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wisteria-blooms · 2 years ago

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long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (11/15)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

A/N: I know apologies mean nothing so I'll have to make it up with some Bill Weasley smut (as an one-shot slightly related to the story, because it's otherwise clunky and doesn't fit in). I feel like I'll be more energized in the coming weeks with the nice beach weather & a less hectic work schedule. Thank you for your support - it means so much! I do think about this story & your comments all the time. TAG LIST MOVED TO THE BOTTOM. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged & if I missed you!

CHAPTER 11: You've only imagined what it was like to share a room with Bill. What if some unfortunate circumstances led to its fruition? 4.3k words

CHAPTER 11: WHITE HOUSES, RED DISTRICTS

The Mediterranean sun was a far cry from the English one – if it could be called that at all. Rather than a depressing globe of grey, the sun here danced warmly on your exposed skin. The scent of the sea drifted sweetly in the air around you and caressed your senses. You still clung onto Bill’s arms when you were back on solid ground, the amount of wine you had with him now manifesting into bothersome symptoms.

Just metres in front of you, the summer estate stood in all its bright glory. The white stone was the foundation of its colouring. Three floors tall and endless rooms wide, the house sprawled across the lush green land. Four grand pillars were erected in the front leading to the entrance. There were two three of continuous balconies up front, but most of them were built in the back to overlook the water.

You could tell Bill was amazed by the size of the summer estate with the way his eyes followed the high ceilings and archways as you entered the building.

“You won’t be joining us tonight, correct?” Lucius asked, looking intently at Bill.

“I’m afraid not,” Bill said apologetically. “I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“Shame.” Lucius grinned for a split second before deflecting back to his usual face. “Dobby, take William to his room,” Lucius commanded with a grunt.

“Yes, sir.” Dobby was quick to obey, walking to you and Bill with your luggage floating behind him. “Follow me, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

Lucius’s eye twitched.

“Dobby.” You gave the house elf a polite nudge. “We aren’t married,” you corrected softly, in case Lucius would give him hell after. You leaned down and held his arms back to prevent him from hurting himself.

“Sorry, Ms. Malfoy,” Dobby wept, his eyes watery and his arms twitching in your hold. “Dobby assumed the reason Ms. Malfoy moved out was because she married Mr. Weasley. Dobby was not informed otherwise.”

“No, not yet,” Bill responded, giving Dobby a reassuring pat on the shoulders.

Bill’s words sent a quick rush of heat to your cheeks. Of course, you had agreed on maintaining appearances being within sight of your family and all, but did he have to go and say that? You’d been doing a decent job at playing it cool, but Bill wasn’t helping at all, especially not when he talked about marriage. You were knocked breathless thinking about what it’d be like to be Bill’s wife. Was that idea so far-fetched? A rush of reality and sadness quickly followed that high when you realized that yes, it was a pipedream, and it probably wouldn’t be you.

When Dobby (and you) finally calmed down, the three of you ambled to the guest quarters in the west wing where Bill’s room would be.

“Dobby hopes the room is up to your expectations, Mr. Weasley,” Dobby said as he let you and Bill’s suitcases down. “Please let Dobby know if there is anything you need.” The house elf bowed and apparated away.

“Ready?” you asked.

“Not sure I am,” Bill admitted sheepishly.

You did the honour of opening the door for him. Immediately, you could see that Bill’s room boasted a view of the water. Natural light saturated every crevice of the expanse room. A king bed was poised to the side, furnished with fresh sheets and multiple feathered pillows. There was a sectional sofa between the bed and the balcony. Facing the bed was a large oak desk with a fresh vase of flowers and a swivel chair. To its right was a walk-in closet and a washroom, the door ajar to showcase the amenities. You walked in with Bill to admire the space. The first place you went was to the balcony. You opened the door and motioned for Bill to follow.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” you asked breathlessly, admiring the sparkling sea. You almost forgot how beautiful France was and every August was a reminder of it.

“It sure beats any view in England,” he agreed.

“What will you be working on tonight?” you asked, shutting the door and following Bill back into the room.

“Some reports that’ll be due when we’re back home.”

“Speaking of work,” you started. “You didn’t have any issues taking a sudden vacation, did you?”

Bill pulled out some rolled-up parchment and quills. “Not at all. Working a desk job offers much more flexibility than working as a curse-breaker. I don’t miss that part of it, being on-call all hours of the day.” He paused. “Why?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I’m just grateful you could make it without any trouble.” You shuffled past Bill to the front door. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to settle in.”

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“My room,” you responded. “Though it’s strange, Dobby usually insists on helping me carry my luggage.”

“I can help,” Bill offered, letting go of his belongings and turning towards you.

You shook your head at the door. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Bill smiled. “See you.”

You took one last look at him, taking in his tousled hair, loosened collar, and warm smile, and wished he was coming with you.

You dragged your luggage to the other side of the estate. To your luck, it seemed that your parents and Draco and Astoria were reposing so the hallway was empty. Like second-nature, you found your room and pushed the door open immediately. You were taken aback at what you saw. Was this a joke? Your room was a far-cry from what it was in the previous years. Firstly, it was stripped of what Bill’s room had: fresh linen, sheets, pillows, plants, flowers. Surely, no one expected you to sleep on a mattress without any bedding. Figuring it was an honest mistake, you’d ask Dobby about this after.

You perused your wardrobe, sifting through evening dresses, before deciding on a white slip dress with a cowl neck. You hung it on the rack and set it aside. Then, feeling fatigued from travel, you crawled on the mattress, splaying over it. You dozed off immediately, the sweet fantasies of marrying Bill overweighing the any discomfort of the bed.

After two hours, you woke up. Outside the window, the sun was just beginning to lower, signifying you had about thirty minutes to get ready for the dinner at Uncle Theodore’s. You combed through your hair, put on a fresh face, and slipped your dress on. You threw on a pair of white heels and fasted the thin strip around your ankles then dashed off to the drawing room.

“You look lovely,” Astoria said from her seated position as you walked into the room.

“Thank you,” you responded as you looked at her deep green dress that brought out her eyes. “You do, too.”

“Is your boyfriend coming with us?” she asked earnestly.

“No,” a convincing sigh left your lips at the same time, “he’s very busy with work.”

She frowned. “That’s a shame.”

You nodded. “Where’s everyone else?” you asked. Your parents were usually the first to arrive.

Draco turned to you. “You got mother and father in an argument,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They’re just about done cooling down.”

“What about?” you asked, picking at one of your nails. Draco was used to you as the instigator of most of their arguments and always rubbed the fact in your face.

“She was insisting Dobby prepare your room,” he explained. “But father said it would make no difference given you,” a look of disgust crossed his face, “lived with Weasley already.”

“Why are they discussing this and why with you within earshot?” you asked. You didn’t need Draco involved in these topics. “It feels like an invasion of my privacy.”

“I’m just saying that father won in the end,” Draco scoffed. “It was one less room they had to get ready, anyway.”

Oh.

So, that was the reason your room was barer than Draco’s bum was the day he was born.

“Whatever,” you said, pretending not to care. “It doesn’t matter to me. It changes nothing.”

“It should,” Draco retorted, then he quickly added, “Given your relationship is nothing more than a farce.”

“Always nice to know the idea of me being in love is so ridiculous.”

“It would never work out even if it were real,” he continued. “You and Weasley. I give it another two months.”

“Oh?” You quirked an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Because no man would want to slug themselves through the misery that is dating you,” he said bitingly, his lips curving up into a smile. You wanted to hit him back with the same insult, but then you saw Astoria out of the corner of the eye and refrained. You actually liked her.

“Prove it,” you said instead.

“I will,” he responded resolutely.

You scoffed, trying to brush off Draco’s comment. But in reality, it did sting. You didn’t need more doubts beyond your own about you and Bill’s relationship. If you didn’t believe it would ever happen, then who would?

As terrible as you thought your father was, your uncle Theodore Malfoy was in a league of his own. Being the eldest son of Abraxas Malfoy meant he inherited many of Abraxas’s traits: an egotistical attitude coupled with the need to brandish all the materialistic goods he owned. As you got older, you realized that every conversation always looped back to Uncle Theodore and his wealth somehow. Uncle Theodore had married a beautiful, pure-blooded French woman named Emilie and settled in France to raise his two children, Claude and Genevieve. They were both a few years older than you and very unpleasant people. You and Draco could never get along with them, no matter how hard your parents pushed you to.

Lucius’s younger sister, your aunt Rosamund, was also present tonight, strolling in with her husband and two daughters.

You sat on the terrace with Draco and Astoria before dinner was to begin. Uncle Theodore’s estate was obviously grander than yours and he did a good job at showing it off. You swirled around your Chardonnay as you reclined on the outdoor sofa, soaking up the evening sun. Draco sneered at the crowds. You were used to being treated as the runt of the family, but now you had Draco to suffer the same treatment. It was actually nice; you didn’t feel as alone as you usually did.

To your left, Genevieve was spitting undecipherable French to a man. Her soft blonde curls bounced over her shoulders as she motioned at one of the butlers.

A waiter walked around and offered an appetizer which you graciously took.

“I didn’t know they served your kind here,” you shot at Draco. You waved the snail in his face. “Small and slimy.”

“Don’t get that on me,” he warned, swatting your hand away. This caused you to swing it closer to him. He shuffled abruptly, bumping into Astoria and spilling some of his wine on the floor.

“Scared, Draco-kins?” you taunted as you shook it once more before eating it. Draco turned away, his face red. He had an irrational fear of snails and you would exploit it any chance you could. You reckoned it started when he was forced to eat it one dinner at the ripe age of five. Your mother chided him, saying it was rude to refuse what Uncle Theodore was serving, so he shoved it down his throat and looked green the rest of the night.

Genevieve’s voice got louder and shriller. She was now talking to her mother, who was trying to calm her down.

You nudged Draco. “What are they saying?” you asked.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows pensively before leaning in.

“She’s saying,” he started with a serious look, “something went wrong genetically and you ended up an abomination compared to me.”

“That is not what they’re saying!” you retorted in a whisper.

“You asked me to translate.” He jeered back at you.

You rolled your eyes. “In hopes you’d do it accurately.” You focussed on Genevieve pacing about, her white heels clacking on the floor. “It sounds like something about a wedding.”

Before you could say anything, a butler announced that it was time to head inside for the dinner.

The tension at the dinner table and the tail end of things was palpable. Genevieve and Claude looked proper prissy with their judgemental stares and frozen faces. Not invited to talk, you and Draco sat in silence. Uncle Theodore was still bragging about whatever estate he purchased this year, how he signed his most successful business deal to date, and his lunch last week with the French Minister of Magic. Lucius, over the years, learned not to talk about his own accomplishments because Uncle Theodore would one-up it immediately.

“Anyway,” Uncle Theodore said after recounting his influence on French politics. He set his dessert fork down and reached for his coffee instead. “I’m pleased your trip coincided with Genevieve’s wedding.”

“It’s our pleasure to attend,” Narcissa added.

“What wedding?” you murmured to Draco.

“Mother wrote you. Did you not see it?” he responded.

You grimaced. “No.” It must’ve been in that pile you ripped up.

“I think you’ll find suitable attire here in France if you are in town,” Uncle Theodore continued, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. “Us French prefer refined modesty to the English expression of liberty.”

You looked around the room to find that you were the only one in the room with exposed shoulders and a lower neckline.

Narcissa gave you a look that screamed: ‘you-should’ve-worn-a-shawl’.

“Anyway, Lucius, I’d like to take you around this modest summer house. You’ll be the first to see the renovations I was talking about. In the coming week, I’d like to take you and Narcissa to Monaco to see my new estate, and spend time on my yacht for a better view of the country. Of course, I can have our chauffeur take us to Belgium if time allows.”

You and Draco simultaneously rolled your eyes. This didn’t go unnoticed by Genevieve, who kept a hard glance on you two. Lucius and Theodore left the room, your mother retreated with his wife, and Astoria was talking to your other cousins, leaving Genevieve, Claude, Draco, and you as the last people in the room.

“(Y/N),” Genevieve called, separating from her brother to walk to you. “I heard from your father that you have a boyfriend.”

“Yes,” you affirmed. “I do.”

She glanced at the strap of your dress and sneered. “How would he feel if he saw you in that dress? While he’s at home and you’re cozying up to the men on the Promenade des Anglais tonight?”

“What?” Draco whispered in confusion.

“Forget it,” you said, ignoring Genevieve’s smirk. You pulled Draco away and led him outside to where Astoria was. “She’s not worth it.”

Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, you decided to retire for the evening when the five of you arrived home. But first, you had to ransack Bill’s room for bedding, maybe swipe a couple pillows or so. You’d ask Dobby, but if Lucius caught on and interrogated him, you were done for. When you arrived at Bill’s door, you gave it three steady knocks.

In a few seconds, the door opened. Bill had changed into looser-fitting slacks and a thin button-up. You remarked ink pots, quills, and rolls of parchment on his desk, and a single quill tucked behind his ear. It was clear he’d been working the entire night.

“Hi,” he greeted. “How was dinner?”

“Superb,” you responded with a bright mile. “Once again, made to feel inferior to my extended family and shamed for my choice of dress, but otherwise excellent.”

“Is there something wrong with what you wore?” Bill asked seriously. “It looks nice on you, I was about to say.”

“I didn’t think so,” you sighed. “But apparently, I look like I belong on the Promenade de Anglais.”

“What’s that?”

You rolled your eyes. “A red-light district near Nice.”

He scoffed. “Who said that?”

“My cousin.”

Bill’s face softened. “Well, being (Y/N), you must’ve had some excellent comeback.”

“Not really,” you murmured. “I’m their guest. It’s not as easy.” You cut the conversation short, not wanting Genevieve to be the focus tonight. You looked apologetically at Bill and changed the topic, saying, “My parents assumed we’d share a room, so mine’s not properly prepared. Would you mind if I grabbed some things?”

“Should’ve known. Your father is always a step ahead.” Bill guided you to the closet and opened the door. “Grab what you need.”

“Thanks,” you responded, fingers dancing on the spare bedding trying to decide which one to take. “I promise I won’t be much more of a bother.”

“You’re never a bother,” Bill affirmed. A smile flitted over his lips. He tapped the long parchment he was working on. “Rather, a welcome distraction from this pile of rubbish.”

You gave a demure smile back. He didn’t mean it that way, did he? He was just being nice to you.

“There’s a lot to do here if you need a break,” you said with a nod. “I’ll show the private beach tomorrow.”

“That’d be nice, yeah,” Bill responded, leaning against the wall. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, goodnight, Bill.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

He walked you out and closed the door behind you.

Bedding and pillows in stow, you took the rehearsed steps to your room. You felt a wave of disappointment, mainly with yourself. You had two weeks of spare time with Bill and you couldn’t muster the courage to instigate anything. Seriously, what were you expecting? For Bill to get on his knees and beg you to spend the night with him? There was no chance – he was too mature and refined to do something so crude.

“Ahem.”

You jolted. You swerved around to face your brother, Draco. He was holding a lamp looking mighty pleased with himself.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I like to amuse myself with night-time strolls. You never know what kind of rats you’ll catch after dinner.”

You harshly patted the pillows. “These aren’t fluffed to my liking. Have you seen Dobby?”

“Uh-huh,” he mocked as he stepped closer. “And not because you’re going to your own room to sleep?”

“Why ever would I do that?” you retorted, coming closer to face Draco. You were close enough in proximity to spit on each other. “There’s no bedding or anything, is there?”

He pointed at the incriminating evidence. “Which is why you’re bringing these to your room.”

You laughed and deflected, “Do you ever give it up? You’re obsessed with me.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t go into your room if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“There’s irreparable flooding, dear sister. Dobby is taking a look. I’m afraid your room is out of service for the time being. But,” he stopped and pulled something from behind him, “I did save your book before the waters could drench it.”

You nearly screamed when he handed you Madame Millicent’s Guide for the Docile Witch: Pleasing the—

“Thank you for the warning,” you grumbled, snatching the book from him. It took every ounce of strength not to slap the smug look off him. “I wasn’t going to sleep there anyway.”

“Shame. And all the guest rooms except William’s. They’ve somehow all flooded, too.”

“Somehow?” you hissed. “I don’t believe you.”

“I can’t change what’s true.”

“You’ll get into a lot of trouble for damaging property.”

“Who says I did it?” Draco retorted, baring teeth.

“How does our summer house flood?” you asked, voice pitching up slightly. You were stressed and you knew it. “It’s enchanted with every protective spell. It’s near impossible.”

“Who knows? Maybe Uncle Theodore cursed it at dinner. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to bed.” He gave you a wave and pointed to the book. “Happy night reading.”

You fought the urge to knock Draco out with Madame Millicent’s hard, leather book. When he disappeared down the hall, you ran back to Bill’s door. You knocked hesitantly, knowing he was in the throes of work. You weren’t sure if the rush you heard in your ears was from your seething anger or the apparent flooding that was happening.

When the door opened, you expected him to be just like you’d left him, quill tucked behind his ear and hair mussed from his fingers. But he wasn’t. In the couple of minutes that transpired, he’d decided to take a shower. So, you came face-to-face with a bare and very toned chest. The vision knocked you breathless; you hadn’t expected Bill to be so muscular. He was holding a pure white towel around his waist with one hand, the other hand slicking back his hair. The veins running down his long arms were more prominent from the heat in the room. Drops of water fell tantalizingly from the nape of his neck, gliding down and filling the divots of his scars on his chest, then streaking downwards even more…

It was no shock that your will crumbled and your eyes trailed down to where there lay toned abs, moving as Bill breathed in and out. You were like a kid at Honeydukes, ogling the displays and not knowing where to start—keep staring at his abdomen, or revert to his chest, or focus on those bulging biceps instead—

“Yes?” Bill asked.

“Uh, uhm, flooding,” you squeaked.

“I’m sorry,” Bill said, leaning in closer. His towel jostled slightly, and you had to force your eyes away. “What?”

“My room is flooded,” you mumbled. “Apparently.”

“Maybe I can help,” Bill said. His hold on his towel loosened again as he shuffled back. He clenched it tighter to keep it upright. “Hold on.” He shut the door and opened it a few moments later. He had changed into a white t-shirt and shorts. “Where’s your room?”

You led Bill down the long stretch of hallway to an ajar door.

When you peeked in, it was worse than you imagined. The carpet was soaked and the water was almost the height of the mattress. Bill gave it a few goes, trying to break the curse, but it didn't seem easily doable. “This will take some time,” he admitted. “But it looks contained and as you said, Dobby will be on it soon enough, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the other rooms are—?”

“All like this.”

“I’m surprised to see that mine was spared,” he joked. He shut the door to your room. “I was certain I’d be the first to go.”

You paled as you followed Bill back to his room. Where would you sleep tonight if all the habitable rooms were out of commission?

“Would you mind if I slept on the couch?” you asked at the door.

“I couldn’t let you,” Bill said quickly, walking over to the bed. “It’s your house. Take the bed.”

“No, Bill,” you said. “I dragged you into a mess again and I feel awful for it.” You took the pillows you grabbed earlier and threw them on the couch. Then, you retrieved the duvet cover and was about to lay it down before Bill intercepted.

“No—!” Bill protested, reaching over your head to grab the covers from behind you.

You felt warmness creeping into your cheeks as Bill unknowingly pulled your body closer to his. His larger hands were holding yours in such a delicate manner, fighting for the sheets. You could’ve fainted there and then at his exquisite touch and show of chivalry. You leaned back to look at him and noted that your head barely met his chest. And now that you knew the sheer amount of muscle that lay underneath that shirt, you felt very, very, hot. Your heartrate was erratic now as Bill sustained his position. His head dipped down so that his chin was resting on your head.

“Let me,” he said. You could hear the rumbling in his chest as he spoke, the vibrations making you shudder.

“Uh, I—” you stammered. “I’ll take the sectional regardless. I’m used to sleeping in uncomfortable places.”

“Suit yourself,” Bill renounced. Then he shook his head and added, “It doesn’t seem I can ever win an argument against you.”

“And that’s the way it should be,” you teased, fluffing the pillows. You slipped the book under one of them. “Have a good rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

You attempted to get comfortable on the sofa, adjusting your position on the pillow and wiggling under the sheets. You laid on your left side to face the balcony. Bill hadn’t turned off the night lamp yet, so his reflection was visible as day in the glass window of the door. You watched him flush against the headboard as he stroked back his hair, eyes closed as he tilted his head upward. The way he clenched his teeth accentuated his jawline and the veins running down his neck which tensed as he exhaled before inhaling again. He began to move his hands downward, looping them under his shirt. You watched with bated breath as if your life depended on it. And it did.

He pulled the hem of his shirt upwards to remove it. It seemed like an eternity, his fingers pulling inch by inch, flaunting every bit of his abdominal muscles up to his ribs that were punctuated by his elongated position. You flushed under the covers as the neckline of his shirt brushed past the strands of hair on his forehead, sweeping it back. Merlin, did he look good with his hair pushed back.

You wanted to stare at Bill forever and memorize every inch of skin and muscle presented to you.

When he turned his body over to flip the switch on the nightstand, you quickly shut your eyes and hoped he hadn’t caught you staring.

One thing you did catch was the light murmuring of “good night” before he turned over again.

You groaned silently, trying to dispel the heat in your body. You clawed at the couch. You were in white houses, but your heart was blaring red lights.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

<<CHAPTER DIRECTORY

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#bill weasley x you #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x y/n

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tobesobri · 4 years ago

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Traditions | 17.3k

a/n: it's been a while since I uploaded writing and for some reason I decided to sign up for this challenge and by some miracle actually managed to write something for it 🤯anyways, this is for the Valentine's Day Challenge by @1dffchallenges and it's honestly just a bit of fun, enemies to lovers little bit of angst and some smut! so i hope you enjoy! I'd always love to know your thoughts!! (also pls excuse any errors, I wrote this in a week with little editing lol)

prompt: doube date

dialogue: “So let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date for a Valentine’s Day Party?”

Pink and red were speckled throughout the entire office, whether it was a bouquet of chocolate roses, a banner of hearts, or stuffed bears residing next to bowls full of heart-shaped candies. Every employee’s section of the office had been filled to the brim with decorations as well. Pink and red ribbon taped carefully around the edges of their desktop computer, little store-bought balloons, also heart-shaped, grouped together and tied to desk chairs.

And Y/N, dressed in her typical all black outfit, rolled her eyes as she paced through the office toward the one section in the back that was immune to all things heart-shaped, pink, or stuffed.

She sat down at her desk with a loud sigh, her purse hitting the floor in its usual spot just before she slipped out of her jacket and draped it haphazardly between her back and the chair. It’d be wrinkled by the end of the day, but she didn’t care all that much, nor did she put much thought into the stains on her purse from leaving it on the floor. All she concerned herself with, after settling in, was getting straight to work… which was put on hiatus when she came face-to-face with both a pink and heart-shaped sticky note plastered onto the center of her computer screen.

Groaning, she ripped it off and moved to turn her computer on before she bothered to read whatever was written on the note. She considered three potential suspects while she pulled her keyboard down onto her desk and logged in. There was Kayla, who worked front reception and was one of the main culprits of all the Valentine’s decorations. A strong contender. It could’ve also been Ines or Carmen, her closest work friends whom Y/N knew both owned a pad of pink, heart-shaped sticky notes.

However, when she finally let her eyes fall to the note as her computer loaded up, the handwriting didn’t match any of the women she knew, and she was quite positive that none of them would have written was was sprawled out in black ink either.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I will fill your office with teddy bears and balloons, if you don’t send me your half of the proposal by two.

Harry.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin under her desk. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. Sure, she was nearly done with her portion of the work and would be able to send it to him before then, but now that he’d pestered her about it, he’d be lucky if she even bothered to send it to him at all.

She didn’t doubt the promise, i.e. threat, he made on the note, but being surrounded by teddy bears and balloons would be worth making Harry’s life just a tad miserable.

After opening all the apps she’d need to get her work done, namely Photoshop and Illustrator, she connected her drawing tablet and set up the rest of her work station for the day, both on screen and off.

Harry had worked at the company for about two years longer than her and she’d started off as an intern while she was still in college and, after graduating, was hired as a permanent graphic designer. They had never really gotten along ever since Harry—jokingly—asked her to get him a coffee once… or twice. Unfortunately for her, though, they ended up working well together and their boss had stuck them both on the same projects ever since. Especially after the month-long project last spring that had been their most successful one to date.

While she came up with the design parts of client projects, Harry handled the more technical side of things and they’d never really argued much over each other’s work even though they clashed constantly at a more personal level.

“I see your feeling festive.” Just as she’d gotten into the groove of her typical morning and had forgotten all about Harry’s stupid note, his voice interrupted her entire thought process. So when she swiveled around to find him leaning into her little office space, it was hardly a surprise when she glared at him, even though he feigned offense at her bitterness.

“You got my note, I presume.” He let himself into her space anyway, holding a mug of steaming coffee she was sure he’d just made in the workroom, and leaned up against the opposite side of her desk that housed a much larger, digital drawing tablet for when she needed to do more intricate design pieces.

She just swiveled back around to face her computer again and went back to work as if he was no longer there. Pretending to ignore his existence proved to be quite difficult when the very particular woodsy, vanilla scents of his cologne met her nostrils and filled her entire office. Not to mention, the sight of what he’d been wearing singed the backs of her eyelids so that she still saw him every time she blinked. It was as if her brain refused to let her forget what he looked like in his white button-up, sleeves rolled to the crooks of his elbows, all tucked into his fitted black trousers that tended to get the imaginations going of all the women in the building.

Not her though, of course. She was better than that. Obviously.

He cleared his throat, still very much present in her space and still very much giving her a migraine. “So will it be ready by two?”

“Well, I planned to send it to you before lunch.” She tweaked the spacing between letters of a potential logo for the millionth time. “But now… I think I might need the rest of the day.”

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was shifting his weight impatiently and running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was… displeased. “I told you I’m leaving early tomorrow and I need it no later than two.”

She cocked her head to the side, still staring at her computer screen and not giving him an ounce of satisfaction. “Did you tell me that?” She teased, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth when she heard him groan behind her. “I must’ve forgotten.” Shrugging, she went back to her work.

“Unlike you,” he snapped, “some of us actually have a love life and I’d appreciate you not fucking up mine.”

She froze then, only for a split second, when his words sank in. Two thoughts raced through her head. The first a string of curse words because of his assumption that she didn’t have a love life. But the more prominent and worrisome part of his statement was that he did have one. And that he was leaving early tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—so he could get ready for a date.

Throwing both her prickly exterior and heartbreaking smirk up again, she turned to face him. “I’ve known you for three years now and if anyone has the potential to fuck up your love life, it’s you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and her gaze fell to the hand that seemed to wrap a bit tighter around his Bugs Bunny mug. His knuckles whitened and she met his heated stare again, pleased with herself for getting him riled up before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

“So,” she continued before he get get a word of retaliation out, and sat back against her chair, crossing her legs confidently as she folded her hands in her lap. “Who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into going on a date with you this time?”

Harry had a terrible track record. The longest relationship he’d been in lasted for two months, and that was well before she’d known him. Everything else he had was just a one or two night thing and nothing more. Sure, it was all more than she had, but she preferred it that way. Harry seemed to resent the fact that he couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life.

“You don’t know her.”

Her smile widened. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Ooh, that just might be your second longest relationship, Styles.”

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

His jab didn’t have an affect on her however, and he knew it wouldn’t because it never did. He knew she didn’t give a damn about relationships, or at least that’s what she claimed anyway. He couldn’t think of many twenty-four year old women who actually wanted to be alone. He actually couldn’t think of a mid-twenties anyone who wanted that.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She said nonchalantly, which irked him even more than he already was, and then swiveled away from him one last time, picking up her drawing pen and getting back to work.

“What’s your issue with relationships?” He went on and she knew he was headed right down a path intended to hurt her feelings just as much as she had his. So, she tensed slightly and braced for impact. “Is it a commitment thing? Or can you just not find anyone to put up with you for longer than five minutes?”

She let his words sink their teeth in and then smiled to herself. “Hm. Seeing as you’ve been in my office now for,” she checked the time at the top right-hand corner of her screen, “eight minutes, maybe we should date.” She lifted a brow, awaiting his next response.

It felt a bit like a cat-and-mouse chase bickering with Harry and since she was usually the cat, it brought her way too much pleasure fighting with him.

He scoffed. “Like I’d lower my standards for you.”

That one hurt, she had to admit. Not out loud or to Harry, but it still stung because it was true. He’d have to drop his standards to the floor to even consider dating her and she knew it.

“Maybe,” she began, still half focused on her work, and ignored his comment all together, “some of us like being alone.”

“Nobody likes that.” He responded quickly and she heard a shift of his weight again and then his voice once more a few moments later. “It’s nice to be by yourself sometimes, yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t want someone to come home to at the end of the day.” He crossed one leg over the other as he gripped the edge of her desk for support and just when she thought he was done, he kept going, “Someone you can vent to about your annoying co-worker.”

She glanced at him through the little portable mirror hanging above her desk—mostly used to make sure she looked decent before meeting with clients or, sometimes, Harry—and saw the tight smile on his lips. Almost as if that’s what he wanted, like he was talking about himself and not her.

She’d slowed her progress down while he’d talked until she was no longer working at all. She no longer swiped her pen across the pad or had any idea what she was even doing when she focused solely on his words. Because, once again, whether he was talking about himself or about her, he was right.

“Yeah well,” she quickly hid herself back behind her wall and made her hands function properly again. “Some of us also don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.”

She imagined him smirking at that one because, buried deep within her words was a compliment. That he was handsome enough to actually have anyone he wanted.

Instead, when she glanced at the mirror again and found him, there was the complete opposite of a smirk on his face, and as he stared down into his mug, clearly lost in thought, she wondered what the tightness in his jaw and the frown pulling on his lips meant.

She sighed and stole his attention away from his coffee. “I’ll have it to you before lunch. You can go now, unless you’d like to argue some more and slow me down by another…” she glanced at her clock again, adding up all the time he’d been standing in her office, “fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, she listened to the drag of his footsteps as he finally left her office space. And although she was glad to be rid of his distraction, the room felt so much bigger and so much colder and emptier without him in it. Shivering, she slipped back into her jacket and spent the next few hours doing nothing but staring straight ahead at her screen as she made final adjustments to her designs.

Any other conversations with Harry were had over email as he worked in his own respective office, messaging her with every little concern he had in order to get his work done efficiently so that he wasn’t stressing to finish it tomorrow before he had to leave. Even though Y/N considered not responding to him a few times, just to spite him and slow him down for her own amusement, she found herself feeling guilty after leaving him hanging a couple times. Sure, she hated Valentine’s Day and everything surrounding it, but she’d almost hate even more the idea of both her and Harry being miserable tomorrow, so she inevitably gave in and cooperated with him. She’d probably regret it when he came back on Thursday spreading around the office all the gory details of his date, but at least he wouldn’t also be in a shitty mood. Her days were both boring and slow whenever Harry wasn’t having a good day. And although she’d blame it all on selfish reasons, it did also make her sad to see him frowning around the office and sulking when all she wanted to do was bicker with him and make him smile again, even just a little bit. But it was easier leaving him to his own devices than risk him finding out she cared about him enough to not wish sadness upon him.

She couldn’t say the same for him. Harry probably relished in the days she came into the office in a sour mood. He probably celebrated and threw a party whenever she was upset, and, even so, it didn’t change how she felt about him.

The sun had long set and most of the office was gone by the time she finally called it quits and began packing up her things and giving her computer a rest for the night. There were still quiet murmurs from other workaholic employees, which comforting her knowing she wasn’t completely alone in the building, since the last time she’d done that, it took everything in her not to have a panic attack all the way to her car.

Even though her boss told her countless times not to stay past five o’clock, as he told every other female employee that worked for him that he didn’t wish to see attacked after sunset in the city. Of course, when she was the only one who didn’t listen to him, he hired more guards and one of them rounded the corner into her office space, ready to escort her all the way down to her car.

“Figured you were still here.” He leaned against the walls of her cubicle and watched as she startled, twisting to meet his eyes for a moment before she settled and returned to slipping her belongings into her purse.

“I don’t need you to escort me.” Zipping her purse, she rose from her chair, checking one last time across her desk to make sure she’d grabbed everything she needed to take home with her before turning to him as he still lingered in the opening of her little office.

William had been hired a couple months ago, and was only a year older than her, but even so he was more than a foot taller than her and his biceps were about as big as her head. While the entire office drooled over him, she tended to keep her eyes and her thoughts to herself.

“You say that every night you stay late. Just let me do my job and shut up about it.” He smirked at her and when her eyes met his again, sharply, glaring at him, she groaned and whirled past him toward the elevators. He followed swiftly behind, knowing she’d close the doors on him if he didn’t keep close enough pace with her, mostly because she’d done it before.

As he took his spot beside her and she pressed the button for the parking garage at the basement of the building, a familiar voice rang out through the office.

“Wait!” As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough with William’s presence, his stupidly large arm held the elevator doors open as Harry slipped inside a moment later.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry said exclusively to William as he caught his breath and stood wedged in the middle between the guard and Y/N, who was inching closer and closer into her corner to get away from Harry.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” Harry asked, his attention solely on William again while the elevator took off down through the levels of their building. Not fast enough for Y/N, of course.

William sighed, crossing his arms and trying to resist smiling. “Me and my girlfriend take turns surprising each other every year. And it’s her turn this year… so I guess I have plans, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

Y/N whirled her head to glare up at the side of Harry’s face. “Speak for yourself.” She warned.

Harry just ignored her though. “What did you guys do last year?”

Again, William stifled a grin. “I had been saving up for a while and took us both to Paris.”

“Shit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose and Y/N rolled her eyes away from him, watching the LED screen above the elevator doors as they neared the bottom levels of the building. She knew Harry and William had become friends, mostly because Harry was annoying and befriended everyone. Except her, of course. She heard his stupid voice again and wished she could just transport herself directly into the front seat of her car and be done with the both of them. “And now she has to do better than Paris.”

Y/N glanced around Harry just in time to see William smirk and she should have known what was about to come out of his mouth before it did. “Well, I don’t consider much better than her mouth ar—“

Y/N cut him off. “Ew! Are you serious?”

Both men eyed her curiously just as the elevator came to a stop and, with a ding, the doors opened. She flew toward them quickly.

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

Again, she cut him off, turning once she was out on solid ground. “I’ll be fine, besides trying to rid my mind of that image you just burned into it.” She turned on her heel and headed off toward her car.

William made a move toward her and Harry grabbed his arm, “I’ll walk her. Forgot she’s a bit of a prude.” They shared an amused look and Harry jogged out onto the concrete and asphalt until he reached her side.

“I heard that, you know… and I know for a fact your car is not parked in this direction.” She seethed and he just smiled to himself, happier than ever that she was in the mood to bicker with him, because he wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet, where he’d have to wait till tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to see her again. And she wasn’t always the most talkative person on Valentine’s Day, either.

“Why are you the only female in our building not foaming at the mouth over him?” He asked instead, referring to William.

He heard her scoff. “Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have to be interested… or want to hear about his girlfriend sucking his—“

“Cock?” Harry finished for her and within a second she spun around to face him, forcing him to stop in his tracks just inches from her now. His smirk only grew when he saw just how quickly he’d gotten her all flustered.

And then, as they started each other down, the hardness in her face softened and she drew out a breath, forcing his eyes to fall to her lips and his smirk to fall from his mouth. He thought back to last spring, when there were numerous late nights with her just like this one. When he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked and he blinked a couple times before he lifted his eyes.

“Like what?” He furrowed his brows, trying to track down all the resentment he had for her but he couldn’t find it anywhere anymore. He couldn’t summon it and say something that would save his ass from being caught looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

Like he wanted to taste her and feel her against him, and hear what she sounded like when he tugged at her hair for more.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head, silencing the chaos going on in his brain. And then she turned, continuing the walk to her car with or without him, but, when she heard the echoing click of his shoes against the asphalt once more, she knew she wasn’t rid of him yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride back to my car, will you?” He easily stepped back into place beside her like nothing had happened.

