#sorry i just remembered when i saw someone elses post about the 15k and | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscruff · 2 years ago

Text

one day i'll feel alright (joel miller x reader) 18+

here it is... the Big One. i've been hyping up this part of my soft!dom joel series for a while now (probably too much, i'm sorry) but i'm so excited to finally share it with you guys. i just wanna note that this is not the end of soft!dom joel by any means. i wanna keep writing for these two as long as i can, just probably nothing else as long as this lmao 💖 enjoy! | masterlist summary: joel must finally face his demons when you don't return from patrol. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fem!reader, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), hurt/comfort, angst, praise kink, dirty talk, bathing together, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, size kink, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, yall this one is SO filthy be warned word count: 15k | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major (joel does NOT go golfing in this fic).

The patrol schedule is posted on Monday morning outside the community center and you're one of the first people to look at it, eyes frantically scanning for your name as your heart pounds in your chest. There's no way, you think to yourself, still searching, He wouldn't actually talk to Tommy about a schedule change.

You finally find your name and feel those annoyingly familiar angry tears begin to burn in your eyes.

"Fuck you," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head, "Fuck you, Joel."

You're no longer his patrol partner.

You briefly consider going to his house, pounding on his door until he answers and screaming in his face about how ridiculous and immature he's being, but you realize that doing so would make you just as immature. Instead, you just decide to pretend it never happened, like you never patrolled with him to begin with.

"Steve is nice," one of your friends says to you later, "I like him, you'll get along."

Who the fuck is Steve? you want to ask, but then remember that it's his name that has replaced Joel's on the schedule. To make matters even worse, you're no longer going up to the ski lodge and are instead going out past the perimeter, a patrol location known to encounter raiders pretty often. Fantastic.

The next time you see him is that night in the dining hall, sitting in his usual corner by himself and gulping down bites of chili like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It used to be endearing, those big bites, now it just pisses you off.

He doesn't look at you. Over the past few weeks you'd grown accustomed to him peering over at you every so often, giving you small smiles to acknowledge that he saw you and remembered what the two of you shared every weekend. Neither of you would talk about it; it was private and belonged on the mountain, which you were fine with. At least he'd give you those looks, those smiles, and remind you that you were his pretty girl, his little secret.

Now his lack of acknowledgement, his purposeful ignorance of your presence, it makes you feel sick. You end up having to excuse yourself before you do something you'll regret. Like punch someone.

Steve is nice, but that's your first immediate problem with him. He's too nice. He talks too much, constantly trying to fill a silence that doesn't need it, asks you way too many questions and doesn't seem even vaguely put-out when you give him the most basic possible answers. He's young, probably in his mid-thirties, and you find yourself desperately missing the long and comfortable silences you shared with Joel, his gruff sighs, his breathy chuckles, his music, his books, his age. You realize pretty quickly that you view Steve as a boy and not a man, despite him being older than you. Internally, you tell yourself you need to get a grip.

Your new patrol location isn't as bad as you'd first thought; you're stationed in an abandoned cabin in a wooded area past the perimeter. It's cozy and inviting, kind of reminds you of the ski lodge, which quickly makes you feel depressed. You both take turns circling the area - although at first Steve had suggested you do it together; you'd vetoed that immediately. Your main responsibilities are checking traps and watching out for infected. It's actually a bit more engaging than your previous patrol which you feel slightly grateful for; it's nice to feel busy. And to shut your thoughts up.

At the end of your first patrol with Steve you both walk back to Jackson together in the early morning, him still continuing to chat and tell you things about himself regardless of whether you respond. You're almost back to town when you notice that you're suddenly on the same path you and Joel used to take, the one that leads up to the mountain. You stop in your tracks.

"What time is it?" you ask, interrupting whatever Steve had been prattling on about.

He looks down at his watch, "Almost six," he smiles at you, "We'll be back just in time for breakfast."

Almost six; around the time you and Joel would usually be reaching the bottom of the mountain. Your eyes scan the tree line, brow furrowing as you search for any sign of him making his way down the path. Steve stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.

"Should we...?" he gestures toward the path you're both on, toward town, and you bite your lip in thought.

"Just gimme a sec," you say quickly, still searching, "I wanna say hi to my old patrol partner."

"Aw, that's sweet," he says with a smile, and it's so earnest and endearing that you can't necessarily be annoyed, "My old patrol partner, we-" he starts chatting again, buying you some more time.

Not more than a moment later, two figures suddenly emerge from the trees: Joel and Tommy. You feel your heart start to pound as they walk down the path, neither seeing you and Steve standing there until they're almost directly in front of you. They're caught up in some kind of deep conversation, you might even call it an argument judging by Tommy's stiffness and Joel's flared nostrils.

Tommy sees you first, giving you a wave and a smile, then nudging Joel. Joel follows Tommy's eyeline and suddenly freezes in his tracks, standing still on the path while Tommy continues to approach you.

"Good patrol?" he asks, nodding to Steve, "No trouble?"

"No, sir," Steve says, eager and polite, kind of like a golden retriever puppy, "No problems whatsoever."

"Glad to hear it," he looks at you again, "Hey, mind if we meet later for a chat?"

You wonder if he wants to chat about whatever he'd just been arguing about with Joel. Intrigued, you nod, "Sure."

Joel reaches you then, pace slow and hesitant. You turn to look at him, trying not to let the anger you feel toward him completely overtake you; the last thing you need right now is to either start crying or yelling.

"Hey," you say with a stiff nod.

"Hi!" Steve says beside you, and you try not to wince as he puts his hand out, waiting for Joel to take it, "I'm Steve."

Joel simply stares at him, then his hand, and then looks at you, eyes dark and cold. His gaze slips between the two of you back and forth for a few seconds, expression unreadable, then continues down the path without speaking.

"Meet me by the stream 'round noon, alright?" Tommy says, backing away to follow Joel, "I'll bring you lunch."

You watch as he catches up to Joel, says something to him, but Joel doesn't respond and just keeps on walking ahead, pace quicker and quicker. You're still just standing there watching their forms get smaller when Steve finally speaks again:

"He's...uh...friendly."

You laugh without humor, hitching your pack up your shoulder and starting to walk, "Oh, you have no idea."

You meet Tommy around noon by the stream like he'd asked, crossing the bridge and giving him a small wave of acknowledgement as you approach. He's got a paper bag with him; lunch, just like he'd promised.

"Tuna fish," he says with a kind smile, chuckling at the face you make as he hands the bag to you, "It was either that or egg salad."

"The dining hall must stink today," you reply with a scrunch of your nose, but you take the bag gratefully, "Thanks, Tommy."

"No problem," he gestures toward the bench he's sitting on, inviting you to join him, "Let's talk."

He talks and you mainly listen, nodding along every so often and chewing your tuna sandwich thoughtfully. He starts by thanking you for "everything" you did for him and Maria, which you quickly dodge because all you'd done is take a patrol off his hands - a patrol that's gone back to being his again, but he doesn't mention that part. He talks about how big a help you've been, how he's glad you're here, all the basic stuff he's already told you before. You're almost done your sandwich when you realize he's talking complete bullshit.

"Tommy," you say, balling the paper bag up and shoving it into your pocket, "If you wanna talk about Joel, just do it."

He freezes, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It's a habit he and Joel share, and you can't help but feel an ache in your heart when the image of Joel doing the same thing crosses your mind.

"I'm sorry about the switch," he finally says with a deep sigh, "Joel told me to do it. Not asked, told. He was pretty obstinate, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there."

The words sting, even coming from Tommy. You swallow the last of your sandwich and cast your eyes down to the stream, watching the water ebb and flow as Tommy continues to speak.

"I just want you know that if I had it my way, you'd still be up there with him," he says it earnestly, and you understand now why he'd led with all the compliments and reassurances; he'd thought you didn't know why you'd been switched.

"I know," you say quietly, "Tommy, I know it was Joel's idea. He told me last patrol that he was gonna ask you to take me off ski lodge."

"But why?" he sounds genuinely confused, "It was working so well, Maria and I thought you had a great thing goin'."

You nod slowly, refusing to look at him, "We did. But I guess he never told you any details?"

You sense him shake his head beside you, "No, I spent almost the whole patrol trying to get him to talk about it and he wouldn't. Just kept saying it wouldn't work anymore and that he wasn't gonna say anythin' else about it. Stubborn, my brother. Always has been."

I know, you want to say, believe me, I know.

"So I figured I'd ask you."

You finally look over at him then, "There's not much to say, Tommy."

"But there's somethin'," he leans forward, looking concerned, "I know my brother, I know when he's hidin' somethin'. There's somethin' he's not telling me and I want you to tell me 'cause otherwise I'm just gonna assume the worst."

"Which is...?"

He sighs, leaning back against the bench again, "I don't even know."

You touch the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to decide how to word it. There's absolutely no way you're giving him all the details - or any details for that matter - but you do owe him some kind of explanation considering he's now losing his free time again over this.

"Me and Joel, we..." you bite your lip, "We had...." you sigh and shake your head, "Okay, what I'm about to say does not leave this bench, Tommy. You can tell Maria but that's it."

"Oh shit," he says, eyes going wide, "Were y'all fuckin' up there?"

You groan, leaning forward as your arms fall to your knees and you cover your face with your hands. He's not necessarily correct, but somehow the reality is much more embarrassing to admit. You don't say anything in response, confirming his suspicions.

"Jesus Christ," he says, voice full of genuine surprise, "I was...holy shit, I was not expectin' that."

"Anyway," you say into your hands, skin turning bright red beneath your fingertips, "It's over now and he doesn't want me up there with him anymore, that's all you need to know, okay?"

"Yeah," Tommy says immediately, "Yeah, sure, of course. I wouldn't dream of -" he makes a weird noise, "God, I did not think that's what was goin' on."

"Sorry," you wince, pulling your hands away and sitting up again to look at him. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, arms crossed as he shifts next to you on the bench, cogs turning in his mind. He's probably thinking about what exactly the two of you have been doing up there when you're supposed to be patrolling and the very thought makes both of you cringe simultaneously.

"No, don't apologize, I asked," he shakes his head again, eyes still wide, "I, uh, I won't tell anybody, no worries."

"You can tell Maria," you reiterate, "I don't want you keeping anything from your wife."

"I'll tell her but I doubt she'll believe me," he's staring ahead, still in shock, "You? With Joel? I'm sorry but..." he laughs loudly, still shaking his head, "I didn't think my brother had it in him."

You make a face and stand up, "Okay, that's my cue to leave."

"No, sorry, I'll leave," he stands up as well and digs his hands down into his pockets awkwardly, "I'll uh... be at the bar, if you need me."

He goes to cross the bridge but stops halfway, turning slowly and giving you one last kind and gentle look, apologetic.

"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out," he says, and you can tell he means it, "You're real sweet, my brother's just an ass."

"I know," you say with a small nod, "You did warn me."

"I did," he says it sadly, looking down at the stream, "He has his reasons, though. Maybe he'll tell you one day."

"Maybe."

He turns back around and walks away, leaving you standing there alone by the stream with an ache in your heart that won't go away.

He was pretty obstinate, Tommy's words echo in your head, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there.

You stare at the steady flowing water and try not to think about how much it hurts to know he really said that to Tommy. Is that how little you mean to him? How little what the two of you shared meant? You've known the whole time that it wasn't a "real" relationship, you haven't even kissed him for god's sake, but it was a relationship nonetheless. A little weird, a little timid, but soft and new and safe and warm. And all along you'd just been a distraction for him.

In the deepest parts of yourself you've known this all along, remembered how many times in the past few weeks he said that it would be the last time, that he couldn't do it anymore, and you'd just continued to persist and persist until he'd finally had enough. You hadn't really thought he'd end it, didn't think he really meant it.

The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You continue to just stand there dejectedly, staring at the water and trying to figure out what exactly it is about you that made him simply stop caring - if he even cared to begin with.

A rustle of branches makes you jump and your head snaps up, looking toward the sound. A short distance away you catch a bush moving in an unnatural sort of way, shaking back and forth like someone had been watching from behind it. Quickly, you dash forward and pull the leaves apart to find the culprit.

No one's there.

Hurriedly you wipe your face and walk across the bridge, shoving your hands back in your pockets and hoping someone hasn't just witnessed your moment of weakness. And if they have, they'd better keep it to themselves.

Another week passes without any acknowledgement from Joel. You decide to stop eating in the dining hall because it hurts too much, instead grabbing your meals to-go and eating them either in your house or by the stream. On one occasion you'd arrived at the stream at the same time Ellie had decided to sit and practice guitar, freezing in place when you saw her. You hadn't spoken since that one very brief conversation months ago when she'd asked about your scars. You hadn't known then what you know now.

"Hey," she'd said with a nod, then went back to strumming aimlessly on her guitar, "You can eat your lunch here, I don't mind."

You'd shaken your head and taken a step back, "No, that's okay, sorry," then you'd turned and practically run away from her, not entirely sure why.

She reminds you of Joel, you dummy, you'd thought to yourself on the walk back home, biting down on your lip and trying to keep the tears at bay this time. Everything reminds you of Joel.

On Saturday morning you hear a knock at your door. You're still in bed, confused and bleary eyed as you sit up and wait to hear it again, just to be sure you're not still dreaming. When you hear a second series of knocks you practically tumble out of the bed and run downstairs, blanket trailing behind you as you dart to the front door.

It's Joel, it has to be Joel, he's here to apologize, he's gonna kiss you and tell you he's sorry.

You yank open the door and feel your face fall immediately when you see none other than Steve standing there, hands on his hips. He grins at you but it falters slightly when he looks down and sees that you're still in your pajamas.

"Morning, sleepy head," he greets you, reaching forward to playfully bump your arm with his fist, "Looks like someone missed their alarm."

You stare at him, vision still slightly blurred from sleep. You reach up to rub your eyes so you can see him clearer, make sure he's actually standing there in front of you. Yup, he is.

You force yourself to smile back - something which takes a lot of effort but he seems to find genuine - and reply, "My bad, I guess I did."

"No worries," he says with another wide grin, "We got some time before we need to leave, no rush!"

You force one last smile and shut the door in his face, trying not to slam it - even though you really want to. You look at the clock on the wall over your fireplace and make a face: 4:30. He woke you up at 4:30, half an hour before your alarm.

"Steve, I swear to god," you grumble to yourself, heading for the bathroom as you drop your blanket to the floor and clamor back up the stairs; there's no point in going back to sleep, you're wide awake now and pissed.

You know who'd never do this? Joel.

After a shower and a quick bowl of cereal you head back out to meet Steve, prepared to put on your best everything is great impression again. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open your door.

"Listen, sir, I think you should leave," Steve is saying, voice cracking slightly as he talks to the figure in front of him.

It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't come up yet and everything is muted and hard to make out. It takes you a few seconds to figure out who Steve is talking to, the figure shrouded in shadow and half hidden behind Steve's tall form. You feel your face go pale when you hear him reply.

"You didn't answer my question," the growl is unmistakably Joel's and you grip the edge of the door in your hands tightly, not opening it all the way as you eavesdrop. What the fuck is he doing here? What question?

"I don't think I owe you a reply," Steve replies, attempting to stand his ground but sounding pretty pathetic, voice shaky and high, "I think you should move along, sir."

"What the fuck are you doing at this girl's house at four in the fucking morning?" Joel practically spits, taking a step toward Steve. In response, Steve takes a step backward. He's not a confrontational guy, you know that from the one patrol you've spent with him, "Answer me."

"I'm her patrol partner," Steve finally says, putting his hands up in defeat, "I'm waiting for her to get ready."

"Patrols don't start 'til five thirty."

"It's true, I swear, you literally met me last week!"

That seems to stump Joel, and he must be trying to figure out what to say next when you shove the door open and walk out onto your porch.

"Joel, what the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice steady and firm. He looks over at you in surprise, backing away from Steve. Is it just your imagination or did his expression soften when he saw you? But that doesn't matter now.

You walk down the steps of your patio and stand in front of Steve, shoving him behind you lightly, "Steve, I'll meet you at the gate," you say firmly.

"But-"

"Steve. Please leave. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"...Okay," you can't see him but you hear him walk away from you, trudging down the gravel path in the opposite direction. Once his footsteps are faint enough, you finally address Joel again.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, "Why are you berating Steve in front of my house?"

"Who the fuck is Steve?" Joel asks; the question of the hour.

"My patrol partner," you reply, shaking your head, "I mean, you should probably know that seeing as you're the one who switched with him."

"I don't know who I switched with, Tommy did that," he retorts, looking away from you, down at his boots, "Wasn't my decision."

"Right, 'cause nothing's ever your fault, right?"

He looks back up, a glint of emotion in his eyes that you've seen only once before, "You have no fucking idea," he says, voice heavy and gruff, "Don't even-"

"Don't even what, Joel? You're the one standing in front of my house at the ass crack of dawn yelling at some guy you've never even talked to before. Steve's actually great, by the way," you're laying it on thick but you don't care; you want him to think you've moved on, "Patrolling with him is much better than patrolling with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," you lie, cheeks going red with anger, "He actually talks to me."

"And fucks you, I gather?" he says it with a hard edge that makes your blood run cold.

You stand there just staring at him, mouth agape as he lets what he just said wash over you. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling those godforsaken tears sting in your eyes as you take a step away from him, genuinely fearful that you might end up slapping him or punching him or doing something you shouldn't.

"Fuck you," your voice is small and broken and the tears are already flowing, "Fuck you, Joel."

His expression changes then, and you know an apology is coming. You put your hand up before he can speak, shaking your head.

"Don't," you say, firm and solid, not bothering to wipe your tears as they flick off your face into the grass below, "We're done." You turn on your heel and stomp away from him, feeling a sob wrack through you as you cross your arms and speed walk to the main gate where you know Steve is waiting.

Joel doesn't follow you.

Steve knows better than to question you about what happened. As soon as you'd approached him at the gate he'd seen your tears and the shake of your head when he'd opened his mouth to say something. Ten minutes later you were on your way out to the cabin again without either of you saying a word.

Now you're back on patrol with an aching heart and a huge lump in your throat that won't go away no matter what you do, trailing the perimeter back and forth with your head hung and eyes downcast. Joel's words repeat over and over in your head like a curse, damning you into a feeling of guilt that you don't think you really deserve. You haven't done shit with Steve, the assumption that you'd just immediately moved on from your sexual relationship with Joel to another man makes your blood boil. Who the fuck does he think you are?

Do you really even know him? This whole time he's remained so secretive and aloof, mysterious and cryptic. You hadn't pushed him to reveal more about himself, hoping eventually he'd open up to you, but he never did. Just kept you on a short leash with good girl and pretty girl and the way he'd look at you in those moments where you bared yourself to him.

But you're not much better, you remind yourself with a grimace, and you know it's true. You never told him much about yourself or your past. Yes, you would've, but you didn't. And you're the one who kept asking to get off with him, kept expecting more and being disappointed when he wouldn't give it to you even though he was clear about his boundaries.

"But that doesn't give him the right," you mutter to yourself, still walking through the muddy grass, deep in thought, "It doesn't make what he said okay."

No, it doesn't. But maybe he's hurting more than he lets on. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry for him as you'd thought. Why the fuck had he been snooping around your house so early this morning? He only lives a few houses down from you; had he seen Steve and felt he had to protect you? Does he actually care about you, as much as he tries to put on a front that it's only been sexual between you two and nothing more? Is that why he's been so distant?

You suddenly realize that you've gone much further than the perimeter, continuing to walk ahead instead of turning back and circling the area. You freeze, eyes scanning around as you try to discern exactly how far you've gone.

"Fuck," you mutter, turning around and starting to walk directly back the way you came, hoping it'll lead you right back to where you're meant to be.

It doesn't.

You'd been so lost in thought that somehow you've managed to lose the original path, the tall grass hiding any sign of your own footsteps. This is only your second time out here so nothing looks familiar; it's all grass and mud and trees and rocks. How long have you even been walking? Joel had once admonished you for not having a watch, said one day it was gonna bite you in the ass; you hate that he was right.

"Steve?" you call out, unsure if he'll be able to hear you since you don't know how far you've trailed from the cabin, "You there?"

No reply. You stop again and do another quick glance around, looking for anything that seems familiar to you. But no, this isn't the ski lodge perimeter where you'd grown accustomed to each tree, each stump, each rock. Nothing here is even vaguely telling you exactly where to turn.

You feel the dull throb of panic beneath the surface of your emotions but you quickly shove it down; you're good in situations like this, you've certainly been through enough shit to not get frightened over being a little lost. You've been lost before, you'll figure it out.

All the same, you keep track of the sun's location in the sky as you continue your directionless trek, noting that it's directly above you; noon. You have plenty of time before dark to find your way back, no sweat.

It must be around three o'clock when you finally make it back. Relief floods your entire body as you walk into the clearing and see the small wooden cabin sitting there still and picturesque, exactly how you'd left it. You bend down, closing your eyes and pressing your hands to your knees to take a few deep breaths and ground yourself. The panic had started to really settle in about an hour ago, but luckily it hadn't gotten to a point where you'd been too afraid to keep going.

"Steve," you say loudly, still breathing deeply, "I'm back."

No reply. You open your eyes again, heart still thumping in your chest as you eye the cabin for any sign of him. You walk over hesitantly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach when you open the front door and are greeted to a dark and empty cabin.

"Steve?" you say again, voice shaky.

No reply.

Fuck. He must have gone looking for you when you didn't come back to switch. Either that or he went back to Jackson, but you can't see a guy like Steve doing that. The way he'd stood up to Joel this morning, as embarrassing as it was, it had been enough to show you exactly what kind of man Steve is. He'd definitely gone to look for you. It's only fair that you do the same for him.

You grab a roll of twine from the cabin and start your search, making sure to mark the trees every now and then so you can find your way back again. You'd been advised in your patrol orientation not to do this because of raiders, but you doubt Tommy or Maria will give you shit for making sure you and Steve actually make it back to Jackson alive.

The thought makes the panic start to rise again, but you keep going.

You keep hoping you'll find some sign of Steve, but it's been about two hours and nothing has caught your eye. The twine is starting to run out and you fear you'll have to go back to Jackson without him, which will undoubtedly start a panic and a huge search party, all because you got a little distracted. This shit with Joel doesn't even matter anymore - you can't believe you let it affect you how it did. And now Steve is paying the price.

Another hour passes and you're preparing to turn back when you see it out of the corner of your eye. You freeze, hair standing up at the back of your neck when you look down to see shiny droplets of blood painting the grass.

You lean down instinctively, eyes wide, reaching forward to touch one of the many large red drops. It shivers beneath your finger, not yet fully dry. It's fresh.

Without hesitation you stand back up and pull your pistol out of its holster, cocking it and holding it steadily in front of you as you start to walk again. You have absolutely no idea what you're expecting to pop out at you; raiders? Infected? Or maybe Steve just cut himself somehow and you've taken your gun out for nothing.

A loud scream suddenly pierces the silence of the forest.

"STEVE!" you scream back, face going pale as you begin to sprint through the woods, gun still in front of you, "STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING."

It's the last thing you say before you suddenly feel something tight grip your ankle and send you flying into the air, gun falling out of your hand. You find yourself completely upside down, entangled in a net.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You sway back and forth in the thick netting, trying to find your gun somewhere below you, but you quickly become much too dizzy to discern absolutely anything. You hear Steve's scream again, further away this time, and your blood runs cold. The panic takes over and you can't speak.

Please, you think to yourself, shutting your eyes tight and trying to keep the dizziness at bay, please don't let me die before I see him again.

It's not Steve you're thinking about.

It doesn't take long for the blood to rush to your head, for your body to go completely numb as you hang there upside down, completely alone. You pass out within minutes.

It's pitch black when you wake up.

You're no longer hanging from a tree in the forest, no longer tangled up in a net. Instead, you're lying on what feels like a concrete floor. Your head is pounding, lips dry and parched. Your whole body feels heavy and achy, so much so that you can barely move.

"She's awake," you hear a voice say somewhere close by; it's female and sounds familiar, but not enough for you to place it.

You hear the squeaky hinges of a door opening, then a few hushed whispers that you can't make out. The door shuts again and you swear you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked in place.

"Where am I?" you finally whisper, voice rough and broken, "Let me go."

"You're in Jackson," the female voice replies, kind and gentle, "You're safe now."

"Who are you?" you can't bring yourself to open your eyes, unsure if this person is really telling you the truth.

"It's Ellie," the voice replies, and recognition dawns on you immediately, "Remember me?"

You nod slowly, wincing at the pain as you continue to lie there on the floor, "Y-yes."

"When you didn't come back this morning they sent out a search party. Tommy found you hanging in a tree, brought you back right away."

This morning? So you must have been hanging there all night. Jesus, no wonder you feel the way you do.

You finally open your eyes then, and are beyond relieved when your vision isn't dizzy and blurry like it had been before you'd passed out. You spot Ellie a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, peering down at you with a soft expression.

"Steve?" you whisper.

Her brow furrows, "They found him too. I don't know the details but he was hurt pretty bad," she shakes her head, "They're gonna do everything they can."

You nod again, swallowing and wincing at the dryness of your throat, "C-can I have some water?"

"Oh, fuck, of course," she reaches behind her and grabs a bottle, then walks over to you. Her movements are slow, hesitant, and when she hands you the bottle her arm darts out and back extremely quickly.

You stare at her in confusion, slowly bringing yourself to sit up. She backs away from you again, presses herself against the wall and crosses her arms again. It's like she's feigning nonchalance.

Reality dawns on you.

"Am I bit?" you manage to whisper, clutching the water bottle tightly.

She swallows, looks directly in your eyes, "We're hoping you can answer that for us."

You slowly bring the water to your lips, mind racing. You try to remember anything beyond getting caught up in the net but there's absolutely nothing. If you'd been bit afterward, wouldn't it have woken you up? Wouldn't you feel the pain somewhere on you now?

