. The elven guards eyed them suspiciously, even though Nathanos had all the proper paperwork. Insisting on searching through all their belongings, the guards took their time while Nathanos kept his mouth shut and repeatedly checked his tarnished pocket watch. When they were finally allowed to pass, Nathanos quietly grumbled, his eyes still flicking back to the pocket watch. On the other hand, Jaina was simply relieved that whatever illness had plagued Nathanos seemed to have passed. That morning, he had woken up coughing up blood, looking as though death itself was looming over him. Jaina had insisted on getting a healer, but Nathanos refused, claiming he would be fine. His coughing persisted throughout their journey across Lordaeron, but curiously ceased once they crossed into elven territory. “I never realized how truly beautiful Quel’Thalas is. Magic really does flow through every part of these lands,” Jaina said, attempting to break the awkward silence.

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[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Eight: Single Parent Au @rowaelinscourt

Rowaelin Month Masterlist Where We've Been Masterlist

Warnings: nothing too major? ~6.5k words

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Six

Aelin awoke with a start the next morning.

Sprawled out on the small couch in the waiting room, she’d forgotten where she was for the briefest of moments.  Her dreams had been filled with running through a small apartment trying to get free from her pursuer.  Constantly looking over her shoulder.  The impending knowledge that she wasn’t safe.  Needless to say, she didn’t sleep well.

As she remembered where she was, that she was safe, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair.  The small window of the waiting room showed off an early morning sky that wasn’t yet dusted with the pinks and golds of a rising sun.

Outside the door were the usual sounds of a hospital: nurses talking quietly, med carts rolling, shoes squeaking on linoleum.  It hadn’t bothered her throughout the night, for which she was grateful.  The hospital was slowly waking up with the usual ins and outs of operation which meant Aelin would soon need to leave.  

She only had a dinner shift at the diner, and she knew Nox wouldn’t be mad if she was late, but considering she was on an hourly wage and needed the tips, getting there on time would be better for her.

Sitting up, she stretched out her sore back.  She’d have to make sure not to wince or waddle when talking to Malakai or she’d never hear the end of her stubborn refusal to go home to a real bed.

She stuffed her hair into a bun, certain it still looked like a rat's nest, and gathered her jacket and phone.  The battery was well on its way to dying so the sooner she got to her car where the spare charger was, the better.

As she headed up to Emrys’ room for a quick check in, she ran into Yrene who was finishing up at a nurses station.

The brunette smiled. “Hey, did you stay here all night?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be close in case anything happened,” Aelin said.

Yrene nodded in understanding.  She reached out and gave Aelin’s arm a squeeze.  “He’s a strong man.  And stubborn as they come.”

“I know.”  She did her best to smile, unwilling to break down in front of Yrene who always appeared so strong and composed all the time. “I just want to swing by the room before I head back to Terrasen.”

“I’ll walk with you.”  

Yrene initialed a patient file before putting it back where it belonged at the nurses station.  Her hair was pulled back in a braid, but there were a few flyaways escaping.  The curls framed her face, emphasizing her dark hazel eyes.

“So, how have you been?” Aelin asked.  She didn’t know Yrene very well, only from the occasional check-ups and some medication prescriptions.  But, Yrene had a quality about her that spoke to kindness and surety that Aelin appreciated.

“Oh, same old,” Yrene laughed.  “A few nurses quit last week so my workload increased a bit.”

She rolled her eyes even as Aelin stared in slight horror.  

“It’s fine,” Yrene insisted, “I get double overtime and everything.  Besides, I’ve gotten really good at sewing up barbed wire injuries.”

“You still deserve a break,” Aelin insisted.

They stepped on the elevator to head up to the recovery wing.  Unlike yesterday, Aelin was able to remain mostly calm.  She kept herself as close to the door as possible still, ready to jump out at the first chance.

“Who needs rest?” Yrene chuckled.

“When was the last time you had a girls night?” Aelin asked. “You should come into Terrasen.  You, Nehemia, me and Marion, we can have a night out of fun.”

That gave Yrene pause.  She fiddled with the pager at her waist as she thought.  Aelin had a feeling she knew exactly what was going through the other woman’s head: new friends, too busy, do I really have time, easier to ignore it.  She knew those thoughts.  As much as Aelin loved new people and having fun, she’d grown warier as of late.  She knew how easily her cover could be blown, sending up a smoke signal to Arobynn telling him where she was.  

It had come close to happening after the debacle with Chaol over a year ago and why she didn’t entirely trust the man anymore.

“If you don’t want to,” Aelin began.

“No,” Yrene said quickly.  “No.  It sounds fun.  I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know.”

The elevator opened up a floor and had Aelin bouncing out as soon as she could.  Despite the care she took to hide her emotions and her unease, she’d been failing more often in recent weeks.  She used to be good at it--protecting herself from other’s eyes.  For her own sake and the sake of her daughter she needed to get back to that point.

“Great!” Aelin flashed her brightest smile.  She had to be careful around Yrene’s keen eyes.  The woman had seen some of Aelin’s past medical records--the healed broken bones and scars--and would know what they meant.  While Yrene was a professional, and bound by HIPPA, she was still a good person who would look out for someone in a bad situation.  As long as Aelin acted like everything was alright, Yrene wouldn’t comment on it.  

She could hope.

“Marion doesn’t seem like the type to go out,” Yrene commented with light amusement. 

They headed down the hall as dawn slowly began creeping in through the skylights and windows.  It was set to be another beautiful summer day, even with all the turmoil surrounding them.

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Aelin agreed, “she’s always been a little closed off. She bit my head off the first time I invited her out to lunch.  It just takes a little bit for her to feel comfortable around people.”

We all have things we need to keep hidden, she almost said.  She bit her lip and kept those words to herself.

The recovery wing was quiet as they rounded a corner to Emrys’ room.  Malakai was already up and in the hall as the doctor and a nurse did a morning evaluation.

“You look terrible,” Malakai said, giving Aelin an appraising look.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh thanks.”

“I told you that you should have gone home,” he said.

“I’m fine.” The crick in her neck said otherwise, but Aelin ignored that. “How is he?”

“He woke up,” Malakai said, “still groggy and confused, but he did wake up.”

“Good,” Aelin said, “that’s good.”

She glanced to the room where the curtains were drawn.  She wished she could have gotten to see Emrys at least once, but she did need to get going, especially if she wanted to relieve Nehemia from Meiri duty.

“Will you give him my love?” she asked.  “I need to head back to Terrasen.”

“Of course,” Malakai agreed, “go.  I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ll check in with Luca and make sure he’s going to his summer classes.”

“Chaol knows what he’s doing,” Malakai reminded her.  

Aelin kindly ignored him.  She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to Yrene.

“Text me about your schedule.”

Yrene told her she would and satisfied, Aelin headed back to Terrasen.  

…

Rowan stood at the top of the ladder and stared at the window pane he was trying to install.  This really was a two man job but considering he knew no one in this damned town, he was determined to accomplish this on his own.

Last night he’d made the impossibly stupid decision of staying in Terrasen to help finish the renovations on the Inn.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it--other than the fact that he actually liked Malakai and Emrys. 

Maybe it also dipped into the idea that he wanted to make a difference.  For so long he’d been entrenched in pain and war, blood and misery.  For so long he’d done what others had told him to do to the point he never really knew what he wanted.  Until the end.

Until that last raid when he’d made a deadly choice.

But this wouldn’t lead to death.

Unless he slipped off the ladder.

Rowan looked down.  He’d probably survive.  

Good thing heights had never bothered him.

He turned back to the window pane.  With careful leveraging he could manage this on his own.  But for the rest of the windows?  Maybe he would have to enlist some help.  Which would require talking to people.

Hell.

After another twenty minutes, Rowan did manage to finagle the window pane into place and secure it with the necessary equipment.  

Sweat poured down his skin as she finally made it down the ladder.  It was barely one in the afternoon and he was ready to call it a day.  Even after spending years hauling equipment through the Kovac desert and sitting in a sniper's nest--there was something particularly grueling about this today.

He hadn’t been sleeping of course.  Hadn’t been training every day, all day.  His body was trying to adapt to its new circumstances and seemed to be failing miserably.

When his feet hit solid ground, he stripped off his shirt to wipe off the excess sweat that was dripping from his forehead.  As he’d come to learn about this part of the state; it was endlessly sunny.  The blue sky allowed for no relief.  Not that Rowan wanted it.

He stood in the parking lot of the Inn, bare chested and let the sun pour down.  He could taste the remnants of dust on his tongue and hear the quiet hum of cars drive past on the main road.  If he focused, if he closed his eyes and waited--he was back in that desert waiting for orders.

The low growl of a closely approaching car drew his attention and he opened his eyes to the blinding light of the sun as a black SUV pulled into the parking lot.  The engine cut off and a man hopped out of the driver's seat.  He had to be Rowan’s same age if he had to guess.  He was handsome with black hair and a charming smile.  There was something familiar about the easy way he held himself.

“You must be Rowan.” The man proffered a hand to shake.  He wore a suit that had to cost at least as much as the SUV he drove. “I’m Dorian, the city mayor.”

Rowan shook his hand but was otherwise unsure what to say to the man.  He’d met many political types in his time in the army and hadn’t liked any of them.  All he could really do was nod and mop his face with his shirt again.

“Malakai mentioned you might be staying in the front office for the day,” Dorian said, glancing at the ladder and mess of window equipment. “He didn’t mention you’d be working.”