She didn’t say anything for much longer than he was comfortable with. And then, finally, they reached her car and she sighed. “Get in before I change my mind.”

As she went for the driver’s side, he took quick steps to the opposite side, watching her over the top of her little Honda as she unlocked her door, and then, after clicking the button, his door as well. They both slipped in at the same time and while she fastened her seatbelt and settled in for her drive home, he sat perched with his backpack in his lap, knowing he’d be out of her car within only a couple minutes.

He still glanced around at his surroundings as she backed out of her parking space. “Should’ve guessed your car would be as neat as your desk.”

She didn’t say anything as she drove in the opposite direction of the exit toward the section of the garage Harry always parked in. It was closer to the elevators because he always came in before her and snagged a prime spot. She preferred an extra few minutes of sleep over walking an extra fifty steps.

And he started up again when she continued to not talk to him. “Most artists I know of are super messy.”

“I’m not an artist.” She gritted out through her teeth as she came to a stop once she spotted the rear-end of Harry’s BMW. Although she knew it well enough to distinguish it from the other black BMWs in the garage, it also helped that Harry had an old, faded license plate cover filled with a collage of cute pictures of puppies. He’d said it won him bonus points with women, but she also knew his screensaver at work was a picture of puppies as well, and no women he was interested in ever saw that.

He peeled his eyes off his car and looked over at her. “I know you can draw, too.”

She paused, gripping her steering wheel. She did enjoy both art and design and she knew Harry knew the difference between the two. She just didn’t know why he always insisted on bugging her about it.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make me an artist.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him just in time to find him shrugging a shoulder like he was agreeing to disagree. Even if she couldn’t draw, he’d still consider her an artist because the things she managed to design always blew his mind and if that wasn’t art…

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to get out, or do I have to drag you?”

He grinned, and it was almost as if her eyes refused to see anything else but his dimples and the bright whites of his teeth, and the birthmark to the side of his mouth…

“I’m going.” He assured, and yet he still hadn’t moved an inch. “Even though I’d love to see you try to drag me.” With her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, he chuckled and unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack, withdrawing his keys as he finally swung her door open.

Once he was out, he gripped the top of the door and leaned back in to find her staring straight ahead. “Drive carefully, yeah? Would be quite tragic for your bitter ass to die on Valentine’s Day.”

She reached over and, despite having to brush her knuckles along the side of his thigh, grabbed the handle of the passenger door and yanked. His body remained in her way, however, and he was unfortunately a lot stronger than her.

Then she finally looked up at him, and those thoughts he had earlier surfaced again as much as he’d tried to bury them. This time though, he didn’t fight it as he glanced at her lips once more, then back at her eyes, which had widened slightly just before the dimples reappeared in his cheeks. “And I guess I would miss bickering with you every day.”

With that, he was gone and she retreated back to her seat as he shut the door for her. She had no idea what to think about what had just happened. Why he’d looked at her like that again. What that look even meant.

By the time she reached the freeway, she’d convinced herself she was just seeing things. Harry wasn’t looking at her in any other way he had before when he was intent on pestering her. But, as she took in the scent of him still lingering in the cabin, she allowed a small part of her to hope she was wrong.

Her eyes fell on the man down the hall from her door as she slipped her key into the lock, her brows furrowing as she watched him. It wasn’t unusual for their paths to cross, as they tended to get home around the same time, but it was quite odd to see him sitting on the floor outside his apartment, his head in his hands.

They’d said hi to each other a couple times in the mailroom, but she definitely didn’t know him well enough to go up and ask what his issue was or try to fix it for him. And after it was confirmed that he hadn’t, in fact, lost his keys, as they sat beside him on the floor along with his phone, she figured it best to leave him be.

Turning her key, she pulled her gaze from him and disappeared from the hallway.

The second she was inside her apartment, she felt all the weight lift right off her shoulders, especially when her cat came racing up, screaming at her from the floor while also coaxing her toward the kitchen to fill the food bowl. Whatever was going on with her neighbor still very much on her mind, she tried to focus instead on relaxing and getting both her and the screaming Pretzel some dinner.

She tried to remember his name as she heated up leftover pasta. She knew it started with an A, but her brain was coming up short. So, while Pretzel crunched on his food in his corner of the kitchen, she tried her hardest to remember.

And it was no question why she cared so much. Her neighbor was someone she was actually interested in, and she had been since she first saw him. Of course, she was never foolish enough to think he was into her, but she still let herself fantasize. He was tall, nearly black curly hair atop his head always in a state of disarray, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen hidden behind his glasses. And, if she was being honest with herself, he was just a darker-haired version of Harry. Maybe that’s why she liked him.

The beeping of her microwave tore her thoughts from the dangerous path they’d been headed down. Harry’s voice rang in her head a moment later.

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

She’d needed to hear him say that, because sometimes her thoughts got carried away when it came to Harry and sometimes she did let herself be a fool who hoped. But after he’d said that one damning phrase, it was enough for her to stop. She didn’t meet a single one of his standards, inside or out.

Still, she tried her hardest not to go back out into the hall and make sure her neighbor was alright. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to and it wasn’t like she was doing anything important. Even if she didn’t have a dumb crush on him, as she did Harry, she still didn’t enjoy seeing him in the state he’d been in.

Before she could work up the nerve, however, a knock sounded through her quiet apartment.

She held her breath as she opened her door, really hoping it wasn’t the boy from across the hall, since she was still blanking on his name, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else knocking on her door this late into the evening.

So when she inevitably found him there, looking down at her through his annoyingly long lashes as she took in the horrible state he was in—red, inflamed eyes and hair that needed to see a brush rather than his hand—she completely lost her breath instead.

“Uh, sorry, I… saw you come in and I know we don’t talk and this is a weird thing for me to ask but…” He ran said hand through said messy hair and she found her breath again while looking up at him like she’d do whatever he’d asked just so he’d stop frowning.

He sighed, glancing down the hall toward his apartment and then met her curious and somewhat concerned gaze. “Can I come in?”

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

“Well, um, I was hoping you could help me with something and I’d rather not have the entire floor know about it.”

She was beyond confused now, but still, she stepped aside and let him pass, assuming that if he was actually a murderer he would have done her in a lot sooner than this. He had plenty of other opportunities. Plus, something in his face just… made her want to trust him.

She closed the door and turned to him, watching as his eyes scanned her kitchen and where her food still sat before he twisted around, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” And after clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you, um… what do you need help with?”

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple budge in his throat. “I don’t imagine you’ll like me very much after I ask but… I need a date.”

“What?” Again, she nearly flew out of her skin.

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, gauging her reactions and very obviously on the verge of seeing himself out and pretending this never happened. Instead, he stuffed away his pride and went on. “My ex… she, uh… well we broke up a few months ago and I saw her the other day and she’s seeing someone and we were talking and I… told her I was seeing someone too and so she invited me to go on this stupid double date with her… but the thing is… I’m not actually seeing anyone and I just told her that so she’d be jealous but she didn’t seem jealous at all and I don’t exactly have many friends to ask for help and I saw you and…” He rambled, but she managed to understand his predicament just fine.

“A double date? With your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. She’s… she does weird shit but… I still want her back.”

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. As much as she detested relationships, she was a sucker for other people’s relationships and she was definitely a sucker for her beautiful neighbor, even if he was asking to use her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“Not that I’m saying yes but… when? And where?” She finally asked after thinking things over for a moment.

“Tomorrow night… I can pay you. I will pay you, I mean… but, seriously, you don’t have to do it I just thought I would ask.”

“Where is this date at?” She repeated when he didn’t answer that part of her question.

“At this party… and bef—“

She cut him off. “Okay so let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”

He lifted a brow, “Well, there’s more… she wants to get dinner before going to the party.”

She shook her head, looking away, “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day…”

“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’ll pay for your dinner, too. Whatever you want. I just… really need your help and you’re my only option.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I’m not exactly…” she waved at her face and his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “I’m not easy on the eyes and I don’t think taking me will make anyone jealous.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at her incredulously. She shifted her weight nervously and he finally opened his mouth. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Her features scrunched up and she kept her eyes planted on the middle of his chest. And then he realized that she, in fact, did.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.” He also realized that using her to make his ex jealous would possibly hurt her more than it would help him and he could no longer fathom putting her through that. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.” He moved to walk past her, back to his apartment but she stopped him before he got far.

“No… I’ll help you.” And then she realized his identity was still somewhat of a mystery to her. “This sounds even worse than what you just asked me to do, but… I completely forgot your name.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.”

He smiled wider and nodded. “I know.” And then his face grew sad again. “I am really sorry I’m asking you to do this on Valentine’s Day, it’s definitely not my proudest moment.”

She waved him off. “I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do.” She didn’t bother brining up the whole payment thing. She didn’t really care about being paid. He was nice, the only nice person she’d encountered in her apartment building and if getting him back together with his ex meant she’d never have to come home and see him in the fetal position on the floor again, she’d suffer through a date and a party on her least favorite holiday.

It was somehow even worse than it’d been yesterday. The decorations seemed to triple in size. Not an inch of the office was untouched by something pink and she prayed whoever had put up even more decorations had spared her little cubicle.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” One of the receptionists most responsible for the overflowing decor, Kayla, called her over to her desk not even a minute after Y/N had arrived. And she stalked over until she saw the package Kayla pulled out that instantly lifted her spirits.

She stopped in front of Kayla’s desk and took the thin box from from her, already knowing what it was and thanking god for the timing so that her entire day wasn’t completely miserable. It was a new drawing pad she’d ordered, a bigger one that she hoped would be a bit more efficient to use than her current one.

Even with her back turned to the rest of the office, she sensed Harry’s presence long before he stopped beside her with his mug in hand.

He lifted a brow at the package in Y/N’s hands just as she reluctantly turned to look at him. “Getting gifts sent to the office? That’s a first.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the box under her arm, holding herself back from running off to her office to set it up. “Jealous?” She cocked her head.

And instead of his condescending smirk and a hateful response to go with it, the sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade as he eyed the box again, genuinely worried now that it was actually a gift from someone.

Before either could say anything, they all turned to find a delivery man walking up to Kayla with a giant bouquet of flowers in tow. And so it began. Although, when Kayla took the vase from the man eagerly, a bright smile on her face because Kayla loved love a little too much, Y/N couldn’t help but think about Adam. About how the only time she’d managed to get a date on Valentine’s Day was when it wasn’t even real. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to help her cute neighbor win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for a free dinner.

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

She felt Harry watching her, too, while she eyed the bouquet of flowers as they departed reception with Kayla and made their way to their recipient. As stupid as she found everything about the holiday, she couldn’t help but want someone to send her flowers. To give her anything for that matter. To have thought about her for at least a second of their day. Harry cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away.

“So… what’s in the box?”

“None of your business.” She rounded him, heading to her office, but he grabbed her free arm to stop her short and didn’t speak until she met his gaze again.

“Can we meet up in my office to finish the proposal? Think it’ll be easier to get it done than over email.”

She had every reason to be suspicious of him. They almost never worked in each other’s offices. When they did work together, which was often, it was in one of the empty conference rooms and it was usually at the beginning of the process when they needed the space to plan things out. The last time they’d really been in each other’s offices was last spring. Figuring he just wanted to get things done so he could be out of the office on time, she let it go.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He watched her walk away, watched her even as Kayla returned and noticed his gaze and giggled at him as she took her spot back behind her desk.

“It was something she ordered for herself, by the way.”

“What?” Harry whipped around again, not having even realized the other woman until now.

“I know you two pretend to hate each other but I see the way you look at her, Harry.” Kayla lifted a brow at him as she began typing on her keyboard.

He feigned disgust. “I’m seeing someone, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He insisted. “I have a date. Tonight.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay… I’m just saying.”

“I don’t look at her.”

Kayla suppressed a smile and snorted instead. “If you say so. I guess you didn’t also sneak into her office this morning, either.”

“I think all these flowers and stuffed bears and heart-shaped things have gotten to your head.” He pointed around to the decor littering her desk while holding his mug steady.

Kayla met his eyes and her smile slipped off her face. “Harry, please don’t mess with her.”

His face screwed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t like her then don’t lead her on.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of being led on.”

Kayla froze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that either. “Why are you being weird?”

“Because,” Kayla sighed, brushing her curled brunette hair onto one shoulder and then lowered the volume of her voice. “I happen to know she doesn’t think very highly of herself and I’d rather not see her get hurt, especially not by you.”

Now Harry froze. The hand that gripped his mug tightened and he didn’t even flinch as it began to burn his skin. He heard Y/N’s voice in his head then as he drowned out his surroundings.

Some of us don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.

He had instantly regretted what he’d said to her yesterday when she’d told him that. And now hearing Kayla, in a way, confirm what he’d read between the lines of Y/N’s words… his chest tightened in quite possibly the worst way ever. He’d hated himself most of the day after telling her he’d never lower his standards for her and he could say he was just bickering all he wanted, but he knew now for certain she took it the wrong way. And he wished more than ever that he hadn’t said something so horrible to her, especially when it was the farthest thing from the truth.

And the real truth, that he was trying desperately to shove away with stupid remarks like that, was that he didn’t meet her standards. She wasn’t into relationships and he knew he wasn’t good enough to change her mind.

“How do you know that?” He finally asked.

“That Christmas party last year… she’s a really happy drunk until she’s not.”

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get into it, mostly because I don’t think she remembers and would probably kill me if I told you but… just leave her be.”

He hardened back up again. “She does’t have any interest in relationships anyway, ‘specially not with me.”

Kayla scoffed. “She’s a really good liar.”

Harry stood there for a few more moments, feeling as if his life had just gotten flipped upside down. He’d been in such a good mood mere minutes ago before his dumbass waltzed into reception all because he’d seen Y/N. Because, despite everything and despite the fact he was already attempting to date someone else, it was Y/N he wanted to be close to all the damn time. Groaning, he turned on his heel and left for his office, hoping she wasn’t there waiting for him so he could have a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

In a hurry to open her package, Y/N slumped down into her chair tossing her purse on the ground at her feet and pulling out her box cutter in a rush of movements. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the little stuffed frog, the box of chocolates and envelope sitting on the other side of her desk near her mouse. Instead, she unboxed her new tablet and began setting it up, not noticing the gifts until she went to turn on her computer. And then she froze.

With reluctant hands she grabbed the envelope first, her name printed on it in perfect cursive. She knew nobody in the office who had such good penmanship. Opening the card in hopes of finding out who had placed the items on her desk, instead, she just found it signed as ‘secret admirer.’ Rolling her eyes, she set the card down and realized it had to be from her boss. Sometimes he remembered to go around and give everyone little gifts on the holidays. Obviously he’d remembered this year.

She dug into the chocolates as she set up her tablet and began calibrating it to suit her needs before finally testing it out in the little bit of time she had before she needed to make her way to Harry’s office.

And once that time came, she left everything in its place, besides the box of chocolates, which she continued to pick at while she made her way through the room. What she didn’t notice while stuffing her face with candy was that… no one else had a stuffed frog or chocolates or a cheesy little card on their desks.

She rounded the corner into Harry’s office, which was a real office and not a cubicle that he usually shared with one other person who was thankfully out with clients for the day. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention after just watching him focus on his screen for a moment. Harry was cute when he was focused.

But then he turned to her and his eyes fell to the box in her hand.

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out toward him. “Do you want some? I think Andrew was feeling generous this year.”

Harry’s eyes quickly panned up to hers and his brows furrowed as if she’d just punched him in the gut. And she couldn’t make out what that expression meant no matter how hard she tried.

“He didn’t give me anything.” Harry motioned around his desk.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.” She shrugged, setting the chocolates down on his desk while she grabbed his office mate’s chair and pulled it up beside him.

Harry sighed, turning to his computer for a moment and then watching her from his peripheral while she picked out another piece of chocolate. “I didn’t see anyone else with chocolates on their desks this morning.”

Y/N just shrugged. “There was a frog too. And a card.”

“And why do you think he’d give you all of that and no one else?” Harry hoped she’d get the hint but he didn’t hope too hard. She was still Y/N after all. And he really didn’t mean to sound so bitter… well, okay, he did. But he knew she’d misplace his bitterness, crushing what little hope there was to bits.

“Maybe he likes me better than all the rest of you.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he put his attention back on his screen.

“No one else in this office would give me a card signed as a secret admirer so… maybe I did something I don’t remember doing and he’s thanking me?” Now that she really thought about it, and if Harry was right… then it really didn’t make much sense. It’s not like she was Andrew’s favorite employee.

Harry just lifted a brow and then pretended to lose all interest.

Sensing the tension, she slipped the box closer to him. “Here. I think you need a knock-off Snickers if you expect me to work with your grumpy ass.” He made no move to indulge her, however. And so she went on, continuing to poke the bear. “Why are you in a lousy mood anyway? Isn’t this your favorite holiday? And you get to leave early.”

His eyes fell from his screen and he stared at the brick of sticky notes below his monitor before mumbling, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

Taken aback, she searched what she could see of his face for answers to what he was apologizing for. He’d said a few things she could imagine deserved an apology and yet, so did she. Maybe she should have been the one to apologize to him first.

“I didn’t mean to say what I did.” He finally turned to meet her face on. He’d hoped the frog and the chocolates would have been atonement enough, but considering she thought they were from their boss and not him, he just had to suck it up and actually say what he meant.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can be a prude sometimes.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head, “No that’s not… I meant what I said earlier in your office… about lowering my standards. It was a stupid thing to say and not true in the slightest.”

But then she smiled and he grew confused. “Yes it is. It’s okay to have standards, you know.”

“I know that. But if we… I wouldn’t have to lower my standards. And it was cruel of me to have said that to you.”

She couldn’t stand looking at him any longer and averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Well it doesn’t matter so… can we just get this proposal done?”

He’d wanted to spend how ever long it took to convince her that it did, in fact, matter, but Y/N was persistent, more so than him, and so he’d given in and they moved on to being productive with their time. And in less time than he’d anticipated their proposal was finished, being sent off to Andrew for approval before their presentation at the end of the week with their clients.

Harry sat back in his chair and she returned her own to the other desk where it belonged, all while he watched her.

“What do you do on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, just trying to get her to stay longer, knowing that if those were his true intentions, then he was fucked. That he wanted to be around Y/N, even though he was seeing someone else, albeit for just a week so far, even though she’d never want the same from him.

Maybe he was just as terrible with relationships as she claimed if he always chased after what he couldn’t have.

“That is also none of your business.” She grabbed her box of chocolates from his desk, his voice pinning her in place again though.

“Let me guess… it involves chocolate, your cat, and the most anti-romantic movies you can find?”

He would not think her very prudish if he knew what else she did on Valentine’s Day while alone in her apartment, but she figured it was best to keep that to herself. Instead, she smiled at him. “Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes and threw his arms up behind his head as he laid back in his chair, watching her curiously like he was trying to figure her out. Meanwhile, she was trying to not make it obvious she was staring at his biceps as they just about bulged from underneath the sleeve of his pink button-up. He’d done it on purpose though, so as much as she tried to hide it, he still grinned with satisfaction when she became flustered.

“Well, have fun with that, then.” He nodded, and for a moment while she was lost in his eyes and growing embarrassingly hot, she wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew exactly what not-so-innocent things she did on Valentine’s Day. Then he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and watching as she rolled her eyes, held her chocolates close, and left his office.

Adam arrived right when he said he would at five-thirty. It had given her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and into one of the few dresses she owned, to at least seem somewhat convincing that this was a real date. She also fixed her makeup and put on a pinkish-nude lipstick before switching out her bulky purse for a smaller crossbody.

When she opened the door to him, he most certainly did not disappoint. She almost let herself get lost in the delusion that it was a real date when she saw him dressed to the nines and cleaned up for the first time since she’d known him. And she especially got a little lost in it when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know.” He gave her a once over when she wasn’t looking. “You didn’t have to do this for me either.”

She quietly accepted the flowers and let him in while she found a vase and filled it with water. He leaned on the counter, watching her as she did so.

“You look… beautiful, by the way.” He blurted out once she had cut and placed the stems into the vase. Her hands froze, though, and when he met her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re paying me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous. Please don’t flatter me.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, although he was beginning to wonder if the bigger mistake was not taking her out on a proper date that had nothing to do with his ex.

She sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse. “Let’s go then.”

He went over all the final details on the Uber ride to the restaurant. Things about his ex he thought Y/N should know about. And he made sure she knew, for about the hundredth time, that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she reminded him for an equal amount of times that she never did anything she didn’t want to do. So, settling that, he helped her out of the back of the Uber when they arrived and opened the door to the restraint for her as well. Everything that she’d expect from a normal date, which only left her disappointed when she reminded herself it wasn’t.

She waited quietly, and tried to catch her nerves, while Adam talked to the hostess and gave her his ex’s name for the reservation. The place was packed and anyone who didn’t call ahead surely would not be getting a table tonight. She’d never been out on Valentine’s Day, though, so it was like stepping into a brand new world for her. And as she followed both the hostess and Adam, she paid more attention to all the couples enjoying their meals than anything else.

Except for when he reached back and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers just before they came to a stop. She blinked her eyes at their hands for just a moment before he gently pulled her around next to him. And whatever way she’d felt about holding Adam’s hand went right out the window when she locked eyes with Harry.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she expected to find, while Laura, the gorgeous blonde ex-girlfriend, stood to hug Adam, was Harry fucking Styles. And what a fucking coincidence it was, almost as if this was her karma for feeling the need to constantly help people.

Adam’s hand slipped from hers but she didn’t even notice it anyway. She and Harry still stared each other down and neither of them moved a muscle either. Well, besides the one in his jaw as it tightened. Then he did move, glancing over at Adam with a blank expression before landing his gaze back on her again. And then his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him and she felt like she’d been released from chains he’d tied around her wrists.

“This is Y/N,” Adam’s hand went to the small of her back, guiding her forward to meet his ex-girlfriend and Harry’s current… whatever they were.

Laura held out her hand, her smile a little too forced. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She ushered them to the table as she took her spot beside Harry again. Adam, of course, took the chair opposite Laura, which left Y/N in the one opposite Harry.

This would be a long, hellish night.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was thinking. That maybe she’d come to crash his date. Or, even worse, that he’d already figured the whole thing out. That Adam was paying her to be here. She really hoped he’d never find out because it was just embarrassing enough to make her want to change her name and move across the country, thousands of miles away from him. Harry finding out that she couldn’t get a real date to save her life… beyond humiliating.

“This is Harry.” Laura motioned to him and he just barely lifted his gaze, nodding at Adam and ignoring Y/N entirely. “You know,” the blonde went on, glancing between Adam and Y/N, “I was a little shocked when you told me you were seeing someone again.”

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?”

Y/N left all the talking to him. Mostly because she was still in shock that she was sitting across from Harry. And she hadn’t even taken the time to properly take him in and realized he’d also changed his clothes since work. Swapping his wardrobe out for a fitted black button-up, that wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top as his shirts normally were. The sleeves were already rolled to his elbows. He’d shaved off the scruff along his jaw as well and fixed his hair so that it was combed back out of his face, although a a couple rebellious strands hung down onto his forehead. He looked… like absolute perfection. And he was being forced to be on a date with the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was seeing and his annoying co-worker. She felt terrible for him.

“Oh, uh, well we live on the same floor.”

Laura nodded, clearly anticipating more. “Is that it?”

Y/N felt Adam tense up beside her and so she took over, easily spinning a lie. “I ran out of milk one night a few weeks ago. He’s the only one who answered the door.”

She noticed a flash of movement in her peripheral and turned to find Harry’s gaze on her again, one eyebrow lifted curiously. He was either wondering how she hid it so well, or trying to figure out what to ask in order to reveal their ploy. He never said anything, though.

“Sorry, um,” Laura’s tone changed as she glanced between Harry and Y/N, both of them looking away when the other girl interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

Harry grinned, sitting back against his seat and folding his hands in his lap. “Something like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We work together.”

“Really?” Although her tone said otherwise, Laura’s face said everything about how she felt upon hearing that bit of information.

Adam twisted his worrisome gaze to Y/N, but she ignored it. Harry, however, did not.

“Don’t worry, mate. I was under the impression she was celibate up until now.” With that, Y/N kicked him under the table and he sat forward to swallow the groan that very nearly left his lips after she’d jabbed him in the shin with the toe of her heels. “Guess she’s really good at hiding things, though.”

Adam just chuckled nervously and Y/N shot him an apologetic smile, trying to reassure him that this date would still work out despite Harry.

“What a small world.” Laura laughed, trying to break the tension but dinner hadn’t even started yet.

Sometime during the main course, Laura excused herself to the bathroom and Y/N almost, in a desperate attempt to flee both Adam and Harry, invited herself along. But she figured it’d be worse to be alone with Laura than with them. Laura might ask questions she wasn’t prepared for. So, she stayed put, as much as it pained her to do so.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Harry asked suddenly and she wanted to kick him again. Mostly because his tone was that of a jealous teenager and he’d waited until Laura was gone to pester her ex-boyfriend who most certainly did not deserve Harry’s pestering.

“Oh, uh, I’m an artist. I work for an animation studio at the moment but I’m trying to get into freelance.”

Harry’s eyes shot to the suspiciously quiet girl sitting across from him. “So is Y/N.”

Adam turned to look at her, but she just glared at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Harry titled his head as he narrowed his attention in on Adam again. “So you’ve known her for a few weeks and you never asked what she did?”

“Harry.” Y/N warned, trying to kick him under the table again but he dodged out of the way.

“Well… she said she was in graphic design… not art.” She had told him that, during their crash course yesterday while they got to know as much as they could about each other in a span of a couple hours.

“I think it’s the same thing.”

Adam just shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I could be a designer, though. Most artists make what they think looks good, designers create things to appeal to customers.”

“Just ignore him.” Y/N advised and Harry was the one shooting her daggers and attempting to stomp his foot on top of hers under the table this time.

“You and Laura used to date then? She never told me how you split up.” Harry moved on.

Adam swallowed nervously. “She broke up with me.”

“Why?” Harry pushed and Y/N looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which he ignored.

“I, uh… I had a drug problem for a while. I was not the best person to be around sometimes. But after we broke up, she helped me with rehab and everything.”

“Guess that explains why you’re on such good terms.”

Now Y/N really wanted to do more than just kick him.

Adam grabbed Y/N’s hand under the table and pulled her straight from her violent thoughts about Harry. And he didn’t lace his fingers between hers, instead, it felt as if he had just been looking for something to ground himself with. And her hand resting on her lap was the closest thing he could find. It didn’t, however, go unnoticed by Harry and his jaw clenched as he stared at the point in the table where, just below, there their hands met almost as if he was trying to set everything on fire.

Laura returned shortly after that.

As promised, Adam paid the entirety of both his and Y/N’s bill, even though she attempted to snag it from him, seeing as the date had gone to shit and it was all her fault. Well… maybe it was also Harry’s fault a little bit too. But she definitely did nothing to make Laura jealous. Adam, on the other hand, did a great job at making Harry jealous just by existing and being Laura’s ex, whom she was still friends with.

The four of them stood outside on the curb awaiting their Uber after dinner was over, agreeing upon splitting one car to get to the party instead of taking two. Laura was apparently very cautious about fossil fuel consumption.

Y/N shivered as she stood between Adam and Laura, wishing she’d bright a jacket instead of relying on a long-sleeve dress to keep her warm. Then an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Adam pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm to form heat. She tensed up, though, forming into an immovable brick. She had no idea the last time she’d been that close to another person, let alone a member of the opposite sex. When he felt her go rigid, he leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “Is this okay?”

She just nodded and tried to relax. Which turned out to be quite easy because Adam was warm and he smelled nice. She, of course, didn’t let her mind wander off too far. He was still in love with his ex. He’d still shove cash into her hand at the end of the night for her troubles and go on with his life.

Adam let go of her when the car pulled up and quickly went to the passenger door to confirm with the driver. Then he opened the back door for the three of them to climb in, Laura going first, then Harry, and, at last, Y/N, while Adam slipped into the front seat beside the driver.

While the car took off, Y/N was shoved into the corner when Harry moved closer to her in order to find both his and Laura’s seat buckles in the dark. Eventually, he settled back into the middle and gave her some space again. When she made no move to do the same as them, Harry turned to look down at her.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

Her eyes whirled up to his. Wordlessly, and of course after rolling her eyes, she grabbed her seatbelt and he made room for her to buckle it in. Then she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared out at the traffic through her window.

She would have stayed in that exact position the entire trip, too, if Harry’s knee didn’t insist on bumping into hers constantly. And she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When she glanced up at him, and found the corner of his lips curl upward, she figured it was, in fact, purposeful. So, with the hand closest to him as her arms were still crossed, she poked him in the side, right against his ribs, hoping it hurt.

“Ouch.” He whined, covering the spot with his hand dramatically. Everyone in the car glanced at Harry, all except for Y/N who snickered as she returned to staring out the window.

Harry wasn’t giving up, though. This time, with his arms crossed in his lap, and glancing at Laura to be sure she wasn’t watching, he walked his pointer and middle finger up the outside of Y/N’s thigh, close enough to her hip to make her squirm slightly when his touch tickled her. And as soon as he got her attention, he looked down at what he was doing and pressed his middle finger against her, meeting her gaze with a smirk.

In the same moment, the driver turned up the music in the car as they waited tirelessly at a red light. It was better than silence or listening to his passengers breathing. But Harry mentally thanked him and turned his attention back to Y/N, leaning into her slightly until his lips were at her ear and she shivered for an all new reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” He whispered for her ears only. The music was especially loud in the back and he wasn’t sure Y/N had even heard him.

Especially since she didn’t respond right away. But how could she? Harry’s fingertips were still grazing her thigh, as if trying to emphasize the dress she had on. And his stupid knee was pressed right up against hers. She couldn’t think straight.

Though when she finally turned to him and whispered back, “Don’t get used to it,” he knew she had, in fact, heard him well enough.

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.”

She hated that there were butterflies in her stomach. That he was saying such odd things to her when his date was sitting just on the other side of him. The date who most definitely met all Harry’s standards.

Huddling away from him, she stuck her eyes out the window and kept them there the rest of the trip.

It was just past eight when they arrived, a fifteen-minute trip up through the city taking half an hour due to all the Valentine’s Day traffic. Another reason she hated this holiday.

The party was being held by Laura’s best friend, who’s name Y/N did not care to commit to memory. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, though, Harry stood close to Laura, his arm wrapped around her waist and Adam to Y/N, although he didn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did, but she figured it was best to keep those boundaries in place anyway.

Pink and golden balloons littered the ceilings of the penthouse. The drink cups were also pink, as was the communal punch bowl that Y/N steered clear of, having no idea what was in it, or who had already spiked it. She knew nobody at the party besides who she’d come with, though she assumed both Adam and Harry were somewhat acquainted with Laura’s friends.

It was most definitely not someplace Y/N ever saw herself being at, not only because it was a Valentine’s themed party, but also because she wasn’t exactly comfortable around so many people. Especially when those people were all so unfamiliar to her.

“Here,” Adam handed her a drink and then grabbed one for himself. She downed the thing in one go, needing to take the edge off. It might’ve been a slight mistake when the alcohol burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care too much when she grabbed another.

Then he was leading her into the dancing pit of bodies where they huddled close enough so that his lips were at her ear. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She glanced over at where Laura and Harry had been left, finding both her hazel eyes and Harry’s green ones glued to the both of them. She wasn’t sure what Harry’s deal was, but this was her moment to fix things and make Laura jealous, so, turning back to Adam, she nodded.

He eased his hands onto her waist as they began swaying to the music. And then he pulled her closer, his hands slipping to the small of her back as her arms wrapped around his neck, being careful with her own movements even though she desperately wanted to sink her hands in his hair.

And, god, he smelled so good as her head rested in the crook of his neck. And he felt good, too, as he moved against her body. She knew it wasn’t real, and that the alcohol was making skewing her perception of things, but it was still nice. Nice to be held and to just let go for a change.

Over Adam’s shoulder, Y/N caught Harry’s eyes again. His jaw clenched and he looked the same as he did back at the restaurant. Angry. And then she realized that maybe she wasn’t really trying to make Laura jealous anymore at all, but rather Harry.

It was dumb, she knew that. He’d have to like her in order for her to make him jealous. But… the way he was looking at her. The way he had looked at her. His eyes lingering too long on her lips. What he’d done in the car ride here.

She heard Adam in her ear again. “I think it’s working. She just stormed off into the kitchen.” Then he pulled away and she realized she hadn’t even seen Laura. Just Harry. Harry and his stupid, obnoxious green eyes.

“You owe me more than just dinner.” Y/N teased but Adam grew serious.

“I know. And since you refuse to accept my money, I’ll have to figure out another way to repay you.” He smiled and then twirled her around so that she no longer had any line of sight toward Harry. He pulled her close again, one hand going to her waist while the other stayed locked to one of hers. “Suppose I could start with making your coworker just as jealous… although I think he already is.”

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him.

“Oh, come on! He was ready to rip my head off when he realized I’d grabbed your hand. And when I put my arm around you? I thought I might be better off just giving you my jacket and freezing to death instead.”

“I don’t…” she shook her head in disbelief. It was one thing for her to be pretending to make Harry jealous in some delusional hope that it’d work. But this… this was a whole other thing.

“I’m actually quite interested to see what he does if I kissed you.”

She was shocked at first and then, possibly due to the alcohol, just as interested. “Are you asking my permission?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

Adam’s eyes scanned the room and Y/N realized he hadn’t asked to kiss her for Laura’s sake at all.

“She is.” He finally announced.

Without any more second guessing, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of his neck and pulled him in. As soon as their lips collided and she tasted the alcohol on him, she knew that she’d never agreed to this without it. Or maybe she would. Adam spun them back around again, deepening the kiss as her eyes opened and fell into the direction she’d last seen Harry.

He was still there.

Still watching.

His hands in fists. His jaw tightened into a crisp line. His nostrils flared. His eyes… sad.

She pulled away. Adam steadied her, grabbing her shoulders when she swayed. But, as she caught her breath, the dizziness went away.

“I’m going to find the bathroom.” She told him and after he nodded, she left, forming a rift for herself through the bodies that danced all around them until she was in the clear. Then she was avoiding Harry as she walked past him, not so sure his gaze was still set on her. Maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t often just kiss people for no good reason and that’s exactly what she’d just done with Adam. She barely even knew him.

She didn’t exactly need the bathroom, just an open, empty and quiet place. And so, she fell back against a wall in the foyer and ran a hand through her hair.

“That was quite the show.”

She startled at the sound of his familiar voice and looked up just as he stopped a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe that that you, anti everything to do with this holiday and with relationships and romance, are actually dating that guy?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” She crossed her arms, willing to go as far as she needed to before she let Harry see the truth. That she was that pathetic.

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to respond and she flinched.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have a hard time believing that someone may actually like me.” She had no reason to nearly be shouting at him and no reason to be saying what she was because Adam didn’t like her.

“That’s not what I said. It’s hard for me to believe you just dropped all your ideas about relationships for some guy with obnoxious blue eyes.”

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

Y/N hesitated. Hating that the truth was about to boil over out of her mouth for him to see all the embarrassing bits of it, but she had no other way of convincing him. And it didn’t really help that Adam was so far out of her league that it wasn’t even convincing to begin with. Nor did she want to convince Harry of anything either. It was clear now that he hadn’t been jealous, he was just trying to figure out when she stopped hating relationships so much.

And the truth of that was she never really hated them. It was just easier telling herself she didn’t want it than admitting no one ever actually wanted her.

She trembled, not even sure why, but he was making her incredibly nervous, so much that she wished she could rewind and stay squished next to him in the back of the car forever. Being that close to him... his stupid fingers on her thigh, whispering things in her ear that made her head spin. She’d much prefer that than standing in front of him now, seeing every ounce of judgment he was about to throw her way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the white marble floors between them, focusing on calming her anxiety while she was no longer looking at him. “He needed a date and I felt bad for him.”

“What does that mean?”

