#roberto shaking his head the whole time

[hashtagcaneven]

[lauraryuguji]

You grabbed the bowl of popcorn as you plopped down on the sofa and turned on the television, the interview with Roberto and Enzo would start soon. It was a way of participating in the lives of the friends you developed while the movie was being recorded. Maintaining the bond, he would watch all the interviews that mentioned the actors.

The presenter gave a brief introduction, making sure to explain that this was the second part of the interview and that they would only be talking about Enzo and Roberto's lives on and off the set.The interview went as smoothly as possible and guaranteed a good laugh.

"This was one of the questions I left to the end, because it was just speculation..." the interviewer made a mischievous face while raising her eyebrows. "There was a rumor about a certain make-up combination on set."

"I even know who sent it." He laughs and shakes his head. "But yes, there was an agreement between Enzo and me about each day being made up by one of our make-up artists."

"oh my god." Enzo laughs, hiding his face in his hands. "Don't tell me about it."Roberto ignored him and while laughing he continued.

"But let me defend my side, she was very funny, like, she taught me words of her language all the time. And doing those makeovers took a long time, so it was much cooler with her."

"That's it?" the presenter asks, sipping her water.

"Yes, just that." Enzo says smiling. "She was wonderful as a make-up artist and very kind. We couldn't eat on set, because of the whole issue of keeping our bodies in tune with the movie, so she made sure we didn't eat on set either, and always brought us water and blankets... She's a great person."

"Enzo hid parts of his side, but anyway, so we made a deal that every day one of us would be made up by her. But at the end of the day I gave my space to Enzo." Roberto shrugged and winked at his friend. "And I bet she doesn't know that until today."

"Well, now she does." Enzo laughed, pointing at the cameras."She should know more." Roberto threw the provocation into the air, but received a disbelieving look from Enzo.

"Should she?" the presenter said smiling, "that's a good opportunity to tell her."

"He's joking." Enzo says quickly.

You let out a laugh without understanding what language these two were speaking, and finally the interviewer says goodbye and ends the program. It's at this moment that you hear your cell phone beep with the screen showing Enzo's photo.

"Hello?" His voice on the other end of the line whispers.

"Hello, I've just seen your interview, you did very well." You get up from the sofa.

"ah, well, thank you." Enzo replies briefly. "You heard everything, didn't you."

"Enough to know that I should know something else..." she jokes

"oh, yes." She laughs nervously. "Hey, uh, like, do you want to go out with me?Her gaze flutters as she stares at the window.

"Sure, I'd love to."

"Really? Great!" he exhales with relief. "Tomorrow, lunch... I'll pick you up."

"Deal."

[miamochi-writes]

Hey there! I saw your most recent posts and I love how you write! Could I get a request of a sleep deprived reader who stays awake after being ambushed by cops or bandits. And maybe Vash convinces them to rest after seeing how tired they are? Maybe sprinkle a bit of fluff? x

Zero O' Clock

A/n: oooo I dig this. Also I have been sleep deprived for a couple of days so this hits too close to home :'). I'm always up to write for this ray of sunshine. Plus, we all know this man would do anything to make sure you get the proper rest you need. Happy reading!

For the past several nights, you haven't gotten the best of sleep. Your eyes were starting to dry quickly and not adjust to the sunlight. Your body felt lethargic and a bit tingly every now and then from the lack of sleep. Your usual happy and cheery self was replaced with an irritable mood that even Wolfwood knew not to provoke you. You've been like this ever since the group was ambushed multiple times at night.

You were sleeping underneath the dark vast sky of the desert on top of the sand dunes. Like Vash, you were a light sleeper but you could easily fall asleep after making yourself comfortable. So right when you were about to drift off, you heard multiple foot steps running towards your camping site. Your eyes were wide open from hearing the sound as you got up. You and Vash spotted a group of bandits heading your way. You scrambled to wake the others as Vash and Wolfwood were trying to slow them down with their weapons. Eventually, the whole gang managed to clumsily pile into Meryl's car and as she stepped on the gas pedal. You thought that would be the end of it, but you were horribly wrong.

Two days after that incident, you were getting cozy with your sleeping bag after eating a hearty meal. Right when you dozed off, you only got to enjoy maybe 5 minutes of peace before Vash woke you up as you heard yelling from afar. This time it was bounty hunters closing in on the group with their fleet of Thomas. And so the cycle repeated itself once more as everyone had to wake up and make another getaway. All it took were those two ambushes to shake you to your core. Your mind and body were on edge no matter how much you wanted to sleep. The most you could do was close your eyes and just pass the time until sunrise. While your group was able to go back to their usual sleeping routines, your adrenaline and paranoia grew more each night.

Eventually, Meryl spotted a city nearby with a hotel and managed to get everyone rooms. You thought this would help you with your sleep predicament but to no avail. Another sleepless night of trying to close your eyes. You only managed to look at the ceiling or stare at your window with the moonlight shining. Once the sun's rays landed on your face, you sighed. You tried to look presentable before making your way to the lobby and grabbing something to eat. When you went downstairs you saw Vash was already sitting at one of the tables with his breakfast and another plate next to him. The blonde then noticed your presence as he waved at you.

"Good morning Y/n! I got you a plate!" he greeted as you couldn't help but smile at him. He constantly thinks about others and goes the extra mile what being told. His benevolent and cheery self always made you have faith in humanity once more when things seem bleak. Vash just had a natural charm that drew people to him, including you.

"Morning to you too Vash. I appreciate how thoughtful you are. Are the others joining us?" you asked as you took a seat next to him. It was moments like this you learned to appreciate Vash's company. It wasn't every day you get to enjoy moments like this with him where you can be comfortable and enjoy a meal together.

"Meryl and Roberto are out getting fuel for the car. Wolfwood is out and about probably getting some of his usual items. So it's just us here," he explained as you took a bite of your food and looked at him. So you were one of the lasts to wake up. Once he was done talking, he went to go put away his plate and came back to his seat.

"So what about you, what are your plans?" he asked giving you his full attention.

"I figured I'd grab a couple of things in town or see if anyone needs help before we head out to our next destination. What about you? I thought you'd be helping one of the townspeople by now," you spoke. You didn't want to be a burden, especially with moody you were with Roberto and Wolfwood. You didn't mean to, and thought you would make it up to them somehow.

"Yeah about that, something else came up," Vash vaguely answered as you cocked an eyebrow at him. Vash having a higher priority that was more important than helping civilians? You wondered what he was up to as you managed to finish eating.

"Oh, and what would that be?" you asked staring at him. You then saw his glasses hide his eyes with those oranges reflective shades. You got a glimpse of your reflection and felt a bit unnerved. Anytime his glasses did that, you knew the blonde was up to something.

"Y/n, how have you been feeling lately?" he asked as he slightly scooted closer to you. You were slightly caught off guard as you bit your lip.

"I'm peachy as ever, why?" you asked trying to convince him with your tone. You were catching on to his question, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him worry about you. He already carried a large burden on his shoulders, the last thing you wanted was to add to that burden. Vash's eyebrows furrowed as you were starting to grow tense from how close he was to you.

"Y/n, you don't have to pretend with me. I noticed you've been acting different with the others. You've also been quiet the past couple of days. I don't know what's going on, but you can talk to me. I just want to know if you're okay," Vash replied as you looked away. So he noticed your behavior too. You felt guilty that you made him worry. You debated on how to answer him as you bit your lip once more. You snuck a glance at him once more and you saw his blue eyes staring right at your e/c eyes. His eyes were filled with concern, yet he showed a small sad smile. It was almost as if he looked like he was giving you the puppy face which pulled your heart strings.

"Okay, fine I'll tell you. I'm not okay. I've been having a hard time sleeping lately. It's why I've been a little irritable and distant lately. I've been trying to sleep but nothing works. Doesn't matter if I sleep early, take a hot shower, or have a heavy meal, I keep staying up late," you caved in. Vash listened and rested his chin on the palm of his hands. He let you talk as he listened, but you could tell his worried expression grew.

"When did you first start having trouble sleeping?" Vash questioned. You told him how you first noticed since the ambushes started. It was specifically after the second one was when you were up all night. You also mentioned how you didn't want to burden anyone with your problems since they were nothing compared to what everyone else was facing.

"Y/n, you mean to tell me it's been going on ever since that day?" he asked once more as you sheepishly nodded.

"Were you able to sleep last night?" he continued as you shook your head.

"Are you nervous that it's going to happen again?" he asked.

"I don't know, maybe," you said as you wondered too. Vash looked deep in thought as you stared at him feeling vulnerable with the man you adored. Then Vash looked at you and put his human hand over yours as this small gesture caught you completely off guard with your heart racing.

"Well that settles it, you're going to sleep in for the day," he chimed as you looked at him with complete shock. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and led you back to your room. You couldn't get over how warm his hand was as your face was flustered. Sure you've brushed shoulders briefly with him, but him holding your hand for this long? Were you hallucinating from the lack of sleep?

He managed to get a hold of your room key and led you inside before he closed the door behind him.

"You really want me to sleep in? I feel bad Vash," you told him as he sighed.

"Y/n, you haven't slept in days. Besides, you can't help others if you're not helping yourself first. I know the others will understand," he pointed out as you gave in. You knew he was right as you made your way to your bed and laid down. Vash walked up to you and flashed you a quick smile as you hid your face under the covers.

"Now rest up, and don't even think about sneaking out. I'll be guarding the door," he warned as you pouted. He knew you too well. What shook you more was that he was pulling up a chair next to the bed as you felt your cheeks and ears turning red.

"Vash, what are you doing?" you asked him.

"Making sure you don't escape and actually go to sleep," he answered like it was no big deal.

"Y-you're really going to stay here with me while I try to sleep?" you asked once more as you emphasized the sleep part. You needed to be sure as he nodded his head with no hesitation. You heart rate was becoming erratic as your mind was racing.

"I think maybe you've been having trouble sleeping since you feel like you're expecting something to happen like the ambushes. I figured maybe you'd relax if you knew someone was here to watch over you while you sleep. It could help remove the stress," Vash explained as you gave it some thought. At this point, you were running out of options and you were willing to try anything at this point.

"Hey Vash, why are you doing all of this for me? You could be helping others like you usually do when we're at different cities," you asked out of curiosity.

"Well it's because I care about you. You're important to me and the group. The last thing I want is for something to happen to you when we're out traveling," he explained. Thankfully the blanket was covering part of your face as your blush grew a deeper color. Vash really made you feel all sorts of things. Your mind kept replaying his answer as you tried to get comfortable.

"Thanks Vash, I appreciate you doing this," you commented as you tried to focus on sleeping.

"Of course, I'm always happy to help. If something ever bothers you, know that I'm here Y/n," he reassured as you gave him a small smile. As you closed your eyes, you heard Vash humming a song. It was a beautiful melody that was ever so soothing. You turned your head towards Vash again and opened your eyes. You knew Vash had an alluring voice, but for him to carry a tune? He continued to surprise you more and more each day.

"What song is that?" you asked him as he perked up.

"It's something I used to sing to myself whenever I got scared or anxious. It always helps calm me down. I'm sorry, is it bothering you?" he spoke as you shook your head.

"No, I like it. It's a beautiful melody," you answered with a slight yawn. It was harder to keep your eyes open the more Vash kept humming. Your breathing was finally slowing as you hadn't felt this relaxed in awhile.

"Sleep well Y/n, I'll be right here," Vash commented as you dozed off with a smile. He continued to quietly sing until he was sure you were fast asleep. After 30 minutes, Vash went up to you and adjusted the covers as he saw you shiver a bit. He then gave a quick kiss to your head and sat back down as he watched fondly over you. It wasn’t until later on he decided to doze off for the day.

Bonus:

Wolfwood was looking around for you and Vash as he noticed how quiet it was around town. Usually there would be some commotion going off right now. It wasn’t until he saw a glimpse of Vash dragging you into your room and then putting the “Do not Disturb” sign out the door.

“Well, that wasn’t on my bingo card. But good for them,” Wolfwood whistled to himself with a smirk.

[peachyloveswriting]

@seabassycat asked: Vash. Something like him getting jealous about Wolfwood giving attention to the person Vash likes but is too shy to tell until Wolf does something about it.

This one is set in the newer Trigun show, figured I'd change up pace for just a moment lol. I like the dynamic here so hopefully something flourishes.

MAKE A MOVE ALREADY! --- Vash The Stampede

SUMMARY: This whole ignoring you thing has gotten out of hand maybe it's time you finally leave... Or so you thought.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Laughter bubbles into the air around the fire, you find it hilarious watching Meryl's face contort into disgust as Nick shoves a meat stick into her face. She reels back, a hand on his chest trying to push him away. "Ew. No!" She cries. Her and Roberto sit across from you while Nick moves to steal Vash's empty spot beside you.

From the truck, Vash watches Nick plop down beside you. In his hand is the same stick of meat he was torturing Meryl with and while that brought a smile to his face, seeing Nick throw an arm around your shoulder irked him. Normally this kind of thing wouldn't bother him but seeing you smiling and laughing while being so close to him... Suddenly you squeal. "Vash!" You try to push Nick away with your hands and lean your head away from him as much as you can. He's forcing the same stick of meat towards your face while you laugh and squeal hysterically, all while calling for Vash to do something.

Though he's disappointed by how easy it is for Nick to interact with you he jogs up and takes the stick of meat from Nick's hand with a grin. Whipping his head around, Nick gasps in betrayal. "Give it back!" He leaps up to grab his food back.

Nick jumps and grabs for the food in Vash's hand but he easily evades him and dances around him like a fool. Your laugh erupts in the background. "Payback!" Butterflies erupt in Vash's stomach. Just hearing your laugh and joyful voice makes his chest grow warm. he'd give anything to see you so happy like this all the time. He's so wrapped up in you that Wolfwood snatches back the food.

"If you keep acting like this... You'll get killed. Just tell them already. It's so obvious you like them."

Nick walked away so fast that Vash almost didn't catch what he said. This really was ruining Vash all over. Watching everyone interact with you so easily while he slunk away to be by himself in fear of exposing himself to you. That feels like that last thing he wants but knowing all of him is what he wants you to do. All of his secrets would be yourself and yours would be his. But no matter what, with all these hands on you, his stayed the farthest away while Nick stayed the closest.

You waved to him. "Vash, c'mon. Sit down." Patting the empty seat beside you, you gesture for him to sit down. Politely, Vash shakes his head. "I think I'll head to bed." He raises his hands defensively. "Night." Turning, he gives a small wave before stepping inside the truck.

Watching his walk away, you frown. Of everyone in the group he was the easiest to get along with yet he avoids you the most. You try so hard to get his attention or approval yet you get nothing in return. Beside you, Nick settles again. Tearing off a piece of meat he nudges you. "Go check on Needle-noggin."

"What? Me? No. I shouldn't." Anyone but you should do it. He would say much otherwise.

Nick motions to the truck. "Just do it."

Lowering your gaze to the ground, you sigh. Truth be told, Vash was the one who roped you into the group. Between everyone else and him, he feels more familiar than the others. It should be him that you're closer to, yet he avoids you like the plague. Even though these people have provided you with everything you need Vash is the only reason you wanted to stay. With him avoiding you, leaving felt more than easy to do, but you don't want to leave. Damn him.

"Fine." Placing your knees, you rise to your feet. "I'll be back."

Warmth from the fire fades as you reach the back door to the truck. Through the window you can see Vash leaned back in the seat, his head angles out the window opposite to you. Raising a hand you softly knock and open the door. "Hey."

Vash lifts his head to look at you. "oh, hey." He doesn't sound happy to see you. For a moment you debate just leaving and going back to the fire, but seeing him now only further fuels your reasoning for coming out here. Sliding into the seat you shut the door behind you. The silence that fills the truck is unnerving, it makes your stomach churn with unease. Just the way he's purposefully looking away from you is killing you. There has to be a reason why.

You take a deep breath. Your heart pounds in your chest and your throat feels dry. "Do you hate me?" The age old question that's been stuck on your mind.

Finally, Vash whips around to look at you. His eyes are wide, it's almost like he's shocked by what you said and he jumps to shoot your thoughts down. "No. I don't hate you. Not at all. What made you think that?"

You shift your gaze past him and out the window. "You avoid the fuck out of me." It only started a few weeks into traveling with everyone. It only got worse from there. "I really think you hate me."

Vash's face softens. The disappointment is written all over your face, he knows what he did. But just moments ago you were laughing and smiling along with everyone else. What brought on such a foul mood? Why did he have to see you so down?

