#everything is fine shes not being forced to make waffles with him at all

[opikiquu]

gangle and jax make waffles

[leviathans-watching]

comfort (food)

day 6: midnight snacks, crying

includes: beel & asmo

wc: .6k | rated g | m.list

a/n: bad friend's suck :( .... for @ombrotherlylove2023

Stomach rumbling, Beel slides out of bed, careful not to disturb his twin. A midnight snack sounds perfect, especially since he’s pretty sure he saw some waffles in the freezer that he can combine with some of the leftover fried chicken from dinner. Levi thought he hid his leftovers well, but not well enough to keep them from him. 

Drooling at the prospect, Beel walks down the stairs, freezing when he sees someone already in the kitchen. Who else would be up at this hour, and sitting in the dark, no less? 

“I’m turning on the lights,” Beel warns, and does, revealing Asmo. Huh. Usually, he’d be asleep by now, something about body rhythm and skin health and all the stuff Beel doesn’t really get. 

“That’s bright,” Asmo mutters, shading his eyes from the sudden influx of light, but not before Beel sees how they’re red-rimmed and bloodshot. He moves to the fridge, wondering if he should say something. Asmo never cries.

Silence falls between them as Beel pulls out the waffles and finds Levi’s leftovers, but he can only take so many sniffles before he’s obligated to ask, “Is everything okay?” 

“What?” Asmo asks. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Well,” he takes a deep breath, “actually, no they’re not. But it’s stupid. So.” 

“You can still tell me,” Beel encourages quietly, putting four waffles in the toaster. His back is to Asmo, a small privacy in their kitchen. “I don’t care if it’s stupid.” 

“It’s like, really stupid,” Asmo warns, and Beel shrugs. He’s not going to force Asmo to tell him.

“Okay.”

“Well, basically, a friend of mine is being really weird and I don’t know why. I feel like she’s been excluding me and stuff, but I also wondered if it was in my head, since we’re usually so close. But then another friend of mine asked me about it, confirming it’s actually happening, which is nice because now I know I’m not crazy, but also sucks since that means she is deliberately putting distance between us,” he says in one breath. “And then I had this gut feeling, and I just checked Devilgram, and she unfollowed me! Me!” 

Beel’s not all that into social media but even he knows that’s a big deal. 

“So anyway, now I’ve been following her one-sidedly for who knows how long, looking like an idiot, and I don’t even know what I did wrong! And she’s being so rude and won’t talk to me, and it sucks because I really liked her. When people you think are cool don’t feel the same it really sucks.” 

Beel pulls the chicken out of the microwave, turning towards Asmo. “I’m sorry that’s happening,” he says seriously. “It sounds like she’s being a real jerk.”

Asmo lets out a watery laugh. “She is.” 

“She’s not worth your time. Anyone who’d blow off you doesn’t know what they’re doing,” Beel continues, words coming out a little awkwardly but heart-felt, something Asmo seems to realize. “Even if she does try to be your friend again, don’t let her. She sounds slimy and fake.” 

“Wow, you’re not holding back,” Asmo observes, and Bele shrugs again. 

“Well. She made you cry. Anyone who makes you cry is demon scum.” 

“Awww,” Asmo says, dabbing at his eyes delicately with his sleeve, “you care about me!” 

“Of course I do,” Beel says quietly, pouring syrup all over his creation. Asmo watches, raptly. 

“Enough to share that with me?”

Bele looks down, at his chicken and waffles, then back up at Asmo, who blinks pleadingly. His stomach grumbles again, but his heart lets out a stronger pang. “Fine,” he agrees reluctantly, circling the island and pulling out the stool next to Asmo’s. “Just this once, though.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[deldeldel90]

traitor Blaine au where he was always worse but in a wet cat sort of way. greyden vibes, where he's just like really mentally ill and just. Going Through It.

so he runs away after the final battle, lives in destitute, doesn't take care of himself AT ALL. he's basically just stewing in his own failures, becoming unhinged and generally unwell, doesn't sleep, doing Really Bad.

and he's trying to come up with a plan. to get revenge, because like,, he's lost everything. he's lost Father, and he still hasn't uncovered how much abuse his dad put on him bc he has zero (0) emotional awareness. he's coming up with revenge because it's the only thing that's keeping him stable and keeping him from absolutely breaking into a million pieces.

so… after a few months of planning, and not taking care of himself, becoming sick every few days and forgetting to eat and not sleeping, he has the Perfect idea. he pretends to be helpless in order to sneak into their club.

(he is helpless, but not like he’ll ever admit that.)

“i don't have a curse,” he tells them, pretending to be ashen-faced. there's blood on his fist from where he had to work his ass off in order to get a meal. it was the first one he'd eaten in about three days. “but.. i heard this place can help for more than that. is it okay if I…” he feels his throat stir. “if I can-” he stumbles over his words. his face burns in very real embarrassment.

“of course you can join,” prez says immediately. she takes his hands, cold to the touch, and puts them into her warm ones. “let's get you inside. you're all damp.”

blaine doesn't own anything better than about two pairs of outfits and a raggedy cloak. he doesn't have anything. everybody hates him, after all. he doesn't want anything. he just needs revenge.

this is what he needs… to make Father proud. to be loved again.

he tries to pry into their secrets. they force him to eat a hot meal instead. he tries to get curtis to tell him where he keeps different keys. curtis insists he gets a bath first—”and wash your hair,” he says, kindly, offering to help him do it, if he's unable to do it on his own.

“i’m fine,” blaine hisses, wondering why everyone's being so… nice to him. he ends up needing the help for his hair. his body feels so weak. his sharp mind has fog all around it.

“do you have the flu or something…?” syrah demands to know, rolling her eyes as she sets up a board game in blaine’s makeshift bedroom. “c'mon. this game’s called ‘fashion roll-two’. saff and abbi are getting the snacks.”

and more instances like this. they keep taking care of him, he keeps trying to get information and sabotage them. it won't stop.

blaine does not understand what's going on.

the cpc smile at him at every breakfast and offer him more of those sugary waffles.

here's the twist: THEY KNOW BLAINE IS LYING!!!! they know he's a trickster little bunny rabbit!!! a snake. a thieving cat, if you will. they know it all. they just see him and go, “damn bitch you live like this?”

but they see him– hurting, actively in pain, destroying himself, all while trying to hide it under a mask of pure hatred. but he cares too much.

(he always has.)

he teaches abbi the way of the sword- from what little he knows. he paints makeup onto syrah's face. he paints flower pots and gardens with saffron. he reads poetry with prez on the quiet nights. he helps curtis with the cleaning whenever he can. he plays requested songs at the piano for the club during the days where it's raining too hard outside to spend it by the campfire. he remembers all the names of the girls nobody else really looks to. he gives gwen his jacket after she made a mess of herself in the kitchen and can't help but understand why she's everyone’s little sister. aurelia and him have cat fights but he looks out for the younger girl, making sure her food is always chilled.

he tries to take revenge. tries to keep a distance and make himself hateable, tries to keep others away from him. tries to self destruct.

but they don't let him.

au name: “to befriend an enemy” or something like that :3

[lastbluetardis]

What Makes a Family Info (and another preview)

I'm almost ready to start putting this fic back into the world! I meant to have it up this week but didn't account for the fact that Destiny 2 released its franchise story finale and I turned into a braindead gaming goblin all week and lost valuable writing/editing time 😂

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, I had a multichapter Ten/Rose single parents AU story that I took down a few months ago to rewrite to better suit what I wanted from the story. Here's the summary of the story:

Single parents Rose Tyler and James McCrimmon come together to embark on a whirlwind, passionate romance that seems to be the happy ending neither of them thought they'd get. But when James's past comes back to haunt them and threatens to tear away everything they've built together, they must find a way to weather the storm that will either break them or draw them ever closer, all while answering the question of what it means to be a family.

Anyways, one of the major things I wanted to fix was the grief and healing the Tyler family needed to undergo. At times it felt like Rose and her sons were way too well-adjusted, and any scene where they were having a hard time felt like I'd forced it into the story because I'd suddenly remembered they'd lived through something traumatic not too long ago. So there will be more instances of the Tylers being not quite okay, and of people loving them through it, and hopefully that will make them all falling in love with James and Alex that much sweeter in the end.

The second major thing I'm fixing is something I wasn't actually planning to reveal until I uploaded chapter one and you'd see it for yourselves. But I decided I don't want to spring it on you out of the blue in case you were really looking forward to this particular character, so here goes: Jodie, the baby, isn't in the story anymore. I waffled on that detail for months, believe you me, because I loved her, and I loved watching everyone love her, especially James. But really, she felt like an arbitrary detail, and her presence made Rose's fast and hard romance with James feel a little unrealistic. Like. A single mom with a freaking newborn lusting over some dude... I kept cringing at the thought. Rose would have been far to exhausted and emotionally unavailable if she had three kids to care for and help overcome the grief of losing their dad. So yeah, poor Jodie didn't make the cut. (That's not to say she won't pop in at the end of the story... 😏)

Everything else that's changing about the story are minor details I wanted to flesh out a little more, or sharpening up the writing. I felt a little to flowery and/or long-winded at times, so I wanted to trim off some of the fat, so to speak, and focus more on the meat of the story. Plus the original story was my pandemic distraction: I wrote chapters without much thought and posted them willy-nilly. I want to be a little more intentional with my writing this time. Oh, and the kids' ages are a smidge different. I aged David and Alex up by two years, and Matthew by a year. I always felt I wrote the kids too old to suit the ages I'd given them, so it shouldn't feel too awfully different from the original.

Welp, without further ado, here's another little sneak peak for you under the cut 'cos this post is far too long:

The first day of school always brought about some nerves, what with Rose having gotten used to having her boys home every day for two months, but this time it was almost unbearable. Rose bit her nails down to the quick as she watched the clock relentlessly.

David had seemed fine when she dropped him off at Arcadia Academy that morning, but he always seemed “fine” nowadays. While he wasn’t as sullen and withdrawn as he’d been in the winter and spring months, he was far from the bright, bubbly child she’d known for the first nine years of his life.

Not even the art commissions she really ought to work on could distract her from the panic that David was miserable and wasn’t making any new friends and hated that he left all of his old friends behind at his old school.

She had called his teacher, Miss Clara Oswald, a few days before the term began to explain their situation. Clara had been genuinely sympathetic and supportive, and had given Rose the contact information of the school counselor, Mr. Danny Pink, who was supposedly one of the best in the region.

“You can set up appointments for David for the after school hour, if you’d like. I’d suggest you do that sooner rather than later to get yourself on the schedule. Or I can work with Danny to find a time when David could go during class time.”

“After school sounds preferable,” Rose admitted. “I don’t think returning to class after a therapy session would be… Well, therapy can be hard, is all.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

And so Rose had done exactly that: she’d gotten David an appointment with Mr. Pink for every other Wednesday beginning in the middle of September. Hopefully those sessions would help him more than the ones he’d had with his previous school counselor, who’d suggested David just distract himself with things he liked to do, and who’d scolded Rose for not doing more to bring David out of his shell.

Rose also hoped her youngest was faring well in his new nursery class. Matthew had been in tears, clinging to her legs and screaming for her not to go when she’d dropped him off. Bless them, the nursery staff waited patiently for him to calm down, and even let Rose stick around for a few extra minutes to show Matthew around his classroom. His teachers, too, knew that Matthew was getting over the death of his father; while he’d adapted much better than his brother, Matthew was much clingier and quicker to meltdown than he’d been in the past. The boys' pediatrician assured Rose this was normal behavior, and all she had to do was love him through this transitory period of his life.

[daysiwrld]

3 :: color me blue

this chapter is loosely inspired by the song norman fucking rockwell by lana del rey. it’s on my playlist! check it out, it’s linked in my tiktok bio!

check out author’s note at the end!<3

tw: sexual content!

—

"y/n? hey...you look like...hell. have you been crying?" sasha immediately notices you on the couch sulking. sasha's hair is a bird's nest and you can see the dried drool her cheek making you let out a small laugh as you look up at her.

"yeah, i feel like hell right now." you wipe your under eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie. sasha takes the hair tie from around her wrist and ties her hair up as she walks over to you on the couch. "what's wrong? what happened? did something happen with jean last night? or was it eren?" sasha asks as she rubs her face trying to fully wake up.

"nah, had nothing to do with them. it's really nothing, i'm just being...over-emotional," you tell sasha trying to assure her as much as possible. but it doesn't work, sasha's your best friend, she can read right through you.

"y/n, i know i'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but c'mon, this can't be "nothing" if you look this distraught. you can tell me, i'm your best friend. what's up?" sasha states, her tone laced with concerned. you sigh and lean back into the couch, you hate when you lie to sasha, but you hate it even more when she sees right through them.

"sasha i'm rea-"

"y/n, you look like death reincarnated." you hear a concerned, raspy voice. you and sash both look up to see connie standing above you on the stair's balcony.

"what's wrong? did jean do something to you? you guys looked fine last night...do i need to beat him up? i think i stand a chance right now since he's asleep-" connie frantically walks down the stairs.

"y/n won't tell me what's wrong, come help me force it out of her." sasha commands connie as he sits next to you, sandwiching you between the duo.

"i'm serious, nothing's wrong with me, i'm okay. i'm just being too emotional right now, i promise i'm alright." you tell the two of them trying to calm their concern.

"y/n. i've known you since i was what? five? i'm not an idiot like sasha, i can tell you're lying."

"huh?" sasha lets out.

"you heard me." connie says to the brunette. sasha huffs.

"you a bigger idiot than me, just saying." she rolls her eyes dramatically.

you couldn't help but laugh. it's crazy to you how they can make you feel better without trying, just by being themselves. connie and sasha stop their bickering and turn to you, their faces softening. they're glad to see you laughing and not being all gloomy.

"look, we're not going to let up about this, i'm not gonna take this bullshit, "nothing's wrong with me, i'm okay" excuse," connie tells you mimicking a girly voice as he recites your own words to you.

"why don't we go get breakfast and talk it over, you need a change of environment, this one's too depressing right now." sasha proposes. you hesitate but nod your head. you know they won't leave you alone about it, so you might as well go and explain everything to them.

"yeah—let's take my car." you say getting up from your spot on the couch. connie and sasha nod and the two of them go and grab their wallets.

shit, mine is in eren and i's room...

"hey sasha, do you think you could drive? i have a massive headache from crying and am too tired to walk upstairs to grab my wallet," you tell sasha as you see her walk back out to the living room.

"yeah for sure, i got you." sasha states rubbing you upper back a little. you feel a little bad for lying, but it isn't completely false. you do have a headache and you are tired, but it isn't the reason you don't want to go upstairs.

"y'all ready to go?" connie asks walking down the stairs. you and sasha both nod your heads and the three of you file out of the house.

"where are we going?" you ask them as you get in the backseat of your car. "hm, looks like waffle house. it's closer than any other diner." sasha replies looking at her phone as she buckles her seat belt.

"that bitch better be nasty on the inside and the cook better look like he has three felonies." connie states, reclining his seat a little. "wait, why?" sasha asks as she starts backing out of the driveway and onto the road. "that's how you know the food's gonna be good as fuck." you reply to sasha putting on your seatbelt as well. "oh...i didn't know that." sasha voices as she drives to the near waffle house. after arriving, the three of you promptly make it inside and sit down at a booth. a waitress makes her way over to you.

"hey, y'all ready to order? i also wanna let y'all know wait's gonna be about fifteen minutes, it's rush hour and we got quite of few orders to do before yours." the waitress expresses in a bored tone. the three of you nod and she takes your orders.

"well, a fifteen-minute wait here actually means a thirty-minute wait," connie states quietly once the waitress leaves. "also means the food's going to hit." he chuckles as he crosses his arms on the table. "yeah, the appearance of the place makes it seem so." sasha responds looking around.

"it also gives you time to explain what's going on." connie looks at you, a serious expression settling on his face.

"yeah..it does, huh." you sigh. "basically...this morning, eren and i talked. he started asking me all sorts questions, some of them about jean. like...he went as far as to ask me if jean and i fucked, which was weird as hell. and when i questioned him about it, he told me he wanted to warn me about jean...he explained that he has commitment issues and only likes the chase. in essence, once i give it up he'll leave me—according to what eren at least. he said we'd both be better off not being romantically involved." you pause to choose your next words carefully. you know they're probably already mad at eren, but you don't want to make him look like a complete asshole. although he is, you don't want to jeopardize their friendships with him.

"he also told me that if jean were to date me and break my heart, then that would cause the whole friend group to fall apart. and he doesn't want that. he proceeded to say that he also just doesn't want me with jean since he, you know, doesn't like me." you finish, looking back and forth between the duo.

sasha and connie's jaws are dropped, they can't believe what you just told them.

they're this shocked even though i sugarcoated it...wonder how'd they react to the full version lol.

"yeah...so that's why i was crying," you state looking down at the plastic menu in front of you.

"why would he...think so lowly of jean?...jean would never just hook up with you, he's liked you far too long to do some shit like that, especially at the beach, he respects you too much for all that. he just...wouldn't." sasha exclaims absolutely baffled. unknowingly to her, the comment makes you feel a lot better. it's exactly what jean said the previous night, that he couldn't do that with you at a beach.

"we need to confront eren about this and tell jean." connie says looking at sasha who's nodding her head, their faces showing dead serious expressions.

"that's absolutely not going to happen." you immediately shut them down. you know that would cause chaos to break out in the house.

"yes y/n, we have to. he can't just fucking say shit like that to you. he also shit-talked jean, you two are my best friends i'm not letting it slide. eren's also my best friend, but hell nah, he's wrong for saying all that." connie exclaims, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. sasha nods her head agreeing. you sigh and rub your eyes.

"i know that, but look, we're on a week-long trip right now...i can't afford for fights to break out, it'll ruin the trip for everyone. i don't want that." you explain with mixed emotions. you so badly would love to see the two of them go off on eren and put him in his place, but you know the consequences are just not worth it.

sasha and connie both stay quiet as they think it over in their heads. as much as they want to confront eren, they know your right and reluctantly agree with you.

"okay, we won't say shit to him, but i'm not going to be buddy-buddy with him for a while." sasha states looking elsewhere. connie nods his head in agreement and you let out a sigh of relief.

your phone starts going off in the pocket of your hoodie, startling you. as you take it out, you see that it's a facetime from jean. you furrow your eyebrows at your screen, what could he need right now that he has to facetime you?

"jean's facetiming me right now..." you look up to sasha and connie who both give you a confused look. "it's pretty early, what could he need right now that he's video calling you?" connie questions. "i don't know, guess we're about to find out..." you answer the call and it connects to reveal a worried jean.

"hey, where did you go? what are you doing? are you okay right now?" jean frantically questions. "um, yeah. i'm at waffle house with sasha and connie right now, why?" you question in a confused tone.

"i woke up and walked out the room at the same time as eren, so i asked if you were still asleep and he said you "thankfully weren't," and it rubbed me the wrong way. i started looking for you downstairs and i couldn't find you anywhere. i checked outside and saw your car was gone so i got worried something happened and you decided to leave or something." jean explains now relieved.

before you could say anything connie grabs the phone from out of your hand. "yo jean, come to this waffle house right now, it's the first one that pops up on maps, eren said some fuck shit to y/n, and we need to talk about it." your eyes widen at connie's words.

after hearing connie's words you know jean won't let it slide and will most likely confront eren about it immediately. sasha peers over connie's shoulder and notices jean's face contort into an expression of anger. quickly, she snatches the phone from connie.

"jean, don't say shit to eren. you're just gonna make it worse for y/n, and create an even bigger problem. come to waffle house so we can talk about what we're going to do, i'll order you something to eat, okay?" sasha tells jean trying to alleviate his rising anger. jean stays quiet for a few moments contemplating sasha's words before nodding his head.

"i'll be there in a few minutes." he quickly hangs up the call. you sigh loudly. you're thankful that sasha managed to get jean to not act irrationally, but you know it's going to be hard to get him to not do anything later.

you look up and notice that sasha's calling over the waitress and connie notices your nervous expression. "you good? you look like you've just seen a ghost." connie states studying your features. sasha finishes telling the waitress jean's order and turns to you as well. "why do you look...nervous?" sasha asks.

"i'm nervous to tell jean what happened and in all honesty...i didn't want to tell him," you explain quietly. sasha and connie look at each other with confused expressions before looking back to you. "about telling jean?...y/n, he's your best friend. you tell him everything, why are you nervous now?" connie questions. sasha nods her head waiting for you to answer.

you pull at the sleeves of your hoodie and look elsewhere. "jean and i...are...dating. but in secret. we confessed to each other last night at the beach, we decided to be exclusive, but not publicly due to beef with eren." you tell them turning to look at them again. connie and sasha's faces become pale as they glance at each other again before turning back to you.

"es que...soy pendejo, i fucked up when i told jean cause now-"

"he feels like it's his duty to defend y/n and confront eren..." sasha finishes for connie.

you nod your head and cover your face with your hands, resting your elbows on the table.

"well...he would find out eventually anyway, it'd also be bad for you to start keeping secrets from him not even twenty-four hours after becoming official. secret or not." sasha states trying to make you less anxious. you nod your head as you drop your hands from your face, crossing your arms on the table.

"you're right, just...don't tell him i told you, we didn't talk about when we were going to tell you, he probably wants to be the one to tell you two." you tell the duo, earning nods from them. the three of you hear the door open and you turn to see jean walking in, still in his pjs, and pieces of hair sticking up. in any other situation, you would giggle at his appearance. "woah, bro did you speed here?" connie questions jean at his sudden arrival.

"yeah, so what did eren say?" jean quickly cuts to the chase. you reiterate your sugar-coated version of what eren told you in the early morning to jean. after you finish, jean stares blankly at the table which starts to worry you, connie, and sasha. if anything you expected him to be vocalizing his anger. a minute of silence passes before jean speaks up.

"i feel like killing him." jean states calmly.

"join the club..." connie mutters.

you shake your head, "no jean, it's fine, really." you tell him. "it's not fine y/n, it's fucked up. how do you expect me to sit here and do nothing about it?" jean turns to you with a clearly irritated look.

"i know, but we can't do anything about it unless we want to make things worse and on top of that, ruin the trip for everyone else." you explain quietly to jean, putting your hand on thigh, trying to calm down his anger towards eren. jean looks down from you, shaking his head.

"i just don't want you experiencing shit like that, you don't deserve it." he mutters quietly. you give his thigh a small squeeze before pulling your hand away. you look up at connie and sasha hoping they could say something that could help cheer up jean, but they shake their heads, being at a loss of words themselves.

silence falls upon the four of you. a few minutes pass and the waitress brings you your food and you all begin eating in silence. the tension between all of you is unbearably suffocating. you peer over to jean and notice him just picking at his food taking an occasional bite. under the table, you reach over again, and put your hand on his thigh, gaining his attention. you give him a small tight-lipped smile, non-verbally telling him it's going to be okay. he returns a smile himself and nods his head softly before turning towards connie and sasha.

"y/n and i are dating," he announces boldly, taking a bite of his food like it's nothing.

your jaw drops along with connie and sasha's. "r-really? um, when?" sasha stutters out.

"last night," jean states cooly. you're thankful for jean's sudden announcement because it's the only reason connie and sasha were able to make it seem like they just found out. you turn back towards jean, furrowing your eyebrows. jean glances at you and shrugs, giving you a smile. the tension among you vanishes and jean's intention becomes clear to you, he just wanted to calm the situation down.

"okay, so what are we going to do about eren?" connie questions, taking a bite of his food. everyone stays quiet for a few moments before you speak up. "well, honestly...nothing. for now at least. it's only monday, if we act now, we'd ruin the trip." you reiterate from earlier. you look at each of their faces and notice their looks of contemplation. although they know you're right, they can't help, but want to blow up on eren and put him in his place.

"okay, yeah, we won't do anything, but i'm not talking to him until further notice." sasha states firmly taking a big bite of her waffles. jean nods his head glancing at you. "also, y/n can't stay in that room with eren any longer, she has to switch with someone." jean says looking at sasha and connie. "yeah, but it'd have to be with one of you three. we can't ask anyone else because then we would have to tell them what eren did." you explain.

"well what about hitch?" connie questions. "eren chose to share a room with me instead of hitch, so it's safe to say that if we did that eren would blow up horribly." you reply, picking at your food with a fork. "plus, i really don't want anyone finding out that i'm not sharing the room with eren, if it's one of you, it'd stay hush-hush, you know?" you tell the trio causing them to agree.

"well, it can't be me because, i'm dating niccolo, and i don't think he'd be okay with it. but, maybe niccolo can switch with y/n..?" sasha suggests, looking at you for an answer.

"nah, niccolo would probably say yes, but he doesn't know eren like that. i don't want to put him in an uncomfortable circumstance, you feel me? plus, you and niccolo have the downstairs room, everyone will notice if he starts going upstairs and y/n downstairs to sleep." connie replies shaking his head.

"so it's either connie or...me." jean sighs. you and sasha nod your heads slowly, knowing that it's a tough choice. connie is like your brother and is probably equally as angry as jean about the whole thing. jean on the other hand, is your best friend and now, your boyfriend. he loathes eren, and sharing a room with him probably sounds like hell to him.

"i'll do it." jean states softly. you along with sasha and connie snap your head towards him.

"no." the three of you firmly say simultaneously. jean looks up with wide eyes at the three of you, "why not?" he questions. "you'd immediately start fighting eren. plus, considering the type of guy eren is, he'd probably try to talk shit to make you mad. there's no way a fight wouldn't happen." sasha explains, making you and connie nod your heads.

"it's better if i switch with y/n. eren wouldn't dare to say shit about her to me, he knows she's family, and that i don't play around when it comes to her. i probably have better chances at controlling my anger around him compared to you." connie points at jean.

after agreeing to the room switch, the four of you finish eating and get ready to go back to the house.

"yo connie, you drive y/n's car back to the house with sasha, she's coming with me." jean grabs your car keys from your hand throwing them at connie. "yeah sure, but why?" connie asks, catching the keys.

"we're gonna take a small detour, and drive around a bit, eren's up right now, and honestly, i don't want to see him right now, and i doubt y/n does either." jean turns to you for an answer. you shake your head, "yeah, i'd rather not see him right now." you state.

after saying your goodbyes, you and jean go to his car and leave.

"how are you feeling?" you look over jean. his face is emotionless as he drives aimlessly. you hear him sigh, "i don't know honestly, i just don't understand why eren's like this. it's just so childish and stupid." jean explains. you nod your head understandingly, you stay quiet not knowing how to answer him. there's a few minutes of silence.

"there is one thing i'm happy about."

you look over at jean with your eyebrows furrowed, seeing a bright smile on his face. "what?" you ask. he glances over swiftly, "you're going to be sleeping with me the rest of the trip." jean smirks, looking back at the road.

you narrow your eyes at him, "what do you mean by that kirstein?"

jean looks over again, scanning your figure before looking back at the road. "nothing really, just means we're going to finish what was started at the beach last night." he calmly replies. you feel the heat rush up to your face and pool down in between your legs.

dear god.

"bruh, shut up." you cover your face turning away from him. you hear him chuckle at your reaction. "oh cmon, why are you hiding your face, let me see that expression." jean teases, putting his hand on your thigh. you feel your body heat rise even more. "jean shut up, you know what you're doing." you let out, voice a little shaky. "i'm not doing anything." jean replies innocently, rubbing his hand against your thigh and giving it a light squeeze. "yes you are." you breathe out softly. jean chuckles lightly at your tremulous state, he really can't wait to have you later. he gives your thigh one last squeeze before pulling away. "i like seeing you like that." he smiles, you can't see it, but you hear it in his voice. "yeah, yeah, whatever." you reply, uncovering your face and looking out ahead of you.

i didn't ask you to stop though...

"let's head home, it looks like it's going to rain pretty badly soon." jean states looking towards the grey sky. you nod your head, "yeah, everyone must be wondering where we're at by now," you tell him as you check the time. it's almost 9:15, you imagine everyone to be awake by now. jean nods his head, and the rest of the ride back is spent in comfortable silence.

once you arrive, you notice that everyone's awake. yeah, that's what i thought. "hey, where were you? sasha and connie said that y'all went out to eat together, but why did you and jean arrive later than them?" historia asks you from her seat on the couch.

"we took a detour, and drove around a bit before coming back." jean answers, walking over to sit on the couch. "is that really all you two did? i bet y'all probably fuck-" ymir's mouth is covered by historia's hand. "i'll break up with you if you finish that sentence." she deadpans causing you and jean to laugh. she removes her hand.

"yeah, hope y'all had a nice drive." ymir smiles sheepishly.

"good morning y/n! you're back, where were you? sasha told us you, her, connie, and jean went out to eat, but the four of you didn't come back together." armin asks you as he makes his way down the stairs, mikasa trailing behind him. you smile, "hey armin, yeah, jean and i just drove around a bit before coming back." you reply to him. "hi y/n, i missed you." mikasa states as she hugs you, resting her head on your shoulder. "hi mikasa, i missed you too." you giggle at mikasa's actions. "please hang out with me today, whatever we do today, just hang out with me at some point." mikasa mutters as she continues to hug you. you nod your head, "for sure."

"actually, jean, what's the plan for today?" armin turns to jean who's on the couch. jean looks up from his phone, "i'm checking the weather app right now and it looks like we're going to be staying in. app says it's going to thunderstorm all day, and it floods in this area so." he replies to armin. "yeah and it looked like it was about to start pouring while we were driving back." you tell armin, breaking free from mikasa's strong grip. he nods his head and turns to fully face you. "i wanted to ask, are you okay? did anything happen between you and eren last night? or this morning?" he quietly questions, mikasa nods her head as well. "yeah, how was your first night rooming with eren?" mikasa questions you.

you feel bad lying to the two of them, but if you tell them what eren said, they'd immediately confront him about it. "it was fine, a bit awkward, but we just didn't talk to each other, to be honest." you tell them, shrugging your shoulders. mikasa and armin share a glance before looking back at you.

they don't believe you, they've only known you for a relatively short time, but they could tell you're lying. only because your eyes are still a bit puffy and glossy. "okay good, glad to know it went well, but let us know if he tries some shit, okay?" mikasa tells you firmly. you nod your head, giving them the best smile you could muster, and quickly excusing yourself from them. you truly feel bad that you can't be honest with them.

you walk over to where jean is sitting on the couch and sit down next to him. "hi jean." you smile at him, using a cheery tone. "hi y/n" jean smiles back, matching your tone. "i'm bored." you tell jean peeking around the room. to your left, you have ymir and historia who are absolutely immersed in conversation; to your right you catch niccolo and sasha laughing about something on sasha's phone.

everyone else seemed to be in the kitchen or dining room, probably eating breakfast. "are you okay?" you turn your attention back to jean who seems concerned. "yeah, i'm good." you reply shortly, giving him a tight-lipped smile. jean squints his eyes at you, "yeah, right. for real, what's up?" jean asks, scooting closer to you. he lifts his arm and puts it behind you, lightly scratching your back. "it's just everything, it's eating at my brain." you reply quietly, making sure no one else can hear.

"are you sure? seems like something else is bothering you." jean states looking at you directly in the eyes. "why do you say that?" you question furrowing your eyebrows. "i don't know, my intuition is telling me there's something else." he replies. wow, that's kinda freaky.

you shake your head. "i swear it's just this eren situation." you assure as best as you can. jean stares at you for a few moments longer before nodding his head and accepting your answer. he still can't help but feel like there's something else bothering you.

"do you want to go-"

"yo jean, what are we doing today man?" connie bursts into the living room, interrupting jean. you and jean snap your heads towards him. jean goes to answer, but sasha beats him to it. "nah, the weather's gonna be pretty bad all day, so we're staying in." she replies, showing him the weather app on her phone. "okay cool, i'll let everyone else know in the kitchen and dining room, they were wondering." he states, leaving to the kitchen.

"like i was saying, do you want to go start packing your stuff? i'll send a text to connie and tell him to start doing the same as soon as he can." jean looks at you. nodding your head, the two of you get up from your spots and head up to your room. "wait—what if eren's upstairs?" you stop in the middle of the stairs. "he's not, saw him walk outside with a bowl of cereal when you were talking to mikasa and armin." jean replies, putting his hand on your lower back to guide you up the stairs.