There was such an easy way about him, that Rowan could see how someone could be disarmed by the man.  Since Rowan could now count on one hand the number of people he trusted in his life, it was easy to keep his defenses up.

“I figured I’d try and repay them by helping out,” Rowan said.

He remembered meeting a business man out in Kovac who would essentially loot abandoned villages and look for any opportunity to get his hands on money.  It was one of the things that led to Talbot’s death.  And that final raid.

All because of one man.

Rowan knew why Dorian was familiar.

“Havilliard,” he said slowly. Dorian’s smile froze in play. “Dorian Havilliard.  I’ve met your father.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Dorian said, “the man’s a bastard.”

Rowan eased back a step.  Henry Havilliard had come to Kovac because his business was investing funds in the war and had wanted to see sites where his money was being used.  Which had led to the attack miles outside of base camp.

In reality, Rowan knew he couldn’t blame the sins of the father on the son.  He knew that.  But it would be so easy to.

“You served in Kovac, didn’t you?” Dorian asked. “That’s mostly where my father invested.”

“Three tours,” Rowan said.  Three tours over four and a half years.  And then a year of training stateside before that.  It shouldn’t have happened that way, he should have had more time between tours.  Should have given himself a break, but after Talbot…everything had spiraled out of control.

“My father never understood what it was like to serve,” Dorian said, “never really understood what his work was doing.”  He held Rowan’s gaze for a few moments before looking away. “Even with all the time he spent over there.”

No one understood what it was like.  Not until they were holding a dying kid in their arms and had blood staining their lips.

“Did you need to get into the office?” Rowan asked.  He didn’t need to talk about his military time nor did he need to try and bond with a Havilliard.

“No,” Dorian said, he cast another look over the motel.  “I just thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.” He paused. “Are you planning on finishing the renovations yourself?”

Rowan shrugged. “May as well.  Sartaq is still finishing my truck.”

Though, if the last text was to be believed, the truck would be finished by the end of the day.

Dorian nodded absently. “Malakai was worried about being ready for the county fair.  You know--”

He was cut off by a loud squeal.

“Uncle Dorian!”

The small voice carried across the parking lot and was followed by the emphatic pounding of feet.  When Rowan looked around until he saw running along the sidewalk toward them was Meiri.  Her blonde hair bounced wildly about her face and an infectious smile beamed at him.  As she got closer he noticed she wore a pink tutu skirt paired with a blue Spider-Man shirt.

Behind her trailed Aelin at a quick pace with Meiri’s backpack slung on one arm, coffee in hand.

“Hey kiddo!” Dorian knelt down as Meiri nearly bowled him over.

“You missed pizza night with Mia!” Meiri told him.  She smacked her hands on Dorian’s cheeks and looked him dead in the eye. “You never miss pizza night.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, he genuinely seemed apologetic.  Though Rowan wondered if that was from missing the pizza of missing time with Nehemia. “Next time I’ll be there, I promise.”

Meiri held out one hand, pinky in the air. “Pinky promise!”

Aelin watched the exchange in bemusement that had Rowan wondering how often Meiri sealed deals with pinky promises.

“Pinky promise,” Dorian agreed.  He hooked his pinky with hers.  

Satisfied, Meiri turned to Rowan.  Much like the first few times they’d met, she shied away from him, just a little.  Though, she still eyed him with interest.

“Hi,” she said, “did you get pancakes today?”

“Nope,” Rowan said, “no pancakes.”

“That sucks,” Meiri said.

“Meiri!” Aelin scolded, dropped a hand on her daughter's head. “That’s not a word I want you using.”

“But Luca says it,” Meiri said.  She shook her mother off and patted down her hair aggressively.

“Yeah and he’ll be in trouble too,” Aelin assured her daughter. “It’s not a nice way to talk.”

Meiri immediately became uninterested with the mild chastisement and ran over to the tool box sitting out beside the ladder.  She poked and prodded before she found a measuring tape and got to work measuring out every little thing she could.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Aelin said, drawing Rowan’s attention away from Meiri who crouched beside Dorian’s SUV, tape measure extended over the tires. “Sartaq left me a message saying your truck was done.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, the sweat helping it stick back out of his face.  He nodded to the pile of window and construction equipment off to the side.

“Decided to help out a bit until Emrys was back on his feet,” he explained.  How long had it been since he last checked his phone?  If he’d known Sartaq had finished he would have gone to pick the truck up.

Aelin’s expression betrayed nothing even as her head cocked to one side.  She didn’t exactly trust him, that much was for sure.  But she didn’t dislike him either.  At least…as far as he could tell.  Though, Rowan was certain that she’d never admit to such a thing.

“You should stick around for the county fair,” Dorian said.  He had an earnest grin on his face that had Aelin scoffing, but Rowan didn’t think the malice was directed at him. “It’s a good time.”

“You’d do anything to keep numbers up,” Aelin said.  She rested her hands on her hips and gave Rowan a look. “The reelection is coming up.”

“I’m just saying, food, music, and fireworks,” shrugging, Dorian looked a little chagrined. “And, there's a sharpshooting competition.  Been around since the fair started.  I’m sure Chaol would like the competition, no one’s beat him in three years.”

The offer was genuine, easily extended.  Rowan, however, had no inclination to pick up a gun again.  Not for a long time.  And not unless he had no other choice.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rowan said.  He ran a hand over his jaw contemplating if he could get out of this conversation by just walking away.  He hadn’t touched a weapon of any sort in months, not since being discharged and the thought of handling something else…

Meiri ran over to Dorian, the measuring tape flailing behind her.

“Uncle Dorian! Your car tires are this big!”  Meiri held up the metal tape that made a distinct whipping sound.

“Thanks kiddo,” Dorian smiled down at Meiri. 

“Momma’s gotta go to work, can I stay with you today?” Meiri asked.  She released the tape measure so it snapped together sharply.  

“Sorry, princess, I’ve got a lot of meetings today.” Dorian cast an apologetic look to Aelin who grimaced.

“I should have texted you beforehand,” she sighed. “I guess I can ask Mrs. Olmstead…”

“No Momma!” Meiri cried. “She never has any cookies and she doesn’t like to dig holes.  Plus she smells funny.”

Dorian had to turn away to keep his laugh hidden and Aelin’s lips were pursed so tightly, Rowan worried she’d bite into them.

“The cookies are the biggest crime,” Dorian said.  He patted Meiri on the head. “I need to head down to my meeting.  Have all the fun with this.”

He nodded to Rowan and gave Aelin a peck on the cheek before returning to his SUV.  The car turned out onto the main road, disappearing around a corner with a honk in farewell.

It was only then that Aelin cleared her throat before plucking the tape measure from Meiri’s hands. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but she is a very nice lady.  We can dig holes tomorrow.”

“Please, Momma?”  Meiri clung to her mother’s leg and tugged insistently.

It was a moment that was amusing and endearing.  Meiri in her tutu and large blue eyes and Aelin’s will crumbling bit by bit.  Rowan could remember a similar situation years ago.

A daughter.  A mother.

Each desperately clinging to the other.

“I can watch her,” Rowan said, the words leaving his lips before he knew what the hell he was thinking.

Aelin blinked, clearly shocked by his offer.  Well, there was no turning back now.

“Do you like to dig holes?” Meiri asked.  Her blue eyes widened expectantly as if it were the most important question in the world.

“Sure,” Rowan said, “I spent my summers burying my school books so my mom wouldn’t find them.”

Meiri pondered for a minute before she nodded once. “Okay.  We can have pancakes too!”

She took the measuring tape back from her mom before running to his tool box and taking the level out.  She held the tool in her hands with obvious care before heading over the window ledge of the front office.

It was easy to see Aelin’s uncertainty on the matter with the way she gripped Meiri’s bag in one hand.

“We can just hang out at the diner if you want,” Rowan offered. “You can keep an eye on her, I’ll color with her or something.”

For as long as he could remember, Rowan had never been a kid person.  He’d never known what to do around them or with them or…anything really.  The last kids he’d been around were his cousins but that had been ages ago, back before the war.  And frankly, Rowan wasn’t sure if he should volunteer for this.  After spending years around Lorcan and Fenrys combined there was no telling what Rowan would let slip.

Plenty and cursing that was certain.

“I,” Aelin began.  She sighed and rested a hand on her hip.  The tank top she wore left her golden arms on display.  She even had a few freckles spotting along her shoulders.  Summer looked good on her. “Alright.  Marion has reading hours sometimes at the library, if you stopped by I’m sure she’d help you out.” 

“Alright,” Rowan said.  That would work out well.  He remembered how much Sellene liked to read and Endymion could spin tales like no other.  “We’ll stop by.”

Aelin slowly pulled a key ring from her pocket and unwound a key.  She held it out between two fingers.

“I’m going to trust you,” she said, “don’t make me regret it.  I’m off at eight, but Nox might let me leave early.  You can go back to my place and watch Barbie movies if she gets too rowdy.”

Rowan accepted the key, tucking it into his fingers.  The metal was cool on his skin and seemed to weigh a little heavier in his grasp.

Trust was a heavy burden to own and he really wasn’t sure if he deserved it.  

Meiri skipped back over to them holding up the level so she could peer through one of the small openings between one of the bubble vials.

“Are we gonna get pancakes?” Meiri asked.

“Better,” Aelin answered, “Rowan’s going to take you to the library.”

Meiri gasped in excitement. “Yes!”