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his hands. Stupid apologies won't solve the way he feels or the way you feel but he's trapped, if he tells you now the whole thing will be ruined and you'll leave on your own again. He'll be left alone without you there to pull him away from these sad things he feels, you're the only one who does that for him. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Vash." You look back at him. "Vash." He raises his head to meet your gaze. "The only reason I stayed was because of you. I only thought about leaving when you started ignoring me." Vash's heart feels like it's going to explode in his chest at any moment. Just hearing that from you makes him feel like he might seize. It's almost unbelievable that you would say something like that to him, The Humanoid Typhoon.

"Really?" He urges. "I had no clue. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?" His need to sate his own curiosity is of no use to him. What does matter is the way you feel and how he can fix it, regardless of how he feels.

"Maybe you could start by telling me why. Why would you ignore me?"

There it is, the question he hoped you wouldn't ask. All these emotions are too much for him to even handle right now. He can't possibly tell you the truth, you'll never feel the same.

Vash looks away and shakes his head. "I'll tell you some other time." A brief moment of silence passes over you before you explode.

"Vash. I have had enough of this 'everything's perfect' facade and 'I can't tell you' bullshit. I want to know the truth. If I did something you should just tell me." Your hand grabs his with a vice grip. "Just tell me, please."

When his eyes meet yours again, they're swimming with worry, while his are teaming with sadness. To see you so frustrated over such a simple thing makes his chest ache. If he just told you it might save you the turmoil, but... Fuck it. Just as he opens his mouth to spill his feelings to you, the passenger door opens. "Coming in. You two better not be making out or anything." Roberto announces.

Dread fills your body watching Roberto climb in, not even what he said brings the slightest blush to your face. Instead, you squeeze Vash's hand tighter and look back at him sternly. "You better tell me the next time we're alone."

Swallowing harshly with a nod he leans his head up against the glass. Slowly your hand slips from his and you quietly bid both of them goodnight as you slip out the truck. Vash felt nothing but guilt as he watched you go and all the willpower he felt to tell you went with. This really felt like a mistake.

--

You crossed paths with Meryl on your way back out to the fire. Nick was watching you, still sitting in the same spot as he had been before. Even knowing that Vash would tell you eventually, that didn't stop your want to leave from growing. Reaching the spot beside Nick, you quietly took a seat.

"Well?" He urges.

You shake your head. "When we reach the next city, I'm leaving."

Nick looks at you in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm sleeping out here tonight. Goodnight." Was all you said. Annoyed with Vash, Nick bid you goodnight and left back to the truck. Finally alone to yourself, staring up at the brilliantly lit night sky, you honestly considered packing and leaving now. What a better time to leave without the hassle of the other bugging you than now that they're asleep. You wait as long as you possibly can before you clamber up to the top of the truck where your belongings rest with the other. It lays directly beside Vash's bag, leaning up against it.

Throwing the bag over your shoulder, you slide off the truck. Taking a moment, you turn to gaze at the truck with a deep breath before you turn to make your way into the empty and dangerous desert. The quiet coldness of the air feels serene as you take your first step away. Just leaving like this feels bad but what other reason do you have to stay.

--

When the door opened and closed again, Vash peeked an eye open to see Nick glaring at him. He felt he was in for a lecture. But instead he leaned closer to him and began to whisper.

"You should be disappointed. They're leaving in the next city."

Vash's heart drops. "What?" It's like his world has stopped spinning entirely. "I'm going to talk to them." Nick grabbed Vash's hand to stop him.

"You're not going out there unless it's to confess blondie." Vash snatches his wrist from Nick's grasp. With a stern glare he pushes the door open. "Exactly."

That was Vash's plan until he got caught up behind the truck watching you from afar. You laid beside the fire staring up at the glowing sky. Just thinking about going out right saying it fills him with anxiety. If it's out of the blue it's no use, he would just have to convince you. He became caught up in the matters of thinking this over and before he knew it you were nowhere to be seen, until he noticed you on top of the truck. Diving to the ground he pushes himself under just in time to see your feet hit the ground where he just was.

When you started walking away he crawled from underneath the truck and started after you. As he reached you, he tapped your shoulder. You paused and spun around ready to fight. Realizing it was just him, you sighed with relief. "It's just you. I thought you were asleep." You hadn't even heard him leave the truck. Surely you would have.

Nervously, Vash offers you a smile. "And I thought you weren't leaving until the next city."

Your breath hitches in your throat. "Wolfwood told me." Vash admits.

You let your bag drop to the ground beside you. His face is lit softly by the glow of the worms over head. It only accentuates the color in his eyes now that hes not wearing his shades. Suddenly be begins to slip off his coat. "You look cold." He offers it to you. "Take this." You feel wrong to accept his offer but take it any way, the night air was starting to get to you. Pulling it on, you're overwhelmed by a strong floral smell and light musk. It's not bad by any means, and the coat is warm.

"Thanks."

Vash's heart leaps in his chest. Seeing you in his coat leaves his head soaring. He'd have you wear it all the time if he could. But not wanting to waste any more time he takes you by the hand and begins to lead you up hill towards the overhang that covers the truck. "What are you doing?"

His hand feels rightly placed within yours and the warmth is simply unforgettable. "Just wait." He tells you.

As you reach the tip of the overhang, a swift breeze blows past, flapping the end of the coat out behind you. Everything is visible along the horizon and the worms are closer than before making their light bright around you. Each one of them looks like stars that dot the sky. For a moment it makes you forget your unrest.

With his hand still in yours, Vash beckons you to sit down beside him. Happily taking his over you settle beside him. This is the closest you've ever sat to him without having to be in the truck and of his free will too. As strange as it feels it sits just right in your soul and everything feels right. The way his hand slips from yours and slides across your back to tug you closer. Both you stare out at the horizon in silence before acknowledging the other verbally. if you could you'd stay here forever.

"Can I tell you something?" Vash asks.

Instinctively you lean your head on his shoulder. "Yeah."

Feeling you rest your head against his shoulder, he tenses. Everything around him feels like he's under water. He's too scared to drown. Telling you would mean letting the water in but his lips can't stay sealed for much longer, the need to breathe is too much. He has to do it.

"The truth is..." You raise your head to look at him. "I've been avoiding you because I really like you and seeing everyone be able to interact with you so easily, especially Wolfwood, it bothers me." He looks down at you. "It's selfish that I want you all to myself but I can't have that if you leave. I really want you here, with me."

Your heart is pounding in your ears. "Selfish?" You question. "Is it really selfish if I want you too?"

Vash's eyes open wide with surprise while warmth fills his chest. "You actually like me back?"

With a playful grin you shove him. "Yeah. I would have left way sooner otherwise. I'm glad you stopped me."

He chuckles. "Wow. That's a relief." The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders for just a moment. With you by his side the world feels like it's just within his grasp. His arm wrapped around you and your hand grabbing his prosthetic one. The very thing he has been seeking was right here for all this time and he was just too scared to take a chance. That still leaves the plant matter in the air though. How would you react to that?

"There's some things I should probably tell you if you're going to be with me like that." At least now he could finally trade your secrets with his and hold you close like he had hoped he would.

Your eyes fall to his lips. "I won't mind, whatever it is. But I really want to-"

Before you can get the word out Vash's lips are already against yours. He's soft, his prosthetic hand slipping from yours to cup your face. Letting your eyes flutter closed, you melt against him. Just like before a strong floral smell engulfs you. You don't mind it though and instead allow yourself to melt into his touch.

"Thank you for staying." He says as he pulls away.

Resting your forehead against his, you smile. "I would have come back eventually."

[vshthestmpede]

Hi! I was hoping to request something with Vash where he’s in love with the reader but is too afraid to confess until suddenly the reader is badly hurt and Vash is potentially about to lose them forever??? I just love confessions in the middle of some kind of angst 😅 I love your writing so much, keep up the amazing work!

in a moment's notice - vash x reader

wc; 716 warnings; angst, near death experience note; writing this gave me many feelings ;-; posted to ao3 | masterlist

it was all just a freak accident.

a stray bullet, one hell of a mistake.

you were supposed to be hiding, just as you had promised you'd do whenever a fight breaks out. you were supposed to be far away, waiting for vash to come find you when everything died down.

yet there you were, eyes wide as you clutch your stomach and gasp out his name. vash's words get caught in his throat as you drop to your knees, red seeping through your top at an alarming rate. he hurried to your side, laying you down gently as he helped apply pressure to your wound with his hand over yours.

"you — (name), what —" vash couldn't find the words as he looked to meryl desperately.

"vash," you said softly, drawing his gaze back to you. you gave him a soft smile, reaching up and wiping at the hot tears that rolled down his cheeks.

"no, no, no, don't," vash choked out, the hand on your wound shaking as his other hand cradled the back of your head. "y-you're going to be fine, (name). everything's gonna be —" he took a deep breath, " — gonna be fine. just hold on, okay?"

your smile became one of pity, already having accepted your fate. the world around you was silenced, save for vash's quiet sniffling.

"it's not your fault, vash," you murmured, cupping his cheek and rubbing his cheekbone tenderly with your thumb. "i'm sorry i broke our promise."

"stop talking like that," vash begged, pressing his forehead to yours. "please, (name). i — i can't lose you. this life. . . i need you with me. just hold on, we'll get you help."

you sighed at his desperation, his need for optimism trying to shine through despite the dire situation. vash's tears dripped from his face to yours as his body shook with silent sobs.

"vash —"

"please don't go, (name)," vash interrupted. "i love you. i can't imagine going through this life without you. i beg of you, stay with me."

you couldn't tell if it was the blood loss or the confession that was just dropped on you but time seemed to come to a halt. you stared off, completely losing focus. the next thing you know, vash is being pulled off you and you're being carted off somewhere. with your mind reeling, the world around you goes dark.

you come to hours later, finding yourself propped up in a soft bed and surrounded by your friends. meryl and vash both perked up when they noticed you stir, vash at your side in the blink of an eye. you looked up at him with a tired smile, his desperate confession ever present in your mind.

"um." you cleared your throat, looking to meryl, nicholas, and roberto. "can you guys give us a minute, please?"

while nick and roberto nodded and left as soon as you asked, meryl looked between you and vash before her eyebrows shot up and she nodded slowly, following the other two and closing the door behind her.

"i'm so glad you're okay," vash blurted out instantly, kneeling at your bedside. "i was so scared i lost you —"

" — you love me?"

vash stopped, slack jawed and a red tint to his cheeks as he stumbled over his words. he looked sheepish, as if he didn't expect his words to be thrown back at him.

"i — well, i mean," vash mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "yeah, i'll admit the execution of that confession wasn't my finest work but i meant every word."

you smiled, reaching out and grabbing his hand. you brought his knuckles to your lips and gave a gentle kiss, then turned his hand over and kissed his palm. vash watched you with wide eyes, swallowing loudly as his whole face turned a deep shade of red.

"you've no idea how i've longed to hear those words," you admitted with a grin. "though i would've preferred my near death not to be the reason you confessed, i'm glad to have heard them nonetheless."

vash chuckled nervously, moving his hand up to the back of your neck as he moved closer to you. you could sense the nerves and closed the gap between you two, gripping the collar of his jacket as your lips met.

[finnpeach]

Memory - Trigun Stampede

guess who's still going on about trigun stampede. anyway we aren't surprised, here's our favourite eulogist wolfwood with a cold and being a big grump to vash (with a touch of angst because if it's a finnpeach fic there will be angst). comments, tags, and feedback always loved and giggled over <3

once again set between episode 4 and 5, but slight spoilers if you haven't seen episode 6 :)

It takes two days for them to get closer to the next outpost after their second encounter with a worm. On the way, they ran into a couple of travelers that needed help, and Vash obviously insisted they stop and assist them. The next day when they set out again, the car broke down and Roberto and Vash had to spend the whole day trying to fix it until it ran again. 

Wolfwood had started feeling a dull ache in his head and a soreness in his throat the night they escaped the first worm. He chalked it up to being dehydrated, but when he woke up the next morning with a throbbing pain in his sinuses and a cough in his chest, he knew he’d caught a cold. 

He hasn’t been sick since his days at the orphanage. Frankly, he doesn’t even know how he got sick, but guesses he picked something up when they were inside the worm, or just simply from over exhausting himself the past few days. Either way, he feels like shit and is starting to lose his capacity for hiding it.

Vash, of course, is the first to notice. They’re sitting in the backseat of the vehicle, watching the next outpost grow closer when the first sneeze of many sneaks up on Wolfwood. He has barely enough time to rip the cigarette out of his mouth before—

“Huh’EGhZTSSHh!” He steeples his hands over his nose and mouth, cigarette pinched between his pointer and middle finger as he pitches forward in the seat. Ugh, that had hurt his throat. Wolfwood slumps back into the seat with a sniffle and rubs at his nose, beginning to feel miserable.

“Are you okay?” There comes that soft, sensitive voice, dripping with genuine concern. Wolfwood fights the urge to roll his eyes. Vash is looking at him with an inquisitive gaze, leaning forward slightly towards him as if to get a better look.

Wolfwood grits his teeth. “I’mb fide,” he mutters, hating that his voice is already thick with congestion. He places the cigarette against his lips and puffs out a cloud of smoke in an irritated huff. Meryl and Roberto are bickering away up front, oblivious to their conversation. 

“You shouldn’t smoke if you have a cold.” 

God, does he ever let up? “I told you I’mb fide, needle-noggid, let it go. It was just a sdneeze.”

He takes another long drag from his cigarette. Unfortunately, he does not prove his point. The smoke catches in his throat and sends him into a coughing fit. 

Suddenly, there’s a hand against his back, patting him through the fit. It’s surprising enough to distract him from the tightness in his throat and make the coughs subside.  

Vash is smiling at him, his hand extended across Wolfwood’s back. Wolfwood slaps at his wrist with a growl and turns back towards the window. He wishes Vash would just leave him alone. 

Hurt, Vash whimpers a little and rubs his wrist. He aches to do something for him, but decides it’s best to leave Wolfwood be for a bit, lest he gets bitten.

They decide to make camp about a half a mile from the outpost. It’s getting late and they don’t want to sneak into the town when there’s likely to be police or headhunters crawling about at night. Meryl and Roberto busy themselves with the sleeping rolls and dinner while Vash and Wolfwood set up the fire. 

The sneezing has only coupled in frequency since they’ve stopped to make camp. He’s had to forgo carrying around his cross just to make sure he doesn’t slip a disc every time a sneeze makes him pitch forward.

“Hh’EGHTSHHhh! Hh’EHGXSTh’huh!” Wolfwood nearly drops the firewood that time, stumbling forward in the sand. Vash is there in an instant and steadies him with a hand to his shoulder. 

Wolfwood shakes his head and tosses the firewood down. “Thagks,” he mumbles, coughing offhandedly into his wrist. His sinuses feel heavy with snot and his throat is killing him. He wishes the sand would swallow him whole right now.

Vash passes him a water flask and Wolfwood hesitates a second as he unscrews the cap. He doesn’t want to get everyone else sick if they share the flask, so he decides to waterfall it instead.

“See? I knew it.” Vash says with an elated grin, noticing Wolfwood’s caution. He looks like a kid who just guessed a riddle correctly. “You are sick. You should—“

“You should mind your own business, blondie. Leave me alone.” Wolfwood thrusts the flask against Vash’s chest and crouches down to arrange the firewood. His head is pounding. He’d like nothing more than to get out of this sun and lay down in a nice bed, or take a bath, or anything rather than be out here in the sweltering desert with a cold that’s growing worse by the minute. He lights a piece of newspaper on fire and sets it amongst the wood, watching as the sparks float up into the sunset sky.

Vash, despite looking like a puppy that’s been kicked, leaves him alone and heads over to Meryl and Roberto. They exchange some words, and then Vash is gone.

Good riddance, Wolfwood thinks. Maybe now he can sneeze in peace without being fussed over. He lights another cigarette and sits down by the fire. The smoke tingles in his sinuses as he inhales and he ends up sneezing again. 

“Huh’EHDSSHhT’chuh! Hih.. hih’EHDZSSH’YUE! Hhh.. he’eh…!” He catches the loud, grating sneezes into his hands, biting the cigarette between his teeth. The last one leaves him hanging, sitting there with his head tilted back, eyebrows twitching in sneezy irritation, the cigarette dangling on his bottom lip. When it still doesn’t come, he decides to try something that used to work when he was younger. He taps the side of his nose and the effect is immediate. 

“H’EHTSssHhh’ue! Heh’EHDTZzSSH’huh!” He doesn’t have enough time to cover and the cigarette shoots out of his mouth with the final spraying sneeze, landing pathetically in the sand. His shades are askew on his nose, which has started to run profusely. To add insult to injury, his sneezes have gathered attention again.