You drink the entire bottle of water and place it next to you on the floor, then you begin to feel your body, placing your hands back and forth all over yourself and trying to find a particular spot that feels like it might have been bit. You come up blank; all that you feel is a steady ache from being numb for so long.

"I don't think so," you finally say, crossing your legs and bringing your hands to rest in front of you, "I feel okay."

"We only found you about two hours ago," she says softly, "So we weren't sure. This is where they keep people for observation, people who might be infected."

You assess your surroundings. You must be in some kind of shed; it's small and there's no furniture, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. If you'd woken up alone you probably would've thought you'd been kidnapped. Your brow furrows and you look over at Ellie in confusion.

"If I might be bit, why are they keeping you in here with me?" you ask, bewildered, "It's not safe for you."

Ellie kicks her heel and shrugs, "I don't know, they just thought you shouldn't be alone when you woke up."

She's lying and you don't know why, but you don't have the energy to press her further. What's important is that you're not alone, and you appreciate that. You watch as she inhales deeply, lost in thought, then brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. Just like Joel.

Joel.

"Does he know?" you suddenly whisper.

You didn't say his name but she clearly knows who you're talking about. She sets her lips in a firm line, "Yeah."

You place your head in your hands and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes tight. You suddenly feel like you want to cry, just at the thought of that big, broad, grumpy man being told that you didn't come back from patrol. Had he been upset? Annoyed? Angry? Scared?

"He's freaking out," Ellie answers for you, voice quiet, "He punched Tommy in the face."

"What?" you stare at her, eyes wide, "Why'd he do that?"

She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head, "Tommy wouldn't let him go with the search party."

Your face scrunches in confusion, "Why not?"

She looks away from you then, eyeing the closed door, "Because Tommy thought his feelings would get in the way," her voice is slightly shaky, like she might cry, "He thought if they found you dead, Joel might not come back, might try to find the motherfuckers who did it and make them pay."

You're already shaking your head, "That's dumb, he wouldn't do that."

Ellie laughs again, turning back to look at you, "You really don't know anything about Joel, do you?"

You stare, waiting for her to speak again. She adjusts her position, slowly sliding down the wall and sitting across from you with her knees pulled up against her chest.

"Joel's killed a lot of people," she says quietly, looking over at you with tired eyes, "I mean, a lot of us have, I'm sure you have too. We've all done shit we're not proud of," she thumbs a tear on her jeans, biting down on her lip, "But when it comes to the people he cares about... Joel doesn't do things halfway, never."

You swallow, "Ellie, I don't think Joel cares about me in the way you're thinking."

She smiles then, small and hesitant, but still a smile, "As I said, you don't really know much about him. Not like I do."

"But-"

She puts a hand up, "I know about the two of you. I overheard you and Tommy talking last week."

You remember that afternoon by the stream, the rustle of the bushes, when you'd pulled the branches back expecting to see someone but found nobody there.

"That was you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, "By the stream?"

She nods, "I showed up to play my guitar and you guys were already there talking. I wasn't gonna listen but then I heard Joel's name and..." she sighs, looking down at her knees, "I might not be talking to Joel right now but I like to know what he's up to."

You nod slowly, "So...you heard about..."

"The mountain, yeah," she makes a face, "Listen, I don't want the details, trust me, but I wasn't surprised when you said that, not the way Tommy was anyway," she giggles, "I love seeing him get all uncomfortable, it's so funny."

You snort, shaking your head, "Please, it was so awkward."

"He really had no idea, but I think I did, somehow," she smiles again, wistful, "As I said, I might not be talking to Joel but that doesn't mean I don't look out for him, watch him, make sure he's doing alright," she looks down again, "I'm not heartless, okay?"

"I know," you say earnestly, "I know you're not."

"I knew something was different with him. He's been so quiet and sad, doesn't talk to people very much anymore, but these past few weeks it was like he had a pep in his step, like the old Joel was coming back," she smiles at the thought, "And then I saw the way he'd look at you in the dining hall, all those little smiles. And at first I was like...gross. But then..." she sighs, shaking her head, "I don't know, I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him."

Her words elicit a warmth in your chest, soft and safe, like the feeling of being in Joel's presence. You wrap your arms around yourself, huddling forward and continuing to listen.

"We were eating breakfast when Tommy announced the search party this morning. As soon as he said what had happened I looked over at Joel. He looked like he'd just received the worst news of his life," her voice shakes again, like she's on the verge of tears, "He ran up to Tommy, started asking questions about the search, when they were starting, what way they were going, all that. Tommy told him that he couldn't come, they argued, Joel punched Tommy and then I had to practically pull them apart."

"You?" your mouth is agape, "You stopped the fight?"

She nods with another small smile, "As soon as Joel realized it was me pulling on him, he stopped. I told him I knew about what was going on, I said I'd stay with him until you came back safe and sound."

You feel tears prick in your eyes at the words, "That must have meant a lot to him."

"It meant the world to him, I know that," she says quietly, "I haven't talked to him for a long time, I'm sure you know that."

You nod, "I do."

She's silent then for a few moments, staring at the closed door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is shakier than ever, "I sat with him in his living room until they got back with you and Steve. He wanted to see you but they wouldn't let him, so I volunteered to stay with you. That's why I'm here."

She leans back against the wall with a sigh, biting down on her lip. You see tears beginning to brim in her eyes and you look away, knowing you wouldn't want someone staring at you if it was you getting emotional.

"He's lost a lot, you know," she says softly, sniffling a little bit, "He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about," she takes a breath, shaky and full of emotion, "He almost lost me, too. That's part of the reason we're not talking."

You stare at the concrete floor, letting her words sink in. A daughter? Joel had been a father? And Tess, who was she? A girlfriend? A wife? Clearly someone important, and he'd lost both of them.

You've been through your share of trauma, experienced your own losses, but never to that degree. You'd never gotten close enough to someone to really feel a loss like that, can't even imagine what it would feel like. Your heart aches for him; that stoic, quiet, and mysterious man who'd let you in but kept you at arm's length... for reasons you're beginning to understand.

You stand up slowly, wincing at the aches you feel, your skin feeling prickly and uncomfortable as your circulation continues to regulate. Ellie's words cycle through your mind as you stretch, ringing quiet and tender in your ears; I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him.

"When can I see him?" you ask softly, still avoiding looking at her as you pull at parts of your clothes, searching again for a bite you're pretty sure doesn't exist.

"I'll ask Maria," Ellie replies just as quiet, standing up as well and walking over to the door, "If you were bit you'd be showing signs by now, I think you're okay."

"Ask her about Steve too, please," you add, "I need to know if he's alive."

She nods and opens the door, then goes outside and shuts it behind her. You hear the deadbolt slide back into place.

You burst into tears.

Ellie returns with Maria about ten minutes later, both of them looking at you with kind and sympathetic expressions when they find you standing in the middle of the room sobbing your heart out. Without hesitation, Maria walks forward and wraps her arms around you tightly.

"It's okay, sweetie," she says softly in your ear, rubbing your back gently, "Steve's okay, he's gonna make it."

Ellie looks down when she says this, and part of you knows that she knows you're not crying about Steve.

They walk you home slowly, Maria on one side and Ellie on your other. You complain a bit, telling them you're okay to walk on your own, but neither pay your stubbornness any mind, just keep their arms linked through yours as they walk you to your house.

You're on your street when you see two figures up ahead, and your heart starts to pound harder and harder in your chest the closer you get. Because you know who it is.

Joel and Tommy are leaning against the banister of Joel's front patio, talking quietly to themselves. You grimace at the sight of Tommy's black eye but feel relief flood through you when you see that he's smiling at Joel, clearly no animosity present.

"Look who's up!" Ellie says loudly, and they both turn to look in your direction.

Joel freezes, staring at you for a few brief seconds of recognition before he's suddenly throwing himself from the patio and sprinting toward you. You feel both Ellie and Maria release you from their grips, right before you're suddenly enveloped in the warmest, sweetest, most sincere hug you've ever received in your life.

Throughout all these months of knowing Joel, he's never truly touched you. Sure, he's touched your hand, shook it during your official introduction, helped you stand up here and there. He's touched your face once, your lips twice. And he's touched you where you longed for him to, begged him to, but only for a moment, just one touch. Gentle, tender, but never long enough for you to really feel him the way you've wanted to.

Now he pulls you close without any hesitation, no rules, no consequences. He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers your name over and over until it sounds like a mantra, a prayer.

"Joel," you breathe, and you feel the tears start up again as you shut your eyes tight and just feel, listen to him say your name and hold you like you'll fall apart if he lets go.

"I thought I lost you," he says, voice rough and emotional, "Before I could even tell you how sorry I am."

"Shh," you squeeze him tighter, burying your face in his strong chest, "Don't worry about that, I'm here. I'm okay."

He holds you impossibly tighter and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sob rip through his teeth, tears dripping from his face into your hair. You pull back just enough to look up at him, see him peer down at you with an expression on his face that you've never seen before, impossibly soft and fond, eyes bright and yearning. Love.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, inhaling shakily, "For everything."

You shake your head furiously, "Joel, it's oka-"

"It's not okay," he interrupts, voice breaking again, "I'm so sorry. Not just for what I said yesterday, but for everything else. For pushing you away, making you feel like it was your fault, I'm so fucking sorry," he pulls you in again, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, "God, you have no idea how bad I've wanted to just hold you like this. I was such a fucking coward."

"You were afraid," you whisper, shaking your head, "I understand, Joel, I get it."

He lets out another sob, squeezes you tighter, "Don't let me go," he breathes, "Please don't let go."

For the entire hug you'd thought he was the one holding you, but you now realize that for him it's the other way around. You feel yourself start to cry harder as you pull him in tighter and just stand there, arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed against his chest as the beat of his heart thrums steadily in your ear. You both inhale and exhale deeply, moving as one being, one solid force. He kisses your head again and you melt further into his touch.

"I'm gonna head back to town," you hear Maria say softly nearby, probably to Tommy and Ellie, "Tommy, can you go check on Steve, make sure he's still doing okay?"

Joel stiffens at the name, suddenly pulling back from you to look over at Maria, "He alright?"

Maria nods, "Yeah," she turns to look at you then, expression serious, "He told us that when you didn't come back to switch patrols, he got worried, went out looking for you. Ended up running into a group of raiders, the same ones who set that trap you fell into. They stabbed him a couple times but nothing critical, he managed to get a few hits in himself before he got away, led them in the opposite direction."

"Jesus," you mutter, feeling guilt rush through you, "Are they still out there?"

"No," Tommy replies, shaking his head, "We took care of it. Steve knocked 'em around pretty good but we made sure none of 'em were breathin' by the time we left."

You nod slowly, still in Joel's embrace, "Tell him I'm sorry," you say quietly, "It's my fault."

"Shhh," Joel pulls you close again, rubbing your back gently, "Don't worry about that, let's get you inside."

"Make sure she has a bath," Maria says quickly, "Keep her warm, give her some food."

"I'm not a hamster," you groan, and you're surprised to hear Ellie laugh behind you. You'd forgotten she was there.

Joel suddenly pulls out of your embrace, still holding you with one arm while he reaches toward Ellie, "Come here," he says softly, "Please."

She shakes her head, taking a step back, "I'm going with Maria," she bites her lip, looks down and then looks back at Joel who's still staring longingly at her, "But I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, voice still shaky, "Promise?"

She nods, gives him a small smile, "Promise."

"Where do you wanna go?" Joel had asked you softly, "Mine or yours?"

"Yours," you'd whispered immediately, no hesitation, "Please."

You now find yourself in Joel Miller's house, somewhere you never really ever pictured yourself. It's pretty similar to yours but there are a few differences, namely the amount of books and art. You hadn't known that Ellie was an artist; there are drawings all over his house, some in frames, some just laid around, all signed by Ellie, all beautiful. There's a picture she drew of him that he has framed on his fireplace, and you find yourself picking it up with a smile.

"Bath's almost ready," Joel says quietly behind you, and you spin back around. He looks at the picture in your hand, smiling softly, "Ellie drew that."

"She's really talented," you reply with a smile, "Wonder where she gets all this artsy fartsy stuff from?"

He chuckles, still standing a few feet away from you, "It's a mystery."

You place the picture back down and turn to look at him, feeling a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you haven't felt around him in a long time, not since that first night together. Things are different now, it's palpable, and both of you are aware of it.

"Will you take a bath with me?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He nods slowly, eyes trained on your face, "Of course I will."

The bath is warm and welcoming. Joel had told you to strip down, get in, and that he'd be back momentarily with some food for you. You can't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't stuck around to watch you undress, but maybe it would've been inappropriate considering the circumstances.

You ease yourself under the water, a satisfied moan escaping your lips as the bath completely envelops you. He's put something in the water to make it smell good, lavender or vanilla. It instantly relaxes you, the heat of the water and the delicious smell making you feel completely at ease.

You lay there for a few minutes in silence, eyes closed, focusing on your breathing and bringing things back into perspective. You're okay, you're safe. Steve is okay, he's safe. You're both back in Jackson. You're with Joel, you're in his bath tub, he's downstairs making you lunch. Everything is okay.

Ellie's words filter through your brain again, distant but present; He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about.

A light knock on the bathroom door shakes you from your thoughts. You smile, "Come in."

Joel enters the bathroom, bowl of soup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He places them on the chair next to the tub, eyes avoiding you as he focuses on the task at hand. He kneels by the tub and spoons some of the soup carefully, then finally looks at your face as he brings the spoon to your mouth. You open, letting him feed you, letting him take care of you.

"Good?" he asks softly, gaze still on your face, ever the gentleman.

"Good," you say with a smile.

He feeds you a few more spoonfuls, smiling fondly at you as you eat. After a few moments of this you put your hand up, shaking your head, "That's enough for now, why don't you get in with me?"

His gaze finally falls then, looks at your body beneath the water, sees your nipples poking through the surface. He sighs, leans back a bit on his knees and shakes his head.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says quietly.

"Joel," you say quickly, voice steady, "Don't pull away from me. Not now. Not anymore."

He looks at your face again, expression sad and distant, "I'm afraid," he admits, "I'm afraid of being close to you."

"I know," you whisper, and you reach over to place your hand over his, stroking him gently with your thumb, "It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."

"I've lost a lot of people," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I thought...I thought if I let myself get close to you, if I gave you what you wanted...I'd get attached. I'd fall for you," he says it earnestly, voice breaking slightly on the last few words, "But here I am, fallin' for you anyway."

You smile at him, soft and loving. You squeeze his hand and slowly sit up in the bath, putting yourself on display for him. His eyes don't leave yours, but he swallows and tenses his jaw at your movement.

"Bad things have happened to the people I care about," he says quietly, barely a whisper, "And you're young, you're beautiful, you have this whole life ahead of you and I'm-" his voice breaks and he looks down again, tears cascading down his cheeks, "I'm scared you'll end up like those people, dead and gone because of me."

"Joel-"

"And I'm scared I don't deserve it," he interrupts, looking up at you again, mouth trembling, "I don't think I deserve love. I don't deserve someone like you 'cause of everything I've done."

"What about Ellie?" you ask softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "She's alive and she loves you."

He scoffs, shaking his head, "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," you mean it, leaning forward to cradle his hand in both of yours, "I talked to that girl for the first time today, really talked to her, and I can see it plain as day. She loves you more than you could ever know, Joel."

"She stayed with me today," he whispers shakily, nodding slowly, "She sat with me 'til we knew you were safe."

"And you think that's hate?" you ask softly, "Joel, that's love."

He looks at you again, expression pained. You bring his hand to your lips, press a gentle and tender kiss to every knuckle, showing him how much he's worth, how much he means to you.

"I'm afraid," he repeats through his tears, watching you kiss him, "I'm afraid to want you the way I do."

You release his hand and lean back slightly in the tub, extending your arm for him to take, gazing at him with all the love and care you can muster, "Get in with me," you whisper, the splash of water the only sound in the room save for your heartbeats, both of which you swear you can hear, "Don't be afraid."

His eyes cast downward to your lips and he swallows again, then looks back up into your eyes, "Okay."

You watch as he stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt. You can tell that he's extremely nervous, his fingers trembling as he fights to get each button open.

"I'm gonna close my eyes," you say tenderly, "And when you're ready, tap my shoulder and I'll let you in behind me, okay?"

He nods slowly, fingers frozen on the third button, "Okay," he repeats.

You close your eyes and lean back, listening to the rustle of clothes beside you as he undresses. You're not used to this Joel, the one who seems powerless and submissive. You're not usually the one giving him orders, it's always been the other way around. You know he's just nervous, afraid of being close to you like this, and all you want is for him to feel relaxed again in your presence, feel like himself.

After a moment he taps your shoulder; you lean forward in the bath and feel him ease in behind you, his legs entrapping yours along the edges of the tub. He seats himself down, places his hands around your middle and pulls you in close. You feel his groin press against your lower back; you've never felt his cock before, and somehow the casual intimacy of his softness pressed against you makes you smile.

"You can open your eyes," he whispers, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

You do as you're told, immediately seeing the way his legs are splayed out in front of you, long and strong beneath the water. You've never realized how small you are compared to him until this moment, completely enrobed in his body, heart thrumming against your back.

"This is heaven," you whisper, leaning back against him and closing your eyes again, "This is what I wanted, all along."

"I think you wanted a bit more than this," he replies with a chuckle, kissing your neck again, "And you'll get it, I promise. Let's just...let's just sit here for a little while first, alright?"

"As long as you need to," you murmur, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin.

You bathe together for a long time, just laying in each other's embrace and enjoying the company. Being this close to Joel truly is everything you could have ever hoped for, his strong arms wrapped around you as he noses your neck and breathes you in, holds you against his naked body like you're meant to fit there. He's so big and warm; you've never felt more safe.

At one point you scooch back a bit in this embrace, feel your ass unintentionally rub lightly against his cock beneath the water. Neither of you say anything, but you both slowly become aware of the way he hardens, begins to grow larger against you.

A few moments later the head of his cock is pulsing against your lower back. Your eyes are lidded, heavy, head bobbing backward to nestle at the base of his neck. His hands on your belly move upward to cup your breasts, holding you firmly and securely against him.

"Joel," you whisper, "Touch me."

The words bring both of you back to the ski lodge, the power he holds over you there, the way you're always at his mercy. You hope, despite the new situation, he'll be that person again for you. You crave it, need it.

"Not yet," he murmurs in your ear, "Be patient, pretty girl."

There he is.

You swallow, close your eyes and submit completely as he palms your breasts, tweaks your nipples between his fingers gently. You whimper pathetically, shuffle back against his cock again, feel the hard length of it along your back.

"You were a bad girl yesterday," he whispers in your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, making you shiver, "And today. Gettin' lost like that, makin' me worry..."

"M'sorry," you murmur, hands moving down to grip his thighs as he brings your earlobe into your mouth and sucks it, "Didn't m-mean to make you worry."

"I think," he whispers, breath hot against your skin, "I'm finally gonna have to punish you."

The words send tingles up and down your spine, eyes almost rolling back in your head when he sucks your earlobe again, eliciting sounds from you that only he knows how to generate. You squeeze his thighs tighter, feeling your pussy begin to pulse beneath the water.

"How?" you breathe, voice weak.

He releases your ear and noses your cheek, brings one of his hands from your breasts and rests a finger against your chin. He turns your face to the side, urging you to look at him. His eyes are dark, full of want and desire, and you know you're completely at his mercy.

"I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he whispers, "Gonna fill that pussy up with my cock."

The words send you into a tailspin, a guttural whine escaping your lips as your fingers press into his thighs, rubbing your own together to seek some purchase against your heat. He smiles, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, drops his hands and places them over yours, big and strong.

"I know that's what you want," he whispers, entangling his fingers with yours over his thighs, "But I'm gonna give it to you over and over again, gonna make you come as many times as I want, 'til you're begging me to stop, tellin' me it's too much, that you couldn't possibly come again," he squeezes your hands, licks a stripe up the side of your neck, "And then I'll give you another one."

"Please," you breathe, voice broken and full of desire, "Please, fuck me, Joel. I need it so bad."

"I know you do, baby," he whispers, "So be a good girl for me and do as I say, okay?"

"Okay," you whimper, leaning back in his embrace, feeling his cock prod your back.

"Say it."

"I'll be your good girl," you whine, trembling under his gaze, "I'm your good girl, Joel. Only yours."

He groans softly in your ear, "That's right, baby," he releases your hands from beneath his and cups your breasts again, squeezing gently, "Now, open yourself up for me."

With trembling fingers you reach beneath the water and pull your lips apart, using both hands to spread yourself for him. The water tickles you, makes you quiver in his grasp as you slowly push your middle finger inside.

"There you go," he whispers, "That feel good, pretty girl?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, throbbing around your finger.

"Add as many as you like," he tells you, "Need to be nice and open for my cock."

The very thought of finally having him inside you makes you whimper again as you add a second finger, feeling his familiar gaze on your cunt. It's so different this time, feeling how hard he is against you, being in his naked embrace while you obey his commands. This is nothing like being in his lap when he'd been fully clothed, holding you open for him. This is sex, pure sex that you know is going to last hours.

"Look at that," he murmurs when you've started to pump three fingers in and out of yourself at a steady pace, "So full for me, already ready to come, huh?"

You whimper, leaning back against his chest, feeling his wiry hair rub against your cheek. Without any hesitation he suddenly reaches down and presses his index finger to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Remember when I touched this clit for the first time?" he murmurs in your ear, circling it softly over and over, "Remember how you came just from a little touch? So sensitive, baby. Such a good girl."

His words send you over the edge, making you squirm and shake in his embrace as he gives you your first orgasm of the day, coaxes it out of you easily. You whimper when he touches your wrist, pulls your fingers out to replace them with his own.

"That's one," he whispers, sliding his index finger inside your heat, and you're not sure if he's talking about the orgasm or the digit. You're too blissed out to care, head bobbing against his neck again as he fingers you, adds a second and presses his lips to your ear, "Baby, she's so tight," he breathes, teasing a third at your entrance, "How's my cock gonna fit?"

"Mnnhnngg," you can't make words, looking down beneath the water at where he's fucking you relentlessly, fingers so big and thick compared to yours, his thumb toying with your clit.

"Can't even talk, huh?" he whispers, "Need to come again, I bet."

You don't think you'll be able to, not yet; you're so overstimulated but he just continues to fuck you with abandon, rubbing your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You arch back against him, his cock throbbing against your ass. Your fingers dig into his thighs again and he chuckles in your ear.

"Can't do that, baby," he whispers, "Play with your pretty little nipples for me, show me how hard they are."

You bring your trembling hands to your breasts, squeezing your tender nipples between your fingers and feeling another orgasm start building in your tummy. How? It's so soon since you had your last one, how the fuck can he give you another one so quickly?

He pumps his fingers steadily in and out of you, watching as you play with your nipples. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your left breast, inches away from where your fingers are pinching.

"Put it in my mouth, pretty girl," he murmurs against the skin, nosing the little bumps and dropping his jaw. You whimper at his words, squeezing your breast and dropping it downward so he can wrap his lips around the sensitive bud. You groan, feeling his tongue dart out and begin to lick tiny circles around it.

Seconds later, you're coming again. You shake and shiver and then go completely still in his arms, eyes rolling back as he continues to suckle at your nipple. He removes his fingers, thumbs your clit one more time, then releases your breast with a light pop.

"Two," he says quietly, smiling at you, "Good girl."

Somehow you make it to his bedroom. Exactly how, you're not sure. You're so wrecked from having two orgasms in ten minutes that you feel like jelly, but you're vaguely aware of him picking you up from the bath and carrying you to his room, putting you in his bed. You lay there like a starfish, arms up and legs wide as you breathe heavily, chest heaving.

"So sleepy," he says tenderly, stroking your cheek, "You ready for bed, baby? Wanna stop?"

Your eyes snap open and you shake your head frantically, only to see him standing there with a wide smile on his face.

"I'm kidding," he says with a laugh, "Don't worry."

You roll your eyes and look up at his ceiling, "Ass."

"There she is," he replies warmly, "Missed my feisty girl."

"She never left," you say with a wink, turning to look at him; he's shuffled closer to the bed, standing over you with his cock in his left hand, slowly stroking up and down. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes going straight for the plump and wet head.

"Yeah, you wanna suck it, huh?" he says quietly, thumbing exactly where you want to place your tongue, "Tasted my come twice but never had me in your mouth, how naughty."

You look up at him from under your lashes, smiling playfully, "I'm a good girl, promise."

He smirks, "Are you? Then show me how a good girl sucks cock."

You don't need him to ask you twice. You sit up on the bed and slide forward, watching as he releases his cock and lets it bounce upward toward his stomach, big and thick. You've never been so close to it, never seen it in broad daylight like this; he's huge, so wide and girthy with a big vein trailing along the underside all the way to the head, fat and leaking. With a shiver you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, trying not to smile when you hear him release a deep sigh.

"'Atta girl," he groans above you, his hand immediately coming up to cradle the back of your head, "That's my good girl."

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing down everything he's leaking and then starting to bob your head along the shaft, reaching up to grasp the base firmly in your hand. He tastes like the bath; lavender and vanilla, mixed with a salty and masculine flavor that makes your mouth water.

"Oh, baby," he murmurs, watching as you take his entire length in your mouth with barely any hesitation, the head hitting the back of your throat without even making you gag, "That's it, take the whole fucking thing, just like that."

You're aware of the fact that you don't have a gag reflex; you'd thought about telling him a while ago, thought maybe it'd convince him to let you blow him, but you'd never been brave enough to say anything. Now, you're glad you never did. Hearing his absolute wonder as you take his entire length is more than enough.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, watching as you pull back almost all the way and then push yourself forward again to fully envelop him, the tip repeatedly prodding the inside of your throat, "Jesus fucking Christ."