Aelin smiled as she crouched down next to her daughter. “Listen to Rowan, okay? I’ll see you tonight after work.”

“Bye, Momma! I love you!”  Meiri threw her arms around Aelin’s neck, nearly smacking her in the head with the level.

Chuckling, Aelin dodged the near assault.  She gently took the level from her daughter. “Let’s be careful with Rowan’s tools, these aren’t toys.”

Meiri nodded, the picture of innocence.

Aelin stood, drawing this good-bye out as long as she could.  Even Rowan wasn’t completely detached from human emotion to notice.

“I’ll make sure my phone’s charged,” Rowan assured her, “and I’ll get your number from Marion.  If that’s alright.”

“You have a phone?” Aelin asked, brow raised.  For the first time that day she was actually directing her amusement at him and not disdain.

“I haven’t used it in a while,” Rowan admitted. The only reason he new where it was was so Sartaq could keep in contact.

Despite the small bit of humor she’d just displayed, Aelin still looked hesitant.  One hand flexed toward Meiri who now butted her head into Aelin legs.  “Just keep me updated.”

“Updates every fifteen minutes,” Rowan promised.

That got a genuine smile. “Thirty minutes is fine.”

…

“Do you like reading Meiri?” Rowan asked as not more than ten minutes later he and Aelin’s daughter were rounding the steps to the library.

The building was small, tucked right up against the post office.  When they entered the double doors, Rowan got the distinct scent of fresh paper and static cleanliness that could only belong to a post office.  It mingled with the subtle undertones of cedar and book musk.

 “Yeah!” Meiri said.  “My favorite is the story of the princess who has to go find her family in the lost castle.  Do you know that story?” 

“Uh, no.”  The last book Rowan had read was…hell, he couldn’t even remember.

Meiri sighed.  “Do you know the story about the ducks?”

“No.”  Whatever fascination Meiri had once had for him was certainly draining away now.  Quickly.

They entered the main lobby of the library where there was a large display of children’s books set in the summer months and a cutout of a puppy with balloons tied to its collar.  Fly away with reading! Was written out overhead.

“Well what do you know?” Meiri asked.

Rowan thought back to what Sellene would have read at Meiri’s age.  “What about Snow White?” 

“She doesn’t have a sword.”

Well at least Rowan knew Aelin was giving her daughter a well rounded view of the world.  Though, admittedly, a lot of fairy tales could be improved if the princess had a sword.

“I’ll ask Marion for help,” Rowan assured Meiri.

He found a small table where he could plug his phone in and let it charge enough to make sure it would actually turn on, before making sure Meiri was settled in the picture book section.  He made sure not to go too far where Meiri was out of view as he looked for Marion.  Despite how small the library was, he wouldn’t take his chances on Meiri running off.

It didn’t take long before Marion appeared from a back room with a stack of books in her arms.  She paused when she saw Rowan.

“Hi,” she said, “what are you…?”

Rowan jutted a thumb back to where Meiri was picking out books. “I’m helping Aelin out with Meiri.”

“Aelin let you take her daughter out of her sight?” Marion obviously did not believe what Rowan was saying.  She propped the books she held on one hip as she walked to the main counter. “She doesn’t know you.”

“Yeah,” Rowan said.  He shrugged. “I  don’t really know why either.”

Marion set her books down and brushed adjusted the bun her hair was knotted in.  She reached for the small phone sitting next to her computer.  Rowan didn’t even try to argue as she immediately began texting.  

“Her shift just started,” he offered helpfully.

Marion only glared up at him.  For such a small woman, she would have made an excellent army ranger.  He could see her ordering a group of soldiers around without much effort at all.  Hell, she could even give Lorcan a run for his money with that scowl.

“Why would I kidnap a five year old and immediately bring her to a library?” Rowan added after Marion finished her message.

“Because you’re up to something,” Marion said. “Showing up to a small town and offering no information about yourself.  Helping out a family you just met.  Don’t think I haven’t heard about what you’re doing for Emrys and Malakai.”

It had been, maybe, a half hour since speaking with Dorian and already the gossip was circulating.

Determination flashed in Marion’s eyes.  As well as mistrust.  Rowan had spent plenty of time trying to understand people, interrogating them, learning everything he could about them that he knew these subtler human emotions.

“I tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.  And then, to make a point he added: “Marion’s not even your real name, is it?”

That got a reaction.  Marion stiffened, just barely, but it was enough to tell Rowan enough.  It was a cruel thing to point out, especially given how protective and cautious she was--but he knew, he knew, there was something different about her.  

“Can I have Aelin’s number?  I told her I would text her with updates.”  Rowan tapped a pad of sticky notes for emphasis.

Marion muttered a curse under her breath but did as requested.  She handed him the note, jaw set with anger.

“Thank-you,” Rowan said.

He went back to where his phone was charging, unlocking it and disregarding the missed messages waiting for him.  Those weren’t important.  There were only three people who had his number and he didn’t want to talk to any of them.  Well, technically a few others but dealing with ghosts never got him anywhere.

He tapped out a quick message to Aelin.

>>This is Rowan.  Meiri is currently well on her way to emptying out the entire library.

He debated sending a picture along with it but decided against it.  He doubted Aelin would want a near stranger having pictures of her daughter on his phone.

Hell.  She must have been desperate to let him take Meiri for the afternoon.

Just as he moved to set the phone back down a new message buzzed through.  He thought it was Aelin already responding until he saw the I.D.  He should have known they would reach out like this.

<<im back stateside

<<we need to talk

<<its important

<<you cant ignore me forever

Rowan frowned.  Well he sure as shit could try.

He locked the phone and went over to the small play area where Meiri was rapidly accumulating a large pile of books.  She sat at a small table with a book propped up before her.  One finger trailed along the words as she slowly mouthed the words out.

“K-k-kwik,” she said, “the dog was quick.”

Rowan didn’t know much about kids, but he had a feeling Meiri was far above the usual reading level.  She glanced up when he approached and waved her book in the air.

“C’mon, you said you’d read with me.”

So, Rowan went over and took a seat in the tiny plastic chair beside her and read about the dog that ran all through a small town wrecking havoc as it went.  Every few books, Meiri would get up and wander around to find another book or two and bring them back for Rowan to read.

She was so entranced by each story, Rowan didn’t have the heart to shirk his duties so he wound up doing voices and accents for the different characters.  He made sure to send Aelin messages along the way--ignoring the ones from his old contacts--and just tried to keep Meiri entertained.  

Eventually Marion came over with a coloring book and giant box of crayons for Meiri to color with.  The girl happily took the items and set to work, choosing to go sit in a corner next to a giant stuffed elephant.

Marion sat in one of the kid chairs across from Rowan, chin propped in one hand.

“You know,” she said, “that kid is one of a kind.  And Aelin loves her more than anything.”

It wasn’t anything Rowan was surprised to hear.  Meiri did seem like a different kid than most.  And Aelin’s love for her was one of the first things Rowan had noticed in the diner that first day in Terrasen.  He eyed Marion wondering what she was getting at.

“When Chaol and Aelin were dating, well, if you could call it that,” Marion shrugged, “he wanted something serious and she was just trying things out.  Anyways.  They were doing whatever and he tried to find her family.  Or…I think he did.  Almost told them exactly where to find her too.  I’ve…I’ve never seen her more upset.”

Marion paused, picking at a hangnail.

“I don’t know exactly what happened in her past,” she finally continued, “but I know enough.  And if…if it was anything of what I went through then she deserves to be happy, to have this time and place for her and her kid.  You should have seen the look on her face when Chaol said he found her cousin.  I swear she was going to leave right then and there, murder him too.  She just wants to raise her daughter.”

The words sunk in slowly, taking their time to nestle into Rowan’s brain.  He could hear what was left unsaid and come to his own conclusions.  It didn’t mean he could trust any of it.  Not that Marion or Aelin would blatantly lie about this sort of thing, but they could certainly leave out bits of truth.

“I’m just here for myself,” Rowan said. “I’ll leave as soon as Emrys is back on his feet.”

Marion smiled. “Didn’t you say the same thing about your car?”

She was, unfortunately, right.

“Rowan?” Meiri said, scrambling up from beside that stuffed animal.  Crayons went flying as she moved. “I’m hungry.”

He smiled at the little girl with her wild hair and mismatched clothes.  Confident and strong just like her mother.

“Alright, let's get something to eat.”

If there was anyone that could keep her child safe from the wiles of the world, Rowan was sure it would be Aelin.  He just hoped that one day, maybe, she’d be able to stop running.

…

The heat of Kovac dissipated only slightly when a storm blew in.  Instead of being a dry and consuming heat it had turned into a melting pot of humidity. Dust and sand kicked up from wind and the few trucks that were still on the move, leaving everything in a hazy glaze.  Adding to that a burst of rain and lightning, the desert felt like a whole new type of misery.

Supposedly, the one thing to come of it all was that there would be no scouting or fighting that day.  Rowan wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.  For a while now, he’d felt on edge.  As if he were always waiting for something to happen--and IED to go off, a sneak attack to occur, something that he couldn’t fix.  

He tried to play it cool, to ignore the way his thoughts would latch on to every negative and dangerous thing.  Tried to pretend he was being logical in his worry, that he was simply preparing for what may come.  It was flimsy at best and a part of him knew it.  Ever since the raid last week and the reality that they'd be getting a new commander…Things were changing and Rowan  didn’t like it.  Lorcan or Gavriel were more than capable leaders and if Maeve wanted to divide the squad, she could just keep Gav in his current position and promote Lorcan.  Or even Vaughan.  Bringing in a new body now seemed like a stupid idea.  Rowan knew better than to argue against Maeve when she had her mind set on something, though.  It wasn’t worth the demerit.