“Jeez, Wolfwood, that sounds bad. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Meryl asks as she unrolls her bed roll a few feet away from the fire. Roberto does the same. He’s not looking at Wolfwood, but he’s clearly listening.

“Will you all just shut up? I’b fide. Drop it.” He pulls his cigarette pack out of his pocket and clicks his tongue against his teeth when he sees that there’s none left. 

He turns to Roberto, who is currently taking a heavy drag off his own cigarette. “Hey, you got another cigarette I can borrow?” 

“Sorry, kid, but Vash told me not to give you one till your cold gets better.” Roberto chuckles as Wolfwood's face twists in pure rage. 

“Where is needle-noggid adyway?” Wolfwood sniffles back his congestion. He despises how hoarse his voice is starting to sound. 

“He didn’t tell you? He went into town to get medicine. Should be back soon,” Meryl says as she passes around cans of stew. It’s their meagre dinner for the evening until they can resupply at the next town.

Wolfwood wants to rip his hair out. He can literally feel the irritation and anger bubbling in him like hot steam in a teapot. How many times does he have to tell him to fuck off? He doesn’t need medicine, and he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. He rejects the proffered can of stew and opts to lay down on his bedroll, wishing sleep would take him and get him away from these people that care too much. 

After about an hour or so of laying there feeling sorry for himself, Vash reappears above him. The sun has nearly completely set, save for a few strokes of pink and red that paint the sky.

Vash looks down at him with a soft, gentle grin. Wolfwood wants to smack the smile off his face. 

“Hey, Wolfwood, I got you some medicine from the town. You should take it so you don’t get worse.” Vash hands him a little packet of pills and the water flask again. 

Wolfwood is beyond fighting at this point. His muscles ache with fatigue, and a sinus headache is starting to creep up on him. He takes two of the pills and downs them with the water before flopping back down on his bedroll again. It’s starting to get cold now that the sun is down, though it could be a fever settling in. Either way, he wraps his arms around himself and scoots closer to the fire as Vash and Meryl and Roberto start chatting. Above, the sky is bright with millions of twinkling stars, and the moon casts her soft luminescent gleams over them. His eyes grow heavy and his breathing starts to deepen. Wolfwood lets the sound of their conversation and the crackle of the fire lull him to sleep. 

He dreams for the first time in a while. He’s a child again and is back at the orphanage. He’s alone, laying in the infirmary with only a thin blanket to stop the shivers that rack his entire body. It’s so cold. 

This is a distant memory to him. Everything seems cloudy, grey, hazy. He can’t make sense of it. Had it happened this way? He’d had a high fever, and was quarantined away from the other children. Only one managed to sneak in to see him.

“Nico?” Comes a small, cautious voice. What was once a dim, grey memory now bursts alight with colour in his presence.

“L-Livio,” he says through chattering teeth. Livio is standing beside the bed, unsure. He’s never wandered somewhere unknown without Wolfwood. How did he get into the infirmary? 

“G-Go away, you’ll get sick.” He coughs into his fist, twisting away from the other boy as much as possible. 

Livio doesn’t answer, just stares at Wolfwood with his big owl eyes and looks him over. Silently, he climbs into bed under the blanket and curls against his friend’s side. His face nuzzles against Wolfwood’s neck as he wraps his smaller body around him. 

Warmth spreads through his body as if he’s being caressed by the summer sun. The shivers slowly start to subside, no match against the warmth, as he relaxes against Livio. 

Yes, this is exactly how it happened. 

Except, his grey hair is starting to tickle his nose, and the sensation is so real that it wakes him up. 

Wolfwood awakes with a start. “Livio?” Where is he?

He takes a moment to gather his bearings. He’s not at the orphanage, he’s camped out under the stars with two journalists and an outlaw. Right. 

The burning itch in his nose is back. Something feathery and blonde is tickling his nostrils, and he looks down to see someone nestled against his shoulder, their body curled around his. Its owner is snoring softly beneath him. 

Vash?!

“H’EGhNXT’shh!” Wolfwood sneezes as the tickle becomes too strong, twisting his head to the side so he doesn’t sneeze all over Vash. Anger sparks in his chest like a fuse.

Wolfwood shoves the sleeping Vash off of him and scrambles away. The cold is eager to reclaim him and seeps into his body in an instant.  

“Vash! What the fuck?!” He hisses, like water pouring over coals.

Vash gives a little start and shakes his head. “Huh…?” He gazes up at Wolfwood with sleepy, confused eyes. He seems surprised to suddenly find himself laying on the ground. 

“Why were you sleeping on me?!” There’s a heavy weight across his body. Wolfwood looks down to see Vash’s red coat lying across him, keeping out the cold desert air. 

Vash yawns and rubs his eyes. “You were shivering, so I came over to keep you warm. And you were talking in your sleep for a while. Who’s Livio?” 

Wolfwood feels panic rise within him at hearing someone speak Livio’s name. He grabs the red coat and tosses it at Vash’s face, who doesn’t catch it in time and ends up wrestling the coat off his head, falling onto his back.

“No one. Go back to sleep,” he growls, turning onto his side so his back is facing Vash. He wants to forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to that dream. And now that he’s awake, he’s rudely reminded of how sick he feels.

He shivers involuntarily when a sharp breeze howls against his back, the sensation chilling him to the bone. Wolfwood sniffles and tries to ignore the fact that he needs to sneeze again. He pinches his nose, rubs it angrily against his sleeve, but it’s no good. 

“Hih’EDTZSSHhh’uh!” He tents his hands over his nose again to catch the wet sneeze. He sniffles thickly and coughs, his eyes brimming with irritated tears. Suddenly, there’s a heavy weight placed down gently across him. Wolfwood opens his eyes to see Vash tucking his red coat around the curve of his body.

“I told you I dod’t need—“

“Just sleep with it tonight, okay? You do need it.” His tone is firm, commanding. It’s so different from his typical soft, kind voice. It leaves no room for argument. Vash tucks in one final corner around his hips before laying back down again. 

Wolfwood relents and decides that being warm under Vash’s coat beats shivering all night long. He tucks his chin under the coat and closes his tired eyes, feeling himself dragged into sleep like a helpless rowboat at sea. As his mind starts to teeter between reality and sleep, he lets his dreams wander back to Livio again, and returns to the peaceful embrace of memory.

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 48. brb x oc

a/n: glad to say im happier with this chapter :)

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: FLUFF, Bradley being horny but it's not smut is just a dab of suggestive really

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47

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-

“So,” he begins watching Beatrice place the ornaments on her tree, which wasn’t that big it barely reached his chest, “Your aunt Martha and your father are twins.” she nods, smiling, ripping a box of christmas balls open and turning the small tree around to expose the other side, “And they are the oldest.”

“Yes, then you get my uncle Roberto, then my uncle Elia, my aunt Yvette and my aunt Regina, who’s the Bitch Trio’s mother.” she scoffs, shaking her head, “And my mom has my aunts Fabrizzia, Fernanda, Maria and my uncles Luis and Marcelo. So both sides have a lot of siblings.”

Rooster arched his eyebrows with wonder, trying to figure out how the hell was her childhood like since she had so many aunts and uncles. He doesn’t know how the subject of her family showed up, maybe it was because she was talking about how Christmas was the time they’d all spend together. He knew some people had a lot of relatives, but honestly, he never met one until Beatrice. 

“That’s…a whole lot of people.” she nods while laughing, still arranging her ornaments and thanking him when he hands her another box, “Were they at the wedding? Your mother’s siblings I mean.”

“Some of them were.” Beatrice explains, “Some lived out of state and couldn’t come. They all know my paternal family from childhood, my parents grew up in the same street.” she smiles, adjusting herself on her knees so she’d get a higher branch “And my dad’s move, if you want to call it that, was during a basketball game against the girls from the neighborhood was to steal the ball from my mom’s hand. They started dating soon after.” 

Bradley smiles seeing how her voice softened when speaking about her parents, he knows the feeling, he does get the same way talking about his own, “That’s really sweet.” he doesn’t know much about how his parents met, he didn’t ask his mother especially since it’d bring back painful memories, but Mav always said it was very sweet no matter what. So he accepted that instead of questioning her about it. “And they’ve been together ever since.”

“They have. I mean, they are both sixty-five so…” she counts on her fingers, muttering the numbers to herself, “Forty-eight years? If you count the time they started dating.” 

“That’s a long time.”

“It is, my dad always said he knew they’d get married.” she smiles, shrugging her shoulders, “I always thought it was very romantic.” but before she could complete her sentence, she winced in pain, one of her hands touching her womb with a frown, “Ah, damn it.”

Rooster straightened immediately, “What’s wrong? Everything okay?”

“Yeah,I’m on my period.” she groaned, slowly pushing herself to her feet so she could walk to the kitchen, “My period cramps can be really strong sometimes. I’ll be fine, it’s just a matter of getting something warm.” 

Ah, that explains why she was so tired yesterday when he came over and just fell asleep the second they got back from the Hard Deck. Bradley followed her into the kitchen, frowning when she just held her middle and pressed her forehead on the sink’s cool countertop, “What do you need? I can get it for you.”

“No,no, it’s okay.” she says quickly, “I can do it.”

But he wasn’t convinced, he just stepped closer to her, “Bea,” she groaned again, biting her lower lip, “Maybe you should lie down, I can make you some tea or whatever is it you need.” his girlfriend makes an annoyed noise “How bad is it?”

“It’s like a baby t-rex chewing my insides, Rooster.” her tone was a bit snappy, but he knew she wasn’t mad at him, she then whimpered, turning her body towards him and hugging his middle to which he reciprocated with his arms around her shoulders, “Having a uterus really sucks.” he chuffed out a soft laugh, biting his lip when she glowered up at him with her eyebrows low and lips furled down into a scowl, “Don’t laugh at my demise.”

He held his hands up defensively, “Sorry, sorry, you are right. I shouldn’t do that.” he then leaned down to pick her up by the back of her legs, which immediately wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, Beatrice sighing in relief when he did, “You okay?”

“You are very warm.” comes her muffled voice from his shoulder, pressing herself even tighter against him, “It helps.” well, if it helped he already knew what to do. He took the two of them to her living room and settled onto the couch, still holding her in his arms. Jolene’s sleeping form peeks one eye open when she feels movement in her favored furniture, but relaxes when she sees it’s her two favorite humans who sat down.

He wasn’t the type of guy who wouldn’t understand how painful these things are. His mother raised him to know, respect and understand what a period was. Rooster grew up knowing more than half the guys of his class just because his mother made sure it was something everyone should know. He knew some women had stronger flows to the point they had to go to the hospital, but he wasn’t sure if that was Beatrice’s case, she just seemed to be in a lot of pain but not enough that it was dangerous.

And if he could be her own heating pad, he wasn’t complaining.

Every now and again she’d moan out a soft complaint and hold herself closer to him, curling onto a ball against his chest as the cramps pulsated through her body but then she’d relax and sigh heavily, warming his skin when she did so. Bradley just kissed the top of her head, rubbed her lower back in slow circles knowing it could be helpful “That’s nice.” she mutters, turning her head to look at him from his shoulder.

He smiles, facing her with his hand still moving, “Good, I’m trying my best.” He says, “Is it helping?” she pauses a minute to think, her face scrunching in pain briefly but she nods, “Do you need me to do anything else?” 

“No, just stay here.” she murmurs,tucking her arms between his chest and hers, breathing in his cologne deeply and easing out the breath through her lips “That’s good enough.”

“You sure?”

“Roos, I can’t really understand what you are asking me because I’m trying not to die. So please just, just stay there.”

Bradley couldn’t help the soft chuckle that made its way past his lips, but he kept his hands on her either way. He doesn’t know how long they stay there, just sitting on the couch listening to the sounds from outside and Jolene’s quiet breathing next to them. But Beatrice eventually relaxed completely, rubbing her face with both hands and breathing hard against her palms, dragging them down her face so her eyes could blink up at him, bleary and a bit unfocused.

His brown eyes soften once they meet gazes, tucking a few strands of brown hair behind her ear, “Hey, gorgeous.” she smiles sweetly, leaning into his palm when he cups her cheek, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m better, thank you.” comes her quiet reply as she gives him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry for snapping at you.” it wasn’t even that bad, he thought, but she thought she probably hurt his feelings by lashing out because of the pain.

“Bea, it’s okay. You are in pain and you don’t know how to deal with it.” he shrugs, “So you have some anger because of it. That’s fine?” she makes a quiet noise, furrowing her eyebrows with a look that clearly meant if he was really sure. Bradley tsks, leaning his lower back deeper into the couch and unwrapping her legs from his waist so she could sit sideways on his lap, “It’s fine, Bea. I promise, you didn’t hurt my feelings.”

Beatrice chews her lower lip, dropping her temple on his collarbone as she sighs, “Okay…if you are sure.”

“I’m more than sure.” he chuckles, kissing the top of her head, “You’d need to do a lot more for me to get upset at you. This isn’t something you plan, baby. You can’t plan when it’ll hurt a lot to the point you’ll get too angry and will tell someone to fuck off.” Beatrice giggles gently when he says it, making his chest swell with relief “So, you don’t have to worry. Okay?”

“Okay…” she replies, pressing her cheek to his collarbones, smiling sweetly as she plays with the buttons of his Hawaiian shirt, “You are so understanding.” she comments casually, “Not a lot of guys are.”

He purses his lips, rubbing his thumb on the outer side of her denim covered thigh,” Well, not a lot of guys were raised with a mom like mine.” he laughs, “She set me up for what I’d encounter when I got older, so, “ he finishes his explanation with a shrug, “It’s easier to understand.”

Beatrice looks up at him with hearts in her eyes, her cheeks reddening with a little smile forming over her lips as she stares at his face, not being able to contain how her chest warmed up whenever he spoke. How the hell did she get so lucky? Beatrice leans up to kiss his chin, right on top of the tiny scars he had there, making her way up to his lips, humming happily when they touched, “I still appreciate it.” she says sweetly, “It means a lot to me.”

He knew what she meant, he knew that the reason why she appreciated it so much was because she had a shitty ex who wouldn’t help her out. She never voiced it, but he knew - especially considering what he managed to find out about him- what that piece of shit had done to her before. 

Speaking of which, he also explained to Shells that the red truck had nothing to do with Eric. She was very surprised and confused, as he was when he found out about it, but said that even if it wasn’t related to Eric it was still weird he was trying to win Beatrice over. Of course she used a more colorful language when referring to his antics, repeating she wanted to beat him up and that it was part of their deal.

He hoped that Eric wouldn't show up for a while,Damon said he’d be in the Bahamas or whatever was that he left, as long as he stayed away from Beatrice he’d be fine with it. 

He helped her finish decorating her house, always close to her in case she felt too much pain or just needed a pause. He actually had a lot of fun and since he was taller than she was he could reach areas she had issues with, like above her doors and the windows on the loft.

Beatrice’s soft gasp and clasped hands as she looked around made his heart flutter with affection, she looked so happy, the complete opposite from a few minutes ago and even if she was in pain she didn’t seem to care, “Gosh, it looks!! So good Roos!” she claps her hands excitedly, “Oh I’m so, so happy! Thank you for helping me!”

Bradley just smiles, approaching her from behind to hug her waist, kissing her cheekbone with a soft smack “Anytime, gorgeous. I’m happy I could help.” she’s gently touching her Christmas tree, watching the transparent ornament with the rooster inside move after she nudged it. She leans into his embrace when he drops his chin to her shoulder, moving some hair out of the way so he could kiss her lavender scented neck.

“You did more than you know.” she smiles, turning her head to meet his lips halfway, pulling back when he tries to deepen it, stepping away from his grasp so she could walk back to the kitchen, “Stop looking at my ass.” she calls without turning back, but her boyfriend indeed was looking without any remorse.

“It’s not my fault it’s so nice.” he tries to explain, leaning on the kitchen’s door frame with his hands in his pockets, biting his lower lip with his eyes following her movements around the kitchen, “And just out there for me to look.” Beatrice’s eyes narrow in his direction but her smile is still present as she warms water in her electric kettle, grabbing a tea bag from the cabinet. 

Beatrice shakes her head amusedly, smiling more when his arms return around her waist and he watches with interest as she prepares her tea, “You are terrible.” she says softly, “But I guess that’s why I love you.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, then another to her cheek, “I thought it was because of my breathtaking good looks.” oh he’d never let that live down would he? Beatrice laughs quietly, trying to ignore him the best she could but he was never one to be easily ignored, no matter what, “Or was it something else?”