- eren's pov

eren hears the backdoor open. he turns his head to see mikasa and armin with serious expressions on their faces. he turns his head back and eats a spoonful of cereal, looking towards the bleak sky.

mikasa and armin walk in front of him, blocking his view, and forcing him to look at them.

"what did you do or say to y/n?" mikasa calmly asks, cutting straight to the point. eren eats some more cereal, shaking his head, "i didn't do shit to her." he responds coldly.

"okay, what did you say? cause there's no fucking way you didn't say something." armin states, giving eren a cold glare. eren rolls his eyes, putting his bowl of cereal down on the table. "do you guys think that lowly of me? you're just assuming that i said something mean to her." eren scoffs, looking elsewhere. "nah, we know you did." mikasa states.

eren looks at mikasa with the iciest look. "fuck off, i did not." eren spits out. he leans back into his chair and closes his eyes, mikasa and armin's presence are starting to piss him off.

"this is hell." armin lets out as he rubs his face harshly. "tell me about it." eren sarcastically mutters.

"y/n's eyes are still puffy and slightly glossed over. she obviously cried earlier due to something, and you're the only person who would want to make her cry." armin states causing eren's heart to drop a little.

i fucked up, i fucked up, i fucked up, i fucked up.

"eren, i'm literally fucking tired of you and your shit. i don't want to play this cat and mouse game with you, i know you said something to her so just tell us." armin demands in a firm tone.

eren can tell that he's pushing armin's buttons. although armin isn't a physical fighter, he knows that the dude can easily wound with his words.

"she looks distraught, and it's not just her that you've affected. jean, connie, and sasha seem extremely concerned about her. and knowing y/n, i bet she didn't even tell them what you said so they don't get mad at you. she's probably saving your ass even though she shouldn't be." mikasa raises her voice, becoming impatient with him. eren's scowl is long gone, his face now pale and eyes slightly wide.

"did she really cry?" eren asks softly, looking up at armin and mikasa. the blonde rolls his eyes. "did you even listen to us? yeah she did dipshit, now tell us what you said." armin exclaims, clearly irritated.

eren sighs deeply, closing his eyes. he knows they're not going to let up about this. "i fucked up." he whispers, loud enough for the duo in front of him to hear. eren rubs his eyes with his hands, letting them drop to his lap after.

"basically...i told her she shouldn't date jean. i told her that he gets bored of girls quickly, and will leave her once he doesn't find her exciting. i explained that she'd be better off without him." eren takes a deep breath. "but, i also told her that i don't think she's worth jean's time, that she's not on his level, and that...she's basically the worst for him. i said other things, but i know that the most severe of it all." eren states, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

eren looks up to armin and mikasa and sees the most straight, but angry expressions he's ever seen them produce.

"you need to apologize now." mikasa calmly states, looking directly into eren's eyes. "i don't care what you think of y/n, as long as she's my friend, she's not going anywhere." mikasa continues, narrowing her eyes at the brunette.

"mikasa and i aren't going to talk to you until you apologize to y/n, we don't care how you feel. you need to fucking get over yourself, you're a...man-child." armin utters coldly.

"y/n hasn't done a thing to you, treating her with basic decency doesn't cost you anything. why can't you just do it? it pisses me off how hell-bent you are on getting her out of our friend group when no one wants that. you're the only one. i just—i don't understand. why do you hate her so much?" armin questions eren. he's asked eren a thousand times before, and eren has always brushed him off, but it's gotten too far at this point, he needs to know.

"eren, please tell us. why do you want y/n out so bad?' mikasa presses, scanning eren's face as she waits for an answer.

"i...i don't want another floch situation..." eren admits. mikasa sighs loudly, a singular chuckle following. armin scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"what a fucking dumbass." armin laughs dryly. "you can't possibly be comparing y/n to...floch..." mikasa states quietly, shocked at eren's reasoning.

"if y/n is anything like floch, i promise you, connie, jean, or sasha would've noticed that she's a bad person by now. they've known her for years," armin tells eren, looking at him stupid.

"looks can be deceiving." eren responds softly. armin sighs.

"you're right eren, looks can be deceiving. but i'd like to reiterate to you that jean, connie, and sasha have known y/n for years. connie has known her since she moved here from her country. he's grown up with her, lived with her, and now lives with her again. i highly doubt y/n has been deceiving him all these years. if anything he would know more than anyone if she's a bad person or not. he wouldn't speak of her so highly or introduce her to us if he thought she was in any way." armin explains to eren.

eren shakes his head and lets out a sigh. "you just wouldn't understand, you don't know what it was like when the floch stuff happened so of course, you wouldn't understand why i act like this now." eren states looking down at the ground.

mikasa shakes her head at eren's stubbornness, "look, i'm not going to continue this conversation since you're refusing to understand. you know what you need to do, don't talk to me or armin until you do what you were told." mikasa says lastly, armin nodding in agreement. the two of them depart, leaving eren alone, on the patio.

eren looks to towards the table. "my cereal's soggy now."

he rubs his face and leans back into the patio chair. eren hates the fact that he feels bad for you. he should be happy that you're hurting, but he isn't. he knows he dislikes you so why does he...feel bad?

this is confusing me...

eren gets up and grabs his bowl of cereal. he makes his way to the kitchen putting the bowl in the sink. he begins to look for you, but you're not in the kitchen, dining room, or living room; so he assumes you're in the bedroom. he starts making his way upstairs, as he walks closer to the room he hears talking, followed by your laughter.

he pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath before opening the door and walking in.

- y/n's pov

"connie is across the hall packing." jean tells you as you pack your clothes into your suitcase. you nod your head. you packed everything of yours from the bathroom and the dresser. now, you're packing the clothing you hung in the closet.

"so y/n, how did you and eren even begin talking this morning? like, did he wake you up or something?" jean asks locking his phone and putting it on a small table beside him. you freeze for a second. you're tempted to lie to him and just say eren waited until you woke up, but lying to him a day after making your relationship official would make you feel bad, just like sasha stated earlier. you put down the shirt you're holding and turn to face jean.

"actually, i didn't...really sleep here last night. after you went to bed, i came in here and just grabbed my stuff real quick to go sleep on the downstairs couch. i woke up before sunrise to come put my stuff back in the room so no one could find out i was asleep, i thought eren would be asleep so i didn't worry about him, but i was wrong. he confronted me then basically." you confess. you look at jean to see the most boring expression you've ever seen him make.

"why did you choose to sleep on that uncomfortable ass couch instead of this bed?" jean questions you. you sigh. "look, one: eren was extremely pissed at me yesterday, we got back late yesterday, and he was already asleep when i came in here. i was afraid of waking him trying to get into bed. he would've lost it and started a fight right then and there. and two: i don't like eren, that's true, but honestly, if someone woke me up trying to get into bed, i would be pissed too, especially if it's midnight. i did it out of human decency." you explain to jean. he nods his head understandingly, his mouth making an o shape.

"eren would go ballistic, to be honest, he needs his beauty sleep so he's not grumpy the next day i guess." jean states. "not that it helps."

you laugh at his comment, causing to jean laugh along. the door suddenly opens, revealing eren. he walks in and notices jean first. he nods his head towards him, nonverbally greeting him. jean returns the motion, his face void of any emotion. an uncomfortable silence engulfs the three of you.

"so, um—can i speak to y/n?" eren asks, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. you nod your head and wait for him to continue. he turns to jean and back to you. "do you think it could...be just you and i?" eren asks you. jean turns to you and you hesitate for a moment before nodding your head slowly. jean gets up from the chair, grabbing his phone. "i'll be across the hall with connie." he tells you before exiting, closing the door behind him.

"so what do you need?" your eyes are glued to the ground by his feet. something about looking at him in the eyes makes you uneasy. eren notices how you refuse to make eye contact, he feels his chest become heavy. he didn't think his words were going to have this much of an effect on you. he looks beside you and notices the open suitcase on the floor. his eyebrows furrow. "what...are you doing?" he points at the suitcase on the floor. he notices another bag on the bed.

"i'm switching rooms," you reply shortly, still not looking at him. his face contorts a little. "why?" he questions, a little shocked. your expression changes into one of confusion. you look up at him giving him the "are you fucking stupid" look. "why do you think?" you question coldly, turning back towards the bed to continue packing.

"because of this morning? look-" eren starts, but is interrupted by you. "honestly, please don't say anything, especially if it's anything like what you said this morning. let me just finish this packing so i can leave. promise you i'll try my best to not be visible to you after this." you tell eren, trying to get him to leave immediately. eren sighs.

"i'm trying to apologize for this morning." he replies softly. you turn to face him, your eyebrows deeply furrowed.

eren's apologizing?..

"look, i'm sorry for the way i treated you this morning. from now on, i'll leave you alone and not treat you poorly." eren states. you narrow your eyes at him. you can tell it's not sincere. you nod your head slowly.

"as long as you don't talk or look at me we're good, i won't talk or look at you either." eren continues, "do we have a deal?" he asks, looking at you dead in the eyes. you think about it for a few moments. "i don't accept your apology, but i agree to your proposal." you reply simply, returning to your packing.

eren's taken back by your response, "you don't accept my apology?" eren questions. you shake your head. "nope."

eren is baffled by how unbothered you're acting. "if you're done here, can you please leave, i'm almost done packing, connie will be your roommate from now on." you put some shirts into your suitcase. eren shakes his head slightly, a perplexed expression written all over his face. "why though?" eren presses, ignoring your previous statement. you sigh.

"eren, i don't have to accept your apology if i don't want to, and it doesn't even seem completely sincere. don't apologize for something you don't truly feel bad about. honestly, i'd rather you insult me than give me a half-assed apology." you state putting the last of your clothing into the suitcase. eren sighs.

"i don't know why i let mikasa and armin make me put up with this shit..." eren mutters, rubbing his face with both of his hands. your head jerks slightly at his words.

"you're apologizing cause mikasa and armin told you to..." you reiterate. you close your suitcase and start zipping it up. "yeah, why?" eren questions, his tone laced with irritation. "more reason for me to not accept your apology." you scoff, laughing a little.

"look eren, just—just leave me alone, okay? let's just act like we don't exist to each other. problem solved. i'm leaving now." you state, grabbing your luggage, and beginning to leave. "wait-" eren starts.

"i don't exist to youuu," you say in a sing-song tone, closing the door behind you.

eren is left standing there, baffled.

-

"hey," you greet as you walk into your new, shared with jean, room. both connie and jean's heads shoot towards the door where you're standing. you walk in with your luggage, shutting the door quickly. jean is sitting on the bed while connie stands in front of him. you put your bag next to your suitcase and make your way over to jean, plopping down next to him on the bed. you let out an exaggerated sigh, connie and jean share a glance.

"so how did it go with eren?" connie speaks up. you look up at him and roll your eyes as your mind replays the conversation you just had with eren. "he basically tried to apologize." you sum up eren's intention. "it was a really half-assed one and i didn't accept it."

connie scoffs with hollow laughter following, "eren? apologizing?" connie's eyebrows raise slightly in disbelief. you nod your head. "i swear," you tell him. connie shakes his head. "never thought i'd hear someone tell me eren jaeger...apologized to them. dude's way too prideful for that shit."

you shrug your shoulders, "well, it's not like he did it because he felt bad, he told me he did it because mikasa and armin made him do it." you explain to connie. jean and connie nod their heads at your explanation, "now that makes much more sense." jean chuckles causing you to let out a nose exhale. "yeah, but he also proposed an idea to me." you begin, leaning back and using your hands to support your upper body.

"we'll just act like we don't exist to each other. that way, we don't fight anymore and create issues." you tell jean and connie. "did you agree to it?" jean looks to his side where you're at.

"duh, it's the best idea his dumbass has probably ever come up with." you laugh causing the duo to laugh as well. "that's true." connie states still laughing.

the laughter amongst you calms and connie begins to grab his bag and suitcase. "i'm gonna go drop my stuff off real quick, i'll be back." connie leaves, closing the door behind him.

"well, that convo between you and eren went better than expected huh?" jean speaks up. you retract your arms, sitting upright again. "yeah, to be honest. it really could've been worse." you state nodding your head. "i'm thankful it wasn't." you whisper loud enough for jean to hear, he nods his head in agreement. the door opens again and connie walks back in.

"looks like eren's downstairs now. he isn't in the room anymore." connie tells you and jean. "y'all wanna go downstairs with me, or are y'all gonna stay here?" connie questions looking back and forth between you and jean. you look at jean and wait for his response. he shrugs, "it's up to you, i go where you go, but personally i do kinda wanna stay up here. "we got back late last night, i didn't get much sleep, and i woke up early today. this eren stuff has tired me out too." jean yawns stretching his arms in front if him. you nod your head in agreement.

"yeah, i wanna stay up here too, i'm tired from...well, everything. i still have a bit of a headache too, being down there with everybody will probably only make it worse, and i'm just not up for all that human interaction right now." you chuckle. connie nods his head understandingly, he knows you must be really stressed right now. jean too, just not as much.

"that's fine, it's a rainy day anyways, perfect for staying in bed all day. if anyone asks i'll just tell them y'all got very little sleep last night and decided to stay in your room." connie states, walking to the door to leave. "yeah, that's fine, just make sure to not tell anyone we switched rooms, also tell eren to not say shit either, especially to mikasa or armin." you remind connie. he nods his head, giving you a thumbs up before leaving.

"i didn't know you struggled to sleep last night." you turn to jean once connie's gone. jean nods his head, "i felt ecstatic last night, i just couldn't sleep." jean smiles. you turn your head away to hide your smile from him. "shut up."

jean lets out a laugh at your reaction. "apart from that, i also showered before i headed to bed. so i guess that caused my sleep struggle as well," jean shrugs. you nod, now facing forward.

"i think i'm gonna take a shower now that you mentioned that." you state getting up and walking to your suitcase. jean sucks his teeth loudly. "nah, just come lay down with me, you can shower later." jean exclaims as he watches you pull out a towel and some clothes.

"i can lay with you after, i'm not going to be too long, i washed my hair last night, i'm just washing my body." you respond, locking the bedroom door before turning to him. "also—only if you have an extra, can i borrow one of your shirts?" you ask. jean rolls his eyes at your dismissal of the conversation. "yeah, i got you, but why? did you not bring any?" jean furrows his eyebrows slightly, walking over and grabbing one from the closet.

"i did, but yours are bigger and smell nice, so i want one." you snatch the shirt from his grip, turning around quickly, and walking into the bathroom. jean smiles at your response and lets out a laugh as you shut the door, locking it.

after your shower, you change into jean's tee, and some cotton shorts. you look at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom and laugh quietly at how big his shirt looks on you. it's a plain black t-shirt that looks like a dress, reaching down to about mid-thigh on you.

i can't be surprised...dude's like a skyscraper.

you walk back into the room to find jean asleep on the bed, his mouth slightly agape, and his chest rising and falling slowly. he's knocked out cold.

you put your dirty clothes away and grab a pair of crew socks from your suitcase, putting them on. you then grab the deodorant from your bag and apply it along with some lotion on your arms and legs. you quietly put everything away after you're done, making your way over to the bed. carefully, you climb onto it trying not to wake him.

sitting on your calves you watch as jean sleeps. "jean, wake up." you whisper, rubbing his chest softly with your left hand. it takes a little bit, but jean stirs, opening up his eyes. you smile at his sluggish state. "you knocked out quick, i was in the shower for only fifteen minutes." you laugh quietly as you continue to rub his chest. "mhm.." jean lets out, finding comfort in how you're rubbing his chest.

"c'mere." he stretches his left arm out, signaling for you to lay down. you abide and lay on your side with your head on his chest, putting your hand on his stomach. his long arm wraps around you, hand resting on your hip. he lifts his right arm up, putting it behind his head, resting on it. using his thumb, his left hand begins to rub circles on your hip. you continue to rub your hand on his stomach.

the two of you lay in silence, absolutely content in each other's presence. "what are you thinking about?" jean speaks up in a drowsy tone. he adjusts himself, pushing you closer to his body. "I'm not really thinking about anything, i'm just…happy right now." you respond, focused on tracing random things on his stomach.

"did you just write my name with a heart on my stomach?" jean asks. "it's a possibility..." you respond quietly making him laugh. you giggle as well, going back to just rubbing.

silence engulfs the two of you again, a comfortable one, but as the minutes pass, tension begins to rise between the two of you. as you rub jean's stomach, you slowly move your hand downward, letting it rub on his lower abdomen. jean's heart rate begins to pick up in his chest and his breathing becomes more labored. jean believes that you don't know what you're doing to him, but you do. subconsciously, he begins to squeeze the fat of your hip, which lets you know he wants you to go further. but you want to tease him. just a little.

payback.

you move your hand a little lower, brushing over the waistband of his sweats. you hear him suck in a short and strained breath through his nose, gripping your hip harshly. you swallow hard as you begin to notice the growing bulge in his sweats.

up until now, you were being bold, teasing him a little, but seeing the dick print in his pants made your stomach turn with nervousness, but also excitement. you've slept with guys before, but this is your first time taking the lead and initiating. your heart is pounding against your chest as you continue to rub jean's lower abdomen, occasionally, sliding your fingers under the waistband.

"don't—don't tease me like that," jean breathes out in a low voice. he feels pathetic as he speaks, but he can't help it, you're driving him insane with your touch. "what are you talking about? i'm not doing anything." you respond innocently. you push two of your fingers under the waistband of his sweats and begin to slide them to the left and right. jean's hand moves further down grabbing a fistful of your ass, kneading it roughly. "don't play dumb, you know what you're doing." he lets out shakily. you smile to yourself and lift your fingers a little, pulling them out, and letting the waistband slap jean's skin.

he lets out a tiny gasp at the impact. quickly, you move your hand down and begin massaging him through his sweats, causing him to whimper and jerk his hips up.

"fuck—please, y/n..." jean whines, causing heat to rush down in between your thighs. "what jean? what do you want?" you question, lifting yourself up to look at him. his face is flush, mouth agape, and shaky pants leave his mouth. you never thought you'd ever see jean like this.

"you know what i want." jean tells you, making direct eye contact with you. "no—no, i don't." you reply, glancing at his lips. jean removes his hand from behind his head and grabs your face, inching it closer to his. your hand is stilled on his bulge, but you can feel jean jerking his dick into your hand, finding as much relief as he can. his lips are a few centimeters away from yours and you can feel his breath fan across your face due to his panting, he's desperate for you. i love seeing him this way.

"what do you...want me to do?" you ask, voice wavering a little. you've never been this forward or dominant, it's nerve-wracking. jean removes his hand from your face and puts it on top of yours, guiding you in jerking him off through his sweats. he drops his head onto your shoulder and lets out a small moan. your breath hitches at the sound causing you to rub your thighs together, attempting to create friction and relieve all the built-up arousal. jean notices this and without warning, he moves you so you're straddling his waist. he sits up and leans back against the wall, both of his hands on your hips.

sitting directly on top of his hard dick, you can feel him pulsate against you causing you to squirm a little.

"t-that feels good." jean hisses at the movement, slightly rocking your hips against his, pleasuring both of you. a moan leaves your lips as you finally getting the relief you've been wanting. putting your hands on his chest you begin to grind yourself against him, letting out another moan in the process.

"jean—ah," you moan out, jean groans in response. his hand massages the meat of your thighs as he watches you get off on top of him. the view is breathtaking.

��yeah…keep, just like that—against my dick…” jean whispers, semi-coherent.

he brings one of his hands to the back of your neck, pushing it towards him, catching your lips with his. it's a short kiss, but after he pulls away he quickly goes in for another, over and over again. he bucks his hips into yours causing you to moan into his mouth. jean takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in. dragging his hand from the back of your neck to the front, he chokes you slightly. you feel your panties slick up even more at the action.

letting out another moan, you grind yourself harder. jean pulls away from you letting out a moan himself, bucking his hips up against you involuntarily.

"jean, please, i want–i want more," you tell him, voice ragged. understanding what you mean, he swiftly maneuvers your bodies so you're lying beneath him. jean leans down, taking your lips with his once again, moving slowly against them. he uses his left forearm to hold himself up, allowing the other one to roam your torso as he kisses you. he begins to shift his body down, releasing your lips and attaching his to your neck. he leaves small, open-mouth kisses all over your neck, before continuing down your body.

he kisses your chest through the t-shirt you wear. stopping, he looks up at you, making eye contact.

"can i take this off?" he softly asks, permitting his hand to slip under it a little. you contemplate for a moment at his request, a nervous expression plastered on your face. although you've been with other guys and you know jean would never make fun of your body, the thought of being that…bare in front of someone scared the living fuck out of you.

"i—i prefer not to if that's okay with you," you reply, your voice small. jean nods, giving you smile, assuring you it's fine. he continues down, kissing your body until he finally makes it to where you want him most. he sits up on his knees in front of you, bringing both of his hands to the sides of your waist, hooking the waistband of your shorts with his fingers.

"can i?" he asks looking at you. you nod your head vigorously and he doesn't waste a moment, dragging both your shorts and panties down. you lift your legs allowing him to remove them completely before he throws them somewhere on the floor. your knees immediately come together at the loss of clothing, feeling a bit insecure.

"don't go getting shy on me now." jean smiles grabbing your knees with both of his hands.

"shut up." you let out softly, feeling embarrassed. you bring your arm up to your face, using your forearm to cover your embarrassed expression. jean begins to separate your legs in a painfully slow manner that fuels your humiliation, his hands sliding from your knees to your inner thighs.

jean takes a few moments to scan your body. he takes mental pictures. never wanting to forget this. he moves his hands to the back of your knees, getting a better grip before dipping back down. you feel him begin to leave kisses on your inner thighs, nipping at the skin with his teeth. you let out quiet gasps and whimpers at the feeling of his lips against your sensitive skin. he takes his sweet time, loving every noise he pulls out of you.

"jean—please..." you breathe out. you remove your arm from your face and use your elbows to prop yourself up to look down at him. jean gives your inner thigh one last kiss before shifting himself up to be closer to your face, you meet him halfway by sitting up a little. although, you found it a bit difficult with jean holding your legs apart, your knees against your chest. he kisses you with fervor, making it hard for you to keep with him.

as he kisses you, jean lets one of his hands move down your inner thigh, putting his thumb on your clit and circling it slowly. you whimper into his mouth, squirming due to his touch. jean takes this as a sign to pick up the pace.

he pulls away from you to look at your face as it contorts from the pleasure he's causing you. "you like that?" he breathes out as he watches your jaw drop slightly and your eyes squeeze shut. jean isn't doing much, but due to the built-up tension you had, the slightest touch has you falling apart. you moan in response, causing him to chuckle.

"do me a favor." he whispers, his face coming closer until his nose is brushing against yours. "hm?" you reply, still lost in his touch. "give me…some of your spit," he states.

before you could process his words, let alone ask why, he kisses you in a rough and sloppy manner. you kiss back immediately, abiding to his request. he pulls away from you and a long string of spit connects both of your lips. he breaks it by lowering himself between your thighs.

you feel him leave a very wet kiss on your clit before spitting on it, causing you to let out a loud gasp. jean proceeds to lick the arousal that accumulated at your entrance all the way up to your clit, harshly sucking on it.

"jean, oh—" you moan as jean begins his attack on your clit with his tongue. loud moans fall from your mouth, but you quickly cover it with your hand, afraid that someone could hear. your free hand makes its way down, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

noticing your sudden quietness, jean pulls away for a moment to look up at you. he moves his arm up removing your hand from your mouth. "nah, don't cover your mouth, i wanna hear all the pretty noises you make."

without breaking eye contact, jean returns to pleasuring you, making a moan escape your mouth.

your hand grips his hair, tugging at the root and causing him to let out a groan against your clit. the vibration sends a shiver up your body. a really pleasurable one. pressure begins to build in your lower stomach, the muscles tightening up. you know you're so close. if you weren’t high on pleasure, you would be so embarrassed at how quickly you’re getting to your orgasm.

you don't know if it’s your feelings for jean heightening your sensitivity, but you've also never gotten off from head only. your past partners always had to use their fingers as well to get you to cum, but jean is managing with his mouth only. it’s shocking.

"jean...i'm—i'm so close..." you shakily moan out, gripping his hair tighter, jean lets out a deep groan against you. the hair-pulling, your voice, and your moans are driving him crazy. and his dick is painfully hard from it.

without warning, jean plunges his pointer and middle finger into your opening causing electricity to course through your entire body. your back arches as you let out loud moans.

“p-lease…” you let out.

the moment your sounds enter jean's ears, it travels through his body and straight to his dick. he feels it twitch in his boxers. the hold on his hair becomes even tighter, and jean feels you push his head against yourself even more. you start to grind yourself against his mouth, moving jean’s head in an up and down motion as well. the moans spill out your mouth with no hesitation. you could care less who could hear at this point. you're on a high you've never experienced before, all coherent thoughts are vacant in your brain.

the only thing you can think about is jean. and how good he's making you feel as he lets you fuck his face.

"jean, oh my—god you’re…you're doing so good," you say brokenly, in-between moans.

jean's brain is in chaos, he's never been in any submissive position with a girl. he’s always believed himself to be someone who's only dominant, but you—you’re changing that. the way you're fucking yourself against his tongue, praising him, using him, it's making jean experience a new type of pleasure.

he's always been in charge in sexual situations, he's always been the one to praise, but being on the other end for once, makes him realize that he wants it to be like this more from now on.

wanting to hear you praise him more, jean speeds up his fingers, curving them, and thrusting them as deep as he can, until his fingers can't go further.

loud moans and incoherent words leave your mouth as you feel the pressure in your lower stomach begin to loosen up. your body becomes shaky as pleasure surges through you, your back arching even more.

a few moments pass and your body stills. you're not moving your hips or jean's head as you cum, but jean doesn't stop his tongue or his fingers. he continues to lick at your clit and thrust his fingers, wanting you to have the most out of your orgasm, and you do. you really do.

your body begins to twitch as you start to come down from high. jean notices this and slows his tongue and fingers as you start to settle down, eventually, coming to a stop. you let out small moans, shaky breaths, and occasional hiccups as your body experiences the after-shocks from your orgasm.

jean slowly pulls out his fingers, watching as your liquids leave your entrance and glisten on his fingers and knuckles.

"you did...so, good for me," you breathe out, shutting your eyes. fatigue is beginning to settle within you.

jean smiles at your words. he licks your juices off his fingers before shifting up again, so his face is right in front of yours. sensing him in front of you, you open your eyes to look at him. his eyes are staring directly into yours, his pupils blown out, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

you notice your fingers are still tangled in his hair, but instead of retracting your hand, you begin to massage his scalp.

"i might have gotten a little carried away…sorry if i pulled too hard." you softly say, your breathing now leveled. your body still trembles, with the occasional shiver running up your spine.

"don't worry about it, i...i liked it." jean replies, his tone laced with slight embarrassment. you giggle at his awkwardness. "okay, i'll keep that in mind for next time."

jean smiles and leans down to kiss you, it's not heated or rushed, instead, it's soft and careful. you melt into the kiss. you untangle your fingers from his hair and slide your hand down to cup his cheek. jean's free hand rubs the side of your torso, it isn't erratic or rough, but in a soothing manner. jean can still feel your body tremble, a post-orgasm consequence, and this is his attempt to calm you down.

he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his head against your forehead. "you should rest." he states calmly, his hand still massaging your side. your eyebrows furrow slightly.

"but...but what about you? it's your turn." you respond looking directly into his eyes. jean lifts his head a bit, shaking it slightly. "no, you're tired and need rest, don't worry about me." he assures you. jean can tell you're moments away from falling asleep, he's not selfish enough to keep you awake for his own pleasure.

"jean, i can feel your ‘hard as fuck’ dick against my thigh." you deadpan.

"i can't just leave you like this."

jean shakes his head removing himself from in-between your legs and from the bed. he walks over to the bathroom and grabs the pack of baby wipes he has, along with a single pair of underwear from your suitcase.

"y/n, i'm fine. you did enough for me, trust me. just cause i didn't bust a nut, doesn't mean i didn't experience any pleasure." jean laughs as he wipes your inner thighs down.

"plus, i'm going to be sharing this room with you for the rest of the week, i can fuck you stupid at any given moment later. as long as you allow me to." jean states after he successfully helps you with putting on your underwear.

you smile at his words, nodding your head. as much as you want to make him feel good, you really are exhausted from everything that has happened since last night.

jean leaves to the bathroom for a few minutes and comes out shirtless, with new pajama bottoms. crawling into bed, jean grabs you, pulling you close to his body. you don't talk at all, the two of you are way too tired to. within minutes, the two of you fall asleep in each other's arms.

—

AHHH. corny ass ending bruh LOL.

anyways heyy, i just finished editing, and i just want to say. i’m ver proud of myself. i uploaded my last chapter on june 6th and now i’m updating this one on the 5th. i didn’t procrastinate this time!!! i did a monthly update. i’m going to try to post another one before the end of the month tho, because i want to post at least two chapters before school starts again. i also want to post the first chapter of my jean x latina!reader before school starts.

i’m going to be working on that next, the outline i mean, and hopefully, i can have it posted by the end of the month as well.

i wasn’t planning to start my jean fit until way later, but people really want it…more than this eren fic LMFAO.

anyways, sorry for any typos, grammar, punctuation errors! i do revise my chapters, but i always revise them at 2am when my brain is running on zero. so there’s bound to be a mistake i missed.

thank you for the reads, please vote, reblog, like, leave kudos, etc! i appreciate it. <3

what is your favorite part about this chapter?

- daysi ♡

[jawllines]

There was very little Y/N could take from Anne’s brief testimony. At this point from the judgment of character alone Y/N had long since abandoned the idea that he could have killed his wife. The part of her that is immersed in the world of stories, dark literature, and mystery, tells her that she’s naive to trust him so wholly. That certitude like this would personify, walk with her hand-in-hand off the ship on a wooden plank, and there she’d find her naivety with a sword to her throat, telling her to jump. 

Y/N could be intuitive when she wanted to be. When she truly opened up her heart to a situation and saw it for what it was, and despite quite a few attempts of trying to make the accusation of murder make sense, she simply couldn’t. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear it straight from his mouth though. Just because she had made up her mind about the idea of him killing her, didn’t mean she knew the details that led to that judgment from the town. Who heard when about what and why; there was no way to know other than the two ideas she’d come up with: 

1. Break into the police department and look through classified records. 

2. Ask Harry. 

She thinks she’d try her luck fighting off a policeman first. 

or

Y/N’s questions are answered and Harry’s been through a lot, hasn’t he?

(TW: mentions of murder, suicide, abuse, alcohol/drug use)

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

For four years, Harry had been stuck in a meadow.

Not a beautiful one that flourished beneath a vivid blue sky, with colors aplenty and life in abundance. It was cold; clouds hung low and heavy with icy rains that pierced his skin with every drop. The world was grey, the flowers were dead, the life was dormant, and Harry was alone. Stagnant in old memories that he wished to forget, haunted by new ones as the days passed and grew shorter, the night came quick and stayed long, his insides hollowed and his skin froze. Each passing day felt empty, bunnies with chubby paws and gurgling, giggly faces brought small beads of happiness but bunnies had to sleep, and he has to work.

Numb -- he felt numb and bitter, starving for warmth in four years of winter. Even his tears had frozen, the hot sting no longer brought comfort but more pain. And he lay there among the dried yellowed grass, wondering when it might get better. He lay there the first year wondering if his marriage was a mistake, and the second year he questioned if it would’ve been better if they had not met. The third-year he ponders if he were ever meant to be loved-- he wonders if it was supposed to feel this rotten. Had love stories no truth to them? Had all the authors been lying? Within the bad, there was always some good, but Harry hadn’t felt much good for three years by then. The fourth-year he wondered if it was his fault, all of it, just as the wind whispered in his ear. Maybe had he done something different then nothing would have happened. Maybe if he had been different then everything would be fine. Maybe then the bunnies wouldn’t have eyes that didn’t match his own.