He simply tried to keep his frustration at bay.  His squad mates had only offered the usual glare in Maeve's direction at the announcement.  They each felt the frustration but there was nothing to be done at this point.  Not if they wanted to keep things running smoothly.

Unfortunately, they were set to meet Hammel that day.  He’d arrived sooner than anticipated, which Rowan would choose to see as a good thing, a way to get into a new rhythm and normal before the next planned raid.  In the week since the announcement, Rowan had done his own background check on Hammel.  Perhaps it was an abuse of power to call in the favors he did, but he’d wanted to learn everything about the man he could.

He’d spent the last year and a half in Oregon on a small base up there as a trainer.  Many of the men he’d worked with had gone on to get accommodations, many even being stationed in Kovac as well.  There was a brief incident report of someone breaking into his off base apartment and beating his girlfriend before stealing some cash and the tv.  Something about that didn’t seem right, but it was only one report relating to Hammel.  He was an excellent marksman and scout but his true skills lied in stealth work.

Officially, Hammel was a good soldier.  One of the best.

Unofficially…well.  There was only one comment from a young cadet who had been discharged part way through boot camp after “over escalating” a situation between her and a fellow cadet.

Lieutenant Hammel did not take my comments or safety seriously in this investigation.  I would formally request placement in another unit. The cadet had instead been honorably discharged before vanishing entirely.

It wasn’t a lot to base his opinion on, but Rowan was already coming to his own conclusions.

So when the official call came in for the Cadre, as they were known by, to meet with Hammel--Rowan did his best to let the irritation fade away.

"Gentlemen," Hammel greeted once they were all seated.  

The briefing area was as hot and muggy as ever, settling them all with another level of discomfort.  

Lorcan as usual chose a back corner seat, hardly sitting at attention.  Gavriel maintained his decorum and the twins were as lanky and childish as ever.  Rowan glanced at Talbot who had been whisked into the squad after the last raid and Hernandez transferred him.  Rowan didn't know the reasonings, but he liked the kid so he didn't argue.

Before them now, Hammel stood tall and at ease.  Though, there was no mistaking the cold silver of his gaze and the harsh lines of his face.  His red hair hung to his shoulders and he wore a cold ring on one finger.  He didn't seem the least bit concerned with anything but himself.

“I've heard you're undisciplined and like to cause problems."  Hammel raised a single brow looking as though he couldn't have cared less about the lot of them. "Not under my command.  There have been too many slip ups and unsuccessful raids.  These mess ups will no longer happen or I'll make sure the rest of your weeks here are as miserable as your lives."

It was quite the speech, not that Rowan was truly intimidated by it.  He'd already experienced hell and this man wasn't going to make things worse.

"We'll start with a practice training tomorrow, no matter the weather conditions, you've got to be capable of working through anything.  Sniper!"

Rowan sat up, lifting his chin. 

"Only five confirmed kills," Hammel lifted a lip. "Do better."

"None of my men have died in the last two tours I’ve done," Rowan said, "sir.  I've protected my men."

That sneer only broadened. "When I give you an order, soldier, you accept it.  No arguments."

Rowan only stared at the other man.  He fought the urge to gauge everyone else's reactions.  Hell, he wanted to see Gav most of all.  Gav who’d been their leader for nearly two years now and was being sidelined for someone younger.  

Rowan had known war wouldn’t be easy.  He’d known he would kill, potentially be killed.  He knew his perceptions of life would change and that nothing, nothing, would be the same when he was finished.  But to be told to take more lives?  To add more chaos into the world?

“Yes, sir.”  Rowan didn’t salute.  He didn’t move a muscle until Hammel turned the conversation to the next raid that would take place as soon as the storm passed and this time they would see results.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tumblr isn't allowing me to tag blogs properly so any reblogs would be greatly appreciated! <3

[big-ass-magnet]

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (Ch 2)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Barry has left Agatha in the care of his mother, Teodora. As far as anyone knows, she is the daughter of a family friend and Teodora's ward, keeping her company while her sons are missing and her husband's illness keeps him on death's doorstep. It is up to Lady Teodora to ensure that no one questions this story.

A prequel to 'Helpful, in a Heterodyne Sort of Way'!

<Last Chapter | Next Chapter>

AO3 link

The important thing, Teodora knew, was to get ahead of any rumors before they could start. Even the possibility of a new Heterodyne would bring the eyes of Europa onto them.

So the day after Barry left, Teodora took Agatha Sannikova with her to the market.

Teodora had made a point not to let her sons’ disappearance or her husband’s illness interrupt her schedule, even after all this time. She hoped it brought a sense of normalcy to the people of Mechanicsburg in a time of such uncertainty. The Heterodynes are out of reach, the Jägers are gone, an outsider rules the town, but it is Wednesday and Lady Teodora is going to the market.

Sometimes she worried it was instead a reminder of a family dead in all but name, the last survivor and the only one they didn’t need.

The moment she set foot outside, she knew she had been right to move quickly. All eyes fixed on the little girl at her side. She saw people drifting together in twos and threes, whispering to each other, a hopeful hunger in their expressions.

“Now, you stay close, Agatha,” Teodora said as they approached the market stalls.

“Yes, Ms Teodora,” Agatha said obediently. Teodora saw that reach the people’s ears, souring hope with the first touch of uncertainty. She prayed this would work. Oh, why couldn't Barry have taken the girl to Punch and Judy? But she had not been able to find the strength to insist. Now that she knew Agatha existed, Teodora wanted her close.

“We’re going to go straight to the grocer’s first, but on our way back, I want you to look around at the stores and pick out two new things for your room. You'll be living with me from now on, and I want the house to feel like a home to you.”

Agatha gave her a strange sort of smile—the indulgent kind an adult might give a child who was being unrealistic.

“Okay.”

And sure enough, on the way home, the things Agatha considered were all small trinkets, things that could be easily tucked into a bag or a pocket. Barry had been right—the lack of stability had begun to take its toll.

“How about one of those paintings?” Teodora suggested. “Maybe that one, with the clank in the forest? Your uncle said you like clanks.”

“It is pretty,” Agatha said, softly, longingly. But then she shook her head. “Too big.”

“They’ll bring it to the house if you don’t want to carry it.”

Again that indulgent smile.

“To fit in my bag, Ms Teodora. And too expensive to leave behind.”

“You don’t have to put it in a bag—”

But Agatha’s eyes went wide.

“Look at that!”

She obediently did not release Teodora’s hand, but instead dragged her all the way across the road to a little cart of novelty clocks. All eyes were on Agatha now, and Teodora’s heart began to beat faster. If this didn’t work—if Agatha didn’t—if the people didn’t care about the—

The clockmaker had been keeping his hands busy, and showing off his skill, by assembling a clock right at the stall. Agatha stood on tiptoes to see all the pieces and tools, her eyes shining.

“Wow!”

“You like it?” he asked, pleased. He lifted the half-finished clock and turned the back to Agatha so she could see the mechanism. “Go on, push that button there.”

“But it’s not done yet,” Agatha said. “I can see the pieces that are missing.”

The clockmaker’s eyes lit up, and a wave of nausea rolled over Teodora.

“Can you now?” he said, smiling. “Well it can still run, even without all the parts.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Just can’t keep time very well.”

Warily, eyeing the clockmaker as if he might be pulling some trick, Agatha reached out and pushed the button. A tiny counterweight dropped, and cogs began to turn. Agatha watched, eyes alight, fixing her attention on each part of the mechanism one at a time, fascinated by their intricate movements.

“It sounds so much prettier than a pocket watch,” she said.

“That’ll be the pendulum. You can’t put one in a watch, ‘cause it only works properly when it’s stable. As soon as you move it around, physics kicks in and plays hob on the tempo.”

“What if you built it so the pendulum ignored the physics?”

The clockmaker smiled, folded his hands on the table before him, and leaned forward. His manner was casual, but he was eager, and all around Teodora could feel the Mechanicsburg crowd begin to form around them. Moths to the Heterodyne flame. 

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

Agatha gnawed on her lip, eyes flicking over the clockwork.

“Something gyroscopic—no, but that would only be good for keeping it still. Maybe some sort of counterweight! Something that could—”

Suddenly she let out a cry of pain and grabbed her head.

“Ow! Ow, ow ow—”

Teodora wrapped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders as the clockmaker sat back, alarmed.

“I didn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Teodora reassured him. “She gets these headaches sometimes, when she gets...overwhelmed.”

And that did it. The light left his eyes. All around them, Mechanicsburg turned away. The whispers faded, the rumors stillborn.  Whoever this mysterious girl was, she wasn’t the mystery they wanted. Whoever heard of a Heterodyne who got headaches when she thought too hard—and over something as simple as clockwork?

“Ah. Poor thing.”

Teodora felt relieved.

And she felt like a monster.

“Come along, dear,” she said, soothingly, leading Agatha away. “Let’s get you home and you can lie down.”

“It hurts,” Agatha sobbed.

“It’ll be alright,” Teodora said, every word burning like hellfire in her mouth. “You just need to be sure to take it slow, next time.”