“I think…I don’t know,” she shrugs, “You are really handsome, and musically talented…but I don’t know, I really liked how you were with your friends I guess. I really liked your smile the first time I saw it.” Beatrice’s cheeks return to it’s usual crimson color as she remembers the scene of him showing up and hugging Payback with a laugh leaving his lips, “And I don’t know, everything else that came after…I really like your hands too.”

“My hands?” she nods, grabbing the said limbs from around her to hold them up, running her fingers on the back of his hands, following the tendons until it reached his wrists. 

“They are very nice.” she says, still drawing random lines on his skin, “And I l-like how um…” she placed her hand on top of his, the size comparison was enough to make her whole body shudder “H-How….. big…..they are.” she said the word so silently he almost didn’t hear her. But he did and he couldn’t help the smirk forming over his lips.

The said big hands returned to her waist, following the tapered part down the flare of her hips, squeezing the meaty part there enough to make her squeak, “Do you?” Beatrice nods mutely, chewing her lower lip with her face red, “That’s news to me.” but he wasn’t mad about it, not at all, this new information could be very useful in the future even more than it already was. The brunette just busies herself in pouring the hot water inside her mug instead of her boyfriend’s known teasing nature. “What else is it that you like about me? I’m so curious now.”

Bea scoffs with a grin, rolling her eyes, “You already know I like everything else about you.”

“Yes, but be specific.” he smiles, “If you could.”

She looks towards him over her shoulder, squinting her eyes playfully at his boyish smirk and amused face, sighing in defeat, “Well…I like your eyes too. And…your neck.” her green irises drop to the column of his throat that was never hidden from her hungry eyes “I really like your neck.”

He was reminded of their first time when she bit his trapezius, the perfect indentations of her teeth were deep on his skin. Clearly not enough to break it, but the bruise stayed there for a good month before it disappeared for real and God it was such a nice souvenir to have when he was gone. Bradley makes a sound deep in his throat, pressing little kisses to her jawline, “Hmm, yeah,I remember it.” he chuckles, nosing the curve of her neck “Anythin’ else? I’m all ears.”

“You are a menace no matter where I look at ,Bradley.” she giggles softly, earning a laugh from him as well and another series of quick kisses to her jawline.

“Do you want to know what’s my favorite part about you?”

“My ass?”

“That too, but,” he taps her ass cheek gently, “I really love your eyes.” The said eyes turn to look at him, long thick lashes fluttering when she blinks, “Yeah, “he whistles low, “Look at those emeralds.” Beatrice gasps out a laugh, repeating the word as if she couldn’t believe it, her cheeks turning into a deeper shade of red than before. “I meant it when I said all you had to do was look at me and I was a goner.”

Beatrice’s gaze mellowed when he spoke, her heart fluttering with butterflies like always, “...yeah I remember.” she whispers, thumbing her mug’s ring over and over as she looks down at her tea, “No one…ever called them that, you know? Emeralds. They always said they were pretty or…” she shrugs “I don’t know it’s…it’s really nice to hear.”

Bradley’s smile softens and he hugs her closer to his chest, closing his eyes as he buries his nose on her neck, “I have a lot of these saved, just for you gorgeous.” he mutters against her skin. He meant that too, if he could tell her all the compliments he had saved up for her he’d never stop talking. Beatrice was sweet, so incredibly sweet and it hurt him to know she hasn’t been complimented or shown that sort of affection before, he knows sometimes she feels awkward when receiving them, her blush is stronger and she tries to play it off but she needs to hear how truthfully beautiful she is.

He waits for her to take a sip from her tea then set the mug back down, “Alright, now.” he picks her up bridal style without warning, making Bea squeak out a yelp of surprise, holding herself up by hugging his neck, “Grab your mug,” he leans close enough for her to get it while still smiling, “And we are going to watch some more Drag Race, how’s that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-

Beatrice was surprised when she saw Evelyn’s tall frame walking inside the Hard Deck, casually, hands in her jacket’s pockets as she strolled in with her face in a neutral mask, “Ev?” the other woman smiles, lifting her hand in a greeting, “Well, that’s a surprise! What are you doing here?”

Evelyn settles herself on the stool in front of the bar with a soft sigh, then interlaces her fingers on the bartop, “Was in the neighborhood.” she says, giving Penny a nod as a greeting. Beatrice stares at her while she’s wiping a glass, then back to where Rooster and the others were sitting, Jake hasn’t noticed her yet - if he did he played it off really well.

“Yeah?” the brunette smiles, grabbing a water bottle for her friend who immediately opened it to take a sip,”It’s just you’ve been coming…a lot, you know? Shells told me you’ve showed up…um a lot more than you usually would, which was…never.” her friend just sipped her water in response, not answering. Beatrice could see it, even if Evelyn didn’t, that the sudden interest of her coming to the Hard Deck had anything to do with the atmosphere or how she was ‘in the neighborhood’ as she said.

It was all about Jake and herself. And Beatrice’s romantic little heart couldn’t handle how happy she was for her friend. She hoped really hard that whatever this thing with Jake that was currently being developed worked, because he really seems to like her and Evelyn, even in her cool façade, seemed to like him too even if it was a little bit.

“Actually, there’s a reason I came here.” Evelyn says when Shells approaches the bar top, setting the tray down so Beatrice could place the glasses, “We wanna go to the Shootout tomorrow.”

Shootout was a paintball arena close to Northride and one of their favorite pastimes during the weekends if the volleyball practices weren’t available. It was probably the wildes, craziest fun any of them had together, not to mention that the Shootdown was close to The Den so that meant they’d always leave and have a snack before going back to the dorms.

And they would be open until nine pm during weekends.

“Oh, I’m in!”Shells says with a huge smile, bouncing on the spot, “Are you kidding me? How long has it been since we went to Shootout?”

“They were expanding the arena during our final year,” Beatrice adds, “It seems super fun.Is everyone going?” Evelyn nods and Bea looks back at Shells with a little smile, “I’m in too. I’ll just have to talk to Roos about it.”

Shells looks back at the officers, jutting her thumb in their direction, “They could join us,” she suggests, ‘Hey the more the fucking merrier, right? Plus it’ll be amazing to have so many people in a team.”

Beatrice hasn’t considered it, but thinking about it it really seems like a cool idea, she turned her head towards Evelyn to check her reaction and her friend just seemed…neutral. No anger nor surprise, just a neutral cool façade as she took in the news and then she nodded. Wow, she must really be liking Jake because she wouldn’t say yes otherwise. Bea bites her lower lip, letting Shells know she’d tell them she had to take their drinks there anyway.

Once she walks out from behind the bar, Rooster immediately perks up, “Hi,” he coos as she walks past him, his body leaning closer as he holds on the pool cue, trying to follow her with his head, “Aren’t you a sight to sore eyes?”

Beatrice just gives him an eyeroll before giving everyone else their drinks, completely ignoring his antics the best she could, “Evelyn is here,” Jake’s head immediately turned to the bar counter where she was, sipping her water and talking to Penny, “She invited us to go to the Shootout, are any of you interested?”

It was Fanboy who answered, his eyes widening, “Wait, the paintball arena?!” Beatrice nods, smiling at the pilot’s enthusiasm, “I’ve always wanted to go there!” Soon enough it’s a cacophony of supportive answers and positive reactions, they all were game to join. Beatrice sent Shells a smile and a nod, to which the blonde pumped her fist in the air with triumph.

“I’ll let you guys know what time we plan on going,” she says grinning, “It’ll be a lot of fun.”

When the brunette turned to Bradley, who was still looking at her with his eyes low and mouth curved into a little smirk, putting the cue away to follow her back to the bar, “Those pants should be illegal.” she hears him say, quiet enough that only they could hear and Beatrice rolls her eyes again, setting the tray down the bar top.

“If they were that means I’d never wear them again, is that what you want?” she asks casually, but seeing how he just dropped his eyes down the length of her legs she already got her answer. She chuckles, walking around the bar as Rooster sits down in the usual stool he always chose when he wanted to be closer to Beatrice, Shells and Evelyn talking not too far from them.

“So, when were you going to tell me,” he begins, leaning on a hand, “That you liked paintball?”

Beatrice laughs, fixing the bun on top of her head with a shrug, “Oh,I don’t know, I guess it slipped my mind, you know?” he hums, not believing, “I mean, it’ll be fun, we all will have a lot of fun there. And then we can go to The Den, you guys will love it there. It’s the food joint I told you about, it’s right in front of our college.”

Bradley arches his eyebrows, “Really? I didn’t know that.” he was curious now, he had only seen her college’s colors at the game, and the obvious hyena mascot, but he had never seen the actual college itself. Plus, Beatrice seemed very excited, why wouldn’t he be excited too, “So…” he looks around the bar conspicuously, leaning on his forearms, “Shall we make another prize ticket, gorgeous? I could be wrong but I don’t think you’ve used yours yet.”

His girlfriend stilled momentarily but she bit back her smile the best she could, “I’m saving it up.” she explains with a shrug, “Plus what if I win again? Would it be fair to have two tickets in my power?”

He chuckles, dragging his eyes down her body with a soft whistle leaving his lips, “Maybe I’ll win this time.” he says, shrugging, “Make it a bit interesting you know?...but I won’t use it now, I know you are,” he makes a gesture with his hands, referring to her obvious cramps “But I can save it up, just like you are.”

Beatrice’s eyes soften and her smile widens, “You are too sweet, thank you Roos.” he smiles back, his cheeks flushing just the tiniest bit,”But…I’ll think about it, you know? We'll see how it goes tomorrow.” she explains while filling a glass and handing it to Penny who walks out from behind the counter leaving her and Shells to take care of it.

He leans on a fist, following Beatrice with his eyes as she moves about, “It’s just because I still have that idea,” he taps his temple, “Deep within you know? Can’t get it out of my head…I can give you a hint if you’d like, maybe it’ll make you think that winning isn’t that important–”

“Bradley Bradshaw,” she says quietly, feigning offense, “You will not bribe me with whatever it is you are planning, we’ll have to do this the old way, following the rules.”

Evelyn and Shells watch the scene from the other side of the bar, smiling at the interaction with the blonde shaking her head, “God, they are disgusting.” she chuckles, “...but she looks so happy.”

“She does.” Evelyn smiles, her eyes traveling from the couple to a known Texan pilot who was already looking her way, which makes the black haired woman snatch her eyes back in a panic. But Shells sees it and she just smirks down at her.

“You know, you can come up with a lot of excuses as to why you are suddenly interested in coming to this Navy bar,” Shells begins, grabbing another water bottle for Evelyn, “But I know that you know that I know, that it’s because of Hangman.”

Evelyn freezes up, her brown eyes narrowing menacingly towards her friend who looked like the cat who just ate the canary. She parts her lips but nothing comes out, which makes Shells look so infuriatingly pleased that Evelyn feels even more annoyed, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on Simpson, admit it,” she grins, leaning on a fist, “You like him.” Evelyn’s eyes widened again, panic returning as she stares up at the blonde woman, the hold on the water bottle so tight the plastic creaks under her grasp, “Or better yet, let’s make it interesting…we’ll both be in the same team tomorrow but the first one that reaches twenty hit points against the opposite team gets to snatch an answer from the other.”

“What would I even know about you?” Evelyn asks, narrowing her eyes when Shells shrugs.

“I don’t know, I have some skeletons in my closet that not even my aunt knows about.” she holds out her hand wiggling her fingers, “Come on Simpson, is that fear in your eyes? Huh?” Evelyn looks from her hand to her face, jaw moving as she considers it before she sighs heavily and clasps it tightly, holding it for a few seconds then letting it go.

“Deal.” Evelyn mutters, “Best of three rounds?”

Shells smirk only widens, “Best of three.”

[triplesilverstar]

Right, the steamer used to be a ship. Damn.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X Female character

CW: Gun violence, bleeding, serious injury, death, deception, screw physics 

Word count: Roughly 3K 

A/N: Chapter four of And the hits keep on coming

From one fire to another, none of you get a chance to process what just happened to Livio. Instead you need to figure out a way to stop an out of control sand streamer. What else could go wrong?

None of you get much of a reprieve as dawn comes, the overhead announcement telling you things are still shitty. If anything it’s gone from bad to worse. “Times running out, if we don’t do something soon we’ll hit Hopeland, if going at the speed we’re stuck at it, it will level the entire town.” 

Still partially tucked against Vash while the others are looking over the side of the sand steamer, who the hell is making such announcements over the open communications? It sure as hell wouldn’t be all that reassuring to the passengers to hear, it sure as hell isn’t reassuring to your own little group. 

“Mayfly” you nod against Vash, the concern he has for you dripping from that one word. He knows why you’re beyond upset, and he’s more than smart enough to not voice it. “Do you need to get somewhere safe?”

“I am safe, Vash. Just.” You swallow, fingers gripping his shirt. “Just give me a moment. Please.” As low as you had once been, the one thing you never considered in your long life was shoving a gun against your own skull. You might have taken on impossible jobs hoping to die, but not that. 

A gentle squeeze and you work on getting your breathing back to normal, swallowing back your own emotions and terror, there’s work to be done and you can unpack  all of this later. If you survive it anyway. A few passing of his hand along your back and you calm yourself down enough to lift your head. 

Hearing Meryl you almost want to laugh. “Somethings wrong with the ship, what’s the deal?” Did she miss the fact the ship has been off course almost since they arrived on the deck?

“We got some big badie after you?” Roberto, and finally removing yourself from Vash’s hold it dawns on you. They think someone is after Wolfwood for once and not Vash. Rather Ironic. 

“Beats me alright grampa.” You don’t hear the words he’s muttering as he seems to still be looking down and out over the sand toward where his brother fell. You need to stop thinking about that right now, there’s a whole town in danger.  

Hearing the sound of grinding gears you look skyward and see the upper deck of the ship starting to move. What the goddamn hell, debris from the sand streamer floating on the wind to be left behind the hurtling ship in the dunes. 

A crack of the ship's intercom overhead once more while you all watch “Trouble on the upper deck!” Some random member of the ship's crew over the airways and you feel a cold sweat break out.

“Why the hell is it moving?” Another crew member and you really question how smart these guys are, don’t they realize they’re on the ship wide broadcast? That’s how you stress more people out.

“No clue down here!” Fuck. Fuck, if the crew doesn’t know then just who the hell is making part of the ship move like that?

“That’s a … cannon right?” Hearing Vash and the quiver of fear in his voice your head is snapping towards him. What the hell does he mean by that, the churning in your stomach growing worse and the sweat really starting to bead on your body now. 

“Vash. Please tell me you’re joking.” Licking your lips and trying to swallow, balling your hands into fists to hide the fact your fingers are shaking. 

Turning his attention to you while Meryl seems to be in just as much shock as you are. “Wait really?” 

“This is gotta be some kind of joke! Ship can’t drive straight but can initiate an ion cannon.” From the corner of your eye you can see Roberto slap his head, mouthing the words ‘ion cannon’ at Vash while Roberto takes a seat on the deck. Biting his lip before nodding and you can see the gears in Vash’s head moving trying to think of something because you sure as hell don’t have any ideas on how you’re going to deal with this. 

“Old drunkle’s out. Time to do what I do best.” You can see Roberto taking a drink from his flask and you have to agree. This isn’t something he or Meryl are equipped to handle, they’re reporters. What the hell are they or even you for that matter going to do to stop a cannon? You don’t even know what you’re going to do about this ship heading for Hopeland.

“Oh please” Meryl really does need to learn when she’s outmatched.

“Whatever psycho mastermind did this, deserves the win.” Three of you are watching Roberto, a sense of dread washing over you once more. It feels like an impossible task but you aren’t sure you agree with his logic about deserving the win. 

Looking around you see the Undertaker leaning against the guard railing still looking downwards and you can only assume he’s still in pain about what happened to the man he called his brother. Growling something under his breath before turning with a look on his face that might have made the devil himself reconsider causing chaos. 

Stomping over to the group with his weapon tucked against his side and snapping at the four of you. “We’re stopping this bucket of bolts and the cannon too!”

“You’re hilarious.” A deadpan from Roberto, but something on Wolfwood’s face makes the tightness in your chest ease. Does he have some kind of idea or a plan about actually stopping the sand steamer?

“Do you have any idea how?” Looking at him and hearing Meryl voice your question has you starting to grin. Maybe this can be turned around. 

“Look at me of course I don’t!” Or not. Your shoulders slumping at his outburst and slapping a hand to your face. “But we’ve got guts and we’ve got grit” that is only going to get you so far without an actual plan, rolling your eyes to open your mouth.

“Huh! What good will those do!” A tug to your hand and you see Vash nod, he has to have an idea with the way his eyes flash in determination. 

“Here! Follow me!” Called behind him as he kept hold of your hand while the two of you ran, you knew if you couldn’t keep up with his longer strides with the way your leg was feeling he would have just swept you in his hold. If he’s doing that he has to have a plan. 