You swallow around him and look up from underneath your lashes, eyes wide and burning. He looks down at you and immediately slips his cock out of your mouth, taking a step back and putting his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he says quickly, hissing through his teeth, "I'm gonna come if you keep goin'. Fuck."

You look at him with faux-innocence, eyes wide, "Did I do something wrong?"

He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and taking another step backward, "You're gonna kill me, baby," he curls his hands into fists, and you swear his cock bobs again completely on its own, like he's about to come without even being touched. The thought makes you shiver, "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. You're gonna kill me."

You giggle, falling backwards on the bed again and stretching out your arms and legs, closing your eyes and listening as he does a quick pace around the room to distract himself from the orgasm his body is threatening to have. You just laugh and rotate your legs back and forth, feeling an immense amount of pride that you're not the only overly sensitive one in the room.

"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks you, and your eyes snap open to see him kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed.

"N-no," you say, but your smile betrays you. He looks at you darkly and suddenly grabs your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your thighs apart, "Oh," you whimper, looking down at yourself, seeing where he's looking, where you're wet and dripping all over the sheets.

"Messy," he whispers, "Such a messy little pussy."

"It's yours," you tell him, as if he doesn't already know, "It's your little pussy."

"I know, baby," he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I've wanted to taste her for so long."

You quiver at his words, brow furrowing as he presses another soft kiss to the opposite thigh. He licks a stripe along the inside, just outside your lips where you're puffy and swollen. He kisses your mound, drags his tongue down and down and down until it swipes lightly against your clit.

"Joel," you moan, throwing your head back and fisting the sheets. He pulls back and you look down again to see him smirking at you, eyes suddenly bright and playful again.

"Tastes like heaven, baby," he says softly, then ducks his head down and pushes his tongue inside you with no warning.

You let out the loudest moan of your life as he begins to eat you out, tongue alternating between twisting and licking your insides and then suckling on your clit like he'd done with your nipple, circling it inside his mouth relentlessly. You writhe beneath him, so much that he has to press his hands firmly against your belly to hold you down.

The noises you're making are practically inhuman, uttering almost a completely different language under your breath as he coaxes more ridiculous sounds out of you. You quickly realize that looking down at him is a mistake; the sight of his greying curls splayed across your pubic bone and the shape of his curved nose pressed into the hair on your mound, his eyes closed in pleasure as he sucks and licks and devours, just the image alone brings you close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you manage to squeak out, and he pushes his hands harder against your belly, the added pressure making you groan louder than ever.

He pulls his mouth away.

"No," you breathe, shaking your head wildly with wide eyes, "No, no, no, don't stop. Please don't stop!"

He smirks at you, removing his hands and leaning backward to release you completely from his grip. You stare at him, completely bewildered.

"Joel," you cry, real tears starting to form in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger - this time, you're just horny. "Joel, why?"

He still doesn't speak, just sits there and watches you groan in disbelief, your hands coming up to cover your face. You buck your hips into the air, seeking some kind of pressure, but nothing helps.

"Joel," you repeat, "This is mean."

"I told you I was gonna punish you, baby," he says it with faux-disappointment, like he's not the one who makes the rules, "I'm the one who decides when you come. And what I just did is exactly what you just did to me."

You pout, sitting up on your hands and giving him a dirty look, "That's not fair, you told me to stop, I would've kept going."

"But if you'd kept going, how would I have been able to do this?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing up and leaning over you on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he hovers above you.

"W-what?" you ask, but you know the answer as soon as you feel the wet head of his cock gently prod your entrance.

"This, baby," he murmurs, and pushes himself all the way inside.

You almost let out a scream, squeezing his sheets in your hands as his huge cock practically rearranges your guts, feeling him in your stomach as he reaches his hands up to entwine his fingers with yours, plying them away from the sheets.

"Oh, she wasn't ready, was she?" he asks quietly, nosing your neck and smiling at the incoherent noises coming from your throat, "Poor little pussy, never had something so big inside of her, huh?"

He stays still inside of you, letting you get used to his wide girth and thick length, so large within you that you feel like you're going to burst. You continue to make odd noises, twitching under his grasp, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you're coming. You're coming, just from having his cock fully sheathed inside of you.

"Three," he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, "That's three times now, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Your pussy pulses and throbs around him, aching and burning in the most perfect way. How does he know exactly what you need? How does he know exactly what'll get you there?

"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair gently as you convulse around him, "You're doing so well, takin' it all so good."

You've never felt so full in your life. You've only ever had sex a handful of times, only ever actually been with two other men. If you had to compare them to this, you'd laugh in their faces.

"Big," you finally find your words, barely a whisper, "So big."

"I know," Joel kisses your temple, pulls back to look down at you with a gentle smile, "I'll wait 'til you get used to it, don't worry."

It's only then, looking up into those big brown eyes, that you realize you still haven't kissed him. He's got his enormous cock inside of you, stretching every inch of you open, and you've never kissed him.

It's like he's suddenly thinking the exact same thing. You watch as his brow furrows, lips parting slightly as he leans down and presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes closing as you kiss him back with a hunger you've never known. You slip your tongue inside his mouth and he grants you entrance immediately, breathing deeply against your face as he sucks you in, lets you taste him. You can taste your own wetness on his tongue and it makes you moan against his lips.

"You're so fucking perfect," he breathes against your mouth, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against yours, "My perfect girl, always so good for me."

"I'm yours," you remind him, voice weak and shaky, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, Joel."

He inhales deeply, removing his hands from yours and trailing them down your body to hold you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso and trailing his fingers up and down your back.

"You can move now," you whisper, still pulsing around him, "I can take it."

"I know you can, baby," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."

It takes a few slow thrusts, your mouth still eliciting the most unhinged sounds as he fucks you at the slowest pace imaginable, but eventually you build up a rhythm. He's so big, it's hard to believe he's actually fitting inside of you. You'd only ever seen his cock from a distance, in darkness, never realized how fucking huge he was. You can't believe you'd even managed to fit all of him in your mouth.

"I'm close," you groan in his ear, your own hands coming up to grip his back tightly, loving the feeling of having him pressed so close to you as he fucks you, "Give me my fourth, Joel, fucking give it to me."

He laughs lightly in response, pulling back to look down at you, "Not much of a punishment anymore, is it?" he says with a smirk, shaking his head, "Now you're begging for it." He slows down his thrusts, eventually stilling inside of you and pulling almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock sit inside your pulsing hole.

"Look at that," he says softly and you sit up to follow his gaze, looking down at your already fucked-out hole, his cock only connected to it via the fat head that sits nestled at your entrance, "Look at all your come on my cock, pretty girl."

You notice the white and glistening spots along his cock, feeling your cheeks go red at the recognition that it's all from you. You bite your lip, chest heaving breathlessly as he carefully pulls the tip from your hole and places it against your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, watching as he gently rubs the head in circles on your clit, his tip continuing to leak and making you even more slippery than you already are.

"Here's number four for you, baby," he murmurs, and pulls back his cock to lightly slap the head against you, the pressure immediately making you moan. He slaps it again, a little harder, and you have to bite down on your lip again to stop the onslaught of little whines you're threatening to make.

"Come," he says firmly, deliberately an order, and slaps the head of his cock against your clit one last time, delivering the final push.

Your eyes roll back again and you fall back on the bed, body twitching as you come for the fourth time, feeling his eyes on your pussy as your hole pulses and throbs around nothing.

"Good girl," he whispers, and seconds later you feel his cock slide back inside of you, exactly where it belongs, "There you go."

You lay there completely limp for a few seconds, body only moving with the thrusts of Joel's steady pace. You finally open your eyes again, see him kneeling on the bed above you. He's holding your lower half upwards, hands digging into your hips and thumbs splayed across your tummy.

"Use me," you breathe, eyes closing again, "Just use me for a few minutes."

He groans, a guttural and fierce noise that rips through the silence of his bedroom. You relax completely, melting into the sheets and letting him take what he needs, take and take and take, using you like his personal fuck toy, something you'd only dreamed about and never thought would ever actually come to fruition. Your arms hang limp and loose off the edge of his bed as you inhale and exhale, trying to get your energy back as fast as possible so you can come again.

Because you know he's not gonna let you off at number four.

After a few more steady thrusts you slowly sit back up on your elbows, looking at him through hooded and tired eyes. He can see that you're close to being completely done, smiles gently at you and slows his rhythm.

"Welcome back," he says softly, leaning down to pull you up so you're level with him. He repositions the both of you so his legs are circling you, yours coming up to wrap around his lower back as you sit on his cock. He pulls you closer, cradling the back of your head and pressing kisses along the side of your face, "I know you're tired but I'm gonna give you one more, baby, just like I promised."

"I know," you whisper, voice shaky.

He holds you in his wide arms, completely envelops you as he fucks up into you steadily, nose and lips pressed against the side of your face as he brings himself closer and closer to release, continuously whispering a thread of dirty things to you, building you up.

"Such a tight fuckin' pussy, all for me," he murmurs, "So wet and pink and perfect, takin' me so good, so fuckin' full of cock."

"Joel," you whimper, leaning further against him and letting him fuck you mercilessly, letting him push you closer and closer to your fifth orgasm, "Keep talking."

"Okay, baby," he whispers, brow furrowed, "Okay, pretty girl. So fuckin' good to me, so fuckin' pure and perfect, lettin' me fill this little cunt, lettin' me fuck it so deep," you scratch at his arm, tension building in your belly, "Waited so long for me to give it to you, begged for it for months, and now you have it. It's all yours, baby. You get this cock whenever you want now, just say the word."

He reaches down and rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling you tense against him as your orgasm overtakes you. You shake in his embrace, moaning out his name one final time before you start to come, heart pounding and chest heaving as he releases your clit and hugs you close to him. You tremble beneath him, feeling completely spent, almost boneless in his lap as he keeps fucking you.

"Where do you want my come, pretty girl?" he asks you through clenched teeth, "You still want it in your mouth?"

"Yes," you say immediately, eyes widening, "In my mouth, please."

Without another word he pulls you from his lap, watching as you fall backwards on the bed weightlessly.

"Christ, I fucked the shit outta you, baby," he says, genuinely shocked at how blissed out you are.

"You did," you reply softly, feeling a smile cross your face, "Can't move anymore."

He gives you a gentle smile, walks around the bed and aims his cock toward your face, "Here's your reward, baby, open up, nice and wide."

You do as you're told, feeling an immense amount of pride and satisfaction as you finally get what you've been craving for months. He strokes his cock once, only once, and suddenly ropes of thick white come are painting your tongue and lips, your cheeks, your chin. He groans, long and low, watching as you close your eyes and take every drop he gives you, watching it all pool on your tongue, dribble down your chin.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you open your eyes again to see him staring at you, eyes still dark and pupils blown wide, "Swallow it, pretty girl."

You close your mouth and swallow all of it, reveling in the salty taste on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, push the leftovers from your cheeks and chin past your lips, swallowing a second time.

"Good girl," he whispers, leaning down to push your hair out of your eyes, "That's my good girl, did so fucking well for me. Did everything I said."

"I'm yours, Joel," you whisper, voice completely wrecked, "I'm your good girl."

He cleans you up tenderly, pressing kisses to your skin every now and then as he takes a warm washcloth and wipes you down, pays extra attention to your sensitive spots and lets you lay there in peace. He's so sweet, so gentle, you'd hardly know it was the same Joel who walked out on you back at the ski lodge.

But it is the same Joel. He's just finally let himself have what he wants, finally let himself give you what you want. When he climbs in bed beside you and wraps his arms tightly around you, you've never felt so desired in your entire life. He kisses your face all over, whispers praises, tells you how beautiful you are, makes you feel wanted.

"You asleep?" he asks you softly, hands running up and down your arms soothingly.

"In and out," you murmur back, "You really did a number on me."

He chuckles quietly, kisses your cheek and holds you tighter, "I know. It was okay, right? I didn't go too far?"

"It was perfect," you reply sincerely, leaning back into his touch, "It was everything I ever wanted, better than anything I imagined."

He smiles against your skin, "Good, I'm glad."

You both lay there in the silence of his bedroom for a few more moments, listening to each other's breathing. He kisses the back of your neck, noses your skin and inhales your scent.

"Are you still afraid?" you ask quietly, "You can tell me, I want you to be honest."

He takes a few moments to reply, sighing deeply and bringing one of his hands down to hold tightly to yours. You squeeze his back, quietly reminding him that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.

"I am," he says softly, voice barely a whisper, "But not so much anymore. I think it'll be easier now."

"It will be," you reassure him quietly, tightening your grip on his hand, "I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way."

He nuzzles into your hair, presses himself against you and sighs contentedly, "Okay."

You close your eyes, focusing on the perfection of this moment, the feeling of his body so close to yours, warming you up and keeping you safe. You can't help but notice how perfectly your bodies fit together, how right it feels to be lying together like this.

"By the way," he whispers suddenly, "You'll be my patrol partner again, right?"

You grin, tilting your head back slightly so his cheek brushes against your temple, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against your skin, so natural, so easy.

"I thought you'd never ask."

i can't believe how long this took me to write but i'm so glad i finally finished it. this isn't the end of soft!dom joel, but i would consider it the end of their story, most likely. i'll probably write some more smutty one-shots for them, but i doubt i'll write anything for them again with this much detail. i feel pretty satisfied with this.

let me know what you think!!! i love hearing yalls feedback, it makes me so happy. i also have a kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip. thank you so much for reading 💖

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #*#fic: soft!dom joel

3K notes · View notes

sanjisboyfie · 1 year ago

Text

one piece smau: dating sanji edition

— modern! au , so fun , slight nsfw bc sanji is funny like that ig LMFAO

— SANJI X MALE READER one of my favorite pairings to ever cross the universe

liked by [name]s.chef, uso_pp, 9k others

lvrboy[name]: oh my god hes so fine someone give me this guys' number

[name]s.chef: BEAUTIFUL BOY MY NUMBER IS XXX-XXX-XXXX PLEASE SAVE MY CONTACT AS PRINCE SANJI I WILL ALWAYS BE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL

-> dni_nami: no fucking way, why did this guy just leak his number TO HIS OWN BOYFRIEND

uso_pp: the day sanji doesn't comment in all caps to his boyfriends posts is the day the apocolypse comes

-> roro.zoro: fr why he always yelling at him....

-> freeluffy: sanji is so aggressive to his own boyfriend, should we help [name]? -> [name]s.chef: YOU MORONS HAVE NEVER BEEN IN LOVE AND IT SHOWS

-> uso_pp: ruhroh he angry

love.pudding: is he single?

-> [name]s.chef: I AM A GAY MAN AND IN LOVE WITH MY FUTURE HUSBAND - I AM NOT INTERESTED IN ANYONE ELSE BUT MY LOVER, I AM A LOYAL MAN TO MY BOYFRIEND. DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME OR HIM IF YOU WISH TO DATE EITHER OF US. WE ARE DEEPLY IN LOVE AND ALWYS WILL BE.

[liked by lvrboy[name]]

liked by freeluffy, dni_nami, boahancock, and 10k others

[name]s.chef: I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND HE MAKES ME SO HAPPY HES THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE HIM

tagged: lvrboy[name]

dni_nami: never seen you smile that wide before

-> roro.zoro: i wish i never saw it, it's terrifying

-> [name]s.chef: i fucking hate you, dont interact with any of my posts you idiot

-> [lvrboyname]: holy shit whenever you guys breathe do you have to insult each other

-> [name]s.chef: I WON'T ANYMORE MY BABY

SUPERCOLA: do you guys remember when sanji said he hated [name] and rejected the idea of being in love with him.

-> lvrboy[name]: LMFAOAOOA

-> {name]s.chef: that wasnt me, that was my evil twin that was plotting on my downfall.

liked by [name]s.chef, roro.zoro, and 10k others

lvrboy[name]: personal bottle boy <3

tagged: [name]s.chef

[name]s.chef: until the bed breaks. as many rounds as you want, any position you want, anything.

-> dni_nami: sanji please be fucking normal challenge

[liked by roro.zoro and 100 others]

dr.law: is this sanitary???

-> lvrboy[name]: deez nuts in your mouth are about to be sanitary

-> [name]s.chef: TELL HIM BABY TELL HIM !!!

-> dr.law: this shit doesnt even make sense ???

liked by [name]s.chef, lvrboy[name], and 15k others

freeluffy: i can't eat when sanji is making out with [name] across from me. i'm never going out with these two again.

tagged: [name]s.chef and lvrboy[name]

uso_pp: LMFAO i thought it was known to never go out with sanji and [name]? sanji just ends up ignoring you and only paying attention to [name]

-> [name]s.chef: and that's the way it should be. who else should i pay attention to when my beautiful, handsome, erethral boyfriend is right in front of me?

robinkills: i have never heard luffy sound so serious before, what did you two do to him?

-> roro.zoro: probably traumatize him

lvrboy[name]: i'm sorry lu, i'll make it up to you sometime

-> freeluffy: pay for my meals on campus for a week straight :D

-> lvrboy[name]: i'll pay for it for two weeks, i'm really sorry luffy </3

-> [name]s.chef: DONT STEAL MY BOYFRIEND FROM ME YOU FUCKING IDIOT I'LL SKEWER YOU ALIVE

roro.zoro: i think i vomitted in my mouth a little bit, happy for you guys ig.

-> lvrboy[name]: thank you...?

liked by [name]s.chef, dr.law, and 10k others

lvrboy[name]: my bby in crop tops >>>

tagged: [name]s.chef

[name]s.chef: I WILL WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE WHATEVER MAKES YOU HAPPY, I'LL WEAR. I HAVE EYES FOR NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU!! I LOVE YOU!!!

-> lvrboy[name]: i love you so much muah

SUPERCOLA: sanji and [name] stop making out challenge literally fucking impossible.

[liked by dni_nami, uso_pp, and 90 others]

-> skullnsoul: they're so funny

liked by lvrboy[name], roro.zoro, and 14k others

[name]s.chef: my beautiful boy suprised me by preparing me food with his own recipe today, i think i could cry genuine tears. you guys don't understand how happy i am that i found him and am now able to call him mine. i will love [name] until my last breath. i am so, so lucky.

tagged: lvrboy[name]

uso_pp: okay i guess this was a cute post or whatever.

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 100 others]

lvrboy[name]: sanji i'm gonna cry :< i love u sm too

-> [name]s.chef: pls dont cry my love

ttchopper: my favorite couple, you two are so sweet!

roro.zoro: cant even say anything mean, this is very heartwarming

-> lvrboy[name]: sanji won't tell you this but he giggled and kicked his feet when he read this.

lvrboy[name]'s story

my boyfriend's so fucking sexy-

[name]s.chef replied to your story: CAN I KISS YOU PLEASE COME BACK TO BED SO I CAN KISS YOU PLEASE CAN I KISS YOU CAN I PLEASEEE-

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱#one piece #one piece smau #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #one piece modern au #x male reader #male reader #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #sanji male reader #sanji imagines #male reader smau #smau #whoever sent me that anon ask is seething rn fs

979 notes · View notes

astralaffairs · 4 years ago

Text

freedom of the press 06 | t. jefferson

title: freedom of the press 06

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: 15k

warnings: implied sex, suggestive jokes & teasing, thomas has astoundingly shitty timing, lafayette is a huge fucking cockblock, hella fanservice, v v v tender quality time, and then some more implied sex

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

By the time Y/N woke up, the sun was hardly up, the streets were plowed, and the bed was warm. She didn't try to leave it, instead curling further into Thomas's warm embrace when he pulled her close. Huddled alongside him, his skin against hers, she didn't bother to fight the fatigue that still ebbed at her mind, instead letting herself drift peacefully in and out of consciousness. She could feel Thomas's quiet laugh rumble in his chest when she made no move to get up. She didn't process it enough to react when his lips brushed against the crown of her head.

By the next time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky over Washington D.C., the streets were still plowed, but the bed was cold.

She frowned as she pushed herself to sit up, leaning back on a hand as she rubbed her bleary eyes. He'd left without saying a word.

She knew as she peeled the covers off herself, still damp in places with sweat from the previous night, that she shouldn't have expected him to stay.

Why would he have? He was a busy person; it was already... Shit, how had it already reached 2 PM?

She slouched into the bathroom, feeling like a wreck as she wiped the smeared mascara from her face, tied up her wreckage of sleep hair. She couldn't bring herself to take off his undershirt she'd donned the previous night, too cold to sleep in nothing but too exhausted to find some real clothing. (He'd laughed at her for it, but all the same, he didn't give much resistance before offering up his shirt.)

Regardless, they'd done nothing more than sleep together. He had no commitment to hang around any longer. If she were him, she probably wouldn't have stayed either. Still, it would've been nice for him to have said goodbye.

She tried to blink the sleep from her vision as she padded to her kitchen on bare feet; she would force herself to eat something before getting dressed and having to go down to another shift at the diner that evening.

Dry cereal might not have been the pinnacle of health for her just then, but it was easy, and she was in no mood to fight her cravings. When she pulled down a bowl, though, a flash of purple in the corner of her vision gave her pause.

She closed the cabinet absentmindedly as she turned, eyeing the post-it note dubiously from a distance, glancing around her apartment to confirm she was alone. (There hadn't been much question about the matter, but she couldn't be too careful.)

It was a moment later still when she approached it, stifling a yawn, and plucked it from where it'd been stuck onto the countertop.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Y/N raised an exasperated eyebrow at the scrawled note despite the smile she fought back. The handwriting wasn't hard to recognize; not after she'd run her fingers over matching pen marks through a few hundred pages of Byron poetry -- not to mention the fact that there had only been two people in her apartment all night, and she certainly didn't remember writing that.

She shook her head lightly as she went to recycle it, but that time, it was the writing on the back of the paper that made her freeze.

For the next time you need some ancient literature, or for the next time you lock me out in the cold.

(202) 863-4828

Perhaps it wasn't such a gloomy afternoon after all.

------

Unknown Number: [Attachment: 1 image]

Unknown Number: nerd

Thomas grinned down at his phone where it was tucked halfway into his pocket. He'd been in meetings since noon, but after the night he'd had, he was struggling to focus on fundraising numbers and campaign strategy, most of it going in one ear and out the other as he waited restlessly for his phone to buzz. He'd begun to think by then that she wasn't going to reach out.

thomas 🙄: kinda harsh to say that abt someone who's been dead for 200 years

Y/N 🍑👀: ah yes because i was definitely referring to byron

Y/N 🍑👀: not the person who carries around purple sticky notes just to paste byron quotes in people's kitchens

thomas 🙄: you insulting my stationery?

Y/N 🍑👀: just your taste in literary quotes

thomas 🙄: don't be mad just cause i'm right

thomas 🙄: it didn't even wake you up when i left in the morning

thomas 🙄: at that rate you were gonna spend a lot more than a third of your life asleep

Y/N 🍑👀: wouldn't have still been asleep if you hadn't had me up past 4 am

thomas 🙄: is that really a complaint, now?

Y/N 🍑👀: uh??? yes, it is????? i have to deep clean my sheets and my mattress now smh

thomas 🙄: as though it wasn't worth it ;)

Y/N 🍑👀: wasn't worth the cost of the five gallons of bleach i'm gonna need to get the smell out

thomas 🙄: don't even pretend

thomas 🙄: you didn't seem to have any problem last night when i started ruining your sheets

thomas 🙄: you really gonna act like you don't want me to ruin them again?

Y/N could almost hear his voice in the messages, could picture his self-satisfied smile, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she read and re-read the text.

Y/N 🍑👀: you're paying my laundry bill

thomas 🙄: worth it to me

Y/N 🍑👀: or maybe we'll just have to ruin your sheets next time

Thomas inhaled sharply; his eyebrows shot up. Next time. He wouldn't have thought that just two words could turn him on quite that much.

"Thomas?" His head snapped up, his eyes wide; he'd somehow managed to forget entirely where he was in the few minutes since Y/N had texted him. Thankfully, it was only James who seemed to have noticed.

"Hmm?" He blinked, staring up at James's expectant stare. His gaze flickered across the conference room, and while James was clearly on the border of annoyance, everyone else looked to him curiously. "'M sorry, James, I spaced out for a second thinking about... your proposal for the fundraiser?"

That was the last thing he remembered hearing, and James didn't look impressed. "Right," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was asking how you felt about doing another town hall in D.C."

"Yeah, alright." He nodded, hardly processing the words, and James cocked a brow.

"Really?" He folded his arms. "I'm surprised you're giving in that easily. Last I remembered, you wanted to move your next few town halls up further north."

Thomas shrugged. His palms were sweating as all eyes turned to him for an answer after he'd spent the past ten minutes thinking about something very different from his supporters. "You make a good case for it."

(The fact that he hadn't caught a minute of the advocacy was irrelevant.)

James hadn't bought a word of it, and Thomas could tell from a single glance at him. He made a mental note not to pick someone who could see right through him as a running mate next time.

However, he fabricated a smile, much to Thomas's relief, having no desire to confront him right there or then. "I'm glad. I had a couple venues scouted out, but I'm open to any more suggestions."

"I think we need a new type of place. The same locations again and again get monotonous." Thomas struggled to resist rolling his eyes; he had to remind himself he'd only hired Charles Lee because he was donating more than twice his salary to the campaign.

"So what do you suggest?" He met his eyes skeptically from the other end of the table.

"What about a café?"

"A café?" Another of his campaign staffers who he couldn't identify by name spoke up -- Noah? Nate? Nathaniel? Thomas couldn't help but agree with his incredulity.

"It would be good for you to actually get to know your voters instead of... preaching to them from on high." As Lee continued, his voice close to a sneer, Thomas had to force himself to control his expression. "It would be much more personal for you to finally sit down and meet them."