It had started with a speckle of sunlight. The kind that appears at the end of a sluggish storm that came in the afternoon, filled the streets and soaked the soil of ditches with rain. Clouds withdrew, revealing the sun had begun sinking past the horizon, only thirty minutes or so until night inked the sky, but even for those few minutes there’s comfort. Reddish hues cut through the gloom, half the sky is dense clouds that ease to another town and the other half are cooed promises of a stormless day come morning. That’s how it started. . .just a little bit of sun with a giggle that drowned out the thunder.

The next day, the rain stopped. He blinked up at the clouded sky questioning why it had stopped pelting his skin like glacial stones -- it had been so long of this he panicked for one moment, maybe two (maybe three), but he tried to make do with it. His hollow stomach growled for the first time in ages, the scent of almond jam tarts slithers through his nose and makes his mouth water. The sun peeks out through the clouds to giggle again, teasing him with a few minutes of warmth -- the bunnies came to bask in it too, from beneath the burrow he’d made for them. One he lay on top of to keep them from the rain. They nudged at his back, demanding to come out, and so he rolled over and let them and they enjoyed the heat as well.

Each passing day the sun shows itself more and more, first timidly -- meek and mild, a little unsure. It smiled at Harry though he rarely smiled back. . .his cheeks were frozen how could he? But slowly he thawed; he could move his head again, look side to side, visualize the grass was now lush, healthy green, and wildflowers in an assortment of colors had begun to bloom. When the sun first came, he’d been so guarded. . .so worried. . .so angry that he couldn’t welcome the feeling of it kissing his skin. As each day passed the sun grew warmer and brighter, and as each day passed, the grass grew greener and the flowers more lively, and as each day passed, Harry’s smile grew bigger.

Harry liked laying in this field much better, bathed in golden rays.

And Harry liked waking up with Y/N beside him.

She was a rather heavy sleeper, or so Harry found which confused him greatly. The few times he’d woken her with his nightmares, somewhere behind all the murky fog of him trying to gain his footing back in reality, he would wonder how she woke so easily. Was he really that loud or did she rise at the sound of a pin colliding with linoleum? It had been the second night she’d coaxed him back to sleep that he realized it had been the former as it was easy to quietly slide out from the cocoon of her arms and the blankets that she’d made to bring him comfort. Y/N slept like a log -- he’s sure she could sleep through a marching band storming up and down the halls of the hotel -- but she always woke for him. Woke for him and coddled him.

Harry hated needing it, but he loves it while it’s happening. In ways it felt like a guilty pleasure; something that he indulged in though he probably didn’t need to, akin to an extra scoop of ice cream on his waffle cone, or staying up an hour later to finish binging a show. As he came down from the horror that his subconscious had fed him, to melt in Y/N’s arms was very pleasant. She felt like sun but she smelled like spring rain, and she held him like she knew how much he needed it. Like she knew how good it felt for him to be in someone’s arms. . .how happy he was to not wake up alone.

He preferred this though -- to wake with Y/N beside him, no memory of a night terror tormenting his brain as he blinks his eyes open. Y/N was not curled as close to him as she had been when they’d fallen asleep and while this made him pout for a moment, he is glad to watch her from this angle. She was close enough to him that he felt her warmth diffuse from her body beneath the sheets, but far enough that he could make out all of her features without having to move his head. All he does is press the corner of the pillow from his face with his fingers so his view isn’t obstructed at all.

This wasn’t a creepy thing -- he knew if she woke it might look like a creepy thing, him just watching her, but Harry was simply looking. He enjoyed the calm that her face contained; soothed and undisturbed. He could tell from one look at her face when her mind was racing, whether it be the faint furrow in her brow or the way she starts playing with her lips with her fingertips or nipping at her nails absentmindedly. That spacey glow in her gaze when she stares out the windshield of the car lost in a daydream that Harry wished to join her in. What does she think about when she spaces out like that? Harry would love to know but he found himself too shy to ask most days.

Too shy? It was novel, the idea of him being shy. Had anyone in his life known that he got absurdly shy and flustered when it came to this girl, they’d find it laughable. He wasn’t like this normally. . .even after everything that had happened, he was able to put on a brave face and fake the character that he’d always presented himself as. To make people more comfortable, to force the pity out of their stares when he walked into a room, to make himself feel normal when he had every reason not to.

But when he was with Y/N, he felt all jumbled and rearranged, his thoughts knocked together like the beads inside Charlie’s little rattles. It made little sense to him but his feelings never made much sense to him, even the ones he thought he’d understood. As a young boy, he’s always felt his emotions so intensely, like they could encompass his being sometimes, both the good ones and the bad ones. Rarely did they ever make him act out, but his mind was constantly going, it felt, and his mum always told him he was governed by his heart. And when he grew and chose to be more analytical, he’d thought he’d pressed that all aside. At the point that Y/N had entered his life, he’d made the assumption he’d grown out of it.

He’d been wrong.

That was okay though, wasn’t it? It was alright to feel things but they were so big. That’s the only way he knew how to describe them -- incredibly big, ardent, impassioned. Did she feel these just as he was? When she saw him, did her heart race unreasonably fast? Did she feel bashful beneath his gaze? Was she happier when they were together? Why couldn’t Harry just ask?

Why couldn’t Harry just ask?

The ache in his knuckles reminds him of what he’d done the night prior, mixed in his emotions regarding it. His reaction to Emmett had been boorish, and how he took the guitar even more so. After the little anecdotes, Y/N had shared with him about the kind of man Emmett was, it filled him with such hatred. Such hatred and spite for a man that he had not once met, but had raised memories from Harry’s own brain that he could not leave ignored. He hated him. . .he hated him for what he’d done to Y/N -- hated him for the broken look in her eyes at the thought of him, at what life he’d taken from her.

And he hated him for his own personal reasons. . .selfish reasons.

How could there be so many of the same type of person in the world?

Y/N wriggles in her spot, her brow pinches as her arms emerge from the covers and reach toward the headboard, a soft groan stirs from her chest. Harry held his breath for a moment -- should he look away? If she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, would she be unsettled? Would they be okay like she said they would? He hoped so. . .he really, really hoped so.

Her eyelids flutter first, before she blinks, squinting against the sharp morning sun that filled the room. Only a moment passes before she turns to him, a small, sleepy smile pulls at her cheeks. Eyes puffy from sleep, Harry struggles not to coo aloud -- she’s terribly cute.

“G’morning.” Her voice sends sparkles through his body; glittering, dazzling, iridescent bubbles.

“Good morning,” he cleared his throat after his gravelly response, and watches as Y/N pushes herself up from the mattress, but her bottom lip pouts, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She nodded, “Mhm,” it’s gentle how it leaves her mouth, it makes him want to protect her from the world, “You made me all sticky last night.”

Harry’s brows raised -- he hadn’t thought she’d mention it. If anything, Harry half expected them both to pretend it hadn’t happened. It probably shouldn’t have but at the moment, Harry had not considered what it might mean afterward. All he’d known was in that moment, he needed to touch her, and taste her, and feel her in every way imaginable.

It would hurt, Harry thinks, if they had to pretend that things hadn’t changed. Harry’s body, his mind, his heart sang too loudly for him to drown the sound of it out and play pretend. He had felt her against him in every way imaginable the night prior and still it hadn’t felt like enough. It had been a part of the reason he’d tried his best to hold out for as long as he could. If that were to be his only time with her, he wanted to make it count, but even then. . .even with how much they did and how long they did it for -- he just wanted to be even closer.

And he almost can’t stand it. Almost can’t stand how much he wants her.

“I cleaned you up, Sweetheart. Did I not do a good job?”

Y/N tilted her body toward him, and very suddenly did she plop across his torso, words muffled from where her face was pushed into the covers, “You did alright I guess, but I need a shower.” He smiled, laying his hand flat across her back, rubbing circles over the cotton fabric of his shirt she wore and he felt her melt; her muscles ease and her bones jellied, “Don’ wanna get up yet.”

“Don’t have to,” he murmured, “Can sleep as long as you like.”

Y/N’s response is a low hum that vibrates from her chest to his belly. The familiarity in her actions brings relief to the tension he’d been stacking in large blocks throughout his body. He had filled with such dread that they might revert back to their old, sheepish tendencies in how they regarded one another. Part of the reason he’d watched her wake, he’d admit, was because he’d been so happy that she was still there and he had to make sure for the first few minutes that it wasn’t a lovely dream. That Y/N was right beside him resting, not sat in her room in deep contemplation about how to go about reorienting their situation to how it had been.

Of course, if Y/N told him that she was uncomfortable and that things were weird, he would respect whatever decision she’d make in response to it.

He is, however, more than delighted that that wasn’t the case.

Still, he voices his concern slightly, in case he was reading her actions wrong. He doesn’t stop rubbing on her back as he begins speaking, and she startles some as he’d just woken her back up, “We are okay, yes? We’re still good how we were?”

Y/N re-earths her face from the blankets, lying on her cheek so she could face him. Her face looked so soft -- Harry’s tempted to reach his fingers out to stroke against her cheek, but he stops himself, “Are you worried?” He does not waste a moment before giving a solemn nod, swallowing thickly when her fingers find the bare skin of his chest, stroking there gently, “Why?”

His brows furrow, trying to deviate his attention from her careful caresses, “I. . .we did a lot last night,” he murmured, “I’m worried that you might regret it a little.”

“I’m glad you said it, ‘cos I was g’na say I was worried you regretted it but I’d been too embarrassed to ask,” she moves her hand to cradle his cheek, and Harry’s face warms as he lets his eyes flutter closed, leaning against her soft palm, “I don’t regret a thing,” her words were sincere, “We’re silly.”

Harry nodded, a small smile painted his face as he allowed himself to get sucked into the moment. Free of his memories, free of his worries, free of anything. . .anything at all that doesn’t have to do with being in this bed. It feels good. Harry doesn’t think he’s felt this good in a long time.

Harry doesn’t think he’s felt this good ever.

“We’re silly.” He repeats.

                                                             .                       .                       .

Feeling things could be a lot sometimes.

Emotions could be cumbersome.

At least that’s how they had felt before, especially with Emmett. Y/N always felt like her emotions were trudging through sludge, grappling for the edge of a riverbank but being dragged back into the murky water. They were conflicting and confusing; they didn’t feel good at all. And they dwindled so thin that by the time she was packing her things in her car, the tears she cried were out of frustration that she was the one who had to pick up and move her life around, not because she was sad she lost him.

But these feelings for Harry have always felt so. . .light? That didn’t feel like the right word. Not light in the way that they weren’t intense for her, because they were earnest and enthusiastic -- but they didn’t feel heavy. It had felt like Emmett was always at her hips, yanking her down to the deep end of a pool she’d drown in. With Harry, he pulled her hands gently toward fields and hills of green, where they floated just above the soil, giggled and tumbled and skated their fingertips along the morning dew.

She felt calm with Harry. . .her feelings were big, and they were good.

For the rest of their time in the city, things had felt as if they changed but in the same breath, they hadn’t much at all. Harry is still as tender as he always is, and he still trips and fumbles over his words. As they had grown to know each other his stony exterior cracked progressively but it had felt that he’d dragged down a full wall for her. Maybe two even; she’d taken a chisel and sledgehammer to the mortar fixing the stone together and carefully broke it. A soft glowing center had been revealed but only sometimes, she found. Only sometimes would he hold onto her for a little longer than normal. Only sometimes would his gaze linger. Only sometimes would it look like he might kiss her, but he pulls his lips into his mouth instead.

Y/N doesn’t push him because she knew there were at least two more walls left fixed around him, and both of them are components of life before her. Whatever had happened, had left Harry a broken man, and no matter how desperately she wanted to know everything about it, she wouldn’t pry. She even tried to stop quietly theorizing about it all, though Anne does not make it very easy at all.

Last night they all went out for one last dinner together, and when Harry and his father excused themselves to go to the restroom it was only Y/N, Anne, and Charlie left at the table. Charlie had found his way into Harry’s lap at some point throughout the night, and Harry passed him off to Y/N’s lap when he’d left the table, but he pulled off one of his rings so that Charlie could keep playing with it. Y/N held the marching teddy ring between her thumb and forefinger as his chubby hands gripped around it and he marveled silently.

Anne smiled gently at her as she pierced a piece of steamed broccoli onto her fork, “I want to thank you, Y/N,” she had begun, before she twisted her body around to look at the direction of the bathrooms then turned back to face her, “I’ll be quick about it, the two of them never wee for long. I want to thank you because. . .well, I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but he seems less. . .less miserable than he has been these past few years. I know part of it could just be the healing properties of time, but something tells me you bring a lot of light into both his and Charlie’s life.” Slowly she shook her head, “He’s misunderstood, a lot of the time. He always has been, even when he was a child.  Just loves with his whole heart and some people take advantage of that. I don’t know the nature of your relationship but I just ask that you continue to treat him kindly, no matter if it is platonic or not. God knows he needs that after what she put him through,” she hovers the broccoli over her mouth, “Though I hate to speak ill of the --”

Y/N wanted more. She wanted to take Anne out for coffee after dinner, find themselves a secluded booth in the back, and ask her every question that she could possibly think about what she didn’t know. Deep in her marrow, she knew it would be wrong to find out from someone who wasn’t Harry, but it would be easier wouldn’t it? Y/N would know and Harry wouldn’t have to relive the traumatic events for her to know. It would be the easiest solution, she’d think.

But before Anne could even finish her sentence, Harry appeared. The worst of it was she couldn’t even be irritated with his sudden reappearance, because the smile he gave her was sweet enough to melt her heart as he placed his hand on her shoulder then squeezed past her to get back to his seat, “Through the windows, I saw a candy store. It’s the same chain that has those fudge-dipped Oreos you like. Would you like to stop there after dinner?”

There was very little Y/N could take from Anne’s brief testimony. At this point from the judgment of character alone, Y/N had long since abandoned the idea that he could have killed his wife. The part of her that is immersed in the world of stories, dark literature, and mystery, tells her that she’s naive to trust him so wholly. That certitude like this would personify, walk with her hand-in-hand off the ship on a wooden plank, and there she’d find her naivety with a sword to her throat, telling her to jump.

Y/N could be intuitive when she wanted to be. When she truly opened up her heart to a situation and saw it for what it was, and despite quite a few attempts of trying to make the accusation of murder make sense, she simply couldn’t. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear it straight from his mouth though. Just because she had made up her mind about the idea of him killing her, didn’t mean she knew the details that led to that judgment from the town. Who heard when about what and why; there was no way to know other than the two ideas she’d come up with:

1. Break into the police department and look through classified records.

2. Ask Harry.

She thinks she’d try her luck fighting off a policeman first.

How could she just ask? There was no way to, she was certain of it -- no appropriate way to, at least. Any way that she tried to phrase it in her head sounded too nosy, too forward, too abrasive. Not only had she come to the conclusion that she didn’t believe he could kill his wife, but she’d also come to the conclusion that it was simply impossible to string the right words together so she could question why everyone would think he did. What was their relationship like before? He’d said they’d gone on trips -- that she’d liked the sun, and her only solace moving somewhere as dreary as the vacation town they inhabited was the beach. And she knew that Anne didn’t like her, for some reason or another -- that she put Harry through a lot. But that’s it.

That’s it.

If she thought about it for too long, her head ached. And when her head ached, her brows knit and she’s staring off into space without thinking all too much about it. So she hadn’t realized that Harry had even appeared back beside her in her hotel room, until she felt the tenderest of caresses just along her jaw, something he typically only did at night. When she turned to face him, his fingertips met her face, smoothing out her brow with the pad of his thumb, “Your head is hurting,” he murmured knowingly, the icy mint scent of his gum flutters along her nose, “Do you want to rest? I could finish packing for you.”

“How did you know my head was hurting?” Harry continues to rub her brow until she’s relaxed the muscles in her forehead, and the tension begins to dissipate from her shoulders.

“I’m observant,” he murmured, letting his hand fall away from her face but he slips it down, letting it rest on the curve of her throat, “You slept very little last night. Could feel you tossing and turning.”

It was true; she’d fallen through the rabbit hole of her thoughts as she’d spent many nights doing, only now when she was doing it, chances are she was laying beside Harry. One of the things that had changed was their need to find an excuse to sleep in the same bed, which was a blessing. Now, how Harry asks, is by offering her a shirt to sleep in while he feeds Charlie his last bottle for the night, cradled in the crook of his arm. Y/N gives Charlie plenty of cuddles and kisses, they lay him down in his crib, and the both of them get ready for bed themselves.

All of it feels very domesticated, especially the bits where after they’ve washed their faces and brushed their teeth, they crawl into bed and Harry finds them a movie to watch that they inevitably speak through half of, then get invested in the last quarter. Y/N thinks Harry finds it easier to touch and cuddle at night; this is when things feel most different than what they had been. He indulges in soft caresses, gentle squeezing, pulling her flush to his body, and skimming his fingers all along her skin, giggling when she shivered like he found joy in rousing goosebumps in his wake. The way Harry holds her spoke for how touch starved he’d been, and Y/N melted beneath the attention. Especially since this was when he was most open and willing to give it.

The night prior, he’d fallen asleep after one movie and the half of a second one (typically he tries to wait for her to fall asleep first, but she had taken to combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and when she peeked up at him as his eyes began to flutter shut, he scrunched his nose at her, “Thank you, Darling”), and she’d stayed up. Her mind chattered at her, tweeted thoughts like a rose-ringed parakeet. What had Harry gone through? That would make him have horrible nightmares? That would make people think he was capable of murdering his wife? That his mum would thank her for bringing light into his life? The whole dark mess of it was so lost on her. It just made her want to hold him, kiss his rosy cheeks, protect him from the world and only share him with the sun and the moon.

After she had gotten up to have a wee, checked on Charlie, and crawled back in bed, she didn’t want to disturb him by weaseling her way beneath his arms again so she stayed on her side. So she tossed and she turned, wondering and searching for answers she couldn’t pull from thin air. Maybe she could just call his mum -- she’d given her, her number -- she could call her, ask her, sit on the phone for hours because she loved to talk (Y/N would guess that’s the outcome of a relatively silent husband) and she’d divulge every nitty-gritty secret Y/N knows she’s been nearly frothing at the mouth to tell.

But she couldn’t. . .she just couldn’t.

It was after she’d sighed to herself, quiet enough that there was no possible way she woke him up, but she felt a hand meet her side. His forearm slid along her hip, tucked around her body, and dragged her from her spot to meet him back in the middle. Y/N gave a questioning hum as she rolled around to look at him, but his eyes were closed, and he still appeared to be asleep. That is until his lips parted, a small, tiny smile at the corner of his mouth, “Sleep now. I’m giving you half of my sleepiness to help you.”

She rested her head on his chest, packaged all her inquiries in a tightly bound bundle, and tossed them outside for the night.

His notice reminded her of this, and her shoulder slumped as she tipped her forehead against his chest, “Aish, I forgot I woke you up last night. I’m the worst bed buddy.”

Harry rests his chin on her head, “Don’t say that,” he murmured, “You take away my nightmares and you smell like how I think the moon might, so you’re the best bed buddy.”

So gentle. Soft. How could he ever even hurt a fly?

Did he have something dark in him? Y/N wonders what it might have looked like to see him with Emmett, as she slid her arms around his waist and hugged him to her body. This rare display of daytime affection made whatever relationship they were developing feel real. More than just a drunken romp after emotions had run high; something tender and warm. Something that Y/N could get lost in.

“I reckon you take the title of best bed buddy. You gave me half of your sleepiness, remember?”

Harry hums, “Mhm,” he pulls back, letting his lips touch to her temple, “And I’ve just given you a quarter more. Lie down Sweet thing, I’ll pack the rest.”

Just as Y/N’s flipping back and forth between lying down for the nap or sucking it up and packing the rest of her things after taking paracetamol or two, there was the telling babble that told them both someone was awake. They unwind from each other, turning around to see that Charlie had woken up from where he’d been napping in his car seat. Y/N peeks around Harry, brows rising at the big, bright eyes that stare at them tiredly, “Well look at that! The absolute sleepyhead just woke up.” She made her way to Charlie, clicked the buckle that secured him to the seat, and fit her hands beneath his armpits, “C’mere, you little sloth. Say good afternoon, Daddy! I slept so long so that I could have an extra good time on the way back home, hm?”

Charlie lies his head down on her shoulder, holding out his chubby fingers toward Harry who made his way over easily. He took Charlie’s hand and kissed each of his fingers, before pretending to eat them, and smiling triumphantly when a bubble of giggles is the result. The scene makes her heart warm, but not nearly warm enough for her to not remember their check-out time was briskly approaching.

“Here,” she murmured, handing him over to Harry, “Cuddle, and I’ll finish packing, yeah? I’ll save my quarter of sleepiness for later.”

“Could I --” Harry began, just as she was about to move toward the bathroom. When she pauses and looks back toward him, he has that shy look on his face again. . .the one that appears just before he starts to fumble over his words a bit when he asks her something. Whether it be for a cuddle, or if she’d like to visit someplace with him, or if he wants his hair played with, “--could I kiss you?”

She tries not to smile too hard as she pushes up to kiss him.

And she presses an exaggerated kiss to Charlie’s cheek too.

                                                                   .                      .                        .

Being back at home is. . .different.

They got home around dusk; the sun sank low in the sky, disappeared behind the tree-line, and with it the end of their trip together. Coming home from a vacation always felt a bit off, after pretending another place was your home for a little while. Rooms were stiff, the air was stale and un-lived in, and it took about two hours of lighting candles, pushing open windows, turning on fans, and turning on every light and telly so that it wasn’t so quiet. Silent, and weird, and lonely without the people she’d been with.

Even though Y/N had technically had her own hotel room, by the end of their trip they had been spending every night together. She was with Harry, Charlie, and Marzipan which was much preferred than the stillness of a flat post-vacation. If she were honest, she struggled not to tear up as Harry was helping her take her suitcase from the trunk, and to hide her emotions in an effort not to appear clingy, she hugged him and hid her face in his throat. Harry curled his arms around her tightly. He knew though -- in the weird Harry way, he knew how she felt, even though she was making good on not letting it show on her face,  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Sweetheart,” he dipped his face into her hair, pushing a chaste kiss to her head, “I don’t start at the university again until next week, and I’ve only got a bit of work to do at home, so you’ll be bothered with me all day.”

Harry kissed her cheeks and sent her to her flat with Marzipan. She aired the place out, desperate to make it feel less uninhabited, and had even shoved her linens in the wash before she showered (which made for a very cold shower -- after so long of being gone, she’d forgotten that warm water for her sheets meant frigid water for her body). Marzipan reacquainted herself with her surroundings and though it all smelled of her, she even appeared to be discontent with the change.

Around 10 PM her phone buzzes on her bedside table, just as she had moved her linens into the dryer while simultaneously regretting washing them at all (she just wanted to lay down at that point). Brows pinched, she reaches for it and sees Harry’s contact on the screen -- had she forgotten something? Why would he be calling her?

“Hello?” She held the phone close to her ear, “Harry? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, everything is fine,” Harry responded, and he paused for a moment, just silent on the other end until he cleared his throat, “I -- well, I believe this was much less embarrassing in my head. I don’t mean to sound as if I’m fixed at your hip, but I missed your voice.” A dish clatters on the other end of the line, and he mutters a small ‘shit’ before continuing, “It’s -- um. . .it’s very quiet without you here. Not that I think you’re loud or anything I just. . .yeah. I just miss you.”

Y/N is incredibly fond; her heart swarms with warmth that stretches it three sizes too big for her chest, and she feels soppy and softened. Her lips curl in a tiny smile though he can’t see it, she wonders if he’ll be able to hear it in her voice through the receiver, “I miss you too,” she responded, brushing her hand against her cheek, “It just feels weird.”

“I’m not keen on it. Which is why I -- well, I wondered if you would like to stay on the phone with each other? Would just tell you to drive over now but it’s so late, I don’t want you on the roads.” He explained to her, “I had thought about just coming to get you myself, but then I’d have to strap Charlie back in his seat and for some reason, I feel he would not appreciate being woken up.”

Soft -- she would say it again, and again, and again. Harry made her feel so unbelievably soft, she’d reckon if someone tried to hug her right now she’d mold into the shape of their body. It’d been so long since someone had evoked such strong emotions from her and she just isn’t used to it anymore. All the heart racing, the stomach flutters, the sweaty palms, the goosebumps. . .everything.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she sat down on her bare mattress, tracing the diamond-shaped dips and curves of the upholstery, “If you’re falling asleep and I’m talking too much, you’ve got to tell me though. I’ve just put my bedding in the dryer so it’ll take me a minute before I’m actually lying down.”

Harry hummed, “I should’ve thrown mine in the wash, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

“No you shouldn’t have, ‘cos I’m miserable now,” she lamented, “Would give anything to just pop my head on the pillow and pass out.”

“Poor thing,” he murmured, “You don’t have extra bedding?”

She flopped down, tucking the phone between her ear and the uncovered pillow, “Harry, I’m lucky to even have the ones I do now. Hate spending money on bedding, it’s too much! Especially if it’s anything worth sleeping in.”

“I get what you mean,” the sound of running water cuts on, and she hears the sound of ceramic plates clinking together again, “Plus, it’s few and far between you find something aesthetically pleasing, innit? And then it’s got to match your room. White is the easiest to match but I reckon if you’re an on-the-bed-eater then that could be a bit problematic.”

“No kidding,” she agreed, “I guess for like -- I dunno, cum stains -- white works out though.”

”Christ,” she could picture it, Harry shaking his head in the way he does when Y/N says something he wasn’t expecting that may have been on the side of vulgar -- he did it several times when she would briskly and casually mention the fact that he’d morphed into something short of a male Aphrodite. He’s shy -- he’s always been shy, but he just manages to get shyer in the bits that he should be confident in. “I guess -- I guess, yeah for cum stains, that’d work out wouldn’t it?”

“Mhm,” she let her eyes close for a moment, “What’ve you got to do tomorrow? Tell me all about your engineering and I’ll try to keep up.”

He does.  Harry explained the project that they were currently working on and Y/N attempted to understand the large words and abbreviations he was using, but eventually she did have to tell him to bring it down to a freshman at college level so that she could at least kind of follow. It made sense that he was a professor, and a good one at that, because he knew so much but was able to break it into smaller bits and pieces so that she could digest it. When she had questions, he had full-fledged answers that swiped away the dark areas. By the end of it, she was halfway certain she could take a crack at computer engineering (like running their coffee orders and half understanding what they were discussing around meeting tables, but still a better understanding than she had in the first place).

Around 12 AM, Y/N’s made her bed up and sat star-fished staring at her fan blades whipping above her, listening to Harry’s syrupy voice tell her about his trip to Scotland he took with his parents when he was around 15. Explained to her that he met a man there who taught him how to play guitar in the two weeks they were there, and connected him to a woman who would further his learning in London. Harry had mused about how he had used to hope to be a musician of some kind, but he never thought he’d been good enough. Y/N told him that he’s silly because she thinks he’d be lovely.

“You’ll have to play for me,” she told him, rubbing the corner of her pillowcase between her thumb and forefinger, “On the telecaster. Y’know that’s yours now, don’t you?” Knuckling tiredly at her eyes, she suppresses a yawn so she could continue speaking, “Not to re-gift something from my ex or anything, but it’ll only collect dust in my closet.”

Harry, who had long since finished his nighttime routine (he’d politely excused himself to brush his teeth and wash his face), sounded like he was shuffling in his bed, “Wouldn’t you want to sell it? You could make a pretty penny off that, Sweetheart, especially the one you bought. It would feel wrong to have it wasted on me.”

“Wasted on you?” Y/N scoffed, “How could it be wasted on you? I don’t care about the money, I just want it to have a loving home. Now if you don’t want it because it’ll just be a hassle I’m sure I could pawn it off on someone, but nothing could ever be wasted on you. You’re the whole reason I even have it back!” Lulling her tongue over her mouth, she wiggles her toes at Marzipan who eyeballs her from the floor, where she had been sat for the past twenty minutes falling asleep, “Which -- could I ask you about that?”

He’s silent for a moment -- a pause long enough to make her regret asking, to disrupt how smooth the conversation had been going before her question -- but he does respond eventually, “You can ask me anything you want. Anything at all.”

“How did you get it back?” She swallows, “Like, I’d assume from your knuckles he hadn’t just handed it over.”

Harry, again, pauses for a moment but this time it seemed like he was only gathering his thoughts, “When you had gone to the bathroom, I went to the green room they had to get it back for you. I know you hadn’t asked but. . .well, it didn’t seem right for him to have it. Not after what he had put you through, you know?” Y/N hummed, encouraging him to continue, rolling out the muscles in her shoulders that had gone stiff in her idle sitting, “So I went in and I asked for it back, and he was. . .difficult about it. He offered to pay for it and then told me I was trying too hard and that you weren’t “worth it”. . .so I punched him and said a few choice words. I’m --” he sighed to himself, “I’m not a violent man, I just couldn’t -- I can’t stand when someone acts like that. . .like he deserved that guitar. I apologize for resorting to violence though. I shouldn’t have done it without speaking to you first, and now that I recount the details I feel a bit silly. Barbaric or summat -- like -- I’m sorry for talking in circles, I feel like I’m talking in circles. ” He does another deep sigh, Y/N can almost feel it against his cheek, like the content ones he lets out after they’re finally cuddled in bed but with a slightly annoyed lilt, a warm and gentle puff, “It frustrated me and I acted out, but I don’t regret it. It’s your guitar.”

Y/N dipped her face back into the pillows, tingles zip down through her body like sparks of electricity as he recounted the story and began to fumble around his feelings. He doesn’t realize how much she appreciates it though -- how refreshing it is to hear him speak. It always sounds so open and raw, like he’s saying the words as soon as they pop in his brain. Brisk pauses, talking in circles, expressing how something had made him feel and how he feels now because of his actions.

“Harry?” She shuts her eyes, pretending that he’s laying across from her.

His voice is small but clear, “Yes?”

“I think you’re amazing,” she began, “And I think, you don’t have to apologize for anything because if you would have first cleared it with me I would’ve suggested more barbaric antics, like kicking him in the chest and something with fire.” A breathless giggle comes from the other end, she smiles a dumb, big smile that makes her cheeks hurt, “Thank you for standing up for me. If anyone ever says something to you, I’ll kick their ass, how about that?”

Another chuckle leaves him, Y/N feels as if she’s swallowed it, feeling it warm her bell, she keeps her eyes closed and melts into the mattress while Marzipan jumps up and claims the space behind her back.

“Thank you, Sweetheart.”

                                                         .                             .                            .

It was rare that they went into town together.

Well, not so much rare as it was relatively nonexistent. The only time they’d been here with each other, they had made a beeline to a private beach where they couldn’t be disturbed. It was simply them, the fine grain sand in tiny hills and mountains and the gentle plodding of waves against the shoreline. They hadn’t even stopped for food or sweets, and Y/N couldn’t blame him -- if it were her in his situation, she would avoid the town at all costs.

So, it was safe to say she had been surprised when he suggested it.

They’d been back from their trip for four days, which they had spent re-acclimating to life at his house again. Y/N got back into the pattern of her regular nanny duties while Harry got back into his work, though he does take a few more breaks than he had been prior to their trip. These breaks last a bit longer than the old ones did as well, and are typically ended with a kiss to her temple and a raspberry blown into Charlie’s neck. If he takes a break while she’s sat in Charlie’s room during his naps, he scouts her out with a snack of some kind and will sit in there with her for a little while as they share it.

One night, Harry had asked if she would like to stay over and of course, she had agreed to it. Their day went as normal, Y/N put Charlie to bed while Harry finished up the course plan he’d been working on for several hours. After she showered and got ready for bed, she slunk down to the kitchen and brewed lavender vanilla tea, before pouring the both of them a cup and finding her way to his office. Despite the door being cracked open, she knocked first and waited until he called for her to enter before she did so.

“I made us tea!” She began as she entered, smiling gently when his eyes met hers, “It’ll help get you ready for bed too, since your brain has been so busy all day, reckon it should calm you down.”

Harry looks surprised -- the kind of shock that might light someone’s eyes if they weren’t expecting something. She thought he’d have heard her bumping around in the kitchen, but she wonders if he’d assumed she was only making some for herself. If he had even paid mind to the disturbance in the quiet at all. The apathetic look he’d been giving his computer prior to her arrival is replaced by one of gentle delight; his lips pluck up at the corners, “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured as she set the mug down on a coaster, “Thank you -- I appreciate this a lot.”