Letting her head fall back against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling this time as her eyes burned with embarrassment. “He paid me to be his date so his ex-girlfriend didn’t find out he wasn’t actually seeing anyone. That’s what it means.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” She folded her arms, looking down at the floor again, still unable to meet Harry’s eyes and see the look that would be on his face. A smirk of amusement at her expense. Even probably his dimples, taunting her and turning her into the joke she already was. “You were right. I can’t find anyone to tolerate me, which is why I’m on this stupid date that isn’t even real.”

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

There was more exasperation than humor to her laugh. “It wasn’t.”

Harry seemed to finally understand. “He’s trying to make Laura jealous.”

Y/N just nodded. “I promise I didn’t know you were going to be there, that he was trying to get her back from you.”

“You still kissed him though.”

She couldn’t argue that, nor could she tell him the real reason she’d agreed to the kiss. That it wasn’t exactly Laura she was trying to make jealous. She’d never live that one down, if she ever managed to live any other aspect of this night down.

When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “Why did you kiss him?”

“I’m sorry, Harry I just... I don’t know.”

He shook his head and took another step, making her eyes widen when he was close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. “Seemed like you were trying to make me jealous.”

She swallowed, not exactly in the position to laugh it off and argue with him when he was this close and all she could feel were the traces of his fingertips on her thigh. Her voice was quiet when it finally came out. “Making you jealous would mean I assumed you liked me in the first place... which I’m definitely not stupid enough to assume.”

A crease formed between his brow and his stupidly perfect jaw hardened as if he was biting his tongue from saying something. And fuck him for choosing then to finally stop opening his mouth.

Just then, a pair of drunk guys, one on the other’s back, came racing through the foyer, screaming at the top of their lungs while a few others followed quickly after them. It was enough to force Harry away from Y/N again, enough for the both of them to step out of the little bubble they’d been in together the past ten minutes.

Once they were alone again, their eyes gravitated toward each other and just when she thought Harry might say something after all, he flipped around on his heel and left. And she watched as he turned the corner and mixed back into the party.

After a few moments to gather herself, she followed him, not exactly sure what she was going to do now that Harry wouldn’t talk to her and it felt weird being with Adam while Harry knew everything. But, whatever plans to keep herself occupied no longer matted when she spotted Laura.

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room.

Without even thinking, she turned to locate Harry and he might as well have been a source of gravity because her eyes fell right to him within a second. And he was watching them too. He knew.

He met Y/N’s eyes and she wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not. She couldn’t really read anything on his face, and stopped attempting to when he moved towards her and she had other things on her mind, like where he was going and if he was going to bother taking her with him.

Shortly after he stormed past Y/N she made sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind and chased after him. She didn’t know Adam very well and definitely not Laura to want to stay with them. And everyone else in the room were complete strangers to her. Adam had promised he’d take her home, but he probably hadn’t expected to be making out with his ex by the end of the night, either.

Harry didn’t say anything, not even when they’d reached the foyer and Y/N asked where he was going. He just located his jacket and slipped it on before making his way out the front door.

And right when she thought he really was going to leave her behind, since she was the reason he’d just lost Laura to her ex, he held the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her while she still stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Are you staying?”

Without a word, she sprung into motion and trailed right behind him into the hallway like a lost puppy, letting the door shut behind her that cut them off from the music as it faded into the background behind them.

It was a silent trip down the elevator, mostly because she had no idea what to say that would sound sincere and he didn’t say anything at all. At least not until she followed him through the lobby until he stopped on the curb just outside the main doors.

She took up the spot next to him, eyes glued to the side of his face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, or at least as fresh as traffic allowed it to be.

Then he spoke, and it seemed like the first time she’d heard his voice all night. “I’m the one who gave you the chocolates and the frog.”

She narrowed her eyes, both not exactly sure why he’d just said that or if he was even being serious. “What?”

He looked down at her. “It wasn’t Andrew, it was me.”

“Why?” She breathed and while she was positive she’d be freezing cold soon, the fresh air after being surrounded by so many people felt good. It felt freeing and she wondered if he felt that way too.

His eyes scanned hers before he looked away. “Well partly to apologize for what I said.”

“What’s the other part?”

Sighing, he turned his entire body to face her now. “Something else entirely…” He trailed off, only confusing her more as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like all this stuff, but seeing you with him tonight... I wish I had.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a frog.”

He shook his head, grinning. “It’s not just a frog, Y/N... because the thing is,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ve been in love with you for... a really long time… since last spring. But with you being the way that you are, I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“And then you come in with that guy and...” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous in my life... because all this time I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, but you just weren’t interested in me.”

Inhaling, she summoned every ounce of courage she could fathom. “You were right about why I kissed Adam.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her elaboration which never came. “You were right about other things, too. I wish I had someone to come home to almost every single night I got to bed alone. No one—“ She cut herself off, trembling again as tears stung her eyes. “I pretend not to be interested so I can ignore the fact that no one’s ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.” He had that same look on his face as before, when she’d told him she wasn’t stupid enough to think he liked her.

She just nodded. “And I’m sorry but... why would you want me when you could have someone like Laura?”

“Y/N...” He huffed and stepped closer to her, the heat from his body making her shiver. “This is not the first time I started seeing someone to get over you... in fact, all my relationships since I met you have been shit.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re very anti-relationships so I think I was justified in wanting to avoid you rejecting me… especially since we work together and it would have been really awkward.”

“I don’t, uh... I...” She stammered, not really sure what to say to him even though her heart was screaming at her in full volume.

He held his breath and then, in almost a whisper, “Is this the inevitable rejection?”

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate that time and at this point, her mind no longer controlled the words coming out of her mouth as she let another organ finally speak for itself. “No, I liked you the second I saw you, Harry... and at no point tonight was I ever trying to make Laura jealous.”

The corners of his mouth began to curl into a smile. “That was very cruel of you to do to me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me at all twenty minutes ago, Harry.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” he fully invaded all of her space now, leaving the smallest gap between their bodies as he could get away with, lifting his hand to her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I was still on this date with the wrong person.”

“I think the date is over now.”

“No,” his eyes fell to her lips just like they had before. “It’s not.”

“You’re looking at me like that again.” She mumbled, out of breath.

He lifted a brow and didn’t once remove his eyes from her lips. “Like what?”

“Like…” she trailed off, not having the courage to say it in case she wasn’t right.

“Like I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time and I’m tired of pretending?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He grinned, both of his dimples making an appearance just before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. And once her brain realized what was happening, she sunk right into him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as his other hand tangled its way into her hair to bring her closer. She threw her arms over his shoulders and he hunched lower to meet her. She staggered back a step when he did, nearly losing her balance but he caught her instantly and then drew his lips back as he laughed.

“This is not how I expected tonight to end.” She couldn’t help but think the way he struggled to catch his breath was possibly the hottest he’d ever been. Not to mention the tiny bit of her lipstick smeared on his face. She could look at him just the way he was right there and then for days and be perfectly satisfied.

“It doesn’t have to end yet.” She fully blamed her sudden burst of confidence on the cold, but refreshing February night. And maybe she also just wanted to get out of it before it caught up to her and she would, yet again, regret not having a jacket.

“Oh?” She wanted to smack the mischievous smirk off his face and leave him there on the curb. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

“You thought a lot of things about me that weren’t true, Harry.”

He thought about that for a moment and after realizing she was right, he then wondered just how wrong he was when he’d called her celibate. “I suppose… I’d quite like to find out just how wrong I was.” He slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, which is where his lips ended up as he whispered softly, “And I’d also quite like to show you just how wrong you were about me not liking you.”

They stumbled into her bedroom in the dark, Pretzel racing out between their twisted feet in a hurry, screeching at them in the process. Harry giggled against her lips, “Your cat sounds friendly.”

“Well, since I was supposed to be spending tonight with her, and chocolate, and anti-romantic movies…” She pulled away from him, watching as his smile spread further. Maybe she could actually believe he’d been in love all this time.

“Right… I’d be upset too.”

She shook her head and kissed him again, then pulled back a second later. “You know that’s not actually what I do on Valentine’s Day.”

He lifted a brow and waited for her to explain but she didn’t.

“And what is it that you do, then?” He finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he had some inkling as to what she was talking about.

Her smile was devoid of innocence as her hands fell to his belt. Harry’s shirt had already been lost to the kitchen floor. Her dress hardly covering what it was supposed to once Harry had gotten his hands on it.

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.”

When she brought her lips back to his, after undoing the buckle just under his navel, he spun them around and led her backwards to the bed. He wasn’t sure how far it was, but hoped he was headed in the right direction. And because of that, when her knees did finally bend over the mattress, he practically came flying down on top of her.

She squirmed out from under him, crawling back towards the pillows as she watched him at the end of the bed while he stood and removed his belt completely, trying not to drool at the sight of him. At the sight of Harry, her fucking annoying ass, perfect, beautiful, coworker standing shirtless at the end of her bed where he was also about to be…

He pushed his trousers down off his hips and they fell to the floor with ease, almost with the same amount of ease that her eyes fell to the tight boxer-briefs he wore underneath. She swallowed as he adjusted the waistband back into place, quite certain that, even in the low light, her eyes were not deceiving her.

The bed shifted at her feet as he joined her, and then it took all her willpower to not fling herself at him as he crawled up the length of her. As he settled himself between her thighs and she felt every last, very hard, inch of him pressed against her. She couldn’t be blamed for the whining moan that she let out in his ear as his lips became familiar with the shape and taste of her neck. She also couldn’t be blamed when her hips instinctively collided with his.

He just giggled again and shook his head, the loose strands of his curls tickling her forehead. “Easy now.” He warned in a hushed mumble, his lips vibrating right against the vein in her neck that pulsed so much faster the more his free hand began to wander up underneath her dress.

He left her speechless for multiple reasons, but the main one was when she felt his fingers tracing down her thigh and then, moments later, after he shifted his weight and used his knees to keep her legs open, she sucked in a breath of air as she felt him pressed against her clit, forcing her nails to dig into his back but he didn’t seem to mind.

Coming back down to kiss her, he began moving his hand in expert little circles, grinning against her mouth every time her body begged him for more. It wasn’t long that he complied, either, when he sat back on his knees between her legs and tugged her underwear off for good, throwing it to the depths of her bedroom floor. He wouldn’t have known where they landed even if he tried because his gaze belong to her only as he lowered himself to his elbows before her, kissing his way up her thighs until he reached her center.

When she squirmed away from him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into her hips after gently moving her dress out of the way.

“You know when we used to stay late at the office working?” He asked suddenly and the heat of his voice against her made her squirm again, but he held on tight. “And you would get sick of sitting in an office chair and made me promise not to tell Jim when you sat on his desk instead?” She had no clue where he was going with it, but still, she nodded. “Every single time I turned to look at you, I thought about doing this.” Before she could get words out or even a coherent thought, she felt his tongue on her. And this time when she jerked against him, she nearly slipped out of his hold until he grabbed her again and pulled her back down, digging himself further into her as she struggled to breathe properly.

She dug her fingers into his hair when he brought her close to the edge and showed no mercy. And somehow, she’d managed to get the sole of her foot up onto his shoulder in order to kick him away, but it didn’t matter much because he never budged. Not that she wanted him to, but he just felt so good…

“Harry!” She shouted, pulling at his hair and making matters worse for herself when he moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He let her come, never once lifting his mouth from her even as her hips jerked off the mattress and she very nearly pulled his hair out. When she stopped screaming, her voice caught in her throat because she was lost to her own orgasm, is when he lifted his mouth, replaced it with his fingers and watched her as she came down. As her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to get oxygen back into her system. Her hold on him loosened as she came undone around him, melting into his hands it seemed like.

And when he began rubbing his index and middle finger into her, once she was far and beyond overstimulated, and he knew that, she reached down with a whine and grabbed his wrist with what little strength she had in her and pulled him away. His hand fell to the other side of her hip, which he used to his advantage to pull himself up over her again, his other hand taking her dress with it until he was able to tug it over her head and toss it. Then he came back down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on her lips. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and when he pulled away, found her looking at him finally. Although it was with heavy lids as she still struggled to regain her bearings.

Before they could get much further, a loud crashing sound from the other room made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. She shot up instantly, grabbing hold of Harry’s bicep before moving him out of the way and sliding off the edge of the bed.

“It’s just the cat.” Harry would have probably said the same thing even if it was not just the cat, he’d say anything just to get her to stay with him.

“I know but it sounded like…” her voice trailed off as her feet hit the floor and the moment she went to stand on her own two legs, her knees buckled. He reached to grab her waist but she righted herself before he could. She didn’t see the way he hid his cheeky smirk at the fact that he’d been so good, she was still dizzy.

“You good?” He asked as she stumbled her way into a shirt. With only a groan in response, and what he was sure was her middle finger, she left him alone in her bed to investigate the noise. Sighing, he laid on his back and got comfortable amongst her pillows. And after about three minutes, decided to locate the remote to her TV to entertain himself.

He flipped onto his side and felt around her bedside table, but his fingers never landed on anything remote-like. So, frustrated, he reached up and switched the lamp on. Again, he found nothing. Looking further, he realized the table had a drawer and so he pulled it open in hopes of finding the damned remote before she got back.

But what he found instead was so much better than turning on late night news.

“Fucking cat knocked over my vase.” Y/N was back within ten minutes. Harry had left the light on, but made sure it wasn’t obvious he’d gone snooping into her drawer, at least not yet anyway. She crawled back into bed beside him and it was then he noticed the bandage on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He forgot all about what he planned to tease her with when he gently grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“Yeah. I was in a bit of hurry trying to clean up the glass…”

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. “I would have come help you.”

She just smiled up at him as he fit his arm around her shoulders, his bicep under her neck. “That’s alright.”

He shrugged. “It was for the best anyways that I didn’t.” When he smirked, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“And why’s that?”

She followed his other hand as he reached for something and then, moments later, it reappeared with a very familiar pink object clutched in his grasp. “Because then I wouldn’t have found this.”

Her first reaction was to pry it from his snooping fingers, but when she reached across him to grab it, he way too easily held her back and, at the same time, held it far out of her reach.

“So this is what you do on Valentine’s Day, then?” He flicked his wrist back and forth, waving her vibrator in the air as he taunted her.

“If you don’t give that back to me,” she reached for it again to no prevail, “you won’t be doing anything, least of all, me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Why would I give it back when I plan on using it?”

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Would be rude of me to break your traditions, wouldn’t it?”

She swallowed, her eyes slowly meeting his again. The appearance of his right dimple told her he wasn’t playing any games. She had no idea how many times he planned to make her come tonight or whether or not she’d even be able to walk tomorrow at work. But, given the stupid look on his face, she almost began making plans to call out sick instead.

“Do you actually know how to use that thing?” She finally asked, glancing at the wand still held very firmly in his hand.

He looked at her like she was crazy moments before he pivoted and pinned her onto her back, settling himself into the position they’d been in before the interruption of the cat.

Just, this time… he was clicking on her vibrator and watching her face as she began to regret her words.

“‘Course I know how to use it. The real question is,” he brought his lips to her ear, the soft vibrations and the sound of his voice mixing together like sin itself. Even more so when he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you know how to handle it?”

#1dffvalentine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine

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rivalsforlife · 2 years ago

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watched the rankin-bass return of the king and had to start making this post like twenty minutes in because I have COMPLAINTS my friends. I took notes. I tried to put them in order.

Overall? I wasn’t a huge fan of this one. It missed the mark on quite a few important things. I’ll try to split my comments into things I liked, things I didn’t like but (I thought) were understandable adaptational changes, silly little nitpicky changes, and changes that I thought kinda went against everything important.

Things I Liked

- Since this is just an adaptation of rotk, I liked how they had the beginning talking with Bilbo when he asks what happened and they can go back a bit without having to start at the beginning of the story.

- I like the idea of there being more songs in this. Though they were kind of uh. frodoooo and the nine fingers... and the ring of doom...... why does he have nine fingers......... where is the ring of doom..............

- where there’s a whip there’s a way

- I liked some of the scenes they kept in, like the part where Frodo tells Gollum “If you touch me ever again, you yourself shall be cast into the fires of Mount Doom” which is a pretty important thing there. Also Sam deciding to spare Gollum out of pity (though my Gollum comments overall are more in the negative sections)

- Eowyn got much more of her badass speech (compared to the jackson films at least) which is always appreciated

Changes That Made Sense For The Adaptation I Guess

- Plenty of major characters get cut. Like, lots. Legolas, Gimli, Faramir, Eomer, just off the top of my head. Aragorn gets a massively reduced role, he just kind of shows up at the end on the corsair ships and everyone’s like “yay he’s the king now” but he doesn’t actually really do much. More on him in the angrier ranting sections!

- Since it’s just an ROTK adaptation they kind of act like nothing exciting happened before, so there’s really no mention of the Fellowship (which makes sense when uhhh three of them are completely cut out). Instead of Merry staying behind with Theoden, he actually presumably is in Gondor first then leaves to go get Theoden and the Rohirrim to battle, and he’s allowed to ride with them instead of having to go in secrecy.

- Since Faramir’s gone Denethor’s death scene is just kind of. He seems much more uhh out of it than in the books, no real trace of nobility. “if you are a dotard then you are dead” well he sure is dead. Lots of the tension is gone here.

- Eowyn pretty much has no role except for showing up at the moment to fight the witch king and standing next to this guy with dark hair at the end who actually might be faramir but it’s hard to tell. I guess they didn’t have time for her? but it’s a bit weird. Obviously none of her despairing or really any character at all, she doesn’t even really suffer after she kills the witch-king, she just says “UNCLE... I HAVE AVENGED THEE” and a single solitary tear drops down her face. that’s about the extent of it. The only reason this is here is because ugh time reasons I guess.

The Silly Little Nitpicky Things

- this one also has pronunciation errors. “sirith ungol”. “sore-on”, again.

- This is Elrond:

making lotrop celebrimbor look like a young lad of 20 or so

- there’s a weird comment near the beginning I just did not understand at all where it’s like. talking about the banner of the stewards over gondor and something about “it’s silken arms embracing a domain more fitting gwaihir, lord of the eagles, than those whose emblem it bore” which I still don’t understand but I guess it’s implying gwaihir + the eagles just live in gondor? which is weird. and unnecessary. imo.

- sting makes this throbbing sound whenever it’s out and it’s really annoying and horrible. the phial of galadriel does too.

- they make up a lot of dialogue but it’s really not tolkienian at all. “god help us” is used at least twice and it’s quite jarring. I also think they insert more “thee”s and “thou”s than strictly necessary. but I’m no linguist.

- theoden dies being thrown from snowmane but he isn’t crushed beneath him he kinda just flops to the ground and dies which is so useless. and merry shouts “HEAR ME DARKNESS I WILL AVENGE MY LORD”

- when Eowyn shows up everyone is just kind of standing there watching her fight the Nazgul. which is quite weird. The Nazgul’s voice is very painful to the ears which I guess is book accurate but it’s a lot more screechy than, say, jackson’s, which does seem more chilling.

- shadowfax has a saddle :/

- at one point frodo just kicks over a bottle of water onto the ground by accident like in the middle of mordor. and this is not a problem at all.

- gollum looks kind of toad-like, he doesn’t really look like he could have been a corrupted hobbit at one point at all. so it takes away a lot from the pity and the sort of sympathy you can have knowing he’s been just like a hobbit but corrupted by the ring over years and years, you know?

- sauron is a weird eyeball again guys. but not even like the jackson one he’s like... any of you had those eye exams where they take a picture of your retinas? it looks like that.

- the eagles come to carry aragorn’s army away from mordor. like the whole army. I guess there’s six thousand eagles now. why not.

- the ending kind of implies that hobbits and humans will merge together over time. and maybe YOU have hobbit in you! which I don’t really like. iirc from the introduction to the hobbit the hobbits just kind of... hide from humans later on. The ending also says the dwarves disappear into the misty mountains? they might still have a balrog friend in there I guess.

- also when they’re offering to take frodo to valinor sam’s like “I don’t have to go do I :(” but there’s sure some Sam Problems in this that I have.

The More Significant Problems

- THE SAM PROBLEM. okay so this starts at the beginning of rotk after the shelob attack and where frodo is already captured and in cirith ungol. They take out Shelob, which is fine, I guess. BUT. Instead Frodo is beat up by orcs (where’s Sam? Who knows). There’s several like littler points I could make here.

- First point: Frodo in the middle of this fight loses his cloak, Sting, and THE ONE RING. and it’s just lying there for Sam to find later. I have no idea how Frodo would so easily lose the Ring, and I definitely don’t know why the orcs wouldn’t at least be a little bit interested in getting their hands on it, considering that thing would want to get to the orcs and then to Sauron.

- Second (and more important) point: Sam, knowing that Frodo has been taken alive, instead decides to go to Mount Doom himself, for a while. So they tried to do The Choices of Master Samwise but really missed the point. The only reason Sam abandoned Frodo is because he was convinced that Frodo was dead, and even then he was in agony and contemplating just waiting with him to die. And the second he learned that Frodo was taken alive he threw away any idea of going to destroy the ring himself and focused solely on saving Frodo, because everything he does is out of loyalty to Frodo and that’s part of how he resists the temptation of the ring. And Sam beats himself up for ever leaving him in the first place despite objective logic being “if Frodo’s dead go finish the task”. But not here! He kind of just. tries to break into the tower, finds the ring on the ground, and decides to go. When he decides to go back and save Frodo his internal logic is a lot more of “Frodo is the only one who can find the cracks of Mount Doom” which a) no he isn’t b) WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO SAM???

- They show Sam’s vision of what could happen if he claimed the ring, but it goes on for way too long and has so much focus on him being Samwise the Strong Fighting Sauron and like. I was convinced at this point they would leave out the garden part entirely, but at least they got to that, so credit where credit is due, but. I was so disappointed in them having Sam willingly abandon a living Frodo that I had a much less favorable impression of this scene than I might have otherwise.

- Sam has the phial of galadriel from Frodo’s cloak, but he has no idea what it is, and says stuff like “huh I wonder what magic is making it glow like that”. Cutting out the details alone would put this in the “reasonable adaptational changes” category but like... Frodo says “if I betray it’s trust and tell the secret, it’s powers will die!” GIRL IT’S THE LIGHT OF A SILMARIL. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. they just added this thing in as a reason to not explain the phial. But does this thing about the powers dying have any actual relevance to the plot? No. It would be much simpler to say “oh, this gift from the powerful elf lady we met on our travels” and it would be the same length if not shorter. or they could just cut out the watcher’s scene entirely actually, a third of a way into this movie they were still on chapter 1 and you sure can feel it.

- oh and despite spending a third of the movie on the tower of cirith ungol and also having frequent songs in here, they don’t have Sam’s song in the tower to find Frodo. What’s the point. (this is nitpicky. but I’m keeping it here anyways.)

- ARAGORN. he doesn’t really have a role in anything. he really just walks in like “I’m the king now”. Obviously no houses of healing to prove his claim and hardly being a leader in battle since he shows up like 20 minutes from the end with his corsair ships. He also says some weird comments like to Gandalf “why so glum, wizard? Does the mere thought of Sauron’s forces overwhelm your spirit?” he has so much more respect for gandalf than this. come on.

- Aragorn leads the march on the black gate like usual, but he does not do this to provide a distraction for frodo and sam to make it to mount doom, which is like... the whole point. the whole point of this whole hopeless battle. instead it’s “if we sit here and wait for sauron, we’ll probably die, and if we go to battle, we’ll probably die, SO WHY NOT JUST GO OUT IN BATTLE” and it makes aragorn seem like such a fool instead of being wise and self-sacrificial for the sake of defeating evil forever.

- Frodo actually claims the ring during the battle of pelennor fields, so I thought they were going to cut out the last debate / the black gate opens entirely. but no he claims the ring and then just. hides in mount doom. for a week. this makes absolutely no sense to me because it means sauron is just incapable of telling when somebody in the very heart of his domain has claimed the ring? he should know instantly. and it’s an utterly unnecessary change to make too, is the thing. it’s like they got close to the end of the frodo-sam story and realized they would be abandoning it for a long time to wrap up the gondor stuff, so instead of restructuring stuff they just decided to pad on a week with nonsense. frodo and sam are hanging out in mount doom for a week with presumably no food and water! then gollum finally shows up to finish things off.

so yeah it just felt like it missed the point in a lot of critical places for me, so I can’t honestly rank this one very high. probably one of the poorer lotr adaptations in terms of faithfulness to the spirit of things, and some completely unnecessary changes that contribute absolutely nothing. where there’s a whip there’s a way is unreasonably catchy though, I get why it’s a bit of a meme.

#tolkien adaptation rankings #lotr #long post

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managedmischiefs · 3 years ago

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sweatpants//spencer reid

genre: fluff

warnings: nothing really. sad spencer for about two seconds.

word count: 2.7k

i have plenty more one shots on my wattpad so let me know if any of you want to see more of this type of writing :) make sure to reblog and comment :))

i fell in love with spencer reid the moment i met him. i fell in love with absolutely everything about him. his smile lit up the little bookstore as his glasses drifted further and further down his nose, and his hair hung over his forehead in messy, unbrushed curls. from the first time we locked eyes after he got a book down from the top shelf for me, i envisioned our whole future together.

we saw each other casually after our first meeting despite how badly i wanted more. we quickly realized that we frequented the little bookstore at the same time on saturdays and we just began to "accidentally" run into each other over and over at the same exact day and time. of course, i made sure to be there every saturday for the next three months just for the chance of seeing him.

i finally got the balls to ask him out after the fifth month of these meetups. he seems surprised and he blushed, then tugged on his tie to loosen it around his neck. he accepted quickly and we went bowling the next week. we were both horrible and eventually asked to put the bumpers up because the amount of gutter balls we were throwing were astronomical. but that "first" date was the first time i noticed something very important about spencer reid.

he wears a variation of the same outfit every single day, no matter what he's doing.

sweater vests, button ups, slacks, ties, and converse. sometimes a cardigan. these items get mixed and matched everyday and sometimes don't match, but the chaos of his outfit colors just suits him. and it suits his penchant for wearing mismatched socks. but i continued to realize more and more about his wardrobe as we spent more time together.

if we went out: slacks, button up, tie, converse.

if we had dinner at his apartment: slacks, button up, sweater vest, tie, converse.

if we cuddle on the couch: pajamas.

there's no in-between with him and it took me a while to decide if i loved this or thought it was odd. i landed somewhere in the middle. he would sometimes start to squirm in the middle of dinner and go to change into pajamas to be more comfortable.

i never commented on this because i knew he liked the way he dressed and i didn't want him to think i hated it. he's already an insecure person, despite me loving him with my whole heart and soul, and i'd feel so horrible if i added onto that. so i would sit through the squirming and the tie-tugging and the quick unlacing of shoes after a long day of converse wearing. i grinned and gave him lots of kisses because i love him regardless of his fashion choices. or lack there of.

but spencer continues to grow and thankfully, i grow with him. i start a new job and spencer continues to thrive at the bau. i move into his apartment and he decides that this is the perfect time for a change. a new haircut. super short on the sides and long on the top. i nearly keeled when i saw how utterly handsome he was with his new haircut. i jumped his bones immediately.

but the sweater vests and same brown cardigan didn't quite hit the spot anymore. i would find spencer standing in front of the mirror before work, silently wondering if the black or brown cardigan would look better with his gray sweater vest. still, it was endearing but eventually it becomes too much.

i pass a department store everyday on my way home from work and it started to pique my interest. one day when i got off work early and knew spencer wouldn't be home, i stopped off. the store was huge and had a humongous selection of styles and brands to choose from. i knew i had to bring spencer.

when i told him i wanted to take him shopping, he tilted his head in confusion like an adorable puppy. "what do you need? new sweaters? it is almost winter and i know you got rid of most of your winter clothes when the summer came. did you—"

"no, honey," i laughed, silencing his confused, off-topic rant. "i'm taking you shopping. for you."

another head tilt. "for me? i don't need anything."

"i know you don't need anything," i clarified, running my hands through his freshly cut hair, "but i want to treat you. and besides, i think you've outgrown some of your wardrobe and it's time to get some new items."

so that leaves us now, walking hand in hand into the department store. he's holding me tighter than usual as i lead him to the men's section, but i don't complain. i know he gets nervous in public places and i have no problem with a bit of coddling.

"so, i was thinking," i say as i flip through a rack of undershirts, "you could get some new dress pants. maybe a pair of jeans. maybe some blazers or just suit jackets. that way your style can grow but you can also wear your trusty button ups and ties underneath."

spencer pouts. "i like it better when we shop for you."

i stifle a laugh as i find an appealing gray blazer and search for spencer's size. "and why's that, bub?"

"because then you get to pick out cute clothes and i can watch you try them on."

"well, this time, i'll get to watch you try them on," i wink and hand the blazer over to him. "hold that. please and thank you."

spencer huffs and drops my hand so he can hold the hanger of the blazer. i continue walking through the racks and in my peripherals, i can see spencer glancing around the store and at the racks surrounding us. he follows behind me like a lost puppy, the amount of items in his hands growing as i pass every rack.

"how would you feel about," i pick out a set of matching maroon pants and a maroon blazer, "this color?" i told it up to spencer's chest. he looks down at the garment and scrunches up his nose. "no? that's okay. i think navy's suit you better anyway. no pun intended."

"babe?" he wonders softly as i move over to a rack of ties. "why are you doing this?"

"doing what?" i pick up a tie that is blue with pink flamingoes on it and drape it over his shoulder.

"taking me shopping. wanting to redo my wardrobe or something."

"well," a new tie on his shoulder- a yellow base with blue whales, "you have had the same wardrobe since i met you, and that was many years ago. you've grown up, spencer. maybe some new clothes could reflect that."

i watch a pout come to his face and his shoulders deflate. "you don't like the way i dress?"

i pout right back at him, trying to not seem so mocking in my expression. "i love the way you dress. but i think it might be time to replace that same brown sweater vest you've had since college. that's what i'm talking about. we don't have to do this if you don't want. we can go home."

spencer thinks for a second. he adjusts his hold on the handful of blazers and trousers in his arms and takes another glance at them. "i'll give these a try."

the pride swells in my chest and nearly bursts out. it's no secret that spencer hates change. he would rather his life stays exactly the same all the time. meals, furniture arrangement, train schedule, his wardrobe. clearly, he would rather wear the same clothes for the rest of his life than branch out a bit. so him agreeing to do just that nearly makes me cry right in the middle of the department store.

we push on and spencer continues to trail behind me and hold the clothes i pick. once his knees are practically buckling under the weight of the chosen clothes, i agree to let him start part two. the fitting room.

he disappears into a room and i sit across from the door in a fluffy armchair that probably has more germs on it than a public bathroom. okay, maybe that's just dramatic. but it has enough germs that i'm sure spencer would refuse to sit here, or maybe even get grossed out that i'm sitting on it.

"uh," i hear my boyfriends voice from behind the door, "i think i did it."

i hold in my giggle. "you think?"

"i mean, i put together an outfit. don't know if it's any good. it's definitely not as good as the things you put together."

"just let me see."

the door pops open and my jaw nearly hits the floor. my spencer is standing there in navy slacks, a navy blazer, a vest, button up, and a tie. he looks exactly like i expected him too. my same loving, quiet, genius boyfriend but much older and mature. he looks phenomenal.

but spencer scrunches up his nose and turns on his toes to look in the full length mirror. "i feel like all of this is too busy. there's too much happening."

"no, baby, not at all," i come up behind him and slide my hands across his back and then around his waist. "it's such a good look on you. it's spencer reid but as an adult."

he furrows his eyebrows and looks at me through the mirror. "are you implying i dressed like a child before?"

"no, no, not at all," i nudge his waist and he spins back to me. "it's a perfect outfit. you put it together perfectly. the colors, the different pieces."

spencer's face lights up as he watches me adjust the lapel of his jacket. "really?"

"yes!" i smooth down the shoulders and then tug on the cuff links. "it's perfectly your style. you don't think so?"

"mm," he looks back down at his own body and shakes out his arms a little. "i guess it is. it's just...different."

"it is different but it's a good different. you're still the same old genius who could go on for hours about mushrooms or doctor who or whatever. so you," i pat his shoulder and go up on my toes to kiss his cheek, "get into a new outfit and show me again, okay?"

spencer agrees and closes the fitting room door. we stay at the store for nearly two hours, picking out and trying on potential outfits. spencer even starts picking items on his own, but he comes to me in the cutest way to ask if i like the things he's picked out. i always do. and even if it's not my favorite piece, he obviously likes it so i tell him i love it.

we spend hundreds and split the bill. i insisted i pay because i was the one who brought him here, but he insisted he pay because the clothes are for him. we found a happy medium.

i don't know what i thought was going to happen after we basically replaced his wardrobe. apparently, i didn't think about what the next work day would be like. because i wake up before spencer and go to make breakfast and only listen to him shower and get dressed.

"good morning!" spencer chirps, practically skipping into the kitchen.

"morning!" i say back, putting pancakes on a plate for him. "here's your—" and i absolutely freeze in my spot at the sight of him in a dark tan jacket and slacks, a purple button up, and a matching gray tie. his hair is perfectly swooped across his forehead and he's grinning, practically glowing in his new outfit. "holy shit."

"you like it?" he holds up his arms a bit as if to gesture to his appearance.

i just stand and stare at him for another minute, clutching the plate in my hand so tightly that i fear i might break it. but spencer chuckles, taking it from me and placing it in front of the chair he always has breakfast in.

"i might not let you out of the house looking this good," i finally manage to say. "you'll come home with a new girl on your arm and forget all about me."

spencer pouts. "i'd never do that to you."

i grab onto his cheeks and lay a huge kiss on his lips. "i know you wouldn't. you look amazing, spence. even better than yesterday."

spencer comes home that night and beams about the compliments he got from his coworkers today and thanks me for encouraging him to expand his wardrobe. i don't accept his thanks because i'm just happy to see him feeling more confident in himself than ever.

however, my job is not done yet.

as much as he loves his new clothes, i give him a few weeks to adjust to his new normal. i let him get used to needing a few extra minutes in the morning to arrange an outfit and to the washing process before i spring something new on him. but once i can tell he's completely comfortable with his new wardrobe, i stop at the department store after work again.

"spence?" i call into the apartment as i kick my shoes off, clutching the paper bag in my hand.

"hi!" he calls back, emerging from the study with a book in his hand. "you're late."

i hold up the bag for proof. "i stopped at the store again." spencer follows me into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed in anticipation. "well, first, i saw a couple more ties that i liked," i take those out of the bag and throw them over his shoulder. "but i got these!"

i pull out three perfectly folded pairs of sweatpants and four plain colored tee shirts. spencer unravels each item and then looks up with his eyebrows furrowed. "i don't get it."

"okay," i giggle, placing my hands on his shoulders, "when i go to work, i wear my skirts and blouses and heels, right?"

like the puppy he is, he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "right."

"and when i got to sleep, i wear pajamas. but between the blouse and the pajamas, i wear sweats. you, my love," i boop his nose and instantly, an adorable pink hue paints his cheeks, "don't own sweats. you go from suits to pajamas. and again, i'm not saying that i don't love the way you dress. i'm just looking out for your comfort. if you hate them, i'll return them. simple as that."

he runs his hands over the tee shirts and runs it between his fingers. "they are really soft."

"i got the ones that are 100% cotton because i know you like how it feels."

"i'll try it," he concedes, smiling up at me. "thank you. you're too good to me."

"you deserve the world, angel face."

the next day, he gets called away for a case and i don't see him for almost two weeks. we call and text as much as possible, but we both get so busy that it's nearly impossible. so i stick to sending him good morning and goodnight texts and praying that he comes home in one piece.

after nearly two and a half weeks without him, i come home and see his car in the parking garage where it always is. i squeal, running all the way to the apartment and bursting through the door.

spencer is lounging on the couch, thankfully in one piece, and reading a book, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt. he looks up and grins when i enter, standing up and pulling me into his arms.

"i can't believe you're sitting here," i mumble into his neck, "and looking so good when i'm not around."

spencer laughs into my shoulder, kissing my small bit of exposed skin. "well, you're here now so you can enjoy it."