"I'm runnin' a campaign, not speed-datin' the voters." Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw James purse his lips to repress a laugh.

"It's actually an excellent idea." Really, now? He glanced disbelievingly at the woman to his left. "The most common criticism you receive is about thinking yourself above your voting base. It'd be a good chance to lose some of your aristocratic reputation."

Hurtful, but not inaccurate. Thomas nodded, though he knew the skepticism was still clear in his gaze.

"If we do go through with this, where in the city do you propose we hold it?" James didn't seem to appreciate his fundraising proposal being derailed into a meet-and-greet, and by Charles Lee of all people. Thomas was right there with him, his annoyance only compounding when Lee shrugged unhelpfully.

"It's the Jefferson campaign, not the Lee campaign." Charles did make a good point with that. Thomas only wished he'd have thought of it before he decided to wedge his opinion into James's plan like a Republican jigsaw puzzle.

The question gave him pause, however. Were he to be perfectly honest, he didn't know more than five restaurants in the city by name, four of which wouldn't exactly earn him any points as a 'man of the people.' The last, however...

It was probably a poor idea; he'd known that even before he considered it. But it did seem to fit what they were looking for. It was in a low-income neighborhood, run by a family of immigrants. It had a bright atmosphere and an abundance of seating. However, the most tempting part to him wasn't how it'd look to the voters, but being able to see one person's expression when she learned he'd rented the place out for an entire evening.

It might've been a poor idea, but he had to put his campaign first, and the benefits were more than defensible.

He grinned. "Think I got a place in mind."

------

Y/N spent the next few days overthinking the fact that Thomas had left her last text on read. God, why'd she have to go and put the idea of a 'next time' out there? She was sure he didn't want commitment any more than she did, so she must have scared him off.

She hated how tumultuous the past Friday night had left her emotions.

Thankfully, when she arrived at work the following Monday, it didn't take too long for the distractions to come pouring in.

"Y/N!" Her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide as she saw Ashley marching into her office. She wore a smile, but her eyes were narrowed, and Y/N couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach.

"Ashley." Her response was wary.

"So your article got a decent bit of attention last Thursday." The words were nice enough, but they were altogether devoid of energy.

"... Thanks?"

"No, that's definitely a good thing; take the compliment." As Ashley circled around to take a seat on the edge of Y/N's desk, however, she tensed in her office chair, trying not to noticeably grip the armrests. "But a lot of it was controversial attention."

"How?" she asked, taken aback. Her brow was furrowed; it was likely the most unbiased article she'd written about the election.

"A lot of our readers seem to think you're siding with the Jefferson campaign toward the end of it." So this was why Ashley had entered looking so skeptical, and Y/N was sure her disbelief was written plainly across her face.

"Seriously? Because I mentioned that they're turning away funding from super PACs, you mean?" Ashley nodded, and Y/N let out a huff of incredulous laughter.

"You don't need to hold back on your critiques, alright? You can go after whatever information you uncover." She either didn't notice the annoyance growing in Y/N's eyes, or she didn't seem to care. "Don't be afraid to use what you uncover."

"And if what I uncover is entirely unrelated to the election?"

"Nothing is unrelated to the election, Y/N. That's exactly what you don't get." Something akin to excitement flashed in Ashley's gaze as she leaned forward toward Y/N, but the hint of vindictiveness gave her pause. "For you, the people are readers, not voters. You're not the one in an election."

Though she shifted further away in her rolling chair, Y/N said, "I'll keep it in mind, but for the time being, it's all been pretty mundane. Haven't found any skeletons in his closet."

"Then make some."

A beat passed; Y/N could only stare up at her boss in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes when Y/N didn't seem to be on the same page, which only elicited more worry. "You, as a writer, have grown to national visibility. You have the power to sensationalize things if you want to keep people hanging onto your every word."

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Ashley narrowed her eyes further at the bite behind Y/N's words.

"I'm serious. If you want to go further as a reporter, you can't just state facts. You need a narrative. There's a reason no one watches C-SPAN."

"Pretty sure I can spin a narrative on the election without stooping to the level of a gossip column." With Y/N's hard stare, Ashley seemed to realize she wasn't getting any further with the conversation, and after eyeing Y/N for another moment, she sighed heavily.

"You'd better show me a good narrative." Y/N had begun to tune her out as she pushed herself off of her desk, instead turning back to the article she'd been drafting. "I trust your judgment as a writer, so I'll let you take this however you want it. But people want to know who they're reading about."

"I have a feeling everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is by now," Y/N responded dryly.

"I mean know him, know him." That elicited a raised eyebrow. "He's a person, not just a candidate. That's what America wants to see."

Y/N couldn't help the strange sense of pride that curled in her chest, tried instead to suppress it alongside the inexplicably conceited mantra Ashley's words elicited: she knew Thomas Jefferson in a way America never would.

When Ashley raised her eyebrows, Y/N realized she'd let the silence stretch on a moment too long. She swallowed her thoughts. "So you want me to air his dirty laundry?"

Y/N's eyes widened at the grin that broke through Ashley's unimpressed demeanor.

"Finally, she gets it." With that, Ashley turned to go, ignoring how dumbfounded she'd left Y/N. She glanced back with a well-pleased smile.

"If you need dirt, never be afraid to dig up whatever it is he's left buried."

-----

Unfortunately for Y/N, the distraction that was her boss's scarily cutthroat mentality only weaved itself into her racing thoughts about her most recent encounter with everyone's favorite Republican frontrunner. The next few evenings at the diner were slow, which she couldn't necessarily complain about -- being rushed and nagged by half of downtown D.C. over the course of a week wasn't quite her paradise. However, it only gave her time to spiral under the weight of everything she'd learned.

To her conflicted relief, coming in earlier in the afternoon on Wednesday provided a welcome diversion. It would've been her afternoon to herself after leaving her office at the Post, but when one of their baristas called in sick, the money for an extra two hours was too tempting for Y/N to turn down.

Despite her early shift, it wasn't until around 7:30 that her evening hit a bump in the road.

"Prosciutto roll for Belle?" she called out as she reached the end of the counter, putting the tray with the finished order and the receipt on the end of the counter. She pulled a paper cup out of the stack by the divider for the drink that was ordered. She was about to dash back to the kitchen after checking over the food, when--

"Excuse me."

She was sick of overly-familiar voices interrupting her workday. She froze on the balls of her feet where she'd begun to retreat, before turning with forced positivity permeating her demeanor. Couldn't her two jobs stay separate, at least most of the time?

"James! Hey. Congrats on the Super Tuesday win." His surprised smile put her at ease as she reached where he stood.

"Oh... Y/N. Thank you," he said, tone hesitant, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I didn't know you worked here." She only shrugged.

"I just started two weeks ago. Not surprised you haven't noticed me around."

"No, I don't mean..." She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, before he chucked to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my first time coming here. You being an employee just... explains a few things, is all."

"Glad to provide some clarity... ?" With any context, his insinuation would've been painfully obvious; however, completely ignorant of the previous Saturday's meeting, Y/N was absolutely oblivious. She pursed her lips.

"You have my gratitude for it." James's knowing smile explained nothing for her, however.

"Right." She glanced at the growing line over at the cash register, anxious to keep the flow of customers going smoothly as the place filled up. "Anyway, what can I do for you? If you're here for dinner, line starts that way."

She nodded to the other end of the counter, but he shook his head.

"I'm not looking for food, actually."

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm starting to think you're in the wrong place."

"No, no..." He plucked a takeout menu from the stand toward the end of the counter and nodded, eyeing the diner's logo. "I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"You're sure?" Her skepticism was still blatant.

"I'm sure." He glanced up from the menu with a smile. "May I speak to your manager, just briefly?"

That was when she paled. Eyeing his nonchalant expression, she prayed none of her assumptions about his motives could possibly be true, especially as they grew stranger and stranger. Her new spiraling was beginning to tie back to her previous spiraling -- could James have found out about the past Friday? Would Thomas have possibly told him? Why would that mean he showed up at her family's diner to talk to her manager about it? Could he have been trying to--

"Why do you look so nervous?" Her alarm only seemed to amuse James, and she huffed, leaning against the counter.

"James. You're a politician who showed up at my place of work, rejected food, and requested to speak to my manager." She looked up at him with a flat gaze, and he only chuckled, shrugging in acquiescence. "There isn't some new health code no one told us about, is there?"

"Not this time. Check back in a week, though." She rolled her eyes. "In all seriousness, may I speak to whoever's in charge? I assure you I'm not here to shut down your café."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "How generous of you. Give me a second."

He nodded as she turned away, laughing when she took only three steps before aggressively yelling "Orlando!" in the direction of the kitchen.

The man in question emerged with his brow furrowed, wiping his hands on a dishtowel with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mija?"

"Nothing yet." She glanced between him and James, her stare inquisitive. "Someone wants to speak to you about the diner real quick."

"You get us into trouble again?" Orlando raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N couldn't help her wry smile as she rolled her eyes, batting at his arm.

"No, Orlando," she huffed.

Her contrived annoyance hardly buried her amusement before James decided to pipe up. "'Again'?"

She turned to James with a playful glare, and he grinned. "You stay outta this." She pointed a reprimanding finger at him, but he didn't appear at all fazed. "Gonna get me fired before you have a chance to shut us down, at this rate."

"You got us shut down?" Orlando gasped, but when Y/N saw the mirth behind his playful shock, she groaned.

"No, Orlando." James's and Orlando's grins mirrored one another as she looked between them, exhaustion settling into her tone. "I need you two to take each other off my hands, now. I have drinks to make."

"Of course, Y/N." James wasn't too hurt by the final glare she sent him before turning away.

As she fell back into her rhythm fulfilling orders, Y/N couldn't help but keep an eye on the two men, especially not when Orlando emerged from behind the counter to talk to James, trying to stay out of her way but also moving just out of her earshot. She knew the glances she kept sneaking toward them weren't as subtle as they should've been; she knew Orlando could see her watching them. As James continued on, Orlando's entire demeanor went from skeptical to welcoming, his body language opening up in turn. (Y/N tried briefly to read their lips, but something gave her the feeling that 'sent out the minors' wasn't quite true to their conversation.)

She had to force herself to turn her focus back to the customers as the unfinished drink orders began to pile up, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the mounting line of cups to her right with names and orders, but with a distinct lack of coffee. A few more minutes passed as she struggled to keep up, finally holding pace with the ever-growing demand when Orlando shook James's hand, passed off a business card before the two parted ways.

At the risk of making just a few customers lose their heads, Y/N followed Orlando into the kitchen, her curiosity overriding her work ethic.

"Hey, what was that about?" She caught him just as he was tying his apron back on. How pleased he looked had her skeptical.

"Oh, nothing very big. Don't worry." He withdrew his plastic gloves from the front pocket, pulling them on with a shrug. "He asked me about renting out the diner for a night for an event with Thomas Jefferson's campaign."

That stopped Y/N cold. "He did?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and he didn't seem to notice how stunned Y/N had suddenly begun to look. "I told him yes. I didn't think Mira would be thrilled if I turned it down. He offered us a lot of money for it."

"Oh, did he now?" She let out a shaky exhale, glancing back at the front of the diner to see James just exiting through the glass doors. "And did he say why he wanted to do it here, of all places?"

Orlando shrugged. "I didn't ask."

Why wouldn't that be your first question? Despite her moderate angst, Y/N tried not to let her frustration show. "Is Mira around? I need to talk to her."

"Aren't you in the middle of a shift?" He gave her a pointed look, and it elicited a dramatic, drawn-out groan from Y/N.

"Orlando," she whined, folding her arms. He gave her a mocking pout.

"Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "You're losing us valuable customers and valuable time as the line gets longer. Go back to making drinks."

Despite her scowl, she nodded. "After I close tonight, you're gonna get a piece of my mind."

------

As it turned out, it wasn't Orlando who was given a piece of her mind that evening.

2 New Messages, 10:38 PM

Thomas raised an eyebrow as his phone vibrated. He sat at his own dining room table, the sound coming from just inches to the left of where he was working on his laptop. Who would be contacting him that late?

Y/N 🍑👀: tell me it wasn't you who came up with the idea of renting out mira and orlando's diner on the only night when i work all evening

Y/N 🍑👀: please for your sake blame james

He grinned. The draft reports of the campaign's funding allocation he'd been typing up could wait just a few minutes.

thomas 🙄: i feel like you're just tryna get me to lie so you can slander me in the papers for it

Y/N 🍑👀: thomas i stg

Y/N 🍑👀: are you just planning your campaign around what's gonna annoy me most????

thomas 🙄: that's a heavy accusation, i would never

thomas 🙄: just wanna make sure you don't get too lonely without me

Y/N's scowl held no real anger as she read the texts.

Y/N 🍑👀: oh of course

Y/N 🍑👀: if this is your way of trying to get laid again, it's a flawed strategy

thomas 🙄: what happened to ruining my sheets "next time"? :)

Y/N 🍑👀: you still owe me for all the bleach i had to buy

thomas 🙄: don't avoid the question

Y/N 🍑👀: don't avoid the cleaning bill

thomas 🙄: if you're still tryna ruin MY sheets next time, it won't be your problem

Y/N 🍑👀 is typing...

Thomas rolled his eyes when the typing bubble disappeared and he didn't receive another text. Y/N, on the other hand, was biting her lip, her fingers hesitant on her keyboard as she read his text to herself. Her heart rate was picking up as flashes of the past Friday played in her mind.

thomas 🙄: did you really just stop typing on me??

Y/N 🍑👀: can we return to my actual question???? why the fuck did you decide to rent out the diner for your campaign?????

thomas 🙄: wasn't my idea to hold a meet and greet at a restaurant

Y/N 🍑👀: there are literally hundreds of restaurants in dc tho

thomas 🙄: and??

Y/N 🍑👀: and you just happened to rent out the diner i work at during the entirety of my shift???

thomas 🙄: pretty sure i mentioned a while back that i was gonna learn your schedule

Y/N 🍑👀: i'm not sure how good it's gonna look for your campaign when i file a restraining order against you

thomas 🙄: you mean you don't miss me? :(

Y/N 🍑👀: oh c'mon you're just asking for it now

Y/N 🍑👀: you almost make it too easy to mock you

thomas 🙄: i'm so hurt

Y/N 🍑👀: already?? i haven't even started mocking you yet

thomas 🙄: we'll see who's mocking who when you're stuck with my campaign for five hours this friday

Y/N 🍑👀: five hours??????

thomas 🙄: don't get too excited now

Y/N 🍑👀: fuck you

thomas 🙄: only after you get around to changing your sheets

✔ Read, 11:03 PM

------

Try as she might, Y/N failed to find a way out of her evening shift the following Saturday. She pleaded with her co-workers (no one else was available); she faked sick (Jac marched up to her apartment just to call her out); she was about ready to find a fake ID and leave the country when a better idea occurred to her.

Mailto: [email protected]

Hi Mr. Adams--

(No, too informal.)

Vice President Adams:

(.... Passable.)

I hope this email finds you well. This is Y/N L/N of the Washington Post, to whom you gave your email address a number of weeks ago at President Washington's gala.

(She prayed she was using 'whom' correctly.)

As you know, I've been assigned to cover the Jefferson campaign up until this November's election, and I'm reaching out for any timely information you would be willing to share on the current relationship between Secretary Jefferson and yourself, as the projected Democratic nominee. I was hoping to find out--

(What was she hoping to find out? Her mind was still attached to Ashley's most recent ominous wisdom -- don't be afraid to dig up what he's left buried. But how could she ask the vice president for dirt without erring on the wrong side of collusion?

Backspace just a little.)

I was hoping to give my readers a somewhat more personal perspective on Jefferson's time holding office as Secretary of State. Is there any chance you'd be available for an interview? Please let me know; I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

(Was regards too stiff? Backspace.)

Best regards,

Y/N L/N

She'd been hesitant to actually use the email address he'd given her; she bit her lip as she pressed send. She might not have been able to find a way out of five hours of the diner being full of nothing but Jefferson supporters, but if Ashley was looking for dirt, eavesdropping and an opposing perspective could go far for her. Despite her writing prospects, she spent the entirety of her Saturday dreading its end.

James was the first to show up. The diner was cleared of its usual patrons, but that night, it'd be operating at capacity.

"So should I assume your presence means this whole 'meet-and-greet' wasn't an elaborate hoax just to deepen my frown lines?" Y/N was looking up at him with somber resignation as he entered the diner wearing a wide smile.

"Your input and documentation are valuable to this campaign, Y/N. We would never target you like that." She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the counter, despite how amused James appeared. "In other words, you have a long evening ahead of you."

"Y'know, I'm firmly convinced you're just trying to make my life Hell until I stop covering the election," she accused him, and he laughed.

"Have a little faith. I wasn't even made aware that you work here."

"Yeah, you weren't."

"What are you implying, exactly?"

"Take a shot in the dark." She glared at him, but it had no real anger in it. "Now, I'm not sure why Thomas is so fixated on antagonizing me, but you'd better tell him--"

"James, hey, you ready to get set up?" It was at that moment the front door of the diner flew open, and it was only a moment of silence that passed before Thomas looked up from whatever he was so absorbed in on his phone, and when he caught sight of Y/N's exasperated expression, a grin split his face. "Y/N? You workin' here, now?"

"Don't even start."

"Aw, c'mon, what d'you possibly mean by that?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets; he wore a shit-eating grin, and Y/N just scowled.

"I have too many hours left in my shift to deal with you two this early." She pointed an accusing finger between the two of them as she threw down her dishrag. "I'm getting Mira and Orlando."

"Some hospitality," Thomas pouted as Y/N began to turn, pausing to give him the stink eye, and he failed to mask his entertainment under his feigned offense.

From there, the evening went about as well as she could've hoped. Mira, as expected, was beyond overjoyed to see Thomas, didn't waste even a moment in helping him set up, and when the floodgates opened at 4:30 PM sharp, Y/N's feet were sore even thinking about scurrying back and forth for five hours on the tile floor she'd already spent her morning polishing. (So much for that polish, anyway. It was less than five minutes before layer after layer of bootprints wracked the shining ceramic with an avante-garde collage of brackish slush and sidewalk gunk.)

Demands were ringing in her ears. She struggled to distinguish between her rather lifelike migraine and the surrounding frenzy of voters and journalists alike -- the voices all sounded the same. A disembodied shout requested an extra tub of honey butter, and she tossed one onto the end of the counter without thinking twice. Two dozen hamburgers over the next thirty minutes seemed a small price to pay to no longer be working the cash register.

She'd begun to count how many viruses could fit on the surface of each dollar she collected in tips with a strained smile, retreating back to the kitchen to wash her hands every time she stuck one into the pocket of her apron. Considering the crowd, she considered herself lucky she was making tips at all.

The money was an undeniable result of the wandering eyes of a number of middle-aged men in the crowd, being to various degrees of seedy -- her skinny jeans seemed to be a hit. Though he wasn't one among the crowd stuffing wadded bills into her hand with a sleazy grin every time she came around to bus tables, there was one man whose wandering gaze she kept meeting. (He'd rather have provided a much different type of gratuity, and she suspected that went beyond subsidizing her trip to the laundromat to wash her bedsheets.)

She had to put it out of her mind every time she caught and subsequently broke his stare. The wolfish smile he watched her with had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd have liked; every time she noticed it, she couldn't help but pale and duck away like a mouse dodging a trap (no matter how tempting the bait might've been). Not to mention it was distracting her from her job. She shook the thought from where it weighed down on her shoulders, instead scurrying back to the register to deal with the line.

"Alright, what can I get you?" The words were breathless as she rushed to the counter, having just made seven lattes in the span of approximately five minutes and ferried forty kilograms of dirty dishes back to the kitchen -- she wasn't looking forward to washing them at the end of the night. Her tired eyes snapped open when she realized who stood before her. "Lafayette! How long have you been here?"

"Standing in line, or in ze restaurant?" His smile was just on the right side of jeering, and she rolled her eyes.

"I didn't take that long to get here; I don't wanna hear it."

"Of course not, chérie." He eyed the menu posted above her as he spoke. "I arrived 'ere nearly two hours ago, but I 'ave only just now come to get food."

"Been avoiding me?" she teased.

"Can you blame me?" Her scowl was all but involuntary at how self-satisfied he looked, choosing to avoid her annoyed gaze. "Any recommendations from ze menu?"

"Whatever's most expensive." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she shrugged, holding her hands up defensively. "What? Like you can't afford the New England stuffed lobster?"

He pursed his lips as he looked back down at her, but his eyes were all smug amusement. "Fine. I will 'ave zat and ze agave lemonade."

"My paycheck appreciates it," she said. "That all?"

"Zat will be all for me." The devious smile he wore as he leaned in a fraction of an inch had her on edge. "But with 'ow he 'as been ogling you all night, I daresay Thomas may want something more."

"Lafayette!" she scolded him, stepping back from the counter to glare. "Why has that become the first thing you bring up every time you see me, now? I am at work."

Her seething was in a hushed tone, and he only shrugged, leafing through his wallet with a smug smile. "Remind him of zat, not me."

____________

It was nearing eight o'clock, and Y/N refused to remind herself that she still had more than an hour and a half to go. She'd deigned to wash the dishes by that point, actively avoiding the crowds in the dining room between Thomas's wolfish gaze and Lafayette's knowing smile -- she wasn't sure when her family diner had become a lion's den.

The yellow latex gloves she'd been forced to sport were an occupational hazard, she supposed, as she reached up to return her latest stack of side plates to their rightful place in the cabinet above her. When she turned back to the sink--

"Thomas!" She jumped back, holding the edge of the counter behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.

He raised an entertained eyebrow as she pulled off her thick rubber gloves, throwing them down onto the counter with a thud before reaching over to turn off the water. "What are you doing back here?" she huffed, "You can't be here."

He shrugged, and she could feel her heart rate rising along with the blood to her cheeks. Him cornering her, alone in the kitchen at her part-time job after all the texts they'd exchanged over the past week, had her feeling increasingly vulnerable.

He plastered on a mock pout, folding his arms as he leaned against the side of the counter. "Oh, nice to see you, too, Y/N. I'm great, thanks so much for askin'."

Y/N scowled. "Don't pretend I'm the one out of line, here."

"You aren't happy to see me?" His brow creased as he held a hand to his heart, and though she rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You're hurtin' my feelings. Figured it'd be a welcome surprise."

"Oh, of course, based on how thrilled I was to hear you rented the place out for the night?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

She huffed at his audacity, shaking her head.

"Anyway, what d'you want?" she asked as she moved to go back to where she'd been at the sink, shooing him away. However, entirely undeterred, he took a step toward her, and she took one back, nearing the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide.

"Thomas," she said hesitantly, and he took another nonchalant step toward her, slowly backing her against the kitchen wall. Her voice was shaky, her heart pounding in her ears like a warning bell. "What are you doing?"

"Well, sweetheart," he began matter-of-factly, his gaze hawklike. Her breathing stopped for a moment as he closed in on her, one hand landing on the wall beside her head and the other on her waist. His grin broadened. "I seem to remember being promised a 'next time.'"

At that, she couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathy. "Seriously? And you think now is a good time to cash that in? I'm working."

"So am I." He shrugged. "Makes it more fun, doesn't it?"

"No, it absolutely does not!" Her reprimanding was losing its bite, though; his smile was apparently more contagious than anything she was going to pick up from touching the used cutlery of his unsavory voters. He leaned in toward her with a mischievous eyebrow raised. "Thomas."

"Y/N," he echoed mockingly before he dipped down, lips finding the side of her cheekbone, trailing down toward her jaw.

"There's a window in here," she reminded him, despite tilting her head to give him access to her neck. "We're in plain sight."

"Not from this corner." She could feel his grin against the side of her face. "Really think I didn't think this through, sugar?"

She let out a skeptical hum when his mouth reached her collarbone, running her hands up his chest, arching up against him despite herself. "This is a bad ide-- Ah!" She squeaked when he nipped at her skin, and his grip on her hip tightened.

"Whatever you say," he murmured into her neck.

"We're going to get caught." She let out a soft gasp as his hand on her hip traveled south.

"By who? Mira?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, a playful shine to his gaze. "She gonna fire you for stealing the attention of her favorite customer?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to push back the grin that threatened to break hef stony facade. "No, she's gonna fire me for whatever health code violation this constitutes." She shoved him lightly by the shoulder, but it only prompted him to anchor her to him by the waist.

"I won't tell." The hand that rested against the wall threaded itself into her hair, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for any sort of reaction in the affirmative. She bit her lip.

"My kitchen shift ends in less than half an hour." His expression visibly deflated, and she gave a small, sly smile. "So you'd better be quick."

Delighted surprised flashed in his eyes; she squealed when he hitched one of her legs up to his waist, tightening her hold on his shoulders. "Well, I can't turn down a challenge, now, can I?"

With that, he reached over and flicked the sink's faucet back on, the water drumming loudly on the underside of a saucepan. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing?"

"Drownin' you out."

His lips returned to her neck with increased fervor, and he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, biting softly into her skin. "Fuck you," she moaned, and he laughed.

"Right here, in plain sight?"

She was about to rebuke him, eyes narrowed and mouth ajar, before he began sucking a hickey into the skin of her shoulder, and he felt her whole body relax in his grasp as she let out a groan. "You're unbelievable."

"I do my best." Her eyes began to flutter shut as she lost sight of her initial task, the small tsunami of dishes becoming hardly a wave in the distance. His hands trailed further downward, and she could feel her chest heaving as she dug her nails into the thick material of his suit. She bit down on her lip, trying to remain quiet, desperate not to draw any attention, when the door opposite them flew open.

Y/N squealed, shoving Thomas away from her, but the damage was done when she met the intruder's eye.