[thatssonanii]

Aisle 32

A/N: Its short buuut felt like a good stopping point lol and Yes, he got friends!😂😂😂😂

Grocery shopping was usually Haleigh's favorite thing to do when she had help and today she was going at it alone. Her family all had other obligations, though they encouraged her to wait till the next day she didn't want to and decided she could handle it alone. As she stood on the detergent aisle she started to realize that she probably should've waited.

"Why do they always put the one I like on the top shelf?" She mumbled, rubbing over her round six month belly. She giggled feeling the kicks. "You don't know either huh? Guess we'll have to get something else for now."

Looking at her options, she realized that she didn't like any of them. There were no employees around to ask for help and she was not about to ask a stranger. Biting her lip, she thought about all the chastising her mom, aunts and Nana had done when she even looked like she wanted to reach over her head or pick something heavy up.

"If you don't tell, I won't." She said to her belly before reaching for the jug of detergent.

As she was trying to pull the jug down, another patron came down the aisle. His cart came to a stop in front of the dishwasher detergent, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder. While he was listening to the person on the phone tell him what kind to get, he saw Haleigh out of the corner of his eye struggling to get the jug down then noticed her belly. Telling the person on the phone to hold on, he put it in his pocket then quickly went over to her.

"Let me get that for you." He said softly.

Haleigh glanced over at him and gave him a small smile as she stepped back. "Thank you."

He pulled it down, placing it in her cart and smiled at her. "You're welcome. That's way too heavy for you to be pulling down."

"Gotta do what you gotta do sometimes," she shrugged, "Thanks again. I really appreciate it."

Giving him another smile, Haleigh pushed past him continuing her shopping. He was cute but she knew on the slim chance that he was single she had way more going on than he wanted to deal with so she kept walking. She loves her baby so much already but thinking somebody was cute was how she got this way. Just another guy to leave her when things got too serious.

Thirty minutes later, she finished getting everything on her list and decided to go look at the baby section. Every time she went to a store with a baby section, Haleigh couldn't leave without something for her unborn baby. She had looked on the first two aisles not finding anything she liked, getting to the third she was too busy looking at the items that she didn't see the other cart before she bumped into it.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I wasn’t paying attention." She apologized quickly.

Looking over at the person's cart she hit, there was that smile again. Only this time it was a bit wider. He looked up from the two sippy cups he held in his hands.

"I'm fine I promise," he assured her. "Are you and your lil one okay?"

Her hand went to her belly feeling the few kicks and laughed softly. "Got a few kicks so we're okay. I really am sorry though."

"You're good, I promise."

The two of them went back to looking at the items on the aisle. Him still trying to pick a sippy cup, her looking at bibs. She could feel him glancing at her but she tried not to look back.

"What're you having? If I can ask."

"Huh? Oh um I don't know yet. My best friends insisted on throwing me a gender reveal this weekend." She explained still looking at the bibs.

He nodded putting one sippy cup back and picking up another. "You got a preference?"

She shrugged a little. "Healthy. You have a kid, huh?"

Looking up from the cups, he gave her a confused head shake. "No. Just a dog. Why'd you ask?"

Haleigh laughed a little pointing to the cups. "You look like you're thinking really hard on which one to get. Figured it must be for your kid."

He laughed. "Oh, oh no. My friends invited me to a baby shower so I'm tryna find things to put in a basket for the mom."

"Ooooh," she laughed, "Well if you know what she's having then get gender specific. If not, gender neutral."

"Smart, that's smart." He winked at her. "Which bibs are you gonna get?"

Haleigh rubbed her face trying to hide her blush. "I think I'm gonna get Mickey Mouse. Boys and girls like Mickey. Right?"

"Yeah they do. I'm Ardian by the way." He said sticking his hand out which she shook.

"Haleigh."

"Nice name. How far along are you?"

"24 weeks as of yesterday."

He nodded, looking over at her. "Congratulations, I don't know why I hadn't said it before. I'll let you go, don't wanna take up all your time."

"Thank you," she said softly, "You're not but I do need to get out of here before I spend more money. Have a good day, Ardian."

He chuckled, sliding out of her way. "You too, Haleigh. I hope you have a good gender reveal."

As they passed each other, they shared another smile and watched her leave the aisle shaking his head at himself. Both were chastising themselves for flirting with someone that was more than likely taken.

[itstopplingdomino]

Hogtober, Day 07 — Honeydukes

a/n: Based on my WIP published fic of Garreth called Burning Desire. A point of view in between after the argument and before the reconciliation. Can be read as a stand alone anyway!

The irony.

Funny how one could stand in a sweets shop and feel bitter.

‘No, this one was on me.’ Garreth thought. He really shouldn't roll his eyes at those giggling third years but he did anyway. It reminded him so much of her, of him laughing around with her.

“Noooo! Get those away from me!” She shrieked, arms flailing in an attempt to push Garreth’s invading hand.

“Trust me! This tastes better than it looks.” He insisted, ducking a stray hit.

“It’s green, Garreth.”

“Well, isn't that a good thing? Seeing you are a Slytherin and all.”

She punched his shoulder. “No cakes should be green.”

“Just a bite. And if it's revolting after all, then I shall do your potion assignments for a week.” He grinned, placing the cake down on the table and scooped half a spoon of it.

“Fine, but I rather do my own assignments.” She leaned in. “I fear you’d jeopardise my grades with your creative methods of brewing.”

Garreth feigned offence. “How dare you. I am one step closer to becoming a potion master, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh, sure..” She chuckled, her lips parted as she allowed Garreth to feed her the monstrous-looking cake. His heart had never felt warmer.

Another bout of laughter, followed by a loud crash cut the Gryffindor’s reminiscing session abruptly. His head whipped to the source, the same third-years stood by a fallen cart, its candy sticks and various packaged cookies scattered across the floor. The coming stomps an impending sign that a scolding was about to happen.

Garreth left the store before that.

“You didn't get anything?” Percy pushed off the wall, a new book clutched under his arm. His roommate looked at Garreth’s empty hands.

He simply shrugged, heading towards the gate. It was almost time for dinner anyway.

“Huh..” Percy followed suit. “I really like their green cake. Looks appalling but surprisingly delicious.”

Garreth shot him a look. Then he smacked his back.

“What was that for!?”

“Nothing.” The red-head smiled. “Come on. If we don’t hurry, Leander’s going to sulk again. He's been saying I'm favouring you more these days.”

“Adorable, that one.”

Garreth shot Percy another look.

“Oh come on, you know what I mean.”

Then Garreth gave him another smack at his back.

They continued their banter all the way to Great Hall, joking around and throwing jabs about each one's relationships or the lack thereof. They were joined by Leander soon after, chastising Garreth for not getting him anything from Honeydukes which were quickly forgotten when Percy gave the book the tall teen had been looking for.

“You are my best mate, now that Weasley’s no longer one.” Leander confessed, eyes sparkling as he traced a finger down the book’s spine.

“Yeah, yeah, what an ungrateful twat. I helped you with Charms essay, didn't I?”

And the banter continued.

Through it all, Garreth ignored that irritating nag at the back of his mind. He shoved down the longing that climbed its way through his head, kicking the wishful thinking – Would've been better if she's the one I’m laughing with – out of it.

Funny how one could be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.

The irony is sickeningly bitter.

[adventuresloane]

The Wanted (Revised Hurloane Fic) - Chapter 10

“They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short ‘n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids.”

Hurley’s a bounty hunter, the Raven is an outlaw, and the desert is a lonely place.

(The 50k+ Old West Hurloane AU Where Hurley Becomes A Thief Too that no one asked for. Edited and reposted from an old version of the story. T for non-graphic violence and discussions of death/injury/trauma.)

Read on AO3

Other Chapters

The trains came to be their favorites. Up close, the sound was wonderfully brutal. Hurley's ribs clattered with the hiss and clank of it all, and it made them revel inside.

Sometimes the two of them went for the supply trains. Even the rail lines meant for carrying herded cattle to market typically had some cars stocked with other goods, rattling unguarded at the tail ends of the locomotives. If they were lucky, they could find supplies they needed and take them. When they didn't, though, they would sometimes ride in the rumbling black gut of the great creature anyway, stowing in the cars with room for them. (Hurley insisted they only do that if there was also room to load the ever placid horse, who traveled splendidly, thank the gods.) This way, they could travel in hours what might have taken them days otherwise. Hurley would watch the land blur as the train sped by. They learned to fall asleep to the din that wrapped around them like a quilt, to the shaking of the sliding car doors.

Sloane showed them how to pass between the cars as the train was moving. The first few times, Hurley had held their breath as they watched her skirt along the thin lip of metal that jutted out just above the wheels. It seemed that any misplaced jolt could knock her off and into the dirt. But she was calm and practiced about it, and Hurley would soon find that her hands had pads of callouses that let her keep her grip on one car while she edged toward its neighbor with her foot. She slipped between them in a fluid movement, graceful as a night-colored cat. Hurley got it eventually, with more than a little quite literal hand-holding, but they were always a little less adept, their arms and legs shorter than Sloane's. So it was she who went exploring from cart to cart for goods.

When they couldn't see each other as they traveled like this, Hurley would whistle in a pitch high enough to be heard over the constant noise. One note swinging up, like the sound of a question, into two short chirps. I'm here. Where are you? Sloane's reply came in the form of a slightly lower, two-tone whistle. Right here.

Because of her greater agility and experience, it was easily decided that, when it came to hits on passenger trains, Sloane would be the one to actually climb aboard, sneaking on once the steam engine had slowed enough to allow it. This was fine by Hurley. What they could do was ride.