“Vash. Whats the plan?” Asking as you heard Roberto grumble about being too old for this crap as the other three followed after you. 

“You’ll see Mayfly. I just hope the system is still working.” Thankfully Vash isn’t running as fast as he could, allowing the others to catch up and keep stride as Vash seemed well aware of where he was going. If anyone could see the five of you it would have made quite the odd sight, running down along the halls. 

“The ship has a cannon why?” It’s a good question one you’d been curious about but just shrugged your shoulders in the past and never saw a reason to ask Vash about it in the past. Good think Meryl is too curious for her own good. 

“Look around the steamers made from space fairing parts. It was used to destroy asteroids and stuff.” Letting go of your hand as your reach the stairs Vash races ahead while you hear Roberto and Meryl coughing in the background. “And if I’m right it should be!” As Vash kicks the metal covered in ‘Do not enter’ signs you swallow, you should not have found him kicking down a door as attrative as you did. 

Following behind Vash as the others stood looking around the dim room. “The control room?” It certainly doesn’t look like any control room on space crafts that you’ve seen, then again they didn’t have plants to run them either. 

“Well damn it’s actually a spaceship.” No, no it’s not and you can’t help yourself from being snarky.

“Unless you missed it, it’s parts from the spaceship. This thing would leak oxygen if it could leave the surface like no tomorrow. With the way it’s been cut up and patched together.” Folding your arms watching as Vash wipes the dust from a glass panel in the center of a room.

“I’ve never seen tech like this.” You have, but from you have no idea how to work any of it. Thinking back to all the times you were Home and could have asked Brad or Luida for a short lesson on how to operate some of the system. 

“Come on work with me” It feels strange to just be stood there watching Vash open folders without any indication of the naming. He really does know exactly what he’s doing, feeling hope surge in your chest again as the screen lights up. Flinching slightly from the sudden change in light in the room. Maybe, just maybe Vash can pull a miracle out of a hat. 

“You did it!” Eyes flicking across the screens as Vash keep typing away furiously at the keyboard, grinding his teeth as he works.

“Not quite yet. It’s not working, the shaft is stuck.” Both you and Vash are leaning closer to the screen displaying the error in the system. 

“That’s not just stuck, the whole things been warped. That sure as hell can’t be normal damage.” The large X over the screen with the words broken is jarring, it should be obvious from the way it’s bent that something is wrong. The cracks and warping sends a chill down your spine. What the hell could have done something like that? 

“No. It’s not, it’s sabotage.” Vash is agreeing with you, frowning before going back to the controls and swearing softly under his breath. 

“So you’re saying you can’t stop it?” Glancing at Meryl you swallow, so much for that vague sense of hope that you could have stopped the ship. There has to be another way, something, anything to get the ship and the cannon to stop.

“Well not this way. But I guess we can still try to turn the cannon manually.” That pulls you from you internal musing. Vash can’t be serious. 

“Huh?” A quick noise from Roberto that has three of you turning to face him. “Turn the spaceship sized cannon Ha-ha You missed your calling, should have been a comedian stam-” Only for his tirade of negative thinking to be cut off by Wolfwood. 

“If you’re in” The tone Wolfwood has makes your head snap towards him, and from the corner of your eye you see Vash does as well.  “Me too whatever it takes yea?” For the first time since on the upper deck when you’d held him over the railing you hear hope in the undertakers voice again. If he can find something to believe as impossible as it seems you can too. Because it’s Vash, and you have to try to save those people in that town and the others on this sand streamer.  

“Alright since we’re doing this, what are we doing Vash. What’s the plan here?” Turning towards him as he went back to the console. 

“Wolfwood, you and I will see if we can slow it down from getting into it’s firing position.” Vash is back to typing away the sound of tapping echoing around the room, answering you while working on bringing up what looks like controls for the cannon. “Meryl? Can you stay here and when the cannon is at full power fire it?” A quiver in his voice and you understand why. If Meryl refuses one of you has to stay behind and it’s probably going to take all three of you to find a way to slow that cannon. 

A quick nod as Meryl raises her first is front of her face, a look of clear determination to try. “Just show me what to do!” A grin on his face, Vash motions to the keyboard. A few more quick taps before point at something on the screen. 

“Once we move the cannon, I need you to active the trigger mechanism.” A few more clicks and Meryl nodded seeing the button she would need to press.

“Got it!” A short thumbs up and you could see Roberto scowling, not a fan of this plan and in a way you weren’t either. If this failed it might just add to the weight currently plaguing her thoughts about what had happened in Jeneroa Rock and in the grand worm. 

Reaching out you clasps her shoulder and try to reassure her whispering in her ear. “Remember Meryl, it’s trying that matters.” Before giving her shoulder a squeeze and running out of the room after Vash and Wolfwood. 

Once outside again Vash is looking skyward at the cannon, taking note of it’s postion. “Not much time.” His voice is low and his hands balled into fists.

“Perceptive aren’t you.” You almost want to smash the two of them together but it would be counterintuitive to what the three of you are out here to do. 

“Get to the cannon!” A short shout and a wave of his hand at Wolfwood with a brief scowl on his face. One you relate to.

“Augh fine!”  Watching him run off you look to Vash to see his blue eyes squarely on you, grabbing your shoulder.

“You too Mayfly, do whatever you can to stop it.” The briefest of squeezes and you can read between the lines that he still wants you to keep yourself safe as best you can while trying to do the impossible. 

“Right!” It’s hard to find your voice for a moment, watching the concern on his face and knowing the odds aren’t in any of your favor. Reaching up to grab his flesh forearm and giving it your own reassuring squeeze before taking off. “Don’t do anything stupid!” Calling over your shoulder as you take off the same way Wolfwood had.

Panting as you ran and ignoring the pain lacing up your leg, you’d almost forgotten you’d been shot with the drama of the last few minutes. “No time to deal with that now.” Hissed to yourself as you see Wolfwood ahead of you on the deck before he disappears in front of you turning onto part of the deck right in front of the cannon. 

Catching up to him and leaning on your legs panting while he looks at the herculean task set before the two of you. Your own eyes stare at the cannon as it slowly but surly moves along its track into position. “What now.” It’s a good question and the sound of whistling in the wind draws your attention to the side. 

To see what looks like the cranes used to load and unload the ship flying through the air with the cables extended. “Oh please tell me didn’t.” You deadpan as one of them whizzes where both of your heads would have been if you hadn’t ducked. 

“Watch it Blondie!” Wolfwood screams almost next to your earpiece, while you slap a hand over it. Something else it seems he was either aware of or figured out at some point that it doubled as a communication device between you and Vash. 

“Well it’s not exactly stupid” you mutter under your breath, if they catch in the sand it might pull the cannon backward. Taking a breath before standing to your full height and hearing Wolfwood growl before hoisting his weapon to his shoulder and firing at the twisting gears in their tracks. 

“The gears are too small for bullets to block them, we need to come up with something else to slow it down.” All he’s been doing is wasting his ammo as you watch the small caliber ricochet off the metal. 

“Like what!” His panic is growing, biting on the cigarette in his mouth hard enough you’re surprised the filter hasn’t been bitten in two. 

A thought, and it’s a long shot as you start to dig through your pockets watching the cannon move closer and closer. “Hang on I think I still have one or two.” Opening one of the inner pouches hidden inside your jacket hoping you still have and feeling your fingers wrap around a small case. Jackpot.  “Got water or something?” Pulling the case out and snapping it open, three bullets with a clear liquid suspended inside a vial just behind the bullet. 

“Now isn’t the time to stop for a drink!” Snarling at you while somehow managing to keep his cigarette between his teeth. A skill you aren’t sure if you should be proud of him or not for. Flicking your eyes to him you scowl hitting the release on your rifle to drop the magazine. Catching it and sliding it into one of the pockets in your pants without breaking eye contact. 

“I’m aware of that!” Pulling the cocking handle on your rifle back, knowing with the magazine removed it’s going to catch knowing there isn’t a bullet waiting to slide into the chamber. Slipping one of the bullets from your jacket into it and slapping the cocking release mechanism, Wolfwood seems to have gotten the hint you’ve got a plan or at least an idea. 

Checking his pockets frantically while you make sure the bullet is seated where it needs to be in your rifle. “I do!” 

“Throw it there towards the base of gears on the count of three” Rasing your rifle to your shoulder while he nods.

“One” Shifting your feet, you need to make sure you hit this just right as Wolfwood draws his arm back.

“Two” Finger flicking the safety off as you look down the scope you don’t need for this distance both eyes open. Unaware of the tremor making Wolfwood shake, not from exertion but the fear that the ship is still hurtling towards Hopeland and one of the few things he cares for. 

“Three!” As Wolfwood throws the bottle you take a breath, letting it partway out your lungs as time seems to slow for you. Watching as it moves into your sights and following it before moving your reticle just slightly ahead of it, trigger finger slowly pulling backward the bang of your rifle echoing in your ear as you watch the bullet fly.

A perfect hit as the water explodes outwards and freezes almost instantly into a small layer of ice. Just enough to make the gears freeze in place. 

"The hell was that! It made ice!” You think looking at Wolfwood as you lower your rifle for the first time you’ve surprised him with something you can do. Compared to when you slugged him. 

“Liquid nitrogen.” That’s the short of it, you aren’t going to launch into an explanation about one of the few bullets you have that you don’t know how to make. “And with the pressure it won’t last but it’s bought us a bit more time “

Back to Masterlist for the series

[youssefguedira]

welcome back to diabolik au everyone! in which they are actually beginning to get somewhere

Two days after his first meeting with Di Genova, and with three days left of Merrick’s deadline, Joe wakes with a sense of looming dread. He still has no idea how he’s going to manage to bring Merrick the real paintings in three days, nor does he have any real way of escaping the situation - he doesn’t imagine Merrick will let him go that easily, even if he resorts to fleeing the country. 

A knock on his door draws him out of his thoughts. “Mr. al-Kaysani?” a voice asks. “I have your breakfast.”

Joe shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, takes a few breaths to steady himself, and answers. “Come in, please.”

Roberto pushes open the door, wheeling a trolley with a white tablecloth draped over it and a silver tray on top with him. He had been assigned by the hotel to assist Joe, but Joe’s barely seen him at all, and he barely speaks. 

“Thank you, Roberto,” Joe says. Roberto nods and leaves the room.

Joe lifts the lid from the tray to reveal a neat-looking plate of food that Joe barely notices, because placed carefully in front of it is a small piece of paper. They were fake, is all it says.

Joe picks up the note and flips it over. The back is blank, and the note itself is made up of cuttings from what Joe assumes are newspaper articles. There’s no identifying information, but there’s only one person who could possibly have sent it.

And Joe has a sneaking suspicion that that person may be much closer than Joe had thought.

“Roberto?” he calls, standing up and opening the door. “I have a question.”

“Can I help you?” Roberto asks. 

“Do you know anything about this?” Joe holds up the note. Roberto crosses the room to stand in front of him, his eyes flicking down to study the note, and Joe tracks the movement. There had been something about the man that had seemed familiar before, but now…

“What would make you think I would know anything?” Roberto asks. It’s not a denial. 

“A hunch, I suppose,” Joe says. “Do you know anything about Di Genova?”

It’s a risk, one Joe wouldn’t take unless he was almost completely certain he was right. Roberto’s expression doesn’t change at all. “I have heard he is not the sort of person you would want to meet,” he says. 

“And if I did want to meet him?” Joe asks. 

“Why would you want to do that?” Roberto asks.

Joe decides to go for the truth. If he’s wrong - which he doesn’t think he is, but he could be - then how could this possibly make the situation he’s already in worse? “Because I am desperate,” he says, “and I think he may be the only person who can help me.”

Roberto is silent for a long time, studying Joe’s expression. “In that case,” he says finally, and this time his voice is lower, almost familiar. He reaches back to grasp something at the back of his neck, and then pulls off his face - which, Joe realises, must have been a mask the whole time - and lets his hand drop. 

The man standing before Joe now is both familiar and unfamiliar at once. Joe hadn’t seen his face when they’d met before, but there’s no mistaking his eyes. Di Genova.

The thief doesn’t flinch when Joe reaches up without really thinking about it at all, when Joe’s fingertips brush his cheekbone, tracing over the lines of his face. There is a kind of danger in it, in being so close to this man who could probably kill him without even thinking, and yet the thief stays completely and perfectly still. And when he looks at Joe, something about him seems to soften around the edges - not quite gentle, but something close to it. 

“I spoke to the police,” Joe says after what feels like an eternity, letting his hand drop. “Asked after an Inspector Smith. They told me that man doesn’t exist. So I wondered who could have spoken to me that night, but it was you, wasn’t it? With one of those.” He gestures to the mask in the thief’s hand. “Not exactly an infallible disguise. Did you think I wouldn’t possibly find out?”

“By the time you did, I would have been long gone,” the thief says. “If everything had gone to plan. But this is not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

Instead of answering straight away, Joe steps away and sits down on the edge of the bed. The thief’s eyes track his every movement. He doesn’t move.

“I told you about the deal with Merrick,” Joe begins. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this kind of thing. What I do - what my friend and I have been doing for a few years - is sell fakes to corrupt businessmen with more money than morals and use the information we find on them to expose their corruption. I thought we were untraceable, but it seems Merrick traced us, or more specifically me. He knew, or guessed, the paintings were fake, and he wanted to make a new deal.”

“What kind of deal?” the thief asks, and this time he moves, crossing the room towards Joe to sit beside him. 

“I have four days to bring him the real paintings. Three, now. Or he releases all the information he has on me to law enforcement. I can’t contact anyone else in time, and if I try to run, he’ll release it anyway and I’ll have to go into hiding. I don’t know of anyone who can possibly help me, except you.” He doesn’t look at the thief when he says it. “I know you have no reason to, but-”

The thief reaches over with one hand, tilting Joe’s head gently to face him. Joe is frozen at the contact, at the way the thief’s eyes flick over his expression. He doesn’t dare move.

“I will do it,” the thief says after a moment, moving his hand away. “The paintings. I can find them for you in that time. And I will take the file he has on you, too. That way he won’t be able to threaten you again.”

“In only three days?” Joe asks, half disbelievingly. “That can’t be possible.”

There’s the tiniest hint of a smile on the thief’s lips, what Joe imagines must pass as a wide grin on anyone else. “I have my ways. Have some faith, Joe.” 

It’s strangely reassuring, even though it shouldn’t be. There are only inches of space between them. “And what will you expect in return?” Joe asks. “I can’t imagine you would do all of it for free.”

“Consider it a favour,” the thief says. Joe raises his eyebrows in disbelief, which makes the thief’s almost-smile widen just a little. “Is it really that unbelievable? I do not need anything from you, Joe.”

“Not unbelievable,” Joe says. “Just unexpected. Given everything that I’ve heard, some of which you told me.”

“Perhaps I have changed my mind,” the thief says. They are so, so close now, close enough that Joe could lean in and-

“What happens after?” Joe asks, largely to distract himself from that line of thought. “You said nobody knows your true face. I could go to the police if I wanted to. This could all be a trap.”

“It could be,” the thief says, but doesn't elaborate. “I will find you in two days. There is a cafe I will meet you at, and I will tell you where you can find the paintings then. That will give you enough time.”

“How will I know it’s you?”

“A code phrase. I will tell you, ‘Yusuf al-Kaysani, you are the most beautiful man I have ever met.’” 

Joe takes a moment to remember how to breathe after that. And then he asks, because he can’t resist any longer, “What’s your name?”

The thief is quiet for a moment, and Joe thinks he isn’t going to answer, but then he says, “Nicolò.”

It suits him. “Nicolò,” Joe says, testing it out. There is something unreadable in Nicolò’s expression when he says it. “In two days’ time, then, Nicolò.”

“In two days’ time,” Nicolò repeats. He pulls away abruptly and stands. “I will see you then.”

Joe watches, half mesmerised, as Nicolò pulls his mask back on and seems to transform seamlessly back into Roberto. But this time when he speaks, it’s with his own voice. “Goodbye, Yusuf.”

He leaves, and Yusuf is once again alone. 

[frecklystars]

“Princesa.”

“Mm?”

Bruno smiles, then carefully pets Keri’s hair back from her tired eyes, tucking a few strands behind her ear. “Are you falling asleep?”

“Mm-mm.” She shakes her head, blinking tiredly. “You?”

“No,” he rasps. “Not at all.”

They’re exhausted, but insomnia’s a bitch; neither of them have slept at all in the last two days. At least they can suffer together, cuddling one another on the couch, watching the rats do some kind of, uh - romantic drama, if Keri had to guess. Bruno’s especially intrigued with the plot, taking initiative to switch out the cardboard cutout scenery every few minutes.