“Of course,” she smiled before fixing her handle on the mug, about to pivot on her heel to make her way out of his office but his fingers loop around her forearm suddenly, “Oh! --”

“Why are you leaving?” He inquired as Y/N steadied herself, and he plucked her wobbling mug from her hands to set it down on the desk.

She nodded toward his computer, “I figured you were still working,” she explained, then motioned to herself, “And I didn’t necessarily want to annoy you today.”

The skin between his brows crinkles as he shook his head, “You could never be a bother to me,” he responded, no teasing lilt in his voice that would have matched her own -- he seemed almost offended that she would even suggest such a thing, “Stay with me. We can drink it together.”

“Yeah?” Harry nodded earnestly, “Well, alright. I guess I’ve always kind of wanted to try sitting on that couch --” she turned again, her mind set on going toward it, but Harry’s grip only tightens around her wrist, stilling her. 

“Wait --” he began, but when their gazes locked, his cheeks pinkened quickly; she thought it was cute, how easy it was from him to blush, and she thinks if she reached out they would be warm to the touch, “ -- I. . .well, this feels silly now,” he shook his head at himself, and sighed heavily, “With you, I always act and speak before I think things through, it’s very -- it’s troublesome, for me. I get flustered too easily.” 

“That’s okay,” she told him, “Just means every word out of your mouth is authentic. Plus,” she succumbed to her desire, reached her fingers out, and touched the warmth of his cheeks, “I think it’s a bit cute.” As always, he leaned into her touch like he was starved for it -- just wanted her near. . .as close as possible, and then even closer than that. “What were you going to say?” 

Harry’s hands found the hem of her shirt and he ran the pad of his finger along the seam but he was never one to avoid looking into her eyes. No, instead he stared at her, pupils fixed on her face, “I wanted to know if you’d like to sit in my lap? Not in a filthy way!” He rushed to say, “I just wanted to hold you for a little while, if that would be okay?” 

“Of course!” She used her knee to push his chair out further, plopped down on his thighs, and wiggled until she could settle. Y/N would have been a little coyer about it had the situation been with any other person, she thinks, but Harry responded much better to this. He asks for things like she’ll judge him for them -- like he’s worried her reaction to his inquiries will be poor, that she will be disgruntled or angered by them. And Y/N’s goal was to make sure he knew there was not a doubt in her mind when she agreed to do something that he suggested. He had good ideas, she wanted him to know that. 

Albeit startled, he acclimated to her position on his lap easily. He slung his arm around her waist, and held her still and close, scooting them both nearer to the desk. He reached for her mug and placed it into her hands before picking up his own. After a sip, he hummed low and dipped his forehead against her shoulder, “You’re always so warm,” he murmured, “And soft.” Once he set his mug down, his fingers floated up toward her neck, stroking against the delicate chain of the necklace he’d gotten for her, “I’m glad you like this.” 

“How couldn’t I?” She responded, raising her hand to his knuckles, “It’s a very thoughtful gift. How did you know I liked rubies, hm?” 

“I didn’t,” he spoke into her shoulder, “Really, it was one hell of a guess. The jewel was just so beautiful it reminded me of you.” 

Y/N felt her face heat up, “Aish, here you go -- always buttering me up,” she turned some, craning her neck to look at him, “Flattery will get you nowhere, y’know? If you want me to do something for you, all you’ve gotta do is ask.” 

Harry nuzzles back and forth, his face brushing and crumbling the back of her shirt. She’s not sure if he’d been doing it to shake his head or if it was a sign of his affections, but either way, Y/N hummed and poked his thigh, pushing for a response. “I’m not buttering you,” he murmured, “You deserve to hear these things. They’re the truth after all.” 

“So there are no ulterior motives to all these sweet words?” Harry shook his head once more, “Then what’s poking my bum?” She had noticed it after she had shifted on his lap the first time in an attempt to get comfortable and had been toying with the idea of mentioning it. They hadn’t done anything sexual since New Years', just cuddles and caresses, but the opportunity really hadn’t arisen. And Harry, well, she couldn’t imagine him initiating anything, with how much he second-guesses himself.

His response had been to squeeze her tighter, and tuck his face deeper into her shoulder, and she hummed once more “Hm?” 

“Sorry,” his words muffled, his tone bashful, “I -- I get them sometimes, when. . .it doesn’t have to necessarily be because I’m turned on, y’know?” 

Y/N leaned back into him, “Ohhhhh,” she tutted her tongue, “Like an affection stiffy then, yeah? You big softie.” She slid her palms against his forearms to carefully unwind him from around her waist despite his protesting whines, as she sunk to the ground, the thud of her knees muted by the rug, “Get your kit off, I know a good remedy for affection stiffies.” 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to,” he murmured as she fit herself between his legs, her hands firm on his knees when she split them apart, “I could do you instead.” 

Her brows pinched and her mouth pouted as she looked up at him, “Hm? But I want to do you,” she told him, then tilted her cheek against his knee, keeping her gaze fixed on his, “Do you not like blowies?” 

Harry’s cheeks are such a rosy pink -- he’s so damn shy, she couldn’t stand it (in the best way). Such a domineering, strong-willed man all flustered and red-faced from just her speaking about having her mouth on him. It made her head spin in circles. 

“No, I -- I really like them, but --” he shuffled his hips, his hand found her head and he stroked her temple, and if not for how mesmerized by him she was, she might have let her eyes flutter shut, “-- I just don’t feel like I deserve one if I haven’t made you cum yet.” 

For fuck sake. 

Y/N slid her hands up his sweatpants and pulled at the drawstring of his sweatpants until the knots are undone. She tucked her fingers into the waistband and started to tug, before he finally raised his hips to help her get them down, “Technically we’re at an uneven orgasm ratio. You got me off four times, I’ve only gotten you off once.” Y/N found quickly that Harry hadn’t bothered with underwear at all, and she swallowed thickly as she looked at him. It felt like the first time all over again; the delight and the nerves, the way her mouth waters. The head is swollen, ruddy, and wet -- he was so big that she knew once she got her lips around him, only a quarter of the way down would feel like an absolute mouthful. She could already feel the ache in her jaw. 

“Well, you’ve -- oh,” he paused when her fingers looped around the base, “I mean if we’re being. . .if we’re being technical, you’ve made me cum plenty. The thought of you at least.” 

She didn’t know what to do with the information. The knowledge that Harry got off to the thought of her -- the imagery that invades her brain is enough to make each of her cells feel electric; sizzling and sparking as she pictured it. Harry is in his bed, surrounded by his crumpled bedding, face heated and body flushed as he works over himself. She imagined what it must have been like. Had he been trying to fall asleep but his mind danced toward her? Had it started out as an affection stiffy or was it pure arousal? What did he imagine when his fingers were wrapped around his cock? Was she riding him while he sat on the couch? Did he fuck her roughly over his desk, or was it soft sweet, and tender in his fresh cotton sheets? Maybe he’d even imagined sticking his prick deep in her mouth and fucking her face? Did he look as shy as he did right then? 

It was difficult to bite back the lewd noise that crawled up her throat, so she plugged her mouth with the head of his cock and stifled it against him. Harry’s head tossed back as her lips stretched over the tip, lulling her tongue against the slit where precum deliciously oozed. Y/N mustered all the spit in her mouth to drool over him -- she wanted it to be wet, sloppy, and messy for him -- wanted it to feel as if he’d dipped his cock into a warm pool. He deserved it, or at least she thought he did. 

Plus, she thought, if he kept looking down at her so shyly, with his knuckle tucked between his teeth as he watched her, she would just have to clip off a part of the moon and hand it to him. 

Despite her desire to keep watching him, Y/N had to tilt her head down so she could take more of him into her mouth. Her tongue stroked against the underbelly, slicked across the throb as she forced herself downward. Though her gag reflex was dodgy, she hummed to suppress it, sending vibrations down his shaft. His thighs squeezed around her body, her eyes watered once she got him to the back of her throat. She was only able to keep him there for a few seconds before she had to slide off, popping him out of her mouth before she gasped wetly. Strands of spit and his precum attach them to each other, but they bow and snap once she starts to twist her hand up and down quickly. Her lungs burned as she sucked in a breath to make up for the fact she hadn’t really been breathing well through her nose. 

She cradled his prick to sponge wet kisses down the side of it, down to his balls where she suckles and drools as she peeked up at him and felt a shiver run down her spine. Harry already appeared so fucked out, his chest heaved, his knuckle still tucked into his mouth to keep quiet. “Hey,” she panted, swallowing the spit that had collected in her mouth, “I want to hear you.” The hand that wasn’t preoccupied with his cock, she used to grab his wrist and pull down, “Let me hear you.” 

“Sorry,” he let her take his hand, but he maneuvered them so that he could slot their fingers together, and he held her hand tightly before he rested them on his thigh, “Haven’t had this done to me in a while, and with it being you I -- well, I’m just a bit of a mess.” 

“I like messes,” Y/N murmured against his head before she flicked her tongue along the frenulum, “Do you wanna hold my head? Or you could stand up and fuck my throat -- I’m good with either.” The moan that left his lips was well worth taking a moment to breathe, and she shivered at his whimpers when she circled the pad of her thumb at the underside of the head, “I just want you to feel good.” 

Harry squeezed her hand again, “I don’t know, Sweet girl, I just -- oh! Oh, fuck, baby,” Y/N had sunk back onto his prick by then, without a thought other than sucking him down and sucking him dry. He deserved it -- she thinks that if she could for him, she would stay on her knees for days on end and leave her mouth open for him to use as he pleased, “You’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that.” 

Again she hummed and sank as low as she could go, her throat spasming around the head while she used the other hand to cup his balls and his thighs tighten around her again in a little hug. It restricted the movement of her hand a bit, but he mewled, goosebumps pebbled over her skin as she felt him throb against her tongue once more. She drags off of him again for another breath, only this time she doesn’t tug at him while she does so. 

Y/N wondered what she looked like to him from this position. She��d only ever let one boy take a polaroid of her before when she’d been on her knees for him, and when she’d witnessed it after the fact she cringed. It was blurred, but the angle was awful and his thumb was halfway in front of the lens, so after he fell asleep she took it, cut it up into little slivers, and saved it to burn in the next bonfire she attended so that she would never have to look at it again. It had put her off blowies for a while, actually, but she had thrown all caution to the wind when it came to the man sitting above her. She hadn’t concerned if she looked pretty or not, she just wanted him to feel good, but now as her chin is wet and her lips no doubt reddened and swollen, she wondered if he thought she was still pretty. 

Maybe with anyone else, she would be far too self-conscious to ask, but with Harry, she doesn’t worry about it. Isn’t even the least bit nervous when she swallows and asks, “Do you think I’m pretty?” She murmured, blinking up at him.

Harry didn’t waste a second to respond, “I think you’re beautiful.” 

“Even like this?” Her hand began to move over him slowly, and she watched with delight as his eyelids fluttered, “Even all messy?” 

Another whine slithers from his throat, long and drawn, low and pitiful, “I --” he sucked in a deep breath, she watched as the air filled his lungs through a heave of his chest, “I always think you’re beautiful,” he admitted, “I think you’re an angel.” 

Satisfied with his answer, Y/N tucks the head of his prick in between her lips again but stays put. Only lets him sit against her tongue, trying hard not to smile when he makes a little desperate noise, “Baby,” he wiggled, “Please!” 

“Hm?” She hummed against him, and he bucked his hips a little in response. 

His hips stuttered away from her, “Sorry -- sorry, I --” she squeezed the hand she still held of his, encouraging him to do it again. It took him a minute to understand what she meant by it, but when she stayed in her place and squeezed his hand a second time, he rocked his hips up into her mouth again, “You want me to --” 

“Mhm,” she hummed again, and Harry does it again, and again, and again, stroking against her tongue and fucking shallowly into her mouth. She feels him throb again, and she knew it was going to happen soon; her insides bristled at the thought of him filling her mouth.

“So good,” he murmured, his head tilted back, “So, so, so good, fucking hell,” he panted, “Your mouth -- I’m g’na cum,” his hips jutted forward, “I’m g’na cum, I’m g’na cum.” 

The ache in her jaw burned only slightly, but she began to bob her head and started moving her hand. She wanted him to cum, and the quicker the better, honestly, because she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up. Y/N thinks she would have pushed herself just to make sure that he came, no matter how long it would have taken, but this was much better, she’d say, at least for her mouth.

His other hand did eventually find her head, and he doesn’t slide his fingers through her hair but he does lie his hand on the back of it. The pulse drums in her mouth, she tilted the head against the inside of her cheek and all his muscles go taut as a bow while he squeezed her hand tightly. His groaning is loud, he didn’t bother to muffle it at her request as he began to spurt into her mouth. It’s warm, so much of it filled her mouth and if she could smile at the joy of it then she would have but she had to keep all of it. She worked him through it, twisting her palm against his shaft until he squeezed her hand again, this time for a different reason as she kept on him until he was twitching and sensitive. 

Y/N pushed herself from her spot on the ground, and took hold of Harry’s chin, and used her thumb to pull his lips open. It took him only a moment to understand what she wanted, and he opened up for her easily, as she fixed their lips together and pushed his cum into his silky mouth. Harry moaned against her as he tasted himself, and once she parted with another little peck, she pulled back and swallowed the rest. He swallowed as well, staring at her with spit-slicked, fuchsia-colored lips as he panted. 

With the back of her hand, Y/N dragged it across her mouth to dry it, “You cum a lot,” she was careful in how she handled his softening prick, tucking it back into his sweatpants that she helped him tug up, “It tasted good though, so I guess that’s alright.” 

“Thank you,” he wrapped his arms back around her waist when she sat back down on his lap, where she had been before, “You’re wonderful. I’ll make you cum next, yeah?” 

“Mm,” she hummed, “I’m good for t’night, just wanted to do you.” The lavender tea was still warm, she could feel it from the ceramic that heated her fingertips, as she passed it off to his hand, “Since I have the most wonderful-est mouth in the world though, you could make me cookies or something.” 

Harry took a drink, she wondered if it sank warm and comforting in his belly, “I don’t have anything for making cookies, Pet, I’m sorry,” he continued before she could pout, “But -- well, I thought maybe we could go into town tomorrow. A picnic on the beach might be fun if you’d like that -- it’s supposed to be a bit nicer out than it has been. We could even stop by that bakery you like so much and get sweets, yeah?”

“I love picnics, but --” she stopped herself, the words dance on her tongue but she shot their feet and watched them crumble because she couldn’t say but you hate going into town, don’t you? Since they think you killed your wife? -- no, that wouldn’t do. Her stupid brain had been just seconds from ruining a nice moment, and no matter how badly she wanted to know the truth, she didn’t necessarily want to find out after his prick was in her mouth. It felt like a heavier conversation than just post-orgasm cuddles on his chair, “-- but I didn’t bring my basket.” She settled for instead and she watched as the concern that had been building on his face dissipated, “I’ve got a wicked picnic basket but I think I either lost it in the move or it’s still at my old place.” 

“That’s alright,” he began to rub her back with his free hand, “I’ve got one. It may not be as spectacular but it will do.” 

She pushed a kiss to her cheek, “Okay, good,” she told him, “Now finish your tea, I’m exhausted.” 

                                                         .                             .                           .

They cuddled that night; Harry liked to be a big spoon so he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

There is a nightmare -- a small one, nowhere near the extent of the other’s that she’s woken him from -- so she doesn’t have to wake him up as abruptly nor aggressively. She merely spun in his arms and petted at his face, murmuring for him to wake up only two times before his eyes blinked open. Before she could say anything, he reached up and held her hand closer to his cheek. 

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice gravelly, “I’m awake?” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, “You’re awake.” 

Harry nodded, “I’m awake,” he agreed quietly, his eyes fluttered shut again, “I love you.” 

Y/N’s brain doesn’t really catch it -- how could her brain catch anything, really? She was so sleepy, and Harry was so warm, and soft, and she wormed her body closer around his. 

“Love you too.” She murmured but her mouth is filled with marbles and her brain doesn’t catch that either. 

                                                              .                          .                         .

“Baker bezzy!” Adam cheered when the bell on the store door’s knob clinked against the glass at their arrival, a grin stretched wide on his mouth as he stuck his arms out high in the air, “Oh, how I’ve missed you -- but the cash registers have missed you more, m’sure of it.” His brows shot straight to the sky once his gaze shifted over to Harry, “Mr. Styles, always a pleasure! And Mr. Charlie, looking dashing.” 

Y/N loved a warm welcome and Adam was always keen on giving them. Charlie was strapped to her chest in his best picnic gear, dungarees beneath his purple coat and buckled shoes that Y/N knew she was going to pop off at some point so he could stuff his toes in the sand. He held her finger in one of his hands, flashing gummy smiles with a singular tooth that had begun to sprout, and Adam waved at him with three fingers. She was appreciative of his treatment toward Harry most of all though; despite his clear surprise that he was seeing him for the first time in what may be more than a year, he covered it well. 

“Hello,” Y/N smiled brightly, “My wallet surely hasn’t missed you though if I’m honest.” 

He holds his hand over his chest, “You wound me, but I’ll let it go. Lucky for you, I’ve just pulled your favorite out of the oven.” 

“Cinnamon rolls?” She gasped, and Adam used both of his hands, waving them toward himself. 

“Yes, yes, you can say it -- Adam, you’re the best, you’re so cool, oh my god what would we do without you -- wouldn’t be the first time I heard it, and you know what?” He plucked off the glove on his right hand, typing something into the register quickly, “They’re on the house, ‘cos I missed you lot so much. Take me on your trip next time.” 

Y/N thanked him about a dozen times before picking out what else she would like, and looping one of her fingers in Harry’s belt loops to tug him closer to the display, “D’ya want a chocolate puff? I dunno’ what that is but it sounds yummy.” 

She effectively racked up a little too much, but it’d been so long since she’d been here so she deemed it only appropriate. Plus, she got free cinnamon rolls which made it a little better. Y/N tried not to spend so much time speaking with Adam as she usually does, especially when she’d realized quickly that Harry was not adding much to the conversation. He probably felt awkward -- Y/N might if she hadn’t been down walking about town for a while, unknowing of how he might be received. Adam had been kind outwardly, but were his thoughts filled with malice? Was he looking at Harry up and down, debating on whether or not he was a cruel being?

Adam had been the one to bring it up to her, but he was also the first to disagree with the population consensus. Harry didn’t know that though -- all Harry knew was that Adam was working smack in the middle of a town that thought he’d killed his wife. Y/N couldn’t say that she would be up for much conversation at that point either, but she still tried to incorporate him into the conversation though he was more so responding with polite smiles and nods. There was little tension behind it but she could still sense his discomfort and ended the conversation with a wad of cash as her gratitude; he told them to come back soon and sent a wink in their direction.

She thought nothing of it -- he always winked, whether it be to her, or the older women that come in, she reckoned he was just being a flirt. It had been so insignificant, actually, that after they made their way to the private beach, laid his lavender-colored “bleach blanket” out to sit on, and unloaded the basket (that was filled with sandwiches, chips, fruit and veggie slices, the cinnamon rolls they’d just gotten for dessert, and some mashed peas and sweet potatoes for Charlie to eat), when Harry said, “He likes you,” Y/N is more than confused.

“Who, Charlie?” She had pulled him from where he was strapped on her stomach, flipping him around so he was sitting in her lap, leaning against her torso and staring out at the ocean, “I’d sure hope so, he has to see this ol’ mug often enough.” Y/N popped open the container of mashed peas, while she let him hold onto his spoon, his fingers wrapped tightly around it while he marveled at the ladybug figure on the handle.

Harry shook his head pensively, “No, not Charlie,” he responded, and in turn, Y/N’s brows furrowed, as she took the spoon from Charlie and dipped it in the peas, “Your baker bezzy. . .Adam.”

A scoffed laugh left her mouth as she gaped at him, “Adam?” Her movements pause, the spoon stopping just short of Charlie’s mouth, and a frustrated whine peels from the back of his throat, “He absolutely does not like me!”

“I think he does,” he twists his ring at the bottom of his pinky finger, but instead of bashfully looking to the side his eyes bore into her own, “How he looks at you and talks to you -- he winked at you and gave you free cinnamon rolls. . .” he trailed off, before repeating firmly, “I think he does.”

“I think that he’s just a bit of a friendly flirter and I leave good tips,” she shook her head again, “But like me? Not like that, I’m certain of it.”

Harry straightened out his back, “How do you know?”

It hadn’t been what she was expecting, and she’s flustered as she fumbles over, “Because I just know! I figure I could piece together if someone had feelings for me or not.”

“You didn’t know I had feelings for you,” he pointed out, reaching forward to wipe away some of the food that had dribbled onto Charlie’s chin before wiping it away with a napkin, “I’d been -- I’d been enamored by you since the first week we’d met, and you had no clue, did you?”

Her eyes bulged wide, as she exclaimed, “No you weren’t!” Because she wasn’t that blind, was she? The first few weeks they knew each other Harry had been so cold and closed off; she would shuffle back and forth anxiously behind him while he methodically made his morning coffee hoping he wasn’t moments from telling her she was fired. As time went on, they’d certainly gotten closer, but she would have had to say that bridge was crossed further than just a week of meeting, “Harry, I thought you hated me that first week.”

“I was incredibly fond of you. More so than I should have been and more so than I particularly cared to admit at the time. You smelled like fresh linen and sweets all the time, and your smile always reached your eyes; I never imagined you would feel even remotely the same for me, so I tried to be as distant as possible with you working in my house but it was difficult -- you made it very difficult.” Again, Y/N wishes that even for a moment he would break away his gaze, because she’s captivated by his words and mesmerized by the way the sunlight brought sparkles to the green of his irises, “When you held me for the first time, it felt like my insides had melted and it was all I could think about for weeks after.”

Her heart was hammering, thundering in her ears, “Harry --”

“And I was so cold toward you because I hated myself for feeling that way, but it felt good to be warmed in the light that you emit. All of that is beside the point,” he huffed out a breath, pointing his finger toward himself, “If I could hide that right under your nose, then he could definitely hide liking you behind free cinnamon rolls and cheeky winks.”

It took Y/N a while to find what to say, her mind racing a hundred thoughts a second, but she felt as if no response she conjured up would be good enough. Her heart filled with butterflies, that fluttered down to her stomach and made her giddy all over. She felt like a kid again, as she flushed warm, so it was only reasonable that in true teenage fashion her response was to nudge him with her foot, trying not to grin as hard as she wanted to.

“Harry,” she began, “You’re jealous.”

A disgruntled look took his face, and for a moment Y/N almost regrets saying it, but then he responds.

“I am,” he admitted, shoulders slumped and for the first time he shifts his gaze from her to the ring he’s twisting around his finger, “Like a petulant child,” he sounded upset with himself, giving a strong sigh, “I am jealous that you may have feelings for him because I think you two would do well with each other. And I -- I fear that I’m not very fun.”

His honesty is a lot, but it’s refreshing. Like breathing the air of a meadow far from the city smog that sat heavy in the lungs, where the grass is green and dewy, the flowers have all blossomed, it feels like living in a painting and it smells like renewal and it’s clear as looking through crystals. He speaks from his heart; his words are sincere, and it makes her feel like she’s floating. She wishes he didn’t look so grumpy about it though -- and she wishes he didn’t think that he wasn’t fun.

So Y/N plopped the spoon back into the peas and set it off to the side for a moment, placing her hand on Charlie’s tummy and keeping him pressed to her body as she began to shuffle from where she’d been positioned. She carefully avoided the food they had set up, but she urgently pats at his thighs until he gets the hint to spread them open. Y/N spun around so she faced out toward the water again, only this time she pressed her back up against his torso and lied against him, settling Charlie back in the cradle of her crossed legs, taking the peas in hand.

“If I had feelings for Adam that surpassed friendly, then I would be in the bakery kneading bread or summat. And if I didn’t have fun with you Harry, then I would avoid every chance of seeing you outside of your house for more than a few minutes at the time,” she tilted her head back, craning her neck so that she could look up at him some, and she finds that he’s looking at her, “If I wanted to be anywhere else right now, then I would be, but I’m not because I want to be with you.” She knocks his foot against hers, “Aish, you’re silly.”  

Harry smiled, his hand cradled the side of her face and petted at her jawline tenderly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, the waves crash against the shore in a particularly loud burst but he’s so close she can still hear him clearly, “I know I worry too much. I’ve never had this amount of reassurance before.”

She grinned, “Well if it’s reassurance you need, then I’ve got a load of it!” Y/N dipped the spoon in the peas and fed Charlie again, “I love a bit of reassurance myself, so I try to dish it out as much as possible, y’know?”

He dips his forehead against the back of her head, and breathes in deep, wrapping his arms around both her and Charlie.

Harry says nothing but he doesn’t have to.

Their lunch is pleasant, the sun is warm, and Charlie fell asleep soon after they had finished, resting with his cheek on her chest and his arms slung around her body. Y/N was moments from sleep herself, with her belly full and her mind swimming in drowsy clouds. It hadn’t helped that Harry was petting so gently at her arm, accompanied with murmured stories of his childhood by her request. Harry had always told her that he’d grown up with money, and from the time spent with his parents that much was clear, but she was curious by the extent of it. Growing up her family hadn’t been in the worst shape, but definitely not the best, so the polarity of their younger years was interesting to her.

He’d told her about the birthdays that he had, one of which included him and his four closest friends taking a trip to Disney World. His parents covered the entirety of the visit, along with bringing Harry’s nanny along so that she could watch over all five of the nine-year-olds (which clued her in that paying for nannies on their trips was a standard practice Harry had carried over). Nothing had been off-limits, he’d told her, that whatever he had set his eyes on he got and Y/N mused over the possibilities of all the things his nine-year-old self had determined he needed. Shirts, stuffies, figurines -- he told her his mum had kept them all, and each year on his birthday she sends one of the stuffed animals with his actual gift (which she’d been doing for eight years now, meaning that he had gotten at least eight stuffed animals and with the price of those things? Christ!).

And then he told her about his first kiss, back when he was 11 under an apple tree at his Nan’s farm, with the daughter of a family friend. He told her it was horrible, and he’d been so nervous that he’d cried leading up to it, but he regarded the memory fondly. Harry kept in touch with her for years after and had even been the first person she’d come out to when they were teenagers -- he came with her on her first date and spied from a distance because she had watched one too many crime shows and had been positive she was going to be kidnapped, but it went well. When the date had gone to the restroom, Harry slid over to the table and slipped her money to pay the tab and get ice cream afterward.

Y/N had inquired about his schooling, and he told her all the ins-and-outs of the private school that he’d attended. He said it had been pleasantly boring, but went on to tell her an extensive four-part story about a student-teacher relationship that somehow managed to last three of their four years there. It had pulled her from the dreamy state she had slipped into, finding that she’d slipped down so her head was in his lap as she opened her eyes and gaped up at him, “That’s like -- like, incredibly illegal.”

“Don’t I know it,” Harry had agreed, “I always knew something was up with the bloke — he ate raisin bread every lunch period.”

A horrified gasp left her mouth, “No, the monster! Why every lunch period?”

“Couldn’t tell you. It was very unsettling.”

After that, Harry started describing a trip that he’d taken to Japan during cherry blossom season, and went into extreme detail about how the air smelled, and how the wind felt against his skin. He told her that words and pictures would never be able to translate how beautiful it was, but he tried his best to as he traced looping patterns with the tips of his fingers onto her cheeks. That’s when her eyes had fluttered closed, and that’s when she started falling into a pleasant slumber. Harry still spoke though she knew he could see that she was falling asleep, but he doesn’t mention it other than caressing her jaw and murmuring, “Sleepy thing.”

Y/N is unsure how long they are there, but she is very sure that she’s never been more comfortable in her life. And as he coaxes her awake, she opened her eyes, squinting at the sun that still sat high over them while she tried to refocus on his face, “Hm?” She hummed and Harry giggled brightly.

“I said let’s get you two home, Angel,” he helped guide her from his lap, but he doesn’t rush her -- just a gentle hand on her back as she cradles a still-sleeping Charlie to her body as she sat up, “When I checked the weather they called for rain in an hour or two. Reckon it wouldn’t be very fun to get caught up in the storm.”

They clean up after themselves thoroughly, and Y/N carefully places Charlie in his holder that was fixed on Harry’s chest this time. As they walk toward the car, Y/N can tell that Harry is deep in thought but she doesn’t question him on it -- she didn’t like to pry or push him to say things if he wasn’t ready to, which made it all the more gratifying when he did open up to her, even about little things. Though this thing, apparently, had felt very big to Harry -- at least the furrow in his brow was telling her that.

“I --” he began, and Y/N paused, her hand wrapped around the handle of the door, humming to let him know she was listening, “I need to go to the store.”

She controlled her features well enough, she’d say, because her brows don’t skyrocket at the suggestion of going in an even more public area than the bakery, “Oh? What d’ya need?”

With a clear of his throat, he explained, “We ran out of creamer and paracetamol,” his fingers are clutched tight around the keys but he finally digs the pad of his thumb on the button to unlock the car, “It’ll only be a moment.”

Y/N popped the door open, “Well that’s easy enough! I can pop in for you if you want. Or we could go in together too!” It rolled off her tongue -- she tried to act as natural as she could about it; she couldn’t let him go into that store alone. The thought of it gave her hives all over, “I might as well pick up a few things myself.”

Harry gave a ruminative smile, one that barely reached his eyes and only twitched the corner of her mouth by the smallest of quirks. It was very reminiscent of the sort of smiles she’d been privy to when they’d first met, and she’d not realized how much she hadn’t missed it at all. She liked the smiles that she received now, big and bright, rosy cheeks but a beautiful light behind his gaze. No, this one was cold and contemplative -- this one spoke of loneliness and pain.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to go in by yourself.” Harry questioned and she didn’t waste a moment, nodding quickly.

“Of course,” she popped the door open, “Yeah, we’ll both go in then. In and out, right?”

He was nervous. Even if Y/N had not an inkling of a clue about his past (and his present, she guesses) with this town, she could feel the tension thick and heavy in her chest. It makes her shuffle uncomfortably, silence filling the car apart from the tick of his blinker as they made their way to the market. Her heart hammered as he parked the car, and it continued to hammer as they got out of the car, Harry placed Charlie into his holder against his body and they walked toward the store. Y/N tried to lighten the mood even just a little, and again she got that tiny little smile, that made her shoulders sink just slightly.

She thinks the tension eases when they walk through the doors and are not immediately stoned. Y/N isn’t a hundred percent sure what the both of them expected, but she guesses something to that extent was what had built up in their heads. A deep breath in and she tried one more time, and squeezed his shoulder once as a silent reminder that she was right there beside him, “They have those red bean buns here, right? I’ll get us some of those.”

Harry scrunched his nose at her, “I think your body functions solely off sweets now, doesn’t it? If not for me  you would not eat any real food.”

It felt as if both of them had been holding air in their lungs but finally sighed out, and each passing minute without a scene breaking out among the others in the grocery, the more they both relaxed. While she could still feel Harry’s worry, he had even begun joking some with her, not letting his guard down but making an effort not to let on how uncomfortable he was to her.

Y/N had really thought they’d made it through the whole store without any trouble, as she slipped the red bean buns into their basket. Harry had been right in the middle of asking her if she’d like anything else while they were still here, just as they passed a woman in a purple knitted sweater. If Y/N hadn’t been staring at one of the stitches at the back of the neck that was just a bit loose, she may not have caught it, and maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t. Maybe it would have been better if her ears hadn’t perked up to hear the uttered, “Disgusting,” that left the woman’s mouth as her gaze caught Y/N’s.

Her brows dip as she paused, her upper half had already been turned and her bottom half followed so she faced the woman fully, “Excuse me?” Y/N said it without thinking, and Harry hums as if he thought she was speaking to him, “Ma’am, what did you say?”

The woman had little shame as she turned to face Y/N, face pinched as if she were revolted, and Y/N’s heart began to sink as she realized what was happening, and with Harry right beside her no less, “I said disgusting,” she put emphasis on the word, “For him to show his face here. We all thought he’d moved.”