This was where the true cacophony began. When the word of a train burglary in progress in the back cars reached the conductor and crew up front, the train would begin to strain desperately to outpace its thieves. Every furious sound in the world seemed to burst forth from it then. It banged and howled and screeched with its effort. And it never mattered. Hurley and the horse that worked so well beneath them would keep with it, get close enough to the moving metal for the shining stirrups to clatter against it, push into its wind. They felt it sting them through the openings of their mask.

(The mask is something that Sloane had to insist on, at first. "Someone could pick out those red curls from a mile away," she said one day before she abruptly dropped a piece of knife-carved, pale dead wood into their lap. It was light in their hands when they picked it up; turning it over revealed the visage of a hollow-eyed ram, with thick horns curling backward. To hide the top of their head if they were to put it on, they realized.

"Do you really think I need this? You're still the one actually doing the stealing, you know."

"You didn't see the same paper I did, huh?" she responded easily. "They're already calling you the Ram. You don't do anything by halves."

They did need to hide their face, of course. Even if they weren't going to stick with the thievery for long, just as long as they were traveling with Sloane, they would still need to ensure that they weren't seen. But Hurley didn't know how to explain that, at the time, they felt that there was a strange sense of finality to the mask, and not only for the way that it resembled a skull. They felt that they were about to lock themself into a narrative that hadn't really been of their own construction, donning a title that was not theirs.

Now they got it. Now it fit. Now they put their head down and charged.)

Hurley would ride to keep up with the speeding train, and sure as the sun, Sloane in her hat and bandana would appear at the windows of a car before long. When she did, it meant that she was ready. She would open up the window and, depending on what could be managed in that particular moment of chaos, either jumped deftly onto the horse or controlled her fall and rolled as she hit the ground. Either way, Hurley would be ready to pick her up and rush away. The gun, a large bulge at her side, would have remained undrawn for the whole affair. She had no need. The people onboard saw the Raven and did what anyone would do--and if they didn’t, the Ram, they were all slowly finding out, was there and ready to pull her out.

Ultimately, though, it wasn’t the noise or the wind that got to them most. It was the faces.

Hurley had known a number of faces. Some of them were baby-smooth and forever dustless. Some were neatly positioned between a shiny top hat and a crimped neckerchief, or between a lace hem and a hat with a great ostrich plume rising from it. All of these, they had known before. The same kinds had come before with shining white teeth to take their land away. For them, conquering the acres that had belonged to Hurley's family was as simple as presenting a paper.

It was easy to tell who on those trains with the red cushioned seats could afford to lose a little. They couldn't help but show it.

These were the people who leaned their heads out the train windows to watch them flee out of sight without fail, their witnessing while Hurley dodged bullet after bullet. They got drunk on it, sometimes. These were the ruffled chickens robbed by a fox in the false safety of their coop. To these people, as they road away, they become nothing more than a path of dust and a curse in the mouths of others. And then for the dust to dissipate but for the curse, for their name invoked, to remain bitter in the mouths that had tasted the silver spoon...how incredible. How impossible.

They adored the impossible.

And it wasn't just the faces of their victims. It was her face, too, when she turned around to see how they’d left their pursuers in the dust. How she looked, for just a moment, like she could pluck up the world for herself and stuff it in her coat pocket. That got Hurley too, that they could help to make her smile in the way that she only smiled after she had gotten well away.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

📷 + OPHELIA AND/OR RUBEDO IF MUN SO CHOOSES! <3

Send 📷 to have a picture taken of your muse with SCP-978 || ACCEPTING

🐇 || ooc. Rubedo got another ask of his own so he’ll be done there!

Subject: SCP-8713-B

Initial photo activity: Subject was photographed from the waist up while standing before a white wall while smiling for the camera and with neutral pose.

Result: Undetermined, Subject destroyed photograph before the details of its contents could be transcribed. Assistant Researcher ████ Mason who had taken the photograph and viewed it prior to destruction recalls the image taking place in a kitchen which appeared consistent with the 1930s. The photo to Mason's recollection contained 6 humanoid figures in some manner of leisure and play, a further two humanoid individuals can be seen outside a window and seemed to be speaking with one another. None of the contents of the photograph where graphic or explicit in any nature.

Comment: It seems that some manner of the contents appeared to trigger SCP-8713-B to experience an episode of brief and intense discomfort and paranoia. SCP-8713-B, following its destruction of the photograph was found to have returned to its containment cell of its own volition and refused to discuss either the contents of the photograph or its reaction to it when prompted. SCP-8713-B did not emerge from its containment chamber for the duration of its shift. SCP-8713-B, for reasons unknown, did not write of the events or contents of the photograph within its journal during its evening entry.

It was remarkably, no, even comically simple for Mason to get a photo of 8713-B, or Ophelia as he had come to know her. He remembered hearing tales of juniors having to run beside her as she insisted on continuing her work in the clinic rather than heeding their request for interview, or better, the tales of researchers, bright eyed and bushy tailed being severely instructed to make themselves useful or to leave, and walking dejected from the clinic.

Mason snickered to himself at the thought of that, he’d been working with Ophelia for what? Three years and she was nothing if not dedicated and no nonsense. He once mused that had she a mean bone in her body, she’d make a fine drill instructor. But for the topic at hand, he had been pleasantly surprised to find her agreeable as he pulled her off to the side.

Initially, when he had approached her, her voice held reluctance, like a dog pulling on its lead— though her task had thankfully been moving fresh bed linens to empty rooms, she hated to leave a job unfinished and hated worse to be distracted on the job. But she listened, Mason was a friendly face, she trusted him enough to think he would not waste her time, and when he posed to her the question of being a willing participant to a ‘new form of photography,’ her eyes lit up with curiosity and interest. Perhaps she could step away, just this once, for learning! They were not busy after all!

Standing with her back against the plain white wall, a broad smile worn across her face as proudly as a necklace of diamonds. She stared at the camera held aloft in Mason’s hands, only briefly blinking and flinching at the flash, before turning her attention back to him and opening her mouth to speak as the internal printer churned to lift and began humming as it printed her picture into Mason’s waiting hand.

Ophelia asked him, voice still bubbling with restrained girlish excitement about what they did now, as he laid the photo facedown on a cart, and he responded with a smile that they’d wait, and wait they did. Standing there in an awkward silence, waiting for the photo to develop. Minutes ticked by, passing like gallstones as the two waited, trepidation dragging every second on as though it were an hour.

After ten minutes, whether through frustration or confidence, he couldn’t tell himself. Mason threw up his hands and responded in the affirmative, whether or not it was truly done be damned, as he didn't want to wait an instant longer, and reached for the photo. Moving close, Ophelia peered over the Mason's shoulder, waiting to get the first glimpse at the image. However, as he turned the image around, Ophelia's blood ran cold and she froze in place, stuttering and stammering over her words as she asking, no, instructed Mason to drop the photo, before lunging forward and snatching the film from his grasp before he had even taken its contents to memory.

He had been about to complain and tell her to return it when he noticed the change in her demeanor and appearance, though still herself, her eyes were wild and her body tense and defensive- like a rat cornered by a cat, she stared at him and him her in complete silence, before he watched in horror as she not only ripped the photo to shreds as though it were nothing more than damp tissue shoved the remains into her mouth and ate it. After that, and with no further word, Ophelia ran off, leaving Mason in shock and awe and abject confusion. What the hell was that about?

[hush-writes-preg]

During pandemic, is it possible to witness Frontliners who are about to pop going into labour and finally give birth in their PPEs while they still need to serve the patients ?

A PPE being a slightly more casual version of a hazmat suit?�� Fuck yeah, we can. 

It'd been nearly two weeks since the epidemic went global, and the government had declared an 'all hands on deck' situation at every local hospital and clinic in the tri-state area.  It didn't matter what a healthcare provider's age, gender, or work status might be; if they were healthy, they were expected to be doing shifts somewhere to keep up with the growing need. 

And apparently a provider's current state of pregnancy didn't matter either if your own condition or that of several of your fellow nurses said anything. 

You and at least two other heavily pregnant Frontliners waddled through the halls of an overpopulated city hospital, your bellies straining the front of your PPE suits to the limit as you struggled to keep up with the patients assigned to you.  The fully enclosed suit sealed you inside of its protective antimicrobial fabric, leaving only your face visible behind a thick sheet of clear plastic.  The powered, belt-mounted respirator took some getting used to, but at least you gained some small comfort knowing that you breathed filtered air. 

You'd been drafted into a large quarantine section under heavy lock-down-- meant to keep infected patients from escaping and with all interior methods of communication cut off to prevent the outside world from realizing how dire the situation had grown.  Staff was stretched thin with only a few to a wing as it was, and every set of hands mattered when every room held as many beds and patients that could possibly be jammed inside.  It was the same hospital you'd left on maternity leave only a short while before, but even with your due date fast approaching, you couldn't bear to leave your coworkers hanging. 

Though you couldn't help wondering what idiot had put together your current staff roster.

You kept catching Jenny, one of your trio, grabbing at her swollen abdomen on occasion, but she kept insisting that she was fine.  Marisha, a heavily pregnant pediatric nurse who made up the remainder of your group, paused to rub at the small of her back every few minutes but merely shook her head and shot you a strained smile through her mask when you asked how she was doing. 