Bruno throws in the occasional oh, no, I can’t believe she said that to him or how is José going to ever recover from this or are they ever going to reveal who the father is or do we have to wait another season?

And after a few minutes he mutters sleepily and disappointedly qué vida más triste to which Keri blearily asks what through the fabric of his ruana and he turns his head to look at her and asks sorry what and she lifts her head and asks what again and he echoes what and she says what you just said and he sniffs and asks with puppyish eyes what did I say

And she squints at him that’s what I’m asking you to which he replies with his brows scrunched together and his head shaking insistently amor I don’t remember what I said and she replies it was Spanish and you said it just after Maria told Luciana that she slept with José behind Roberto’s back and Bruno does that thing where he clicks his tongue against his teeth that Keri normally under non-sleep-deprived circumstances finds incredibly sexy and he shrugs maybe it was uhh qué lástima and he’s about to translate it to her but Keri shakes her head and says no that’s not what you said before

And Bruno blinks at her owlishly before replying how do you know that -- you said you didn’t know what I said before and she presses her lips into a firm line as he continues with wild hand gestures that only a theater kid would bother to use you don’t even speak Spanish how do you know what I did or did not say?

He’s cranky, she’s cranky, but it’s a playful cranky and there’s a glimmer of mischief in Bruno’s eyes when he exclaims Ay Dios Santo Bendito y la Virgen y la Santísima Trinidad! What did I say? What did I say? You don’t even know what I said, for all you know I could have just listed types of flowers and she insists I never claimed to know what you said I just know that it isn’t what you said before and he asks with widened eyes and an unintended voice crack well then tell me tell me go on mi vida tell me what did I say before and she whisper-shouts I!! Don’t!! Fucking!!!! Know!!! That’s why!! I’m asking!! YOU!!!

And this whole exchange is so stupid that she’s gone from sputtering and (half-heartedly, good-spiritedly) scowling and transitioning to giggling deliriously into his collarbone and her laugh is contagious that he’s laughing too and it’s her favorite thing in the world and as they’re gasping for air he’s wrapping his arms around her neck and pulling her closer because he can’t get enough of that beautiful sound she makes when she’s happy and oh my god oh my god these two just want to get some FUCKING SLEEP.

Keri, still giggling at their stupid conflict, reaches out her hand and drapes it across his lap, gesturing for Bruno to hold it.

Bruno misunderstands (or maybe he doesn’t). He blinks curiously. He drops a rat into her palm.

She squints at the rat. Then at Bruno. Then back at the rat. Like she has no clue what she’s holding. Like her brain is buffering. Like where did this rat even come from in the first place. Was he holding this the whole time. Is she hallucinating. Hello God are you there.

Then the rat wants to scamper up her arm because hey it’s Keri we love Keri she’s so nice to papi Bruno I want to give Keri a hug and she shrieks and squirms because she, for some godforsaken reason, forgot that rats could move, but Bruno keeps his arms locked around her and he’s laughing, he’s really laughing, his cheeks are turning pink and there’s fondness creasing at the wrinkles by his eyes, and the rat found its way back onto the floor scurrying for a fallen piece of cheese hidden away somewhere, and Keri’s laughing too and suddenly, finally, ultimately...

...they pass the fuck out.

[captain039]

Secrets of mutation PART 2

Logan(wolverine) x reader

Warnings: Age gap, student/teacher, AOB, trauma, swearing, sexual, intimate, a little forceful

Xmen X new mutants

AOB will be referred to second gender xD

Last chapter <-

Getting use to other people was difficult. You stayed with your little group most of the time, but when classes were sorted out you were separated, Rahne and Danny seemed eager to get into the whole school while Sam just tagged along and Roberto tried to find Illyana. You felt like the odd one out, trying to figure out your mutation, second gender, your past, things seemed to pile on, and why that man, Logan or the wolverine, had such a strong scent to you, nobody else did. The professor said he would help once you got settled, you didn’t settle well, not in this situation, not knowing anything. After a few days you went to find the professor, rummaging through students before sighing at his office.

“Come in” he said before you even got to knock.

“Ah Y/n” he greeted as you looked to the other person in the room.

“Sorry- do you want me to come back?” You asked.

“No come in, it’s alright” the Professor smiled beckoning you to sit. You avoided eye contact with the man at all costs, the same strong scent coming off him.

“You’re here for answers” the Professor said and you nodded.

“You’re much like Logan here, though you didn’t take a bullet to the head” he chuckled and you snapped your head to look at him in shock. He raised his eyebrows sighing, his arms crossed also. You’ve heard about his mutation, claws and quick healing apparently. You glanced to his fists seeing nothing and frowned.

“You wanna see them?” He asked noticing you eyes.

“Sorry-“ you flushed looking away.

“It’s ok kid” he scoffed a smiled on his face. You heard a slicing sound and looked. You stared wide eyed at the silver claws coming out of his knuckles.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” You said wanting to go closer.

“You can go closer” the Professor smiled assuringly.

“I won’t scratch ya” Logan said as you stood. You looked at them in awe, you hadn’t seen many mutants besides the ones you were with.

“It hurts every time they come out” he said rather quietly.

“Oh I didn’t mean to make you hurt yourself-“ you glanced between him and the professor in apology.

“I’ve just-“ you sighed.

“I haven’t seen a lot of things before” you mumbled lifting your hand to run your fingers along the blunt edge.

“Is it steel?” You asked as the man stared at you.

“Adamanthium” The Professor said.

“An indestructible metal” he added.

“Woah” you whispered.

“So is it just your claws that are metal?” You asked.

“His whole skeleton is” the Professor spoke again.

“Were you born with metal in you?” You asked softly and he chuckled his claws going back in.

“No I was bone before I went into an experiment” Logan spoke this time and you frowned.

“Not like your programs though” you nodded at his words and backed away.

“Thank you for showing me- I guess I’m a new kid learning again” you said a little embarrassed.

“I think they’re cool” you added sitting down with your eyes cast down.

“You’re in a good place now kid, the Professor will help you out” Logan rested a hand on your shoulder before leaving and you watched.

“Seems he likes you” the Professor chuckled.

“What-?” You mumbled.

“Take it as a compliment dear, he’s usually a grumpy old man” he chuckled again.

“Oh” you said glancing to the door again intrigued.

“Shall we start at the beginning?” He asked catching your attention again.

“What’s the beginning?” You asked.

“Simple things, age, name, last name” he shrugged.

“My names Y/n Y/l/n” you said and he nodded. You were confused but said your age and he nodded again.

“I’m a mutant?” You shrugged.

“Good, do you remember anything about your family?” He asked and you frowned.

“I only get glimpses of people without faces, laughs and a house” you said fiddling with your fingers.

“Do you remember their names?” He quizzed.

“No” you whispered sadly.

“I have feelings of happiness when I remember, family happiness, I don’t know if that helps?” You sighed.

“It’s a start” the Professor smiled.

“What do you remember from waking up at the program?” He asked.

“I was on a hospital bed, well I was cuffed to a hospital bed, um the room was creepy like in a horror movie hospital. Dr Reyes came in said I was a mutant and I’d just shown” you thought a bit going through memories.

“I never showed my mutation though so I doubted I even was one, Magik didn’t like me kept picking on me, Rahne said that she could smell me? Like I had a different scent to the others. I don’t know why” you mumbled the last bit.

“It wasn’t a program more of a prison, I remember having horrible nightmares but that was from Danny apparently” you trailed off.

“Yes her mutation is quite unique I’ve never seen anything like it” the Professor spoke.

“Yeah, I don’t really remember much” you said softly sighing.

“That’s alright, that’s why you’re here, to unlock your past and create a future” he smiled at you.

“Can I ask something?” You said and he nodded.

“Of course” he smiled.

“About our second gender” you mumbled.

“Ah with that, I can go through your mind and find it for you, it’ll be like you never didn’t know it” you nodded a little confused.

“It may sting though” he moved to sit in front of you and you took a deep breath as he pressed his fingers to your temple.

Memories flashed by and your mind scrambled while you gripped the chair. Your heart sped as voices and images flashed through your memories.

“Y/n” you didn’t realise he had stopped as you shook on the chair. You had cried out as too many things flashed by, memories flooding, people, places. You sobbed softly at the memory of your parents being murdered before the men took you. You remembered changing and running into the woods before the tranquillised you.

You groaned in pain as you tumbled on the floor, body shaking uncontrollably. You heard Rahnes voice close but couldn’t focus on what was happening as your bones changed and reshaped.

You laid on the floor, eyes closed and breathing steady. You heard faint voices as you slowly opened your eyes and lifted your head.

“That’s why you could sense her Rahne” you heard the professor say. You went to speak but it came out a distorted meow almost. You frowned looking to Rahne as she stared at you.

“You’re a cat” she said and you froze.

“Like a big cat” you looked to Danny behind her who spoke.

“Is it Y/n?” Sam asked.

“Yes” the Professor answered for you as you looked back to him.

“She’s got her memories back too” he said and they all looked surprised.

You felt your body change again and sighed as you laid on the ground naked.

“Here” Sam quickly covered you with a blanket and you thanked him softly.

“Seems we unlocked a little more than expected” the Professor said and you nodded not bothering to get off the ground.

Next chapter ->

[ghostiewriter]

AJSKDJLES you’re so nice!!! I was 100% using my birthday to manipulate you into giving us more headcanons lol but I wasn’t expecting you to actually get to it today! 🥺🥺🥰 take your time and no pressure but I definitely wouldn’t say no to hearing more about them making wild melodramatic accusations to make each other laugh in public because I can 100% see it. And I can totally see it starting on the surf trip because no one knows them so they’d just like try and embarrass the other? Amazing.

Sorry it’s a day late but I hope you had a great birthday bestie and enjoy the chaos of this wee blurb😂tbh I love this headcanon for them because it’s something they would totally do! But happy late birthday and I hope it was an enjoyable one!!❤️

Word Count: 1.6K

It started of a silly little game.

Keeping true to their word, the second they had graduated from high school and had those diplomas in their hands, JJ and Kiara wasted little time in planning the logistics of their surf trip around the world. So many places to go, waves to surf, sights to see—it was impossible to choose a place to start. However, thanks to Pope and his intense need to create a plan so his two best friends wouldn’t be thrown into the world as they “go with the flow”, he had organised a proper scheme.

JJ didn’t think it was necessary, and Kiara knew they wouldn’t stick to it. But they let Pope continue with it regardless.

Against their better judgement, his route and itinerary around Europe was insanely helpful for the couple as they ventured through the countries, excited to see places they could only dream about. Especially for JJ, it felt absolutely surreal that he was leaving the island, let alone travelling the world with the love of his life at his side. It was something he would never fully believe, but cherish in fear that he would wake up from this perfect dream and return to a shitty life in reality.

But as he turned to look at Kiara, her hair swept back by the breeze and her eyes watching the glittering city below in awe as they stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower, JJ knew that no matter how many times he pinched himself that this was his reality.

“If you’re about to make some cheesy joke about how the view is pretty but you’re prettier, I will throw you off this tower.”

JJ only grinned in response, shaking his head as he finally shifted his attention to the city view. They had just witnessed the sunset and it was one of the most breath-taking views either of them had seen, without a fucking doubt.

“Well now that you’ve stole my thunder and ruined it…” He trailed off with a sigh, but his smile only widened when he heard the soft giggle that escaped her lips.

“Whatever.” She muttered, her features softening as she leaned against the railing and took in the sounds of the streets of Paris.

“I can understand why so many people propose up here, it’s beautiful.” He admitted after a few moments.

Kiara only scoffed.

JJ turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You don’t agree?”

“Because there is nothing more romantic than having a bunch of other tourists watching one of the most intimate moments of your life whilst horns are beeping down below and the wind is blowing hair into your lip gloss.” She deadpanned.

Kiara was a romantic person when she wanted to be, but some gestures were even too much for her.

“Well when you put it like that, it’s no fun.” JJ muttered with a small chuckle, though he could see her point. “Does this mean I should keep the ring in my pocket and scrap the proposal?” He asked with a grin on his face.

Kiara rolled her eyes but she smiled. “Sorry to break your heart, babe, but if you got down on one knee right now, I would have no shame embarrassing you in front of all these people.” She said with a brief glance at the other tourists standing up here with them.

But JJ’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the challenge.

She didn’t have time to question him when he slipped one of the rings off, holding it in his palm before he cleared his throat and got down on one knee.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at him in confusion. “Jay, what are you doing—”

“Barbra Gertie Stonehend,” He started in a loud, boisterous voice to (successfully) catch the attention of the other tourists. “We have spent years together, helping each other through many hardships. I have been there for you since your bed wetting days when you were twelve, I have been there for you since you got your braces stuck in the railing at the zoo, and I have been there for you since your pet piggy was tragically knocked down by a bike. But now I ask that you do me the honour of being there with me at the end of the aisle by the alter?”

He finished his obscene speech, now holding his ring between his fingers and looking up at her with a faux hopeful expression. She pressed her lips together to hold in her snickers as she glanced around, seeing all eyes on them as they awaited her answer. And when her gaze returned to JJ, there was something quite smug shining in his eyes.

JJ had always been the best liar from them all, the way he would so easily be able to spout out nonsense at the drop of a hat. But she was just as competitive and determined as the blond, and willing to challenge him at his own game.

“Oh Bernie…” She sighed, hand placed on her chest as she looked down at him. “How could I ever marry a monster like you! Marge told me everything, I cannot believe you would expect me to marry you after you were the one that killed my pig!”

A few gasps could be heard from the crowd around them.

JJ urged himself not too laugh, though his eyebrows were raised in silent appreciation.

“Boo-Bear, it’s not what it seems! I didn’t mean to kill Vincent!” He urged, reaching out to hold her hands in his own. “I am more than a cold blooded pig murderer, please give me a chance!”

“I love you, my snookums, but I cannot!”

“Please, honey-bunch, don’t listen to Marge!” He cried out as she ripped her hands from his. “She is just jealous of what we have!”

“Then why are you having a child with her?!”

Kiara could’ve sworn she heard someone utter ‘holy shit’ under their breath but urged her face to remain neutral.

“It’s not mine!”

“Then who’s is it?” Kiara demanded, her hand clutching her imaginary pearls.

“My twin brother’s!”

“No!” Kiara gasped, feigning utter shock as she took a few steps back. “It cannot be Bobby’s…because he is the father of my child!”

Another series of gasps echoed amongst the landing.

“You…you were cheating on me with my twin brother?” JJ asked, finally standing up as he looked at her with a look of betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Bernie…” She whispered but JJ dramatically turned away.

“I can’t believe this,” He muttered before heading towards the exit. “I’m taking the dog and going home!”

“BERNIE, NO—”

“Goodbye, Barbra, enjoy your life with Bobby and his stupid exterminating company!”

Whispers murmured around the group and Kiara urged herself to keep a straight face as she waited a few moments before following him down. Once they reached the bottom, it took one glance at each other before they burst out laughing, tears streaming down their faces as they clung onto each other and walked back to their flat.

It was the start of an odd game they played for the rest of their trip. In the most random places they would play out insane scenarios, the aim to be as dramatic as they possibly could until one of them had to physically leave the scene before they burst out laughing. It was just a wee game to spice things up when they were out in public, plus it helped knowing they would never see any of these people again.

The word ‘Eiffel’ just had to be said and the game would begin.

And boy, was it entertaining.

There was the time they were in Austria visiting a vineyard, when suddenly Roberto was just sick and tired of holding back his secret affair he had been hiding behind his wife’s back. Little did he know his wife, Carla, had been sleeping with his secretary too.

Or the time they pretended to be spies on a mission whilst walking through a museum in Australia, pretending to mutter things to one another and even went to the extent of buying walkie talkies so they could suspiciously communicate from opposite sides of the room. That one kind of backfired because they did end up being thrown out by security.

Or the time they were in a small village in Turkey when it was suddenly revealed that Topanga would be leaving her fiancé, Johnny, for a prince that promised her wealth in power. However much to her shock, the prince she had been talking to was actually Johnny catfishing her.

Or there was the time they decided to re-enact the whole plot of Mamma Mia in Greece to see how long it would take people to notice how familiar the whole situation felt. It turned out it took people a tragically long time.

It was a stupid game that they adored and it followed them through the extent of the surf trip and even sometimes when they would returned home. Not to the same extent as they did in the past with fake identifies, but sometimes just odd scenarios to really fuck with their friends’ heads and keep them on their toes.