"you look so fucking hot," i blurt out, grabbing a handful of his cotton shirt and tugging him towards the bedroom. "let me show you just how hot i think you are."

"god, i love this new wardrobe."

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg

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writing-red · 4 years ago

Text

The Onyx Ring | 6

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Chapter six of the Silver Letter series. It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings:

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: So, I am middle-eastern and I rarely find the opp. in fics for that to fit, and since I talk about family history in this chapter I wanted to make the reader’s ethnicity open ended. Just keep that in mind when the reader’s family history comes up. Also note that I made some changes here and in chp. 5 to incorporate titles because I can ;)

You spent Wednesday and Thursday holed up with Draco in his room healing. The wounds on your back pertinent and angry; the pain there to remind you of your sins against the family no matter what you did or what you took. Not only that but you knew the scars he left would last, layered atop the old. In order to gain some privacy, Draco had told Narcissa that you’d broken your leg and that you were just waiting on the potion to do its job, it usually took two to three days, so the lie served its purpose, and Narcissa left you both alone in order to allow you to heal. The entire time you virtually didn’t leave Draco’s bed, he’d go to your room if you wanted a book or a particular sweater, although admittedly, you were using the situation as an excuse to wear Draco’s. Zilsey would bring you both food and magically tend to your wounds so that Draco wouldn’t have to risk getting in trouble for using magic outside of school.

Throughout Thursday, you laid in Draco’s arms as he read your classic muggle books aloud to you, although you were keen on forcing him to read your favourite, Pride and Prejudice. Less because you wanted to read it, which you certainly did, but more because you wanted him to read it.

“‘Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.’

‘Which do you mean?’ and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’” Draco paused after reading the section aloud

“Mmm,” you breathed as you looked up at him. “Why have you stopped?”

“Well, doesn’t he know that Elizabeth can hear him? I mean, that’s quite rude,” Draco huffed, and you giggled despite the pain it caused in your ribs.

“Draco, it is just a story,” you smiled, amused by his investment so early into the novel.

“Yes, but Elizabeth is clearly too good for him,” he said, still frustrated with the fictional Mr. Darcy’s actions.

“Merlin, I wonder how she feels,” you teased him, lightly referring to your own situation.

“I wasn’t ever this mean to you,” he huffed.

“Draco, don’t challenge me on this. As you will indeed lose. Now, unless you want such a lecture, I suggest that you continue reading,” you said playfully.

“Is that all I am to you, an audible library?” Draco asked, mocking pain.

“Yes, dear, that is the only reason why I lie here so that I can use you for that deeply, handsome voice of yours.”

“Fine then,” he said as he returned his gaze to the book. “Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him.”

“Draco,” you interrupted, your voice plainly displaying that you were not paying attention.

“Yes?” he asked, looking away from the book again.

“Come here,” you muttered as you propped yourself up on your elbows in an attempt to get closer to his lips.

“Are you trying to distract me from Jane Austen with physical affection?” he asked, sounding as you had truly hurt his feelings.

“Just one?” you asked, “Then I will let my library get back to his very important duties.”

“Fine,” he huffed as he leaned down and caught your lips with his. The kiss was warm and pleasant, and it made you forget about your pain for a moment as you were happy to lose yourself in his soft lips. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked after you both pulled away.

“Precisely,” you said, an entirely satisfied smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he said, smirking, but glad to see you in such good spirits considering you spent most of Wednesday in and out of panic attacks and nightmares. It pained him to see you in such a state, yet it comforted him that he was able to be there for you through it.

You lowered yourself back down and laid your head on Draco’s thigh as he cleared his throat and continued reading. “She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day reading, Draco pausing anytime he had questions or a vote of confidence for Elizabeth, becoming increasingly excited by Lizzie and Mr. Darcy’s interactions. While you continuously had to remind him that you did not intend on spoiling the book for him. You found it interesting how things had shifted between the two of you since just yesterday; you didn’t know that you’d had it within you to trust him the way that you suddenly did. You were sure that you would hate him till you were on your deathbed, and you had been determined to push away any feelings for him. Somehow you now found yourself laying in his lap, essentially trusting him with your life, your secrets, and your traumas, essentially handing your heart to him on a golden platter. And you were nervous to go back to school, that the petty drama, secrets, sneaking around, and lies would return to your relationship, but you refused to dwell on that for the time being.

Friday morning, while you were still asleep, Draco snuck out of bed to find his mother, he was determined to protect you from your parents, and after what they did to you, he didn’t want them back in his house. Aside from the wedding, he didn’t want them around you at all. He was sure that if he told his mum the truth about what happened, she would feel the same way. Draco dressed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he knew his mother would be. Since his dad has been in Azkaban, she had stopped eating in the dining room instead, taking her breakfasts early in the kitchen.

“Mother,” Draco greeted as he entered the kitchen.

“Draco dear, how is Y/n’s leg?” Narcissa asked, setting down her copy of the Daily Prophet when she noted her son’s entrance.

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about,” he said as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Leave us, elf,” he assumed the traits he was raised to bear easily around his mum, and Zilsey quickly skittered out of the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Well, she didn’t break her leg mum, Wednesday when Sir Y/l/n pulled her away from lunch, she didn’t trip and break her leg, her father beat her nearly to death, he used the splitting curse on her, she had nearly bled out by the time I found her,” Draco explained. “Now, I don’t want either of them over again except for the wedding, and even then, I don’t want them having any contact or control over her.”

“Draco, it is not our place to interfere in the way William and Layah choose to discipline their children,” Narcissa said, hiding the pain she felt for her future daughter-in-law with complete neutrality.

“Excuse me? You’ve got to be joking! You should see her back; it’s been ripped to shreds by that bastard, she’s got a bloody scar reaching from her eye to the bottom of her face, and no potion or spell has been able to get rid of it,” exclaimed Draco in anger.

“Draco,” Narcissa warned, her voice remaining low and quiet.

“Don’t do that. Just because you can’t stand up for me when father reprimands me doesn’t mean you have to let the same thing happen to her.”

“Draco,” Narcissa repeated, her voice tighter this time, rising from her seat. “If her parents have decided that she has done something that demands scolding, then they will handle that as they see fit. It is not our place to interfere. And you shall not be referring to your future father-in-law with such language.”

Draco pushed the tears that were pooling in the back of his eyes away, he refused to show such weakness in front of his mother. “How could you simply turn a blind eye to this?” He questioned. When he was met with dead silence, he nodded, “I see, mother, I will be retiring to my room then,” he said, turning to leave.

“Before you go,” she said, stopping her son in his tracks although Draco did not turn to face his mother. “I expect you to propose to Y/n using the family ring tomorrow night as is expected in our families traditions, I believe you have the ring?”

Draco simply nodded in confirmation before striding out of the kitchen.

Narcissa remained standing with her head held high, only collapsing into her seat when she was sure that Draco was half-way back to his room. She pushed all thoughts of the torture you endured at the hands of your parents, her friends, out of her head.

When Draco made his way back to his room, he found you out of bed and nowhere to be found, which he thought to be a bit worrisome.

“Y/n?” He called.

“I’m in your closet,” you called, and he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his bed.

“It sounds like you’re feeling better,” he commented, although you could hear the distress in his voice.

“I am, it still hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before,” you said as you stepped out of his closet in a perfectly oversized white knit sweater of his and one of your pairs of jeans. “Although it sounds like you have something going on, does it happen to have anything to do with where you disappeared to this morning?”

“I just had a conversation with my mother,” he said as he dropped his head into his hands.

You sat next to him and put a kind hand on his shoulder, “do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go walk around the gardens?”

“Let’s get outside, the sun is out, and it’d be nice to show you around out there,” he said as he met your eyes and matched your smile, trying his best to put his conversation with his mum out of his head.

“Sounds lovely,” you said as you stood up and reached a hand out to him.

Draco took your hand and stood up, but before he really could think about anything, he pulled you into a tight embrace, only knowing that he wanted to hold you as close as he could.

The hug surprised you at first, taking you off guard, but after a moment, you felt yourself melt into his arms, your two bodies fitting perfectly with one another’s as if you were meant to hold one another. He rested his head on your shoulder and continued to hold you, you could feel his desperation, and you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t be the one to let go. Although eventually, he slowly released you, taking a moment to observe you and take in your beauty.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice now somehow lower.

You simply nodded as he took your arm in his and the two of you made your way downstairs and out onto the platform that led out into Malfoy Manor’s extensive and stunning gardens. Despite the beautiful spectacle displayed before you, again, you were affronted by a cold and unnatural thing. The gardens and mazes were filled with the darkest colours nature could serve, and overlooking them were statues of cruel-looking men whom you often found stalking around in the portraits within the manor, and each of their statues was accompanied by snakes and peacocks.

The two of you silently descended into the gardens, and Draco led you into the towering maze.

“I used to run around through here when I was little. I know it like the back of my hand,” he said as he led you down one of the forks in the maze. “I don’t think anyone else in my family knows it so well.”

“It’s intimidating,” you admitted, to which he responded with a nod. “This whole place is.”

“I think they built it like that on purpose,” he admitted, leading you down another twist in the path. “Apparently, the first Lucius of our family acquired the land, and when Queen Elizabeth I rejected his hand in marriage, he retired from court and focused on the building of the manor.”

“My great-grandfather burned any proof that our family ever fraternized with muggles, although I’m sure they were title obsessed back when they could be. However, I do know that our family didn’t come to England until 1889.”

“Our families certainly are interesting,” he said with a certain level of distaste.

Since your first year, Draco had proudly boasted that his family was better than so many others, something you had always despised about him. Therefore, it amused you to see him refer to his family in any way that didn’t display reverence. You would continue with the topic, but you were sure that the trees could hear you.

Draco continued to lead you through the maze until you found yourself in a peaceful little clearing covered in an assortment of small wildflowers, the clearing resembling a small meadow, and with the clouds gone and the sun shining, you found it to be particularly lovely. In the middle lay a blanket, a basket, and a series of foods and teas laid out.

You looked over at Draco once you registered it, “How in the world did you manage this?” You asked in disbelief of what was before you.

“House-elves are pretty crafty, Y/n,” he said, a proud smirk rising to his face, and you shook your head as you laughed.

He led you over to the blanket, where a floor pillow was situated amongst all of the treats. “Draco, this is too much,” you said as he sat down on his own cushion.

“Impossible,” he said, his smirk returning to his face. “Entirely impossible to be ‘too much’ when it comes to you, darling.”

The two of you broke into the expertly prepared food and tea as you continued talking about whatever came to mind, Draco complimenting you at any opportunity he found, about how the sun made your eyes sparkle, how he loved your laugh, and so on; and with every word he spoke to you, you found yourself falling further in love with him. His voice was a perfect melody you wished would never stop playing, his eyes twinkled when you were around, and he just had you absolutely entranced. And what was even better than watching his perfectly crafted hands pour you tea was watching him finally open up to you. For a while now, you had firmly believed that there was something more to him, that he was hiding his real self from you, and now you finally had proof. You planned on talking about it more when you got back to school as you were both afraid that the walls, the trees, and the paintings were listening in on you, but you were excited to see Draco Malfoy turn into the truly good person you knew existed within him. The person that existed out of his parents control.

As you finished eating, Draco placed all of the dishes into the basket before you, exchanging them for your still unfinished copy of Pride and Prejudice. Excited, you laid down with your head in Draco’s lap, basking in the sunlight, which you hadn’t seen since you left school, as he cracked open the book and begun to read. You only had a few chapters left, and you were quite excited for him to reach the end of the novel.

You listened attentively as he read; as always, you were able to refuse yourself the indulgence of listening to him speak, “Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much,” Draco read, turning the page and moving on to the next chapter. You cracked a smile, knowing that he would just adore what was to come.

“‘If you will thank me,’ he replied, ‘let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.’” you were excited by the joy and intention Draco was carrying in his voice, almost as if he had read ahead and practised, but when he skipped ahead a line, you knew something was up, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’” Draco read as he delicately placed a silver ring decorated with curving leaves and set with a small amber gem in the centre on the top of your hand, which was resting lazily on Draco’s calf.

In contrast with the warm sun, the cold metal shocked you as you realised that he was using Jane Austen to propose to you. Draco closed the book while keeping his thumb in between the pages as to not lose your place. He looked down at you with a smile that rivalled even the sun.

“My mother is going to make me propose in front of your parents during Christmas dinner,” he admitted as you rose into a sitting position and twisted to face him, immediately making and maintaining eye contact. “I wish we could wait, that we could have more time but, I have fallen too hard for you to allow anyone to force me to propose to you, you don’t deserve it in the least, and this is a moment that our parents shouldn’t be allowed to control.”

You placed the ring between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand and then guided it onto your ring finger on your left hand. “‘Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.’” You quoted the passage from memory in response to Draco, and as a way to say yes to his proposal. “Thank you, Draco, and I want you to know that if the situation had been different, I still would have said yes.”

Despite his bright smile, a tear slipped from the platinum-haired boy’s eye, startling you. You really hadn’t ever expected to see Draco Malfoy cry, even a solitary tear.

“Draco, dear, what’s wrong?” you asked as you wiped the tear away with your thumb, leaving your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Y/n, you’re being forced to marry someone who could get you killed,” he said, his voice lowering and becoming melancholy.

You sat up and turned to face him, taking his hands in yours, “It’s the opposite, you’re the one saving me from my parents. I don’t know what you mean,” you said, concerned at his sudden change in demeanour.

“He knows, he knows that I love you, and he’ll kill you if I don’t do what he’s asked me to do,” Draco said, his eyes cast down.

“Who, Draco?”

“Voldemort,” Draco whispered, barely audible. “He’s demanded that I kill Dumbledore by the end of the year in order to make up for my father’s mistakes at the ministry,” he admitted. “And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed what Draco told you, all of Harry’s theories finally making sense. Even more so, all of Draco’s nerves and mood swings over the year finally coming to light, why he had been so hesitant to admit his feelings for you, his possessive nature finally making sense.

“Y/n, you’re so good, such a good person,” he said as another tear slid down his cheek. “You are so much braver than I am. You were able to denounce all of this while I let them turn me into one of them.” You felt the pain in his voice resonate in your chest. “While I terrorised you and your friends, and even now as I plan to murder our headmaster, you continue to find a way to show me more kindness and love than I have ever experienced.”

“Draco, I love you, and you’re wrong. You aren’t them,” you whispered as you gestured to the manor. “If you were, you would have left me to bleed under my father’s boot. You wouldn’t have tried to protect me from him,” you said as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “I know that what you’re doing comes not from a place of evil but from necessity and that all will be right in the end because we will find a way to come out on the right side of the war. I promise that as long as we have one another, things will be okay.” You promised with all sincerity. “Now, the sun is setting, and it’s about to get frigid out here. I say we head back up to your room, and I finish reading Pride and Prejudice to you.”

“I thought that was my job,” he said, the smile slowly returning to his face.

“Well, I think that it is fair of me to want to cheer up my fiancé,” you said, matching his smile.

“Admittedly, I’ve wanted to hear your Mr. Darcy interpretation,” he teased.

“I don’t think it’ll be half as good as yours,” you admitted, glancing down at the ring on your finger, which wasn’t a symbol of the life you were losing but the love you were gaining. “Thank you for this, Draco.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he said as he reached a hand out to you, which he used to pull you up to your feet and into a kiss in which you melted into Draco. His lips were still warm from the sun and so soft on yours. When he pulled away, you sighed from the loss of touch, yet also in satisfaction.

You collected the remnants of the picnic, along with the book, which suddenly held so much more value in your eyes, and you followed Draco out of the maze and back to the Manor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in Draco that you completely forgot about the other residents of the mansion. Although, you were swiftly reminded as when you entered through the large, French style, doors you were affronted by a stoic-faced Narcissa occupying the centre of the room, clearly anticipating your return.

“Good evening, Narcissa,” you greeted warmly.

“Good evening,” she returned coldly. “Glad to see that your leg is better,” she said despite the terrible red scar that now obviously occupied your cheek. “Since tomorrow is Christmas, and essentially our final day together, I have the day planned to the minute. Throughout the morning, we shall be finalizing wedding plans, which require both of your thoughts. Then Draco, you will have time to complete your errand before you return to get ready for Christmas dinner with the Y/l/n’s. Sunday, the two of you will pack and prepare for your return to Hogwarts. We start our day at precisely eight.”

“We will see you at the dining table at eight then,” Draco matched her tone, clearly unfazed by his mother’s sudden coldness, which had uniquely caught you by surprise. This was a side of the woman you hadn’t seen yet.

“Good night, Narcissa,” you said, trying to push aside your shock as Draco pulled you out of the entryway and upstairs to his room.

When you made it inside, Draco closed the door behind you and looked you dead in the eyes, “tomorrow, you don’t get a second of alone time with them. No matter what, I’m by your side.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you smiled grimly, and he sighed in relief. “Now, lay down, dear. We have a book to finish.”

The two of you cuddled up into one another’s side as you finished reading the book aloud. To your satisfaction, just as you finished the book, Draco started prompting you to softly run your hands through his perfect platinum blonde hair, which in the days without styling or care had begun to curl into soft waves. At some point, you fell asleep with the light still on and your precious copy of Pride and Prejudice open on your lap. Yet, you slept that night without a nightmare or a negative thought, your mind and body entirely at peace wrapped up in Draco’s arms.

You awoke to bright morning light flooding into the room, which startled you as you still felt Draco by your side. You slowly drew yourself up and looked over to see Alexis, your wedding planner standing by your bed, assuming it had been her who had opened the curtains.

“Alexis?” You asked groggily, confused by her presence in your fiancé’s room. “Why aren’t you home? It’s Christmas.”

“Lady Malfoy asked me here,” she said. “She also asked me to retrieve you, miss, as well as Master Malfoy.”

You nodded, “we’ll get dressed and be down shortly.”

She responded with a bow of her head, then she swept out of the room, closing the door fast behind her.

“What in the world was that about?” Draco groaned, eyes still closed.

“Your mother sent the bloody wedding planner up here to wake us,” you said, in complete disbelief of Narcissa’s decision to do so.

“Mm-alright,” he said as he sat up, kissing you on the cheek before sliding out of bed.

“I’m going to slip into my room and grab a dress,” you said as you stretched out your arms before standing.

“Alright, darling,” Draco said as he disappeared into his closet to get dressed himself.

The two of you got ready relatively quickly, donning appropriately formal clothing and descended downstairs and into the dining room together, where Narcissa and Alexis were already talking, papers, linen samples, and photographs spread out amongst tea, fruits, and other miscellaneous breakfast items.

“Good morning,” you greeted as a polite way to announce your arrival.

“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you two,” Narcissa said, looking up as you entered the dining room. “Sit, we have a lot to get through.” While she wasn’t as cold as she was last night, she wasn’t the same kind motherly woman who had offered you her dress for your wedding.

You and Draco assumed seats next to each other as Narcissa occupied the head of the table and Alexis sat across from you. Immediately, you were bombarded with questions, confirmations that Draco liked the choices you had made last week, ornate changes Narcissa recommended, and series more decisions you had never considered went into wedding planning. Occasionally, you would lean over to Draco and whisper some joke or terrible comment into his ear, and he would have to stifle his laughter which inherently bothered both Alexis and Narcissa as they were suddenly convinced that neither of you was taking this seriously. As afternoon approached Narcissa dismissed Draco, much to your dismay you were left alone with the two women who buckled down on you the second he was gone.

Eventually, Narcissa dismissed you and Alexis, allowing you to go and change and for Alexis to finally make her way home. Although, you were convinced that she didn’t care about that, instead sticking to her oh-so-important schedule. You made your way up to your room, Draco nowhere to be seen, you slipped into your room where you found the black gown your mother had packed for this exact occasion; it even had a note on it that read, ‘wear for Christmas dinner.’ Not in any particular mood to disobey, you donned the dress. While it did not come with a corset, it was quite tight and held your core in as if it were one. After dressing, you sat in front of the vanity to don the face that would get you through the night. Despite the time you took on your hair and makeup, hoping you would waste enough time so Draco would be ready and you wouldn’t have to face whatever was downstairs alone. However, when you made your way down, you found both the entrance hall and the few sitting rooms to be empty, leaving you to admire the decorations that had gone up in the last hour you had been spending getting ready. Classical music was drifting through the first floor, and the decorations which were already there had been accompanied by more lavish ornaments circled throughout the space, which was almost entirely lit by warm candle-light. Had the manor not been another prison for you, you may have some capacity for admiration of its beauty.

“Oh, well, hello there,” you heard the sharp and twisted voice you hadn’t heard since the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

In response, you shot around to see Draco standing next to his Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange as they were standing in the entryway before you. “Lady Lestrange,” you said, bowing your head respectfully.

“Draco, this is the girl?” she asked her nephew as she crept towards you.

“Yes, Aunt Bellatrix, this is her, Y/n Y/l/n,” he spoke formally.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve been told that you’re a great witch,” you said, your head still bowed. To say that Lestrange intimidated you was a grand understatement.

“Enough flattery, girl, it will get you nowhere,” she said as she circled you, inspecting you.

“Bella,” Narcissa greeted warmly as she descended the stairs into the hall.

“Cissy,” Bellatrix responded, turning away from you to greet her sister.

You used the opportunity to make your way to Draco’s side, Bellatrix’s appearance at the dinner, both shocking and nerve-racking. Having to deal with your parents was one thing; Bellatrix Lestrange was a whole other beast.

“Watch your mind,” Draco muttered in your ear as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “She’s a powerful Occlmens.”

You nodded in response, watching as the sisters greeted each other. “How were your errands?” You asked.

“Fine, we can talk about them later.”

“What are we waiting for?” Bellatrix asked her sister, clearly unaware of the plans for the evening.

“The Y/l/n’s, Y/n’s parents are set to arrive in a matter of moments,” Narcissa said. “Then it will just be the six of us, an intimate affair.”

Perfect timing as always, your parents popped into the room through the grand fireplace, green smoke billowing around their feet.

“Hello, Narcissa, Bellatrix,” your father greeted the two witches. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yes, Happy Christmas, William,” Narcissa greeted, her warmth and kindness suddenly flooding back.

“Bellatrix, oh, I haven’t seen you since the summer. How have you been?” Your mother greeted.

“I have been quite well, Layah,” Bellatrix said, a note of sadism to her voice. “Lovely to see you both.”

“Let us make our way to the sitting room. I know we have quite a bit to discuss,” Narcissa said as she eyed Draco, likely referring to the proposal he was meant to make.

Everyone followed Narcissa into the sitting room, sifting out to where they were meant to sit. You and Draco on a loveseat near the Christmas tree, Bellatrix and Narcissa sitting on armchairs adjacent to one another, and your mother and father on a couch together. As you all situated yourselves flutes of champagne appeared at everyone’s side.

“Now, Narcissa I know you said that we weren’t focusing on gifts,” your father spoke up. “But I was thinking, and since Draco is to be my son-in-law, I thought it would be appropriate for me to give him this.” William rose and crossed over to where the two of you were sitting to hand Draco a long, elegantly wrapped, box.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, accepting the box.

“Go ahead and open it,” your father said jovially as he returned to his seat.

Draco split the wrapping along the seam, leaving a black jewellery box, opening it he revealed a silver wizard’s watch, the one your father had given to William for his seventeenth birthday. You swallowed your shock, refusing to show the pain that echoed in your heart on your face. Yet, you weren’t surprised at your father using Draco as a replacement for what he killed.

“Thank you, sir. It’ll be an honour to wear this.”

William beamed, twisting his face into a nasty smile, “I’m glad you think so, boy.”

“How kind of you, William,” Narcissa piped.

“Actually,” you chimed in. “While Draco and I were out last week, I picked this up for you. It’s small, but I thought it’d be nice for you to have them for the wedding.” You made your way across the room to hand Narcissa the impeccably wrapped, tiffany blue box. “And Draco got something for you as well, mother,” you said, then walking to her to hand her the black velvet jewellery box.

“Darling, you didn’t have to do this,” Narcissa smiled kindly as she opened the box.

You returned to your spot next to Draco, taking his hand in yours.

Narcissa pulled out the drop pearl earrings, the smile remaining on her face. “Y/n, this is so sweet, thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like them,” you said, returning her smile.

Layah opened her gift, revealing a fine diamond and emerald decorated bracelet that fit into her jewellery collection well. “Draco, this was quite thoughtful of you,” she said, her lack of gratitude bothering you.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head.

“Well, this is quite boring, isn’t it?” Bellatrix chimed in. “It’s a bit of a drag.”

“Is that because no one got you a gift, ma’am?” you asked sarcastically, quickly taking on the ‘ma’am’ as you noticed the gravity of you using such humour in that room.

Silence fell upon everyone in the room, and you could feel your parents sharp glare fall upon you instructing you that you had made a-

A shrill laugh erupted from Bellatrix’s throat, interrupting the concern that fell upon your shoulders, “Oh, maybe I underestimated you, seems you’re not so boring after all,” she said, then continued to giggle, causing Narcissa and your parents to join in with uncomfortable chuckles and false smiles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Draco said, standing up from his spot next to you. “If no one minds I would like to steal this moment to do something quite important.” Once he received looks or nods of recognition Draco turned to face you, bending down onto one knee, he looked up at you and knowing that only you could see his face he shared a bright, kind smile you had only seen when the two of you had been alone. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, throughout our years of knowing each other, growing up with one another, attending school together I only ever imagined a life with you. When my mother informed me of our arrangement I was overcome with delight at the prospect of joining hands with another great Wizarding family,” You were not surprised by the loveless and prideful nature of the proposal, this was not for you, it was for your father and for his mother. Draco pulled out a ring, something dark, ornate, and clearly ancient. “Now, it is with great admiration for you and your family that I ask you to be my wife,” he said, looking up at you expectedly.

“It would be my honour to uphold the noble name of Malfoy, and therefore the name of Y/l/n, through becoming your wife,” you said, the acceptance taught to you, forced down your throat, word for word by your mother. While you accepted, Draco slipped the engagement ring onto your bare ring finger, the one he had given you yesterday residing on the opposite hand for the time being. As he did so light, polite applause filled the room.

“The two of you do make a handsome couple,” Narcissa smiled, and you couldn’t tell whether or not the curving of her lips was genuine.

“Absolutely,” your mother hissed. “Draco, we are pleased to be inviting you into the family.”

Accolades for Draco, for you, and for the two of you as a couple continued on until dinner was announced. Dinner itself droned on for hours, and drinks afterwards droned on for hours, you felt as if you were a puddle by the time the evening was over. As usual, you spent most of the night silently observing those around you, although Bellatrix would occasionally drag you into conversation in an attempt to read you. The dinner was like the lunch before and the dinner before that, and every, single, individual, societal event you had attended in your life. You yearned to return to Draco’s room fall into his arms and shed the night, the terrible forced proposal, and the stank of society from your shoulders. Eventually and thankfully you did, both of you quick to wish ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘Goodnight’ to your parents as well as his mother and aunt. Then, of course, swiftly retreating to Draco’s bedroom. Both of you exhausted trading the confining clothing you wore throughout the evening for sweaters and pyjama pants, then collapsing onto the mattress and into one another’s arms.

The next morning you awoke first to find Draco’s arm draped over your torso, and his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled, happy to see him so peaceful, and terribly sad that you would have to disturb that peace. You slowly started running your hands through his wavy platinum blonde hair, taking in how handsome he looked as he slept.

“Merlin, it’s Sunday, isn’t it?” Draco asked.

“Yes, darling, it is.”

Draco emitted a pained groan and curled his arms around you to pull you tightly into him, “that means I won’t get to hold you like this ‘till June.”

You giggled at his pain, “I’m sure we will find a way, Draco.”

“You know, this is the worst thing about you being a Gryffindor,” he said with distaste. “If you were a Slytherin we wouldn’t have this issue.”

A pleasant smile rested on your face, “Draco, we wouldn’t have this issue if you were a Gryffindor,” you countered.

“As if, Y/n,” he scoffed, you laughed again, and Draco was sure that your laugh could rival the brightness of the sun. He drew away from only for a second so that he could kiss you and experience that brightness for himself. The kiss lasted for a blissful moment before he pulled away to take you in for just a moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he said, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You smiled up at him, “you’re too nice, Draco.”

“I am the complete opposite,” he countered and your smile widened.

“Come now, we have to get you packed,” you said, gesturing to his closet.

“Y/n, that sounds miserable,” he lamented.

“Darling, as badly as I want to lay in bed with you all day, I also wish to return to school.”

“Fine,” he said, dramatic as ever. “But only because I love you.”

“Thank you,” you said as you planted a swift kiss on his cheek before rolling out of the bed.

It didn’t take you long to get your things together since you didn’t bring much and because most of your things were staying at the Manor considering you were essentially moving in. When you finished, you helped Draco pack his things up, and you were sure to include some of his sweaters which you had come to love so much. After you were both done, you made your way downstairs where Narcissa was waiting.

You stood in front of the fireplace, excited to finally be leaving the terribly dark home. “Narcissa thank you again for having me. I am truly excited to return for summer,” you lied through your teeth, doing your best to make the statement as believable as possible. At the end of the term, you would go to your home for a day in order to pack up whatever you wanted to bring along with you to your new life. From then on you would reside at Malfoy Manor, at the very least until the end of the war, then it would be expected for you and Draco to live alone until Lucius handed the Manor over to his son. Unless of course, the war turned against Voldemort’s favour.

“Y/n, it was lovely getting to know you. I am incredibly excited for the wedding,” she responded and you smiled.

“So am I ma’am, and thank you for including me in so much of the planning.”

Narcissa nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“Well, you two have a good semester, and Draco, please write,” she said as she brushed her son’s shoulder as many mother’s do.

“Of course, mother,” he said before turning to you. “Y/n, would you like to go first?”

You nodded, “thank you again, Narcissa.” And with that, you stepped into the fireplace with floo powder in hand, “Hogwarts!” You shouted clearly, disappearing in a green cloud with Draco not far behind.

To your surprise, you found yourself in Professor McGonagall’s office. You quickly became aware of your surroundings, and dusted the powder off of your jeans before stepping out of her fireplace and onto her carpet. “Hello Professor, I hope you had a happy holiday.”

“Thank you, Miss. Y/l/n, it was nice, quiet without Mr. Potter around to stir the pot,” she said as she looked up, a warm smile on her face.

“Well he is known for that, isn’t he,” you conceded, knowing you were often a part of the trouble.

“Dear, Y/n, your face, what happened?” McGonagall’s face twisting into concern as she noticed the still fresh raised red scar reaching across your face.

“Oh,” you raised a hand to touch the scar, having forgotten to come up with an excuse for the visibly wound. “Just a freak cooking accident, it seems I-I manage just as much trouble when I’m home as when I’m here,” you said, adding a fake laugh to try and convince her that all was fine, although you were sure she could read right through you.

“Y/n, if you need anything,” she said, her eyes falling on the engagement ring on your finger. “Please feel free to speak to me.”

“Thank you, Professor, I’m going to go unpack now,” you said, wanting desperately to get out of the awkward situation.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you in class Tuesday.”

You nodded, and swiftly left her office, making your way to the Gryffindor common room in the hopes of finding Harry, Ron, and Hermione, knowing you had a lot to explain. When you got to the common room, you were disappointed to discover that you were the first to arrive. You sufficed yourself to grabbing some food in the Great Hall, figuring if anyone was looking for you that would be an easy place to find you. However, your journey downstairs was swiftly interrupted.

“Y/N!” You heard Harry’s voice, and you turned around, excited to see your friend.

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what happened to your face?” Ron asked as you turned to face them.

“Seriously, Ronald?” Ginny scolded her brother.

“No, it’s fine, it was just my father,” you explained. The three of them knew plenty about your parent’s abuse.

“Merlin, he’s never-” Harry started, but you cut him off.

“I know, I’d really rather not get into it, it’s not like it’s a happy memory.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to say.

“Holy shit! Y/n is that an engagement ring?!” Ginny exclaimed, rushing over to you and grabbing your left hand to examine your ring finger.

“Why don’t we go to the common room and we’ll talk about the holiday there,” you said firmly, uncomfortable having this conversation in the middle of a hallway.

“That's probably a good idea,” Harry said, and the four of you made your way back towards the common room, and for extra precaution, you went up to the boy’s dorm which was empty, and thankfully didn’t smell as it often did since the boys hadn’t had the opportunity to stink it up just yet.

“So, how was Malfoy Manor?” Ginny asked teasingly as you all found places to sit around the room, you and Ginny taking Harry’s bed; mutually refusing to trust Ron’s.

“Well to make a long story short, the scar was caused by my father finding our letters, and according to tradition, Draco had to propose to me with our families present, and with his family ring. So, they had him propose last night,” you explained. “Malfoy Manor is a terrifying place, but I have been before,” you thought, and you knew you couldn’t just say that Draco was assigned by Voldemort to murder Dumbledore which is why he had been acting so weird, but you weren’t sure otherwise how to explain to your friends why Draco acts the way he does, and that he really is a good guy.

“What did Malfoy tell your dad about the letters?” Ron scoffed.

“No, of course, he didn’t,” you bit. “My father just spies on me. Draco is actually the reason my father didn’t end up killing me, and he really isn’t such a bad guy.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no way we are talking about the same guy who terrorised us at dinner and announced to the entire school that you were snogging Harry just a few weeks ago,” Ginny countered, and Harry’s face turned beet red.

“We’re talking about Malfoy, I presume?” Hermione asked as she entered the room.

“Hermione!” you greeted her warmly, excited to see her.

“Hello everyone,” she said as she assumed a seat near you. “So, what did I miss?”

Ginny quickly summarised the conversation thus-far, "And I don’t trust Malfoy in the least,” she said, shooting you an irritated look.

“Well I do, and considering it is my life I have no control over, I think that I get to at least decide whether or not I trust him. Anyways he’s proved himself over the holiday, and that’s all that matters, eh?”

“I still think you’re marrying a Death-Eater,” Harry said, confident in his accusation, which you of course knew was correct.

“And what if I am?” you asked. “Harry I am also the child of Death-Eater’s. Not only that, but my parents made it very clear that if I don’t marry him, I’m dead. And wouldn't you rather, when this war happens you have someone on the inside with your interest at heart? Harry I would rather die fighting for a cause than fighting myself.”

Everyone paused for a moment, it was oftentimes easy to forget the gravity of the situation you were all in, but your words made your friends conscious of everything for a moment.

“You all know where I stand,” you said, your eyes were watering, but your voice was firm. “And I intend on fighting with you; I just won’t be able to do so by your side. I assume you already knew that.”

“We just always hoped it would somehow turn out differently, Y/n,” Hermione said honestly. “But of course we understand.”

“Then you’ll also understand that this is likely my last term at Hogwarts,” you said, your voice lower this time.

“Yes,” Harry said quietly.

“So you’ll understand why I want this conversation to end and why I just want to spend time with my friends?” You asked as a tear dripped down your cheek.

Ginny wrapped you in a hug, Hermione quickly joining in, and you wiped the tear from your face. “We love you,” Ginny muttered, and you squeezed her tightly in response.

“What are you two doing over there?” Hermione chided Ron and Harry, ignoring her own tears. “Get over here and join the bloody hug!”

The boys both shook their heads, trying their best to push back their own emotions and joining the three of you in the hug which was quickly turning into a dog pile.

“Anyways, Draco is on our side,” you breathed.

Part 7 - Coming Soon

Tags!

Everything - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

Silver Letter - @hidejeon @Ravenclawgurl137 @unexpectedly-slytherin @missmercurymoon @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker@pillowjj@pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily@lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth@bubblesam06@voidnarnia @bethii1 @arthemis-o-negative@roseyrams@treestarrrrrrrr @streetfighterrichie @dreams-in-blxck @psychramt @dracofeltonmalfoy @weasleydream @rottenhexrt@daringvixon @thatguppienamedbae @lord-byron

#draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #the silver letter #red writes #arranged marriage fic #arranged marriage au

199 notes · View notes

sanstropfremir · 3 years ago

Note

would love to hear ur thoughts re. these street woman fighter's performances and who you would personally vote as the "better dance crew" in how they interpreted each other choreos and the song.

this was for their first elimination round (ep4) and it was interesting to hear from the judges + why they gave the points they did. (i'm not entirely sure if you're watching the show's episodes. they are roughly 2 hours long. so if you would like more context, pls let me know! i wrote brief comments underneath each one as well as the winners [spoilers ahead!]. assuming you are not: for this mission, each crew is paired with another crew and they have to choreograph one of the soloist songs. songs were "split" into two parts: part one [would be one song] and part two [another song]; one crew would choreograph one part and follow the other's crew choreograph for the other part.)