You'd probably do the same if anyone asked you a similar question.  The Braxton Hicks contractions you'd been feeling on and off all afternoon were only growing worse, and you feared that they weren't quite as harmless as you initially thought.

None of you were 'fine', but what choice did you have but to press on towards the end of your shift?

Six hours.  You could make it six more hours.

It was Marisha who was the first to succumb to your silent, shared suffering, letting out a pained groan as she curled over the handle of her crash cart and clutched at her gravid middle.  "Oh fuck," she whimpered, instinctively dropping into a half squat in the middle of the hallway.  "Oh fuck, I think it's coming!"

"What's coming?" you asked, though you had a sinking feeling that you already knew the answer.  It only took a glance between her legs to spot the bulge of what could only be an emerging infant's head. 

"I've-- I've tried to hold it back, but I can't do it anymore."  Marisha groaned, her head falling back as she grimaced in pain.  "I need to push!"

Grabbing her arm, you tried to pull her upright as you looked frantically up and down the hallway for someone who could help you get her out of quarantine and somewhere safe to give birth.  With the threat of the virus looming overhead, there's no way she could take off her PPE without exposing herself and her baby to its virulent effects.  But the three of you were the only staff currently assigned to this area.  "You can't push, Mars!  Not here, not now!"

"I don't have a choice-- I've got to push!" she wailed, her back arching as she instinctively bore down.  "This baby is coming!"

Shit.  You turned to seek out Jenny, desperate for her assistance, but found the other nurse slumped against a nearby counter and panting softly.  She offered you a weak smile.  "My water broke a couple of hours ago," she admitted, just before her belly visibly quaked and tightened under the grip of a powerful contraction.  The young woman grunted and sank into a squat of her own, her arms wrapping around the large mound of her belly. "I think… I think it won't be long for my twins and me, either." 

Marisha cried out again, widening her stance as more of the baby slid out of her, distending the crotch of her PPE with its emerging bulk.  "Oh god, oh god, I can't get him out!"

You'd just opened your mouth to beg her to stop when your uterus suddenly contracted with punishing force at the same time that an odd, heavy pressure filled your pelvis from within.  You nearly staggered, grasping blindly for the edge of the counter as dawning horror filled your mind.

No amount of screaming on your part would permeate the thick walls and locked doors of this quarantine wing, and you weren't due to be relieved for six more hours. 

If another overworked staff member didn't happen to enter your wing soon and find the three of you, Marisha wouldn't be the only one giving birth in her PPE. 

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

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Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

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[yeeetmeoutside]

Then Came You | Zhongli x Reader - Chapter 4

On the Way

1.6k words

warnings: none

As you had promised Bao, before leaving, you stopped by your shop, searching for Xiu Ying, your regular delivery man. 

On your arrival, Xiu Ying greeted you, limbs covered in bandages. Something primal churned in your gut at the sight and you offered him your thanks for trying to stand up to the Hilichurls. He shook it off, saying that he was only doing his job but you insisted and offered to pay for his medicines. 

After a lot of negotiation, he ultimately reconciled. Zhongli was with you the entire time. When asked about his luggage for the trip he replied respectfully that he wouldn’t be staying at the Inn, instead, he would be back the next morning – as would you. So, in conclusion, somehow you had managed to bag an outing back and forth with a man you didn’t even know until yesterday. 

You were surprised at Zhongli’s concern regarding the monsters; whether you found it offensive or endearing, you didn’t let on. 

It was the latter. 

Zhongli observed your interaction with the delivery man from the distance. So far, you were a kind woman with goodness in your heart towards people who you thought deserved it; as opposed to what he saw earlier in the case of your uncle. 

He didn’t blame you though. From what he had heard at the funeral from your uncle’s friends and colleagues, the man was a saint, a blessing and was taken away too early, all the while you looked like someone who could kill with their bare hands. He knew that as much as you had wanted to jump up and down and scream retorts, you had managed to keep your feelings bottled up. 

Barely. 

‘She has a strong sense of justice. She doesn’t like it when someone favours what she opposes, but she doesn’t let them know out of respect. It’s hard to come by such people these days.’ 

“Miss Y/N, I really appreciate your gesture, but–” Xiu Ying said, bringing Zhongli out of his thoughts. 

“Like I said, it’s fine. Go home now. It’s getting late. And give this to little Dali,” you said, referring to his daughter as you handed him a small braided silver bracelet, with ruby streaks tangled within it. 

He looked back at you in astonishment, putting out his hand to refuse before you gave him a stern look and shut him up. 

‘Persistent.’ 

“We should leave now if we are to make it at the Inn before sunset.” You called out to Zhongli, who agreed with you and thus, the two of you left Liyue Harbour; riding off into the sunset. In a cart. 

The journey was a little awkward. With nothing to do, you decided to give your eyes some rest as the cart trudged along the dirt path. You put out a hand to the Vision secured around your waist, the thrum of power a steady beat against your fingers. You had picked it up after your lunch with Zhongli; hurrying in and out while he waited outside. When you had returned, you caught him observing the open area at the Yujing Terrace, right where the Exuvia had fallen from the sky. 

‘Was it rash to discuss my conspiracies with a stranger?’ You had thought to yourself. But out they went through the window when he turned around and smiled at you, butterflies popping in your stomach. 

‘He’s so handsome.’ 

“If I may,” Zhongli said suddenly, “An electro vision. It’s been a while since I’ve come across a wielder of lightning.” You opened your eyes, seeing Zhongli’s finger point at the purple orb now resting on your stomach. 

“This Vision… belonged to my mother.” Zhongli’s eyebrows raised. Visions couldn’t be passed down. It loses its powers if someone other than the beholder was to wield it. 

“She was from Inazuma. However, my parents moved to Liyue when I was barely a toddler.” 

“She passed away almost ten years ago,” you explained, a sudden weight pressing on your chest. 

“My condolences,” Zhongli replied respectfully. It still didn’t clear his doubts. If your mother was deceased, then the Vision should have faded. It should be nothing but a flimsy piece of jewelry by now. 

“After I reached the legal age, I used to rage at the local taverns once a month. One time, I had the Vision with me… It-it was my mother’s birthday,” you sighed. “So off I went to drink my sorrows away. But I guess I had a little too much that night,” you scratched your cheek. Zhongli placed a hand under his chin, listening intently. 

“There are some murky, foggy parts where I drunkenly explain to a random stranger about my parents, after which… I passed out. I woke up feeling groggy, with a warmth in my palms,” you smiled, recollecting your panic at the time. 

“The Vision was glowing purple.” 

You had said too much, you realised. Clearing your throat, you straightened, folding your legs underneath yourself. Something about him made you want to pour your deep, dark secrets right into his palms. He had sneaked up on you so easily. Talking with him made you feel… light. 

Zhongli leaned back. “Someone resonated with your Vision?” You dipped your head. “Was it the stranger?” 

“Possibly. I tried to look for her after that day, asking the bartenders to keep an eye out for a middle-aged woman with brown hair. Haven’t heard back yet.”

“Would you recognise her if you saw her now?” 

“I don’t think it's likely. I was bat-crap hammered,” you snickered, earning a smile from Zhongli. “I think you and a distant friend of mine would get along great,” he mused, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the straw wall of the cart.

You were about to reply when the cart rolled over what felt like a giant stone, making it shake violently. As a result, you lost your balance and landed right on top of Zhongli. Your hands held onto his arms for support, feeling rock hard muscle underneath. Your eyes met, warmth rushing to your face, turning it crimson. You pulled away, getting on your knees when the cart shook again and you fell once more onto him, a squeak escaping your throat, this time his hands on your waist and yours on his chest. 

Zhongli’s eyes widened; his ears hot. He wanted to let go of you, but his arms wouldn’t move. Unknowingly, he gazed into your eyes, noticing the colour for the first time. The light from the setting sun reflected against your irises, giving them a glass-like finish. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

You froze, taking in his face framed perfectly by his bangs. Your heart pumped as if it would jump out of your chest, stomach flipping over and over, your gut screaming at you to get away, but you just… couldn’t. What was a moment staring into each other’s eyes; almost felt like millennia. And… you didn’t want to let go. 

“I am so sorry for that!” The cart driver called out from the front, rushing to check on the two of you. Immediately, realisation struck and you both retreated, leaving more space between yourselves than before. You turned away, face still cerise and hot. You had never experienced intimacy before although you had read plenty about it. It was much stronger than what was described in those damned books you had back home. 

The cart driver emerged, scanning the area. “Did anyone get hurt?” 

“No–” Zhongli’s voice broke off. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, speaking in a graver tone. “No, we’re okay,” he hid his mouth with his fist, trying hard not to display himself so ruffled. The cart driver bowed, apologising for not noticing the big rock. You waved him off, saying it was alright, even though you still couldn’t bring your eyes to meet Zhongli’s. 

You got off the cart, wanting to get as far as you could from the said man. In a feeble attempt to look uninterested, you stared at the wheels of the cart and coincidentally found the source of the ruckus. 

A Noctilucous Jade ore. You looked around and spotted several more, dispersed randomly. “Hey, look at this,” you called out to Zhongli, head cleared and focused on the task that lay ahead of you. He weakly climbed out of the cart, still shaken up until you showed him the Jade ore. 

“They are here,” his forehead creased. “But we are miles away from the Guili Plains.” 

“They returned to their original hideout,” you deducted. One by one, you picked up the ores and handed them to Zhongli who cradled them in his arms. The cart driver watched as you walked a bit further and peeked behind several hills, until you found a whole camp of Hilichurls huddled between two, dancing around a fire, the cart full of Jade ores heaped against a tree. 