"Lafayette?" she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing back here?"

"So it is only a problem when I come into ze kitchen?" He gave Thomas a pointed look, who glanced to Y/N guiltily. She yanked her shirt back over the reddening mark halfway across her shoulder with a huff. "I was only coming to ask where ze bathroom was, but I fear ze two of you may need it more zan I do."

"Out. Both of you." Y/N glared at Lafayette, who looked spectacularly amused by the scene he'd walked in on. Thomas, however, looked nearly as put-out as Y/N. She walked over to pull her rubber gloves back on, turned the water off in the sink. "I need to get back to work."

"It seems you should do ze same," Lafayette commented to Thomas, who straightened his tie, scowling.

"Thanks for the reminder." He brushed past Lafayette on his way to the door before he turned to leave, casting Y/N one more burning gaze that left her palms sweating.

Y/N turned back to the sink and grabbed the next dish from the stack, expecting Lafayette to follow Thomas out, but he only raised his eyebrows, joining her near the sink as she picked up a sponge and returned to scrubbing a spot of yellowish crud from the edge of a plate, grimacing when she realized it was crusted over.

"So," he started, and she looked up at him warily, not abandoning her task. "I take it my hunch as to where you disappeared to at ze fundraiser last week was not misguided?"

She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, pausing for a moment, thoroughly displeased with the hubristic smile he wore. She didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. "What d'you want, Lafayette?"

She glanced in his direction as he pulled his lips into a dramatic pout. "Is my company not good enough for you to 'ave here? You hurt me, chérie."

"Right. No agenda there," she said dryly, and he shrugged, unable to contain his self-satisfaction.

"So, 'ow long have you and Thomas been carrying on in secret?"

After the momentary pause the bluntness of his question gave her, she rolled her eyes. He came around to the drying rack on her other side, apparently ignoring her peeved sarcasm. "We aren't."

"Non? Then what, exactly, did I just walk in on?"

"Give it your wildest guess." As she turned to add a plate to the stack, she watched Lafayette hoist himself up onto the counter to her left. He gave her a sly look.

"Why did you not tell me about your little liaison? It is not like it was difficult to figure out."

"'Liaison'," she snorted. "Is there anything you don't know how to make sound pretentious?"

"Do not avoid the matter at hand."

She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat as she turned the faucet back on, and it wasn't just the steam coming from the scalding water. "It's not like that, Lafayette. Seriously."

"'Ow far 'ave you two gone?"

"Lafayette!" She turned with that to glare at him, his nonchalance about her embarrassment only compounding upon it.

"What? Do you really not want someone to confide in?" She paused at his words, though her scowl didn't relax, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "I can only assume you 'ave not been 'aving zis conversation with Alexander. I can picture quite clearly how 'e would react."

She let out a huff of bitter laughter as she returned to the dishes. "Can't argue with that one. He thinks the hickey I came back from Detroit with was from you."

"Non!" His eyes shone with mischief, despite his contrived incredulity. "I am your cover story?"

"It's his theory; I didn't even give him the idea." She added another plate to her pile. "Though, a lot of my friends seem to think you're a whore, now."

"Mm, and why should I not go and tell them ze reality of ze situation?"

"Don't you dare!" she said. "What do you stand to gain from that?"

"Protecting my reputation, apparently," he said mildly. "Or, you could simply tell me what 'as been going on."

"Are you blackmailing me for gossip?"

"Think of it as an exchange."

She scoffed, turning her head to look at him. "You really are shameless, huh?" He shrugged, folding his arms as he turned to look at her expectantly, his knee bumping her pile of silverware. She sighed. "Fine. We screwed. You happy?"

"Delighted." He wore a small smile as he shifted her dishes out of his way. "'Ow many times? Only once? When was zis?"

"Lafayette!"

"What?" he asked innocently, but the exhaustion written across her face made him laugh. "Come on, Y/N; we are friends, non?"

"Seems like I'm stuck with you, so sure."

"Zen why do you not feel like you can speak freely with me?"

When she met his eyes that time, the words seemed to be in earnest, not even mocking in the slightest. He wore a small smile, and he broke her gaze after a moment, eyeing the layout of the kitchen.

"Alright. If it'll get you off my back." She sighed, shooting him a dirty look, and he nodded, pursing his lips to suppress the grin that was bursting at the seams. "It was a week before Friday. Only once. And, to be honest, I have no idea where to go from here."

"Thomas seems to have some idea where he wants to go." When she gave him a dead stare, he laughed. "I am not making fun of you, zis time. Truly."

"This time," she repeated bitterly. "I'm just... not entirely sure what I want. The whole thing feels risky."

"It certainly is risky if you are trying to get lucky in public during his campaign event." He gave her a scandalized look, but her scowl was unwavering.

"Thanks for the advice."

Her sarcasm left him undeterred. He shrugged. "But if you are careful, what is ze harm? I assure you, even the papers zat care enough to cover Thomas's sex life do not 'ave the resources to find out who is ending up in his bed."

She hesitated a moment, considering his words.

"No, you're probably right." She sighed. "The thing is... I don't know. It feels like it could become a problem."

"Ah, is there... something more you want out of zis?" The sidelong look he gave her was more concerned than she expected it to be. She shook her head, giving a light laugh.

"No, no, nothing like that." He'd begun moving the dishes to his other side by then to maintain his spot on the counter. Y/N rolled her eyes when she noticed. "My career just complicates things, is all."

Before he could respond, she took a step back from the counter, peeling off her rubber gloves despite the looming load of dishwashing she'd still have to do before the end of the night. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to get back to making sandwiches. Head back out to the dining room."

She jerked her chin toward the door while retying the strings on the back of her apron. Lafayette frowned.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Not trying to. Kicking you out." She gave him a flat stare as she turned toward where she stood. "Some of us have bills to pay. C'mon."

He scowled as he hopped off of the counter and she waved him away, following close behind to herd him out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her when she did, though, and his gaze looked once again as smug as it had when he first realized what he'd walked in on. "If you insist, chérie. I understand that you must do away with me before you can carry on with your little affair. Do not let me get in ze way."

Y/N rolled her eyes at how pleased he looked with himself as he strolled back into the seating area, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. However, when she returned to the kitchen counter, she couldn't help but scan the room through the front window; who she was looking for went without saying. She found him already looking at her, and she swallowed hard.

Nothing articulable was conveyed in his heavy stare, nor in the barely-there smile he wore, arms folded as he watched her shamelessly. She bit her lip. The three seconds she held his gaze felt like hours, and when he finally winked and broke eye contact to turn to someone who'd just approached his table, she felt her stomach turn. This wasn't over.

------

Thomas's rally ended at nine, but it wasn't until closer to nine-thirty that he'd persuaded the final member of his constituency to call it a night. Mira, Orlando, Jac, and all their miscellaneous employees had gone home when their shifts ended at the official end of the event, but Y/N was stuck on the clock for another hour or longer until she finished cleaning up the mess left behind from the evening. Unfortunately, his event running over time meant that he didn't start clearing out his campaign setup until around five minutes after the diner was empty, and that his posters, decorations, and gaudily-colored buttons weren't actually gone until closer to nine fifty.

Y/N was clearing the kitchen counters all the while, knowing she couldn't begin to mop up the grayish mess of liquified dirt and matted grass scattered across the floor until they were both gone. When they seemed to be on the last load of red streamers and campaign merchandise, she emerged back toward the front counter to lock up behind them. Thomas was still out in the back when James approached her, his final box of t-shirts resting on his hip.

"Is there anything else you need from us before we leave? I don't want to take up too much more of your time."

Y/N smiled at the concerned look he wore. "Depends; have you paid Mira in full for all our troubles?" Despite her exhaustion, her tone was light, and the tension in James's brow relaxed.

"I gave her the check before she left."

"Then you're good to go." She shrugged as she went to collect another basin of dirty dishes from under the side of the counter; her annoyance at it couldn't even rise, not after the mountain of plates she already had waiting for her next to the sink. "I've got everything else under control."

He nodded. "Thank you for letting us rent out the venue. All our attendees seemed more than happy with it."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here, but I'll take the credit if you're offering it." She raised a playful eyebrow, and he wore a tired smile.

"The credit's all yours."

"My gratitude is beyond words." Though the words were mocking, he let out a light laugh, and she couldn't help her wry grin.

"I'm always glad to hear it." He took another glance around the place, checking for anything that might've been left behind, before turning toward the back exit Thomas had just re-emerged from.

"What else do we still have to box up?"

James paused on his way out. "You're welcome to do a final sweep, but I believe we have everything."

"Yeah?"

"I'm fairly certain." He looked back toward where Y/N stood behind the counter once more, leaning down on the bakery case. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Bye, James." Her sleepy voice has a singsong lilt to it that made Thomas smile as he searched the dining room a final time. She'd started toward the kitchen once more to retrieve her broom, but Thomas's voice stopped her.

"Anything else I can do before I head out?"

She turned on her heel to face him, wore a soft smile when she saw how earnest he looked, eyebrows raised and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. "So long as you’ve gotten everything you brought here, there’s nothing I need from you."

"You sure?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged casually. "Just hate to leave this place a mess from our campaign event. Don't wanna leave you with all the extra cleanup."

She pursed her lips when her smile threatened to broaden. "That's sweet, Thomas, but really, it's okay. I'm on the clock for a while longer anyway. I think I can stick it out, considering I'm the one employed here."

"Feel like I remember hearin' somewhere that your shift ends at ten." He furrowed his brow, walking toward the counter where she stood. She didn't quite get his point until she turned to the clock above the doorway: it was nine fifty-eight. "'S there really nothin' I can do to help out?"

She snorted, folded her arms. "Not unless mopping the dried coffee off of the floors is your idea of a good time." When his expectant expression was unwavering, her eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously offering your services as a janitor, are you?"

The corners of his lips quirked. "Only if it's welcome, sweetheart."

"You're wearing a full suit." The disbelief in her eyes was rigid despite his conviction.

"Don't mind. Long as I can throw my jacket somewhere." He cracked a grin. "Unless, of course, you just wanna get rid of me."

She eyed him skeptically, but he didn't seem to be joking just then. "If you're serious, I'm not turning down free labor."

"Or an excuse to spend more time with me?" His tone was playful, and she couldn't help her spiteful laugh as she re-entered the kitchen.

"So that's your ulterior motive? Hope you don't think you're getting any when it's eleven o'clock and I'm half asleep from my seven hours here tonight."

"As, c'mon now, why's there gotta be an accusation?" he called after her, and she could hear the teasing frown in his voice. "Can't I just wanna lend a hand?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." She emerged not a minute later with a broom and dustpan to see him having shaken off his jacket and undone his tie. She quirked a brow.

"Hey, anywhere I can throw these?" His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he slid his tie out of his collar, popping open the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and Y/N bit her lip. The suits he wore didn't quite do justice to his physique; his jackets may have fit tighter around his upper arms, but his shirts were practically molded around his biceps just above where the veins bulging in his forearms disappeared into his sleeves. She was sure the few extra inches of visible skin below his collar were meant to draw her wandering eyes, only hinting at the toned chest she knew lay beneath the starched fabric.

When she looked back up and caught his eye, he looked predictably cocky. He wore a wide, smug grin, and she rolled her eyes before he even spoke. "You're starin', sweetheart."

Y/N shrugged, wearing the smallest of smiles. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Anything you wanna see again?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and she laughed.

"Tempting," she said, and when surprise flashed in his eyes, his interest piqued as he started toward her. However, she stopped him at arm's length, a hand on his chest. "But you know what would be really sexy?"

His delight in the turn of events was obvious. "What's that?"

She leaned her broom against the counter and took a step forward, pushing herself onto her toes until her lips brushed against the skin just below his ear, and his hands ghosted down to her hips. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Watching you disinfect all the dining room's high-touch surfaces."

She pulled back with a broad grin when he let out a disappointed groan. "Seriously?"

His frustration was obvious, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, deadpan, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Free labor really gets me going."

"Tease," he grumbled, and Y/N gave him a skeptical stare.

"Don't you gimme that; I'm not the one here under false pretenses," she reminded him, and he folded his arms.

"Now I dunno what you could be refferin' to." She raised a dubious eyebrow when a grin split his phony discontent. "But there's nothin' wrong with mixin' business and pleasure."

"Don't you dare try to derail me after taking up six hours of my time, Jefferson." She prodded his chest with a scowl. "If you're sticking around, I'm putting you to work."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." When he did grab the broom, he glanced back toward the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive frown. "I'm gonna go stick my jacket in a cupboard; is that alright? I'll only be a minute."

"Oh, yeah; do you want me to take it? We have a coat closet in the back."

"Nah, 's alright. I can find it."

Though she gave him a skeptical once-over, Y/N nodded. "Have at it."

When he wasn't back a few minutes later, her train of thoughts managed to run a full 5k -- what could he possibly be spending that much time in the back for? Was he really still trying to find a coat hanger, by then? How hard was it to find a closet in exactly two rooms? Or, really, was he just hiding out until she'd already gotten the worst of the grime off of the tile?

She eliminated her final guess when early-2000s pop music began blaring through the diner's sound system. Though she groaned loudly enough for him to hear it from where he'd located the aux input, she couldn't say this was really a downgrade from Orlando's dusk-till-dawn smooth jazz. When he emerged from behind the kitchen's swinging door and caught sight of her dead stare, he laughed.

"Hanging up your jacket, huh?" Her annoyance was contrived; the way the corners of her lips twitched up gave her away.

"Hey, I can multitask." He bit his smile back, giving her a serious look, brow furrowed. "I said I'm here to help, didn't I?"

"How is this possibly helping?"

"'Cause you need to liven up a little bit," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Cleanin's only boring if you make it boring."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you start wiping down the bathroom."

"Hey, how'd I end up on bathroom duty?" he pouted, and she shrugged, turning to the shelves at the back to hide her growing smile.

"As the only one of us who actually works here, I've elected myself the de-facto CEO." She hung her dishrag up on the rack next to the sink before looking back at him over her shoulder, shrugging. "Hate to break it to you, but you're on my turf."

"But I'm a volunteer!" he protested, and she grinned.

"My point exactly."

"Now, what if I refuse to do it?" Though she was busy restocking all the cups that she'd finished washing earlier in the day, she could hear Thomas's footsteps approaching where she stood behind the counter.

"Then you don't, and you finally leave so that I can be productive."

"Sounds like I'm really the one with the power, here."

"Not when I have something I know you want." She looked up with a suggestive smile when he hoisted himself onto the counter beside her, and he raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest.

"And now what's that?"

"Three guesses, Thomas." She had a feeling he'd only need one of them when his gaze began to wander down the length of her body, eyes shining.

"I dunno how unpaid this labor is, sweetheart."

"Well, you won't quite be making minimum wage," she said, turning back to face him as she leaned against the counter opposite where he sat. "But I think the employment benefits will make it worth your time."

"That so?" He pushed himself off the counter's edge, hardly having to take a step forward before his arms landed on either side of her on the counter's edge, caging her in, and she inhaled sharply. His grin was wide; his hips pressed into hers as he leaned in, and she swallowed roughly, leaning back on her hands which rested on the linoleum countertop.

"I'd like to think so," she breathed, as he dipped down, wasting no time as his lips met the tender skin below her jaw.

"Mm, I think I'm gonna need to decide that one for myself," he murmured against her neck, and despite how tempting it was when his hands gravitated to her waist, falling slowly further as he bit down softly on her earlobe, she pushed him away the minute she found her last shred of willpower.

"Uh-uh." Thomas scowled as he pulled back, hands planted on the counter at her sides. She folded her arms. "I'm not gonna make even more of a mess of this place that I'll have to clean up. When the diner's shining, I'd be happy to revisit."

One of his hands rose to her jawline, lifting her chin up ever so slightly to look him in the eye, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "After the place is spotless," he murmured, his voice hard and his gaze fixed on her lips, "Hope you know how much you're gonna regret leadin' me on like this. You won't be tryin' it again."

Despite her effort to remain unaffected, Y/N's breath caught, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to fight the heat rising in her cheeks. Her eyes were wider than she knew, and he seemed to be reveling in her reaction, wearing a wolfish grin.

After a moment, she swallowed, took a deep breath, her voice shaky. "Last I checked, I'm still at work."

"And I wouldn't dream of hinderin' your career." Thomas winked as he took a step back, going for the broom where she'd discarded it before, acting as though nothing at all had happened. Y/N was left reeling.

Thus began the next ninety minutes of her life. Though, to Y/N's surprise, Thomas did end up cleaning the bathrooms, putting up little resistance, he'd also managed to convince Y/N to help him. Despite there having been two of them, every subsequent task took twice as long as it otherwise would've. She'd have denied it, but Thomas's presence was a more-than-welcome distraction.

About half an hour later, he'd managed to drag her away from her Lysol bleach and her old rags in favor of taking a break to dance with him (apparently, she was underappreciating the wonder that was Outkast's greatest hit). She rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grudgingly obliged, and Thomas couldn't help but call out the small, growing smile that broke her grumpy facade. He'd seemingly done the impossible by getting her to let herself go for an evening. Neither of them was quite sure how the floor had gradually become spotless between their distracted banter, nor when exactly they'd managed to wipe down every surface in the kitchen as his playlist seamlessly ventured through every one of Britney Spears's wildest phases.

She'd just about forgotten about her fatigue as Thomas repeatedly soaked the ankles of her jeans with his mop, claiming that her being in his line of sight was just too much of a distraction for him to do his job properly. She scoffed every time, but the fact that her cheeks had grown sore from smiling made her annoyance marginally less convincing.

He eventually took off his shiny black oxfords after having spent the evening trying to hide his concern over some of the chemicals in her soaps ruining the varnish; she didn't bother to argue with his insistence that it absolutely marked a milestone in their progress that he wasn't afraid to step in any greenish gunk or black mold -- if they hadn't missed any, what was the harm? However, she did reprimand him for ransacking their fridge when she left for three minutes to put the mop away. She didn't stay mad long.

Wiping down the glass of the bakery display case took too long for her liking. As it turned out, it was difficult to focus after teasing him for the expected mediocrity of the John Mayer impression he claimed to be impeccable, as he immediately decided it needed to be proven. However, she didn't regret provoking him when the result had her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. She was just glad that they'd nearly finished cleaning.

Much to his dismay, Thomas had to cut the music after the sweet old lady who lived above the dry-cleaners next door came down, banging on the back door to chew them out. The fire behind her threats to file a noise complaint with the cops died down pretty quickly when Thomas offered her a beignet and a cup of tea, sending her on her way with a winning smile, a to-go box, and a Jefferson campaign button. (Y/N proceeded almost immediately to scold him for just giving away the fruits of her hours of labor behind a deep-fryer.)

But as the music was revoked, their animated evening of slacking off began to wind down. The only thing left for them to do was to finish the dishes, and Thomas proved to be much more helpful with this than Lafayette had been earlier in the day.

All was quiet as he washed the dishes and she proceeded to dry them, silence split only by his sporadically humming the best of the Black Eyed Peas. It was comfortable, just being together as the warm air wafted from the cooling oven not too far behind, as their hands brushed every time he passed her another plate. Her lips were pursed in a feeble effort to hide how endeared she was every time she glanced to him, his sleeves soaked past the elbow while he remained unbothered. If he noticed, he didn't mention. Finally--

"How are you so good with people?"

"Hm?" He turned his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, and she had to ignore the flecks of foamed soap that clung to his curls and his shirt. Y/N shrugged.

"I just mean..." Her smile was shy; she didn't meet his eyes. "I don't get how you do it. Mira absolutely dotes on you; you've befriended half of our staff after one night here. You just talked to my crankiest neighbor for literally all of five minutes, and suddenly, she's part of your voting bloc."

He just watched her for a moment. His stare was soft. "Can't help it if people find me irresistible."

Her loud, disbelieving scoff made him grin, but she looked far from annoyed. "That's your secret? You were just born with it? It isn't Maybelline?"

Though he laughed quietly, when she turned to him with her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. Her question seemed to be in earnest. "I dunno, sweetheart. Don't think it's anything special. People seem just as drawn to you, anyway."

"Sure, 'cause I have a nice ass, and I'm wearing tight jeans. Not the same thing." How frankly she spoke made him grin, and he shot her a wink, passing off another bowl to her.

"Can't argue with that." She rolled her eyes as she began drying the next dish. He bumped his elbow lightly against hers, gaze teasing yet soft. "But you know that's not what I meant."

She sighed. "Alright, fine, but I'm not forty-points-ahead-in-the-polls charismatic. I just... can't figure out what it is about you that people seem so drawn to."

As she concluded moments later, the uninvited smile she wore when he flashed her a warm grin could've contributed to the reason. She turned back to the plates before her, feeling her skin warm under his heavy gaze. "So you're tellin' me people don't follow me strictly 'cause of my political framework and field experience?"

"Oh, I'm sure every one of your supporters has invested hours into reading the 174-page pdf of fiscal policy your campaign published." Another stack of cups went into the cupboard below her.

"People really don't care about how taxin' it was for me to write all that? And here I was, thinkin' every American voter was out there doin' their homework." He looked with disappointment down at the salad plate he was scrubbing at present, but Y/N wasn't buying it.

"Thomas," she groaned as she turned to meet his phony pout, her stare flat. Her mild annoyance only served to amuse him further, and though she scowled when he laughed, he leaned over to gently kiss the crown of her head. She could feel herself flush despite how chaste it was; the casual affection left her more thrown than if he'd tried to rail her in the middle of the kitchen.

"'M only kiddin'," he defended, voice heavy with mirth, making her roll her eyes.

"Aren't you always?" she asked, wiping off the inside of a cup.

"'Course not." He frowned, and she deadpanned as she turned to him, arms folded.

"I'm not sure we've had a serious conversation since I met you."

"Now, that's just not true."

"Isn't it?" He put down the saucepan he was rinsing out to turn to her, matching her demeanor.

"It isn't. I know I tease, but I've never been anythin' but one-hundred percent authentic with you, Y/N."

A moment passed where neither said anything. The corners of Y/N's lips quirked at how sincere he sounded as he waited for her to react. Finally, she turned back to the dishes before her with a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe this is what it is."

"Hm?"

"Why people like you. This whole endearingly earnest act you've got going on. I could see that being pretty appealing to voters."

"Hey, what d'you mean act?" He bumped his shoulders into hers, offense written across his face, and she laughed.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Traipsing around from state to state like some type of charismatic golden boy. Making everyone feel all special and appreciated. It's a good tactic; don't get me wrong." She shrugged as she shelved the last stack of bowls. Just a few more things to wash, and they could officially consider the diner spotless. She didn't think much of her own words, but he hung onto them. It was inexplicable as to why he took so much pride in her all but admitting he made her feel special.

"My bein' all kind-hearted and charmin' isn't some scheme," he said after a moment, plastering on a scowl, and she raised an eyebrow as he passed her a fork. For a brief moment, she was worried she'd crossed a line, but when his eyes met hers, his gaze was playful. "'M just a nice person. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Her mouth fell open in surprise, indignant but hardly disguising her smile, and she let out a huff. "I was joking, you asshole!" When he only snickered, she pursed her lips, shoving him away from her with the little comparative strength she had.

"Hey, now!" His reprimanding had very little bite to it with the laugh carried in his voice as he stumbled a step to his right, tugging the faucet head along with him. He scowled at Y/N's self-pleased smile, flicking his wrist to turn the spray of water from the sink onto her.

She yelped, jumped back from it, but he'd already managed to drench the front of her shirt. She wore an expression of disbelief as she paused a moment, watching him return to the dishes as if nothing had happened despite his entertained grin. It was then that she struck back, lunging toward the sink to retaliate, and he wasn't quite quick enough to stop her.

He could only do damage control once she'd already managed to spray a line of water across his chest, and she gasped when he pushed her back to her part of the counter.

"You're more trouble than I was expectin'," he laughed, and she folded her arms.

"You're no walk in the park yourself."

"But you're the one who decided to let me stick around, sweetheart," he retorted, giving her a pointed look, and she shrugged good-naturedly.

"You might be a handful, but you're worth having around once in a while."

He laughed at how matter-of-factly she spoke, and for once, she wore an unabashed grin. "Now you're just flatterin' me," he teased.

"Oh, of course, such high praise; you aren't always awful."

"Hey, that means somethin', comin' from you," he defended, prodding her in the side, and she squealed, jumping away.

"Hands off, Jefferson. I'm at work."

"Aw, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect your professional boundaries."

"Check yourself next time," Y/N scowled, but there was no heat to it. The pair caught one another's eyes, both wearing the same, gentle smile, and it seemed too soon when he broke her gaze, returning to the last couple pieces of silverware. She watched him another moment until he turned to pass her a ladle. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her gaze hadn't strayed.

She only turned back to the counter when she took the ladle from him, drying it off and sliding it back into its place in the drawer. All was quiet, and though they could both feel the chilled air of the spring night drifting in through the poorly-sealed back door, where they stood, it felt perfectly warm.

He glanced at her. "'S nice to see you like this."

The comment was offhanded; he didn't wait for a response, only returned to washing the spoons, but Y/N furrowed her brow.

"Like what?"

He turned back to her with a raised brow, mildly surprised at the curious frown she wore, and he shrugged, still wearing his faint smile. "I dunno." She didn't fill the silence, and he continued, "With your guard down. Always feels like you've got some kinda walls up."

She swallowed; for a split second, her gaze was absent. Ultimately, she sighed. "I guess I'm just cautious," she said quietly, and Thomas frowned at the defensive lilt that had returned to her tone.

"I get it." He reached over to finally turn off the water, and she put away the final fork he handed her. "'S not always worth lettin' people in."

His smile was tiny, barely there, but understanding, and when she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her. "It just makes it too easy to get hurt."

He nodded, eyes kind. "'M glad I make you feel like you can relax."