Y/N scoffed, “Listen, you need to --”

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice cut through her sentence, his hand resting idly on her shoulder, drawing her attention from the woman, “It isn’t worth it. We should go home.”

The pain in his eyes makes her heart sink lower; she felt as it eroded in her stomach’s acid, and the fight in her had been snuffed out like a small flame beneath a shoe. Y/N looked from the both of them, perturbed by the situation, conflicted only slightly as she swallowed and began to turn away from her. She would have left to -- for Harry’s sake, she would have left and pretended that it hadn’t happened at all until he felt comfortable enough to bring it up -- she would have, really.

“Yeah, why don’t you go home? Wife killer.”  

She really would have.

“Actually, I think you’re the disgusting one,” Y/N had begun as she turned back around, “To say something so cruel. He lost his wife and you’ve decided that it’s his fault? You’re the worst kind of cruel -- downright evil,” her nails pinch into her palms, “You’re awful!”

“Y/N --” Harry tried again, but the woman cut her off quickly.

“He’s the awful one!” She seemed shocked Y/N could have even suggested otherwise, “You’re new here, Honey, so I’ll let you in on what your boyfriend did. He killed his wife after treating her awfully -- cheating on her!” Her words were vile, and to say all of this in front of Harry. The rage that lit through her vessels was enough to make her feel like she was burning up, “And he got away with it ‘cos he can afford fancy lawyers to cover up the truth. So before you go around calling people you don’t know evil, look at the man beside you. And learn some respect.”

Y/N took a small breath, just a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Fuck off.”

“Excuse me?” The woman’s brows raise.

“Respectfully, Fuck. Off.” Y/N’s glare was undeviating, but she could feel eyes on them -- other people watching them closely, though they wouldn’t show it outright, “Were you there when it happened?” She stepped forward, “Or are you God? Some deity?” The woman appeared confounded, like her argument should have been able to sway Y/N, “I don’t think you are -- I think. . .I think you’re a foul creature that thinks you have the right to judge a situation you had no part of. And I think you should think about someone’s feelings before you start saying something with no real basis other than word of mouth from other people just as rotten as you. You really need to do some soul searching if you think that this is the proper way to confront anyone about your feelings. I hope you think about this before you go to bed at night.” She stepped back, closer toward Harry before taking another small breath, “You’re lucky you didn’t wake the baby, or you would have really upset me. Goodbye.”

With this, she turned back on her heel,  and carefully guided Harry by his shoulder to follow her as he let the basket sit on the ground where they’d been. Her eyes burned with tears of frustration and anger, as the look on his face when the woman had first stopped them replayed over and over again in her head. Maybe if she had fought him on it -- maybe if she had just fought him a little harder, he would have stayed in the car and she could have spared him from having to hear that woman. She gave in too easily, and when he tried to get them to leave, she stayed to fight which. . .well, she doesn’t regret saying anything that she did, but she does regret making Harry look bad if she had.

All she had done was bring more attention to them -- she blew it out wide open and brought everyone into his business. She wouldn’t be shocked if he were upset with her. . .no matter her defending him.

“Y/N,” he says her name, but she doesn’t respond at first, swallowed in her thoughts she barely registered that he’d said anything, “Y/N.”

“Yes?” She responded, her hand sliding from his shoulder and back down toward her side.

He paused for a moment, “You knew?”

For a moment, everything freezes.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart hiccuped over a beat; Y/N’s fingers twitched where they sat at her sides, her lips hung open waiting for her brain to muster a response -- anything. Could she figure out something to say? Anything at all?

“Y --” she sighed, her blood roaring in her ears, “Yes,” she answered, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I knew. But not -- I didn’t know at the start at all.”

“How long?” Charlie began to blink his eyes open, slow as a pleased cat, “You knew for how long?”

Was he angry with her? Y/N couldn’t tell -- she couldn’t read him at all and it made her palms sweat. She hadn’t been technically lying but she still felt immense guilt suffocating her at the realization that she hadn’t been entirely truthful either. Not that she ever had the opportunity to just. . .bring it up, but still -- fuck, she didn’t know what to do.

“Since the third week.”

                                                       .                            .                         .

The ride to his house is silent.

Not the comfortable one that they sometimes fell into; like when she’s so focused staring out the window that no words come to her mouth, where the engine’s lulled purr and Charlie’s small giggles and babbles fizzled through the quiet. The kind where Harry had much recently started placing his hand on her thigh, resting it there with no real purpose other than to touch her. One where she feels content and calm, and if she let her eyes flutter shut she could drift off to sleep, the sun disappearing and reappearing as they drive past trees creating pink flickers behind her lids.

No, this wasn’t like that at all.

There was no noise. It felt like even the car had sensed the tension and held its breath waiting for one of them to slice words through the quiet. Her gaze was trained out the window but her fingers shook and her heart raced -- she could hear it thumping in her ears. She should have kept her mouth shut, she’s decided that if she hadn’t said anything at all then everything would be okay. If she had ignored the woman’s tasteless murmur, then she and Harry could have been laughing right now. Maybe they would have sat at one of the park benches, or pushed Charlie on the swing. Maybe Harry would share one of her sweets with her while the sun began to sink. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so downtrodden and gloomy.

Clouds thick with rain pulled in from the North and had Harry not mentioned them earlier, she would have thought the weather had changed with the mood. It was befitting, at the very least, the heavy drops spatter the glass as the gates open for them, and the loud iron hinges that usually make her cringe is a welcomed piercing into the silence. If it were a normal day, Y/N would joke that they should ditch the gate and invest in a moat instead  -- she thinks Harry might have chuckled.

Y/N half expects him to tell her to go home, but he doesn’t. The first words he spoke after about 20 minutes of nothing was a gentle request to take Charlie in, and warning her that Niall would be stopping by for something. She vaguely remembered him mentioning Niall earlier before all this, so she doesn’t panic that he was lifting her of her duties and going back to how things had been before her, but the thought had still arisen, no matter how fleeting.

“Do you need help grabbing everything?” She inquired, but he only shook his head.

“I’ll be okay.”

It was rotten -- this feeling that had begun to overcome her was as rotten as the wood in a forgotten cabin and as dense as sludge from the bottom of a polluted river. This was her fault. . .god, if she had just kept her stupid mouth shut!

But how could she? The lady had been so spiteful and so cruel, and to witness it happening rather than just theorizing about it, made it much too real. At that moment, the weight of what Harry had been going through here had finally settled deep in her chest and it made her sick. She didn’t know what happened but she knew he had vivid nightmares -- she knew the lost, faraway look that would take over his face at the mention of his wife, and she knew the pain that crossed his features every moment he’d uttered how he doesn’t really go to town.

They all so viciously passed judgment on them for something they knew absolutely nothing about and Y/N defended him for something she knew nothing about. It felt as if it had happened either seconds ago or hours ago like she was caught in a figure-eight of time that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be -- seconds, minutes, hours. Tears still burned behind her eyes but she refused to shed them, as she hid away for a little while with Charlie in his playroom. The only time she comes out is just a little over two hours of them being home when it was time for Charlie’s supper. Just as she’d stepped onto the hardwood from the last step, the doorbell rang and Y/N was quick to answer it.

Niall is revealed once she pulls the door open, and the warmth of his grin combats the chill of evening air that rushed in the foyer, “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hi,” she smiled, stepping out of the way so that he could step in, “How was your winter break?”

Niall loosened his scarf from around his throat, “If Mr. Styles asks, it was dull, boring and I couldn’t wait to get back to work, but between you, me, and Charlie, I wish we had about four more weeks of it.”

She led them in and went to the kitchen while Niall made his way to Harry’s office. Y/N fuddled about making Charlie’s dinner, but could only stomach a glass of water for herself as she fed him. Normally she would dance between giving Charlie some, then eating a bite of her food, and making idle chatter with him as she did so. She still tried to chatter at him so he didn’t notice the difference, but she knew he could feel something was off. Babies were smart little things, and they could read energy better than anyone in a room like they had built-in radars that either dampen or strengthen with time.

Instead of feeding off it in a bad way and getting fussy, he’s just extra cuddly though. Held one of her fingers while she slid mashed carrots into his mouth and cooed at his puckered lips while he tasted it. No matter what happened today, this little guy knew no different -- just another day for him. . .she longed to switch places.

Just as she had wiped his face clean of his food and filled the dishwasher with what she used, the door to Harry’s office opens, followed by a call of, “See you, Mr. Styles!” So she turned her body toward the opening to the kitchen so she could bid him a farewell too, and soon enough he pops into the frame, “Hey, I’m heading out. Mr. Styles said after you lay Charlie down to come speak with him,” Y/N’s breathing hitched, Niall raised his fingers that he had crossed with a grin, “Hope it’s for a raise. See you later!”

“See you later,” she called after him but it was weak, and her heart (that had just finally begun to settle) began to hammer again. It continued to do so as she pulled Charlie from his seat, and all throughout his nighttime routine. She still tries for him, smiling at him, humming, and talking as she washed him clean of the day, blew raspberries into his tummy after she lotioned his skin, and dressed him in something warm and cozy. Charlie would fall asleep if she set him in his crib, she knew that, but to soothe herself and prolong what may be an intense conversation, she sat him in her lap and read him a story. Even after he’d fallen asleep in her arms, she pressed her nose to his soft hair and tried to calm herself down.

Eventually, it couldn’t be helped any longer. Her nerves got the better of her and she lowered him into his crib, turned off the light, clicked his sound machine on low, and crept out of the room quietly. She knew Harry would still be in his office because she hadn’t heard him go to his bedroom, so she walked down the steps and tried to soothe the worry from her bones as she grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen. No matter what, it was still Harry -- still the man who was always so gentle and kind with her. Today had thrown him off -- it would throw anyone off, so she understood why he was so quiet and distant. She would be too if the circumstances were flipped.

Still, she hated how this felt, as her knuckles knocked against the wood and she held her breath, waiting for him to speak.

“Come in.”

One more deep breath and she pushes the door open, and instead of making her way to his side like she had been doing, she stood at the door awkwardly, waiting for him to speak first. If she had been the one to initiate this then she would have prepared something to say, but she stays quiet -- he invited her down, so he had something to say, and she was keen on hearing it. Harry stood in front of his desk, his bum resting against the lip of it with his legs outstretched, and he held himself up with his hands on either side of him. He doesn’t avoid her gaze, locking it with her own, and she watched as he took a deep breath of his own, blowing a small stream of air through pursed lips.

“First, I want to apologize,” he finally started, and Y/N swallowed thickly, “I shouldn’t have -- I shouldn’t have subjected you to an environment I knew could have been hostile. We should have gone home and I should have just ordered it.” Her brows knit immediately, and she opened her mouth to refute that, that could have been his fault in any way but he held up his hand, “Please, Sweetheart, I -- I need to -- I need to get through this.”

She nodded, the twist in her belly partially satiated by the term of endearment -- he wasn’t mad at her, at the very least -- that helped a great deal.

“I should have, but I hadn’t because  -- because things just feel so normal with you, and I wanted that. . .I wanted to go to the grocery store with you how we could in the city, and to be normal here. I thought that maybe we could, but for my own selfish reasons, I didn’t think it through nearly enough.” He shook his head at himself, “And I apologize for shutting down the way that I did on the ride home. It was naive of me to believe you could work for me this long and not know what is thought of me here. I think a part of me thought you might know but you had always -- you had always treated me so kindly, and you never asked questions so I had suspicions that you may have heard a passing word of it but not in great detail.” One of his hands, he combs through his hair, sighing before he started again, his voice shook only slightly with the first syllable before he got a hold of it, “I told myself several times that if you. . .if you had ever asked what had happened to my wife, I would tell you everything. I would open my heart to you in every way imaginable before you could -- before they could say anything to you. So I was frustrated finding out that you had already heard that side of it, and that I wasn’t able to speak with you before you could think that I was a murderer --”

“I don’t,” she cut him off firmly, “I don’t think that at all.”

His lips twitched again, in a small smile that just barely reached his eyes that tilted down to the floor, “I want to tell you,” he took in a shaky breath, “I need to tell you, but I’m scared. I haven’t. . .I haven’t really told anyone the whole thing, but --” he looked back up to her, “Do you want to know? Are you -- are you willing to listen to me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she answered with assured conviction, without even a moment passing by, “I want you to tell me everything. If you want me to know then I want to know.”

He nodded,  “Okay,” he murmured, “Can we sit?”

They positioned themselves on the couch, and Y/N took the decorative pillow that would be pressed against her back and sat it in her lap. She curled her arms around it, her fingers idly playing with the tassel at the bottom left corner just to give herself something to do. Harry was preparing himself to speak, and despite how relieved she was to finally get the story, she felt her heart clench in pity for him. Re-living it would be difficult, but he wanted to tell her -- he said he needed to tell her -- so she would listen.

“Ebba and I had met when we were 18 but had only been officially together for 2 years before we started to have problems,” he finally said, shifting uncomfortably on his side of the couch, his fingers fixed around the ring he’d been playing with earlier today, “It was little stuff at first -- little fights and grievances, but we both had decided that it was normal, that kind of thing. Couples bicker and argue because they love each other enough to, that’s what my mum had always said and it had always sounded about right. So we would have tiffs and make-up and it would be well again, but. . .well, the arguments started getting a little worse, especially around our anniversary. She kept accusing me of cheating on her, again and again, and again, but I hadn’t even so much as thought about another woman since I asked her on our first date.” He stared at a spot on the floor -- he looked far away, “And it’s a shit feeling being accused of something like that, so I would fight her back.”

“You’d think we would have taken a break or something to cool off from each other, but we were 23 so instead we moved in together. Thought maybe if we were around each other more then questions of infidelity could be shattered because we would be around each other more. This is around the time I started really gaining my footing in the industry, you know? And Ebba -- well, she’d already had a well-established place at her mother’s company so she was doing just fine. We played happy home for a little while in the new place in the city but it went. . .it went bad again, a few months in. She became very. . .aggressive when we fought, like -- like smashing things and breaking things, but I always figured that was kind of my fault. Could never admit when I was in the wrong about something so I’d just keep pushing her, y’know? Or it had felt that way at least, like no matter what I said I would just push her and push her and push her. But we --” he dipped his head down, staring into his lap, “We loved each other so much, we didn’t want to end things. Had plenty of conversations about ending it, and she’d even packed her bags a few times but we’d never go through with it. If she left, she’d show back up at our flat the next day.”

He took a small breath, pausing for a moment like he was collecting his thoughts again and Y/N offered him the water that sat at their feet. Harry nodded and took two drinks before he continued.

“My mum suggested couple’s counseling, ‘cos she and my father had once when they were younger, so we did. The woman they had gone to see was still in practice so we went and did about 12 sessions. It worked for a little while, or well enough that I thought proposing was the next best step -- we had re-entered that honeymoon stage again and it felt like we were on top of the world. So I proposed and we got married, and it was good for a few months but then I got a promotion,” he twisted the cap back on the bottle, setting it back where it had been on the ground beside her leg, “So I was traveling less with her, and I had less time off but that was a decision I made for myself, the company hadn’t made it. I wanted to -- for selfish reasons. . .it was all for selfish reasons. I wanted more money and I wanted to climb up the company and to learn from the best, but I couldn’t do that if I was spending summer weeks in Cabo. But I never -- I was never clear behind my motives for doing it, so she thought I was just trying to avoid her. Avoid her and “fuck some old computer prick’s wife” is what she would say. And the more we would fight, the longer I would stay at work, the less we would see each other.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning; it felt like Harry was dropping pieces of information that she followed closely behind to collect, fixing them into a timeline that he’d created. Her heart was still beating quickly.

“The first time I caught her cheating, she cried to me after I walked in on them -- it was some bloke from her job, I think, but she had thought I was gone at a business conference for a week. We’d had a massive fight before I left about me leaving, so I had changed my flight a day early to surprise her. The flat was trashed and she was there on the bed with him in our room. I wanted to leave -- to stay at a hotel for the night but she was sobbing, and she was drunk, and I couldn’t leave her alone. So I stayed, and the next few days were rough but then we talked it out, and we cried, and it was good again.” He gave a small self-deprecating smile, “That happened only one more time in that flat, but it technically “didn’t count” because we were on something of a break. I didn’t really see it as that kind of break, but I hadn’t been clear, I suppose.”

It was hard to hear him reflect on it, still finding fault in things that he shouldn’t at all find fault in. Her chest ached for him.

“I went back to school for my Master’s in an accelerated program when I was about 25. I told her I wanted to teach because I wanted to share my knowledge and help students put their best foot forward how some of my good professors allowed me to. Which was true, for the most part, but most of me just wanted to be away from her. I couldn’t handle it anymore -- the fighting, and the breaking, the yelling and the. ..and the hitting. It just felt good to not be home, but instead of being honest with her, I just found more reasons to not be alone with her for more than a dinner or two. I regret that. . .I regret not being honest.” He took in a shaky breath, “2ish before she died, we moved out here, and that was the real end for us. It started out kind of good, like always but then she started disappearing for days at a time. She had started drinking a lot and partying, and the worse our fights got. I tried to get her help -- I could see she was unhappy and this was never the life she wanted to live. It was too close to her father, and she hated it, and so I tried but she didn’t want it. She would say that she wasn’t addicted to anything, she was just having fun because life with me was miserable. I told her I wanted a divorce.”

His eyes had started to become glossy, she noticed how dewy they looked from the glow of his lamp, so she placed her hand on his knee and stroked it carefully with her thumb.

“At first she didn’t fight me on it, only packed her bags and said she would be with her mother for a while. A week later she came and told me that Charlie was in her belly and he was mine -- it was bittersweet. For once I understood why people tried to make marriages work for a child’s sake, and for nine months we were. . .fine. We weren’t awful but we weren’t good either -- we were just fine. But when Charlie was born I. . .” he paused, “When he was born I just had a feeling. A sick, disgusting feeling but it was there nagging at the back of my head and I couldn’t quiet it. So one day when she had gone out with her friends, I took Charlie and we got a paternity test.”

Y/N forces her face to stay neutral.

Her breathing pauses entirely.

“5 days later I found out that Charlie wasn’t mine,” his brows furrowed, and he shook his head, “I confronted her about it. I didn’t -- I didn’t care that he wasn’t mine, I had already fallen in love with him but I needed her to know that I knew. I wanted to know who his real father was. I wanted to know why, if there was any doubt that he could have been mine, did she not tell me. She got upset, she took Charlie and went to stay with her mother again. I didn’t see either of them for 4 months, until -- until one day someone knocked on my door but they were gone before I’d gotten there, and in their place was Charlie. It was too cold for him to be out there so I brought him inside first and I made sure he was warm and taken care of before I called her. I called her again, and again, and again, and again. Niall was there for that, which -- well, he really shouldn’t have been here even while he’s a TA but he was struggling with the material for an exam in one of his other courses and asked me to help him. I hadn’t been on campus so he drove out and we’d been studying in my office.” He explained, wiping a tear from his cheek, “I wonder. . .I always wonder what must have been going on in his head to see his professor like that. Couldn’t bring myself to look at his face but he was playing with Charlie for me, while I was pacing.”

“I checked her location and saw she was in the city, and I -- I apologized and begged Niall to sit with Charlie while I went to see if everything was okay. I just had this horrible feeling, because it hadn’t felt like the other times where she would just disappear and not answer my calls. If she was in the city already then it couldn’t have been her to drop Charlie off, someone else had. Halfway there I got a call from her mum and -- she was sobbing, and asking if Ebba was with me. If I knew where she was, and I told her I was on my way there. She told me that Ebba had written her a letter and left it on the counter for her, for when she got home. She said she was going to -- she said she was done with it all. With everything -- with life.”

It’s getting harder for him to continue, tears fall freely from his eyes now but he still won’t allow himself to truly break and Y/N’s hold on his knee tightens.

“She was at this bridge -- it used to be really popular a decade ago but they started construction on it that never finished, so it was basically deserted. By the time I had gotten there, the police were already there and they were -- her body was covered at the river below the bridge. I cried into the dirt, and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed until an officer’s hands touched my back and he sat me up. Her mom showed up around then too. It was awful. . .it was so, so, so fucking horrible.” He wiped at his face again, “When they actually looked over her, she was -- she had a lot of different drugs in her system.”

“And everyone. . .everyone in this fucking town had thought I killed her and after. . .and after all this time, it started to feel like it. I would have -- I hadn’t seen her for months at that point, there was nothing I could have done, but they look at me like I’m a fucking monster. Like I pushed her off the bridge myself. There stupid fucking theories -- they didn’t think I could hear them but I could. How I didn’t act like Charlie was my son because I resented him and his mother. I love him with my whole heart but those first few months after her death and even sometimes now I’m just so. . .I’m so scared that his biological father will come for him. I didn’t want to -- it sounds stupid now, but I didn’t want to get too close so it wouldn’t hurt as bad when he was taken from me, but even that didn’t work. I’m stiff and stuffy but I love him, and even though the whole relationship was nothing but tattered ribbon by the end, I would have never hurt her. I had. . .I didn’t love her anymore. I hadn’t felt any true love for her for years at that point, but I didn’t want her dead, and with a child in this world no less! But no -- no they made me out to be a killer.“

Y/N is overwhelmed by all of it -- every single word had been more and more difficult to process, and there was no hope of her being able to formulate a response that would do him any good just moments after he’d finished telling her. Sympathy and sorrow weigh in her muscles as she moves forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Harry’s body and dragging him into her own. As if had taken a sledgehammer to the last stonewall he had up around him, he sobs. He holds her close, even tighter than he has after a nightmare, and he lets every emotion that he’d been bottling up out all at once. It’s heartbreaking; her own tears wet her cheeks.

She isn’t sure how long he cried, but it wanes slowly, reduced to hiccups and sniffles. Y/N would have held him to her chest as long as he wanted -- all night and into the morning if that’s what he needed -- but when he’s finally settled, he begins to withdraw. His cheeks are red and wet, his eyes are puffy, his lips are bitten swollen and fuchsia red -- he looks absolutely fucking exhausted. Y/N cradles his face in her hands and guides him to look at her, stroking the damp skin of his face with her thumbs as she spoke.

“Thank you for telling me. I know it must have been very hard,” he nodded, “I don’t think I could ever have the right words to say, to absolve you of any guilt you’re feeling, or to make any of your pain go away, but I do -- I do want to tell you,” his lips quiver, “That Charlie is your son, even though you don’t share blood. You’ve raised him, and you care for him, and when he sees you you can just tell that he is yours, and no matter what happens nothing can change that fact. And I wanted to tell you, that you were not at fault for her death. There was nothing you could have done, so you cannot blame yourself for that, because she was sick Harry.  And you can’t solely take the blame for what you’d been through in your relationship either -- it was abusive. You’ve been through so, so much and nobody should ever have to go through anything like that,” she leaned forward, and pushed a kiss to his forehead, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I wish I could take it all away.”

Harry took in a shaky breath, “Thank you for listening to me,” he murmured, “And for. . .and for not believing them and what they said about me. And for telling Mrs. Stuart off in the grocery. And for. . .for everything,” he dipped down, touching their foreheads together, and he giggled a small bit, “I want -- I want to get better. To process all the trauma of it so I can be the best version of myself for you and Charlie. Reckon I should probably look into therapy.”

Y/N breathed out a laugh, “I think that may be beneficial, yeah. Think everyone could use a bit of therapy -- nothing shameful about it.”

“Yeah,” he nodded to himself, “I think I’ll do that.”

                                                     .                              .                               .

Y/N had not foreseen how light the air around them would be. Even lighter than before; if a week ago it felt like floating on clouds with him, then now they move when the wind blows even a gentle gust. It’s good and it’s freeing, and if it feels as if there’s a weight off her chest then she knows Harry must feel a weight off his.

It was a lot — all of it was so much, and she doesn’t think she could truly comprehend the pain that Harry had suffered through but though it hurts to know, she’s glad to understand him more. To understand all his stony bits and all his worn, weathered bits. To push a piece that had been missing in the puzzle and see the full picture — and while it was agonizing to retell, she noticed how even now Harry has softened more, and she had already thought he was as soft as he could’ve been.

As if he were porcelain, Y/N treats him delicately. She knows how he must feel right now, exhausted and raw; his inner thoughts and the source of his nightmares cracked open and spread out before the both of them. He deserved to be touched kindly, and gently. With warmth and love and care. Y/N knew it wasn’t her responsibility to pick up the broken pieces and tape them back together -- that would be too much work for any one person to do for another -- but she vowed right then to help him. In her mind, she promised to hand him bits of tape when he was sticking parts together or helping him reach his back. She’d support him in any way she could because she. . .she felt so deeply for him. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt this way for anyone before -- she knows she hasn’t, actually.

She drew him a bath and sat with him while he soaked in the tub, the both of them just wanting to be close. Needing to be close. He had offered for her to climb into the tub but she politely declined, “Let me take care of you for tonight,” she murmured, “I’ll take you up on that tomorrow though if the offer still stands.”

“The offer will always stand.”

Y/N shampoos his hair for him, massaging his scalp and soaping up the strands for no other reason than she knew it would feel good. They understand it without words, which is why Y/N simply sheds her clothes and digs through his drawers for a shirt to sleep in as he dries off. And it’s why she crawled into his bed beside him, immediately adhering to his side, their legs tangling and their arms wrapping around each other like if they even for a second thought about letting go, the other would float away.

Y/N pushes kisses all over his face, loving on him in every way that she could because she could and he accepted it happily. His smiles were soft and sweet and made her melt. She just wanted him to remember that he was with her, right now, in the present -- away from that. Away from the pain and the hurt. The look in his eyes when she paused and just stared at him for a little while said everything that she needed to know without words, but when he said it aloud, it felt even sweeter.

“You mean the world to me,” he hummed, the pads of his fingers smoothing over her temple, stroking down to caress her jaw, “I love you.”

Her heart swells full, and she bites down a grin that threatens to split her cheeks.

“I love you too.” She responded, lowering down so her face was pressed to his chest. He’s warm -- she lets her eyes flutter closed as she immerses herself in him. His essence and his being; she breathes him in greedily.

Harry is quiet for a moment, long enough that she thinks they may be going to bed for the night, but he chuckled suddenly.

“Weird,” he murmured, “Feels like we’ve said that before.”

[landinoandco]

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 

Distracting the stream from his slip up. 

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 

He had already started it...

[sunder-soul]

PROMPT 1: Hellooooooo! First off ur writing goes off, second off listen to this idea that i truly think u can bring to life... reader n tom r in a relationship and someone tried to slip tom to love potion but ofc he doesn't fall for it and his gf is like ??? and then they rub their relationship in her face LOL. anyways no worried just thought this would slap! Admire u n ur work!!

PROMPT 2: hey i love your the last of your rules series and everything else you’ve written. i’m not very creative so idk what exactly i’m looking for plot wise i just trust you since everything you’ve written is good but i was wondering if maybe you could write a tom x ravenclaw reader please. the ravenclaw reader tends to be more emotionally reserved and isn’t big on physical affection and maybe tom finds that interesting in a way? idk this idea might suck but felt like asking anyways...

Decided to combine these two because I could see them working really well together… :D

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Retribution

Summary: After somebody tries to slip Tom a love potion to break up him and Ravenclaw Reader’s relationship, they get a little bit theatrical in response...

Wordcount: 1.8k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Good morning,” says Tom evenly, lifting a wide-brimmed cup to his lips and taking an even sip as he looks at you.

“Is it?” you say dryly, sitting down opposite him at the Slytherin table and pulling out the new Magical Theory textbook. “Have you looked over this yet?”

“I have,” Tom replies with a very small smile. “Not to your liking?”

“Sophus writes like it’s still the seventeenth century,” you say with a shake of your head, “which isn’t surprising considering I don’t think he included a single reference from the last two hundred years… I mean honestly –” you wave at the title on the front of the book, “– ‘Corpus Magikus?’ Even the title makes it sound ancient.”

“Did you have any criticisms about the actual content per chance?” Tom asks as he lifts his tea again – though it doesn’t quite hide the amused smile on his lips. “Or did you not manage to get past the articulation?”

You give him a look. “The articulation is just as important as the content.”

“I completely disagree,” he replies easily, his cup clinking as he rests it back on its saucer, “regardless of how it is written, his points are extremely sophisticated.”

“I’m not talking about the quality of his points, I’m talking about how well he makes them accessible,” you say at once, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it lightly, “he can have the best criticisms of Magical Theory in the world and no one will care if they can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Tom arches a brow and leans forward on the table, resting on his forearms. “You’re placing the responsibility of understanding an argument on the person presenting it, and not the person receiving it,” he says fluidly, “personally when I find something difficult to understand, I take it as an indicator that I need to return to the topic after better preparing myself.”

“That works fine as an individualistic perspective,” you reply at once, leaning forward to match him, “but a book isn’t written for an individual, is it? It’s written for an audience. A book like this is measured by how wide an audience it can reach, meaning the responsibility is half on him to write accessibly, and half on the audience to go away and fill the holes in our own understanding. That’s when information is dispersed most effectively.”

“Your priority is the dispersion of information as a whole and not the expansion of your personal field of knowledge, and that is the crux of our differing opinion,” Tom says, sitting up straighter and tilting his head calmly.

“I am very aware,” you say dryly, “but you shouldn’t dismiss the importance of charisma when it comes to spreading information. After all, academics aren’t exactly known to be the most charismatic people most of the time, so you end up with intelligent, useful tomes that are utterly incomprehensible to most people –” you nod at the text again, “whilst compelling idiotic drivel is widely consumed.”

The Daily Prophet lands with a thump on your breakfast plate as the delivery owl swoops away with a mournful hoot, and you share a pointed, very wry look with Tom.

Tom breathes a little laugh and laces his fingers around his cup. “So you’re not looking forward to Magical Theory, then.”

“I am,” you amend, frowning, “I just hope the class follows more like Waffling’s work than this.”

“Of course you like Waffling,” Tom smirks, lifting his cup, “he effectively writes in verse –”

Tom suddenly freezes, his brow furrowing lightly. You raise a brow at his sudden reaction. “What?”

He looks down at his tea, still frowning.

“Tom?” you prompt, bemused.

“Someone has attempted to drug me,” he says in complete seriousness, looking up at you.

You stare back, bewildered. “Is… is this more Tom humour?” you ask after a moment, “you seriously need more practice at making jokes, Tom, you really are terrible at it –”

“I’m not joking,” Tom interrupts crisply.

Your scrutiny drops to the cup in his hand. “How can you tell?”

“My tea smells like you.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“My tea,” he repeats evenly, his dark eyes coming alight with a flicker of amusement as he leans closer, his cup still in one hand, “rather suddenly smells like you. I can only assume someone has managed to slip Amortentia into my cup sometime during this conversation.”

You blink at him. “Oh,” you say simply.

Tom’s lips curve into a more defined smirk at your expression.

“Well who’s trying to drug you then?” you ask quickly, looking away.

“An excellent question,” he says silkily, eyes still on you. “Their motive is hardly a mystery, so that should narrow it down.”

You roll your eyes and level him with a flat look. “Nothing could narrow it down less, Tom,” you drawl, “half the school is in love with you, and the other half is in denial about being in love with you.”

Tom arches a brow and looks very pleased with himself. “Should I drink it and we can find out?” he asks in amusement, lifting the cup.

You huff a laugh and take a bite of your toast. “Go on then, but don’t expect any sympathy from me when you’re pouring your heart out to some random stranger in front of the whole school a minute from now.”

His hand freezes with the rim of his cup an inch from his mouth, amusement faltering.

“That’s what I thought,” you smirk. “If you want to play it that way you’re going to have to be smarter than that.”

“Oh?” he asks, dark eyes narrowing. “And what would you suggest?”

“If someone drugged you during this conversation then they’re probably watching for your reaction,” you say casually around bites of your toast, “so just look out for someone who’s waiting for you to dramatically break up with me.”

“According to you, that would be the entire school,” Tom mutters, looking significantly more disgruntled than before.

A grin slowly builds on your face. “That was nearly a real joke, Tom,” you say ironically, “Merlin you’ve come so far…”

He shoots you a flat glare and you snicker. “Alright, sorry, I’ll stop – look, if I storm out of here looking upset and you act all conflicted and brooding for the rest of the day, whoever it was will probably try to come talk to you.”