Electricity rushed through your veins, as red-hot anger boiled to the surface. You walked back to where Zhongli stood and looked him in the eyes, all signs of nervousness vaporised. 

“Wait here, don’t follow me. It’s not safe. I’ll climb up there,” you said pointing to the top of the hill, “and call out and then we can go ahead,” you said to both, the cart driver and Zhongli. 

“Y/N–” Zhongli called out but you were already sprinting towards the hill. You climbed it in three leaps and counted your opponents. 

“Ten Hilichurls, two hydro Samachurls and one Mitachurl,” you said out loud to yourself. 

“Easy.”

[cowboycakes]

Hi! ur writing is incredible and i saw that requests were open and i just had to go for it. could you possible write a ReinerxFem! reader where she’s really seriously injured and tries to hide it from everyone, until she passes out in Reiner’s arms (cliche i’m sorry) and he’s just SO mad at himself for not noticing before and he’s so worried and he cares for the reader so much while she’s unconscious and after she wakes up? Just like so much fluff and angst and Reiner being a guilty fucker as he is but also like extremely protective and caring? Sorry it’s so specific. Thank you!🥺❤️

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this fluffy little piece!

Tender Loving Care 

Pairing: Reiner Braun x fem!Reader

Themes: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, Reiner’s guilty ass 

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, severe injury/blood and bleeding/recovery, fainting, hospital setting, profanity

Word Count: 1.5k

You stumble into the medical tent, plopping your sweaty body down on a cot. Dirt covered hands rummage through a med kit until they come across a bundle of white bandages. You form them tightly around your thigh, applying pressure that you hoped would stop the bleeding. You’d really messed up on the mission today, completely misfiring your ODM gear when the first titan came into view. Your legs hit a tree branch, hard. Nerves would often get the best of you like that.

And now you’re left with the consequence - a giant gash. The sight of it made you feel faint. Blood wouldn’t cease to seep through the mesh material surrounding your wound, even after rewrapping it a few times.

You pack some extra gauze into it before trying to stand up and go to find the rest of the group. Before you take your first step, the tent door flies open. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What’s wrong?” Reiner shouts, rushing over to your side. 

You secretly relished in the feeling of him worrying for you sometimes. 

This whole dynamic between the two of you began from a chance pairing in some training exercises. Reiner had played the cocky tough guy at first, trying to show off and take over every exercise the two of you were supposed to do together. This irritated you to no end, obviously. Your solution was to get under his skin: make him laugh, tease him and poke at him until that hard headed exterior of his cracked. With time, it eventually did, revealing a big softie who cared for you more than he’d like to admit. 

“Just me folding under pressure. The usual,” you sigh, taping your bandages down, “it’s just a scratch.”

“Don’t lie, let me see it,” he says gently, crouching down in front of you to inspect your injury. 

“No!” you laugh as you press a hand onto your bandage, “I’m perfectly fine! We need to get going, anyway.”

Reiner looks up to you, unimpressed. He could always see right through your fibs. You smile guiltily at him as he stands up. 

“I’m not convinced that’s just a scratch,” Reiner mumbles.

“Sure it is! Just watch,” you declare as you walk toward the exit. 

You couldn’t hide your limp. 

“Nope. Absolutely not,” Reiner interrupts. He stands in front of you and motions for you to get on his back. You sigh, but reluctantly climb on anyway. 

You loop your arms around his neck as he moves his hands to support your thighs, being extra careful around your injury. 

The pain wasn’t getting any duller, even though you weren’t trying to walk now. You lay your cheek down on Reiner’s shoulder as his big strides carried you toward the horse and cart that was set to take everyone back to headquarters. Your body goes limp on the short journey, feet dangling and heavy eyes closing. 

Reiner gently sets you down beside him whenever you two reach your ride. He instinctively puts a big arm around your sore shoulders, pulling your body in close to his warm chest. 

“That better just be a scratch, or you’re never gonna hear the end of it,” Reiner teases, squeezing your arm. 

You huff in response, closing your eyes again. 

The rest of the group eventually arrives at the cart - most of them as sweaty and beat up as you were. However, you were feeling weaker by the minute. 

“Woah, y/n, you ok? You look pale...” you hear Annie question as she boards the cart.

You look down to your leg, quick to cover it with your hands before Reiner could see. Blood had made its way through your bandaging again.

“Yeah, I’m just fine,” you laugh nervously, “thanks Annie.”

You weren’t fine. You were becoming increasingly lightheaded - feeling yourself break into a cold sweat as your breathing becomes shallow.

The cart eventually starts to move, its wooden wheels creaking as it makes its way over the bumpy path home. You try to focus on the scenery moving around you, but your vision is too blurred. 

The state of your body was now making you nervous. You decide to close your eyes and lean your head against Reiner’s chest, gripping a sweaty hand on the back of his shirt, trying to ground yourself.  He rubs his hand up and down your arm slowly in response, calming you down a bit.

“We’re almost home. I’ll get you feeling better once we’re there, ok?” Reiner says.

“Ok…” you smile, beginning to feel yourself fade in and out a bit.

The cart finally comes to a halt. Reiner stands up before you and helps your woozy legs to straighten with the support of his hand in yours. He steps off the wooden cart first, opening his arms up so he could pick you up again. 

“Reiner, I’m okay,” you say, letting go of his hand, “promise.”

You look down at the dusty ground from your position on the cart, now standing completely unassisted.

Ok, just a small step, right? Three feet at most. Just move your foot forward, out into the abyss below the cart. 

Suddenly, your vision is a mere tunnel, blackness encroaching rapidly from the outsides of your eyes. Your body is in free fall, no longer under control of your mind. 

The last thing you sense is a pair of big arms catching you princess style. 

••••••••

“Dammit!” Reiner hisses, turning fast on his heels toward the infirmary. He’s quick to dodge the other scouts walking away from the cart, moving as fast as he could while keeping your limp body still in his arms. 

I’m always so fucking oblivious. Why do I ever listen to her? Always trying so hard to make sure she’s not being a burden. Of course she was lying to me, why couldn’t I have just taken better care of her from the start?

He slides through the infirmary front doors, alerting some nurses behind the desk of your condition. He keeps you tight in his arms as they swiftly guide you to a room. You let out a little groan once he sets you down on the hospital cot. 

God dammit. This is all my fault. Damn I can’t stand to see her face like this, all tensed up - she must be in so much pain. Shit, I am not about to tear up right now. 

Nurses rush over to you, quick to put you on some fluids and start sewing up your leg. Your condition quickly stabilizes, allowing the nurses to give you some much needed time to sleep off your injuries. 

Reiner insisted on taking over the nurses' duties after that point. Big, gentle hands would change out your bandaging every so often, along with keeping cold rags on your head and holding your hand when looks of discomfort appeared on your face. In his mind, it was the least he could do to subdue his guilt - to make it up to you.

He sat there all night, a big nervous mess in the chair he pulled up next to you. He hated getting so emotional like this, especially around someone who he needed to believe he was invincible. Luckily for him, you were still sleeping like a baby, unaware of his concerns. 

You finally open your groggy eyes early in the morning - the sun hasn't even peaked over the horizon yet. Your unfocused gaze wanders to the side of the bed. 

There he is - his head sits in his hand as he stares out the dark window from his chair. His short blonde hair is disheveled, probably from nervous hands running through it all night. Dark circles encompass his upper cheeks. He clearly hadn’t slept a wink.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Reiner jumps a little bit from his daze, quickly turning to look at you. He lets out a long sigh of relief, wiping a hand down his tense face.

“You had me worried sick,” he grumbles. You hum in response, a sleepy smile accidentally forms across your cheeks.

He half-smiles back, studying the sweet look on your face, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Did you sleep?” you question.

He blushes a little, “You don’t need to be worrying about me, y/n.”

You scoot over on your cot, pulling the sheets down to expose a little spot for him to lay. His eyes get wide, darting back and forth between you and the empty half of the bed a few times.

He gets up from his chair quietly and makes his way to your bed, sliding under the white sheets and placing his tired head on the pillow. You move in close, placing your head in the nook between his chest and his bicep. A muscular arm wraps around your waist as his head leans over to rest against yours.

The two of you lay together in the silence of the hospital, chests rising and falling at slowing rates. You felt completely at ease now, knowing all the lengths Reiner had gone to in order to keep you safe.

“You know, once I wake up,” he yawns, his words becoming slower and slower as sleep creeps over him, “you're never… gonna… hear… the end of it.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

[bluefirewrites]

not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick. 

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights- 

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson... 

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research). 

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing. 

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed. 

It was that bad. 

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario. 

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then. 

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list. 

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is. 

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything. 

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.” 

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” 

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?” 

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-” 

“Quick, he’s getting up!” 

“Flynn, wait I’m not-” 

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress. 

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-” 

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her. 

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth. 

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he? 

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.” 

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.” 

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.” 

“Nope, it definitely happened,” 

“Feel free to slap me,” 

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be. 

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage. 

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably. 

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision. 

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave. 

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”. 

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes. 

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.” 

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.” 

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away. 

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”  

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

[some-kindofgnome]

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to. 

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki​ for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖 

Happy New Year, everyone. 

(MASTERLIST) 

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”  

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.  

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.  

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything—”

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin��� pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”  

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”