1. boa - eat you up (want choreo) + better (ygx choreo). dance crews: ygx vs want

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCfK_qWAhM0&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: ygx. boa gave 151 pts to ygx and 49 pts to want (the biggest gap in points between crews), sharing that although want choreographed eat you up, ygx was more cohesive (pointing to how want wore hats and it was messy). additionally, ygx had better stage presence and was able to capture the camera more. also, because ygx is the only crew to have a b-girl and use it in their routine, the judges applauded want for doing the best they can.

2. cl - doctor pepper (wayb) + hello bitches (prowdmon). dance crews: prowdmon vs wayb

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEEpZ9SrvaE&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: prowdmon. judges shared that doctor pepper's routine is a trademark of wayb and that they should have been the standout. however, they felt like prowdmon did it better.

3. hyuna - crazy (4minute) (coca n butter) + i'm not cool (hook) + lip and hip (hook). dance crews: hook vs coca n butter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1ikpPKEA30&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: hook. the two dance crews are VERY different in terms of style. coca n butter is described to be more hip-hop while hook is definitely more reflective of the current/newer trends. (when hook was first introduced in the show, they were known as the crew who was famous only for tiktok dances.) the judges shared that hook was more fun and interesting, given their stylistic choice of wearing the pink wigs. whereas it seemed for coca n butter, they felt like something was lacking (they showed something but it didn't feel they did.)

4. jessi - what type of xx (lachica) + nununa (holybang) + gucci (holybang). dance crews: holybang vs lachica

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtZzI11oyqc&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: lachica. (this was the only battle where both crews came in v close pts. whereas for the other crews, there were huge point-gaps.) judges had a hard time choosing, sharing that for lachica they were more detail-oriented while holybang had better teamwork.

imo, i agree with the judges' choices. though i would have to say i think wayb did their routine (doctor pepper) better than prowdmon. they stood out to me then, but when it came to the second part (hello bitches), prowdmon was better. i loved lachica's performance - it was v clean + reminded me of something a kpop group would do (which like, the crew largely works with kpop acts like chungha, boa's better, etc. so it makes sense).

this was LONG. thank u if u do read it and post! i miss the kingdom "era" when u would post weekly reviews. the two are v different but this new mnet competition show is the only one i'm invested in. i'm not sure if it's big internationally? i know it is v popular in korea right now. while i've only seen i-fans talk about the show as it relates to chaeyeon (want) because she's an idol. - swf (streetwomanfighter) anon :]

omg this is so long and well organized, forget me writing reviews anon you should do it!! i'm not currently watching the full episodes but i've been catching the few clips that pop up in my youtube recommended occasionally, so i definitely don't have all the context but i'll take a crack at it!

ok so my assumption/from what i can tell, they have a bit of leeway to alter the competing group's choreo as needed to better suit numbers and formations. i also went and found the individual versions of these because why did they make them so small on the split screen, don't they know i'm old and wear glasses. also: MNET FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY STOP MOVING THE FUCKING CAMERA. WE DO NOT NEED SCROLLING VERTICAL BOOM SHOTS OF THIS. just keep the same lens at eye level it's really not that hard. this is like, one of the worst possible ways to shoot dance it is SO annoying. ok i'm done bitching about that let's go.

1. boa - ygx vs want i agree with the big point gap on this one, and i think want made a couple of choices that were not cohesive enough, and obviously they also got set up to fail by ygx. actually i think both groups made choices that were not particularly good, but ygx had more of the skills to back up what they were doing than want did. breaking is very difficult and requires a lot of upper body strength and a higher centre of gravity, which are two physical traits that are less common in women. personally i wouldn't have tried to break to better because although boa songs do have more of a beat than other idol music, it's still not at all the right type of music for breaking. it's gotta be fast, breakers rely on speed, because it's all about momentum; they're literally throwing themselves around the stage. here's the final from battle pro 2019 for example. the music is basically beats only; heavily lyric based music, like idol music, is bad for battling in general because there isn't a lot of consistency. i have more to say about this but i'm getting off track. basically by choosing to handicap the other team (because they don't have a bgirl at all) they shot their own bgirl in the foot because the song is too slow to properly show off her skills. i applaud want for making bold choices, like the hatwork and attempting the breaking, but ultimately when combined with their styling the performance looks disjointed. also they have some formation cohesion issues that make it look a bit like they'e struggling to keep up, even with their own choreo.

2. cl - prowdmon vs wayb i agree with the judges, i think prowdmon bodied the wayb choreo. i actually thought that was their choreo at first. they have the best presence that i've seen of all the groups and the performative "hard bitch" attitude fit in with their genre setting. wayb had several mistakes and synchronization issues that in my opinion made them look sloppy in comparision to prowdmon, who were sharper and had two more people to put into formations. 3. hyuna - hook vs coca n butter ok personally i don't like either of these choreos, but i'm agreeing with the judges here, i think hook's was the mildly more engaging. i can tell that they're very young and do mostly short form tiktok content because i see a lot of eye catching moves, but i don't see a lot of strong connective tissue between those moves. they have good ideas but they also really struggle with putting people into formation and balancing it out well. it doesn't help that they're a seven member crew going up against a four member one, so they have three extra people to figure out what to do with. there's a lot of empty space where there are members waiting in position for a group formation. it also doesn't help at all that they (mnet) appear to just be rawdogging the songs together without any kind of mixing, which is a huge detriment to groups that have to choreograph for two in their section. i'm not cool and lip and hip have two totally different feels and kudos to hook for at least trying to get them to at least visually be cohesive when mnet is go girl giving us nothing sonically. coca n butter has much more of an old school hip hop style, so putting these two up against each other was (probably a random lot draw) an interesting choice. personally i would have been more interested to see hook against want with the boa tracks and ygx against coca n butter with the hyuna tracks. however, i think the reason why coca n butter's stage felt like it was lacking is because they tried to emulate hyuna, without having the stage presence or the weirdness of hyuna. it feels like they're trying too hard and there isn't really any personal character in the piece, versus with hook, who embodied hyuna's weirdness a little more authentically and took a completely different direction. 4. jessi - lachica vs holybang lachica took this one easily, although their formations were a bit wonky for nununana, they covered it fairly well and i think they managed the best transition between songs (between nununana and gucci). they were sharper with good stage pictures and had a good gimmick with the double fringe on the gloves and hats. holy bang had some issues fitting their extra person into the what type of x choreo, but they did well with their own choreo. however, like with coca n butter and hook, because lachica took a new visual spin, this felt too derivative of jessi, so it wasn't that interesting for me to watch. i do think they are one of the groups on the stronger end of skills and presence. --- as far as visually what performances i liked the best, since would this even be a writeup by me if i didn't talk about design, here's a quick breakdown:

prowdmon - got some rudimentary setpieces, got a theme, got some fun variations on a uniform look; excellent for what i assume was limited budget capacity and also it's a dance crew show.

lachica - great continuity of effect in costuming with the fringe, and using the gloves as a mouth/lip effect was one of the most interesting choices of these routines.

hook - the pink wigs and the black latex on the checkered floor was a nice gimmick that was a bit of a nod to hyuna's weird without being too derivative. i'm not expecting a whole lot because these are dance crews but i think this was a decent amount of styling effort.

want - they made a bold choice with the hats and even though it didn't quite pay off for them i still respect it.

coca n butter/ygx/holybang/wayb - ygx and wayb did basic hip hop type styling and while it's absolutely fine, it's just boring. holybang went for a directly inspired jessi look, and although yes bodysuits, overall it wasn't that interesting either. coca n butter get props for doing a costume change and actually incorporating that into the choreo but it feels too much like it's trying to be hyuna weird with the caution tape strapped over their tits and asses.

---

as a final note/question to you, my lovely invested swf anon, what's the format of the show? are there stages like this every episode to review? if these were from the fourth one only, is there anything worth me reviewing in the first three? i'm not particularly interested in the aggressive competitive nature of the show and editing so i don't particularly want to watch the full two hour episodes, but if you think it's worthwhile for me to review stuff then i will. otherwise if there's a set structure (like with kingdom) i can seek out the stages specifically and review them if i know what i'm looking for.

#street woman fighter #swf #swf reviews #i dont really know what the international reception is. the very few people ive seen talking about it on twt #have been insane kpoppies disrespecting boa. so not the best ifan showing so far #am i back in my review era already???? we shall see #(while i still have like EIGHT different asks left. if you wonder why im taking so long to get to some of them. that is why)#(OH plus the first half of the stylings post. and the fabled fave choreos post. so many things in my drafts rn)#(but also please dont stop sending me questions it makes me very happy. the gerbil in my brain is just slow)#dear anon who just asked me about red lights and kink. mwah you are welcome to slide into my dms anytime you like #wait by putting kink in the tags did i just invite a bunch of pornbots onto this #whatever lmao #might need to start a new organizational tag for this because it's only kpop adjacent. thoughts for later #text #answers #ngl these group names are gonna drive me insane. why are all dance crew names so fucking weird

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hongism · 5 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ one

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.5k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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mists of celeste act one ➻ part one

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"You said that you're with the military? I don't recall the military having ships as small as yours." If possible, your eyes would roll all the way back in your head at the man's comment. Instead, you plaster a smile on your lips, gaze flitting around the bridge as you do.

"Yes, Ambassador Salvadore. They sent me on a transport ship, as I am here to relieve the captain of his duties—"

"That is not necessary, Miss."

"—on military orders, Ambassador." Your grin continues to stretch as you gauge the state of the bridge. It is severely lacking in terms of soldiers, which is good for you on multiple fronts, but the ambassador before you is proving to be more difficult than you first anticipated.

"Well, that is quite unfortunate then, seeing as I will never have a woman command my ship even if on supposed "military orders". Which division did you say you were from?" The ambassador is too much of a skeptic; he must be old enough to have witnessed – perhaps even taken part in – the First Military Revolt in 2143 when the first female Fleet Admiral was inaugurated, but you don't have time to argue politics with an old man.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Ambassador. It's military orders, whether you like it or not. We are beyond the days of sexist remarks about women commandeering ships, are we not?" You bite out. The smile on your lips falters a bit, and the older man's gaze hardens on you.

"Where are your papers? I need proof of your purpose here, as well as a written record of your orders."

One hand slips down your thigh, brushing the holster where your pistol sits, but you bring it back up upon second thought.

"Papers were not given, sir. The HMS Revenge is less than 50 thousand megameters from Eros and as such, my commander did not think it necessary to send me out with papers." You bring your hands behind your back to resist the urge of putting a bullet between the ambassador's eyes, clasping them tightly and glaring at the grey-haired man before you. Whether he believes your words or not is unimportant, because he can't seem to stay focused on the topic at hand anyways.

"Where is your seal? What rank are you? Your division? The name of your commander so that I can have a word with him once we dock on Eros again?"

"I am wearing my seal, sir, along with my uniform. As for your other questions, I believe that if it were a man standing before you, you would ask nothing of him, Ambassador. Thus I do not feel inclined to answer any of your questions." The old man's eyes rake over your form, and once again, you feel your fingers itching to reach for your pistol as he stares. Biting down hard on the tip of your tongue, you push the desire back and grin back at the man. The uniform you're currently wearing fits awkwardly – baggy at the shoulders and waist, along with sleeves that keep falling past your wrists when you let go of them, and overall it's a bit obvious that the uniform did not originally belong to you. The excuse you can think of on the spot is that you were given a recycled uniform, but considering how stubborn and skeptical Ambassador Salvadore is, you don't think you'll be able to slip through with that lie.

"Your uniform looks like it was taken from the garbage," the man states, confirming your concerns. You sigh then open your mouth to retort but he cuts you off before you have the chance. "You are one soddy excuse for a pirate, girl. One woman against an entire crew? A fool's errand if anything. Not at all some grand heist."

"I am not a pirate," you spit back between gritted teeth. "I am merely here on military business. Nothing more, nothing less."

"You see, Miss, that is actually not true. You cannot be here on military business because I would've been informed beforehand. No one elected to inform me of a change in the captainship, however. Thus, you must either be a pirate of another sort of criminal." The man takes a few steps forward, risking to be within a couple feet of you now, and you note the lack of weapon on him. He walks with a slight limp, no doubt a bummed knee from early military days that he never had surgery on, and his left foot drags a bit along the floor as he walks over. "Besides, your face looks quite familiar, Miss. Have I seen you on a bounty paper before?"

"I highly doubt that," you whisper. Eyes dare to meet yours, and you pass a sinister smirk his way before uttering your next words. "I make a note to not leave anyone alive once they've seen me." His eyes widen.

"Grab her!"

You bring your hand to your holster with the intention to use the weapon this time, but somehow the man is quicker. Well, his men are quicker. One comes from behind you – the guard who brought you to the bridge when you boarded – and another comes from your right, grabbing your arm before you have the chance to pull out your gun.

"Cute trap, ambassador. Think of it all by yourself?"

"In fact, I did. Didn't take much thought since all pirates are the same."

"This is a mistake, ambassador. You really don't want to be doing this, I promise. And I'll remind you again: I am not a pirate." You don't waste your time struggling against the grip of the men around your arms. Instead, you glare at the old man in front of you as though it'll get you out of this predicament faster. You get what you asked for, just not in the way you were wanting or expecting. The cool touch of a gun barrel finds your temple.

"Then you're a fugitive. Or a criminal. A pirate is no different. You all bleed the same, so there's no point in making useless distinctions."

"You bleed the same too, ambassador."

"Kill her."

You brace yourself for the worst, hoping at least for a swift and painless death, but it doesn't come right away. The ground quakes underneath you, then everything jerks for a moment. In a split second, the lights dim and flash red, sirens begin to wail throughout the bridge, and you spot the captain scrambling to return to his post. The ship wobbles, and as it does, your captors lose their balance. You seize the moment, yanking your limbs from their grasp and slamming the back of your head against the man behind you. A sickening crunch follows along with a scream of pain. The man on your left is already beginning to recover his balance so you have to work fast and swing your elbow against his jugular before he can fire his gun. He crumples under the attack and clutches at his throat while you swing around to deliver a similar blow to the soldier behind you as well.

"Captain, report! What is happening?" The ambassador yells, scampering back as you grab the gun from the man beside you.

"I can answer that for you," you huff. Your chest heaves from the sudden burst of exertion, and you rise to your feet slowly. The ship lurches again, sending the crew careening backward, but you steady yourself by ducking down. "You're being boarded by actual pirates. And in my time in the black seas, I've only seen one crew use this boarding tactic."

"Who? Tell me now, girl!"

"Give me control of the ship now or you're not getting out of this mess alive," you say, taking several steps towards the ambassador.

"Absolutely not. I would rather see this ship blown to pieces before she falls into the hands of a pirate."

"She'll be in the hands of a pirate regardless!" You argue, and your tone grows incredulous when the old man glares at you.

"They're pirates. They don't stand a chance against soldiers from the Royal Military," he sneers before turning on his heel and walking towards the captain.

"Holy fuck… it's the Scourge of the Black Sea." It's another crew member who mutters the words, gun no longer aimed at you but just past your shoulder, and you whip upon hearing the name. You had seen the Scourge's file many many times, yet none of the pictures included in it were accurate in the slightest now that you are face to face with the man.

Kim Hongjoong, barely older than you yet still the most notorious pirate in the galaxy. Scourge of the Black Sea, a moniker that serves him well, but seeing him before you now changes that. First of all, he's not nearly as tall as you pictured him to be. The files never shared details about his height or hair color or anything like that, but you somewhat expected the infamous Scourge of the Black Sea to be of intimidating height; however, the three men standing around him are all taller than him, although not by a drastic amount. Still, you weren't expecting the man to look as young as he does. Someone with a track record like his surely would seem much older than his profile depicts him to be. You can't call him out for his age since you are younger than him yourself but after years of expectations about what this infamous pirate would be like, you feel a bit let down. His gaze is piercing and harsh, but a gleam in his eyes shelters playfulness. Behind that sharp gaze lies dark eyes, so dark they almost seem black from the angle you're standing at. Beyond that though, you don't find yourself scared at the sight of him at all.

He doesn't look your way, in fact, he glances past you as though you don't exist. Someone else is looking directly at you, however, and it's his gaze that redirects your focus. You don't recognize him – or the other two men with the Scourge for that matter – but he has distinct features. Cat-like eyes, upturned and wide, alongside a captivating smile that's a bit too bright for your liking. His grin is strange, but hair even stranger – a solid head of black except for one section at the front of his head cut out like a slice of pure white strands. His gaze doesn't falter, remaining locked on yours as you continue to analyze him. It's almost as though he seems to know you and who you are, a knowing quirk in his expression.

"More fucking pirates on my ship!"

You maintain a stare with the man beside the Scourge rather than turning to look back at the ambassador again.

"Now, now..." Hongjoong cuts through the terse silence across the bridge, voice booming throughout the room with little effort. He takes one, then two steps forward, the jacket around his shoulders sweeping back with the movement. It's only two steps, and yet you feel the intimidating aura radiating off of the man in those small movements. "All I want is what's in the cargo hold. Give me what I want, and I'll spare your men."

"Open fire soldiers!"

"I guess we're gonna do this the hard way then," Hongjoong mutters as the soldiers scattered throughout the bridge raise their weapons. That's your cue to duck out of the way. As fascinating as the boy with cat-like features may be, you would rather not be riddled with bullets because you were too focused on staring at him. You have no doubts that the Scourge would shoot right through you, and you're going to have to move fast to get what you're wanting without trouble from him. You push forward, running directly at a soldier off to your left, then the gunfire begins to ring in your ears along with the alarm.

It doesn't take much effort to wrestle the gun from its owner. One swift kick to the side of his knee and a fist to his nose suffices, and the weapon falls into your hands. You slam the butt of the gun against his cheekbone, not waiting for him to fall to the floor before you're pushing past him to get into the captain's cabin.

"Fucking hell," you curse under your breath when the door snaps shut behind you.

Gunfire and alarms still ring outside the door. You aren't sure how long the gunfire is going to last, but your getaway ship leaves when it's over meaning that you need to move quickly. Papers are strewn all across the captain's desk, but the ones you're looking for won't be lying about. You drop the rifle to the desk and squat down to be eye level with the drawers, clicking the first open.

"Where are you?" You mutter to yourself as you file through the mess in the drawers. Digging to the back, your fingers close around a bundle of papers. You yank them forward, seeing a neat red ribbon tied around the middle along with a wax seal placed directly over the thread. It bears the Royal Insignia of Eros. You sigh at the sight, one finger trails over the ridges of the wax, and you read the words across the front to yourself. "Papers of Free Travel and Safe Conduct. Signed by the king." A small, raspy laugh escapes your lips. Despite the chaos of gunfire and alarms blaring around you, you can't help but feel a wave of calm wash over you.

"Put the papers down, pirate." You glance up, eyes fixating on the door, and spot the ambassador glaring you down. You tuck the letters into your shirt, your free hand gliding across the desk to grab for the rifle you set down.

"Sorry old man. I'm leaving with these papers. It doesn't matter whether you're dead or alive to me." You lift the rifle and point it at the man's head without hesitation. "Cross me, Ambassador Salvadore. You won't live to see the end of it."

"The papers or your life," he spits back, shakily lifting his own pistol. Perhaps you were wrong about his endeavors in the military previously, or maybe he's just that terrified of you.

"Did you misunderstand me? Step aside. The pirates with the Scourge already killed all your men, didn't they? My guess is they're on the way to the cargo hold and plan to kill every soldier along the way. Do you want to join the corpses?" You let the gun slip down a little. The ambassador quakes under your movements but shakes his head once you finish speaking. "Then step aside."

He does as told, moving away from the door as you keep your gun trained on him. You don't dare look away from him, too wary of him being trigger happy or trying to jump you once you get closer to the door. The cool touch of metal hits your back, and you feel around for the touchpad beside the door.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks once you lower your gun.

"I want my freedom. I don't care what I have to do to get it."

"So you're going to kill me anyway then?"

"No. I'll leave that for the Scourge. They say he doesn't take prisoners." You turn away, slamming your palm against the door control. As it slides open, you pass one last glance to your dear ambassador. Eyes stretch wide as he lifts his pistol again, and you're forced to duck away as best you can. Either you're too slow or he's too quick. The resounding echo of a pistol shot follows, and you barely register that you've just been hit until a burning sensation sears through your right arm. If not for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would be crumpled on the ground in pain. It's a good thing for that too because you don't have much time to sneak aboard your getaway ship.

The ambassador doesn't follow you out, and you don't stop to check your wound before darting after the trail of dead bodies.

"Shit shit shit," you hiss under your breath. Warm blood begins to trickle down your arm, making the fabric of your ill-fitting uniform cling to your skin. If your studies of Kim Hongjoong's tactics are correct, he should've docked his ship along the corridor to the ballistics bay, and your studies must be accurate because there is one living person near the end of the corridor. Guarding the docking station. With a gun. Just your luck.

"Hongjoong, there's a—" You chuck your rifle at him, catching the man off guard, and he stumbles back to dodge your weak attack. Killing him would be foolish and far too suspicious, but you're doomed in hand to hand combat with a gunshot wound in your dominant arm. "Fuck. There's a girl here, she's—" You cut him off again, sweeping a foot under his and bringing him to the floor. His gun clatters to the side. You bring your left hand down in attempts to punch him, but he catches you by the wrist before you can make contact. The fabric of your sleeve slides a bit, you panic, and with frantic movements, you try to pull out of his grasp. The two of you freeze where you are and merely stare at each other for a moment. Then he grabs for his gun again, whipping a leg up to rail you in the side. You hiss at the impact but manage to kick his gun away before he can grab hold of it.

"Seonghwa? Seonghwa, repeat." The voice comes from the man's form, no doubt the wristband that glows as the audio comes through. You scramble for your pistol, crying out in pain as your muscles flex at the spot of your wound, but manage to bring the butt of the gun against the man's temple before he has the chance to respond to his captain. "Seonghwa. Are you there? I repeat, are you there?"

You sit up, a slight stumble in your steps as you get back to your feet. The man – Seonghwa, most likely – doesn't move, but you can see the staggered rhythm of his breaths as his chest heaves. He'll get away with a headache and minor concussion at best, which is better than being dead for certain.

"Shit." The voice crackles through Seonghwa's wristband, and you can barely hear it over the still-blaring alarms in the ship. "Yeosang, come in. Go check up on Seonghwa. Kill anyone in your way. We aren't here to make friends." You step over the man's unconscious body, glancing into the ship on the other side.

"Cargo bay, cargo bay. Surely you have signs on your ship, Scourge," you mutter as you step onto the foreign spaceship. "Can't be much different than a military ship, right?" You slip your pistol back into its holster, right hand still dancing over the grip despite the pain radiating from that arm. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off, and the more you walk the more you feel the pain. Thankfully, the ship is smaller than anticipated. It's only a short trip to reach the cargo bay, no elevators either, which surprises you. You had initially imagined that the infamous Scourge of the Black Sea would have a ship that's a bit more difficult to sneak onto and carry stowaways, but perhaps you overestimated him.

The cargo bay is littered with boxes. Some are stacked all the way to the ceiling, while others remain strewn about, all evenly spaced. Despite the volume of boxes, there isn't much space left in the bay. No doubt, they'll decide to make port on one of the trading planets soon to sell off all the stolen cargo, meaning that you'll be able to escape then. Hopefully with relative ease too because otherwise, you're going to be trapped on the ship of one of the most merciless pirates in the galaxy.

Slipping between the rows of boxes, your gaze trails over each label. Guns, ammunition, meats, produce, textiles, spices, crafting tools – there seems to be a box for every object in existence. You pause beside a box labeled fabrics and thumb at the clasps, clicking them open to reveal the contents. It's only about half full of spools, more than plenty enough room for you to fit inside, and it would be marginally more comfortable than a crate full of guns. You glance around the cargo bay first, eyes scanning the walls and ceiling for any signs of cameras before you duck into the crate.

It's a tight fit, a bit too cramped for comfort, but of course, comfort isn't a luxury you can afford to bitch about at the moment. The searing pain radiating from your right arm is a bigger concern, especially considering that it is getting worse and worse with each passing moment. You bring a finger to your arm, feeling around for an exit wound on the opposite side; however, you can't find one despite all your prodding. Meaning that the bullet is still lodged in your arm.

"Fucking shit," you curse under your breath. Your arm falls to the bed of fabrics limply. One fucking ambassador with a shaky hand is not going to send you to your grave because of a damn bullet in your arm, and you'd sooner tear the bullet out with your own fingers.

"Deliver the boxes here!" The sudden intrusion of voices stops your fingers from reaching for the wound, however, and you instead press your left palm over the wound in attempts to slow the bleeding. "If you're done getting beat up by soldiers, that is." The voice no doubt belongs to the Scourge, but the next one is less familiar.

"She wasn't a fucking soldier. I told you that." A grunt follows along with the thud of something heavy. It takes a few moments for you to realize that the "she" is, in fact, you, and the person Hongjoong is speaking to must be the man you clobbered at the docking station. "No way she was military. She had a uniform but when we were fighting, I caught her arm and there were chains branded on the inside of her wrist." Your eyes widen despite only seeing darkness around you. Subconsciously, you tighten your grip around your wound, the image of chains branded onto your skin the only thing you can see.

"You still got your ass handed to you."

"Yeah well, maybe she ought to join the crew since she's able to kick my ass."

"Why would a military traitor be of any use to me?" Silence answers the question, and Hongjoong continues speaking, his clear voice ringing loudly in your ears as though he's right next to you. "Who says that military traitor won't betray me too?"

"I don't recall you saying that about our dear Royal Betrayer when he joined the crew. Besides, a prejudice against the military does not equal a prejudice against any sort of leadership."

"Oh, is that so? Would you like to go back onto that ship and get her? If you're so adamant about her joining my crew, why don't you do that?"

"No sir. I wouldn't like to do that. I am merely trying to be logical. We've lost over half our crew in the past two months, either due to death or desertion. Hongjoong, you really need to consider bringing mo—"

"You need to consider your position on this ship," Hongjoong cuts in, voice dropping in volume and turning to venom. "You are Lieutenant, not Captain. I am the Captain. Is that not clear?"

"Crystal clear."

"I will consider bringing more crewmates in when I deem it necessary. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain. It was merely a suggestion. Nothing else." Quiet falls between the men, air so tense you could cut it with a knife even from your position in this crate. "What of the survivors, Captain?"

"Kill them all. Destroy the ship as well. I don't want to see a single trace of the HMS Revenge. We got what we needed. Nothing else matters."

You shift and twist in the crate, trying to adjust into a more comfortable position only to slam your arm against the side of the wood. A sharp hiss escapes your lips before you can stop it. Teeth sink into your lower lip as you attempt to contain the sound but the damage is already done.

There's silence outside the crate.

Your heart thrums loud, erratic beats against your eardrums.

Two seconds meld into five, then ten seconds pass in silence. You hear no sounds of movement, no scraping of shoes or thumps of boots.

"You don't have to do this, Hongjoong," the second voice speaks at last. "As you said, we got what we needed. We can just leave now."

"I do have to do this, Seonghwa. If I don't kill a man every now and then, no one fears me."

"What of the trail of corpses aboard that ship right now? Is that not enough fear for you? Do you think their families and friends wait at home afraid of you?”

"I gave you an order, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Captain." Footsteps resound, the clanking of boots against metal flooring, and the sound grows fainter until you can't hear anything except the thud of your heartbeat in your ears and the rasps of your breath. You don't risk lifting the lid of the crate yet, not until you're absolutely certain that the two men have left the cargo hold. You lie in the darkness, listening to nothing except the faint sounds of your own breathing for god knows how long.

When you finally creak the lid open, there is only more darkness surrounding you. The lights throughout the cargo bay are dimmed, leaving you to feel your way around the crate to little avail. The blood on your hand has grown sticky from the length of time you've been lying there but at least the steady flow of blood has subsided to a slow trickle. You grab at one of the spools of fabric in your new home. Tearing a long strip of the material off, you try your best to bandage the wound without being able to see it or have both hands to do so. It's awkward and shitty, no doubt barely a knot keeping it together, but it's just enough pressure to alleviate some of the blood flow.

The steady loss of blood has left you dizzy. You crawl back into the crawl with heavy limbs, barely able to close the lid back just enough so that you can still breathe some fresh air. Time seems to stretch on forever, the darkness simultaneously keeping you up and helping you fall into slumber. You finally slip into sleep between the throbbing pain in your right arm and the stinging memory of a hot brand being pressed against the inside of your left wrist, along with the words "filthy fucking traitor". You fall asleep with one hand resting over the place where you tucked the stolen papers into your shirt, the folds of the letters easing your worries enough to let you sleep.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: on god, y'all are probably like pleASE calypso no more series istg you don't have the tiME but oh well i may not have the time but i've got the enthusiasm :D ((jk pls don't scalp me i'm just trying to have fun here)) but also hello hello thank you for reading!!! i really hope you all enjoyed it and please let me know what you think of it and feel free to send an ask if you have any questions/feedback/just overall love for me bc i’m really anxious to know what you all think!!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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thedefinitionofendgame · 4 years ago

Text

I Love You, Baby

Sullivan X Andy one-shot | Rated M | Canonverse

A/N: Amidst my Surrera breakdown tonight after reading the episode synopsis for 4x16, I wrote this to settle my heart rate. I have no idea how the Station 19 finale will go, but hints about a Surrera baby are running wild, so this fic inspired by those and everything else *Rated M for non-explicit sex/TW regarding the mention of George Floyd’s death (briefly)*

•

You can read this work on ao3 and fanfiction.net as well

Written & cover by @thedefinitionofendgame (aka me)

The cover is split between 3 different sections, just because :)

Alarms blared and sirens wailed but Lieutenant Andy Herrera heard none of them. Her thoughts were too crowded with her husband’s voice. No, not the way he whispered sweet nothings against her skin in the early mornings or the outrageously sexy way his voice deepened when he fought with her over control in the bedroom. Instead, it was the things he had told her over the last few months when the whole world had flipped upside down. The coronavirus started which put enough strain on a marriage alone. Then Andy’s husband, Robert, and a member of her Station 19 family, Dean, had wound up in jail mainly due to the colour of their skin. Robert had even had a gun pointed at his head, as he rushed to his wife who had been shoved to the ground. Less than two months later, a man across the country had died claiming he couldn’t breathe, filmed for the whole world to witness and make opinions about. None of it made sense to Andy, but then again she didn’t see things in the same way she had just half a year ago before she married her husband.

She loved his eyes. They were kind and held so much emotion. She loved the way his hands held her face when his lips brushed hers, no matter how gentle or rough their kiss was. His firefighter-status fitness level was a definite bonus; his hands were way larger than her own but she liked that they fit around hers like a glove. These were just some of the physical features she loved about her husband. Not once did she think about the colour of his skin and how that affected her love for him. It simply didn’t, at least not in a negative way. Robert was her husband; the colour of his skin never made any difference to her one way or another. Until it did matter, although not in a bad way. Suddenly, he was a target and Andy was thrust into a world that didn’t see a kind and dedicated man when they looked at Robert Sullivan. They saw someone that Andy would never compare to her husband, all for the colour of his skin.

Our marriage is the only good thing in my life, he had told her. The only good thing was her. They both had no one else, no parents or siblings. Sure, they had Station 19 who were basically family and Andy’s aunt, uncle and cousin. But in terms of immediate family, it was just them. Robert’s comment had left Andy’s head turning. Maybe it was the truth in his words, maybe it was the desperation he had said them to her in. Maybe it was because Andy wanted more than just their marriage to be good in his life. And maybe it was a little bit of all three.

Whatever it was, Andy was sure the problems couldn’t be fixed with what she had in mind. Although her idea wasn’t rational, it was the only thing she could think of. Robert and her had talked about the prospect of it before but it hadn’t gotten farther than that. The question remained whether or not it would break them up or make them stronger. At this point, Andy wasn’t ready to find out.

Yet somewhere in the universe, a light shone. A spark was lit, a flame caught on and from there, it was an inferno. One thing led to another and soon a giant ball of fire was heading for the only good thing in Robert (and Andy’s) life. It was only a matter of time before it crashed into them, leaving nothing but a mist of smoke behind.

“Hey, are you okay?” Robert’s concerned murmur washed over Andy, as she slid back into bed next to her husband.

Andy nodded, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against hers again. The early-morning air was cold and the firefighter wasn’t ready to get up yet. “Just had to use the bathroom.”

“Mhm.” An arm wrapped around her shoulders, making Andy feel safe. Home was wherever Robert’s embrace was. “Some long trip to the bathroom you took. Also did I hear you throwing up?”

Andy’s heart thumped in her chest. “No, why did you think that?”

“Thought I heard it. If you didn’t, it’s fine. Just wanted to check,” Robert pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead. “We have ten more minutes until the alarm goes,” he informed her.

“So kiss me.” Andy’s reply was quiet but Robert reacted immediately. His lips moved from her forehead to her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose and landed softly on her lips. Andy shifted so that she was more upright, and Robert’s hands moved to cup her face. The kiss deepened, and the sheets soon ended up on the unoccupied side of the mattress.

Morning sex was something Andy hadn’t really indulged in during her hookups with Jack and Ryan. Sure, it was a better way to wake up than turning over and hitting snooze on the alarm but she was mostly concerned about not getting caught by her father or anyone else at the station.

The alarm blared, interrupting the couple’s post-orgasmic bliss. With a sigh, Andy pushed away from Robert and threw on his discarded Station 19 shirt from the night before. “Cereal good for you? I’m not in the mood for French toast which is the-”

“Only thing you know how to make for breakfast, I know.” Leaning back against the headboard. Robert put his hands behind his head and smiled at her. “You tell me every morning.”

“Hey, I’m just reminding you what you signed up for when you married me.” She threw on yesterday’s jeans (her own this time), leaving the room.

“I married you for other reasons besides my breakfast options!” Robert shouted after her. He heard her infectious giggle from the stairs, which made his smile stretch even wider. Andy was going to be the death of him, but he would happily go if it meant the last thing he saw was her. The thought was cheesy, Robert knew, yet that was the state the ex-battalion chief was constantly in around his wife. She brought out a completely different side of him that had been hiding for the years between his first wife’s death and him coming to Station 19.

His first wife was probably watching from whatever afterlife she was in, happy for him. A day didn’t go by that Robert didn’t miss Claire, but he knew she would want him to find happiness again. Lucky for him, Andy was the woman he never expected to fall in love with and he did anyways. He was a very fortunate man to get two loves of his life.

After stretching, Robert rolled out of bed and trekked to the bathroom. Water was splashed all over the counter, which made him shake his head. While his wife kept a fairly clean locker at the station, their bathroom had no idea. He grabbed a small towel off the rack and mopped up the small puddles, then turned on the shower. Taking less than two minutes to get clean, Robert had a towel wrapped around his waist and was brushing his teeth while observing himself in the mirror. Clearly all the workouts he had been doing recently to deal with the emotions he had been feeling were helping tone his figure. Raising an eyebrow at himself in the mirror, Robert let out a laugh. He felt a bit stupid, so he quickly turned off the light, rinsed his mouth in the sink and went to change for the day.

A pair of Andy’s socks showed up in Robert’s drawer, so he opened up her side of the closet to put them away. But before he could move, something solid caught his eye amongst the squishy socks. He was about to investigate, then realized it wasn’t his. It was Andy’s and if he looked, it would be invading her privacy. So he closed the drawer and went back to putting on his own clothes. Yet Robert’s curiosity was piqued and the wheels in his head were already turning with possibilities. A surprise for him, perhaps. Or many it was a female-related object, one that she clearly didn’t want him to know about. Or maybe it was a- “Hey Andy, do you own a vibrator?” The question escaped Robert’s lips before he could stop himself.