There was just something so satisfying about turning to each other, matching grins on their faces as they sat at the kegger and listened to some random touron talk about how nothing interesting ever happened on this island whenever she would visit her grandmother.

Ideas racing in their minds and all the possibilities of how they can make this night one to remember were jumping at the possibility to put on a show. With his eyebrows raised, JJ turned to his girl.

“Eiffel?”

“Eiffel.”

“HOW COULD YOU?! THAT GOLDFISH PIZZA MEANT EVERYTHING TO ME AND YOU JUST ATE IT AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH?”

After all, it started as a silly little but it always ensured chaos.

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

@theasstour​ and I have been stewing in this idea for nearly a year and it’s finally come together.. we hope you enjoy x.

Word Count: 25.6k | Warning(s): explicit language, alcohol, sexual content

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

There were few moments in life that would equate to being backstage at a fashion show, simply because it was impossible to string together the specific words needed to describe the feeling. Journalists tried, quickly scribbling down thoughts and plans for their future articles in small notepads, while the professionals around them danced about in unspoken, yet somehow synchronized, movements. How would they be able to accurately depict the feeling of fabrics rubbing together between your fingers, in the most comforting way? The almost deafening sound of sewing pins carelessly being dropped on the table, after fixing a foot sized hole in a pair of trousers moments before showtime. Or how, with the amount of people crammed into the room, mixed with the humid Roman air seeping through the open windows, had sweat continuously dripped from your forehead. Yet, there was still a constant shiver running up your spine with nerves. No matter how valiant of an attempt, unless they were watching their own tailored outfits walk down the runway, their written words would never be exactly right.

Even after four years working for Gucci, perfecting hundreds of articles of clothing, clothing that was held on such a high pedestal in the fashion industry, the nerves never settled. Not when Alessandro immediately hired you at the end of your University placement, or when you were asked to accompany him in the closing walk during last year’s Cruise Show. But all of those monumental achievements paled in comparison to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you were crouched in front of your current canvas, Gucci’s newest runway model for the 2020 Cruise Fashion Show; Harry Styles.

He was making his runway debut wearing Look 51, something you’d taken notice was not too far away from his new wardrobe when you first opened his folder. The wide legged pants were crafted from fine dots patterned blue wool, a single red pin stripe running from the hip, all the way down to the ankle. They were finished with minor details, ones not many people would take notice to, but ones that made your heart race with excitement; hidden horn buttons, front slash pockets, viscose inner lining, and an interior silk belt, all of which were hidden by his coat. Green, red, and blue stripes defined the knee length coat, appearing to crease where the four pockets sat; two at his groin and two more just at the breasts, the left pocket holding Lyre ‘Pas de Rumeur’ crest patch. Barely visible under the wool coat, peaked out a blazer identically matching the pants, only the buttons and red piping could be seen, but you knew what would be hidden to onlookers; an orange lion embroidered onto the upper left breast pocket, the hand stitched word ‘Gucci’ sitting under it’s paws in black thread, and a baby blue silk inside - a fabric that no doubt felt great against Harry’s white tank top covered torso. The rest of his look consisted of minor accessories that brought the look together; a red barrie that had the signature double G’s embroidered in green thread, a pair of crocheted black fingerless gloves, and maroon quilted leather slide sandals, complete with the interlocking G horsebit. The subtle jewelry on his body was a stark contrast to his usual ring clad fingers, now only having a few delicate necklaces rest against his bare chest. He was a sight to be seen, someone who would surely grab attention as he made his way through the dark museum runway.

“Quit moving, or you’ll end up with a pin in your bum.” you mumbled, on your knees behind Harry and quickly fixing a tear in the rear left pants pocket before he was ushered out onto the runway.

The two of you were in the farthest corner of the back dressing room, away from most of the hustle and bustle of all other models, so that you could grab the emergency sewing kit, filled with all colors of thread, baby scissors, hundreds of pins, and even super glue, from your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, Alessandro could be seen weaving through the room, triple checking that each and every outfit was completed in the exact way he had envisioned. There wasn’t much time before all models were set to step foot on the Musei Capitolini floor, and the last minute nerves were finally setting in.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Never done this before, you know.” his voice was muffled by not only the chatter of the room, but also the constant picking of his lip.

“Still can’t believe you’re actually doing it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you chuckled, giving the bum pocket a couple tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come undone again, before moving to stand directly in front of him. “You cut yourself the first time we met, ripped your trousers at the first shoot, and fell off a stone wall in the new campaign. You’re not exactly the most graceful lad at times.”

“In my defense, no one told me not to get on that wall.” Harry paused a moment, holding his hand out for you to place the pin cushion while you reorganized your bag,  “Can’t believe we only met a few years ago. Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t really remember the exact date you first met Harry. All you remember is it had been February 2018 and raining - very hard at that - and when you entered the Gucci store on Bond Street in London, your umbrella had been torn to shreds because of the wind, and your hands felt like ice after having been attacked by the raging storm outside. Alessandro had been upstairs in one of the offices, three huge white boards before him with the different campaigns he was planning at the time. Humming along to Malafemmena by Roberto Murolo playing from the speakers on his desk, Alessandro traced a finger over the fabric hanging from the wall beside the boards. You knew those were the fabrics you were going to be using today, your boss having hung them forth so it would be easier for you to work.

“Morning.” You had said, taking your jacket off and placing it on the hanger. “Absolutely horrendous outside.”

“Hmm,” mused Alessandro, tilting his head to take the grey fabric in before he looked over at you making your way over. “Always like that in England.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the different colours, materials and patterns you were going to use for the new looks. “You’re not wrong.”

Alessandro giggled, looking over his shoulder for a single second.

“Either pouring rain or it’s drizzling.” You said, studying the different designs of each of the suits you would be making over the next few months. “Right annoying when you don’t even want to be here.”

He laughed again, turning around to look at the boards you assumed.

“I’m being serious.” You reached for the fabric your boss had been checking out when you arrived. “Who would choose to live in a country where it constantly rains?”

“Didn’t really have a choice most of my life,” came a voice from behind you and you instantly stopped dead in your tracks. “Can’t really control where we are born, can we?”

Slowly, you turned to see one of Alessandro’s dearest friends: Harry Styles. He was sitting in the brown leather sofa right behind you, a sofa you knew was there from having been in Alessandro’s London office multiple times before, but hadn’t thought to give a second look. You would assume Harry would have someone there with him, like some assistant or manager or… anyone, but Harry was sitting there all alone, looking over at you with this cheeky grin on his face that had your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t a shock for him to be here alone, you thought after a second, as Harry and Alessandro spent loads of time together usually so this was just another normal hang-out for them. You, on the other hand, had never met Harry Styles before. This was your first time being in his company. And so far – you had to be honest with yourself – you weren’t looking very good. Grumpy, soaked through, and with a dash of dishevelled everything, you no doubt looked like a person no one wanted anything to do with. Harry clearly found it very amusing how little you liked being in England. Also most definitely found it funny how startled you were at his sudden utterance. You watched as he got up from the sofa, walking over to you as Alessandro also came to sight again.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro said. “This is Harry.”

You zoned out entirely, the whole situation too surreal. Though you had been born and brought up in England, there was just something about the constant rain that made not only your mood drop, but your skin sticky and hands clammy. So when Harry reached a hand out to shake yours after Alessandro had told Harry your name and introduced you, red lights and a loud alarm started going off in your head. He would have to feel just how bad the effect of the bloody terrible English weather had on you. But not shaking his hand would be weird and impolite. His hand was between the two of you, open and ready for yours. It stood there for a few seconds. And you just looked at it. Quickly realising that not shaking his hand would probably be more awkward than doing so with a sweaty palm, you took his. A breathy giggle left Harry’s lips as your hands met. You let his go, looking over at Alessandro who was giving you a weird look while you heard the slap of Harry’s hand against his thigh in the background.

“Measurements.” Alessandro said, trying to move on from the awkward situation you had just caused. All the blood in your body rushed to the surface of your skin, instantly heating you up. You glanced to the ground, hoping Harry didn’t notice how flustered you just got. Walking to your bag, you took out your notebook and measurement tape. “Glorious, mio caro.”

Getting your pen, you walked over to the board for the Gucci Autumn/Winter Campaign. There were five different suits for this one, a couple of more for the next, and then three for the last one. From the way Alessandro had left some space at the bottom of the last board, it was clear he would be working even more with Harry in the future, they just did not know exactly what or when yet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and you whipped your head to your left to see Alessandro pointing to the different suits on the board.

“These today.” He said, pointing to the specific details he wanted and instructions on where they would be loose and not. “I need to go to a meeting, but you two will be fine on your own. You have a lot in common.”

You frowned, watching as Alessandro walked toward his desk, picking up a huge binder and resting it under his arm. “Have a lot in common?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

Alessandro only gestured with his hands for the two of you to get talking, and then he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Dettagli - Detalhes by Ornella Vanoni played lowly as the quiet between the two of you filled the room and made it troublesome to breathe properly. A great stream of anxiety suddenly took over and you suddenly felt very awkward. Obvious from the way Alessandro had left in such a hurry and the way he had left with that grin, you knew there was underlying expectations to this encounter. There were multiple reasons why Alessandro had called you to come help him. You didn’t want to think about that, though, because that only made absolutely everything ten times more embarrassing.

“Lovely,” Harry looked over at you from staring at the door Alessandro had kicked closed, standing confidently in his green and white striped tee shirt over his loose light denim jeans. “Likes a dramatic entrance and exit, that one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking over to the board to look at the details once more. Harry only watched you, a bit unsure of what to do next. The rain fell against the windows, creating a lulling sound to go with the Italian music still swaying through the room. The white walls, tall ceiling, and Victorian look of the room only made it feel like you two were actually in Italy. His phone vibrated from the sofa with an incoming text, only giving it a quick look over his shoulder until you wandered over to your bag again. Whipping your glasses out, you hung them from the collar of your white tee shirt before walking back over to Harry.

Quickly, and maybe a bit too loudly, you cleared your throat. “Are you ticklish?”

Taken a bit off guard, Harry blinked twice. “Only armpits and backs of my knees.”

“Right.” You nodded your head, hooking your measurement tape around your neck. “Stand still, back straight.”

Harry listened to you, biting the side of his lip as you pressed your ring and index finger to your sternum in concentration. Eyes following you as you started walking around his figure, getting a good look at everything before you stood before him again.

“Clothes too loose?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, taking your tape back in your hands again. An instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio by Jack Jezzro started playing just as the rain outside threw itself more forcefully against the windows, but you tried not to pay notice to anything but what was going on before you. You had no idea why you were nervous. Plenty of times before, you had worked with other celebrities; tailoring their suits, dresses and whatnots. For some reason, however, this felt different. Harry was so close to Alessandro, so the notion that the two of you would get along just as well filled you with anxiety, and a hint of awkwardness. Bringing your tape up you took a step closer to Harry as you lifted it above his head and around his neck. Before doing anything else, you put your glasses on, wanting to actually be able to see what the measurements were. Resting the tape on the tops of his shoulders, you put your finger between the tape and his neck to allow for some room for Harry to breathe in his suits. You felt him swallow against your finger. Her heart skipped a quick beat.

“So…” he said, dragging it out. “Where are you from?”

Instantly, your eyes whipped up in the direction of his, staring at you patiently. You glanced down at the measurements again, whispering them to yourself under your breath and doing so continuously till you wrote his numbers behind the ‘neck’ in your notebook.

“You can tell I’m from England?” you asked, knowing your parents had made it very apparent to you how much of your accent you had lost over the four years you had spent constantly traveling.

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking back to him. “Lift your arms, please.”

He did.

You sneaked the measurement tape from where it hung from his shoulders and wrapped it around the widest point of his chest. “Worcestershire, you?”

“Cheshire,” he answered. “Right outside Manchester.”

“Stand in a relaxed posture if you can,” you ordered. “You can let your arms fall to your sides.” Harry did as you told him to. “Now breathe in.” Breathed in, you noted the numbers in your head. “Breathe out.” You did the same again. Muttering them under your breath, you dragged the tape with you while writing everything down.

“And you?” Harry asked, clearly eager to get to know you better while you were this close to him. He didn’t want any awkward tension between the two of you as this almost felt like an intimate moment; you studying him so closely and touching his entire body on your first meeting. Though he was good at knowing when to be professional and when it was okay not to be - and though he knew this was work - he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t. You were a good friend of Alessandro, just as he was, and so it felt more like two acquaintances hanging out than anything work related.

“Evesham.” You answered, enclosing the tape around Harry’s waist this time. You leaned into him, nose almost touching his chest. You breathed in through your nose, and as discreetly as possible, breathed out through your mouth. Why were you acting up? What was it with Harry Styles that suddenly made it hard for you to function? This never happened. Bending your index finger, you started feeling around for Harry’s belly button to make sure you were on the right spot.

“Never really been to Worcestershire, if I’m- Oh!” Harry looked down at you as you poked his belly button a little too hard.

“Sorry, just needed to know I was directly on your waist.” You leaned down, asking him to breathe in and out again.

Harry watched you write the numbers down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“What?” you asked, putting one end of the tape at the mid side of his neck, following it all the way down to where you knew Alessandro wanted the shirt to end. Which was a little too close to his crotch. “You mean working for Gucci or tailoring people?” You felt the spot where his abdomen ended and his leg began. No, no, no, don’t go there, be professional, you thought to yourself.

“Both.”

You hunched down, getting the right measurements, writing them down, and then going to stand at his back. “Since I was twenty. Alessandro thought I had some talent, took me under his wing, and I’ve been working for Gucci since, tailoring people.” Placing your finger near his armpit, and tracing a line upward, Harry jerked.

“Absolutely not.” He glanced at you now that you were face to face, protecting his armpit while he continued on, “Want me to elbow you in the throat?”

“Preferably not.”

“Then don’t tickle my armpit.” He was so serious it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Well,” you couldn’t help your smile now. “I kind of have to know where your armpit is to do your shoulders.”

Conflict ran across Harry’s face, as if he was debating everything that could go wrong if he let you do it. Slowly, he turned back around, shoulders incredibly tense this time.

“Try to relax.”

“I know I’m about to have a finger jammed up my armpit, I’m unable to.”

The urge to laugh was so immense, but you bit your lips together and quickly ran your finger from his armpit and directly up his shoulder. Harry only winced a little, sighing under his breath as you took the measurements and then went to write them down.

“Sorry,” Harry said as you turned back around to him. “Didn’t mean to turn into a dickhead, but I just hate when people touch my armpits.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m the same with my neck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Nope. I’ll do that myself unless I need someone to do my back.”

“Let me know next time you need help and I’ll do your back.” Harry said. “Maybe wiggle my fingers along your neck or summat to that effect.”

You laughed. “You have free time on your hands now? Aren’t you a busy bloke?”

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

“World tour is over; I get to relax.” He informed, watching as you did his arm. “Going to Italy to relax with some mates and family.”

“How nice.” You said, doing his wrist. “I’m going to Italy as well. Always spend March ‘till August in Florence, then September ‘till February in London.”

“Really?” Harry almost looked a little impressed by your lifestyle, as if his own wasn’t just as adventurous. “Travel a lot?”

You couldn’t help a tiny smile, knowing that no matter how many countries you’d travelled to, Harry had probably done double the amount. But regardless of how well-travelled he himself was, in the low yet curious tone of his voice, you could hear the sincerity of his question. “Mostly between Italy and England, but I do tag along on some of Alessandro’s visits to the States, France, and some other countries.”

“Wicked.” Harry smiled as he noticed the corners of your mouth tip a little upward. “What’s been your favourite so far?”

The eye contact was intense. He didn’t look away, focusing entirely and altogether on you. There was a friendliness to his glance that had you relaxing, which was odd considering how anxious you had been earlier. You were sure that, by this point, Harry had completely forgotten the entire reason why he was here or why it was raining outside. And, to be fair, so had you. This felt like catching up with a friend, the easy chatter you had with one of your mates after months apart.

“I feel like I’m somewhat biased, but Italy. I love my little flat in Florence and that city too much for my own good.” You said, finding the way Harry’s head moved slightly with his huff, endearing. “You expected that?”

“What's not to love about Italy?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I’m going there this summer, remember? Taking my whole family and meeting some mates.”

“Where abouts are you going?”

“Modena.” He put his hands in his jean pockets, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not really anywhere close to a big city or anything, but I just want to rest once I’m there to be fair. I’m teaching myself Italian at the moment, Alessandro is teaching me some as well.”

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

“Would you understand if I spoke some to you?” The four years you had lived in Italy had made you fluent in their first language. It had been a challenge at first, but you now understood the frustrated Florentine drivers shouting out from their open driver side windows, the old couple owning the bakery near you who loved to mumble, and even the slang some of the interns at Gucci used when they talked to one another. Harry seemed to be able to tell that you mastered this language he had just barely started to learn, but he nodded nevertheless.