“How theatrical,” Tom deadpans.

You shrug. “Do you want to know who drugged you or not?”

His eyes remain on yours for a moment, and then he lifts the tea to his lips. You watch him pretend to drink, your eyes lingering on the tea glistening on his lips as he lowers the cup.

“Don’t lick your lips,” you say quietly, not quite able to look away.

Tom’s other hand shifts slightly where it’s resting on the table between you, and the tea vanishes both from his lips and the cup. You give him another dry look. “Show off,” you accuse, smiling, “wandless and non-verbal, huh?”

“If you ask nicely, I’ll teach you how to do it,” he smirks.

You huff a laugh and slide Corpus Magikus back into your bag. “I should make my dramatic exit soon,” you say casually, finishing your toast and looking around the hall absently. “Perhaps we should have a fight first.”

“That would make it more convincing, yes,” he says delicately, still looking amused.

“What shall we fight about?"

Tom’s expression immediately cools and he leans in so close that you can see the patterns in his dark irises. “The content doesn’t matter,” he says smoothly, a glimmer in his eyes despite his utterly blank expression, “rather, the articulation.”

You hold his gaze for a second, fighting the urge to smile. You force yourself to stand suddenly, as if he’s said something of great offence. “I’ve never seen you so quickly converted to my opinion, Tom,” you say icily, leaning down to him over the table and hoping it looks like you’re angry.

“You made your argument very convincingly,” Tom says immediately, lifting his chin coolly.

“Actively demonstrating my point, I suppose,” you snap, standing straight. “I’m going to storm out now.”

“I’ll see you in class,” he says dismissively, pouring himself more tea.

You turn on your heel and leave, ignoring the curious eyes following you on your way out and not letting the smile break on your face until you’re well outside the Hall. Now all you have to do is wait.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Amelia Staghart,” Tom says in your ear before swiftly sitting down next to you in Potions that afternoon.

You raise a brow at him, watching as he arranges his Potions kit on the desk – Staghart is sitting a few desks behind you at that very moment and can most definitely see the both of you. “Are we no longer having a fight?”

“I grew tired of that pretence rather quickly,” Tom says curtly.

You smirk. “Did she talk to you?”

“Yes.” He looks decidedly irritated.

“A lot, huh.”

He shoots you a glare and you bite back another smile. “Are you going to report her then?” you ask, writing the date out on your parchment.

“No,” Tom says softly. You glance up curiously at his tone and find his dark eyes watching you write, before they flick up to yours. “I can think of a more pertinent retribution for her to endure,” he finishes quietly, not looking away.

“Retribution?” you echo, arching a brow with a slight smile. “And you accuse me of being theatrical.”

But Tom only leans closer and – to general astonishment – places a very gentle kiss on your cheek. His lips linger soft and warm on your skin for a moment as you’re frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly draws away an inch. His eyes roam your face as you blink in surprise, his lips curving into another humorous smile at your expression when there’s a sudden SMASH from behind you.

The entire class turns from where they’ve been staring wide-eyed at Tom’s display of affection to see Staghart’s inkwell knocked asunder on her desk, spreading black ink across the wood and dripping down to the floor, her eyes wide and her expression thunderstruck as she stares at you.

“Clean that up at once, Staghart!” Slughorn says disapprovingly as he strides into the room. “I certainly hope your clumsiness does not extend through today’s lesson – we’re brewing poisons today, class!”

Staghart goes red as the rest of the students titter and chatter, furiously glaring at the pool of ink dripping into her lap. 

You glance at Tom and share a silent look of amusement before the two of you simultaneously turn back to your notes, still smirking.

[jungshookz]

Imagine jimin dancing without shirt because it's to hot and the whole class sees him😳

no need to imagine baby i gotchu 

this was supposed to be super short but i said that to myself like two hours ago and it turned into,.,.., thIS..,,. so if balletteacher!jimin doesn’t win the poll at least the ballet!couple stans have,.,.,. WHATEVER THIS IS 

➺ pairing; balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n

➺ genre; i literally cannot focus because i keep staring at this gif so just assume this drabble is as hot as jimin i,.,.,. i am about to go into my jimin phase again,.,. 

➺ wordcount; i don’t know i am so out of it right now (1.7k) 

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

                                       »»————-　🔥　————-««

“sorry i couldn’t make it to brunch last week and... the week before that… but i can definitely join you guys this week!” you chirp, pausing for a second so you can quickly pull your hair into a flimsy low bun, “there’s this place that has these massive waffles and you can pour as much syrup on it as you want on them-” you take your duffle bag out before slamming your locker shut and turning around, “plus-”

you immediately stop talking when you realize that you’re all alone in the changing room

you blink twice before reaching up to scratch your head

what the heck

…how long have you been talking to yourself for??

there are still bags and shoes and loose articles of clothing sitting on benches and hanging out of lockers but it’s just that their owners have completely disappeared

“guys?” you frown, zipping your hoodie up as you step over items littering the ground to make your way to the door, “i know i’ve been really flaky with our dates and stuff but you don’t have to abandon me mid-conversation to prove a point-” you poke your head out of the changing room, holding your breath for a second to see if you can hear anything

“-is someone filming this or what??”

“shh!!”

“move over, let me look too-”

that’s odd

“guys…?” you lower your voice as you approach the girls cautiously, raising a brow at the sight of them crowding around the door of the classroom, “is there, like- some kind of hip-hop class or something-”

you can practically feel the vibrations of the bass pumping through the floorboards as you get closer and closer, the sound of muffled thumping leaking out through the crack in the door

“y/n!” lisa turns her head when she hears you, slipping out of the group with a giggle and gesturing for you to hurry and come over, “there you are, silly- i thought you followed us-”

“follow- well, class is over and we’re all changing out of our unitards so i didn’t know i had to follow you guys anywhere-” you snort, leaning over a little to look at the group of giddy girls again, “let me guess - those boys from that other dance academy came to use our rooms again-”

“guys, move out of the way so y/n can take a look-” lisa swats at jisoo’s back gently, the girls whispering to each other excitedly as they step aside to let you through

“no way!” seulgi chirps, popping her head up at the front of the group, “you snooze, you lose, y/l/n-”

“c’mon, seulgi, don’t be like that-” lisa tuts, shoving at your back to force you through the tightly packed group, “everyone should get a chance to see this-”

“see what?! what is going on-”

“fine, but i’m only giving you one minute-” seulgi wags a finger at you before stepping down from the ledge, wrapping her hand around your elbow and yanking you up, “sixty seconds.”

“can i just say that you guys get so weird whenever those boys come to-” your mouth immediately goes dry the second you turn your head and peer through the crack, all the blood in your body rushing up to congregate in your face, “oh, dear god-”

you were certainly right about all this commotion being caused because of men

except, in this case, it’s just because of one man

you watch in shock as a very shirtless jimin slams his arms down mid-air against the beat, twirling around in the spot with his head tilted back

he slides a hand down his chest until he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants, lifting a leg and thrusting his hips forward with a grunt

his tongue pokes out in between his lips before it curls upwards and you swallow dryly when you feel your stomach flutter

out of all the things you were expecting to see when you looked into the classroom, it definitely wasn’t this

you’ve never seen jimin dance outside of a classical setting so this is very… very…

wow

this is very wow

“god, i wanna fuck him.” seulgi sighs dreamily, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “i love men. don’t you love men?”  

“men- i-” you force yourself to snap out of your daze, letting out a nervous chuckle as you turn to look at seulgi, “this- to be honest, this feels like a private moment, you know? i-i feel like we should probably leave now before he catches us-”

“oh my god, you always get so weird around mr. park!” seulgi scoffs, rolling her eyes before pursing her lips, “you can appreciate his beauty without feeling bad, y/n. relax a little!”

you press your lips together as you take a second to think through her response

…

what are you even thinking about?

of course you know you can appreciate his beauty!

you have personally appreciated his beauty in private many, many times but of course no one knows that

but maybe if you quit acting so weird and twitchy, seulgi will finally give you a break and will stop giving you crap about how nervous you get around mr. park

for the record, the only reason why you get so sweaty and weird whenever the conversation shifts to how attractive mr. park is is because you’re scared you’ll accidentally let something slip one day and screw everything up

the other day lisa was wondering out loud if mr. park had a six-pack or an eight-pack and you were about to respond with a ‘it’s a six-pack but he’s getting to an eight-pack if i’m being honest-‘ but LUCKILY you stopped yourself before all of that word vomit spewed out of your mouth

obviously she got her answer today after spying on him dancing half-naked

“in fact, i think it’d be good for you to appreciate his beauty up close so you can finally join in on our conversations…” seulgi clears her throat, pushing herself up from the wall as she zeroes in on you 

“yeah, well, i think my sixty seconds is up, so maybe- oh!” you gasp when you feel two hands shove at your back and you don’t get a chance to even process the fact that you’re being pushed before-

the door ricochets against the wall with a smack! after you get pushed into the room, your palms slapping against the wooden floor immediately to keep yourself from knocking a tooth out

“y/n!” jimin snaps out of his intense concentration when he sees you stumble into the room behind him in the mirror, turning to look at you with wide eyes before hurrying over to the stereo to turn the music off, “are you alright??”

“fine! i-i’m fine- i’m good-” you sneakers squeak against the ground as you scramble to your feet, glancing back to glare at a very smug-looking seulgi  

why is she always getting you into these situations?!

…how do you always let her get you into these situations?!

“i’m so sorry for… i… um…” 

you know this isn’t the first time you’ve seen his skin glisten with sweat but something about the way the light is hitting jimin is making you feel a little lightheaded

the corner of jimin’s mouth curls into a knowing smirk when he notices the way your eyes lower from his face to his body, “i was… you see, i-”

“you were…” he coos mockingly, tilting his head as he makes his way back over to you, “you were what, bab-”

“the girls!” you interrupt frantically, stepping aside to gesture towards the large group of girls still crowded by the door, “the- the girls wanted me to- uh, they wanted me to ask you a question so i- that’s why i’m in here.”

jimin’s face pales slightly when he notices the girls standing by the door

oh

whoops

“oh, of course!” he clears his throat loudly before taking a step back from you, the two of you exchanging panicked glances before he bends down to pick his shirt up, “what was the question?” he slides his shirt back on

“there’s no question, sir-” seulgi chimes in before pausing for a second, “however, as the obvious group leader here, i’d like to say on behalf of everyone that you are very welcome to demonstrate this dance in class if you’d like-”

the girls immediately burst into laughter and jimin snorts before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck bashfully

“very funny, ladies-” jimin shakes his head before gesturing for everyone to go, “go and get out of here! i’ll see all of you next week-”

“have a good weekend, mr. park!”

“goodbye, mr. park!”

“bye, mr. park!!”

you wait until you hear everyone’s voices drift further and further away before scurrying over to the door and peering around it to make sure no one’s around

“coast is clear.” you let out a breath of relief to see that the hallway is empty before turning around to- “oh!” you jump when you end up bumping right into jimin, stumbling back a little before reaching out to press your hand flat against his chest so you can shove him back into the room, “what is the matter with you?? you already know all the people here drool over you on a daily basis and you still go around half-naked and- and thrust your hips like that-”

“what, you didn’t like it?” jimin teases, wrapping his fingers around your wrist so he can pull your hand down and slide it underneath his shirt

“hey-” you feel your entire face flush the moment your hand comes into contact with the ridges of his firm abdomen and you slip your hand out quickly, jimin laughing at your reaction before reaching up to pinch your cheek

“all i’m saying is that you weren’t exactly against my thrusting last night, miss y/l/n-”

“jimin!”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits just like this one!)

[ladydaemon]

HOME IS THE TWO OF US

jesper fahey x female! reader

A/N: this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge - i chose to combine 'you and i' by queen and 'two of us' by the beatles. and yeah this is more than two weeks later than when i said i would post this what about it

Summary: jesper and y/n have a wonderful night on ghezen's day

Warnings: swearing, i think that's it? its literally just pure indulgent fluff

"You do realize someone probably worked very hard to earn kruge like this, right?" Y/N L/N grinned, holding up a thick wad of money they had stolen from someone's pockets. She was seemingly unperturbed by the fact, her tone light and teasing as she bumped playfully into Jesper.

"And we, my dear, are working very hard on spending it," Jesper winked, wrapping one of his long arms around her shoulders. He snatched the kruge from her hand, immediately spending a portion of it on the first thing he laid eyes on, which was a ridiculously bright orange hat that burned Y/N’s eyes just looking at.

Jesper plopped it on her head, adjusting it so it was crooked, laughing.

Y/N would have done anything to hear that laugh.

The streets were loud and boisterous and carefree, and for the first time in a very long while, the two of them felt the same way. For today, at least, there were no chores or errands or jobs to do.

It was Ghezen's Day - the holiday that signified the starting of spring, where everything was sunny and bright. It was the one day where even the lowest of the Barrel thugs were out enjoying this tiny sliver of happiness, where there was only whistling vendors and cheery parades and star-gazing at night.

But for Y/N and Jesper, it was something more. It was a day where they weren't con artists or thieves or sharpshooters. They weren't thugs or gamblers or criminals.

They were teenagers.

Kaz, of course, pretended like he didn't care. He rolled his eyes and told them that were just trying to get away from chores they despised or any actual work. But everyone knew, even if they didn't admit it, that today was a day where they could pretend.

Pretend to be normal, pretend to be regular, pretend that they had loving families and good homes. Pretend that the weight of being hated and criminalized and addicted didn't make their shoulders slump and their heads hang. Pretend that they didn't muffle their sobs behind closed doors or shake in bed as they tried to rid their minds of all the horrible, treacherous, necessary things they had done.

Pretend that they were just a pair of inseparable best friends having a good holiday.

"C'mon, we need to find a good spot to see the sky," Jesper needled, taking Y/N by the arm and dragging her toward a carriage, elbowing a small, old lady out of the way and almost running them over a few small children on the way.

On Ghezen's Day, an hour after the sun set, the city mandated that all lights be shut off - the sky was clearer than it ever was in the hours that followed, and nearly everyone over the age of twelve stayed up until dawn, watching the sky. However, there was still pollution in the city, remainders of the gas and oil and muck churned up from the sea and the homes of the wealthy, and many preferred to ride to the outskirts of town, if not all the way into the country, where the sky was more visible.

Those towns that bordered between rural and urban, which never saw much tourism or profit, were the most popular places to be, full of tents for dancing outside and vendors selling foreign delicacies and musicians standing in the streets.

And as such, it was almost impossible to get a carriage out of the city without deploying either bony knees, steel-capped boots, or vicious elbows.

And that was exactly what was happening as people shoved and hassled people out of the way, even occasionally pulling out thick wads of kruge, trying to bribe other people in getting out of the limited selection of carriages going out of the city.

"The woman with the black shawl," Y/N whispered (though she needn't have bothered - the city was loud enough to mask any noise), leaning in and brushing her lips against Jesper's ear so he could hear her.

She could’ve sworn she felt him shudder.

"Ten minutes. No less."

"Twenty kruge.”

"Done."

Y/N grinned, slipping out of Jesper's hold and sauntering over to the woman in question, a pretty red-head. The woman was obviously rich (Y/N took a moment to appreciate the elegant dark blue dress she was wearing, paired with pretty gold earring and a matching necklace) and was about to step into a black carriage - one that Y/N was about to charm her out of.

"Hey there, miss," Y/N called out, putting on the face of an entitled, flirtatious mercher. "You wouldn't mind sharing the carriage, would you? I can’t seem to find an available one, and I’d rather share one with a beautiful lady such as yourself instead of some of those Barrel barbarians.”

The woman stopped halfway into her seat, looking back at Y/N.

If Y/N hadn’t been wearing the obviously expensive clothes she was, with the even more expensive diamond necklace around her throat (that Jesper had given her last Ghezen’s Day, as a present), the woman would have simply shut the carriage door in Y/N’s face.

Then there was the fact that she was gorgeous, and nobody in their right mind would refuse a two hour carriage ride alone with her.

That was Jesper’s opinion, at least.

“I could say the same about you,” the mercher grinned, opening the door wider.

Y/N smiled back, stepping into the carriage and placing her hand delicately on the other woman’s arm-

And swiftly shoved her into the streets, slamming the door behind her. Jesper climbed in from the other side, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Cruel.”

“Please, I slipped fifty kruge in her sleeve, she’ll be fine.”

“Ah. In that case, proceed. I don’t like anyone flirting with my Y/N, anyway.”

Y/N smirked at him, handing the driver a wad of kruge and telling him to step on it.

“Criminals,” he muttered, snapping the reins.

~

"Heels down, Y/N, love," Jesper shouted, grinning.

Y/N, switching the reins to one hand, flipped him off, scowling, but adjusted her feet in the stirrups anyways, forcing her heels downward and huffing when her calves ached. “I hate you.”

“We both know you love me,” Jesper shouted back, easing back into a trot - Y/N did the same, easing her weight further into the balls of her feet and gripping the saddle tighter between her knees. Beside her, Jesper had already done the same, posting in time with his horse’s gait.

“Where are we going again?” Y/N asked, panting as she slowed her horse down to a full stop.

“Absolutely nowhere.”

“Do we’re going nowhere, and basically getting nowhere and you want me to be happy about all this work?”

“Yes? You’re being blessed with my presence.” Mock indignation filled the words and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Jesper huffed, “let’s go back home.”

But home wasn’t always a place, was it?

~

”Come on, I’m hungry,” Y/N whined, pulling Jesper’s wrist with her as she power-walked through the crowded, small town in search of some sweets.

”Ooh, cinnamon honey cakes,” Jesper said dryly, almost smacking into Y/N when she came to a full, screeching halt.

”Don’t you dare joke about honey cakes,” she hissed, poking him in the chest.

”I wasn’t,“ Jesper chuckle, nodding toward the vendor selling the sweets in question.

Y/N gasped audibly, dragging him along with her as she practically sprinted for the cart.

”After this, we’re going straight to the pond. We don’t want anyone to steal our spot.”

~

Y/N flopped down on her bed, staring at her wall of paper in boredom.

Each scrap of parchment, every napkin with hastily scribbled writing in the back, was a letter from Jesper.

Every week, no matter where Jesper was at the moment, he would write her a letter - describe where he was in detail, and then every thought that came to mind. It was a strange tradition (that nobody remembered how it came about) that Nina liked to tease them about.

You two have separation anxiety, she would giggle. Like an overprotective mother and her baby.

Two best friends, actually, Y/N would respond, stuffing her face with waffles.

Um, no. Would ‘best friends’ write, and I quote, “I’ll be home soon” on every letter they write?

Yes, they would, Y/N would sigh, snatching whichever letter Nina had gotten ahold of that time, and stare at the phrase in question.

Because home wasn’t a place.

~

“Stop doing that,” Jesper whined, plucking the lit match from Y/N’s fingers and tossing it into the pond.

She huffed, sticking out her tongue and lighting another one, waiting until it had burned down to her fingers before flinging it into the lake. “It’s a habit, Jes.”

They could’ve been there bickering playfully, enjoying each other’s company in silence for three days or three hours or a mere three minutes. Time didn’t exist, didn’t matter when they were alone together.

Laughter rang through the darkness, lanterns only bobbing pinpricks of light behind them - drunk giggles and cheerful music echoed back to them, but it didn’t really register to either of the two.

Moonlight bathed the two of them in a white glow as they both stood up as the stars gradually came out, twinkling, tiny lights covering the marbled, dusky blue-purple-black night sky, exposing nebulae and swirls and whorls of colors.

~

“Y/N, love, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

“I don’t care in the slightest.”

Jesper sighed, a grudging smile overtaking his face as he watched Y/N. She was soaked to the bone, hair and clothes sticking to her skin, nose ruddy from the cold.

“Dance with me,” she pleaded, holding out a hand to him.

She looked beautiful.

Jesper finally relented, picking Y/N up and twirling her around. She squeaked, closing her eyes, gripping onto his arms for dear life as the rain came down in silver sheets around them.

When he set her back down, the world seemed to stop spinning, the carriages stopped moving, it was just him and her and the rain.

“Let’s go home,” Y/N said eventually, quiet and peaceful, smiling up at Jesper.

But they were already home.

~

She turned to Jesper, about to remark on how pretty the whole thing was, but stopped in her tracks. He was staring at her, a small, happy smile on his face, an unreadable emotion in his silver eyes.

“Wha-“

He closed the three feet of space between them, grabbing her face between his hands, gently, like she was as precious as the diamonds around her neck. Not like she was breakable - like she was valuable, and he never wanted to lose her.

He gave her time to pull away, to laugh and make a joke, but she only stared back at him, the quizzical expression gone, on its place one of fear and hope and happiness.

And then his mouth was on hers and her hands were messing up his hair and she couldn’t feel the grass on her feet anymore or the wind on her neck or her heart, jittering in her chest like it wanted to burst out and fly into the night, only him, him, him.

And then he pulled away and kissed her nose, her eyelids, her forehead. He was laughing, hands going to her waist to twirl her around and around and then she was laughing too, too many emotions to count bubbling up in her chest. Elation, hope, almost hysterical happiness, and-

Absolute certainty.

That was the feeling, that was the one thought filling her head - that there weren’t any questions anymore, because this was where she was supposed to be, this is what she was supposed to be doing, and for once, she was letting herself.

For once, she wasn’t thinking about the next day or the next job or the next week.

It was just the two of them.

Because she could never predict where life was going to lead her next, or foresee the future years, or know what horrible thing was going to happen to her next. Hell, she didn’t know what was going to happen in the next couple hours, let alone what type of sandwich she was going to eat tomorrow.

But she knew, with absolute and utter certainty, that she wanted to do it with him.

That whatever happened, she would be alright, because home wasn’t a place - and it wasn’t Jesper, either.

It was the two of them, together.

~

Music floated gently in the darkness, down to were Y/N and Jesper were laying in the grass. Her head was on his chest, and they were both staring at the stars.

Home is the two of us.

[sunmoonandeddie]

who you are and who you’ve been

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,490

summary: Sometimes love takes a little longer to find you.

warnings: SMUT.  Mention of past abusive relationship, drinking, swearing.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @zeilenkrieg for commissioning this and being so patient while I wrote it!!

“Mama!  Mama!  You here?”

You sighed as you looked up from your coffee, seeing your daughter coming through the living room.  She had on that pair of daisy dukes that she stole from your wardrobe—the ones you used to wear in the heat of summer, a white shirt tied to let the sun on your tummy.  You used to scandalize your own mama with that outfit… 

You had argued with her that she had worn the same kind of outfit back in the seventies, and that vintage was in.  But she liked to wear hers with cowboy boots and you preferred it with a good pair of sneakers.

God, you missed being young…  Your twenties had been absolutely wild, even if they had started out with that horrible pandemic in 2020.

You still washed your hands after touching almost anything.  An instinct that never went away.

That year and the couple years before had been… insane.  But at least it incited real change in the world.  The people had learned from their mistakes, at least for now.

History did have a habit of repeating itself.  Humans were fickle, forgetful creatures like that.

“Yes, honey bun?” You said as you stood up, moving to hug her.

At thirty-seven years old, she was the only good thing that ever came out of your marriage.  That, and knowing how to wash blood out of clothing.

The only problem was that by the time you’d finally left him, you had no friends left.  You were in your forties by then, with no family besides your daughter, and no friends left to speak of.  You hadn’t even had Facebook at the time to keep in touch with old schoolmates from university.  And by then, what was the point?  They were all leading completely different lives and probably hadn’t spared you a thought in at least a decade.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” She asked, her hands on her hips in a stance that reminded you so much of yourself that it scared you.

Now that… that was hard to answer…  You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to remember.  You got practically everything delivered, you worked from home… 

Shaking your thoughts away, you shot her a look.  “I’m fine right where I am.”

“Your doctor called and said you haven’t been taking your medication.”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the window, staring down at the now cold coffee.

Josephine rolled her eyes.  “He said you haven’t picked up your refill in over two months.”  She came over to stand next to you, staring out the window with you for a long time.  “Mama, you’ve gotta take your medicine…  You remember what happened last time…”

Ah, yes, the infamous incident.

Which was an incident in a long line of incidents.

There had been a… few times when you’d stopped taking your medication—either intentionally or simply because you had forgotten—and it had resulted in a stay in the psych ward at the local hospital.  It had happened far too many times for your daughter to not be in contact with your doctor so she would be informed if you had stopped getting your refills.

You didn’t blame her, of course.  But it did make you feel like a horrible mother.  One who couldn’t even take care of herself to the point where your daughter had to.

“Yes, I remember last time,” you sighed, staring at a cardinal.  “You know, my mama used to tell me that if you see a cardinal, a loved one who’s passed is visiting you…”

“Mama, I signed you up for a seniors’ social club.”

You blinked.

And then, you blinked again.

You turned to look at your daughter, disbelief written all over your face.  “No the fuck you did not.  I swear to all that is holy, Josephine Ann, if you signed me up for one of those… those… pre-death support groups, I’ll tan your hide!”  You gasped as some of your coffee splashed onto your sweatshirt.  “I brought you into this world, and I sure as hell can take you out of it!”

“You’ve been saying that since I was two,” She said, taking your arm and guiding you to sit down at the kitchen table.  “And it’s not a pre-death support group.  I feel like that’s offensive somewhere so make sure you don’t go running around the group saying that.”  Josephine used a paper napkin to dab at the coffee on your sweatshirt, muttering about throwing it into the wash and getting you a new one.

This was what you meant by your daughter taking care of you.

“Josie, really, I can get my own sweatshirt.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta,” she said as she came back with a new one, helping you change.

Sometimes you felt like she thought you were a hundred years old.

“Honestly, mama…  I just want you to be happy…  You should have friends.  You shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all day, all the time.”

“What do I need friends for when I’ve got you?  And Danny?” You asked.

But you had been hit with the sudden reality that except for Josephine and her girlfriend, you were alone.  Completely, and utterly, alone.  Hell, they were the only people you had ever invited over to the tiny one bedroom you owned.

Repairmen didn’t count because they were there to do a job, not keep you company.

God, you had wanted more than this, once upon a time.  You had once had dreams, of maybe being a writer and making the New York Times’ Bestsellers List, of a husband who adored you and brought you flowers every Friday, of lazy Sundays eating waffles on the couch with the love of your life.

But life didn’t end up the way you had dreamed it.  There were no book signings or meetings with editors… there were no gardenias… and there was no smell of waffles and syrup.

And you’d made your peace with that.

Sort of.

Josephine’s arms wrapped around you as she rested her head against yours.  Like a mirror of yourself, she was, from her face down to her toes.

Thank god.  She didn’t deserve to have to look in the mirror and see reflections of her father.

“Will you at least try it?” She asked gently, her hand running up and down your arm, her freshly manicured nails tickling your skin.  “It’s not like a pre-death support group, as you call it…  It’s for seniors or people who are approaching seniority and are still active and want to go out and have fun, but maybe need some friends to do it with.  Please?”

And how could you say no when she wanted something so badly?

“Alright,” you said after a moment.  “I’ll go once.  And if it’s horrible, I’m not going back.  And I’m gonna tell Danny how you forced me to meet a bunch of strangers.”

She squealed excitedly, running off to your bedroom and going through your closet.  “Okay, the first thing the group is doing is having a first meeting at a bar, and we’re gonna get you all done up.”

Oh, good.  She was going all in.

“When’s the first meeting?” You asked as you sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched her.

“Tonight.”

Uh.  What?

“TONIGHT?!” You shouted in shock as you jumped up.  “What?!  You didn’t think to ask me about this a few days ago?!”

She snorted, picking out a few tops that you hadn’t worn in what felt like decades.  “I signed you up this morning, I didn’t know about it a few days ago.”

You watched in exasperation as she threw article after article of clothing onto the bed for you to try on.  “I don’t think I need to wear four pairs of jeans to a bar,” you said, beginning to pick up a few of the pieces.

Josephine gave you a look as she continued.  “Considering how long it’s been since you’ve been out, I think it’s fair that some of these might not fit anymore.”

Well, you had lost some weight…  Not necessarily in a healthy way, but she was right.

In the end, she ended up shoving you into the bathroom and forced you to do a full shower—which meant body and hair.

You hadn’t even gone to such lengths when you were going on your first date with her father.

She spent hours on your hair and makeup, chattering away excitedly about the vacation her and Danny were planning.  A South American cruise.

Josephine had never married, never had kids.  Never wanted to after seeing what her daddy had put you through.  It left a sour taste in her mouth, and even though it was legal now, her and her girlfriend hadn’t breathed a word of a wedding.

Though, you suppose they had a common law marriage at that point, if lesbians were included in it.

“Perfect,” she said as she got you to slip on an old jacket of yours that was a little too big.  “Come on.  I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh, honestly,” you snorted as you grabbed the purse Josephine had shoved all your things into.  “You’d think I could take an Uber.”

The bar wasn’t what you had expected when she had first told you that’s where the meeting was going to be held.  The last bars you’d been to had practically been nightclubs.

But this was… upscale.  Sophisticated.

Now you understood just why she had put so much work into making you look presentable.

It didn’t look like anyone else was there yet, even though most of the patrons were around your age, so you took a seat at the bar, the group’s site pulled up on your phone.

“What can I get for you, miss?” The bartender asked as he set down a coaster in front of you.

A snort erupts from your throat as you look at him.  “You always call women as old as me miss?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a catch,” he said, shooting you a playful wink.  “My dad’s single, you know.  If you were… looking.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” you said gently, your cheeks flushed.  “Can I get a Manhattan?”

The bartender nodded, gracefully backing off the subject of you possibly dating his father.  And barely a minute and a half later, there’s a perfectly made Manhattan set on your coaster.

You’d barely taken a sip before someone came up beside you.  “Do you have Macallan’s 18 Year Sherry Oak?” A man asked.  At the bartenders confirmation, he hummed.  “Can I get a double on the rocks?”

The bartender dropped a large ball of ice into a glass before pouring two shots of whiskey over it and handing it to the man.

“Macallan’s, huh?” You said softly, your heart pounding.  Josephine had told you to make friends.  That was the whole point of this, even if the man wasn’t part of the social club you’d been forced into.  “You know your whiskeys.”

The tall man took a seat beside you, his eyes boring into the side of your face.  You hadn’t dared look at him yet.  “I’ve always preferred those who choose a Manhattan over a martini any day.”

“And why is that?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

And oh, you wished you hadn’t.  He was… stunning.  The very definition of male beauty.  His salt and pepper hair reminded you of the photos of the men in the forties…  The 1940s, that is.  Blue eyes so striking that you lost your breath, and broad shoulders that you knew would haunt your dreams.  He was wearing a glove on his left hand for some reason, but you didn’t linger on it too long.

But at least he was at least your age, if not a little older.  You’d die if you’d just sort of flirted with a twenty-something asshole who just bought expensive whiskeys for the sake of buying expensive whiskeys to show that he had money to blow.

“Martini drinkers think they’ll get some kind of award for their choice of drink,” he said, “as though choosing a drink that generally tastes like shit is some kind of accomplishment.  Unless you’re just taking a shot, a drink should taste good.”  He looked you up and down, letting his pretty blues linger on your lips.  There were faint crow feet at the corners of his eyes, but they just seemed to make him even more handsome.  “And a Manhattan doesn’t need a fancy whiskey.  It is steady and sure even with the cheapest five dollar bottle you can get from a gas station.  Someone whose drink of choice is a Manhattan is sure of who they are and what they want.”

You hadn’t felt this hot under a man’s gaze in decades.  “Really?”  Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you took another sip of your drink to buy you a moment.

“Mmm…”  He stole one of the two cherries from your drink, biting it off the stem.  You were transfixed as he slipped the stem into his mouth, sticking his tongue out about thirty seconds later with a perfect cherry stem knot on display.  “Really.  I’m James.  What’s your name?”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you gave him your name.  God, you felt like you were sixteen again and being flirted with for the first time.

His eyes flicked down to your open phone that rested on the bar, the social club’s page still up.  “You’re here for the meeting, too?”

“Um…  Yes,” you said, ducking your head.