She hardly shrugged as he turned to her, leaning on his hand on the countertop. "Yeah." A small smile graced her lips as she eyed his expression, and she bit her lip. "I guess there are worse things, huh?"

His laugh made her nervous gaze soften. "Aw, sugar, you're too kind," he said, the mocking sarcasm in his voice balanced out by how gentle his grin was. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said softly, and he plastered on a mock pout. "I'm not building up your ego any more, alright? I'm not sure it has any room to grow."

"I wouldn't mind you makin' me just a little bit more conceited, now."

She finally turned all the way to him, putting down the dishcloth she'd been using for drying, and despite herself, the affection in the way he was looking back down at her made her heart flutter. "If you're looking for blind adoration, you should've figured out by now that I'm not the girl for that."

"No, you really aren't, are you?" Though her words had been pointed, had come with the intention to knock him back down a peg, his low voice was far, far from contemptuous. Her eyebrows jumped when he took a step toward her, taking her chin in his hand to lift her face to his before bending down to meet her where she stood, his confident lips gentle against hers. "You're so much more than that," he murmured, not pulling away enough to even look her in the eye, their noses brushing together.

Though she hesitated, it was a moment later that Y/N took a step forward to meet him halfway, her tentative touch rising up the stiff material of his shirt and to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, and their lips met once again.

The patience in his every move was new to her, inconsistent with the raw desire that usually governed his actions. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, her mouth parted in a soft moan, and he took the opportunity for what it was, wasting little time in pressing his tongue teasingly against hers. He was holding her close, but she was arched fully up against him regardless of it, wanting to feel the movement of his body against hers. Both her arms looped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

The kiss was deep, intimate, but not harsh, and when his mouth moved to the skin of her neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed with her silent sigh as his hands moved down to grip the backs of her thighs. She couldn't help her surprise at how effortless it was for him to pick her up, to lift her onto the counter she'd been standing in front of. She groaned when his lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, all but going limp in his grasp.

"Thomas," she whined, wrapping her legs more tightly around him to anchor his hips against hers, grinding against his hard body.

"Come home with me," he muttered into her neck, and though she gasped at the feeling of his teeth scraping against her, she pulled back to look him in the eye, raising his head to hers with a hand in his curls.

"What?" she whispered, chest heaving, and he pressed another soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

"Come home with me," he repeated, looking into her wide eyes.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her hesitance, and she took a deep breath. "Thomas, I live upstairs; if you wanna stay, I... I definitely wouldn't mind that, but--"

She cut herself off at his skeptical hum, and he said, "Listen, I almost got caught tryin' to sneak outta here in the morning last Saturday, and I'm not tryna have a repeat of that, alright? Just come back to my place." One of his hands lifted from her thigh to weave itself into her hair, holding her head by her nape as he kissed her, more intently that time. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."

She swallowed. "Pull your car around the back."

---------

It was hours later that Y/N found herself lying exhausted on satin sheets, slumped in a penthouse just across the river and high above the city. Thomas hadn't been lying about making the most of her time; his hands had seldom left her skin from the moment she entered his passenger seat, dragging her quickly past the doorman on the first floor of his building, pinning her against the wall of the elevator for a heated, fleeting moment before he'd finally tugged her the rest of the way to his apartment.

She was wrapped in his covers up to her chest, feeling just on the wrong end of self-conscious, but her clothes were rumpled and sprawled across every corner of the rooms they had to pass to reach his bed. They hadn't been overly concerned with where the outfit ended up, just that it wasn't on her skin. Every joint in her body was already sore, and she groaned as she tried to sit up, leaning against his headboard as Thomas returned to her with a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, and he couldn't help but grin at how hoarse she sounded as he handed her the cup.

"'Course, sweetheart." He came to sit beside her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, and she took a long sip of the water, nearly draining all of it in one gulp. "You alright? Everything still feeling okay?"

"I'm exhausted, and my ass hurts like a bitch," she griped, but when he raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "But I'm all good. Might have to bill you for the truckload of concealer I'll need to cover up all these fucking marks, but I'm fine."

"Good." He squeezed her thigh lightly when she leaned against his side, her legs bent and knees pulled in toward her chest. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against himself with a small smile.

"Can't believe I didn't know you live in the same building as Lafayette, though," she mumbled, and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, he actually lives just across the hall. When he came back from France lookin' for a place to live, I thought it'd be fun if we were neighbors, and he took me up on it pretty easily."

She hummed her acknowledgment. "So that means, when Lafayette showed up half an hour late to your lunch date and I was there instead, that it would've taken you all of five seconds just to go home?"

He laughed. "Now, what exactly are you accusin' me of?"

"Being a pain in my ass two weeks ago," she grumbled, and he shrugged, wearing a small, self-contented smile and not bothering to argue with her.

"You didn't seem to mind me bein' a pain in your ass last night." He raised a smug eyebrow, and she scowled, turning her head to break the eye contact. She disregarded the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks.

"You say 'last night' as though we didn't get back here less than four hours ago."

"Don't pretend you don't get the picture."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked when he kissed the top of her hair. She looked down at the cup she held against her chest. "Is it cool if I stay over?"

"'Course. I don't want you gettin' in an Uber with some creep in the middle of the city at this time of night."

"Mm, but you had no problem with me getting in a Bentley with some creep in the middle of the city four hours ago?"

Despite the teasing bite to her words, he grinned. "Hey, now, I'm just sayin' you gotta be selective about which creeps you're lettin' drive you around at all hours."

"I mean, you haven't killed me yet, so I'd call that a point in your favor." She yawned, reaching over to put the glass he'd given her on his bedside table. "We should get some sleep. It's late, and I'm sure you have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"Alright, sweetheart." She pushed herself forward from the headboard, laying back onto the pillow she'd been leaning on, holding it close to her head as he reached over to turn off the lamplight before joining her under the covers. "G'night."

"Night, T."

They fell asleep almost immediately in one another's arms.

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

5:17 AM

From: [email protected]

Y/N--

I’m glad you reached out. Your writing’s excellent as always, but if there’s information you want, you’ve very much come to the right place. I’ve worked with Thomas for years, and though they left me dismayed, I’ve become quite familiar with the not-so-shining moments in his background.

I’d rather not put anything in writing should someone find this communication. Let’s find a somewhat private place to meet. Be sure to bring a recorder and a notepad. Believe me when I say you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.

John Adams

359 notes · View notes

thebluemartini · 6 years ago

Text

Under Your Spell - Nessian at Hogwarts AU Fanfic

TITILE: Under Your Spell SYNOPSIS: Hogwarts AU. One could say Cassian, a Gryffindor, has had an obsession with Nesta Archeron, a Slytherin, since their fourth year at Hogwarts. But as they enter their seventh and final year, Cassian realizes he has feelings for her and is determined to ask her out on a date before he runs out of time. He can only hope she'll agree to go out with him, considering they've spent the past few years bickering at each other. RATING: T FIC LENGTH: oneshot, 15K+ words SLIGHT WARNING: Tomas makes an appearance in this story, but when Nesta tells him to stop kissing and touching her, he does...he's just a royal jerk about it. *This fic is also posted on AO3 and FF. A/N: I was in the midst of drafting a post-ACOFAS Nessian multi-chapter fic when I got a bit of writer's block, then had read a tumblr post about what Hogwarts houses would the ACOTAR characters be in. A plot bunny was then born and I had to write this (despite not being one for AUs really...) because the thought of Nesta and Cassian at Hogwarts was SO CUTE to me!I just figured this oneshot would be around 5K words and not 15K words (!!!). I hope you enjoy it!

TAGGING some folks who have expressed interest in reading my Nessian fics in the past/Nessian-related blogs that may want to reblog :) (but I understand if a Hogwarts AU is not your thing!): @dreaming-of-bohemian-nights @queenofillea1@trash-for-nessian @nestaarcheronwillkillme @my-fan-side @strangeenemy @maastrash @cageddovepoetry

One could say Cassian has had an obsession with Nesta Archeron since their fourth year at Hogwarts.

As a Gryffindor, he didn’t pay Nesta much attention before then. She was a Slytherin after all. They surely had classes together, but he typically only hung around with his best friends, fellow Gryffindors Rhysand and Azriel.

But in their fourth year, during a Potions class, Cassian had his first significant interaction with Nesta.

Each student had been required to make a boil cure potion. Cassian had failed to make the potion correctly at first, having added snails instead of horned slugs to his concoction. So toward the end of class, he had to start the potion off from scratch and hurriedly put it together. In his rush, he had plopped the horned slugs into his brew, which happened to splash the unfinished potion onto Nesta’s arm as she walked by. Soon, big, red, pus-filled boils began to form not only on her arm but all over her body as she gave him the most horrifying glare that felt like it pierced his very soul. Then, in a bold move, she reached for the spoon beside him, stuck it into his brew, and purposefully splashed him back. Instantly, the boils covered his own body as he scowled at her.

The two of them had been sent to the hospital wing, where they were placed in beds next to each other. Despite his apology for accidentally splashing her, Nesta sent insults his way the entire afternoon, and Cassian felt compelled to fire back at her.

And ever since that day, they’ve always bickered at and teased each other.

At first, Cassian was truly annoyed with her whenever he saw her. But at some point over the years, he began seeking her out to playfully tease her because he grew to enjoy their interactions.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. He simply felt drawn to her. Perhaps it was her boldness. Perhaps it was because she didn’t fawn over him and his friends like the other girls at Hogwarts did. Or maybe it was because she could verbally spar with him.

...As well as hold her own in a physical spar with him. In their fifth year, they had to duel each other in a Defense Against the Dark Arts class (using non-injurious spells, of course). With every spell he shot at her, she was always ready to shield herself and shoot one back. Neither of them were able to disarm the other, resulting in a tie.

Not only was she strong in intelligence and her fight, but she was beautiful. Cassian could never ignore that fact. From her high cheekbones to her luscious lips to the wicked amusement that would sometimes flicker in her smoky gray eyes...everything about her physique was alluring.

In fact, it was those captivating eyes of hers that had him beginning to question if he actually had feelings for her. Towards the end of their sixth year, he had been caught after curfew snogging with Hufflepuff Holly Langforden in a broom closet by Nesta. Upon finding them both with tousled hair and disheveled clothes, Nesta’s beautiful eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in irritation as, ever the prefect, she announced she was deducting ten points from both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff before angrily ordering them to return to their dormitories.

And yet, seeing Nesta’s shocked and fury-filled eyes had made him feel...guilty. If it was any other prefect who had caught them, he wouldn’t have felt bad at all. In fact, he’d been caught snogging other girls in broom closets multiple times since his fifth year, and it never bothered him one bit to be breaking the rules. It only bothered him that he couldn’t snog the girls a little while longer.

But Nesta finding him...had brought a weird feeling to his stomach. He didn’t cheerfully return to his dormitory afterwards as he usually would have done, having just made out with a girl. Instead, he walked at a slow pace, head cast down, with his hands in his pockets as he contemplated that strange feeling.

It was as though he felt sorry Nesta had caught him with someone else. That he regretted it instantly upon seeing Nesta open the door.

That he perhaps wished it was her he was actually snogging, untangling the crown braid around her head as he did so.

But he was quick to push that thought away. It had nearly been the summer anyway, and he had been certain he would soon forget all about her.

Well, he went off to Rhys’ home for the summer...and couldn’t forget about her.

All he could seem to think about was her.

The sight of books sprawled about Rhys’ home made him think of all the times he’d seen Nesta at the library. Rhys’ mother’s garden of various flowers had him remembering the one time he witnessed her sister placing flowers within Nesta’s hair as they sat beside the Great Lake. The grayness of the sky on stormy days reminded him of her eyes. Even in the simple, silly things such as noticing the contrast of silverware at dinner against a green tablecloth brought his favorite Slytherin to mind.

He missed bickering with her. He missed her witty comebacks and her clever insults.

He just missed her.

And that was when he knew that he had to ask her out this year - their final year at Hogwarts. Before they went off to pursue their careers, he had to figure out whatever this thing with Nesta was...and if it was something that could last longer than their time at Hogwarts.

As he boarded the Hogwarts Express, with Rhys and Az following behind him, he searched for a compartment for them to sit. They’d been running pretty late, as usual, and most of the compartments were already full.

But towards the back, upon popping his head in one compartment, Cassian was delighted to find Nesta’s two sisters...with an empty spot next to them that would likely be filled by her.

And space to fit three more passengers across from them.

Cassian’s face beamed, and he felt his heart race as he asked, “Mind if we join you ladies?”

“Oh, please do,” Elain said sweetly with a kind smile, while Feyre nodded in agreement.

Cassian nodded in thanks to them. He had only ever had very brief interactions with Elain. She was a sixth-year Hufflepuff, and he didn’t see her often. He knew Feyre only slightly better since she was a fellow housemate, just two years younger than him.

Rhys and Az followed behind him into the compartment, and he could see the faces of Elain and Feyre brighten as everyone greeted each other.

Cassian plopped down in the seat across from the empty one he had assumed Nesta would soon fill. His heart began to pound at the prospect of seeing her after such a long summer without her.

A summer of dreaming about her and hoping he could go out with her.

Elain seemed to catch him looking at the empty space beside her. “Nesta’s in the prefect’s compartment, but she usually stops by to see us.”

Cassian hoped his disappointment didn’t show on his face. The prefect’s compartment...he had completely forgotten about the special perks of being a prefect.

But that also meant that as a prefect, she would have to patrol the train’s corridor at some point today. The thought brought a slight grin to his face. He could just make...periodic visits to the bathroom, maybe linger a bit in the train corridor, with the hope of seeing Nesta.

So for the following six hours aboard the train, that’s what he did. At the top of each hour, he’d make a leisurely walk to and from the bathroom...and sometimes get scolded by a prefect who wasn’t Nesta.

At one point, Rhys and Az thought something was wrong with him for having to go to the bathroom so many times. Not wanting to admit his true intentions in front of Nesta’s sisters, he simply insisted he was bored of just sitting around and needed to keep moving.

But now he was actually bored of pretending to go to the bathroom with no success of seeing Nesta. Cassian sighed as he stared out the glass window and watched the green scenery roll by as dusk fell. Rhys and Az were still in casual conversation with Feyre and Elain...but Cassian’s anxiousness over seeing Nesta prevented him from paying any attention to them.

Cassian glanced down at his watch. It was nearly an hour since he last left the compartment and probably about two hours until they reached Hogwarts. He supposed he could go ahead and change into his robes now before the mad dash of students going to the bathroom.

Grabbing his robes from his suitcase and stepping out of the compartment, he slowly turned his head from the left to the right, searching for any sign of a prefect.

And there was none. Cassian groaned before turning left and headed to the bathroom.

Once he put on his new robes, he left the bathroom and wandered down the corridor past his compartment. Every prefect had a shift to patrol the corridor. Surely, with two hours to go, Nesta would be out here.

As he casually walked along, he eventually stopped in between two compartments and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms against his chest with the clothes he had just changed out of draped over one of his arms. He might as well just wait for her to show up...and then she could scold him for hanging around in the passageway.

And so he waited.

And waited.

And then finally…

“Get back in your compartment!” a familiar voice reprimanded him from his right. Cassian turned up his head at her and smiled brightly. There Nesta stood, with her familiar stormy eyes and her stern expression. Her light pink lips glowed against her sun-kissed skin, and her braid crown made her seem angelic despite her irritated expression. Had she somehow become more beautiful over the summer or had he simply misremembered her beauty?

Nesta held up her wand and directed it at him.

“But I’m rather enjoying this view,” Cassian said with a smirk as he stared at her intently.

“Go back to your compartment and look at the scenery outside the window if you’re looking for a view,” Nesta suggested in a steely tone.

“But this view is so much prettier,” he said, still grinning and still intently staring at her. He could count the few small freckles on her nose.

(There were seven.)

A light pink blush briefly covered Nesta’s cheeks, and upon seeing it, Cassian longed to have many opportunities where he could make her blush.

“Is that the same line you used to get Holly Langforden to jump in a broom closet with you?” Nesta asked drily.

At first, Cassian frowned. But the fact that she even remembered who she caught him in a broom closet with…

“No. But does it make you want to jump in a broom closet with me?”

“Absolutely not,” she answered coldly. “Why don’t you go find her compartment anyway and see if that line works? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“You sure seem interested in my love life. Are you jealous?” he smirked at her.

“Any woman that takes your attention away from me has both my gratitude and my sympathy,” she stated snobbily.

Cassian frowned again. “Well, for your information, I broke up with her before the summer,” he replied.

“What a shame for me. But a relief for her at least.”

“You know you missed me this summer, Archeron. Admit it,” he teased her, but secretly hoped she actually did miss him as much as he missed her.

“I did not miss being annoyed by you one bit. Now get back to your compartment,” Nesta prodded his upper arm with her wand, gesturing for him to get a move on.

Cassian gradually started moving, and Nesta followed him to ensure he returned to his compartment.

As Cassian slid open the door to his compartment, he heard Nesta let out a small gasp behind him.

“Nesta!” Elain shouted upon seeing her behind him.

Cassian took his seat and looked back to Nesta to find her frowning more deeply at him as well as Rhys and Az.

“What are you doing sharing a compartment with my sisters?” she asked in an annoyed tone.

“Nesta, they needed a place to sit!” Elain tried to explain, but Nesta just continued to stare intently at Cassian.

Stars, he loved her eyes even when they glowered at him.

“Nes, there was nowhere else for us to sit, except for the aisle, where I would’ve gotten run over by the trolley,” Cassian stated.

“That sounds like it would’ve been the perfect place for you to sit,” Nesta spat. “And don’t call me Nes!”

“Well, maybe it would’ve been the perfect spot because you could’ve found me in the aisle and scolded me for being there, and I could’ve seen your beautiful face much sooner,” Cassian said as he winked at her.

Elain and Feyre giggled at his comment and looked up at Nesta expectantly, wanting to see how she would respond. Rhys and Az’s eyes widened in amusement at his comment.

The seam of Nesta’s lips remained in a straight line across her face, clearly unimpressed with his reply. “You better not have corrupted my sisters.”

“Nesta!” Feyre exclaimed. “They have done no such thing.”

“You’ve brain-washed them already, I see,” Nesta said, still not removing her eyes from Cassian’s. Feyre sighed out of frustration.

“Nesta, here’s your book. It was in my bag,” Elain said, changing the subject as she dug through her sack and pulled out a book to give to Nesta.

As Nesta accepted the book, Cassian noticed it was a Potions textbook.

And that could mean…

“Nesta, are you taking Potions this year?”

Nesta didn’t deign to verbally respond to him. Instead, she just firmly nodded.

“Perhaps, we’ll share a Potions class then,” Cassian added.

Nesta let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll see you two later,” Nesta said with a look to her sisters. Then turning to him, Rhy and Az, she gave them a cold look. “Don’t you dare corrupt them.”

Nesta turned and left the compartment, ignoring her sisters’ protests at her statement.

Cassian could only sigh contentedly at having seen Nesta. Despite her insults, his heart was pumping wildly within him.

He’d never had such a reaction over simply talking to a girl before.

If his summer of daydreaming of her wasn’t enough, this was further proof that Nesta was...different. Special. Someone he wanted to spend time with and not just snog in broom closets like some of the other girls.

Cassian suddenly discovered Rhys and Az staring at him.

“What?”

“That look on your face...I’ve never seen that look on your face before,” Rhys said.

“What look?”

“Like you’re hopelessly in love,” Az piped in.

Elain and Feyre squealed with delight hearing this.

Well, he wasn’t sure if he was in love with her, but he certainly wanted to get to know her better.

“Are you going to ask her out?” Elain asked excitedly.

“Soon. But please don’t say anything to her,” Cassian coolly replied before turning to stare out the window, thinking about possible ideas for what he and Nesta could do for their first date.

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

It took Cassian three weeks to figure out what he and Nesta could do for their date.

The date of the first Hogsmeade trip had been announced, which was a little less than two weeks from now. It was the perfect place for a first date, considering there were plenty of shops to explore as well as places to eat together. It was an excellent opportunity for them to really get to know each other.

Now he just actually had to ask her to go with him and hope she would accept.

The two of them indeed ended up having the same Potions class, which occurred twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And every class, Cassian made sure to talk to her and always slip in some sort of comment about how beautiful she was, causing her to blush each time before she told him she had to get to working on the assigned potion and suggested he go do the same.

At least she didn’t angrily tell him to go away. And to Cassian, that was progress. Perhaps she was slowly succumbing to his charm.

But today was the day he would finally ask her to go out with him.

And as luck would have it, their Potions professor announced he did not have enough ingredients for everyone to make an individual potion that day and they would all have to work with a partner instead. Typically, students worked with a fellow housemate, but this class just so happened to have an odd number of Gryffindors and an odd number of Slytherins….

Cassian couldn’t help but grin to himself as he dashed over to the table Nesta was standing at.

“Nesta, will you be my partner?” Cassian asked casually.

Nesta quickly scanned the room and saw everyone else had paired off already. “Well I guess I have no other choice.” She immediately opened up the textbook to the page that listed the potion directions and began walking around the room to gather all the ingredients.

She didn’t get angry or upset over being his partner.

Progress.

But now...Cassian had to do the actual asking her out on a date part, and that sent his heart racing.

This never happened with any of the other girls he’d asked out...except for maybe the first time he ever asked a girl out. But ever since then, asking girls out came easily to him and he never got worked up over it.

But now…

Cassian didn’t understand what was wrong with him.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Nesta reprimanded him as she appeared at his side and set down a multitude of vials and jars. “Be useful.”

Cassian immediately picked up the textbook and read aloud the first instruction to her. Nesta listened to his words, picking up the jar of powdered moonstone and dumping it into the cauldron that sat on the table before them.

“What next?” Nesta asked.

“Uh, then add three spoonfuls of honeywater,” he said a bit shakily. His nerves were getting to him.

Nesta eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure that’s what it says? You don’t sound confident.”

He just needed to ask her out and get this over with.

“Yes, three spoonfuls of honeywater,” he reiterated.

Nesta pulled the cork out of the vial of honeywater, then picked up the spoon and began pouring the honeywater onto it, hovering over the top of the cauldron before adding the first spoonful to their concoction.

“Uh, Nesta…” Cassian began, his heart feeling like it would burst through his chest at any moment. He wondered if she could hear it.

“Hmm?” Nesta was focused on putting the second spoonful into their potion and began working on the third.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Nesta’s eyes widened and she immediately looked away from her spoon to look up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Would you like to go on the Hogsmeade trip that’s coming up...with me ?” he said, not really sure what else she was looking for him to say.

“Like a date?”

“Yes.”

“Are you serious?” she questioned him incredulously. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Yes, I’m serious. No, it’s not a joke,” Cassian instantly insisted. “I honestly want to take you out on a date.”

“Darn it,” Nesta exclaimed upon realizing she had still been pouring honeywater onto the spoon, causing it to overflow and spill into their cauldron. “Look what you made me do! Now our potion will probably come out wrong,” she said in a frustrated tone as she put down the vial and the spoon. “You and your games,” she muttered.

“Nesta, I’m sorry. This isn’t a game. I truly want to go with you to Hogsmeade,” Cassian explained.

“Why?”

“Because I want to spend time with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you, and I want to get to know you better.”

Nesta’s eyes widened even more at his confession, and she said nothing as she fumbled around for something, anything it seemed, on the table.

“So will you honor me with your presence and go to Hogsmeade with me?” Cassian asked again.

“I can’t. Someone else already asked me to go with him,” Nesta explained softly.

Her response brought Cassian a flood of emotions. First, fury because who in the world dared to ask Nesta to Hogsmeade before him? Second, sadness because he wasn’t going to be able to go to Hogsmeade with her. Third, hope...because Nesta didn’t outright deny wanting to go out with him. She simply said she could not go because of another date…

“Who?” Cassian wondered.

“Tomas Mandray.”

“Tomas Mandray?” Cassian exclaimed in disgust, his mouth dropping open. “That piece of Slytherin scum?!”

“He is not a piece of scum,” Nesta stated sternly. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a Slytherin too.”

“I know. I didn’t mean you were scum...just that he himself was the Slytherin type of scum,” Cassian explained awkwardly.

Nesta simply shook her head, completely perplexed. “Let’s get back to the potion,” she said.

“Will you go out with me some other time then?” Cassian blurted out, ignoring her request.

“Did you make some bet that you could get me to go on a date with you or what?” Nesta questioned him, her voice quickly returning to its irritated tone. “Or maybe you just wanted to see if you could get my hopes up by asking me on a date and then stand me up for fun.”

“No, Nesta,” Cassian said urgently as he put down the textbook on the table. He grabbed her hands and stared into her eyes. “This isn’t a game or a joke or a bet. I honestly want to go out with you.”

Nesta took a deep breath as she stared back at him. “I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

“What can I do to prove it to you?” Cassian pleaded quietly.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m going out with Tomas and who knows...Maybe it will lead to more dates,” Nesta said simply as she pulled her hands out of his grasp.

How could he not have asked soon enough? The Hogsmeade date was only announced just the day before...

Damn Tomas Mandray.

The man was a complete and utter dolt and a total snob. Him and Cassian had never gotten along, so they’d always kept their distance from each other.

Crestfallen, Cassian simply lifted up the textbook once more and began to read off the directions in a monotone voice.

Nesta followed his instructions perfectly.

But there was no teasing, no playful bickering, no insults.

They didn’t say anything to each other with the exception of the reading of the instructions.

And it just didn’t feel...right to him. For them to be like this.

After having gotten his hopes up about a date with Nesta...he felt so disappointed. What was he supposed to do now?

At the end of class, they parted ways without a word to each other.

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

Cassian spent the days leading up to the Hogsmeade trip moping around. Even Rhys and Az called him out in it.