Robert had never seen his wife appear in their bedroom so fast. “Robert, what on Earth have you been doing in here?” She asks, alarm lighting up her face.

Feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Robert admitted to what he had seen in Andy’s sock drawer. “Do you own a vibrator?” He repeated, once he had recounted his story to his wife.

Andy let out a huff of laughter, as she turned towards Robert. “Um, I did, before I married you. But it’s long gone, so don’t worry you don’t have any need to get your feather’s ruffled.” She crossed her arms. “Would you have been mad if I did own one?”

“No way, I would’ve suggested we use it to spice up our sex lives even more,” Robert told her.

Andy smacked her husband’s arm, before turning to leave the room again. “You need to get dressed because we gotta go in like fifteen minutes. I got out the cereal.”

“Okay, thanks.” Robert listened to his wife, and joined her in the kitchen for coffee moments later. He offered her the coffee pot, but she shook her head. It surprised Robert as Andy wasn’t one to skip out on caffeine.

Andy could tell her husband was starting to get a bit suspicious, so she made her exit. “Gonna change, then we can go,” she said in a rush, then jogged up the stairs to their bedroom again.

Shutting the door behind her, Andy leaned against it, before sliding to the floor. It was getting a little exhausting trying to keep their teeny tiny surprise a secret, especially from her husband. Not that she wanted to be keeping secrets, but this one was too big to tell him yet. Andy wasn’t ready for him to know. Unfortunately, keeping it from him went against the main slogan of their marriage: no more secrets. Robert had told her that on many occasions, always with a kiss on her lips following. This was an exception, or at least that’s what Andy told herself to make her feel better.

The young woman shed her clothes and put on clean ones, then grabbed her purse and a pair of socks. She turned the hidden object over in her hand once, before slipping it back and smiling to herself. “Baby, you ready to go?”

“Yep, and I have coffee for you to go,” Robert handed Andy the travel mug, which she dutifully took. Hopefully she’d be able to pour the contents down the sink when her husband wasn’t looking.

They got in the car and drove to work. The streets were pretty empty, as it was barely six-thirty a-m. Andy silently prayed people would stay safe today, making their job easier but also keep people living. It also meant Andy wasn’t taking big risks, something she knew she should avoid for the foreseeable future. Robert didn’t think anything was different, as he reached across the center console to take Andy’s hand. She smiled at him, and he pressed his lips to her fingers. They were stupidly in love without a care in the world.

Once they reached the station, the couple changed into their work attire and headed up to the kitchen for their second breakfast. Andy realized she conveniently forgot the travel mug of coffee in the car, and sighed with relief. Except the second they came around the corner, Ben was offering a second coffee to Robert, and extended it to Andy.

“I’m good, thanks Warren,” she said, avoiding Robert’s gaze and scurrying to sit with Maya and Vic at the table. “Hey guys.”

“Hey Andy,” Vic greeted her.

“We were just talking about Pru’s recent development in mobility,” Maya explained.

Babies, Andy thought, I can talk about that. “Is she still doing the butt-scootch thing?”

Vic nodded. “Yep. Dean’s been trying to get her to take a few steps because she’s more than ready. But she’s a stubborn girl.”

It would be awhile longer, but teaching a child to walk was something that thrilled Andy. “I can’t wait for that,” Andy accidentally burst out, before catching herself. “I mean, I can’t wait for Pru to start walking.”

“Same.” Learning back, Vic looked like a proud mother, despite the fact that Pru wasn’t her kid.

Maya waited a second longer, before pushing her chair back as the rest of the A-crew took a seat. “Okay, Montgomery and Herrera, you two are on aid car today. The rest of you guys, make sure the truck’s in tip-top shape.”

After a chorus of ‘yes-es’, the team spread out. Andy and Travis were called to a house regarding someone who choked on a piece of sausage (the Heimlich was performed swiftly and effectively), while the rest of the firefighters were sentenced to putting out a warehouse fire. A machine had caught a spark, which spread to all the wood materials lighting on fire. Not a great combination, yet Station 19 was prepared and managed to evacuate everyone in record time. Maya commanded the radio outside, as Vic, Robert, Jack and Dean did a final sweep. The aid care, with Andy and Travis inside, pulled up just as Maya was about to call her firefighters back. No one was hurt, but it was good to have the care on standby just in case.

The radio crackled, and Vic’s voice rang out. “There’s one more person in here! They’re trapped under a wooden shelf.” Static, then there was a muffled noise, before a shout could be heard. “Dammit!”

Instantly Maya had the radio switched on. “What happened?”

“The fire just lit up the entire back wall,” Vic reported. Andy’s heart beat loudly in her chest, as she feared for her fellow firefighters’ lives, and most of all her husband’s.

“Get the person stable, and then get out,” Maya ordered. “Gibson, Miller, what’s the status on the exit?”

“Clear. The direct path has nothing structural that could fall. But the smoke is thick. We need to start putting out the fire in the main area or else it has the potential to block off where we need to go,” Jack reported.

“Okay, good. Get out and you can help the other stations spray from the windows.” The warehouse luckily had a bunch of windows, which made access to the fire easier. Maya had had the windows smashed in earlier.

“Copy that.” Jack’s radio went muffled for a moment, then two doors opened at the side of the building. “Hey Herrera, Montgomery, nice of you to join us,” Jack said with a laugh. Travis nodded hello while Andy didn’t even look in Jack’s direction. She was too focused on whatever fate her husband had. Recently her emotions and hormones had been all over the place, leaving her wanting to cry one moment and incredibly turned on the next. Right now though, Andy was scared for her husband’s life.

“We got them!” This time it was Robert’s voice on the radio. “Heading for the exit.”

The seconds ticked away as everyone who wasn’t spraying water at the fire, had their eyes on the double doors where they expected Vic and Robert to emerge from. Maya was worried, and turned on the radio again. “Sullivan and Hughes, where are you guys?”

The only answer was static. Andy thought she head a shout but it was too muffled to tell. Then one door pushed open, and she rushed towards it. Vic called out, “Help me grab the guy!”

Andy held open the door as Vic stumbled through it towing a man behind her. She coughed loudly, as the smoke was incredibly thick. Robert was nowhere to be found.

While Travis did his job and checked over the man, Andy turned to Vic. “Where’s Sullivan?” She asked, remembering to use her husband’s proper title since they were at work.

Vic didn’t answer her. Instead she spun around and fixed her helmet back on her head. “I’m going back in there,” she said.

“No you aren’t.” Maya stopped her.

There was panic in Vic’s eyes. “Sullivan is still in there. A huge beam came down just as I was rounding the corner to the exit. Sullivan jumped back just in time, but we were separated. The smoke is so bad, and I had the guy with me. I could see the exit, so I thought I could just drop him off and the go back for Sullivan.”

“You left him?” Andy whirled on Vic.

“No, I couldn’t get to him. I had a civilian and I told him I’d go back. I have to go back,” Vic repeated to Maya.

“No. No one is going back in there.” Maya stated firmly. She picked up her radio and said, “Sullivan, do you copy?”

There was nothing, except for Vic’s voice apologizing. “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t reach him and I had the civilian and-”

“Nothing. You made the call and it was what was necessary.” Maya attempted to contact Robert via the radio again, with no luck.

Suddenly, there was a huge crash and a section of the warehouse roof began to cave in. Andy watched in horror as smoke billowed out into the sky and there continued to be no response from the radio. “ROBERT!” A scream left Andy’s throat as she lunged herself towards the doors her husband was still trapped behind. Much to her dismay, both Maya and Vic lunged after her, stopping her from charging in after him. She struggled against the women but soon gave up. “Somebody do something!”

Maya shook her head sadly. “It’s up to him to get out, I can’t risk another firefighter. Andy, he’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that!” Andy was practically in hysterics, which wasn’t like her at all. She was normally pretty put together, even when his life had been in danger before.

Jack came over and looked Andy right in the eyes. “I know he’ll make it out to you. He’s been a firefighter for a long time, and will be fine. Trust him.”

“Okay.” Andy’s voice was small as she nodded. Jack gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, then stood off to the side. He was worried about his friend because she was rarely this emotional while on a call. Sure, she had broken down from time to time, but it was rare for to lose it at the scene. Maybe she and her husband-it was still weird to say that after almost a whole year-had had a fight beforehand, and she didn’t get the chance to work things out.

Water continued to rain down on the building but the radio remained silent. Maya tried over and over to reach Robert with no response. The panic was just starting to settle in, when someone shouted that they saw movement through one of the broken windows.

Inside the building the air was thickening with smoke and Robert was losing air fast. But he had someone to fight for, well two someones actually. He was not about to leave his wife the way his first wife had left him. Claire’s death had almost killed him, and he would do whatever he could to save Andy from losing someone else. Up ahead, Robert saw the exit that separated him from the love of his life. With a last surge of strength, Robert burst open the doors and stumbled a short distance before he fell to the concrete. Cold, fresh air filled his lungs as he took in gasping breaths. He looked up and saw that the sky above him wasn’t smoke but clear and blue with the sun shining too. I’m safe, he thought. I’m safe and I'm alive.

Seconds later, two figures reached him. One was Travis, thrusting an oxygen mask into his hands for him to put on, and the other was his wife. Her arms engulfed him in a hug, and she practically lay on top of him on the ground. At first, Robert thought she was just happy to see him alive and well, then he felt her shaking in his lap. “I’m safe, it’s okay,” he told her, pulling back slightly so he could wipe the tears from her eyes.

“I thought I lost you,” Andy told him, as she pressed the oxygen mask to his face. Travis stepped back and gave them a few feet of space, as the rest of the group worked to spray the flames.

“You’ll never lose me, I’m too stubborn to die,” Robert reassured her.

Andy nodded, but she wasn’t convinced, She was just thankful he had made it back to her, and didn’t leave her all alone to raise their child. “I love you, baby,” she managed to get out.

“I love you.” His words echoed back and he hugged her tightly again. Moments later, Maya appeared at his side, and Andy moved to get up off of the ground. “Hey Captain Bishop, things were getting a bit toasty, huh?”

“Just a bit,” Maya rolled her eyes. “You okay Sullivan?”

“Fine.” The man in question had regained enough oxygen in his lungs and strength in his body, to rise to a standing position.

“You should head over to the aid car and rest; we can debrief later.” Maya glanced around, then leaned over to her fellow firefighter. “Hey, is Andy alright?”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “She’s fine, why?”

Maya sighed. “She acted overly emotional when you were struggling to get out of the building. I totally understand why, but it’s unlike her. I just wanted to make sure things were okay.”

“Oh, I understand.” Pausing, Robert hesitated how to approach the subject of why when he knew Andy didn’t even know he knew about her secret. “I’m sure she was just worried.”

“Right,” Maya said. She didn’t look completely convinced, but luckily thought Robert didn’t get questioned any longer. He made his way over to Travis at the aid car and got his head looked at. It was just a bruise, which would heal in no time.

The fire eventually died down and lost the war against the firefighters and water. Station 19 began to pack up, and Andy came over to give her husband a check up of her own, before getting back into the aid car. Vic apologized profusely to Robert for leaving him, and he told her that he would’ve done the same thing, had he been in her position. As Andy and Travis pulled away, Robert was leaning over to give Vic a reassuring hug; all was okay.

Once they got back, chores needed to be done, then people started heading to the showers or to crash in a bunk room. Andy slipped away and went back to the barn, swinging herself up to sit on the back of the firetruck amongst the many hoses. It had been a long day, even though it was barely eight o’clock. All she wanted to do was go to sleep, with maybe a little loving from her husband first.

Speaking of Robert, his voice carried through the barn as he spotted her. “Hey, can I join you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Andy nodded, moving so he could come up too. She let out a loud sigh, and ran a hand through her messy curls.

Robert watched her, concern in his gaze. “Everything okay?”

“Today was a close call,” Andy began, looking at her hands instead of her husband. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Robert wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Me too.” There was a moment of silence, until Robert decided it was time to rip off the bandaid. But first, he needed to tell her something. “I love you, you know that?”

Pulling away, Andy snuck a glance at Robert. “Of course, silly. I love you too.”

“Good.” Robert smiled slightly, then bumped her shoulder with hers. “Then I just wanted to tell you that I know.”

Andy whipped her head towards her husband. “You know what.”

“I know. Don’t try to hide it any longer.”

“What do you know.”

“I know.”

“I know you know, but what do you know?” Andy was very stubborn, and was not about to show her cards first.

Robert, who gave into arguments like this with her more often than she did, sighed and told her: “I know about the baby. That you’re pregnant.”

“Dammit.” She looked back down at her hands. “I was trying to keep it a secret for a little while longer. How did you find out? You didn’t look in my sock drawer, did you?”

“No, I wouldn’t invade your privacy like that,” Robert reassured her.

“Then what was it?”

“Well you’ve been acting funny the past couple days. Avoiding coffee, being way more emotional than normal-which there’s nothing wrong with but it isn’t like you normally-and disappearing to throw up at the same time for the past five days. You deny it but I know my wife.”

Shaking her head, Andy let out a sigh. “I can’t keep anything a secret from you.”

“So are you pregnant?” Robert wanted his wife to say it, to confirm his theory.

“Yes, I’m pregnant.” Andy nodded.

Robert didn’t hesitate. He leaned over and pulled his wife into the biggest hug, then began to press sloppy kisses all over her face. She laughed, swatting at him lightly. “I love you so much,” Robert gushed. “And I love you too, baby,” he said, looking down at Andy’s non-showing belly.

Andy took his hand and placed it where their baby was growing inside of her right now. “You’re not gonna want to miss this, ever,” she said.

“Never,” he agreed.

They were quiet for a moment, just breathing together. Then Andy spoke: “Before you tell me to lighten my duties, I planned on talking to Maya later this week. We have a girl’s night in the works, and I need to tell her before she suggests we go to a bar for shots.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind yet, but I’m glad you knew what I was going to ask in the future,” Robert said with a laugh. He pressed another kiss to Andy’s lips, then looked all around him.

“What?” Andy asked, as she watched her husband.

“I was just thinking, this is where it all started. Right here in the barn, when I was introduced as the new captain of Station 19. Who knew that we’d be here now, married with a baby on the way?” He lay back, pulling Andy down with him, and they tangled themselves amongst the folded hoses, snuggled together like they had lay that morning before getting up.

Andy confessed, “Not me. I hated you for a good while, before I realized I was using hate to cover up what I felt for you.”

Robert chimed in, “And I told myself I wasn’t going to fall in love with a firefighter half my rank. Look where that got me.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“And we’re going to be good parents, right?”

“The absolute best. First thing we’re going to do is teach them Spanish. After English of course.”

“Okay. Only if I get to teach them how to make French toast because-”

“It’s the only thing you know how to make for breakfast.”

#station 19 #station 19 fanfic #andy x sullivan #andy x sullivan fanfic #surrera #surrera fanfic #andy herrera #andy herrera fanfic #robert sullivan #robert sullivan fanfic #fluff #fanfic on tumblr #the definition of endgame

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followtheowls · 4 years ago

Note

Kids throw Kanera surprise date night

Thanks for the prompt :)

I actually really love this prompt because it reminded me of a Tik Tok I recently watched lol and that inspired the path I took this fic. Re-reading it through after writing it, Sabine and Ezra do kinda seem childish, but roll with it because the concept is super cute.

Also it’s kinda fitting a prompt with Valentine’s day coming up.

I imagine it’s set somewhere in the second half of season one.

Words: 2.5k

…….

Ezra sank heavily into the Dejarik booth in the gallery, his eyes tracking the game currently being played between Sabine and Chopper. Sabine was staring intently at the holo-pieces in front of her and didn’t even look up when he sat down. The sounds of Hera and Kanans argument rang down the hall. It didn’t sound like anything too serious, but it was definitely strange to see the couple arguing - it wasn’t something Ezra had witnessed before that day. Despite just having sat down, Ezra fidgeted nervously, the fact that his Captain and his Master were arguing made him feel on edge.

He’d only been on the Ghost for a few months, but Ezra had gotten used to the lifestyle of his new living situation. He never went to bed hungry, the Ghost had heating, and he had access to regular showers with hot water. The best part of it all was the place he had found for himself in their little family on the Ghost. Ezra jumped, startled out of his thoughts as a particularly loud “Kanan!” echoed down the hall and into the gallery. His frown deepened. He knew how these things went - the two leaders of a group fight and the group ends up splitting up because the rest are forced to take sides. Ezra had seen it before on the streets with gangs of other Loth rats. Another pang of unhappiness rang through him. He’d just gotten used to being onboard and he was finally happy - happier than he had remembered being in a long time - why did things have to go wrong now?

“You okay, kid?” Ezra looked over to Sabine, who had been distracted from her intense game of Dejarik, and was staring at Ezra in mild concern. “You kinda look like you’re freaking out about something.”

Ezra rolled his eyes in annoyance at her usage of the nickname kid (Sabine was barely two years older than him!), and forced a smile. “I’m not freaking out about anything! It’s just, well,” Ezra floundered, struggling to come up with the right way to phrase his concern without revealing too much. “Uh, have they ever fought like this before?” Ezra finished timidly.

“Who? Oh, wait, do you mean Kanan and Hera? Do they fight? Is that what you’re worried about?” She clarified, inquisitively. At Ezra’s nod she continued, “Don’t think too much about it; they argue every once in a while. They get over it eventually, I think some people call it a, uh, lovers quarrel?” She snickered and Chopper emitted a loud beep of laughter. “They just need some time together that's not about missions or supply runs or anything too serious.”

Ezra visibly relaxed at Sabine’s words. “Oh. I guess that makes sense.” His eyes clouded as a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

“Uh, oh,” Sabine chuckled. “What are you up to?”

Ezra’s face broke into a large grin. “I have an idea,” he started, “and you can help.”

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

“Come on, let’s get the supplies inside,” Hera ordered, while shifting her grip on the package in her hands. “I wonder what the kids have gotten up to while we were out.”

Kanan huffed. “Probably nothing good,” he muttered. “I don’t know how they get into the situations they do. Force only knows how they survived before we came along.”

Hera smirked and playfully retorted, while poking him in the shoulder. “Some might say they get their troublesome streak from you.”

Kanan chuckled dryly and rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess I’d have to disagree with you there, Captain Rebel. I’d say they take after you and your wild antics.”

Hera playfully turned her nose upwards feigning an air of innocence. “I have no idea what you’re referring to Mister I-like-to-jump-out-the-Phantom-midflight-and-have-my-apprentice-follow-my-lead.”

Kanan just snorted humorously in response while making his way up the ramp of the Ghost. They both set down their crates in the cargo bay and looked up to see the twin Cheshire grins aimed at them from the two youngest members of the crew. The older Jedi and the pilot exchanged wary glances with each other. “What have you two done?” Hera asked with a brow raised and a tone that indicated a fair amount of suspicion.

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Sabine replied, sporting a cheeky smile, while Ezra beside her was seemingly vibrating with excitement. “Just a few decorations, why don’t you come see.” Ezra nodded enthusiastically, and giggled while racing up the ladder before the rest of them.

Kanan and Hera exchanged another glance, both sporting cautious smiles, before following the two teens up the ladder and Sabine ushered them into the gallery. What greeted them was a scene that they never would have predicted. The gallery was decorated in a romantic fashion - Hera assumed this was mostly Sabine’s doing. There were two sets of silverware and glasses on the Dejarik table and a bunch of lit candles in various parts of the room. There were also decorative hearts and flowers made of flimsi strewn throughout the room.

Once again, the couple stared at each other, this time bewildered instead of suspicious. Whatever they were expecting, this was not it. Ezra returned again with what looked like a thick piece of fabric or ribbon tied around his collar like a bow tie. He giggled again and started to lead Hera to her seat while Sabine pushed Kanan towards the opposite seat. “Kids - what? What is this?” Hera questioned.

Sabine replied with an everlasting grin. “Welcome to date night on the Ghost, we will be your hosts for the evening! Thank you for choosing us, please settle in and get comfortable. My colleague Ezra will take it from here!” And at that she disappeared out the door, heading in the direction of the kitchen. Ezra stepped forward with two pieces of flimsi that he placed in front of the seated couple.

“Here is the menu,” Ezra said playfully, putting on a posh accent. “Let me know if there's any questions! First off, what would the both of you like to drink?”

Kanan’s eyes crinkled with amusement and affection and a smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll take some water, and I don’t know… Hmm…” He said, playing along. “How about you surprise us? Sounds good, Hera?”

Hera hid her smile with her hand. “Of course, love. Surprise us with your best drink.” Ezra nodded vigorously, and made a big show of writing something down on a notepad. He then bounded off in the same direction Sabine disappeared to, but not before bowing in an exaggeratedly.

The couple turned back to face one another and there was silence for several moments until Hera exclaimed, “Oh. My. Goodness. This has to be the most adorable thing they’ve ever done!” She tried to make sure her laughter was not too loud or giving the kids the wrong idea. Kanan echoed her reaction, his shoulders shaking with his suppressed chuckles.

“Let’s see what menu they’ve worked up for us in the meantime,” Kanan proposed, still sporting an amused grin. “By the way,” Kanan leaned in to whisper to her, “did you see his little bow-tie?” Hera hummed and nodded, her attention diverted to the menu.

The menu itself was handwritten (presumably by Ezra if the handwriting and spelling were any kind of indicator) and was comically short, provoking another round of amusement from the two. There, apparently, was going to be three courses. The first course was, hilariously, a choice between the four different flavors of ration bars they had on ship. The second course was a selection between the two different types of canned soups they had one board far back in the pantry. The dessert section announced it would be a chefs special, but didn’t list the item.

After only moments of deliberation, the two had made their selections, just in time for the return of the ‘waitstaff’. Giggling, Ezra stepped forward holding two glasses of water, in his excitement a little sloshed over the side. He set them down in front of the pair, and stepped out of the way while Sabine brought over two champagne flutes filled with a sparkling pinkish-purple beverage.

“Ooh,” Hera commented, “What’s this pretty drink?”

The kids met each other's gaze, and Sabine replied, “It’s our signature drink, we call it ‘the Sparkling Spectre’.” Ezra giggled and clapped his hands. “It’s really just meiloorun and jogan juice mixed with Alderaanian champagne.”

Now that made Hera strike a serious face and she opened her mouth to inquire for further explanation. “And, how, may I ask, did you acquire the champagne?” She doubted they had gotten it themselves, no vendor would believe either of them to be over the legal age.

Breaking character for a moment, Ezra explained Zeb had generously offered up the bottle, which he had received as a gift a while ago, claiming it to be too bubbly for his liking. At that response, Hera relaxed.

“Well, I will leave you with my colleague, as I must be returning to my kitchen.”

Ezra stepped forward, again putting on a posh accent and asked if they were ready to place their order. They responded affirmatively, and relayed their orders to him. “Very well, I will inform the kitchen,” Ezra confirmed. “Before I go, are your beverages to your liking?” The both of them sipped their drink and responded affirmatively.

Kanan and Hera watched, not quite suppressing their amusement, as Ezra scurried out of the room towards the kitchen to tell Sabine what they had ordered. On his way out, he passed Chopper, giving him a swift kick and ordering him to play the music Sabine had found. Chopper replied he would do no such thing, but remained in the room. Hera covered her smile with her hand and giggled. “I wonder what brought this on?” She asked Kanan. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Eh, I can never tell with that kid. It sure is funny though - and nice to not have to have to organize dinner, even if the dinner’s going to be ration bars and canned soup.” Kanan replied, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

Chopper once again made his presence known with a loud string of beeps. “Baby Jedi’s scared that Mom’s gonna break up with you, so he and Spectre 5 are making a date to offset that outcome.” Kanan and Hera looked at each other in bewilderment, both of them clearly wondering where Ezra got that idea from.

“Well, obviously that’s not true. I wonder where he got that idea from?” Hera contemplated for a moment before realization dawned on her face.“He must’ve been spooked by how we were arguing earlier. We’ll clear it up - he’ll be fine. You hear that Chop? No one’s breaking up with anyone!”

Chopper responded with a curse, and fled the room whooping with laughter, but not before beeping “A droid can only dream!” at Kanan, who rolled his eyes.

Several minutes of pleasant conversation followed until their youngest crew member returned with a tray in his hand. “For you, Madame, and for you, Master Jedi.” He placed the ration bars in front of them, and backed away heading towards the kitchen.

----------

Around thirty minutes of warm and pleasant conversation and two courses later, the Twi’lek and Jedi had finished both their ration bars and soup. “Delicious, Ezra,” Hera praised, purposefully holding Kanan’s hand in a visible manner; she wanted to try to ease his worries about the couple. “We loved it!”

“You did good, kid,” Kanan smiled at him, picking up on Hera’s intentions. “It’s been an excellent date.” His body language was relaxed in a way Hera hadn’t seen in a while, he’d had a tenseness to him ever since he began to teach Ezra the ways of the Force; it was almost as if he struggled to relax lately and sometimes the evidence of the heaviness of his past weighed down on him. But, right now, Kanan was grinning happily while looking at his student, his eyes twinkling in a prideful expression that Hera noticed was often inching everyday towards paternal.

Ezra beamed in response. “That’s great, and there’s still the last course!” He took away their finished soup bowls, headed back towards the kitchen. From the gallery, they could hear Ezra relay their compliments of the meal to Sabine and, seconds later, the cheering and slapping sound which presumably was a high five. The couple now also heard the addition of a new voice echoing down the hall - Zeb. They were thankful to hear his voice, as neither teenager had any cooking skills.

Dessert finally arrived along with the rest of the crew, this time Zeb finally making an appearance. He presented them with their dessert - a stack of fresh waffles with slices of meiloorun and whipped cream - it was clearly made by Zeb as he was the only one with the necessary skills to make it.

Hera gasped with appreciation, clapping her hands together in praise. “Wow, this looks amazing everybody! I can’t wait to try it. While you're all here, we just want to say how much we appreciate this. We love it and we love our little family here on the Ghost.” Spectres 4, 5, and 6 smiled back at them, and Hera gracefully chose not to comment if Ezra’s eyes happened to glisen more than normal. “You all are so important to us, really!”

Zeb laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Eh, that’s enough sappiness for me, I’m going to go clean the mess they left in the kitchen.” He backed, away leaving the kids with the parental figures of the ship.

“Hera’s right,” Kanan continued. “We couldn’t have asked for a better family, kids who care enough to organize a whole dinner for the two of us. We love it and wouldn’t change it for anything in the galaxy.” His words clearly resonated with the two teenagers, both coming from sensitive familial backgrounds. He opened his arms, inviting them both in for a hug, which Ezra practically melted into. To his left, Sabine was hugging Hera.

“Why don’t the both of you stay while we eat dinner, hmm?” Hera asked, reaching across the table to grasp Ezra’s hand. The two teens nodded and settled in beside the adults who began to dig into their dessert. They chatted joyfully with the young teens, enjoying the leisure time. Kanan wrapped an arm around Ezra’s shoulders, and the teen eventually leaned his head against Kanan’s arm. For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Kanan’s heart fluttered with affection and gratefulness for the family he and Hera had built, and the home they have been able to provide for the younger members of the crew, both of whom were products of difficult living situations. Kanan met Hera’s eyes for a brief moment and knew she was appreciating the same thing. Together, they basked in the intense sense of pride for the thoughtfulness and creativity of their younger counterparts, knowing that their family, in that moment, was untouchable by those of the Empire who wished to break them.

#swr #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #sabine wren #zeb orrelios #kanera #anon #send me a prompt if you’d like :)

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narcissasdaffodil · 4 years ago

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Femslash February 2021

Day 2: Tears

This one is also for the 6 month anniversary of LCBC, I’m using multiple prompt lists x Here’s the A03 link if you prefer reading on there x

It’s unexpected, mostly. When you give your entire heart to someone, you don’t expect them to stamp on it. Marisol found herself replaying the same section of the episode over and over, watching Lottie getting ready to leave.

On screen, the door opened and a tall redhead ran through, and hugged her from behind.

“You can’t leave. I seriously won’t let you. What am I going to do without your witchy love to support me?” Just the soft voice of the redhead breaks Marisol’s heart again. Aderyn Bevan had stolen her heart from the moment she had arrived all those months ago. She had tried to make relationships work with everyone but her mind always came back to her.

When they finally got together, she was so happy. It hurts to remember those memories, but she doesn’t have a heart to break any more. She feels it beating occasionally, but feels so entirely numb.

She forces herself to turn back to the TV, her eyes drawn in by Aderyn, even now. The musician had played her like a fiddle, and managed it effortlessly. Pretending to be in love with her despite holding a small crush on Lottie persistently. Despite taking your side during Roccogate, you could tell how much it hurt her to do that. Going against Lottie wasn’t something she could do without guilt.

“I wish I could stay too, you know. Seeing you and Marisol together, made me realise something. I’ve been sitting on these feelings and pretending they don’t exist, but…” Lottie’s cut off by Aderyn pulling her close and kissing her on the lips. Lottie gasps in surprise, but kisses her back, her arms wind around Aderyn’s back and pull her close. They only separate to breathe and stare into each other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? Have I seen something you didn’t?” Aderyn watched Lottie with wild eyes, strands of hair escaping from her elaborate braided bun. For someone who usually looks so polished, to see the mascara tears trailing down her cheeks and the hair slowly escaping and coming loose in wild auburn curls, felt so strange. Come to think of it, Aderyn had always kept part of herself hidden around you. It was only Lottie, and Lucas who she let herself loose with. You were just left with the public image version of her, the one who kept all emotions hidden and solved all problems with a wide smile on her face. Elisa had warned you about her, said she was far too good to be true. But she had everyone else wrapped around her little finger, so there was no hope for you, really.

Fresh tears spilt down Marisol’s cheeks and she let them go. Her flat was such a tip currently, pizza boxes stacked in piles on every available surface, and tissues. She was usually so neat, but the current situation had left her unable to clean up her own stuff, she had become such a mess. She no longer cared about her flat being a mess, she had barely been out recently. She only went out for the essentials and nothing more. Her phone beeped and she left it on the table, not having the energy to move from the sofa.

“No, of course not. I feel it too. But what about Marisol? I know I left it so late to even say anything, and I have to leave soon. I just never thought you might like me in that way. And can you promise me something? Win, and we’ll work out what’s happening from there,” Lottie squeezed her hand before letting go. She grabbed her suitcase and they left the room together.

Marisol fast forwarded the rest of the episode, not able to see herself and Aderyn together, and in love. Or was she even in love with you? She didn’t accept to be your girlfriend, and looked...uneasy when you said ‘I love you’. Did she just lead you on and were you too blind to see it?

Her flat turned silent as the episode finished and she turned off the TV. She sat in the silent dark room, unable to convince herself to move. We were something, don’t you think so? You’ve turned from someone who as a rule doesn’t listen to Taylor Swift and hates too much noise to needing noise all the time and having a full playlist of sad Taylor Swift songs. Anything to prevent your thoughts from spiralling. But you were the same after Olivia, so of course this happened again.

Her phone beeped again and she continued to leave it. She was in the Islanders group chat, but struggled to see everyone so happy. Everyone found their person, even if they didn’t always leave with them. Hope and Lucas were together, which fit far better than Hope and Noah. Noah himself was with Priya and those were just the people she remembered. She struggled to stay in touch with most of them and could feel them slipping away from her. Hope and Bobby were the only ones who keep contacting you, but they’ll give up eventually. Priya was always saying that she was the outcast, but that was more like you.

As for her, she who cannot be named, the little bird was enjoying life with Lottie. No sign of an apology, or anything to even explain what happened. You were the first person to give her that nickname. To call Aderyn little bird, which started as a joke. To her, you were the sunshine, she took that from your name. Now you can’t even see the sunlight without thinking of her.

She snapped herself out of her head, the loud knocking coming from the door making her jump out of her skin. The knocking didn't appear to stop, so she stood up and slipped her feet into her slippers and made her way to the door, retrieving her keys as she passed the key bowl. She slid her keys into the keyhole and opened the door, to see Bobby and Hope on the other side. She tried to smile, but fresh tears spilled down her cheeks and she stepped backwards into her flat.

“It’ll probably be better if you come in, don’t particularly want to be a mess out in the hallway. Excuse the mess, I didn’t plan for guests,” she laughs slightly. She was such a mess she didn’t feel like pretending otherwise, and she was relieved they didn’t comment on it.

They followed her, Hope closed the door behind her and locked it. She put the keys back in the key dish as she passed it.

“I’ve been very worried about you. You haven’t been answering any texts or phone calls, I know that the...situation with Aderyn must really hurt,” Hope moved forward and puts her arms around Marisol, giving her a hug. Marisol sniffed, and let out fresh tears into Hope’s shoulder. Hope stroked her back, and held onto her. The small attempt at comfort helped her relax a little bit, and eventually they separated.

“T...thank you. I keep wondering if you’re going to give up on me eventually. If you’re going to leave like she did. I don’t even know what I did wrong, why she chose me of all people’s hearts to break. She had the pick of everyone, even Bobby. As for Lottie, after last time she kissed Gary and there was all that backlash, you’d think she’d think twice about starting another kiss gate. Trust my luck to be fucked over twice,” her eyes flash in anger as she looks over to Hope. It’s a relief to feel something other than heartbreak, or numbness.

“It was far from your fault. It was her choice to make, entirely. I won’t give up on you, and that’s a promise,” Bobby nodded from next to Hope.

“And same for me, too. I don’t support either of them with that decision. I’m pretty certain Aderyn knew all too well what she was doing. She appeared too good to be true, I got ensnared myself by her. Don’t blame yourself for that either. You deserve better, I know that,” Bobby took her hands in his and squeezed them tight.

“What about Gary? How did he take this? Considering how he was together with Aderyn for so long, until I coupled up with her, this must’ve hurt him too…” she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked back at them.

Bobby sighed.“About as well as can be expected, really. It was a surprise for him too. And both of them are just pretending they did absolutely nothing wrong, and have moved to California to get away from all the backlash. The rest of us are very much there for you, though. You deserve so much better.”

“Elisa warned me and all. She said Aderyn’s far too good to be true. Yet I was too stubborn to listen. Not only that, but she was always hiding stuff from me, so I guess I expected it...anyway, I could do with a distraction. This is going to sound pathetic, but I keep replaying that kiss, and noticing something. How different she seems with Lottie, how much more free and happy she is. But an apology would be nice, but of course that’s too much to ask…” Marisol bit her lip hard and blinked. She ignored the tears reappearing and moved into the kitchen. She stared at the mess, sighed softly, and turned back around.

“Do you fancy pizza? My treat,” Hope winked at her. “I’ll even get ham and pineapple. Even though I can’t stand it,” Marisol’s eyes lit up and she grinned.

“Sure. But maybe split it, so half ham and pineapple, and half ham and mushroom. As you like mushrooms, right? I would make something, but…” she gestured towards the mess in her flat. It’s weird you no longer care about the mess, but oh well.

Hope retrieved her phone and started to order pizza.

“I’ll help with the mess, if you’re comfortable with that,” Bobby said from beside her.

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to tackle it. But don’t have the energy, for obvious reasons,” she gave him a wobbly smile.

Once Hope finished her phone call, the three of them started tackling the mess. The stacks of boxes are nearly taller than Marisol herself, and as she started to see the countertops beneath the mess she breathed a sigh of relief. Nearly normal again. Hopefully soon you can heal.

She heard a knock at the door and Hope scrambled to answer it, getting there before Marisol and paying the delivery person.

“I did say I would pay. Now you need to relax. Maybe we can find something on TV?” Hope moved with the boxes and drinks towards the sofa, and Marisol and Bobby followed suit.

Marisol retrieved the remote and switched on Netflix. As they choose something to watch she feels a smile settle on her face and relaxed, focused on her food and the pleasure of having company. Maybe you didn’t find love in Love Island. But you found something more valuable, friends for life.