“But, doll…”  He leaned towards you, a charming smile on his lips.  “You don’t look a day over thirty-five.  Are you sure you’re a senior?”

Blinking, your mouth hung open in a soft o.  “Are you planning on flirting with every woman in the club like this?”

James looked around dramatically, his gloved hand resting over his heart.  “A club?!  Is that what you call this place?” He asked, mockingly serious.  “Damn, what does that make all those dirty, gross places these young kids go to now?  Brothels?”

For some reason, you felt comfortable enough to shove his shoulder, surprised a little at the feeling of metal under his jacket sleeve.

For the first time, he looked a bit… uncomfortable.  He had flinched a bit, his bright eyes focused surely on his drink.  “Um…”

“You’re the Winter Soldier.  James Barnes,” you said curiously, your head tilting to the side as you looked at him.  “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm,” you drawled, taking the cherry left in your drink and biting it off in a way that you hoped was alluring.  “Though, I gotta say, it is a bit awkward to meet the man I wrote two papers about in high school.”

Shit, his laugh was beautiful.  Everything about him was beautiful.  Like Apollo or something...

James’s head was thrown back in laughter.  His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut.  “Did you actually write two papers about me?” He asked as he tried to catch his breath.  At your nod, he smirked, leaning in close again.  “What did you write about?  How devilishly handsome I am?”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this.  “I mean, I can show you the papers and actually let you read them, but they’re at my place.”

Before he could pick his jaw up off the ground, there were other seniors in the group coming up to greet you.  Your throat was dry as the Sahara as you turned to face them, plastering on a smile as you tried to ignore the heated gaze on your face and the way he licked his lips.

The meeting was… long.  Boring.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when you had James’s dark, sultry eyes on you the entire goddamn time.

Mind fuzzy, you vaguely remembered agreeing to come to the next meeting, and even signing up for a hiking trip they were taking the next weekend.

As you headed outside, you felt Bucky’s hand slip into yours, his long, calloused fingers intertwining with yours.  “So…  Am I gonna get to come over and… read those papers?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

God, you could practically feel yourself bursting into flames.  You weren’t gonna survive.

Thank god your daughter had forced you into a full shower.

But what about how dirty your house was sure to be?

“Um…  Y-Yeah,” you said as you turned to look at him.  “But, my daughter is gonna be driving me home…  I don’t want her to know I’ve got someone coming over.  She’s nosey.  Real…  Real nosey.”

“Of course, darlin,’” he chuckled.  “Here, why don’t I give you my phone number, and you shoot me a text with your address when you’re ready for me to come over?”

Your head was swirling as you got into your daughter’s car, your phone burning a hole in your purse.

“How was it?” Josephine asked nervously once you got about halfway home.  She couldn’t tell from the look on your face.  “Did you like it?”

“Hm?  Yeah.”  Swallowing, you shot a text to James with your name, telling him you’d text him when it was all clear.

“Are you gonna go again?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed both dissatisfied and pleased by your vague answers.  At least you were getting out of the house.

Once you got home and said goodbye, it was a mad dash to ensure that your house was clean as could be.  Josie had put in some work while you’d been gone, it seemed.  She’d done the dishes and the laundry, as well as dusted.

Thank fuck.

You struggled for a solid twenty minutes to put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed, lighting two candles and placing them in a manner that you hoped seemed natural.

“Shit,” you cursed as you smelled under your arms.

Okay, quick body shower.  It seemed all that flirting had made you a tiny bit sweaty.

You turned the water to scalding and scrubbed your body down, exfoliating and using your best scented body wash.

And to be quite frank, you’d never shaved your lady bits as quick as that.

As you texted him your address and that it was safe to come over, you pulled on your clothing from the bar (though, you did put on nicer, matching lingerie underneath.)  By the time he’d gotten there, you’d downed two shots of tequila for a bit of liquid courage and had poured yourself a glass of wine.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said, a crooked grin on his face as you welcomed him inside.  His glove had been abandoned, and black metal fingers lined with gold glittered in the light.  “Woah…  You know, I wasn’t sure how your place was gonna look, but this is very… you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you offered him a glass of wine, which he gratefully took.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled as he swirled the deep red liquid in its glass.  “It’s cozy.  Sweet.”

Your throat was dry as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he took a drink.  “Um… so those papers…”

Bucky whispered your name, moving closer to you as he set the wine glass down on the counter.  “Baby girl, I’m not really here for the papers, am I?” He asked as your back hit the island.  “If I am…  If I am, then just tell me, and I’ll stop this.”  His slightly chapped lips ghosted against yours like the tease he was.  “Am I here just for the papers?”

“No,” you breathed out, before pressing your lips against his in a firm kiss at last.  His breath was minty and cool, with just a touch of the wine you’d been sharing, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming over just like you had.

Could it be possible he was just as nervous as you were?

But he was perfect?  Why the hell would he be nervous?

Your thoughts were cut short as he reached down, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he lifted you up and set you on the counter.  “That’s a good girl,” he growled as he kissed down your neck, his hands working at your blouse.  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you during that whole stupid fucking meeting.  Just wanted to kiss you.  Just wanted to… to touch you.”  He pulled back, kissing you fiercely as his hands moved from your blouse to hold your face again.  “You gonna let me touch you, angel?”

A whine escaped your throat as you nodded, desperately yanking at his shirt.  Once it was off, you didn’t hesitate to run your hands over the broad planes of his chest.  He wasn’t quite as toned as you remembered from when you were younger, when you used to (occasionally) stalk (lightly) his social media accounts.  There’d been so many pictures of him on vacation with the other Avengers… all tanned and toned…

But you liked this better.  There was a softness to him now, a gentleness.

You were so distracted by his physique that you didn’t notice he’d gotten your shirt and bra off until the cold air hit your chest.  “Fuck,” you mumbled as his lips found your neck, trailing down to your breasts.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed, let alone the last time you’d had such… attention.

Especially when his hands worked your pants off and he stood between your legs, moaning as his fingers tickled your thighs.  “You’re so beautiful,” he said as his lips wrapped around one nipple, suckling at it and teasing until it was diamond hard, and he moved on to the other.

Gotta be fair, after all.

“James…”

“Fuck, baby girl…  Never been with a woman as beautiful as you,” he growled, kissing down your tummy.  “You’re not making it out of here without orgasming at least twice,” he warned jokingly.  He was half bent over in front of the island, watching in wonder as he slowly pulled your silk panties down your legs and revealed your aching core to him.

“I-If you’re not comfortable standing like that, w-we can move somewhere else,” you stammered, suddenly growing self conscious.  What if he thought your pussy was weird?  Granted, you’d overcome thinking that when you were in your early twenties, after learning that each one looked different.

But he was born in the forties.

But that meant he’d probably seen an exponential amount of pussies!

Oh, god, there was no way you’d have anywhere near as much experience as him.  The only person you’d ever been with was your ex husband, and he wasn’t exactly the paradigm of lovers.

“Hey.”

You refocused with a shake of your head, your eyes meeting James’s.  “Yes?”

“You’re in your head,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly ran his fingers along your sensitive folds.  “There’s no need…  It’s just you and me, okay?  And you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your heart was melting inside your chest as you nodded, stealing a tentative kiss.  “Okay…  Just you and me.”

James nipped at your lower lip as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.  “Come on.  I don’t want our first time to be on a kitchen counter.  Though I make no promises I won’t help christen every inch of this house after,” he said with a playful growl.

You whispered directions to your bedroom as he held you tight to his chest, his lips finding purchase on your neck.  “And here I thought you said the super soldier serum was wearing off,” you joked.

The man snorted as he pushed you up against the hallway wall.  “Trust me, doll, no lack of super soldier serum is gonna stop me from fucking you right,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, two thick fingers were slipping inside of you to slowly tease your cunt, his lips ghosting over yours.  “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at the whimper that fell from your lips.  “Y-Yes.  Yes.  Please, I need more, James…”

James smiled into the kisses he’d been giving you.  “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“That’s a tall order.”  You threaded your fingers through his hair, shivering at the way his metal fingers dug into the plumpness of your ass.  “You sure you can fill it?”

He doesn’t respond with words, growling as he kisses you fiercely, carrying you to the bedroom.  You don’t have time to think before he’s crawling over you and kissing up your tummy to your lips.  “I need to be inside you,” He whispered as he stroked his length.

“Please…  Don’t wanna wait anymore,” you said.  Vaguely, you’re aware of the twinge in your knees from all the physical activity, and you knew you’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Fucking worth it, though.

James didn’t hesitate to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.  When he finally pushed in, unison moans fill the air.

“I…  I haven’t done this in… so long,” you finally admitted as he slowly pushed in more, taking his time.  Eyes locked, your mouth fell open in a soft ‘o’ as he bottomed out, his hips meeting yours.  “Oh, fuck…”

“Then I better do a real good job fucking you right.”

You weren’t quite sure how long you two lasted, but you do know he manages to pull three orgasms out of you in the space of just a few hours.  There’s snack and water breaks in between rounds, his cool metal hand running up and down your spine to cool you down as you two whisper in the dim light of your desk lamp.

You can’t remember a time that you’d felt so at peace.

A spark had been lit inside your chest as you two laid there in bed, legs intertwined.  Both of you were quiet, his fingers moving to caress your cheek.

There were no words that needed to be said.

His sea blue eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and your hand runs over the sharp stubble that lines his jaw.  It had certainly marked up your neck.

“I had intended on asking you on a date,” he said quietly as his hand found yours, bringing it to his mouth.  Chapped lips kissed each of your knuckles like you were something precious, something to behold.  “I didn’t think the five minutes or so before the meeting counted…  But I’d still like to take you on that date, if you’ll let me.”

“That sounds nice,” you said, a grin twinging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up a bit as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

“Yeah.”  A giggle escaped your lips as he playfully tackled you, starting yet another round as his hips rolled down against yours.

The next morning, you woke up alone.  The sheets beside you were mussed, though the space James had been occupying was still a bit warm.

Jazz music floated down the hall, through the cracked door, and you could vaguely hear the clinking of pans.

It took you a minute to gather the will to get yourself out of bed and find your robe, but you finally did it.  As your feet hit the ground and you pushed yourself to a stand, you winced.

You had been right about feeling it in your knees.

You forced yourself to walk smoothly down the hall, despite how much it hurt.  Embarrassing yourself in front of James was the last fucking thing you wanted to do.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove and humming along with the old jazz song playing on the Bluetooth speaker.  He had a pan full of pancake batter in front of him, a whole stack he’d already made on the side.

Standing in the doorway, you couldn’t help but grin as you watched him.  He’s so handsome… and he seemed so at home in your kitchen.  In your home.

Maybe he’d like to move in…

You shook your head, knowing that it’s already too much.

But the thought was nice.

Him in his pajamas, making coffee…  Him in your shower…  Him in your bed every night…  

Yeah.  It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Hi.”

James jumped, his eyes wide as he whirled round to face you.  “Hi.  I thought I had another thirty minutes before I had to go and wake you up,” he said.  “I’m making pancakes.  For you.  For us.”  His cheeks flushed, turning a bright red as he turned back to the pan to quickly flip the pancake.  “I hope you don’t mind that I used your flour and shit…”

“Oh, no, I…  I almost never cook,” you admitted as you moved over to stand next to him, watching as he made two more pancakes.

As he carried the huge plate to the kitchen island, he teasingly grabbed your ass and squeezed.  “Maybe I’ll have to stay the night more often, if only so you get a homemade breakfast.”

It was sweet, and domestic, and somewhat terrifying.

You hadn’t had a man do anything for you like this since you were in your twenties, when your husband was still sweet and loving.

But even so, this was somehow better than anytime your husband made his famous burritos.

Maybe because James’s cooking actually tasted good.

Your first date was to a movie, a drive in.  Something that’s designed to be vintage but really just looked cheesy as all hell.

But it’s perfect.  Perfect and cheesy and romantic.

Your only complaint was that he didn’t kiss you at the door when he dropped you off.  He pressed his lips to your cheek and whispered a goodnight, and that was it.

It took two more dates within the same week for him to kiss you again.

Bright and early on the next Saturday morning, he knocked on your door, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I figured I should make up for you having to be up so early with this,” he said as he came inside, kissing you quick before moving to put the flowers in a vase.

At this point, he knew your house almost as well as you did.  It felt good, when you two moved around like you were part of a team.

“Have you gotten your coffee this morning?” You asked, already pouring two travel mugs full of the good stuff.

He came up behind you, kissing your shoulder.  “I have, but you know I’ll never say no to more, doll.”

The rest of the group eyed you curiously as you got out of the same car, a few elbow nudges and whispers in the air.

“At least I know no old ass dickheads are gonna come hit on my girlfriend,” James growled in your ear, his calloused flesh hand squeezing your hip.

“Jamie…,” you whined, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  No one had ever claimed you in such a way that made you feel so desired and… and worthy.

James made you feel worthy.

Which is something you’d only ever really gotten from your daughter.

It sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you were tempted to drag him back to the car so you could bring him right back home and do something about it.

Also…  Girlfriend?  Were you his girlfriend now?  Officially?

That just made you wanna find somewhere to fuck him even more.

But alas, you pushed the thought away as the lot of you boarded one of those white airport vans that took you out of the city to the closest state park.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out as you stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass.  The morning air was a bit chillier than it had been lately, signaling the coming onslaught of winter.

Maybe Bucky would wanna make hot cocoa together… go sledding…  Would him, Josephine, and Danny would all come over for Christmas and New Years and—

Would he even want to meet Josephine?

Would Josie wanna meet him?

She had no idea that you’d found a—A boyfriend?

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky murmured against the shell of your ear as his vibranium fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed.  His stubble tickled your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, watching the passing scenery with you.  “I’m really glad I met you, doll…”

“Me, too,” you said, grinning as you squeezed his hand back and leaned your head against his.

It was strange, falling so hard for someone so quick after everything you’d been through.

But you had a gut feeling.  One that you had never had with your ex husband.

James was a good one.  A really, really good one.

That reminded you.

When were you meant to tell him about all the shit you’d been through?

Despite the amount of time you had spent together already, you hadn’t found the courage for it.

Soon, you decided.

But first, you had to get through the damn hike.

Bucky was glued to your side the entire time, even though you were a lot worse at hiking than he was.  He would hold your hand, guiding you anytime there was a fallen tree or a creek.  His blue eyes were soft as he murmured encouragement, quietly praising your every move.

It was intoxicating.

So when you two fell behind from the group, watching them go around a curve and down a hill, you dragged James behind a large rock formation.

“Baby doll?  Darling, what the hell are you doing?” He laughed as you pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous?” You teased as you dropped to your knees, ignoring the way a twig was poking into your left knee.  “Need to taste you.”

His eyes locked on you as you worked at his jeans, getting them down and off, his nails scratching at your scalp as he got a good grip on your head.  “Fuck…  Are you really this needy for me, angel?  Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous…  Look at you.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you finally freed his length, a grin on your lips as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly stroked him.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.  “Fucking shit…  Good girl…  Suck me off real good, baby.”

The group probably would notice your absence, not that you particularly cared.

Not when you had your man so weak for you.  And all you’d had to do was get on your knees.

His metal and flesh hands guided you to take more of him in, going at a slow pace so as not to hurt you.  He was so big there was no way you’d get all of him down your throat but what you couldn’t take in your mouth, you pleasured with your hands.

Pleasuring your partner like this was addicting.  You’d never felt the desire—no, the incessant need—to please your ex husband.  All you could think about was getting Bucky off, making him feel so good that he couldn’t see or walk straight.

You choked around him as you took him as deep as possible, your eyes glassy.  When you popped off, you stroked him as you moved down to carefully suck at his balls, fighting a grin as he gasped, his hips stuttering.  Before he could orgasm, you took him back in your mouth, wanting to swallow him down.

“Fuck, fuck—  Oh, shit…  Baby—  I’m gonna…  I’m gonna—”  Bucky broke off with a shout as he came, spilling down your throat.  His large hands stroked your cheeks as you swallowed all of it, barring the little bit that had gotten on your lower lip.  “You did so good, darling,” he cooed as he helped you stand, pressing you against the rock behind him as he kissed you.  “Are you okay?  I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, a faint smile on your lips as you helped him put himself back away.  “You were perfect, James…”

When you finally caught up to the group, a few of the others shot you knowing looks.

But Bucky just had a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hand tightly intertwined with yours even as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Once we get home, it’s your turn,” he whispered in your ear as you all headed back for the van.

Your relationship with James was… wonderful.

It was easy in a way you’d never had before.

Within just two months, he was living at your house almost full time, to the point where you’d been thinking about asking him to move in.

It was like you two were magnets.  Even when you both had work to do, you did it in the same room, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting close, your foot running up his calf.

And he’d gotten you to start writing.

“It’s your dream, doll.  You’re never too old to chase your dreams,” he said one night as you two laid in bed.  His metal fingers were tracing shapes on your spine, a chill from the cracked window ruffling his sweaty hair.  “If you don’t mind me asking…  Why did you stop in the first place?”

Ah.

The conversation you’d been avoiding for so long.

Sitting up, you pressed your hands to your face as you tried to find the words to say.  “Um…  I was married before…  I know you know, but, uh…”  Your fingers fiddled together nervously.  You swallowed around the lump in your throat.  “My husband…  He wasn’t…  He wasn’t nice.  At all.”

Bucky immediately sat up behind you, his vibranium hand resting flat on your back to reassure you that he was there, and to give you something to focus on while you spoke.  He didn’t need to speak for you to know.  He was there and he wasn’t running.

“I married him young… and I had Josephine young…  He’d always been so… possessive, but I just considered it protective,” you continued, pulling strength from his touch to keep on going.  You needed to tell him this.  You needed him to understand.  “Then after Josie was born, he started getting violent.  He’d always been mean, but he’d never hit me until after I gave birth…”

James was tense behind you, slowly scooting over so he could wrap his arms around you, his legs resting on either side of yours as he held you.  He needed you close.  Needed to know you were safe in his arms and that man was long gone.

“Put me in the hospital a few times…  He at least didn’t do it in front of Josie.  That’s the one thing I asked of him that he listened to.”  You couldn’t help but snort as you slowly relaxed back against him.  “She always thought all the bruises and shit was just a side effect of how clumsy I am…  But she came home one day during college, to surprise us…  She walked in on him holding a frying pan above his head, about to swing again.  She jumped in between us and told him if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.”  You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as his lips pressed to your bare shoulder.  It was soothing, feeling his skin against yours.  “She moved me out of that house and into her apartment, helped me get the divorce, get back on my feet…”

“Remind me to tell Josephine thank you,” he said quietly as he squeezed you close.  “Thank you for telling me, doll…  I…  I can’t imagine how hard that was…  But he’ll never touch you again.  No one will ever touch you again if you don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.  “I love you.  So much…”

A peace settled over you as you rested your head back against his, allowing yourself to truly fall into him, to relax.  “And I love you…”

After that night, Bucky slept over at your place five to six nights a week, only going home to get more clothes and do his laundry really, even though you’d told him a million times he could do it at your place.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear one morning, pushing your hair away from your face.  “Time to get up…  I’ve got breakfast ready for you…”

Groaning, you tried to pull him down for more cuddle time, but he wasn’t having it.  He always woke up before you, too many years a soldier coming into play.  He’d go for a run and make breakfast before waking you up.

“Come on, doll,” he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he got you to sit up, your vision blurry from sleep still.  “Medicine,” he said, pressing your pills into your palm and putting a glass of water in your other. 

Ever since he’d found out about your prescriptions and how you had a hard time remembering to take them, he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you did, every morning and night without fail.

“What’d you make this morning?” You asked sleepily after swallowing your pills, letting him pull you to your feet.  His t-shirt clung to you as you followed him down the hall.  Your hand was tucked into his as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

What neither of you had heard was the sound of the front door opening.

“Mama?!  What the hell?!” Josephine demanded, standing in the kitchen with Danny right behind her.  “Who the fuck is this?!  What is he doing here?!”

Oh.

Yeah.

You’d neglected to tell your daughter, afraid of how she might take it.

“Hello.  I’m James.  Or Bucky,” your boyfriend said as he held out his hand to you, clearly unashamed and standing his ground even though he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Your daughter repeated angrily, ignoring his hand.

“Josie,” Danny began, trying to soothe her.

But your daughter was nothing but determined when she was in her protective mode.

Before you could open your mouth, Bucky supplied, “I’m her boyfriend.”

You felt a flush coming over you as she stared at the two of you, slack-jawed.  “He is,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his metal one.  You were so nervous, you were shaking.

“When did this happen?!” She demanded, beginning to pace back and forth around the kitchen.

“Um…  The first meeting at the bar… for the club,” you said.  Seeing her so upset made your anxiety spike, and you knew James could feel it, could hear the way your heart rate increased exponentially.

Josephine whirled on you, her eyes—so much like yours—wide with disbelief.  No.  Betrayal.  “You’ve been seeing someone for almost three months and you didn’t tell me?”

“I…”  Tears pricked your eyes as you tightened your grip on Bucky’s arm.  This was not the way you wanted them meeting to go.  “I was scared… of how you’d react…”

At that moment, Bucky turned to meet your eyes, his forehead almost pressing against yours.  “Darling, I feel like this is a conversation you two should have alone, yeah?  So I’m gonna take—Danny, right?  Yeah—Danny to the living room with some coffee so we can get to know each other, okay?”

After a nod, and a squeeze of his hand, he got two mugs of coffee and led your daughter’s girlfriend to the living room.  You could see them sitting down from the corner of your eyes, but you were much too focused on Josephine.

“Mama, I—”

“I love him,” you said, before she could say anything more.

Her eyes were shining, locked on you as she waited for you to speak.  In her gut, she knew this was something you needed to get out.

“I love him more than I’ve ever loved a man.  More than I loved your father,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “And I know…  I know you’re as protective as you are because you saw how he treated me.  You saw how much I hid that he was hurting you, but Jamie isn’t like that.”  Your fingers fiddled as you tried to keep yourself from pacing.  “He’s kind and adoring and gentle and…  and he loves me.  More than I thought anyone could ever love me.  And I know you feel like you need to take care of me and I am so grateful.  And I still need you.  Everyday.  But Bucky…  I love him.  I love him and he loves me and we take care of each other.”

Josephine reached out, slowly taking your hands in hers.  “He…  He makes you happy?  He takes care of you and you’re safe?” She asked, voice trembling as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Yeah.  He takes real good care of me,” you insisted with a weak laugh.  “And I’ve never been so happy before, honey.  I promise.”

“Okay…,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “I’m still giving him the shovel talk.”

Bucky looked up as Josephine entered the living room, looking much calmer.  He wasn’t sure what you’d said, but it had seemed to placate her for the time being.

“Can we talk outside?” She asked him, keeping her chin high.

God, she looked so much like you.

He nodded stiffly, getting to his feet and leaving his mug behind as he followed her to the front door and out onto the porch.  The former super soldier watched as she paced back and forth, biting her thumb.  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Josie stopped in her tracks, listening quietly.

“Your mama loves you something fierce.”  Nervously rubbing his hands on his pajama pants, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous meeting a girl’s family.

Though, he supposed it was a bit different when it was meeting your girlfriend’s daughter.

“And I love her.”

Your daughter, your mini me, stared him directly in the eyes.  “I’m sure she’s told you about my father.  What he did.”

“She did.”

“So you know that if you put one fucking foot out of line, I’ll filet you?”

“I do.”

She eyed him for a long moment.  “What are you in this for?  What’s the long term?” She asked.  “I’ve heard of elders just… settling for someone because they don’t wanna be alone in their twilight years.  Is that what this is?”

Bucky tried really hard not to feel a little bit offended.  He wasn’t that old.  “I’ve been alive since 1917,” he said slowly.  “I have no doubt you know who I am.  But I’ve been alive a hundred and something years, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way your mom does.”  His heart clenched inside his chest as he thought of you, seeing your shy smile in the mornings, how you clung to him when you went out in public, the sound of your voice as you read an excerpt of your writing to him, so nervous about what he would think.  “And I…  I can say that everything I’ve been through…  Everything I’ve ever been through was worth it, because I got to meet her.  And I get to be hers for the years I have left.”

She looked absolutely speechless.  “Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat.  “Good.  I just…  I can’t see her get hurt again.  Not after everything.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan to,” he said, his mouth dry.  “I…  I actually have something to ask you about…  Been waiting to meet you to talk to you about it…”

Inside, you paced the kitchen and living room, going back and forth and back and forth, sometimes moving to the window to try to hear what they were saying.  But they were keeping it all very hushed.

“It’s gonna be fine, mama,” Danny said, standing up and moving to wrap her arms around you.  “Josie’ll see how much you two love each other, and it’ll be fine.  She’s just gotta have her protective moment.  You know how she is.”

Sniffling, you hugged her tightly.  “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long…  I was just so nervous…  They both…  They both mean the world to me.”  You paused, snorting.  “I knew you’d approve of him.  I wasn’t so worried about you.”

“Oh, please, the way that man looked at you?” She said, laughing as she kissed your forehead.  “Mama, there’s no way in hell that man would ever hurt you.  He looks at you like you’re his entire universe.”

Heart warm, you glanced towards the front door, wishing they’d just come inside already.  “I’ve never felt something like this…  But fuck, if the whole shit show that’s my life wasn’t worth it for him…  I wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it means I get to end up with him.”

You broke out of her grasp as the front door opened and they came back inside, looking relaxed and even… happy?  “Well?  You aren’t gonna kill him?” You asked Josie as you moved to James, heart racing.

“Nah…,” she said, giving him what seemed like a secretive smile.  “As far as dads go…  He’d be pretty nice to have.”

“What?” You said, brows furrowing as you looked between the two of them.

Bucky chuckled, winking at Josephine as he led you to the stove where breakfast was still waiting, making you waddle as his arms wrapped around you from behind.  “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, baby doll.  It’s all good.”

You still couldn’t help but feel like the two were planning something as he made your plate for you, cutting up your pancakes and filling up your coffee.  “Why do I feel like you two are gonna end up ganging up on me?”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Josephine said with a smirk on her face.  Her and Danny had made their own plates and joined you and Bucky in the living room.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?”

“Yeah,” James said as he fed you a bite of pancake.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?” He asked, before leaning in and stealing a kiss.  “I love you.”

You’d never felt more relaxed, surrounded by the people you loved the most in the world.  What you’d said to Josephine had been true.

“I love you more,” you said, leaning back in for another kiss.

You’d never been so happy.

[xaphrin]

I am hoping to post this whole fic all at once, but I was so happy with this chapter that I wanted to share it. So, here. Have some "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with my wedding baker" AU.

- - -

When Damian opened the door to find Raven standing in the hallway, the expression on her face spoke volumes about her feelings of being here when most people were dead asleep.

She adjusted the large plastic container in her hands and shook a lock of hair out of her eyes. “You are aware that it’s two in the morning, right?”

Damian knew. Of course he did. A part of him almost felt apologetic for calling Raven and forcing her to come to his home in the middle of the night (especially over something as insignificant as lemon curd), but with the premium he was paying her for an off-hours house call, he didn’t allow that apology to take root. He’d been accused of being a “night owl” on more than one occasion, but the truth was that he suffered from occasional bouts of insomnia. And if he had to suffer through this ailment, then so should others - including the baker for his wedding.

“I’m paying you enough to make up for your interrupted sleep schedule.” Without any ceremony, he ushered her into his penthouse, closing the door behind her. Titus pushed past him and nudged Raven’s hip, begging for pets. Damian couldn’t help but notice that Titus paid Raven more attention than he paid his own fiance. “Sleep when you’re dead.”

Raven’s lips pulled to the side in a teasing half-smile, her eyes meeting his. “How chivalrous of you.” There was a small pause as she set the plastic container down on a small table by the door and bent down to scratch Titus behind the ears. “You know that your night time doorman seems to think I’m here for purposes other than cake. Why else would some strange woman be visiting you at an unreasonable hour?”

Damian didn’t care what his doorman thought, and he highly doubted Raven cared. She was just trying to get under his skin. He shrugged and turned away from her, motioning her to follow him deeper into his flat. “I hardly see how that is my problem. Besides, didn’t you say that you get up at four in the morning anyway?”

Her face fell. “That is entirely beside the point, and you know that, Mr. Wayne.”

“You can call me Damian.” He had reminded her of that fact at least half a dozen times now.

“Ha.” Her sarcastic laugh made him smirk. “No one calls a Wayne by their first name. It’s akin to social suicide. I’d be willing to bet that you even call your father Mr. Wayne.”

Damian walked her through the massive living room, heading towards the kitchen at the far end of his flat. “Only on holidays, and the occasional birthday.”

Raven snorted. “Ah. I see how deep the decorum runs.” As they walked into the kitchen, her face lit up with surprise, and she let go of a low whistle. Pushing past him, she inspected the appliances with blatant envy. “Do you even know what I would do to have this oven in my posession? I would commit war crimes to get this oven in my apartment.” She opened the oven doors and looked inside before standing up and turning to him, eyes narrowing. “Is this just for show? Do you even bake?”

“No.”

Raven closed the oven door and sighed. “Pity.”

“I cook.”

That seemed to pique her interest, and she leaned against the marble countertop, watching him with a sharp stare. There was a long stretch of silence, and it felt like her eyes were boring into him, stripping away everything that protected him until it felt like each flaw was exposed to her scrutiny. In any other situation, Damian would have slammed up some kind of barrier to keep her from looking too deep, but this time he found himself oddly comfortable with letting her investigate him. He didn’t mind showing her his weaknesses, and that thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. He kept his face blank and let her watch him.

“You know… I am having a hard time imagining you slaving over a stove in a hot kitchen.” Her head tilted to the side and she smirked. “Although I like the thought of you wearing a frilly apron. A soft pink one, with ruffles and bows.”

His face fell and he crossed his arms over his chest. Cheeky. “I am docking your home visit fee until you take that back.”

“Mm. Worth it.” She turned away from him, and reached for the plastic container on the counter, unsnapping the lid. In an instant, Titus was at her side and Damian watched her sneak him a treat she had obviously made for him. Raven seemed to make herself at home in his kitchen, as if she belonged there. He found himself smiling at her, and a strange kind of warmth filled his chest.

“So, tell me your fear with the lemon curd, and why it was so imperative that you force me out of bed at two o’clock in the morning to travel all the way across town with cake samples.”

Well, when she put it like that, it did make him sound like a typical, spoiled son of an eccentric billionaire. Damian ignored that small spot of guilt again and settled on a stool at the eat-in counter. “I think my fiance is allergic to lemons… or curd. I can’t remember, but it’s one of those.” He thought for a long moment, trying to remember what it was that she had said last time he had spoken to his fiance.

“You can’t remember?” Raven turned back around and looked at him, her expression incredulous. “Haven’t you two known each other for years? That's what all the tabloids say anyway.”

Oh, right. The tabloids were spinning the relationship into some falsehood of star-crossed lovers who used to be childhood best friends. The truth was far less interesting. “We have known of each other for years. We’ve crossed paths at various parties and events, and my father and hers have a mutual business relationship. But, knowing each other implies some kind of deep, long term relationship. Something more than casual friends.”

“Ah.” Raven rummaged through his cabinets for plates, setting them next to the plastic container containing cake samples. “And I take it that’s not what you have with the daughter of Queen Consolidated?”

Damian shrugged, knowing that talking about the arrangement was opening himself to all kinds of scrutiny from her. But, there was something about Raven that made it almost comfortable to open up to her. In all the times they had been together, she never seemed like the type to spill his secrets. In fact, she seemed to keep them closer than most people he knew. He actually liked talking to her - even with her cheeky attitude. “We’ve only been together in an official capacity for a few months.”

“Oh…”

Her tone seemed to waffle between pity and understanding, and Damian felt like he had to scramble for an explanation. It felt like he didn’t want her to think less of him as a person.

“The marriage is one of a business nature. Our families would be brought together with the marriage of children. It would strengthen the ties between us.” After saying it out loud, Damian realized how cynical that sounded. It was more than just a business move. For all intents and purposes, he liked Emiko, she was smart and polite and reasonably attractive. Marrying her was a good, sound move. He would be content though their marriage.