“You’re seriously this depressed that a Slytherin can’t go out with you? Let alone one who’s been moody and vicious to you?” Rhys had asked him one afternoon upon seeing him just lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling instead of venturing outside like he usually would have done.

“There’s more to her than that cold exterior,” Cassian had told him calmly.

When he had seen Nesta during their next few Potions classes, he still acknowledged her...he just didn’t really talk to her or tease her like he would’ve done previously.

And it just felt...strange. Like the joy of going to class was gone.

He’d been rejected before. That was nothing new.

But he had spent so many months longing for a date with Nesta...that for it to not happen was...heartbreaking.

And now the day of the Hogsmeade trip was here, and he still felt grumpy over the whole thing. He didn’t bother trying to find another date. He considered no longer going, but Rhys and Az managed to drag him along anyway.

They found themselves a table at the Three Broomsticks, and each had a pint of butterbeer before them.

“Do you think he’s going to take her Madam Puddifoot’s?” Cassian suddenly wondered aloud.

Az and Rhys gave him a bewildered look. “What are you talking about?” Rhys asked.

“Tomas and Nesta. Do you think he’s going to take her to Madam Puddifoot’s?” Cassian replied. “He probably is...he would do something completely unoriginal,” he muttered bitterly.

Az and Rhys sighed. “Cassian, you’ve got to stop thinking about this,” Az said.

“I can’t.”

“This isn’t even a breakup,” Rhys stated. “Just let it go.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “It isn’t that simple.”

“What kind of hold does this girl have on you? You’ve never had this problem before with other girls.”

Cassian sighed as he slumped in his seat. “I don’t know.”

As he took another sip of butterbeer, he couldn’t help but wonder if Nesta was sipping a beverage just as sweet at the tea shop.

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

Today marked an important day for Nesta.

It was not only her first date with Tomas Mandray, but her first date...ever.

During her years at Hogwarts, she mostly kept to herself, not really wanting to deal with anyone else...or having the patience to really. She preferred the company of books over others, so she didn’t exactly have friends...just her sisters.

At times she felt perfectly content to spend most of her time alone and independently.

But there were times where she felt...utterly alone. Like no one cared or noticed her.

She was shocked when Tomas approached her in the Slytherin common room the other week to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him. For once, someone actually noticed her…

Tomas was handsome and of good breeding. He came from a wealthy and highly-regarded family. His father worked in the Ministry of Magic...a connection that could potentially benefit Nesta in her future dream career, considering she wanted to work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Tomas was also intelligent and cunning...Overall, very respectable.

And the complete opposite of the long, dark-haired Gryffindor who had spent the past few years annoying her and teasing her.

Nesta shook her head. She shouldn’t be wasting time thinking about him.

Especially when she was currently trying to listen to Tomas rattle about his quidditch accomplishments from across the table.

From her walk with Tomas to Hogsmeade to their arrival at Madam Puddifoot’s, they shared light conversation. Even though they were in the same year and same house, they didn’t know each other too well.

...Yet Tomas seemed to only really care that she get to know him well. He hardly asked anything about her.

But she continued to listen. She figured he probably was just nervous.

As soon as she took her last sip of tea, Tomas abruptly grabbed hold of her hand. “Let’s get out of here.” Pulling her away from the table, he whisked her out of the tea shop.

When they stepped outside, Tomas wrapped his arm around her, letting his hand rest at her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Nesta’s body tensed as he did so, feeling slightly alarmed that such touching was happening so soon, so quickly. She wasn’t used to affection from family to begin with, let alone with someone she didn’t know terribly well.

He led her through the crowds, then turned down an alleyway that was between Madam Puddifoot’s and another shop. It was empty, but the hustle and bustle of the students could still be heard. Opening up a door at the back of Madam Puddifoots, Tomas pulled her inside, where there were shelves of various teas. Clearly, it was a storage room for the tea shop.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, Tomas yanked her close to him. “Nesta, you are...so beautiful,” he remarked huskily as he cupped her face and quickly tilted his head down to capture her lips in a fierce kiss.

Stunned, Nesta could not move away. This wasn’t how it happened in the books she read. Usually, the characters knew each other at least a bit before they kissed. She wasn’t ready for this. She hardly knew him.

Her heart was pounding as he leaned in for another kiss, moving one of his hands to her thigh against her leggings beneath the fabric of her skirt. When his other hand started playing with the waistband of her skirt, threatening to tug it down, the movement startled her enough that she no longer felt frozen. Regaining her senses, she firmly stepped away from him before he could kiss her once more. “No,” she stated forcefully.

Tomas gave her a peculiar look, but then a grin spread across his face. “Oh, you want to find a place that’s more comfortable? I know a spot…” he remarked as he reached to grab her hand.

But Nesta quickly stepped back once more so she was out of his reach. “No,” she reiterated emphatically as she crossed her arms. She wished she’d brought her wand with her so she could blast him away from her. “I don’t want to snog you, nor do I want to sleep with you, you disgusting pig.”

Tomas’ eyes narrowed at her and stared at her for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as he did so. Then, he suddenly started towards the door, roughly brushing against her shoulder as he passed. “Then what else are you fuckin’ mudbloods even good for?” he angrily remarked before leaving the room and rejoining the crowds of students.

Nesta watched him through the open door as he left the alleyway.

Fury raged through her at the words he just said, at him being an egotistical jerk, at herself for not recognizing him as the jerk he was and for foolishly believing that he could ever honestly like a girl like her. She’d been so terribly stupid and felt so...used.

But part of her believed the words he said of her. What else was she good for? She’d never been the friendliest or the kindest person. She kept to herself most of the time and came from a family of no special importance. She was a nobody...someone who wasn’t worth caring about.

And even though she strived to become someone more, someone worthy of admiration...there was always something that pulled her back from such delusions.

Before she could stop them, tears slowly started to fall from her eyes.

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

After Cassian sipped his last bit of butterbeer, he looked up at his friends with a miserable expression. “I think I’m going to head back to the castle. I’m not in the mood to walk around.”

“No, Cassian, we’ll head to Zonko’s,” Rhys said. “You always have fun looking around there.”

Cassian sighed. It was true. He always enjoyed seeing the many prankster items at Zonko’s...but he simply was not in the mood for it this time.

“Not today,” he replied. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Rhys and Az looked at him with concern as he got up from the table and walked out of the Three Broomsticks.

Upon stepping outside into the cool autumn air, he took a deep breath. He wished he could enjoy the day with his friends...but he just...couldn’t.

As he weaved his way through the many gleeful students, his mind wandered, causing him to lose focus on his surroundings. In his daze, he accidentally bumped into one student’s shoulder, nearly knocking her to the ground.

When he turned his head to look at the girl, he realized it was none other than Nesta.

...who happened to be alone.

“Nesta!” Cassian exclaimed, and she tilted her head up to look at him. “I’m so sorry!”

Her eyes widened upon seeing him, and Cassian could see they were red-rimmed...as if she had been crying.

“You should...watch where you’re going,” Nesta remarked weakly. There was no sharp bite to her reprimand.

It was so unlike her.

She turned to walk away, but Cassian was quick to reach out and grab her hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Nesta, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said without looking at him. Instead, she continued to stand still with her eyes focused on the ground. “May I go now?” she asked, feeling annoyed.

He felt she would’ve yanked her hand out of his grip by now, but she didn’t.

“Did Tomas hurt you?” he asked, his voice tinged with anger. “Do I need to hex him?”

“If you do, I’ll have to deduct points from Gryffindor.”

Cassian released a frustrated sigh. “If he hurt you, then that doesn’t matter to me. What happened?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Let go of my hand.”

Cassian immediately released her hand. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the castle,” she said as she began to walk away from him.

Cassian started to follow her, quickening his pace to catch up to her. He said nothing when he reached her side, instead choosing to simply match her stride.

With a quick glance to him beside her, she frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Going back to the castle,” he answered.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not. I was already on my way back to the castle when I bumped into you,” he stated. “So we might as well walk back together.”

Nesta said nothing in response to that. Instead, she pointed her head forward and continued along the path.

They walked in silence for a little while, but that was beginning to drive Cassian crazy. First of all, she didn’t seem herself. He thought for sure she would put up a fight to him walking with her. Something was off, and he needed her to return to her true self.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some goodies he had purchased at Honeydukes before he had gone to the Three Broomsticks. “Do you want a chocolate frog? They’re your favorite, right?”

Nesta crossed her arms across her chest as she walked. “And how would you know they’re my favorite?”

Cassian held out a chocolate frog as he shoved the other candies back into his pocket. “Last year, after a Defense Against the Dark Arts class where we faced boggarts, Elain brought chocolate frogs over to you at lunch to help you feel...less spooked.”

Nesta turned her head slightly to the side, and one of her eyebrows rose into an arch. “Have you been stalking me?”

Cassian shook his head. “That day, you just seemed so horrified by your boggart that I...just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Except you chose to do so from afar, instead of coming up to me yourself,” Nesta stated.

“As if you would have accepted any help from me,” Cassian insisted. “You probably would’ve insisted you were fine and then would announce you were deducting five points from Gryffindor for me thinking otherwise.”

After that comment, he could see the corners of her mouth threatening to twitch upwards, but she fought the smile. The near-smile made Cassian grin.

“It would have been ten points,” she admitted.

Cassian chuckled and stuck out his hand again, motioning for her to accept the chocolate frog.

Nesta eyed it warily. “Is this another one of your ways of trying to get girls to jump in a broom closet with you? Find them when they’re down, then offer them chocolate?”

“Do you think all I do everyday is try to convince girls to snog me?” he asked, offended that she thought of him this way.

“Considering how many times prefects find you snogging a girl in a broom closet, yes,” she answered firmly, still not taking the chocolate frog.

“So you’ve talked about me with the other prefects?” he said with a smirk.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We always have to go over how we’re deducting points and who the biggest culprits are.”

“You’ve still talked about me,” he said with a smirk.

“Only about what a pain in the ass you are.”

“And yet who’s the one offering you some chocolate and being insulted?”

“I’m not in the mood for chocolate. Especially if it was rejected by all the other girls you probably tried to charm today,” Nesta sneered as they approached the Hogwarts castle.

This time, Cassian rolled his eyes. “It really is no surprise that you’re patronus is a puma. Always ready to pounce on my ego.”

Nesta stopped and faced him, her arms still crossed against her chest. Her eyes softened. “You remember what my patronus is?” she asked quietly.

Cassian halted and simply nodded back at her. “It’s pretty impressive. Its form is more distinct than anyone else in our year.” He watched as her face turned a light pink.

After a brief moment of silence, Cassian spoke again. “So if you aren’t in the mood for chocolate, what are you in the mood for?”

“Lunch,” she said with a sigh as she glanced down at her watch. “But it looks like we’re past the lunch service time in the Great Hall.”

“What do you want for lunch?”

Nesta eyed him skeptically. “What does it matter? We’ve missed lunch.”

Cassian nearly sighed. She always had to make things difficult. “What do you wish you could have had for lunch?”

Nesta shrugged. “Pancakes.”

“Then let’s go get you pancakes,” Cassian said eagerly.

“What are you talking about? Lunch is over. Plus, Hogwarts hardly even makes pancakes.”

“Please just trust me for once,” he said as he began walking to a castle entryway at a slow pace. He paused at the door and turned his head back toward Nesta, waiting for her to follow him.

Nesta stared at him for a minute. Her eyes were curious and unsure. But eventually she put her arms down at her sides and her feet inched forward to follow after him.

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

“I’ve never been here before,” Nesta commented as she stared at the room around her, filled with house elves wandering about with pots and pans.

“I’m usually starving after Quidditch practice, so I was determined to find the kitchens so I could come get a snack,” Cassian said.

One house elf ambled up to Cassian, lifting up a large plate of pancakes drizzled with syrup as far as she could reach, which was up to Cassian’s waist.

Cassian bent over to take the plate from her hands. “Thank you, Ollie,” he said graciously, then grabbed some utensils off a nearby counter.

Beaming, Cassian looked over at Nesta. “Let’s go eat,” he announced before turning to leave the kitchens.

“We’re leaving?”

“Yes. This isn’t a proper place for us to eat.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” Cassian said, then turned back to her and found her looking quite annoyed and perplexed. “Just trust me again. I haven’t let you down yet,” he added as he waved the plate of pancakes around.

Again, she seemed hesitant, but resigned herself to follow him again.

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

The two of them headed to the staircase and kept walking further and further up. Nesta wondered if Cassian even had a set spot in mind to eat or if he was just on some hunt to find an area to sit. It wasn’t until they had reached the seventh floor that they got off the stairs and headed down a corridor.

Suddenly, Cassian stopped in front of a wall tapestry that depicted some wizard and trolls wearing ballet shoes. There weren’t any places to sit, nor were there any rooms nearby, causing Nesta to wonder...what the hell were they doing here.

Cassian turned to her and handed her the plate of pancakes and utensils. “Hold this for a minute.”

Nesta’s eyebrow rose out of curiosity as Cassian began to walk a few paces, then turned around to walk a few more paces, then turned around again to walk a bit more.

When she was about to question aloud what he was doing, a door suddenly appeared in the wall across from the tapestry.

What the…

Her eyes grew big when Cassian opened the door and gestured for her to enter before him. “After you.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, she slowly walked towards the door. Without stepping inside, she peeked her head into the room and found multiple shelves of books, a small table with two chairs, and a few couches. “What is this place?”

“It’s called the Room of Requirement. It only appears if someone has great need of it. And we are in great need of an area to sit and eat and enjoy ourselves.”

Carefully, Nesta stepped inside the room. There were so many shelves of books in the room, it looked like it was a library. She longed to see what books were there, but she knew her stomach was getting ready to growl any moment now. She needed to eat.

As she set the plate of pancakes down on the small table in the center of the room and sat down, Cassian took the seat across from her.

“So you just...picture the room you need as you walk back and forth in the corridor and then it will appear?” Nesta asked him.

“Basically,” Cassian answered, picking up the fork and digging into the pancakes.

Nesta picked up the other fork and took a stab into a fluffy flat cake. “Why did you want this type of room?”

Cassian swallowed the piece of food he was chewing, then opened his mouth to speak. “Well, you love libraries, don’t you? That’s where I always seem to find you outside of class.”

How was it that this boy before her seemed to know her so well? This boy that she always treated as if he was a pestering pixie?

Thinking back to the past few years, it was true that he occasionally found her at the Hogwarts library. He always had to come by her and caused some kind of commotion, either commenting on the book she was reading or the faces she was making as she was reading or some other inane topic. His talking with her always sent Madam Pince scurrying over to them to reprimand them and threaten to kick them out.

Nesta nodded in response to Cassian’s question as she took another bite of her pancake. “How did you did you discover this place?”

At her question, Cassian’s cheeks turned slightly pink and Nesta knew immediately that she had to know the answer to this question.

When Cassian remained silent, Nesta prodded him. “How?”

“Because I needed a broom closet,” he muttered.

Amusement flowed through her at his words. She smirked. “And why did you need a broom closet?” she asked. “Especially since there are so many others in the castle you could have used.”

“When I was in fifth year, there was this seventh-year girl from Ravenclaw who didn’t want to be caught by her friends snogging a fifth-year, and so I happened to talk to Ollie about it and she told me about this room.”

For some reason, the thought of Cassian bringing another girl here didn’t sit well with her.

But she pushed that hurt to the side and focused on the fact that she was justified in thinking that Cassian was always on the hunt for girls to snog in broom closets.

“Wow, an older woman,” she commented, managing to summon some enthusiasm. “Did you run out of new girls to snog from your own year? Excluding the Slytherins of course,” she was quick to note.

Cassian gave her a look that showed he wasn’t too pleased with her insinuation. “No.”

“Do you just prefer older women then?”

“That depends. When is your birthday?”

“November 1st,” she reluctantly answered in between chewing her pancake.

Cassian’s mouth spread into a wide grin as he stared intently at her. “Considering you’re about two months older than me, then yes, I’d say older women are my preference.”

Her cheeks suddenly felt very warm.

But was this just what Cassian did to all the girls? Make them feel like they were special, kiss them senseless, then drop them as if they were nothing? Was this just part of the usual charm he put on?

Suddenly no longer feeling hungry, Nesta put down her fork and got up to explore the books in the room.

Running her fingers along the spines of the books, she read through the titles. Spellbound After Midnight. Romancing the Womanizing Wizard. Charming the Enchantress.

They all appeared to be romance novels.

Her favorite.

None of the titles seemed familiar. When she was at home, she was only able to read muggle romance novels. The Hogwarts Library only contained a handful of non-school-related books, so to have shelves of unread romance novels written by witches and wizards before her was a complete thrill.

Pulling one book off the shelf, she made her way to the crimson couch on the other side of the room. Sitting down, she opened the book and began reading the first chapter.

A few pages in, she saw Cassian approach her out of the corner of her eye and proceed to plop down in the couch across from her.

When she turned the page, she could feel him staring at her.

A few more page turns later, she could still feel him staring at her.

Putting her book down in her lap, still opened to the page she was on, she looked up at him. “Don’t you want to read a book or something?” she questioned him in an irritated voice.

“I am perfectly content studying and memorizing the features of your face,” he answered.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Stop lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he said as he continued to stare at her. “You’re beautiful.”

The same words Tomas had said to her earlier that day.

Was Cassian just like him, only more patient? Was he willing to spend more time trying to flatter her to get her to sleep with him?

But the way Cassian said those words was different compared to the way Tomas said them. Tomas’ tone made it sound like he was praising a prized object he was thrilled to have in his possession, while Cassian sounded like he was truly admiring her.

Of course, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he treated all the other girls he’d been with.

And yet, she remained here in this room with him, instead of bursting out as soon as she was fed. The fact that he remembered her patronus, her love of chocolates and reading...perhaps that’s what made her stay. What made her want to find out if Cassian spoke truthfully about wanting to get to know her better.

“Well, I can’t read if you’re staring at me.”

“I apologize,” he said, finally shifting his gaze over to a nearby shelf.

Nesta looked over to the shelves too and saw one was filled with games and puzzles instead of books. Closing her book and placing it beside her on the couch cushion, she stood up. “Are you up for a wizard’s chess match?”

Cassian grinned a little too mischievously. “Absolutely. Prepare to be beaten, Archeron.”

“We’ll see about that.”

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

“I demand a rematch,” Cassian insisted after Nesta had just shouted “Checkmate!” and smiled proudly at him. He was too competitive for his own good.

But he was also obsessed with the focus Nesta had during the game. As she analyzed the board and the pieces throughout, he could envision the cogs within her brain clinking together as she determined what to do next. From the way her lips would move slightly to the left when she was deep in thought to the way she would occasionally squint her eyes when looking at the board, Cassian was mesmerized. And then when she would make her move, she did so with such confidence and assuredness, it was captivating.

“We’ve already played three times,” Nesta, sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the chess board from him and completely clueless to the effect she had on him, pointed out. “Can your ego simply not take being beaten by a girl?”

“No. I just want to learn how to play like you. How did you learn to play like that?”

“My father taught me how to play muggle chess when I was young,” Nesta revealed. The expression on Nesta’s face turned glum, causing Cassian to frown.

“What’s wrong? What did I say?” he immediately asked, nervous that he was ruining this moment with her.

Nesta shook her head. “It’s nothing. It’s just…” she trailed off.

“Go on,” Cassian encouraged her gently.

“My father...made some bad investments and ran his business into the ground a few years ago. He hasn’t been the same since.”

“How so?”

Nesta took a shaky breath. “It’s like he’s lost the will to live. He hasn’t even bothered trying to find another job. He doesn’t even want to take care of our family, nor does he really care to hear from us. Thankfully, we have Hogwarts to come to for most of the year…”

Cassian’s frown grew deeper. He was aware that their mother had passed away long before she came to Hogwarts. That meant they only had their father to provide for them…

“What does that mean? What happens during the summers?”

“Feyre managed to get lucky this past summer and got a job at a nearby grocery store thanks to a friend. Elain and I have had trouble getting jobs since we can only work during the summers, but sometimes the neighbors will pay for us to do chores for them around the house. We get by,” she shrugged.

Cassian stopped himself from letting his mouth drop open in shock. “What happens to your father when you’re here at Hogwarts?”

“Our neighbors help take care of him.”

Cassian shook his head. “Nesta, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If I had known…”

Nesta held up her hand and cut him off. “Stop it, Cassian. There is no need to beat yourself up for it.”

Cassian stared at her, sadness filling his heart. The whole summer, he had been obsessing over her and thinking of her nearly everyday. Meanwhile, she’d been trying to...survive.

“If it’s any consolation...my father walked out on me and my mother shortly after I was born. He went to be someone else’s husband and father. And then my mother passed away a few years later,” Cassian revealed quietly.

Nesta glanced up at him with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Cassian,” she whispered.

“I didn’t mean for you to feel sorry for me. I just wanted you to know that...you’re aren’t alone in having an...awful dad.”

“It’s nice to know there’s someone...who understands,” she said gently.

Cassian gave her a small smile. “It is,” he agreed. His breathing slowed as he stared into her eyes and Nesta stared back in silence. He wished he could lean forward and kiss her, but he still couldn’t tell just yet if she liked him or not.

Suddenly, Nesta broke their staring contest “Let’s play another game,” she said abruptly as she stood up to walk past him and look at the shelf of games. “How about Exploding Snap?”

“How about Truth or Dare?” Cassian suggested instead, twisting his body to look up at her from his spot on the ground and smirk at her. Maybe he could better figure out Nesta’s feelings during such a game.

Nesta scowled at him.

“Too scared to play?” he teased her.

She crossed her arms against her chest. “Fine. Truth or dare?”

Cassian thought for a moment. “Truth.” Nesta clasped her hands behind her back as she strolled about the room, looking again at all the books that surrounded them. “How many girls have you brought to this room, including me?”

“One.”

Nesta halted her steps to look back at Cassian sitting on the floor. She looked completely bewildered. “I said ‘including me.’”

“I know,” he said. “It’s only been you.”

“But the seventh-year Ravenclaw - ”

“I ended up not bringing her here after realizing I shouldn’t be with someone who’s ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Wow, so you actually have standards,” she remarked.

Choosing to let her comment slide, he resumed their game. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she instantly said.

There wasn’t much that could be done to embarrass someone when you’re playing in a secret room with no other people around. And he certainly didn’t want to leave the room just yet for risk of ruining this time with Nesta. Just the two of them had been...pleasant. “I dare you to give me a compliment.” He looked at her devilishly.

Nesta took a deep breath and squinted her eyes, while in deep thought.

“Any day now,” Cassian pressed her when she remained quiet for over a minute.

“My apologies. It’s hard to think of something,” she said casually as she sauntered around him.

Looking unimpressed, Cassian crossed his arms against his chest and waited.

And waited.

“I suppose…” Nesta began. “You’re not terrible at Quidditch.”

“That was barely a compliment,” Cassian complained. But the fact she had paid attention to him playing quidditch was...intriguing.

“But a compliment, nonetheless. Truth or dare?” she quickly questioned him.

Cassian pouted. “Truth,” he grunted.

“How many girls have you kissed since being back at school this year?”

Cassian perked up his head. “Why do you care about that?”

“I’m not required to tell you why I’m asking a question.”

Such an infuriating, stubborn girl, this one…

And yet, he knew that was partially why he liked her so much.

“Zero,” he answered emphatically.

Nesta stopped and whipped her head in his direction. “Really?”

Cassian nodded. “Really.”

“I’m shocked. We’ve been back for over a month now, and you haven’t kissed anyone?”

“Nope,” he said as he got up off the floor and started walking towards her.

It had actually been over four months since he’d kissed a girl.

Because there was only one girl he wanted to kiss...

“I figured you would’ve kissed at least one girl a week.”

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you thought,” he stated as he leaned against the bookshelf right beside her.

“Or you’re losing your charm,” she retorted, crossing her arms against herself as she tilted her head up at him.

Dramatically, Cassian put his hand over his heart. “You wound me,” he cried out.

Nesta rolled her eyes.

“But you do admit then that at some point, I was charming?” he eagerly replied.

“No, I misspoke. I think the girls have finally realized you never had charm to begin with.”

Cassian smirked. “You admitted I was charming.”

Nesta groaned. “Stop gloating. I pick ‘dare,’ by the way.”

“I dare you to tell me why you want know how many girls I’ve kissed and how many I’ve brought to this room.”

“That’s not a real dare! That’s a ‘truth’ disguised as a dare,” she yelled at him.

“You didn’t give me a true compliment!” Cassian shouted back.

“Ugh, fine.” Nesta sighed. “I’m just trying to see if…”

“If…?” Cassian encouraged her to go on.

“If I’m just...one of the many,” Nesta finished quietly.

Cassian’s gaze lost its cheeky amusement. “Nesta,” he said as he stood upright and grabbed her hands. “You are not just one of the many. I spent nearly every day of my summer thinking about you. I’ve never brought a girl to the kitchens before. There’s not even a girl I’ve probably talked to as much as you, with all the times we’ve teased each other over the years.”

Nesta stared up at him thoughtfully.

And then Cassian’s stomach chose that precise moment to grumble.

Effectively ruining the moment.

Nesta pulled her hands away from him and looked down at her watch. “I guess it’s already dinnertime…”

“I guess we should head off to eat with the other students in the Great Hall then…” Cassian said, hating himself for saying it, not wanting their time together to end. He’d much rather eat with her alone again.

“I guess we should,” she stated reluctantly.

“But I don’t really want to,” he admitted.

“I don’t...really want to either,” she agreed.

It felt like his stomach did somersaults when he heard her say those words. Beaming, he held out his hand in invitation for her to grab it again. “To the kitchens, then?”

And with a demure smile, she grasped it tightly, permitting him to lead the way. “To the kitchens.”