#litg #love island the game #litg marisol #marisol x mc #femslash february 2021 #femslash february #litgs2 #litg fanfic #bubblelaureno #fanfic

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

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ancient names, pt. xxi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xxi: what went we

Masterlink Post

Word Count: 15.3k

Rating: Explicit: sexual content ahead.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, some slight gore/blood (it's very mild), the aforementioned sexually explicit content.

Notes: Hi guys. I don't really know where to begin this post, because I am incredibly emotional. It feels so very fitting and special to me that I am bringing in the last chapter of Ancient Names just as 2021 rolls in, and so yes, I AM crying, yes, this WILL be an exceptionally sappy notes section, and yes, this is going to be all about you!

There are so many people that are in part responsible for this fic actually getting finished and put out where the world can see it. @empirics, whose unending support even when she doesn't even GO here and cheerleading me through writing sprints; @lilwritingraven, who is so sweet, so supportive, so incredible and just an overall gigantic sweetheart; @faithchel, whose tags are incredible and always just give me LIFE, I love that our girls be out here really feral like that; @shallow-gravy, who not only lends me her eyeballs but also lets me complain and whine, send her memes nonstop, and participates in my very elaborate fantasies of Elliot and Diana living out their lives as dog moms on a farm (and sometimes in our unholy OT3); @baeogorath, also an eyeball-lender, also incredibly sweet, ALSO lets me send them memes, and does so good in talking me down from my adrenaline anxiety pre-posting and post-posting, was the first person to welcome me into this fandom and is also just a dear, dear friend who happens to be incredibly talented. And, of course, @starcrier. As always, this would have never ever ever been possible without you, not even a little bit, not even at all. From the bottom of my heart, to every single one of you, and the people who have left kudos, have left comments: thank you thank you thank you, from the absolute bottom of my heart. Here is ALL my love, just for you!

The emotional journey of writing this fic has been an incredible one. And a taxing one. Elliot is a character near and dear to my heart for many reasons; I pour so much of my heart into her, so when I hear people say that they love her, and love this journey, and love these things that I've created and written, I mean it when I say that it makes my whole entire day. It means so much to me. Thank you.

In the essence of time, I will not go through all of the feelings that are in my brain right now because there are SO many and I am already crying lol. Please just know you have made the experience of joining a new fandom, and writing in it, so incredible!

There is going to be an epilogue following this chapter, and then I'm going to take a short break and start in on a sequel fic, tentatively titled Witching Hour. Please feel free to hang out/chat w me/plague me with your thoughts at any time of the day; I would love to visit with all of y’all!

John was lying to her.

Or, at the very least, he was withholding information from her, which was just about as bad as lying, Elliot thought. She didn’t know what exactly he wasn’t forthcoming about—but did it matter, at this point? She could tell he was lying; he’d been all kinds of ready to leave and go and get out of Hope County, and now he was scrounging up some kind of ass-pull reason for them to stay. So did it matter? Did the distinction count?

Yes, she thought absently, as John’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles along the small of her back. Yes, I have to know what he’s lying to me about.

“Good morning,” John murmured against her neck. “How did you sleep?”

It had been three days since her baptism-gone-awry, three days of Burke occupying the bunkhouse she had been in while she had wordlessly moved into John’s space, three days of avoiding eye contact with the marshal and deferring questions about him. I don’t know, I really only knew him for a day, she’d say when John asked, or does it matter if I told him? He wouldn’t get it, the unspoken words being ‘not like you do’. She hoped, anyway.

Three days of trying to figure out what it was John wasn’t telling her.

“Like shit,” she replied tiredly as his mouth trailed along the curve of her shoulderblade. The pressure of his fingers against her sternum had her rolling onto her back to look up at him; his gaze swept over the exposed skin.

“Bruising’s clearing up,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. But he didn’t elaborate; he didn’t say, should we reveal your sin today, my love? the way that she thought he would try. It felt as though the gears in her head were still sluggishly turning, trying to piece together the entire picture of what was going on, a picture that she felt like John didn’t want her to see.

She knew exactly how it would go if she asked. What’s the game? she’d say, and John would look at her with those eyes, and lean in to kiss her, and he’d say, no game, hellcat, and she’d have to believe him because she didn’t have any empirical evidence that he was lying to her. Just a feeling, deep in her gut, twisting and wrenching.

It made it worse to know that John was looking at her with adoration.

Trailing a lazy circle below her collarbone with his fingertips, John asked, “Do you want to do it today?” and she stifled a sigh.

“I don’t know yet, about staying,” she replied, even though she did know: she wouldn’t. She would die before she crawled into a stupid fucking bunker at the behest of Joseph Seed. “I want to wait.”

John’s eyes flickered a little at her words, but he nodded. Elliot reached up, catching her hand with his and skimming the pads of her thumbs along his palm. The words sat there on the tip of her tongue: what aren’t you telling me? Why can’t you just tell me? Haven’t we been through enough, the two of us?

“Your heartline,” Elliot said instead, forcing her voice into playfulness because she couldn’t stop thinking about how Burke had told her to carry on as she had been. “Have you ever had your palm read?”

“No,” he answered amusedly, letting her nail skim along the curve of the line on his palm. “Are you an expert in palmistry?”

“My mama used to entertain tarot cards and palm readers with her ladies,” she replied. “So I listened in a lot. I suppose it isn’t very Godly to have your palm read.”

“It isn’t.” John’s eyes glittered. “But go ahead and tell me what mine says.”

She shifted a little against the pillows. On the floor by her side of the bed, Boomer let out a long, suffering sigh—like he was tired of listening to this flirtation already. For a small second in time, that feeling of peace swept over her, and she let herself bask in it. Elliot thought that she deserved that much at least.

“Your heartline shows your personality, and your quality of love,” she explained, skimming her finger along his heartline. “Yours comes all the way over, see? All the way across your palm.”

“Is that good?”

“Very,” Elliot said somberly. “It shows you have an abundance of love, and high expectations.”

John worked his jaw a little, clearly trying not to smile like he was proud of himself—like he had any control over the lines of his palm and how they worked. “I could have told you that.”

“And it curves upward,” she continued. “Which means you have great verbal dexterity.”

“I could have also told you that.”

“Undoubtedly,” she deadpanned. “Are you going to let me finish my reading?”

He flashed his teeth at her in a grin. “Please,” he said, “continue.”

Elliot clicked her tongue, turning her attention back to his hand. Inspecting for a moment, she said, “You have a upward split here, you see? That means you’re willing to sacrifice a lot for love.”

John rumbled his agreement at the statement and leaned down, kissing her shoulder.

“And these little forks here,” she added, pressing her thumb against them, “indicates a dispute on marriage.” Her eyes lifted to his, playful. “Are you intending on marrying, John? Palm says that’s a bad idea.”

For a second, John stared at her—his eyes fluttered, and he looked like he was collecting himself. Elliot sat up a little, frowning, but when she did it seemed to trigger whatever it was that was needed for him to come back to being present. Interlacing their fingers together, he pulled her forward and kissed her; and kissed her, and kissed her, until her lungs ached and she thought she was getting dizzy from not being able to take a full breath. His free hand slid down between her legs; when her lips parted to allow her to whimper, John’s teeth caught her lower lip with bruising force.

Already, heat was pooling in the pit of her stomach. Already, she could feel those telltale signs of desire, the way that John inspired it in her with just a few simple gestures.

“Want you,” John said against her mouth, guiding her onto him, settling her on his lap. Something was wrong, something she’d said had struck a strange nerve in him; but undeniably, it felt good, that his hands were trembling whenever his grip on her lessened a little. It felt good, because it felt like he needed her.

“Reading my palm is a cute trick, but—”

“How badly?” Elliot asked, before she could stop herself. John’s eyes, dark with want, raked over her as the sheets bunched at her hips. When she rocked her hips against his inquisitively, a low, strangled noise came out of him. “How badly do you want me?”

“You’re—in a mood,” John managed out. He opened his mouth to keep talking—something insufferable, Elliot was sure—but as he did, she adjusted and sank down against him, drawing out of him a low, vicious moan. His fingers dug into her hips and he hissed, “Wicked thing.”

She slid him out of her, and he groaned, miserable.

“How badly?” she asked again, less cloying this time. There was a strange kind of satisfaction that wound up in her, hot and humid, when John let her do this—let her take, let her sink her nails and her teeth into him wherever and however she wanted. Like he knew exactly what it was she needed and didn’t mind giving it to her.

Liar, something inside of her said, he’s a fucking liar, there’s something he isn’t telling us, but then John looked at her and said, “So badly, more than anything, Elliot,” and her chest tightened.

Her fingers found his shoulder and she tugged him up into a sitting position. Her mouth found his; she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled just as their hips slotted together and she sighed his name in a hitching breath. The delicious burn was almost enough to fizz her focus out of existence—with so little sleep on her agenda, it was hard enough, but then she canted her hips wantingly and sparks of red-hot pleasure went racing up her spine.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” John ground out, burying his face against her neck. “Can’t believe you’re mine, El—can’t—after all of this—”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered at his words, the uneasy sprint of happiness making her stomach churn. Something else, though, wrenched around the cavity of her chest—those words. Can’t believe you’re mine.

“John,” she managed out, breathless, “I—”

“—and I’m yours.” John kissed her and guided her hips down against him until she was moaning unsteadily. “Fuck, yes, I’m—all yours, baby, just take w-what you—need from me, give you anything, anything—”

I’m all yours, he said, in the same breath as can’t believe you’re mine, and it shouldn’t have but it felt different: in that moment, having John buried into her up to the hilt and digging his fingers into her skin and sighing her name, it shouldn’t have felt different, but it did. It did, because they belonged to each other.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, on his shoulder. She thought, he’s a liar, and she thought, I’m so afraid of losing him, too, and she thought, we belong to each other.

“Please,” Elliot moaned, but she didn’t know what she was asking for; to finish, to hear him say it again, to hear him say more, to tell her the complete and absolute truth? Did it matter, anymore?

It does matter. The distinction matters.

So she said, “You’re mine,” and she kissed him, and she said it again, and again, like a prayer; until John was saying it back, feverish and panting the delicious words against her skin, I’m yours, I’m yours, all yours.

Wicked, and wretched, and maybe a liar, but all hers.

Later, tangled together in bed, John pulled her flush against him and said against her skin, “Don’t you want it, too?”

“I do,” Elliot murmured, knowing that he was talking about the Wrath he was going to put into her skin. “There’s just... A lot after that, to think about. And I know you’ll want an answer right away—”

“Is it that hard?” he asked. “To make a decision about staying or leaving?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

John frowned. “I just—”

“You just want me to say yes to whatever it is you want,” Elliot snapped. “I’d like to remind you that you told me we’d go as soon as this was done.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, Elliot. I’m just—”

And then he paused, like something wanted to come out of him that he didn’t want to say, like he’d caught himself before he’d make a fool of himself. All this time, and Elliot thought she’d never see John vulnerable, not really in the way that she wanted—he’d seen her crying and broken and grieving, and she’d seen him in intimate glimpses, but not completely.

“You’re just what?” she asked, brows pulling together.

John’s fingers traced along her sternum, spelling out WRATH, much like he had done that evening at her mother’s house.

“They’re my family,” he said after a moment. “He gave me everything.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in her chest. “I know.”

“That includes you, too.” John leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “He brought me you. I know you don’t believe, hellcat, but if nothing happens then what did we lose? Nothing. I just get to keep my family.”

Her lashes fluttered, exhaustion seeping over her bones again. It was late into the morning, but already she wanted to close her eyes.

“I told you before,” she whispered. “I told you. You can’t have both. You can’t put one foot in both worlds, John.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. He ducked his head against her neck and kissed there, and she thought about what he’d said that night in the bar.

Outside of my loyalty to Joseph, there’s you, and I want both.

I want you too, Elliot.

We can have a place to belong.

She thought about Jerome’s voice over the radio. You don’t have to Atlas this thing, deputy.

She thought about Joey, holding her tight. I never doubted you’d be able to get me.

She thought about how, at twenty-five, she had to bury her best friend in the fucking ground.

John was lying to her about something. He wasn’t telling her everything, and maybe she had always known that it would be like this, between them: maybe, down in the marrow of her bones, she had always known they would end up at odds with each other, John trapped between two worlds that he wanted and neither side willing to budge.

Something has to be done, she thought tiredly, as John’s fingers smoothed along her hip, and I’m going to have to fucking do it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’ve gotta get them out of here, Rook.”

Burke’s words stayed there, lingering in the air between them. It was late in the afternoon, and John was with his brothers and Faith in the chapel, and she’d ducked into Burke’s bunkhouse between guard shifts to grab a quick word with him. As soon as she told him that John had been pushing to get her sin revealed sooner than the original week he’d told her, Burke’s frown had deepened.

“They’re planning on getting it over with and getting the fuck out,” he said, pacing the tiny bunkhouse room. “There’s no way I’m getting to that radio with them all here. They think the world’s going to end, and that they need to be in their bunkers to survive it. If they get locked in there, Elliot, then—”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get them all out of here,” she replied irritably. “You do realize that I’m only—John’s the only—”

Burke waved his hand to stop her from elaborating. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to discuss the nature of her relationship with John beyond what the base information: they had indulged in a physical relationship, and an emotional one, and now Elliot’s priorities included him. As best they could.

“He wants to do the… Ceremony,” Elliot continued, mouth twisting around the only word she could think to say without making it macabre, “soon. And I just think that if I push it all the way out, then it’ll stir up suspicion, after I told him I wanted to—”

“What if you didn’t?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“What if you didn’t push it out?” Burke continued, slowly, pitching his voice quieter and more urgent when he noticed movement outside. “What if you asked for it to be done sooner? But just—somewhere else? Not here? Make up something about how you don’t have good memories here, and…”

“And ask for his family to be there,” Elliot finished, “so that they have to leave you here?”

Burke nodded. His gaze darted to the window again, and she knew that they were running out of time. “You’ll still be guarded.”

“I can handle a few of these fuckers,” he replied, waving his hand. “Most of them are scattered out, getting supplies. I hear them complaining about it outside all the time. I’ll get that radio, see if I can hear any chatter, and tell them where to find you. ”

I need more time, she thought, but she knew that she wouldn’t get it. Not now. Her deadline had been set for her—by Joseph, by John, and even a little bit by Burke. She was this close to being done, to being—

Free.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, yes, I can do that. I’ll ask them to take me to the ranch, and—I can do that.”

“I know,” Burke said, and he had never sounded more confident; he planted his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, the clarity having returned from his Bliss-induced high. He hesitated, and then said, “The ceremony—”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want you to know,” he plunged on, “it doesn’t matter, but I want you to know that you aren’t… That isn’t all of who you are.” His hands squeezed shoulders, the pressure welcoming and comforting and nauseating all at once. How strange, that kindness sickened her, now. “Wrath.”

Elliot paused, swallowing thickly. “I should go,” she said, because Burke still didn’t know what she’d done to Kian, still didn’t know the full extent of her body count or the way she’d felt when she killed a man. How it felt good, now—satisfying, an instant hit of dopamine centered around control.

“The back window,” Burke said, gesturing. “So the guards don’t wonder.”

“It’s all very exciting,” Elliot added. She tried for lightness, pushing the window up. “Subterfuge.”

“Just try not to say that where anyone can hear you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We’ve nearly collected the last of the supplies,” Joseph said, pacing absently back and forth. “How long do you think, Jacob?”

“A day, at most,” the redhead replied. “They’re working quickly, without all of these interruptions.” Jacob paused, and then turned his gaze at John. His mouth twisted for a moment, and John could tell his older brother was trying not to smile when he continued, “What’s your timeline, John?”

“The same,” John replied tightly.

“A day at most?”

“No, the same as before,” he clarified, even though he knew Jacob was doing it on purpose. “You gave me a timeline and that’s what I’m working with.”

“It’s just, you sounded very confident about your ability to wrangle the deputy,” his eldest brother continued, “and you’ve always been an overachiever.”

Joseph was looking at him expectantly. John knew that they wanted him to say that Elliot had insisted on doing it sooner, that she’d fully acquiesced to staying with him, that he had fully convinced her, down to every molecule of her being, that what they were doing was right and just and undeniably truthful.

But he hadn’t. Their conversation this morning only proved that more to him. You can’t have both, she’d said, like she still thought of herself as a separate entity from him, from his family. But she wasn’t; where else would she find people who would accept her, unconditionally?

Well, mostly unconditionally. There was one condition: believing. The most difficult one for her, he thought.

“I can spend more time with her,” Faith supplied, helpfully. “Maybe she’s tired of being around you boys all the time. You can be...” Her gaze flickered, and she tilted her chin a little, smiling. “A little heavy-handed. It’s possible that a lighter touch is necessary to bring the deputy around.”

“First, you should stop calling her that,” John pointed out, and he felt a little more than petulant saying it. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Elliot was naturally inclined to open up to Faith more easily, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it did still bother him, sitting right in the back of his mind. Always away but never forgotten. “Continuing to refer to her as “the deputy” is only going to further cement her ties to her past life.”

“Well,” Jacob demurred, “we can’t all call her baby, can we, John?”

“If you have a problem with me enjoying the marital bed,” John bit out, “then I think perhaps you spend some time reflecting inwardly on why that’s such a—”

The door to the chapel creaked as it was pushed open. Swallowing back his words quickly, he turned and glanced over his shoulder to see Elliot, hesitating in the doorway. Boomer lingered just behind her, sat at the bottom of the stairs, ever obedient.

“I can come back,” she said, sounding uncertain.

“Not at all,” Joseph replied, before John could tell her maybe that would be best. “Please, come in.”

She did, letting the door swing shut behind her, and moved tentatively toward the front. He wondered how it felt for her—coming in here, with all of them looking at her, much the same way she had the day that set the events in motion that brought her back to them.

John wondered, too, if Joseph had known this all along; if the things that he heard and saw had shown him that Elliot would always come back here, to them. Our deputy, he’d always said, without fail.

“I want to do it,” Elliot said, as she approached. “Soon. As soon as possible.”

Silence reigned supreme for a moment, before John said, “That’s great, Elliot. We can get started with—”

“But I don’t want to do it here,” she interrupted, bringing John’s mouth to a full stop.

“More fucking demands,” Jacob muttered under his breath.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Joseph said, watching her curiously. The way they had been, he was the closest to Elliot, with a table separating her from John. His fingers itched. “If you’re worried about the safety of it, I am sure John is more than equipped to—”

“This is supposed to be cleansing, isn’t it?” Elliot asked. “Regardless of how you feel, Joey’s body was put on display here. I don’t want this to be the place where I...”

Her voice trailed off, and her gaze darted elsewhere, mouth pressing into a thin line. John said, “I don’t think going somewhere else would be a problem. Where did you have in mind?”

“The ranch,” she replied, sounding relieved. “Feels fitting.”

As John stifled a smile, Joseph said, “Well, we’ll need to clear out the bodies, but I’m sure that can be done.”

“That’s manpower,” Jacob protested.

“You were just talking about how quickly they were getting things done,” John replied. “Weren’t you? Ahead of schedule. Over-achieving, I think.”

Jacob’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click and grind of his molars, and for once, John felt a sweeping thrill of victory. It was coming together, right there, in front of him—in front of his brothers, and Faith. All of the witnessing the fruits of his labor.

“Fine,” Jacob acquiesced, at last. “But it’ll take them a few hours.”

“Perfect.” John smiled, looking at Elliot across the table, Joseph’s figure nearly eclipsing her. “Then Elliot and I will head out as soon as we hear that the bodies have been properly disposed of.”

“There’s one more thing,” Elliot began, looking uncertain, and drawing all eyes back to her again even as Joseph had moved to place his hand on Faith’s shoulder. When they had watched expectantly for long enough, she continued, “I want—everyone there.”

“Everyone?” John asked, the word souring in his mouth.

“Not—of Eden’s Gate. Just… All of you,” she elaborated.

John could feel the surprise, bubbling fresh and unexpected, between his siblings as they exchanged glances.

“Even me?” Jacob asked, and John saw the grin splitting across his face.

“Even you,” Elliot replied, dryly. “Against my better judgment, I’m sure.”

“I’m touched, honey.”

Clearing his throat, John walked around the table briskly, muttering a quick excuse us as he guided Elliot away from the front of the chapel and down the walkway a little.

“You want my family there?” he asked, keeping his voice low as his siblings chatted quietly amongst themselves. Jacob was grinning wolfishly, looking very pleased with himself, which was something John didn’t necessarily like. “Normally, it’s more of a—a private affair, and that’s how I pictured it with you—”

“This is important to me,” Elliot said, watching him. “And they’re important to you. Aren’t they?”

John swallowed. “Well, yes, but…”

“John,” she murmured, her fingers loosely tangled with his, “I’ll stay, after.”

He blinked at her. “You’ll—?”

“Yes.” Her gaze flickered over his, her voice low as she struggled through the words. “I’ll stay here, with you—and your family. After it’s done. I just… Need to close the chapter.”

I fucking did it, he thought, certain that he was going to grin like a complete maniac if he didn’t keep himself in check. I fucking got her. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they doubted me.

“Of course,” he managed out, somehow keeping his voice steady despite the rush of butterflies banging against his rib cage. “Of course, hellcat, anything you want.”

“Okay.” She paused, and then reached up and kissed him—willingly, of her own volition, in front of his siblings, she kissed him, and then sat back on her feet. “In a day, then?”

“In a day,” John promised, their noses brushing. “We’ll really belong to each other.”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered. She looked a little more tired than before, but it was hard to tell this close; and if it bothered her at all—if it was changing her mood—it didn’t show. He felt her smile against his mouth.

“Yes,” she murmured, just the way that he liked. “Completely.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jacob stopped by the bunkhouse with Joseph that evening to let him know they’d dispatched the men to clean out the ranch of any remaining corpses; they’d do it through the night, to better assist Elliot in her revelations. It seemed that the members of Eden’s Gate were just as relieved as the siblings themselves that the deputy was no longer and adversary, but joining them.

Which still left the matter of Cameron Burke.

“I say we kill him,” Jacob announced, glancing over John’s shoulder to ensure Elliot wasn’t there—and never before had John been more grateful for the blonde’s need to go on exorbitantly long walks out of the compound. “Quick and easy.”

“Well,” John said, “that is what I had thought you intended before, yet here we are, with him still on our hands.”

“We are lucky that our brother cares so much as to run our deputy through such trials,” Joseph interceded serenely, before a spat could break out. “And that she passed. With flying colors, I think.”

“That’s a little generous.”

“At any rate, that we’ve moved up this celebration for her is good,” the blonde continued. “I hear that the Family may not all be finished. Jacob mentioned that his scouts saw movement, out close to the Whitetails.”

John frowned. No good, he thought, but then—what about all of those dead couples he and Elliot had seen? Paired, holding hands, flowers blooming from wherever they could fit them? How was it determined which ones would off themselves and which ones stuck around?

“Now that we have all of the supplies we need,” Jacob said, “we don’t have to worry about getting rid of them.” He shrugged. “Let the apocalypse finish them off.”

“Well.” John clapped his hands together. “I’ve quite a day to prepare for tomorrow, I think. And when it’s all done, we’ll be ready to settle in.”

Joseph and Jacob exchanged looks, just for a moment, before Jacob said, “Night, Johnny,” and set off, leaving Joseph alone in front of the doorway to the bunkhouse. When he looked at John, his expression unreadable, something uneasy crawled and settled down at the base of his spine.

“I have something for you,” Joseph said. “Come with me to the chapel?”

Trying not to recognize that dread, lest he give it more legs than it already had, John nodded his head. “Of course. Though, you know you never have to…”

“It’s the least I could do,” his brother interjected lightly, waiting patiently as he closed the door to his temporary base of operations and then fell into step with him to the chapel. The evening was brisk and chilly, and when Joseph said, “And where is our deputy?” John stifled a rueful smile.

“Taking a walk, with Faith,” John replied. “And the dog, of course.”

“Of course.” He saw a smile ticking the corner of his brother’s mouth, small and almost imperceptible. “It’s nice that they get along, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he agreed, “like she was always meant to be with us.”

Joseph paused outside the chapel’s doors, reaching up and giving John’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just like.”

They stepped inside. It was cool and quiet; nobody remained. The radio flickering through channels was the only noise, and they rang empty and static, not a peep out there. He wondered if the remaining members of the Family were just looking for a place to rest, or a way to get out; maybe they didn’t want anything, anymore.

He followed his brother to the front of the chapel. On the table was the map they’d been using, a few scribbled notes in Jacob’s hand-writing, and a manila envelope.

Joseph picked up the envelope and held it out to John. He took it, and then glanced inquisitively up at his brother.

“Is this—?”

“Her file,” Joseph confirmed. “What we gathered on her prior to the Collapse. Also in there are my notes from her confession, as well as what appears to be diary entries, recovered from where Kian had tried to hunt the two of you.”

Holy shit, John thought, because sitting in his hands was the exact thing that he’d wanted from the beginning. Everything that he wanted to know about Elliot was right there: waiting to be read, devoured, committed to memory. He would know every single part of her, every wretched thing she had ever done, every loss she had ever suffered, every—

“And,” Joseph continued, “your marriage certificate.”

John glanced up at his brother. Suddenly, the envelope felt—different. Like an ultimatum. If he learned all of this about Elliot, and she got suspicious because he suddenly knew so much about her, and she asked where he found out and he told her—and he would have to tell her—she’d want to see it and then. And then.

And then.

“I think it’s time, John,” his brother said. “I know that you haven’t told our deputy about this arrangement. She is your wife, after all, before the eyes of this congregation and God.”

“Right,” John murmured, swallowing. “Yeah, of course. I planned on it. After tomorrow. It feels fitting, to tell her then.”

Maybe it would be better to tell her in the bunker, he thought absently, and then shoved that immediately away. No, fuck, no, I have to tell her. Tomorrow, after we finish everything.

“Good.” Joseph smiled, and for the first time in a long time he smiled with teeth, and the expression on his brother’s face almost unnerved him. He reached up, and his fingers brushed the nape of John’s neck, tilting him forward so that their foreheads pressed together.

Relief, hot and overwhelming, washed straight through him. They had been so at odds that John thought he might have forgotten what it was like to be in his brother’s good graces, but here he was.

“I am so proud of all that you have done for me, for our family, for Eden’s Gate.” Joseph’s voice rang in the hollow of his bones, vibrating straight through him, spiking in him a delirious rush of pride. “You have done so well, John, despite all that God has done to test you.”

Oh, there it was: everything in him said, finally, finally, finally, someone sees me, and he was reminded of why it was he owed Joseph so much. Because he gave him this.

“I’m—” John felt the words choke and stutter on the way out of him. It was almost too much—the finish line was in sight. Elliot had said, you can’t have both, but he could. He could, and he was going to, and it was here right in front of him.

Waiting.

“Thank you,” he managed out. “Thank you, Joseph. I only ever wanted to make you proud.”

“I know.” Joseph smiled, hand pressed against the back of John’s head, holding him gently. “I know.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leaving the chapel, John was cruising on cloud nine; he had everything. Everything. Nobody was going to take it from him. No stupid cult, no last-minute hail mary’s from the opposing team—

As he passed by a window into the bunkhouse that had been Elliot’s before Burke had made it his home, John stopped and leaned against the siding of the house, tapping on the window. Burke was sitting at the table, leaned back, eyes closed; when the sound of John’s finger against the glass rattled again, he opened one eye.

John waved, and grinned. “Hi, bud.”

Burke stared at him. He gestured for the Marshal to push his window up, and after a few exasperated gestures, he did—reluctantly.

“Seed,” he said, tiredly. “Particular reason you’re not fuckin’ off?”

“Just wanted to stop by,” John replied slyly. “See how you were holding up. The impending apocalypse must be weighing heavily on you.”

Burke stared at him for a moment. He worked a toothpick between his teeth. His hands and feet were both cuffed, and the guards standing outside of the bunkhouse seemed to be concerned with his tone when he said, “Can’t wait to beat that shit-eating grin off of your face.”

“That’s not very professional,” John drawled. “Won’t that look poorly, in front of all of your little friends?”

“They’ll avert their eyes to let me give you some extra special attention.” Burke lifted his chin, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and spitting out the window, nearly landing on John’s shoes. “Promise.”

Impudent, John thought. Burke really just couldn’t let him have a moment, could he? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Marshal,” he said, straightening up from the window and taking a step away. “I like it rough.”

And then he paused, turning on his heel like a swivel and lifted a finger thoughtfully.

“If you want some pointers on what I like,” he added pleasantly, “you can always ask Elliot.”

Burke’s eyes narrowed. “Your little brainwashed cultist? I think I’ll pass.” he asked, and John’s smile plummeted, wiped off of his face.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he hissed. “You’re the failing party here, Cameron Burke. You’re going to be the one suffering when the End comes for you.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Burke replied, “better get goin’, shouldn’t you?”

John’s teeth snapped together with a click, pain shooting up through his jaw as his molars ground. Petulant and arrogant, all the way to the very end, wasn’t he? He supposed that made it a little bit better that Jacob was going to off him.

He had everything he wanted, and not even Cameron Burke was going to take that from him.

John flashed a smile, all teeth, and held his arms out. “I suppose I should,” he replied. “Have a nice ceremony tomorrow to prepare. Though, I don’t have to tell you—you’ll be there for it, won’t you? A front row seat and all.”

Even in the dark of the growing evening, he could see Burke’s jaw clench. The Marshal pulled back from the window and slammed it shut, signaling his exit from the conversation; if John had been in a worse mood, he would have stormed right in there and shown Burke exactly what the consequences were for trying to run the show.

But there wasn’t time, because just as he was debating the logistics of doing so, he heard a dog barking in the distance and the sound of familiar voices.

“Hi, John,” Faith sing-songed at him, swinging Elliot’s hand in her own as they approached. “Isn’t it a bit late? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” John replied with a quick smile, which was not necessarily a lie.

“Too excited,” his sister agreed playfully.

As they approached, he could see the circles beneath Elliot’s eyes had darkened. She really wasn’t sleeping, was she? Reaching up with his free hand as soon as she was close enough, he brushed some loose strands of hair from her face and guided her close, his fingers tangling into her hair at the base of her skull and his mouth finding her temple. Faith giggled and waved her fingers at Elliot, breezing past him on her way to the chapel.

He asked, “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“It was dark,” Elliot replied, by way of explanation. Boomer sniffed around their feet and then cocked his head, listening while his eyes fixed on the dark treeline. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” John asked, distracted by Boomer’s sudden alertness. “Oh, the envelope?”

“No, John, this stupid fucking Hot Topic belt I’ve seen you wear all the time.” Elliot pulled back to look at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Yes, the envelope.”

He opened his mouth to respond, trying to decide if he wanted to be upfront with her about it or not; he was so caught up in his decision that he didn’t even have the time to be offended by her remark about his belt before he said, “We should go back to our house, don’t you think? The company here’s a little sour.”

Elliot’s gaze swept around curiously, and when she spotted Burke through the window, she said, “Ah.”

“You never did tell me how your talk went,” he added, taking her hand and beginning to pull her away. “Good? Bad?”

The blonde watched him for a moment, like he’d said something a little too suspicious. “It really bothers you when you don’t know what exactly is going on, doesn’t it?”

John feigned a pleased smile. “It’s my job to know what’s going on.”

“I thought it was your job to talk incessantly?”

“I am multi-faceted.”

They reached the door to their shared space—and that was a nice little thought, their space, like they had a place that belonged to the two of them—and as Elliot stepped inside, she said, “Burke wanted to know what had happened.”

John closed the door behind them, pausing and looking at her for a moment; he tried to glean any insight he could out of her expression, but he couldn’t. He could only see quiet exhaustion sitting on her face, just there, just within his reach.

“And?” he prompted, when she failed to elaborate. She walked into the bathroom and turned the water on, washing her face; quickly, John opened the envelope and thumbed through the documents until he found what he was looking for. He slid the paper beneath the nightstand beside the bed and shut the envelope, smoothing the metal pins out. There, he thought, like it was never opened.

“I told him the truth,” Elliot replied from the bathroom, shutting the water off. “About the Family. About—you. And your siblings.”

“Well, he did refer to you as my ‘little brainwashed cultist’, so I imagine that conversation didn’t go well.”

The blonde stepped out of the bathroom, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him for a moment. That was answer enough, he supposed—whatever friendliness had lingered between Elliot and Burke seemed to have been decimated by the reality of their situation.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“It’s your file,” John said, plainly. Elliot’s jaw tensed.

“My file,” she reiterated.

“Yes. All of the things Joseph had on you before, including your confession to him and some papers they found in Kian’s bag of belongings. Back in the woods.”

Her eyes flickered, and she exhaled, long and tired. He could tell that she didn’t like that he had it. She had so desperately tried to keep him from knowing what it was that haunted her, though he had mostly pieced it together by now—an ex-boyfriend gone bad, the resulting fallout, all wadded up into a tiny ball of trauma that sat right in her ribs. All of those times Elliot had tried to cling to those shreds of control—and everything about her had been handed to him in a manila envelope. He imagined that it was quite frustrating.

John offered, “I haven’t looked at it.”

“Why not?”

“I thought,” he began, carefully, “that you might want it. For yourself.”

Elliot looked at him warily. “You’re just going to give it to me?”

“Elliot,” he said as he closed the space between them, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’ll give you anything you want.” John reached up, brushing his fingers against the slope of her neck, feeling the way her pulse jumped at the contact. “Besides, I have you. What do I need the file for?”

He wanted it. He wanted to read her file, learn every gritty detail about her, memorize them the same way she’d memorized his scars and tattoos with her fingers; to know her, inside and out, so that there wasn’t a single dark corner of her that he didn’t have completely.

“Throw it away,” Elliot murmured. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it anywhere. Please, just throw it away.”

“If that’s what you really want,” John agreed.

“It is.”

She leaned up and kissed him; her hands cradling his jaw and pulling him there, her mouth soft and compliant against his. He dropped the envelope in favor of getting both of his hands on her, walking her back against the nearest wall and sliding his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. Elliot’s breath stuttered and hitched prettily, but she pulled back until her mouth was just out of his reach.

Still, though her head was tilted otherwise, her fingers tugged on the front of his shirt and crowded him against her, close. If he thought about it too hard—about the way they had begun, hissing and spitting, and how they were now—he’d have thought he was dreaming, how she wanted him in her space now.

“Let’s go,” the blonde said, her voice urgent. “Tonight. To the ranch.”

“You—” John paused, watching her. “You want to go tonight? Why not tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to be here,” she murmured, “in the compound. I want—”

Elliot stopped, then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “I want to have some time,” she continued, “with you, before... Everything. Just us.” Her mouth twisted in what John thought could only be a playful smile. “Like old times.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, narrowing his eyes amusedly. “Which times are those? The times where you told me to go fuck myself, or—”

“I think you liked it.”

“Your mouth is one of my favorite things about you, yes.”

“So,” she continued, “can we go tonight?”

John, propped up against the wall with her caged between his arms, studied her for a moment. It wouldn’t be bad to get some time away from the compound that wasn’t some kind of macabre venture out into Fall’s End, haunting her with all of the things she used to have and had once been.

“Sure,” he said finally, “I don’t see why not. Just a little time for us.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Though he had been less than thrilled about the idea of Elliot being outside of the compound, Jacob had confirmed that the ranch was cleaned out of bodies and ready for them. When they swept past Burke in the bunkhouse, watching them through the window, John’s eyes went to Elliot—trying to see if there was anything in her expression, trying to see if there was a blink of affection or recognition.

There wasn’t. Elliot walked past without looking at the U.S. Marshal and swung into the driver’s side of the truck, and when John reached across the console to drop the keys in her hand, her gaze and expression were clear of any cloudiness.

When they got to the ranch, it was quiet; the lights had been left on, and while John knew that the bodies were gone and cleaned out, he still braced himself for impact when they walked in. The bookshelf had been righted again, and the strong smell of cleaning solution lingered in the air, but for the most part, everything was exactly where he’d left it.

It was a shame, then, that soon they’d be slipping underground.

“Bleach,” Elliot said, walking up the stairs after him. “How romantic.”