“I didn’t realize that was still a thing - marrying for business purposes.” Raven pulled out cake samples from the plastic box and placed them on the counter. “Sounds a little medieval, if you ask me.”

Damian shrugged, not feeling any particular way about her comments. “She’s a lovely woman.”

“Is she?” Raven scoffed. “My landlady is a lovely woman. The mail person is a lovely woman. The person who delivers my takeaway is a lovely woman." She gave him a flat stare, pursing her lips. "Lovely woman is not a term of endearment you use for someone you're madly in love with."

"I never said I was madly in love with her."

"Ah. I see. I must have misunderstood." She handed him a slice of cake, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s as she watched him. "Raspberry and chocolate." She paused. "Is that the business agreement to the marriage then? You marry Emiko Queen, and in return both families have fingers in each other’s pots… so to speak.”

"Yes." Damian took a bite of the cake, and he tasted the sharp tartness of the raspberry at the forefront of the cake before melting away to luscious chocolate. Just like the first time he tasted her cakes, he barely kept himself from moaning in pleasure. She had to bake magic into her cakes for them to taste this damn good. He chewed slowly, letting himself wallow in the flavor.

"Does she love you?"

Damian swallowed and stared at her. The question caught him off guard. He knew for certain he didn’t love her, but he had never really thought about whether or not she loved him. "That's forward of you."

"Asking if your fiance loves you?" She snorted and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "You're right. How rude of me." Another slice of cake appeared. "Pistachio and cardamom."

He took a bite and tamped down a shiver. She was a magician, there was no other explanation. The flavor curled in his mouth like spiced smoke. "It'll be a fine arrangement."

"Mm. How romantic, an arrangement. Be still my fluttering heart."

Damian rolled his eyes and took another bite of cake. "I am amazed you manage to keep clients with the mouth on you."

She gave a one shouldered shrug. "I let my work speak for me." There was a pause and she leaned over the counter to look closer at him, trying to decipher his expression. “But you never answered my question. Does she love you?”

Damian blinked, letting her question settle in the pit of his stomach. Did his fiance love him? He doubted it, but then again, he never thought to ask. Emiko wasn’t frigid to him, but she wasn’t overly attached either. Indifferent seemed to be the best way to describe her feelings, as though she cared for him as nothing more than a distant friend. She seemed to view this arrangement the same way he did - a duty to her family and a business transaction. Nothing more.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” Raven’s head tilted to the side and she stared at him again, blatantly reading his face. He felt uncomfortable, letting her sharp eyes watch him. She seemed to see more than anyone else had. “I see hundreds of couples a year, and I’ve learned to pick out who truly cares for each other, and who really doesn't know what they want."

Damian took another bite of the pistachio cake, never looking away from her face. Even when she was picking him apart, she was beautiful. "And I take it that you believe I'm the latter?"

"I don't just believe, I know." She handed him another slice of cake. "Orange spice."

"I'm not particular about marrying for love. I've never subscribed to the idea." The orange spice was by far the best, and it immediately went on the short-list.

A pitying look crossed her face. "You don't believe in love?"

That question made him pause, and he looked back at her, his head filled with something akin to smoke. It was like he couldn’t think beyond her question. "I… don't know." He realized with some small amount of shock that he really didn't know. As he sat there, watching her, he realized that he never thought he would fall in love. He had crushes and minor relationships, but nothing that he would call love. Nothing that made him feel like the world was falling out from under his feet, and he was left clamoring for something that made him whole.

“You look surprised by your own answer.” Raven’s voice was soft, nearly swallowed up by the silence between them. “Did you honestly think you would never fall in love?”

“I suppose I did.” Damian took another bite of cake and shifted in his seat. “Love never seemed like something I gave much thought to. My duty has always been to my family, and as long as I am comfortable, I don’t see the need for much else.”

Raven pulled out another slice of cake. “Have you thought that maybe you haven’t met the right person?”

Damian’s face fell and he stared at her, taking the slice of cake from her. “That seems a trite response.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. That’s vanilla and rose water.”

Damian’s face scrunched at the flavor and he pushed it away. “That rose water is abhorrent.”

A soft laugh escaped and Raven shook her head. “Rose water is very en vogue right now. I’m not fond of it, but some people like it.” She took the slice back and leaned against the counter. “So, tell me if you don’t mind, why are you putting all this effort into a wedding with someone you don't have feelings for?"

"It's meant to be a performance." He hummed softly, thinking. “Both of our families have a reputation to uphold, and if we don’t live up to that expected standard, the media will tear us apart. Emiko doesn’t need any poor publicity.”

“Mm. I understand to a point.” She paused and pulled out another slice of cake. “You’re very pragmatic about this.”

The way she said that didn’t sound like a compliment. Damian took the offered cake. “I don’t require your approval.”

“I never said you did. I’m only in this for the absolutely exorbitant fee you’re paying me.” She smirked. “But… I am curious, don’t you want to fall in love? Just once?”

“And who would I fall in love with?” He took a bite of cake and practically sighed. Chocolate and orange.

“You’re a Wayne. More than half the world would be willing to fall in love with you. Take your pick.”

“I don’t think you can force love.”

Raven shrugged. “Well, your upstanding camaraderie with your fiance doesn’t fit the bill either.”

He blinked and took another bite of the cake. This was the one. “I never intended to love her. Our partnership will be fine.”

Raven lifted an eyebrow. “So… what happens if you fall in love with someone before you get married?”

“I hardly think that will happen.” He scoffed and took a third bite of the cake. He doubted he would find anyone who could coax him to fall in love. That seemed like an impossible task. “And even if I did, it changes nothing.”

“You’re so committed to this marriage. It’s admirable.” Her smile widened. “I take it the orange and chocolate one is the winner? You’ve eaten half the slice already.”

“You’re talented at this.” He took another bite and met her stare. “What about you?”

“I think the chocolate orange will both make a statement and still be appropriately conservative.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His eyes searched hers, and he suddenly realized he had to know. He had to know if there was anyone in her life that meant more than just a friend. He wanted to know who her heart beat for. “Are you in love?”

Color crawled up her neck. “That’s a pretty personal question to ask your baker.”

Damian shrugged. “For what I’m paying you, humor me.”

She chewed on her lower lip and glanced away, and she shifted for a moment. “Currently? No. I was in love once, but… it faded.” She looked back into his eyes. “But that doesn’t make it any more special and important.”

"And you want to fall in love again?" He felt strange and a little invasive asking these questions, but some part of him wanted to know. He wanted to know not just about falling in love, but Raven falling in love specifically. Would she fall in love again? And with whom?

"Of course." Her voice was soft and gentle, and she gave him a small, almost sad smile. "I haven’t found the right person to fall for just yet. But it’ll come.”

Something in Damian’s chest twisted and he found himself reaching across the counter to rest his hand next to hers. It was as close as he dared to get to her. She met his stare for a long moment, and that feeling in his chest turned almost painful. He wanted to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, to feel her skin under his fingertips, but his hand stayed firmly pressed against the cool marble of the counter.

He swallowed slowly and nodded. “The chocolate orange.”

[hes-writer]

deja vu

Summary: part two of drivers license!

Warning: angst

Word Count: 1643 words

let me know if you liked it!

_____

If this was a movie, Y/N would’ve collapsed on the floor, knees hitting the ground as her legs lost the ability to keep her weight up. The corners of her lips would tilt downwards as a fusion of sadness and nostalgia bombarded her at every corner. Tears would collect at her waterline, waiting for the remarkable blink that would send each drop of salty liquid down the apples of her cheeks. Y/N imagined she would call Harry on her phone and scream at him as soon as the click sounded, signalling that he had picked up the call.

Yet as seconds passed by, none of those theatrical episodes happened.  Unlike in the movies, Y/N’s physical reactions were minuscule. Her heart ached in her chest. Her throat scrunched like a wad of tissue papers in her hand, drying up with shock and the shallow inhales she let out.  The swirling of her stomach increased tenfold as she teetered between feelings of anger and indifference.  This should not affect her anymore--or should it? It had barely been a few months since she last saw him and a little bit after when the first photos of Harry and his girlfriend went viral on the internet.

Everyone, especially him, seemed to move on from the relationship that they had shared.  Y/N felt like she needed to catch up to him, racing to throw away the feelings she still held for him and to pretend as though nothing happened.  But it was easier said than done.  There were still endless memories that replayed through her head every time she passed by an ice cream shop.  It was a hidden gem, past the popular hot spots.  Not a lot of people knew about it because of its distanced location.  And as much as Harry was a certified health nut; his guilty pleasure was a scoop of strawberry ice cream--in a cup instead of a waffle cone, of course.

Y/N still remembered those drives-turned-beach-trips.  It was mostly during his days off.  She and Harry would spend the whole day together, sharing one spoon amongst each other while they passed the cup of ice cream back and forth. The sound of the ocean encompassed them as they lay hidden around an alcove of rocks. It was a secluded area of the beach that Y/N had found way before.  The sand was grainy beneath the layer of a checkered picnic blanket that Harry kept at the trunk of his car, their bodies laying on top of it.  Eventually, Harry would proceed to just spoon-feed her, ‘accidentally’ nudging her nose with the cold treat.

.

.

.

.

Y/N could feel her shoulders slump at the flashback, body sagging as she sighed at what her phone screen was reflecting back to her.  It was her Instagram feed showcasing Harry’s profile. A picture of a haunting landscape was captured by his phone lens; it was the very same beach spot that she had taken him to.  Deja vu.

She bit her lip, wanting to smile about how he still visited it even without her.  It showed that Harry still kept a memory of her at the back of his mind.  Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought, a sliver of hope shining through the dimness of her days. But it was impossible to keep an optimistic stance when she saw the caption.  A simple tag of his new girlfriend’s Instagram handle puckered her lips into a sour expression, brows pinching together in curiosity as Y/N continuously denied the obvious constituent of events.

“There’s no way,” She muttered, breath hitching as Y/N’s thumb hesitated on tapping the bolded font.

There was absolutely no way that Harry would bring someone else in such a coveted spot.  It was hers; she found it first and now he was acting as though it did not hold any meaning to her.  Not like Y/N didn’t spend the last few days laying on his lap, watching the sunset over the horizon. Harry’s fingers would comb through her tendrils, tucking his jacket tighter around her chin to ensure that she was warm despite him being covered in goosebumps himself. Y/N would look up to see the beginning stubbles of his facial hair as Harry looked ahead, his green eyes mirroring the artistic hues of orange, pink and purple.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Jenny asked, returning from her short trek to Y/N’s small kitchen. One hand was carrying a large bowl of chips while the other held two cans of soda.

Y/N stared at her friend with hesitance.  Was it worth bringing it up? She must be sick of her talking about him all the time.

“He brought her to our place,”

It was harder to hear it out loud.  She didn’t even recognize her own voice; void of emotion except for a strained sound of pain.

Jenny tilted her head to the side, “Who did?”

“Harry. . .” Y/N cleared her throat before continuing, “There was this place I found in Malibu. At a beach.  It’s pretty hidden and I used to go there by myself whenever I needed to think. I took him there.  It was our place, you know? Somewhere only the two of us knew and I don’t know,” She trailed off.

“You thought he would keep it between you guys,” Jenny finished off, nodding her head in empathic comprehension.

“Yeah, it just sucks,” Y/N furrowed her brows, staring at the space in front of her as she took in the gravity of the situation. “He even took her to D’Campos,”

“The ice-cream shop?”

She nodded, “It was on her Instagram story today,”

“Forget about him, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve your tears,”

“I’m not even crying,” She chuckled, slapping Jenny’s arm jokingly.

“You look like you’re about to,”

Y/N sighed, “It hurts.  Feels like he’s everywhere.  Just when I thought I was moving on, he pulls shit like this and I’m forced to remember how good it was between us, you know? I haven’t driven past D’Campos or anywhere else that I might see him because it hurts too much to reminisce what I don’t have anymore.”

It was ridiculous how much Y/N has had to change her routine in order not to feel any more pain.  She actively avoided places where Harry frequented in fear of confrontation and also because he might be with his girlfriend.  She didn’t know how she could stay stoic seeing their hands clasped together, gazing at each other lovingly when Y/N wanted that from him for herself.

“You’re doing just fine, honey.  Do you know who can’t move on? Him.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s doing fine,” Y/N said sarcastically, resting her back on the couch. “Better, even.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Jenny argued, “Out of the two of you, who’s the one always going to the places you shared?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but a swift hand in the air caused her to halt.

“It’s him, right?” Jenny answered rhetorically.  “I do not care what you say; that man misses you and it shows.  Harry’s going to where he expects you to be, probably in hopes of running into you. Maybe even because he wants to relive the moments you shared together with her in hopes of him feeling the same way he felt like when he did with you,”

“T-that’s insane. He’s fine without me,” Y/N stuttered out, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

“First of all, you are in denial. Secondly, you cannot tell me that he doesn’t. He’s practically doing everything you guys used to do with this new girl.  Why? Because he fucking misses you, Y/N.  Hell, you’ve even got the same name.”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“My ass,” Jenny scoffs, “Answer me something, do you still remember how it felt being there with him?”

Y/N nodded, “Always,”

“Describe it to me,”

Y/N squinted her eyes in suspicion. Where was Jenny going with this?

“Uh, as cheesy as it sounds, I felt happy and free. I could talk about anything without being judged.  He had a way of making me feel comfortable without even saying anything.  When we were together--wherever we were--I could be vulnerable about myself in front of him,”

“Would you do whatever it takes to feel that same way again?”

In a heartbeat, Y/N stated, “Without a doubt.”

“Tell me, if Harry asked you to meet him there right now, would you go?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a moment to process the question. She had just said that she would do whatever it takes to feel the same unconfined emotion again.  So why was she saying ‘no’?

“I-I wouldn’t,”

“Exactly,” Jenny concluded with a quirk of her brow.

“You’re gonna have to explain,”

“Gladly,” Her friend quipped. “You want to feel liberated, vulnerable, and honest again but not necessarily with Harry.  That place meant a lot to you--sure.  But it doesn’t matter.  What counts is who you are with.  Who’s giving you that type of comfortability that you’re able to be just yourself around them. Do you understand?”

Y/N leaned forward in interest.

“You are well aware of that but you won’t accept it. You won’t go with him because you know that it won’t be the same anymore. That’s the first step of moving on.  Once you acknowledge that as much as you miss him, as much as you think you want him to be around, you know better than that. He’s changed and so have you.  He’s searching for that same feeling by going back to the places that you used to go to.  Thinks he will find it there but--,”

“He won’t.” Y/N finished off. “Because she is not me,”

___

[princecharmingwinks]

heres another fail date, emphasis on FAIL. he took me horse riding. i have a healthy respect towards horses as they are sentient beings, sherlock holmes said it best with 'Why would I want anything with a mind of its own bobbing about between my legs?' anyway i'll spare you the set up and hit you with the punch line. the horse galloped straight for the fence, suddenly stopped short, threw me off directly into said fence, and my helmet got stuck in the wire. the worst part? fence was electrified.

Firstly, I am soooo sorry for how long this took me. Life happened and apparently my studies think they are important? Ridiculous really haha. Anyway! Thank you for gifting me another fail date prompt. Had lots of fun with this one. Hope you like it too <3

Setting the scene: established sterek, alive hale family, hales have a farm in their extended family somewhere and Derek spends most holiday breaks there while growing up...enjoy!

---

"Remind me again how you convinced me to do this?"

Derek snorted as he continued bridling the horses, "I believe it was around the time I was making breakfast."

"Naked, Derek. You were making me breakfast naked. How am I to be held liable for what I agree to when I've got your glorious ass bending over to find cinnamon for my waffles?"

This time Derek really did laugh. He finished up with the horses and made his way over to Stiles, placing a kiss on his lips.

"It will be fun. And besides, it's the best way to show you everything. Wasn't it you who wanted to see where I grew up?"

"Fine." Stiles huffed. "But only because imagining baby Derek herding cattle is adorable."

Derek smirked, "Imagine what current me looks like."

Images of a shirtless Derek swinging around a rope while on horseback flickered across Stiles' mind. He made a bee-line for the smaller horse without further comment.

~~

While Stiles didn't love the idea of horseriding, the scenery was making up for it. Both the acres that the Hales had owned and worked for several generations as well as seeing his boyfriend so at peace. Derek was a natural, even with being away from the farm for months. Stiles on the other hand was a city-boy through and through so while he might respect horses, riding one was another story.

He held the reins tightly in his grip and tried to pretend he wasn't freaked out.

"Hey, deep breaths. Horses can smell fear." Derek teased. "I thought you said you liked all animals?"

"I have an appropriate level of respect for horses. But why would I want anything with a mind of its own bobbing about between my legs?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "Come on, Holmes, we're almost back at the house. Dad promised to keep mum as far away from the kitchen as possible so I'm actually looking forward to dinner."

As they neared the homestead, Stiles saw some mini silhouettes crowding onto the front patio. He couldn't make out faces but could already guess who the spectators were.

"Introducing you to the twins was a terrible idea." Derek mused. "I'm starting to think they might like you more than me."

Stiles grinned. Of course he would hit it off with the twins. They were the offspring of Laura, who was practically his partner in crime when teasing Derek.

"That's because they like that I can do this!" Stiles let go on the reins and twirled his fingers in the air.

"Stiles, don't-"

It was too late for Derek's warning. The moment his spark shot out in bursts of mini fireworks from his fingers, the horse bolted.

Stiles yelped and clung on for dear life. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed this wouldn't kill him.

"Pull on the reins, Stiles!" He heard Derek yell somewhere off in the distance.

Right. Stiles wasn't a damsel in distress. He was a human who ran with wolves. He could stop a runaway horse, right?

Without acknowledging his surroundings, Stiles pulled the reins with all his might. In her mercy, the mare did stop. Except the abrupt halt forced Stiles forwards and over the horse. For a moment, he experienced what it was like to fly...and then fall.

Stiles' helmeted head wedged into the wired fence that the horse had suddenly stopped in front of.

Stiles remembered muttering, "Well least things can't get worse." Just before a bolt of electricity shot up his spine.

~~

When Stiles came to, it was to a ceiling of eyes. Derek's he recognised instantly, before his brain registered the others belonged to the twins. He was lying on the soft grass, thankfully away from the evil fence line.

"That was awesome! Do it again, Stiles!" Nate cheered.

"Yeah, do it again!" Ruby joined in.

"Give it a rest you two troublemakers. Stiles just got himself electrocuted." Derek huffed, shooing them away towards the house before returning his focus to Stiles. "You ok, baby?"

Derek had removed Stiles' helmet and out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw the blank ink lines tracing up the wolf's arm. So that's why he wasn't in agony. Yay for supernatural boyfriends and their ability to take away pain!

"Told you horseriding was a bad idea." Stiles smiled at his boyfriend's frown, "I'm fine, sourwolf. Just got a bruised pride and possibly tailbone."

Derek kissed his forehead and rubbed his stubbled against Stiles' cheek in a scent-mark.

"Next time no Spark Shows while on a horse, alright?" He said, helping Stiles slowing to his feet.

"There won't be a next time on a horse. Sherlock was on to something." Stiles dusted the grass off his shirt and jeans.

"You sure there's nothing you want bobbing between your legs?" Derek whispered against his earlobe.

A ripple of arousal slithered down Stiles' spine.

"Maybe just one exception."

"Aunty M said if you two don't come inside now, she's gonna eat all your roast beef!" Nate yelled from the patio.

"Ok, pocket that thought for later because there is no way I'm letting Malia eat my hard earned dinner." Stiles grinned, "You'll have to carry me babe to make it in time."

Derek rolled his eyes but understood the seriousness of the situation. His cousin never bluffed about food. He scooped Stiles up and they took off towards the house

---

Ta da! Ok so I picked Ruby as a nod of recognition to my favourite headcanon / casting of Laura (Ruby in Once Upon a Time). I know Malia is a cousin but I'm going with the theory that all the next generation call her Aunty M because...why not haha. I have never been electrocuted so please forgive any inaccuracy on that. Hope you weren't too badly injured in the real situation, concussed dragon! As always, thanks for popping in!! <3

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E121 (Jan. 19, 2021)

Aaaand we're back! The epic pet montage at the start is still the greatest thing ever.

Tonight's guests? Matthew Mercer and Marisha Ray!

We begin with an extensive discussion of waffle farts. As you do.

Matt is asked what it's been like to get to build out the characters in the Tombtakers. Lucien is Matt's favorite, but they've all got some fun traits to them. "It's one of those rare experiences as a dungeon master where you get to watch your players combat with the necessity of playing along. The instinct is: fuck these guys, I want to fight them, we'll take their shit... or I guess we have to play nice. And they begrudgingly grit their teeth and I smile internally."

On the Lucien accent: "You guys are all so mean to Taliesin!" Matt knew his own take would be a "weird mutation" of Mollymauk's accent anyway.

How's Marisha feeling about a lot of her predictions panning out? "Aw, I mean, gee, me? What? Noooo. It's definitely vindicating, I'm not gonna lie, and rewarding, but I also know that I write a lot of shit down in that notebook that's never relevant ever again. It's definitely a good feeling to know that I didn't go on that fifteen-minute deep dive and was utterly wrong about everything I said." Matt: "I was super proud. I was just silently cheering you on as you went on these long tangents."

What does Lucien think of the Mighty Nein? "Lucien is definitely curious about why they're getting involved in his shit and what they're planning alongside them. One, he hates Beau because he doesn't like people who challenge his authority. He gravitates towards Jester to an extent because she's the most open, which from his standpoint makes her easiest to manipulate. He loves toying with curiosity, and so between Jester and Caleb, those are the two people that he's the most comfortable interacting with. Caduceus makes him feel a little weird. He's amused by them. Fjord to Lucien is one of the more guarded and less accessible at the moment."

Is Beau enjoying getting under Lucien's skin? "Beau's picking and poking still kind of stems from her defensiveness and guardedness and her feelings, in a lot of ways, and the way that she's coping with things. It's a few steps removed from her default and what she often resorts to when she starts throwing up those barriers. She still has in the back of her head that she's looking at her dead friend. It's her way of protecting herself if she can go, fuck you, I don't care about you. This isn't too dissimilar to the way she reacted when Yasha was brainwashed." Matt: "It's a unique social sparring match the whole time they're traveling side-by-side. It's unique to have an antagonistic force that you're--" Marisha: "That we're going camping with."

Navigating the Tombtaker/M9 relationship as a DM is "challenging. At any given moment, a wrong statement could escalate matters one way or the other. It's having to pay attention to a lot of things at all points in time to be ready for how those chain reactions can happen and where it might go." He likens it to trying to follow and participate in two different conversations simultaneously at a party.

On the note from Yasha: "Oh man, you guys. Oh, it was so sweet. I don't think Beau was expecting Yasha to be so forthcoming with everything, and so complimentary and eloquent. Beau is awkward with healthy relationships, so she doesn't know how to handle them. She's still processing that and wants to not ruin it. No, it was magical." Ashley told Marisha after the episode that she was trying to think of what to say and wound up basing it on what she would say about Marisha.

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Vax (by stormfeather_cosplay, photograph by travi_b, both on Instagram)!

On using variations on the Wild Magic table: "I wanted to give it some variation to consequences. They took some of the tooth out of it from earlier editions. I knew it would be fun once I gave them the specifications of when these things would happen - players are just waiting for someone to roll a 20 or a 1 at all times."

Why is it so important to Beau that she and Yasha have a proper date? Part of it is a fresh start. "So much of Beau's past relationships have been rooted in some toxic behavior. Beau feels like, well, maybe we should just start from the beginning in the most us way possible: fighting through the tundra with our dead-ish friend."

The sci-fi-ish theme came toward the end of developing Aeor, but it mostly comes from rationalization. Matt is intrigued by how all these different societies want to usurp the gods... which has parallels with modern society. He notes that focusing more on the science of the magic means the aesthetics pull away to "instead facilitate the utility or the most direct route to the answers you want. You streamline as opposed to focusing on the aesthetics."

Beau’s reaction to all the weird magic stuff? “I think Beau’s just so focused on the pragmatic aspects of it all right now. There are greedy people with motives and the will and want to corrupt across all spans of cultures and times. She’s trying not to get lost in the magic, both proverbially and literally, of it all, and just trying to focus on the motives of these people at hand.”

In some ways, Matt was surprised by Caduceus’ strong reaction to the creepy woods. “It was the first major reveal that there are some other sides to the coin that he hadn’t learned about. I had no idea how he would react. It pushed him away more in ways than I expected.”

Fan art of the week: an amazing Lucien! (by oratorkayla on Twitter)

What’s Dagen’s motivation? “He’s definitely a man of his word when it comes to fulfilling a contract and getting the other half of his pay, but it’s not hard to see they’ve grown on him a little bit. He’s really good at getting around the tundra unseen and unnoticed.”

Brian: “In true Sam fashion-” Marisha, instantly: “OH MY GOD.”

Marisha: “Here’s the thing. Here’s the tea, okay? If I ever hear one more fucking person trying to claim that I’m ruining things by metagaming, I’m going to point to Sam. I’m expected to respond accordingly to Veth being a Sam troll. Gods damn him! Raven Queen curse upon him! Let chaos reign! He made me pull out my earphones, I can’t hear anything you’re saying. It’s frustrating because I’d be mad at it if it wasn’t so god damn funny.” Matt notes that at a different table this wouldn’t be great behavior, but they all know each other well enough (and check in with each other enough) that it’s comfortable teasing.

With a bit of a deeper pull, Matt is asked whether he knew Avantika would return someday? “I knew she was a fun, interesting option out there. The M9 still have in their grasp the single most important artifact, in Uk’otoa’s opinion, at the moment. As long as they carry that artifact, his eye of Sauron is upon them.” Matt notes that he has more encounter tables going, so a lot of the time even he’s not sure what’s going to happen.

Caduceus suggested contacting Essek, but Beau and Caleb nixed that idea. Does Beau trust him? “Gods no. Absolutely not. She can like Essek personally. As a person, he’s fine, I guess. But I think a lot of people might be forgetting that he’s kind of a war criminal and kind of set off a lot of bad things in motion with this war with the Empire and the Dynasty, because he wanted power and to know things. So now here he is, also in Aeor. Yeah. Just kinda putting two and two together there. It is another one of those things of, you’re walking that line on trying to keep him on your good side and having a mutually beneficial relationship before it could easily go completely south.”

On the Star Razor being a Vestige: “I don’t want this to be--- the Vestiges aren’t always a thing where it’s like, you get a Vestige and you get a Vestige! I want them to be still considered special and rare. This is one that had to be earned, it had to be reforged. I didn’t know the circumstances that would involve it coming about.” He based it on the circumstances of Fjord’s evolution into a paladin. “In essence, not only did he finish the creation of the sword, but he Awakened it at the same time as he made this transition. It is Exalted at this point, it’s in its final form.”

What does Beau think might lie ahead? “I have no idea. I am trying to abandon expectation when it comes to that. I know what we don’t know, and that’s it. Beau is trying to compensate for the known unknowns and the unknown unknowns. I hope we can keep this tenuous relationship through to Aeor, because we need more answers before it explodes in our face. Beau, and Marisha, is hoping for a little more information before shit hits the fan.”

[paperpocalypse]

the first.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 7. “Good morning, beautiful/handsome”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,035 words

Warning: Swearing

[A/N: AU where the original timeline is restored after S2 and the siblings get back home :)]

He feels strange when he wakes up.

Five opens his eyes just a crack, then squeezes them shut immediately after, breathing in as he buries his face halfway into his pillow. God. He feels really strange.

The blankets are heavy and warm over his body. An ache – a half-pleasant ache, the kind that brings relief through every muscle once you stretch – lays gently along his shoulders as he rolls onto his back, reaching up to rub his eyes. Then he opens them again, more fully this time.

The curtains are drawn, and the sun paws at them with soft fingers. A gentle, yellow glow from the gap in between them falls across his eyes, and as he blinks, adjusting to the light, Five feels you shift next to him.

He looks over at you. You gaze back at him through sleepy, half-open eyes, and even though the bottom half of your face is obscured by the blankets, he knows that you’re smiling.

“Good morning, handsome.” Your voice is raspy and muffled. “Why’re you up so early?”

Five hooks his fingers over the top of the comforter, pulling it down so he can see the rest of your face. Your nose wrinkles at the cool air, and the ghost of a smile flits across his lips. “You realize that the sun’s up, right?” he murmurs.

You shift again to lay on your stomach, hugging your pillow. “That doesn’t mean anything to me anymore,” you say.

He raises his eyebrows as you yawn. “And why’s that?”

“Because the world isn’t ending,” you drawl, stretching out a hand underneath the covers to find his, “and we have curtains.”

Your tone is matter of fact. Five lets out an amused huff as you close your eyes, absently stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. Every once in a while since April 1st, you remind him that the apocalypse is no longer coming, sometimes in passing like this, other times more directly. And although he has never admitted it to you, he’s been needing those reminders – stopping the apocalypse had been his priority for decades, and now that it’s finally gone, he has to force himself to think about a future that lasts more than ten days.

A future that, thankfully, includes you.

“Did you sleep well?”

He hums, gazing at your peaceful expression. “Yeah,” he replies, and he’s being honest.

“Seems like you did.” You let go of his hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. A small grin graces your face. “You’re usually grouching around the room before your coffee.”

“Believe me, I’ll need it eventually.”

“You’ve been drinking less of it, though. That’s good.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ll fully kick it,” Five mutters. He reaches for your hand again, not completely unaware of his action. “It was one of the only things keeping me sane during the whole saving-the-world shitshow.”

Your grin grows slightly cheeky. “Oh?” you muse. “And what were the other things?”

“I can see your head swelling already.”

“Indulge me.”

He gives you a flat look, then rolls his eyes, letting you kiss his knuckles. “Fine,” Five concedes, his voice softer. “You also kept me sane, some of the time.”

“Aw, Five, I’m touched.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You press your lips to his hand again, and Five instinctively pushes down the strange, pleasant feeling that it sends through his chest. But then you hold them there, and you just look at him, and he swallows down the thought that he should pull away because he doesn’t want to. Because it feels nice. Maybe he should start getting used to having nice things, like Klaus and Allison had said.

… Jesus, he’s taking his siblings’ advice now. Something’s wrong with him.

When you withdraw, the distant ringing of a bell filters through the door. Five frowns.

You sit up reluctantly as he turns away from you to check the alarm clock. 9:34. Huh. Everyone must have slept in. It’s understandable; the previous night had been quite eventful, after all, with Claire’s birthday party at the mansion.

“I guess we didn’t sleep through breakfast,” you remark, stretching as he pushes the blankets off the two of you. “I wonder what Grace whipped up.”

Five swings his legs across and over the side of the bed. “Well, it’s Saturday, so she probably made pancakes.”

“Really? I was thinking waffles.”

The ringing gets louder. Klaus is heading up the stairs, Five thinks while the two of you pull the covers over the pillows. About thirty seconds from now he will open the door, swinging the bell around and telling Five and you to wake up. As per usual. Five finds himself looking forward to it, in the exasperated, fond kind of way reserved for his brother. It’s like old times.

(Better, actually.)

“Five? [Y/n]!” Klaus’s singsong voice cuts through the sound of the bell. The door creaks open and he pops his head in, pausing his clanging around for just a moment. “Wakey, wakey, lovebir – oh, you beat me to it. Less work for me.”

“We’ll be down soon,” you tell Klaus, smoothing out the comforter on your side.

“Oh, excellent. We greatly look forward to your presence at the table.” The man provides a sagely nod, then points the bell at Five. “You, not so much.”

Five sends a sharp, narrow smile his way. Klaus merely returns it with a mock grimace, unruffled, then resumes his ringing as he disappears from the doorway.

As his brother makes his way back down the hall, Five turns back around to meet your eyes; eventually, you break out into a chuckle as he deadpans. You move towards the curtains nearest to you and pull them open, letting the light in before joining him.

“Well,” you say, “we can’t leave them waiting, can we?”

“They’re used to it,” he responds.

Unhurried, Five walks with you over to the door, ushering you through before leaving the room himself. He leaves the door open.

Morning has broken, and his siblings and niece are downstairs. You are right beside him, alive and well, no longer touched by the ashes of the apocalypse.

Everything is just as it should be.