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

It was when they made their way down the many staircases that an idea came to Cassian for where he and Nesta could eat their dinner. It just required a few more items…

When they had arrived at the kitchens, he had instructed Ollie to prepare two dinner meals to-go and told Nesta to wait for him there while he retrieved a few things from his room.

As he rushed back to the kitchens, he only prayed that she had indeed stayed in the kitchens and wasn’t having seconds thoughts about eating dinner with him.

Finally - finally - he had gotten some sort of sign that maybe - just maybe - she liked him back.

Or could potentially like him.

Or at least liked him enough to spend more time with him.

...If she didn’t back out.

The thought pushed him to move his feet even faster, nearly tripping over himself as he passed all the chattering witches and wizards within the various portraits along the walls.

Out of breath and bearing a blanket and a cloak, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw Nesta still waiting for him, holding a basket that he bet contained the food prepared by the house-elves.

“You have the food?” he asked to confirm.

Nesta gave him a firm nod.

“Let’s go,” he stated, beginning to walk out of the kitchens.

“Is this another secret?” Nesta asked as she followed him.

“You bet,” Cassian exclaimed with a wink back at her.

This time, she didn’t look hesitant and unsure. Instead, she seemed...intrigued and eager.

More progress.

Once they went up the staircase and reached the ground level, Cassian leisurely strolled alongside Nesta and guided her outside through one of the castle’s doors

“We’re going outside?” Nesta wondered. “I don’t have my - ”

“I got you covered,” Cassian cut her off, knowing she was going to say she didn’t have her cloak or jacket. He halted his steps. “Hold this,” he instructed as he handed her the blanket. He then unfurled the cloak within his arms and hooked it around Nesta’s shoulders.

Seeing her wear his cloak made her look even more attractive to him.

Why did he do this to himself…

She seemed grateful for the gesture...until she tilted her head down to look closer at the cloak she was wearing and grimaced.

“What?”

“It has the silly Gryffindor emblem on it,” she noted before looking up at him. “But I suppose I will survive wearing it just for one night…” She finished with a soft smile.

Cassian chuckled as he took the blanket out of her arms. “I sure hope so.”

As they resumed their walk, a gentle, cool breeze blew past them. With his free hand, Cassian grabbed Nesta’s free one and eagerly led her down the slope toward the Great Lake. He beamed when she tightened her grasp on his hand.

The sun was just beginning to set over the lake waters. Once they were near the edge of the lake, Cassian let go of her hand to lay down the blanket. Nesta promptly set down the basket of food and sat down upon the blanket. Cassian followed suit.

Upon opening the basket, they found a delectable meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas, treacle tart for dessert and bottles of pumpkin juice.

As they dug into their meal, they watched the sun descend over the glistening waters.

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta commented softly.

Cassian inclined his head toward hers. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispered.

Nesta groaned. “You really need some new material.”

“Well everything about you is impossible to properly compliment,” he said in his smooth-talking voice. “You are simply indescribable.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and shook her head back and forth as she swallowed some potatoes. “Good grief, you are so...ridiculous!”

“I think what you meant to say was ‘Cassian, you are so ridiculously handsome, and I can’t imagine spending this beautiful night with anyone else.’”

“‘Can’t imagine spending the beautiful night with anyone else?’” she exclaimed incredulously. “I certainly can! If I was here with Hugh Grisman from Hufflepuff, he’d be too frightened to talk.”

Despite being thwarted of being given a compliment from Nesta once more, Cassian’s eyes still contained a hint of amusement.

“Or, imagine if I was here with Lawrence Milton from Ravenclaw. He would be going on and on about all the science behind the sun,” Nesta joked as she turned her gaze upward.

“Imagine if you were here with Walton Azley from Gryffindor,” Cassian piped in. “He’d probably try to convince you to go walking through the water with him in search of some obscure magical creature.”

Nesta chuckled, and it was a sound that Cassian wished he could hear over and over again. He started laughing with her.

“If I was with Artemis Braxton, he’d probably charm me with his singing voice and sweep me in arms to -”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Cassian sternly interjected and stopped laughing. While Artemis Braxton was a famous singer who would likely never be on a date with Nesta, the thought of someone else wooing her and wrapping his arms around her sent jealousy running through him.

From the way Nesta smirked at him, he could tell she was well aware how that image made him feel.

“You have no right to get in a huff about this,” she said rather calmly. “Especially since you’ve probably been here with - ”

“I haven’t been on a picnic with any other girl,” Cassian was quick to reply. “It’s only been you,” he stated earnestly.

The smug grin vanished from her face. Instead, she looked pensively down at her food as she ate.

Cassian let out a slow breath he didn’t realize he was holding and resumed eating his peas, while Nesta continued to pick at her roast beef. The sun’s last remaining rays faded from the sky, and for a short while, they sat in silence and simply listened to the whistling of the wind.

But then, Cassian heard Nesta suddenly put her utensils down on the now empty plate in her lap. In the darkness, she focused her gaze down at the plate.

“Earlier today, Tomas...he just wanted me for sex,” she whispered. “And then when I rejected him, he said he didn’t know what fuckin’ mudbloods were even good for then.”

Rage flowed through Cassian’s body. He was livid, absolutely livid. His hands, which gripped his fork and his plate, began to tremble from his anger. Tossing the plate to the side, he hurriedly stood up off the ground.

He was going to pummel that piece of…

“Lumos,” he somehow heard Nesta say over the sound of his raging heartbeat. “Where are you going?” she asked angrily as she held out her lit wand so she could see him.

“I’m going to murder Mandray,” he stated seriously.

“No, you aren’t. Sit back down,” she ordered sternly. “Now.”

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way!” Cassian cried out, trying to make her understand. But when Nesta’s glare did not disappear, he begrudgingly sat back down on the blanket.

“You don’t need to be causing anymore trouble,” she said as she grabbed hold of his hand and intertwined their fingers. “If you become a murderer, I don’t want to have to see that handsome face of yours hidden behind the bars of Azkaban.”

Cassian suddenly sat up straight. “Did you just willingly compliment me?”

Nesta nodded. “Perhaps you should document this moment since it’s such a rare occurrence and probably won’t happen ever again.”

If he wasn’t so enraged, Cassian would’ve chuckled at her comment. “Can I at least hit him with the bludger multiple times during our next match against Slytherin?” he wondered aloud.

“Sure.”

He stared at her in the glow of her wand for a moment. “You’re really going to let him get away with this?”

“Of course not. In time, I will retaliate,” she remarked with a delighted sneer.

“Good,” he said with a conniving smile. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“You’ve already helped me enough today,” she said seriously and squeezed his hand. Nesta dropped her lit wand onto the picnic blanket, then began shifting her body so she was right beside him, her thigh grazing his. She rested her head on his shoulder. Cassian released her hand and instantly wrapped it around Nesta’s back to pull her closer. He inhaled her lavender scent and tried to calm his heartbeat that was racing from the excitement of being so close to her.

“Thank you, Cassian,” she said softly as she tilted her head up, her nose brushing briefly against his cheek. “For today,” she added.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

Those eyes...they were like magnets. Always pulling him in and making him never want to remove his gaze.

And those luscious lips...they called to him. He wanted to kiss her so badly…

Slowly inching his face toward hers, Cassian took a deep breath, and he could see Nesta doing the same.

But suddenly, her eyes widened in shock and she shot up to her feet. “Oh no,” she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, feeling alarmed and standing up with her.

She glanced down at her watch. “I have to go. I completely forgot about my shift tonight to patrol some of the corridors.”

Hurriedly, she took the cloak off her body and handed it off to Cassian.

But she couldn’t leave. Not yet...not when they had come so far.

“Just forget about it. Don’t go,” he pleaded as he tossed his cloak to the ground and attempted to grab hold of Nesta’s wrist.

“I have to leave,” she said firmly, dodging his grasp as she picked up her wand. “Goodnight,” she said before rushing off to the castle door.

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

Despite Nesta’s abrupt departure, Cassian was in a state of elation for a while.

He had finally been on a date with Nesta. And now he couldn’t wait to ask her to go out on a second one.

Their time together was so...simple and quaint. But they were alone, and he had felt so relaxed around her. It was just...different from when he’d spent time with other girls. He didn’t have to feel like he was pretending to be someone else. She was someone who could relate to him and just...understand. Someone he could be vulnerable with.

Plus, he finally got to hear her admit he was handsome.

Then there was the fact they they held hands multiple times and she let him wrap his arm around her...signs that she didn’t truly despise his company. That she felt something for him in return.

For the evening after their date and the next couple of days, it was like he was in a daze. Rhys and Az wondered what was wrong with him. He kept humming to himself as he walked through the corridors of the castle, and he could hardly pay attention to what was going on around him. Every time he turned a corner, he kept hoping that Nesta would be there, happening to walk in his direction.

Alas, he wasn’t so lucky.

At meal times, he’d stretch out his neck to take a peek over at the Slytherin table, hoping he’d find her among the crowd and throw a wink her way. Maybe even offer to whisk her off to the kitchens again.

But he never saw her.

But when their Potions class on Tuesday was approaching, Cassian was ecstatic at the thought of finally seeing Nesta and asking her out again...with hopefully more success this time around. He even arrived to class fifteen minutes earlier with the hope that he could talk to her before class. And he never got to class early.

But she never showed up for class...which seemed so unlike her. He’d never known her to miss class.

So that afternoon, he decided to attempt to seek her out. He went to the library for a while, pretending to study as he periodically looked around for Nesta’s head bent over a book as he so often saw in the past.

But there was no sign of her.

On Wednesday afternoon, he hung around outside the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory for a while, thinking he could at some point catch her coming in or out. He ended up receiving a lot of dirty and suspicious looks from various Slytherins...none of them from the one he was looking for. When he saw one seventh-year Slytherin female leaving the dormitory, he blatantly asked her if Nesta was inside. The female frowned at him - seemingly perturbed that a Gryffindor was talking to her - and reluctantly informed him that she hadn’t seen her since that morning.

At least someone had seen her and he knew she was alive.

On Thursday, he was thrilled once more about going to Potions class, again getting to the class early, because surely Nesta wouldn’t miss two classes…

But once again, she never showed up.

And so Cassian’s euphoria began to dampen.

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

The night Nesta patrolled the corridors after her picnic with Cassian, she found it...terribly difficult to keep her mind off of him.

They had almost kissed and...she could not believe herself. If she didn’t remember her patrol shift, she probably would’ve let him.

The thought flustered her.

This was Cassian she was talking about. Cassian!

A boy who took every chance to annoy her, to tease her, to argue with her, to make sarcastic comments and innuendos to her constantly for the past several years.

It was ridiculous.

Her and him together...preposterous!

It simply didn’t make sense. He cared more about quidditch than studying for his N.E.W.T. exams. He didn’t come from a high social standing family that could help advance her career, which is what she had always pictured for herself.

She may have read tons of romance novels with grand gestures and declarations of love, but...she never pictured such things happening to her. Others had always considered her unkind, snobby, and unlikable. It’s what made it so hard for her to make friends.

So she never thought she’d ever be a part of a swoon-worthy scenario where a boy got her pancakes because she was hungry and took her to a room that he had transformed into one of her favorite places and then take her on a picnic by the lake.

Nesta groaned. She had admitted to herself that Cassian’s actions were swoon-worthy.

What had gotten into her? How could she let her barriers come down? She even started telling him about her issues with her father. She hardly even discussed such things with her sisters. And then he even opened up to her about his parents. She had never known that his father walked out on him…

No. She had to stop thinking about this. She needed to forget it. He had his date with her, he got what he wanted. Now, he would probably never want to hang out with her ever again.

To her both her displeasure and her pleasure, a visual of him and his silly smirking face formed in her mind as soon as she awoke Sunday morning.

And then when she went to brush her hair and put it in a braid crown, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have Cassian’s hands run through her hair.

Ugh. Why would she imagine such things?

Things that are not meant to be and should never happen.

She’d need to keep her distance from him for a little while. Give herself space to allow herself to forget about him.

(Even though part of her was also dying to see him again.)

So for the next few days, she spent most of her time in the Room of Requirement, which she figured no one else would be able to enter if it was in use. If she hung out in the library, she knew there was a chance she could run into him. And she certainly couldn’t eat her meals in the Great Hall, or she would see him. Luckily, Cassian had shown her how to get to the kitchens…

But unfortunately in her determination to not see him, she kept being reminded of him because she was going to the places he had introduced her to.

She still attended her classes, but when Tuesday rolled around, she just knew she couldn’t face him yet. She had to get herself together and build up her walls around her once more before she saw him again. So...for once in her life, she skipped class.

Then skipped for the second time in her life when it was time for Potions class on Thursday.

Because. She. Still. Could. Not. Get. Him. Out. Of. Her. Head.

She wanted to scream.

Every day, she thought of him and wished he was with her.

But then she would get frazzled and wonder why she felt this way.

Was she completely delusional? Was she sick? What was making her feel this way? Why couldn’t she just forget him already?

This was how she envisioned what being under the spell of a love potion would feel like.

A love potion...

Could he have possibly slipped her a love potion at some point?

That had to be it. There was just no way she would feel this way on her own accord.

But now she was fuming...over the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about him on top of the possibility that he had slipped her a love potion.

Now she knew she needed to see him and get to the bottom of this madness once and for all.

She glanced down at her watch. It was roughly an hour before dinner. He could be anywhere...perhaps in his dormitory or at quidditch practice.

Quidditch practice.

Hurriedly, she grabbed her satchel to search for her notebook that contained schedules of classes, quidditch, clubs, and more for prefect purposes. Opening her notebook, she flipped through the pages to the one she was looking for.

Quidditch Practice - Thursdays

4:00pm - Ravenclaw

5:00pm - Gryffindor

Without even a second thought, she departed the Room of Requirement and headed straight to the quidditch pitch.

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

When she arrived, she indeed found the Gryffindor team huddled together on the ground, finishing up their practice.

With her arms crossed, she walked onto the field and leaned back against the barricade that separated the stands from the field. Her eyes found Cassian’s tall form in the distance immediately. His silky, dark hair was pulled back into a bun and his athletic wear made his muscles look more pronounced.

Nesta scolded herself and reminded herself to remain focused. She needed to confront Cassian and find out if he gave her a love potion. She just needed to wait a little bit, since she certainly didn’t want to make a scene in front of everyone else.

The Gryffindor team huddle broke apart, and when Cassian stepped away, his eyes instantly found hers and his face broke out in the widest grin she’d ever seen on anyone.

No, the smile did not make her weak in the knees.

She refused to let it.

...but failed.

Her whole plan had been to stomp over to him and make her frustrations known. Instead, he was now gleefully jogging toward her with his broom in his hand while the rest of the team dispersed, heading to the changing rooms.

Her body refused to move. Too frozen from that damn smile and the way he was currently looking at her.

“Nes,” he said when he approached. “Where have you been? Did something happen?” His voice was filled with concern, and his free hand neared her as if he was about to grab her hand.

She certainly could not allow that to happen. Lifting up her wand in her right hand, she jabbed its tip into the center of his chest to prevent him from going any further. “Stop it right there,” she angrily ordered. “And don’t ever call me Nes.”

Upon hearing her tone, Cassian frowned and outstretched his empty hand in confusion. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Nesta groaned and she jabbed the tip of her wand into his chest again. “I am not your sweetheart.”

“Ok, put your wand down,” Cassian requested, his voice sounding like he was trying really hard to control his temper. “And Nesta, please tell me what’s wrong? I’ve been worried about you. You missed class, and you never miss class -”

“No,” Nesta interrupted him, disregarding his request to put her wand down and instead tapping his chest with it. “No, you don’t get to say these things and act like you know me so well!”

“But I do know you,” Cassian said with traces of frustration and impatience. “At least a little! And I want to get to know you better!”

“Well, giving someone a love potion is a lousy way of showing that!” Nesta shouted back, and a look of complete and utter bewilderment covered Cassian’s face.

“What? You think I gave you a love potion?!” Cassian exclaimed. “I’ve done no such thing.”

“Don’t lie to me! Why else would I be feeling this way and constantly thinking about -” Nesta began to say, but abruptly stopped herself from saying anything more.

“Thinking about what? Me?” he questioned her, infuriated. “Is it so ridiculous to think you might actually like me that you assumed I must have used a love potion on you?”

Nesta slowly pulled her wand away from him and brought it down to her side as she stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze.

Cassian looked down at her peevishly. “I thought you knew me enough to know I would never do such a thing. I want to date you and be with you, but only if you truly want to be with me too. I loved spending time with you on Saturday, and it seemed like you enjoyed it too. But maybe you’re only accusing me of using a potion because you’re ashamed at the thought of liking me?”

Nesta kept staring at the ground beneath her feet, taking slow and steady breaths as she listened to Cassian’s hurt voice.

She gave him no reply.

“No denial, then?” he asked in a pained voice. “Well, I suppose I should at least be flattered that you think I’m smart enough to concoct a love potion that lasts for several days, when most only seem to last for less than twenty-four hours with one dose. Goodnight, Nesta,” he said gruffly before turning around and hurriedly marching off to the quidditch changing rooms.

Nesta lifted her head and watched him walk away.

This all wasn’t some game to him. She should’ve known that just based on all that he did for her on Saturday.

The anguish in his voice just now further proved it.

And hearing that anguish made her feel like she was crumbling on the inside.

Of course he didn’t use a stupid love potion. She had just been searching for any excuse at all to explain these feelings she had for him. Feelings of wanting to be with him and spend time with him and...kiss him.

She wasn’t ashamed to have these feelings. Sure, it was a shock to have them for him. But she was mostly...afraid.

Afraid of being hurt and betrayed because she had these feelings.

Why did she have to be so destructive?

When she saw Cassian enter the changing rooms, Nesta felt compelled to follow after him. She couldn’t leave things like that.

It was time for her to be honest both with him and herself. No more coming up with excuses.

With her robes flowing around her, she ran across the pitch to the changing rooms.

As she rushed toward them, many of the other Gryffindor players were walking out and gave her quizzical looks. But she had no time to care...not that she ever would have cared anyway.

When she burst into the room, out of breath, she was relieved to find Cassian was the only one in there. He stood before a locker, angrily removing his leg and arm guards.

“Cassian,” Nesta called out softly, causing Cassian to briefly glance up at her.

“Coming to get in one more insult because claiming I used a love potion wasn’t enough?” he questioned her bitterly.

“No,” she emphatically replied. “I… What’s wrong with your hand?” she suddenly asked when she noticed his knuckles were completely swelled up.

Cassian just shrugged. “Just...hit a locker,” he muttered before aggressively removing the glove off of his other hand.

Did he...punch a locker out of anger over her stupid words?

“Sit down and let me see it,” Nesta demanded as she gently pushed Cassian down on the bench in front of the locker and quickly grabbed hold of his wrist before he could protest. She sat next to him and lifted his hand to inspect his knuckles, then took out her wand and directed it at the injury.

“Glaciotious,” Nesta said and an icy coolness from her wand settled over the swollen area. “Are there bandages somewhere in here?”

Cassian shook his head. Nesta then took a quick glance around the room before glancing down at her own clothes. Letting go of Cassian’s hand, she untied the tie from around her neck and threw it on the bench beside her. “Linteumos,” Nesta stated as she directed her wand at it.

Before their eyes, her green and silver tie had transfigured into a long green and silver bandage. Picking it up, she brought it toward Cassian and gestured for him to stick out his hand once more.

He reluctantly did so, and Nesta placed her wand down on the bench and went about carefully wrapping the bandage around his knuckles.

“Nesta, what are you doing?” Cassian asked exasperatedly.

“Taking care of you,” she replied.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” she answered ardently as her fingertips grazed his skin, the touch sending goosebumps up her arm. “And that scares me,” she added in a whisper.

His eyebrows rose up in arches at her words. “Why does that scare you?”

She tied a knot in the bandage and gently set his arm back at his side. “Because I could get hurt.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he stared at her intently.

“To care for someone and let them in and grow to love them...there’s the chance that one day they’ll just leave you or betray you or forget about you altogether.”

Just like my father, she nearly added.

But from the way Cassian looked at her sympathetically, she sensed that he knew what she almost said. He swung one of his legs over onto the other side of the bench so he could fully face her. Taking one of her hands within his uninjured one, he rubbed circles with his thumb into the back of it.

“And I know I’m not easy to...care about either. I have a tendency to push people away...so it’s just been easier to...isolate myself,” she added.

“Nesta, I can’t promise right now that we’ll be together forever, and neither can you, but I know that what I feel for you is different from what I’ve felt for any other girl,” Cassian explained fervently. “And I don’t want to waste any time in our final year here if we want to give this a shot. You just need to decide if you’re willing to take the risk.”

Nesta closed her eyes as he spoke, debating and thinking over what she should do.

Mere minutes ago, she nearly became distraught over seeing Cassian walk away from her. It wasn’t something she wanted to experience again. If they were together, there was the risk they would breakup and he would leave her. But if she decided right now not to go out with him again, he’d probably leave her alone completely...

The past few days since their unofficial date, she had missed him. Despite every effort to try to forget about him, she missed him too much. Perhaps, that was the real reason she felt the desire to go storming out onto the quidditch pitch today. She needed to see him.

But then she had cut him down with her insinuation of him using a love potion on her. It was how she shielded herself. Strike others down before they could hurt her.

However, this time, her strike against someone else also hurt her. She was already in too deep, so she might as well...try this out.

But she did so, she needed to apologize.

She opened her eyes and stared back at him. “I’m sorry I accused you of giving me a love potion.”

An amused smile took over Cassian’s face. “I will only accept your apology if you tell me what you meant when you said you were feeling a certain way and constantly thinking about something?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious how I feel at this point?”

“I want to hear you say it. You’ve already heard me tell you a few times how I feel about you. It’s time to return the favor.”

“Fine,” she said dramatically and squeezed his hand. “Despite you being a persistent and arrogant and demanding dolt, I like you and I like spending time with you.”

Cassian gloated and squeezed her hand in return. “And what have you been constantly thinking about?”

Nesta sighed again. “You and how much I want to kiss that stupid grin off of your face.”

Cassian’s eyes grew big and his mouth dropped open.

Good. Just the reaction she was looking for. She smugly smiled at him as she leaned closer to him.

“So does this mean you’ll take the risk and go out with me?” Cassian questioned her, his breath tickling her nose.

Nesta scrunched up her nose upon smelling a foul stench. He still hadn’t cleaned up after practice. “That depends if you plan on showering anytime soon.”

Cassian sighed as she leaned away from him. “I’ll go shower right now. Meet me outside the Great Hall in twenty minutes?”

Nesta nodded in agreement.

“Great,” he said dreamily as he squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it. “I expect a real answer to my question then.”

“Wait,” she said as she grabbed his injured hand. “Plasticus,” she stated when she pointed her wand at his bandage, charming it to turn into plastic. “For your shower,” she explained.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Nesta simply gave him a smile before getting up and heading out of the changing rooms, while he made his way to the shower stall.

On her way to the castle, an idea popped into Nesta’s mind.

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

Following his shower in the quidditch changing rooms, Cassian raced to the Great Hall, eager to hear Nesta finally say that she would go out with him.

...and possibly finally kiss her.

Having heard her say she had been thinking about kissing the grin off of his face had been such a surprise. He never thought he’d ever hear her admit that. Especially when he would have just been satisfied with her saying that she had been constantly thinking of him.

Finally, they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

When the Great Hall entrance was finally in sight, he didn’t see Nesta anywhere.

Was she avoiding him again? Did she freak out again? He had just seen her a mere twenty minutes ago. How could her feelings change so quickly?

Suddenly, a door he passed on his left opened and a hand reached out, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking him into the room…

Which turned out to be a tiny dimly-lit space filled with various broomsticks, mops and buckets.

And none other than Nesta Archeron.

Nesta closed the door behind them and gently pushed him so his back was up against the wall. She wrapped her hands around his neck, bringing his face down to hers to capture his lips in a fervent kiss. Once over the shock of this unexpected event, Cassian placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to him, needing to be as close to her as he possibly could.

The taste of her was better than he had envisioned and he couldn’t get enough. When she would hesitantly pull away the slightest bit, he dove right back into the kiss, gently tugging at her lips with his teeth to pull her back in.

At some point, he did remember however that he’d been expecting her to answer his question. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away from hers, and the two of them stood with their foreheads resting against each other’s. Her heavy breathing matched his own.

“I knew you always wanted to snog me in a broom closet,” he remarked cheekily.

“I needed to see what all the fuss was about,” she replied as she moved her hands up into his unbound hair and ran her fingers through it over and over again. “But if another prefect catches me, you’re dead,” she added rather seriously.

“I’m dead? You’re the one who dragged me in here!”

“But you’re the one who keeps kissing me.”

“Because you started it,” he noted before giving her a quick peck on the lips. “And you’re too intoxicating.”

Her eyes glimmered like the stars as she blushed.

“So Nesta Archeron, will you go out with me?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she breathed.

Cassian beamed as he planted her with a passionate kiss.

“Are you ready to go to the Great Hall?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Not yet,” she said before leaning forward to kiss him again.

“Maybe we can eat in the kitchens later instead,” he mumbled against her lips.

“I like that plan,” she whispered before wrapping her arms tighter around his neck and kissing him ravenously.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it! I apologize for any errors...I was sick when I edited this! Cassian just seems like he would totally be like a Hogwarts-era Sirius Black to me XD anyone else agree? :) Right now, this is just a oneshot. But do I have ideas for other Nessian dates/issues while at Hogwarts? Yes. Will I ever write them? I have no idea. I kinda want take a break, kinda want to go back to writing my post-ACOFAS fic, haha. So we'll see!

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #harry potter #hogwarts #hogwarts au #nessian au #nessian at hogwarts!

113 notes · View notes