“It’s your mess they were cleaning,” John replied dryly, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. “In case you forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

He pushed the door open to the master bedroom, taking in a little breath and turning to look at Elliot. She was inspecting the room, and for a second, John almost felt self-conscious—that she was here, now, with him. In his home. Touching his things. Looking at him.

It was almost unnerving to think about; that some time ago, she had been viciously looking for any way out. But of course, she had come around. She was always going to come around, one way or another. He thought about the way she’d spit Go fuck yourself, John, the way she’d tried her hardest to be as obtuse and unhelpful as possible, how she’d said in the bar you can’t have both but here he was.

Here she was.

There was only one thing left standing in the way, and it was something he had all the power in the world to change if he wanted to.

“What are you thinking about?” the blonde asked, arching a brow at him loftily.

“You,” John said, and it wasn’t a lie. Her lashes fluttered and she almost looked shy, for a moment; when he reached out and tugged her close by the belt loop of her jeans, he added, “What do you think about getting married?”

With her hands steadying herself on his chest, she barked out a laugh. “In general? Or us getting married?”

“Primarily the latter.”

“I—” Elliot blinked, and shook her head. “I don’t... What do you mean, what do I think about us getting married?”

“Do you like the idea?” John prompted. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the slope of her jaw.

“We’ve barely been together,” she murmured. “And—you still piss me off.”

“That’s amore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot groaned, and John grinned, sliding his arms around her to pull her closer still. He hoisted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed; when he’d settled her there, on her back and with her legs looped loosely around his waist, she watched him for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to get married.”

John cocked his head. “Not even once?”

“Not even once.”

“And why not?”

“Why would I?” she retorted. “The only marriage I ever saw was my dad dragging my mama’s credit through the dirt and then fucking off the second he got tired of playing house. Giving up my last name to someone? Letting someone take that away from me?”

John leaned down, pushing her sweater up and pressing his mouth to the curve of her hip cutting up and over her jeans. Her breath stuttered for a moment, and she squirmed when he let his tongue slide along one of her scars.

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he said, “but marriage isn’t all about giving. It’s about receiving, too.”

He watched the heat crawl into her cheeks, undoing the button of her jeans and sliding them down until they pooled on the floor with a whisper. She said she’d never wanted to get married, but he thought after tomorrow—after she saw how beautiful it would be, to have her sin revealed and in the open—she would change her mind. For him, she would.

Elliot let out a sharp, stuttering breath. “Come here,” she said, tugging on him a little to guide him back up to her. He obliged, and she tangled her fingers into his hair and kissed him; long and patient, lips parting beneath his and her tongue flickering playfully against his mouth. She skimmed her fingers along his chest, down until she could undo his belt and pull it from the loops, discarding it on the floor.

“Miss Honeysett,” John murmured.

“John,” she replied, as her fingers deftly undid his jeans.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“You did take my pants off.”

He laughed, the sound sweeping out of him just before Elliot pulled him down into another kiss. She shifted and squirmed against him, pushing and working with her fingers until they were skin on skin. There was a second, a heartbeat of time, where Elliot paused, her gaze flickering over him.

“I want—a home,” she said, her voice quiet, “with you. I don’t have one anymore, and I...”

John dragged his fingers along the exposed skin of her sternum, down and down and down, and she sucked in a sharp little breath the second he found exactly he was looking for.

“You have it,” he replied against her mouth, and a spike of heat sprinted up his spine when he beckoned his fingers against her and she whimpered. “You have it, El, I told you—”

Elliot’s nails dug into his shoulder and she said, “John,” and her voice plunged a little when she did, pitching high and sweet and just the way that he liked it; he mouthed a spot on her neck, sighing against her skin.

“Love those sounds you make,” he murmured. “So good for me.”

“Yes,” Elliot said breathlessly, turning her head so that their noses could brush, “yes, I am, for you—so, please—”

So, please, she said, so sweetly, wanting and hurting and needy as she clutched him, as her breath hitched in anticipation when John pressed up against her, slow and without urgency.

“Is this what you wanted to come here for?” John rumbled against her mouth, breathing unsteady. “So I could f—fuck you in peace and quiet?”

The blonde moaned her agreement as she kissed him. Her body arched up against his, impatient, and when he finally pressed into her all the way, she let out a sigh, her fingers twisting in his hair.

It was too good; too tight, too hot, and the way Elliot held him close, like she thought she was going to disappear if she didn’t keep her grip on him, made the trickle of heat turn into a wildfire splitting through his body. He groaned, the pace excruciating and delicious as he made sure to take each drag as slow as possible.

“F-Fucking—faster,” Elliot whimpered against his mouth, “John—”

“No,” he ground out, slotting his hips against hers tightly before drawing back out again. “You have to—I want you just like this, hellcat—”

She made a sweet keening noise and rocked her hips up, impatient; each time she did sent another sharp jolt of desire sprinting through him, and he bit out a low swear and gripped her hip with one hand.

“Brat,” he moaned. “Wants everything her way but can’t—f-fucking—behave.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot replied, but there was no real heat in her words; she said it in a broken, stuttering breath. “What if I want you faster? What if I want you to fuck me until you just can’t stand it—”

“Stop.” John gritted the words out between his teeth; if there was one thing that sent him to his undoing, it was Elliot and her filthy mouth. “God, you—fucking—”

Elliot dragged him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and slick and wanting, and she begged, “John, I want you so badly—I need—”

And her words stuttered for a moment, like she was catching herself before she could say something that she thought might be embarrassing. John’s hand came up and pressed to her jaw, tilting her face back to him so that he could see her; gazing at him through her lashes, flushed and lips kiss-reddened and eyes dreamy and dazed.

“Tell me,” he managed out, through the haze of his own pleasure. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” Elliot moaned, “I need you, John.”

“Fuck,” John ground out. He was powerless to go against her wishes when she was looking at him like that, and saying I need you, and twisting her fingers in his hair and—

And when he snapped into her, she sighed his name like a prayer, like he was holy, and he thought that it would have been a crime not to give her what she wanted. It was almost as good as taking it slow; hearing Elliot whimper yes yes yes into their liplock as he fucked her, rough and a little unforgiving, nearly sent him spiraling.

When he slipped a hand between them, dragging the pad of his thumb across the neediest part of her, he felt her tighten; closecloseclose, it said, and Elliot made a wrecked, desperate sound and kissed him just as she came unraveled, panting his name.

His followed close behind—it hit hard, a strange, empty moment just before the ricocheting pleasure rattled around in his skeleton. John buried his face into Elliot’s neck and moaned, gripping her tight to him, and she arched up a little into him and made him hiss.

“You,” he said breathlessly into her neck, “are getting too comfortable using that filthy mouth of yours to get what you want.”

She laughed, raking her fingers through his hair. “You like it.”

“I’ve said that I do.”

“How much?” Elliot idled, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Wicked thing, aren’t you?” he asked, instead of answering her question. Her lashes fluttered, and when John leaned down and dragged his teeth against her pulse point, she made a soft, sweet sound, squirming in his arms.

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced. Having disentangled themselves and slipped under the covers, she settled back against the pillows and he was reminded, once again, of the dark circles lingering under her eyes. “Feels like I have slept a fucking wink in the compound.”

“Fine,” John agreed, kissing her temple. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, anyway.”

It took some time for them to fall asleep; Elliot slept more fitfully than he, and each time she shifted or sighed or rolled it woke him up, too. Eventually, the blonde settled with her face tucked against John’s chest, her fingers absently tracing over the shape of his scar until her breathing slowed and she drifted back off.

Sometime around three in the morning, she stirred, sliding out of bed and making her way to the bathroom. John reached over to the nightstand and picked up his watch to squint at it in the dark. He heard the sink running, and the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.

“Can’t believe it’s almost the end of November,” he said, out loud and to no one in particular, though Elliot’s head peeked out of the bathroom. She’d wrapped herself in his robe, cinching it tight around her waist.

“It is?” she asked, tiredly. “What’s the date?”

“The twenty-first.”

Elliot stilled for a moment. A strange emotion swept over her face; he thought that it was almost sadness. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

John set the watch back down on the nightstand. “Well, perfect timing then. I just gave you an incredible birthday present. How old are you turning? And why do you look so terribly distressed?”

“Fuck off,” she muttered when he grinned at her. “Twenty-six, asshole.” And then, like an afterthought: “It’s just that normally by now, I’m—”

The blonde cut herself off, and then shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly and walking back into the bathroom to turn the water off.

“Elliot?” he called. “What is it?”

“Just weird,” she replied after a minute, “being... Having a birthday. Here. Like this.”

He settled back against the pillow. “Come back to bed.”

She did as he asked, obliging him as she slid back under the blankets and covers. The robe was still on, and he pulled at the hem of it playfully. Elliot somehow looked more tired than before; and her eyes didn’t quite meet his, like she was somewhere very far away from him.

“Looks good on you,” he murmured. “Blue’s your color.”

Elliot’s attention snapped to him. “Faith said the same thing.”

“Great minds.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting to the other side in bed so that John could tug her back against his chest, burying his face into her neck. When her breathing finally slowed a little, and regulated, John felt himself finally start to relax.

I can have both, he thought, as he began to drift back off. I can, and I will.

｡☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆｡

When Elliot awoke the next morning, the first thing that she thought was, I’m late.

It hit her differently in the cold light of day, to think her period was delayed. That’s probably what it was, anyway—a delay. Lots of things could fuck around with the timing of a period, right?

The second thing she thought was, today’s the day.

Things did seem oddly calm, as they went about their morning; they showered, and John kissed her smelling like expensive soap, and his hands went to the places he loved the most—her hips, her hair, her jaw. It was like they’d fallen into a routine with each other, in just this short period of time; but then, she supposed, that was very natural to have happened, considering that they spent so much time with each other now.

“We should do it downstairs,” Elliot said as John busied himself with some coffee. Boomer had sprinted outside at the first opportunity, taking off into the treeline to burn some of his energy off.

“Downstairs?” he asked, glancing at her. “In the room?”

“Seems fitting.”

He shrugged, sliding a cup of coffee her way and leaning across the counter. “Whatever you want, baby.”

The sound of car doors closing and voices outside stirred her attention away from John’s mouth—a wholly distracting thing—but when she turned to see the Seeds walking through the front door of the ranch, she felt her stomach plummet.

“Brought a plus one,” Jacob announced, shoving Burke forward. “Hope you don’t mind.” He fixed Elliot with his gaze. “Caught him snooping around the chapel. Isn’t that weird?”

“I—” Elliot’s brain fuzzed viciously, static biting through all other noise. Burke’s lip was split and he had a nasty black eye forming. Oh, no, she thought, oh, no, no, no, no. This is so fucking bad.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I couldn’t trust anyone to keep an eye on him, so unfortunately, that is now my job.”

“No,” Elliot said abruptly, drawing all eyes on her. “I’m—I don’t want him here.”

“Elliot,” John murmured.

“Then what do you propose I do with him?” Jacob demanded.

“I don’t know, that isn’t my fucking job,” she snapped. With the siblings all looking at her, Burke took a second and very gently, very resolutely, shook his head no.

Her mind went frantic. What does that mean? Does that mean stop kicking up a fuss? Does that mean he got to the radio? Or that he didn’t? What the fuck is the plan, now?

Joseph said, gentle, “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to lose track of him, Elliot.”

She felt fingers brushing hers. John had come around the kitchen island, and now their fingers were interlaced. It felt like she was on some kind of precipice, some great, plunging cliff into a void, and all she could do was stand by hopelessly as everything pushed her towards the edge.

She didn’t want Burke to watch. She didn’t want him to see her let John carve WRATH into her skin, but most of all—most of all, she didn’t want Burke to see that maybe it would feel good, for her, a catharsis.

“Fine,” she managed out after a moment, watching Burke’s eyes flutter shut in what might have been relief. Or suffering. “Fine, whatever.”

“Well,” Joseph murmured, “shall we get started? There’s a full day ahead of us.”

As they moved down the stairs, Elliot swallowed thickly and tried to clear and compose her brain. Everything did feel just a little bit like it was too much. Joseph there, his shoulder brushing hers; Faith and John, chatting like it was nothing to have her sit down in a chair in the middle of the room where she had been kept captive; Jacob, shoving Burke into the room and on his knees.

It was too much. She would just have to pray that Burke had gotten a chance with the radio before Jacob found him.

“We’re going to have to take your shirt off,” John said, moving into her vision, and didn’t sound like he regretted that in the least. A little rush of relief coursed through her when she realized she’d be able to focus on someone familiar—none of Joseph’s prying eyes or Faith’s sweet smiles to unsettle and unseat her. Just her, and John.

“How long is this going to take?” Burke asked, his voice bordering on vicious. Jacob gave him a little jostle.

“Why? You got somewhere to be, friend?”

Elliot barely heard them. Her eyes, her thoughts, were on John; when her shirt was discarded to the side, he skimmed his fingers along her sternum, eyes bright.

“It’s going to look so good,” he murmured, and she knew that he wasn’t paying attention to them, either. He’d seemed disappointed when she asked someone else to be there, but now, it didn’t seem like it mattered at all. “Ready?”

She nodded, feeling a little swoon of adrenaline kick through her body when John left the room and returned with a knife. John looked at her expectantly. The physical acquiescence wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” Elliot said, and John’s eyes fluttered closed just for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed her—hard and open-mouthed, his fingers bruising where they gripped her shoulder.

“Fucking Christ,” Burke ground out, and John pulled away with a wicked grin.

“You and me,” he murmured against her lips, and she nodded.

John sat down. Over his shoulder she could see Burke, sitting on his knees, his face resolutely turned to the side. She turned her gaze away, too, because she didn’t want to see—didn’t want to see Burke sitting there, biting his tongue and trying not to look at her, look at her scars and the one John was going to give her and—

The sting of the first cut barely registered through the fog of her brain. It didn’t quite hit, and then her eyes flickered down and she saw the first stream of red, and it really hit, immediately slicing through the fog of adrenaline to hit sharper, harder, nastier.

Elliot exhaled a stuttering breath. It felt exactly the same as she remembered; it wasn’t so soft, on her chest like this, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation to her either. Something in her brain tripped at the pain, neurons firing rapidly; we know you, they said, as John meticulously carved the W into her skin, we know you, pain, we missed you, missed you missed you missed you.

“John,” she said, because there was a burst of panic going off in her brain like fireworks. The two parts of her—the one that self-preserved, and the one that craved this exact sting and bite—wrestled with the reality of her situation: that she was both doing and not doing the thing she had tried to deprogram out of herself.

“So good, hellcat,” John murmured, his eyes fixed on his work as he started on the R. He was fixated; he was somewhere far away from her, even as close as he was. “It’s going to look so good on you.”

And behind him, Jacob said, “C’mon, Burke, don’t you want to see what your little deputy asked for?”

“Fuck. You,” Burke bit out.

The sting, the bite; the push and pull. Elliot breathed her way through each excruciating moment, and they were excruciating, these moments, because John was utilizing every second that he had her here, like this.

And that was fine. She needed him to; both for her sake, and for Burke’s.

Something sounded like thundering up ahead, distant but out of place. It gave her a little jolt of panic. If that was what she thought it was, then—

Elliot saw Jacob’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling, narrowing; she managed out, “Slow down,” just as John paused too, to draw his attention back to her.

“Slower?” John asked, and the way he said it felt intimate, with his eyes fixed on her and his fingers red with her blood.

“Please,” Elliot breathed. Jacob looked at her for a moment, long and hard, but she didn’t meet his eyes; only looked at John, only waited patiently for him to begin.

After a moment, John said, his voice pitched low, “Anything you want.”

“I’ll be back,” Jacob said. He dropped his hand from Burke’s shoulder; John made a non-committal uh-huh sound, finishing off the unsteady cross of the T. She hissed, squirming in her seat at the pain, drawing Jacob’s attention for just a second long before he made his way out of the room.

The H followed next. As soon as he finished, John pulled back to admire his work; there was still a bit of bruising, but most of it was up on her shoulder, not her chest, which was now doused in crimson. Wiping his hands off with a towel, he beamed at her; all teeth and bright eyes.

“What a relief, don’t you think?” Joseph asked, his voice idle and distracted as he glanced up at the ceiling inquisitively. “To have it all out there.”

John flashed a smile at his brother, clearly pleased. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said to Elliot, coming to a stand. “We’ll have to let it heal for a while to see how it’s going to scar, and then we can go back in and—”

Before John could finish his sentence, Elliot heard the sound of car doors slamming outside, and Jacob’s voice, asking something in a demand, and then a volley of responses: it was hard to hear, a floor down, but she thought they were saying get down, get down.

“What is going on?” Joseph asked, his voice verging on something other than cool and calm, and the sound of it filled Elliot with a bright spark of joy: yes, she thought viciously, coming to a stand and feeling around for her shirt while her eyes stayed on the Seeds, yes, you fucking cockroach, squirm.

“I don’t know,” John said, stepping toward the door. “Stay here.”

He only took two more steps before the sound of Jacob shouting something above them, followed by a gunshot, and then a loud cacophony of footsteps above them.

“Jacob,” Faith breathed, her eyes wide and panicked. “Something’s happened, Father, we have to—”

“Stay,” John barked out, suddenly all business as he was hauling Burke up to his feet. “I think our friend the Marshal would like to take a look first, make sure nothing is dangerous.”

But Burke was grinning when his feet righted themselves on the ground. He sucked his teeth, looked directly at Joseph, and said, “Time’s up, fuckhead.”

Burke’s words send her stomach somersaulting. So he had gotten to the radio. He had, just in time, which meant he’d been caught just after, and now—

Now he was here, and so were all of the Seeds, too.

I fucking did it, she thought hazily, bracing herself on the chair. Holy shit. I fucking did it.

The sound of footsteps storming down the stairs made John’s eyes flicker to the doorway, and he let go of Burke, gripping the bloodied towel loosely in his hands.

Her heart was thundering in her chest. It was hard to think through the haze of pain, the stinging and burning of the cuts on her chest, but it was there, if she tried hard enough to look: hope.

But Joseph wasn’t looking at John. He was looking at Elliot.

“You,” the Father hissed, as Elliot pulled the shirt away from her chest, sticky-wet with blood. “You did this. I know you did, you fucking locust, I knew it the second you stepped foot in my chapel—brought us all here, rounded us up like lambs for the slaughter—”

“What do you mean?” John demanded. “Elliot has been with me since this whole—”

Things moved very quickly, then: through the fog of pain, Elliot heard one, two, three heavy thuds against the door before wood splintered and came crashing down, the instant array of green sights set on them—all of them, her included—and the sound of voices demanding their hands go up.

Elliot watched Joseph, hands at his sides.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Joseph ground out, his voice vicious, the rage splitting across his face almost as delicious as the fear. Faith was crying, and saying something through her tears, as John lifted his hands obediently.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of the SWAT members hauling Burke out of the room first. She looked at Joseph and arched a brow at him, lifting her hands obediently when the order was shouted again.

“Oh, Father,” she sighed, her voice cloying and sweet and just between the two of them, “did God not tell you about this part?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things were going poorly.

That is to say, Jacob had a gunshot to the shoulder that was currently being patched while he was in handcuffs—“Can’t have you bleeding out on us, can we?” the medic said, a little too gleefully, until Jacob said something along the lines of I’m gonna rip your fucking face off—and Faith was crying, and Joseph was seething, furiously whispering to himself and held in place by one of the other U.S. Marshals.

Elliot was in cuffs, too, but Burke seemed to be talking furiously with the man who had cuffed her, occasionally interrupted when Elliot would try and draw his attention back to John.

This won’t do, he thought, as panic pounded through his body, as his heart hammered against his chest. All of his siblings, in handcuffs, and Elliot too; she was, too, but she looked—

Fine.

She looked fine, and he thought about what she’d said. You can’t have both, and then she’d immediately gone back on that. Of course she had. Of course, because she was wretched and wicked and clever, and she had never truly let go of her hatred for Joseph, but they were married. They were married, and the U.S. government was going to know about it before they stuck her on a stand to testify against any of his siblings.

“I need to speak to her,” John said to the officer holding him. “The woman, there. That’s my—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” the man replied sharply, “except shut your mouth and wait patiently for us to load you and the rest of your fucking brood into the van.”

“She’s my wife,” John bit out viciously. “And she’s in cuffs, I would like to speak with my wife—”

“What did you just say?”

It was Elliot’s voice, sharp and clear and splitting through the distance between them. In the chilly Autumn afternoon, John felt the spike of pure adrenaline race through him at her tone, at the way her head snapped to him and she shouldered her way past Burke. The officer had taken her cuffs off.

Burke said, “Rookie,” in warning, but it didn’t matter, John knew; they had never been able to ignore each other, in love or in war.

“I said,” John reiterated, “you’re my wife.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Elliot demanded.

“That night,” he began urgently, “that night that you were feeling unwell after your walk with Faith, and we talked about leaving—”

Elliot started, her voice hitching, “John, what did you do—”

“—we talked about other things, too,” he plunged on. “I didn’t tell you, Elliot. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be the right time. I was going to tell you today, after we were done—I was going to tell you that we talked about it and I asked you if you wanted to marry me, and you told me yes—”

“Stop,” she moaned, agonized. “Stop—fucking—talking—you didn’t, John, you fucking didn’t lie to me again about this thing that you know I hate—”

“And you signed the certificate. It’s back at the compound,” John finished, trying to lean around the officer. “We’re married. You and me, hellcat, just like we say, you and—”

He saw the slap coming before it hit, but it definitely took a few seconds for the pain to actually register in his brain. And oh, then it hit; Elliot had swung her hand with the same amount of force she might have if she were close-fist punching him, but her palm connected with this side of his face and sent a sharp, red-hot shot of pain blooming and blurring behind his eyes.

Dazed, John blinked and tried to focus his attention again as the officer jostled him out of her reach. He was vaguely aware of Burke moving toward them as Elliot gritted out between her teeth, “How fucking dare you.”

“Ell,” John said, and there was blood in his mouth, his lip split from the impact of her hand. “Listen to me—”

Burke, louder and closer: “Elliot.”

“No, you listen to me, you fucking rat!” Elliot’s voice was pitching higher in volume, and higher in frequency and hysteria. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I told you, I fucking told you what was going to happen if you lied to me again—you fucking—I’m going to fucking kill you—”

John saw Burke sling an arm around Elliot’s waist just as she lunged again, seething and furious, holding her tight against his chest as she clawed at his arms to get free. His mouth against her hair, he said, “Rookie, take a breath.”

“You take a fucking breath!”

He hauled her, all five feet and four inches of her, turning her away from John, like breaking her eyesight with him would save him the trouble of having to cuff her.

“Elliot,” John called, trying to lean past the officer, “I forgive you—”

“Fuck! You!”

“—marriage is hard work, but I know,” he continued, grinning when she finally pulled herself out of Burke’s grip, “that you’re just the woman for the job.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Every line in her expression was pulled tight with fury, and yes—John thought he should have told her sooner, maybe, but if she was going to find out, what better time to find out than in front of the very men who wanted to put her on the stand?

“Don’t you remember what you said last night? You need me,” he tried again, and he could tell the officer holding his shoulders was getting tired of him leaning around all the time. “I love you, Elliot, through sickness and in health, no matter how many—”

“Oh, John,” Elliot breathed out, like she almost couldn’t get a full lungful of air, she was so out of breath. She swayed on her feet exhaustedly, her mouth twisting around the next sentence that came out of her mouth: “I want a fucking divorce.”

The words plunged John straight into a panic, the kind that made it feel like there was a feeding frenzy going on under his skin. This was not how things were supposed to unfold. This was not how it was supposed to go. Elliot was going to be upset, sure—but he had taken great pains to make sure that she knew he was the only thing left for her, after it all. She was supposed to upset, and then see that it had been for her, it was always for her, for them. Everything he’d done, every step he’d taken, every—

She’s mine, he thought, his face still stinging, dull and hot, from her slap. Burke was saying something to her. That’s my fucking wife, whether she likes it or not.

No one was going to take her from him. Not Joseph or Jacob, not Cameron Burke, not even her. No one was going to put a serial murderer and the wife of a religious group’s lawyer on the stand. He’d make fucking sure of that.

“You think you’re gonna move on from this, El?” he demanded, managing to shoulder around the officer to make eye contact with her. His voice came out tight, sharp—slowly and purposefully careening, but he hated the strike of strange hysteria that wormed its way in there, too. “I watched you slaughter at least a hundred people in the name of “justice”—you beat a man to death with a blunt object, and you liked it—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot ground out. She made to move at him, nails digging into her palms, but Burke hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her back again, much like before.

“You think you’re gonna move on and meet some nice little country boy who’s gonna love you even with all that fucking red in your ledger?” Oh, he was careening—all of the control slipping out from between his fingers, like sand. “No fucking way, baby, I’m it for you!”

“Rook,” Burke said, but there was no follow-up which made it worse; Burke said one word—one tiny little pet name—and Elliot’s attention immediately snapped to him.

John had never been made to feel like he was nothing; not like this.

“Look at me,” he snapped, and Elliot’s eyes turned to him; but he saw the fury split across her face, the absolute indignant rage. “You’re going to spend one day back in polite society and come unglued, Elliot Honeysett, and when you fucking do—you’ll be begging for me to take you back, and I guarantee you I fucking won’t.”

“That’s enough,” Burke said, but he was speaking to Elliot, looking at her.

“Maybe,” she hissed, pushing at Burke’s arm as blood seeped through the wound on her chest “you should have considered how I would react to you being a pathological liar before you fucking came inside me, you cunt.”

Her words sent a strange, uncomfortable sensation sprinting down his spine. She couldn’t be, John thought, alluding to—

But she had been surprised when he told her it was her birthday, like she hadn’t realized what day it was, and had said something like, normally by now I’m, and just hadn’t finished her thought.

“Okay.” Burke pulled her back a few more steps, his voice strained. Pulled her away from him. “We’re taking a walk. You and me, Rookie.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” John called after her, panic rising in his voice. “Elliot? Tell me what you—”

“I mean I’m late, fuckhead,” Elliot spit at him over Burke’s shoulder.

The officer pulled him back towards the truck, dragging him by his arm as Burke took Elliot around the corner of the ranch house. His stomach was lurching nauseatingly, trying to piece it together. Had it been long enough? Of course, it had—it had been over a month, probably, maybe even more because he didn’t know how to keep track of time when he’d been drugged and kidnapped and dragged around.

If she is, he thought, frantic; if she does have my child, if she’s—

“John,” Joseph said, his voice eerily quiet as he was pushed into a sitting position across from his brother. He seemed to have recovered from his outburst earlier; there was an odd grimness about his expression. “We must remain focused.”

“She—” John blinked rapidly, trying to gather his fraying, desperate thoughts. “Joseph, she might—”

Joseph lifted a finger to his lips to signal silence. Jacob’s breathing was labored but controlled, and Faith’s gentle crying had been snuffed out. She’d only been the damsel for a few minutes before she tried to storm her way out of their grip.

“The task at hand,” Joseph cautioned him. “Then, we will figure out what to do for your son.”

My son. The words echoed hazily in his brain as the van doors slammed shut, eclipsing them.

“How do you know?” John demanded. “You know? You know that she’s—with my—”

“Of course,” his brother replied, still keeping his voice soft.

“God told me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Take a breath.”

“No.”

“Rookie.” Burke’s voice was hard. “Look at me and take breath.”

She couldn’t. Every inch of her body was screaming—desperate for a reprieve, but there was none to be had because she was still nursing her WRATH wound, because she was heaving out great, panicked breaths between ragged cries.

“I can’t,” Elliot moaned, her hands shaking, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Burke snagged her hand and pressed it to his neck, just like before, but this time it didn’t do anything; this time, she just felt the spiral hit harder, the overwhelming sensation of touching and being touched sending her brain sprinting in panic.

She yanked her hand out of his grip and clutched her knees to her chest, ignoring the warm seep of blood even against the bandages the medic had patched her with and the sting of the pressure of her bones pressed up against the wound.

Burke stayed, and she noticed. He stayed, and he didn’t have to—he was done, free, could leave and go home—but he stayed sitting there with her, against the side of the Seed ranch, wherein many ways, things for her had began.

So, she cried; she sobbed into her jeans until she thought she was going to be dizzy from gasping for air, and Burke stayed, and waited until her hand fumbled for his blindly before he touched her again. His fingers gripped hers, firm and soothing.

“Is it true?” he asked, when she had stopped her crying, when she had breathed so much there was too much oxygen in her brain. His gaze flickered over her. “That you’re… With that fucker’s…”

“I don’t know,” Elliot replied, exhausted. “I’m—fuck, I’m late, and I didn’t realize until yesterday, because it’s been so fucking—”

Burke passed his free hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” and the words came out of her agonized; because she could hear the disappointment in his voice, or what she thought was disappointment. “I thought—I thought he—Burke, I—”

“I know, Rook,” Burke murmured, not unkindly. “Just focus on breathing. I know.”

A few more moments of silence passed between them, filled only with the sound of voices and out and the kick of an engine starting and pulling out from the ranch. After her breathing had evened out again, Burke said, “They’re going to be retrieving Kian’s body.”

Elliot stared at the ground, feeling numb. He didn’t have to say; she knew what that meant. Government officials were going to see what she’d done to Kian. They were going to see it, and see that she was legally married to one of them, and see that she was carrying the child of one of them, and see her history, and all of these things were going to add up.

The picture was not going to be a good one.

“I’ve gotta take you in, Rook,” Burke said quietly. “At the very least, to a therapist.”

She sniffed. I love you, John had said, after he’d lied. Lied, and lied, and lied, and used her, and lied, and if he loved her, he didn’t love her in any way that she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.”

“I know what you’ve been through, and you know I’ll vouch for you. I saw firsthand the kind of—the shit that was going on,” he insisted. “I just—want you to have a realistic picture of what it’s gonna look like, when we get back. They’re gonna autopsy Kian’s body, and—”

She took in a long, suffering breath. “I’m really tired,” Elliot said, her voice breaking a little. “Can we—are we going straight there, or?”

Burke paused, his expression softening, and shook his head. “We’ll hit a motel or two along the way.”

Elliot nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her face back into her knees. She stayed like that for a while; it was hard to tell how much time passed, but eventually, someone came around the corner and said something to Burke, and he tugged her to her feet and walked her to the car.

The sensation of Burke’s hand slipping out of hers sent another burst of panic flooding through her; her body was so tired, so very fucking tired of managing the adrenaline, but the more she tried to calm down the more tired she got.

“I want to stay with you,” she said, feeling hazy and tightening her hand around Burke’s. The Marshal looked at her for a long moment and then nodded.

“Alright, kid,” he murmured, reaching up and squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll stick together.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Time passed differently, after that. Elliot couldn’t have said how long it took them to get to the first motel; it couldn’t have been seconds, or minutes, or months for all that she knew. She was numb when they set her up in a motel room with two beds, she was numb when they checked her scar and redressed it.

“Fucking Christ,” the medic said under his breath when he saw the WRATH wound, still hot and trying its best to scab over. “You poor thing.”

It’s not me, Elliot thought miserably, opening her mouth; but no words would come. All she could think was, I asked for this, I’m not the poor thing, please don’t.

“Hey,” Burke barked out, his voice sharp as he took in Elliot’s crumpling expression. “Let’s get it cleaned and let her sleep, buddy.”

The medic nodded, thoroughly scolded, and worked quickly after that. When he’d finished and she had swallowed two Tylenol dutifully, Burke watched her climb under the covers of the bed and said, “I’ve gotta make a call. You okay in here?”

She swallowed thickly. He was looking at her like he was wary of her. The same way Whitehorse had looked at her.

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a tight, tired smile and then stepped out of the motel room, closing the door behind him. Silence lingered there for a little while; Elliot tried to close her eyes and sleep, her fingers brushing through Boomer’s fur as he dozed, but the low, murmuring sound of Burke talking just outside stirred her anxiety, and each time she closed her eyes she just saw John’s face.

John, holding her face and kissing her, You and me. John, burying his face into her neck, I love you.

John, their noses brushing, We can have a place to belong, Elliot.

John, vicious and unyielding, I’m it for you.

She lurched out of the bed, pushing her way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her just in time to lean over the toilet and throw up whatever was left in her stomach—which wasn’t much, if the amount of dry-heaving were any indication. Bile burned at the back of her throat, and she thought if she didn’t get a breath of air she was going to fucking die.

Elliot pushed the window open and tried to steady her breathing. Rinsing her mouth out in the sink, she shut the water off and paused, looking at herself in the mirror.

The person that looked back at her was unfamiliar. A stranger. She blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself, but each time she did, she felt less and less familiar with the gaunt, sharp-faced, dark-eyed stranger gazing back at her from the mirror. Some bruises along her neck and shoulders still remained.

Who are you? She thought, tiredly. The one that killed all of those peggies? The one that killed Kian? Why don’t I recognize you?

“... understand that, sir, it’s just—if you saw what was going on...”

Burke’s voice drifted in through the window. He must have been pacing, because the volume of his words drifted and moved, as though he were walking around the corner and then back again.

His footsteps paused. “No, I have not read the autopsy report yet. I didn’t think it pertinent at this time, considering we only just—”

She heard Burke’s words cut abruptly, the sound of his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale, and then he said, “Jesus Christ. No, I didn’t know.”

Oh, she thought hazily, oh, he knows. He knows what I did.

Her body moved automatically. Something inside of her kicked—we’re not done yet, it said, ferocious and furious, sinking its teeth into her and operating her body outside of her own executive function. We’re not fucking done yet.

Elliot pulled her sweater and her shoes on. The late autumn chill drifting through the open window made her mind feel sharp, and clear, and she thought, somthing has to be done, and I’ll fucking do it.

She stuffed a couple of things that felt essential into a bag—painkillers, bottles of water from the fridge, Burke’s gun he’d left on the nightstand closest to the door—and then waited until she heard his footsteps pacing around the corner again before she ducked out of the window.

When she looked back, Boomer had already leapt through the window after her. His eyes were on her, bright, ready.

And then she ran.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She’s twenty-six, and she’s in a bar.

Or that’s how it would go, anyway, if she was asleep. If she were dreaming, or remembering. But she wasn’t. Elliot was twenty-six, and she was in a bar, and she wasn’t waiting for her best friend to come back with a different drink, and she wasn’t making eyes at a handsome blue-eyed stranger from across the bar. He wouldn’t come over and call her beautiful, and he wouldn’t make her want to be kissed by someone whose face looked a little sharp, and she wouldn’t one day think that maybe she was in love with him.

I’m just a girl, she thought tiredly, staring at the water glass on the counter in front of her. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

But it was. It was her life. Here she was, sitting in a seedy bar halfway to Georgia, with a U.S. Marshal’s gun she’d lifted sitting in her bag. She’d hitch-hiked a ride back into Fall’s End, grabbed what remained of her things—her ID, what little cash she still had on her, a debit card she was too paranoid to use, dog food—and then she’d taken the jeep parked out behind the Keller’s old place and drove.

And drove. And drove. And drove.

Now, she was twenty-six, sitting in a bar, and there is no Joey coming to rescue her, and there is no John to be a monster that she needed rescuing from.

I’m just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She left the cash for her water on the bar top, hauling herself out of the stool and back out into the parking lot. It was late; the sky was speckled with stars; if she thought hard enough, if she really thought about, Elliot thought maybe, somewhere inside of her, she was going to be okay.

As she climbed into the driver’s seat of the jeep, Elliot turned the key into the ignition and reached into a grocery store bag on the passenger seat, fumbling around for the cigarettes she’d purchased. Her fingers hit hard plastic and she glanced over.

The two little tiny lines on the pregnancy test stared back at her. Her stomach lurched, nausea welling up inside of her, and she tossed the hard plastic back into the bag and left the cigarettes untouched. Boomer, dozing in the back seat, pricked his ears forward and looked at her inquisitively.

She was just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. But it was—and there was only one place left to go from here.

Home.

#my writing #fic: ancient names #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic #john seed/deputy #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #not gonna melt down in the tags even though i wanna #just. thank you all so so so much. this has been incredible to write and enjoy and make so many friends #yes i am crying do not LOOK at me

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