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, getting the measurement tape from the table behind you, completely having forgotten about the fact that you were here for work.

“Is that Italian for ‘oh no’?” Harry teased, making you both laugh, but you quickly shut up as you saw what was next on the list. Hip and seat. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Harry, biting your lip as you hunched down before him. You could tell that he too was a bit taken aback by the completely new position you two found yourself in. He quickly looked away.

“Is it okay if you…” your eyes met. “If you lift your shirt slightly and lower your jeans a tad? I need to measure directly onto your body.”

“Alright,” Harry took a grip of his jeans, shimmying them along with his boxers a bit down his hip. “Yeah.” Taking his shirt up next, the bare skin of his abdomen was there right in front of you.

“Modena,” you started, leaning in as you brought the measurement tape around him. Harry felt your breath brush against his abdominal hair. “Non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

“What?” he said, eyes glued to the wall right in front of him, hands gripping his shirt hard in concentration. “Didn’t catch that.”

You memorised his number, then said a quick, “You can pull your jeans up and shirt down now.”

Harry did so, watching you stroll back to note his hip. He noticed he was panting slightly, like he had run up a set of stairs. Closing his mouth, he shook his head and willed himself to act normal, to be respectful. It was a little hard, however, when he had been single for so long and a pretty lass stood right in front of his crotch. As you came back and stood in front of him the exact same way as the time before, Harry settled his eyes on the white boards again. This time around, you brought the book with you, wanting the crotch and leg area to be done with as quickly as possible.

“Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.” You said again, measuring around the widest point of his seat.

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

You giggled, writing down the measurements before inhaling hugely. Inseam next. “Did you catch what I was saying?”

“No, I-“ He stopped himself as your hand came up to the inside of his upper thigh, not having seen it coming. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.” You said quickly, doing his inseam, knuckles softly gracing that spot between his thighs.

“I, uhh, I didn’t understand what you were saying.” He admitted quickly, hands on his hips and gaze faraway.

You wrote down the inseam, and got up, taking the book with you. His eyes instantly fell on you as you stood face to face again; him biting his lips together and your eyes big. Turning around, you placed the book down on the table again, running your finger over all the measurements so far.

“Could you come here, please?” You asked, hearing Harry walk towards you, hands on his back and ready for the next steps. You had been a bit scared to command him earlier, but now that you had talked and been between his legs, you felt it almost got a little easier to be around him. As if the awkwardness had gone away. Now you didn’t have to go far to write his measurements because the table and book and pen were right beside you. You walked over to the white board, mentally jotting down how and where Alessandro wanted the shirt to end and how it was supposed to sit on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry craned his neck to watch you. Still wearing your glasses, he watched your lips move as you mumbled to yourself, the dark blue of the rainstorm from the window beside you, made what Harry looked like seem like a painting. The calmness of you against the raging madness outside. He glanced back at the book, then at the soft fabric hanging beside him, mind wandering to the different places these campaigns would take him. He read over his measurements, about to turn the pages to see some of his other lengths and widths, when he felt a sharp pain in his finger.

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Harry was fast to answer, putting his index finger in his mouth to get some of the blood off his finger.

Walking back over to him, you didn’t pay much attention to how he was quick to put his hand behind his back again where it had been earlier. “Modena isn’t too far from Florence.”

Harry’s brows met above his nose, feeling a little lost at first, but as he slowly started putting two and two together, his grimace evaporated. “Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

You nodded your head twice, giving him a little smile. “Esattamente.”

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

You raised your hand, offering Harry a high five which he happily answered. What he forgot in that second however, was his minor accident just a minute earlier. Right before your hands met, you noticed his finger, and your eyes went immediately to his.

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

“Oh-” Harry looked at it, looking unsure for a second before he huffed. “Oh that,” he huffed. “That’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re a tailor.”

“What…” You shook your head. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Thought we were stating the obvious.” He shrugged. “Just a papercut. I’ll survive.”

“Of course you’ll survive, just wondered how you were able to start bleeding out of nowhere.”

Harry chuckled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to use my hand as normal in no time.”

“Knob.” You mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it. That was not at all professional. And you were in a very professional setting. You were at work. You couldn’t call your client a knob right to his face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, you thought to yourself trying to row yourself back to safe territory. You scrunched your nose up as you inhaled sharply. “Can’t even remember the last time I got a papercut, to be frank.”

“Speaking frankly now, are you?” He joked. You looked up at him again, and a second after your eyes met, you both started laughing. You put your hand to your heart, shaking your head at how silly the two of you were when you were under strict orders from Alessandro to get Harry’s measurements. But the fact that he hadn’t taken you calling him a knob seriously, the fact that he was able to joke about it and take the piss, it made it impossible for you not to laugh with him.

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

“What’s knob in Italian, anyway?” Harry asked, making you laugh even harder.

And that launched the two of you into easy conversation. Almost a little too easy for the two of you to just have met. The fact that you were in a work environment didn’t seem to face you at all, which was incredibly refreshing for both. The seriousness of the meetings you had to endure most of the time so unnecessarily boring and dry that this was like a breath of fresh air. Alessandro had been right when he said you had loads in common, which you figured out in between you taking his measurements. There didn’t seem to be a topic untouched at the end of Harry’s session, and though he was done with his measurements and such, he stuck around. You two stood by the table you stood at earlier, you still holding onto the tape like once you stopped, Harry would immediately leave. Neither of you noticed how the door opened slightly. Didn’t notice Alessandro looking through the crack and at the two of you, having heard voices from behind the door when he came back from his meeting. He smiled to himself, seeing Harry laugh at something you said before he closed the door again, leaving you two to it.

You became fast friends. Though you could go a week without texting, or a day without thinking about one another, you still knew that when you next met up, you would pick up where you left off. You had formed an easy friendship like that, one which you both appreciated and knew you could come back to without problem. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would befriend someone as high profile as Harry Styles when working as a tailor. You hadn’t really thought you would befriend any celebrity when working as a tailor, actually. But here you were, friends with Harry Styles, and not at all thinking of him as someone who made hit singles or who was the new face of Gucci. Someone who made a living off of singing and who had a huge bloody fanbase supporting him. That part of his life felt surreal, but yours and Harry’s friendship was so genuine, so effortless, that you didn’t really care about the other aspects of his life as long as he was a good person.

The second time you met was at the chip shop, The Camp, in St Albans, Hertfordshire, where the photoshoot and commercial would take place. It was cloudy, the skies a dull grey that threatened with rain, but you knew would just fly right by without interrupting the film crew. The wind was annoying however, bitter at the touch, but you knew Harry was a warm blooded person and would have no problems exposing his chest and hands to it. You strolled up to the Camp School parking lot that was littered with cars and a huge white truck where you knew Harry would be, getting ready. Alessandro had other business to attend to and most of the people on set worked for Gucci, but you were there to see that the suits you had made were okay and that they properly fit. For the first fitting some weeks ago, you had been busy with another client, so Alessandro had done that himself. But he still wanted someone on sight in case something happened, because no way in hell were anyone but him or you allowed to repair a pair of torn trousers or a ruined shirt.

You knocked on the door of the truck, heard a “Come in”, and stepped inside. Harry was sitting in a makeup chair, a woman doing his hair and make-up, readying him for his first ever Gucci shoot. He opened his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror before him. Your smiles were identical when you realised who you were looking at.

“Knob.” You said, standing by the wall behind Harry.

“Wanker.” He answered, grinning at you. “You alright?”

It was something the two of you had fallen into the habit of calling one another ever since the ‘knob’ incident of your first meeting. No one really understood why, especially not the people around you. Alessandro, who thought he had been the mastermind behind a match made in heaven, was surprised to see just how good friends the two of you were. Seeing you two hit it off in his office at first, he had immediately thought he had done it, found each his friends a potential partner, but after months of nothing romantic happening, he had given up. It was clear the two of you just looked at each other as friends and nothing more. Very good friends at that.

“Yeah,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing out beyond the door you had just walked through. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Harry chuckled. “Worried about that, are you?” He thanked the make-up artist before he got up, gesturing for you to walk out first.

“Yes.” You answered, stepping out of the van. “You’ll look like a maniac if you get wet in that.”

“A maniac?!” Harry sounded appalled. “You might have to elaborate on why.”

“Wet hair, wearing a suit with no shirt, striking orange necklace, and holding a chicken?”

“No, that’s art, babe.”

You laughed. The two of you started strolling towards the chip shop.

“If anything, I’ll look irresistible wearing this and being soaked.” Harry said, saying a quick ‘hi’ to someone walking by. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

You huffed. “If I saw someone walking down the street looking like that, being soaked through, I’d have my pepper spray ready and already dialling 999.”

“Admit it, you’d not be able to keep your hands off me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me thinking you’re fit?” You laughed. A short silence followed. Your knuckles brushed against one another. Something warm lit up your chest for a single second. Harry just looked at you for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the question. But before you got the chance to look to your left and at your mate, to make sure he was fine, someone interrupted.

“Harry,” one of Glen Luchford’s assistants walked toward the two of you. “We’re ready for you.”

The photographer stood beside the art director – Christopher Simmonds - further down the street, just outside the chip shop, talking amongst themselves about something. A slight breeze blew past you, Harry’s cologne graced you for two lovely seconds as you watched the man himself follow the main photographer’s assistant. You were a couple of steps behind them, standing by yourself and watching the whole commercial unfold. Harry was handed the chicken, who flapped its wings upon being in Harry’s grasp. The look on Harry’s face had you laughing, and Harry immediately looked over at you, giving you a stern look. However, you were laughing, so it was hard for him not to crack a smile as well. Your phone vibrated in your pocket some minutes later, and you walked a distance away as not to be in the way.

“Lallo, hiya.” You greeted, scrunching your nose up as you felt the first droplet of rain hit it.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro greeted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “How’s the photoshoot?”

“Not really done much yet, but everything’s fine so far.”

He sighed again. “I am glad to hear. Did the suit fit nice like it’s supposed to?”

You glanced at Harry over your shoulder, standing on the pavement further down, ready to film. He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the white sky with big eyes. It was almost as if you could see the peaceful green of his irises. His neck was stretched as he bowed his head back, closing his eyes and letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He looked almost dreamy; peaceful for a few moments as he collected himself. Someone shouted something and Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the director. Suddenly, his eyes went to you, but they flickered away just as quickly. You looked away.

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

You kicked at a stone on the ground. “What does that mean?”

“Harry ruining the suit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “Do you have that little faith in him?”

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Alessandro asked, you could tell he was narrowing his eyes and putting his hand on his hip. He was challenging you. “Really sure?”

“Look,” you started walking towards the make-up van, aware that you most likely had to go get the make-up artist and hairdresser out if it was going to start raining. “Everything’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. If you were worried this was going to be a fail, why didn’t you prioritise this event?”

“Fine, fine. It’s not you I’m worried about, no? It’s that…” Alessandro paused for some seconds. “It’s Harry’s first Gucci shoot and I’m not there. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then I’m there to fix it. Why I’m here, remember?” You spotted the van. “I’m your eyes, ears, and hands today.”

Alessandro laughed. “Il mio amore, what would I do without you?”

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

He laughed again and you two hung up just as you knocked on the door to the make-up van. Informing them that it was drizzling out and that they might have to come do a touch-up if it got worse, you walked in as they got everything they needed. A selection of suits hung on a rack on one end of the van, some twins in case something were to happen, and others were lone ones. Regardless, you always found Alessandro’s ability to make clothes into a form of art so inspiring. It was what made you want to work with him in the first place. An abundance of colours and fabrics, of softness and roughness, of modern and rustic. The things he thought to make you’d never in your wildest dreams think of, which made doing anything for him so fascinating. Always something new, always something spellbinding.

You followed the crew out and in the direction of the shoot. It wasn’t drizzling as much anymore, but this was still England, something that meant it would happen anytime soon. The artists were chatting amongst themselves as you made your way over, you read over an email on your phone. Suddenly though, the heels that had walked right beside you stopped. You glanced up from your phone, over your shoulder at the three ladies you had gotten to help you. They stared straight ahead, and when you averted your eyes, letting them land on what they were seeing, you almost dropped your phone.

The hen Harry had been holding was flapping about, two crew members chasing it while a third one ran over to help. Someone was shouting “Stop recording” and someone else “Get the fucking chicken”. But the worst part of it all – at least for you – was Harry getting up from the asphalt. There was a furrow to his brows as he checked his suits for scratches, stopping when he saw the rip at his knee. Your brain immediately flashed back to what Alessandro had just told you.

Harry’s eyes shot up, hastily scanning the crowd around him, and you quickly realised he was looking for you. Stepping forward, you saw him relax some when his eyes landed on you. He jogged over, groaning through his teeth.

“I-“

“-Get to the bloody van, I need to take a look at the rest of your suit.”

“But there’s only the knee.” Harry said as you two started walking.

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

This seemed to become a theme for Harry’s shoots. His anxiety would get the better of him, though he did get more confident with each one that went by. It wasn’t something he was amazing at at first, but something that grew on him overtime. Just like the seasons changed from winter to spring to summer, Harry slowly got his feet off the slippery ice he seemed to have been on that first shoot in England.

However, a few months later, you were back in Italy, doing another shoot with Gucci. Harry was wearing one of the suits you had tailored for him; a checked one, a blue shirt, a silk bandana around his neck and another one in his hair. Since the last shoot, the two of you had talked over the phone, texted, and sent each other funny memes on Instagram. You hadn’t met up a whole lot, maybe the odd café trip or two with some friends, but nothing beyond that. So, meeting him in Italy, your second home, was incredibly special to you.

You were on the outside of Rome, Villa Lente, and you had spent most of your morning yawning and getting looks from Alessandro when you did so. Harry yawned with you when he caught you doing so, the two of you giggling at how ridiculous you were being. With raised eyebrows, Alessandro watched the two of you, giving you a slight flick to the arm when you distracted Harry.

But it was when Harry was perched on the stone wall, dragging some hair out of his face as he placed himself steadily on it, that was then it happened. The sun hit him just right, making the ruffle of his curls look like a golden halo around his head; green irises switching to the colour of autumn leaves where the light hit them. He looked ethereal. And in the middle of all of this, Harry reached for the lamb he was supposed to be perching on his shoulders. No one thought Harry would actually fall off the wall. No one thought he was that clumsy. But as he was hurtling towards the ground having lost his footing completely, the realisation that he was indeed that clumsy hit you just as Harry hit the stone staircase beneath the wall.

Alessandro exclaimed a few crude words in Italian, running to Harry’s aid. You stood there blinking, getting yourself back from the slight daydream you’d just had about the poor man that laid on the ground with a dozen people around him. One second he had looked like something straight out of a dream; like an angel that had come down to earth. He had looked too good and you simply had not been able to look away from him. You knew Harry was good looking, you weren’t blind, but something about the sun hitting him like that, when he smiled down at you watching him, how carefully he styled his hair when he at up on that stone wall. It did something to you.

But all of that disappeared right away when Harry hit the ground, exclaiming a grunt of pain. Alessandro was by his side in seconds, speaking so fast you had trouble understanding him. Harry held onto his knee, yet again having ripped the suit and once again bleeding, only this time it was his hand. Why was it always his knee and why did he always end up bleeding? It was only so clumsy a person could get, wasn’t it? And yet, Harry Styles seemed to be proving you very wrong. No one was as easily affected by their anxiety as him.

People crowded him, ready to be of help and to get him standing. It wasn’t like he had broken any bones, because he was able to get up onto his feet without trouble, but the fall had definitely hurt regardless. Your eyes locked as Harry’s arm came to rest around Alessandro’s shoulders, the designer helped him over to the van. Once again, Harry had to change trousers.

“How?” you simply asked, unsure what best way to even address the whole situation.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, not in the mood to have you take the mick out of him for this. “Hurts like a fucking cunt.”

Alessandro pinched Harry’s side, making him yelp and put more pressure on his knee than he wanted to, ultimately getting him to gasp. Harry glanced at the designer, an annoyed furrow forming between his brows.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

“Pinching a wounded man is rude.” Harry removed his arm from around Alessandro, limping towards the van. “I’m getting changed.”

You glanced at Alessandro, both of you knowing that no matter what, Harry would be in a bad mood for a bit now. That always happened when something didn’t go according to plan; he’d get grumpy and need some time alone. One of the assistants was about to follow him, clearly having gotten some orders from the photographer, Glen Luchford, or art director, Christopher Simmonds. You put your hand out warning them from following the already irritated and hurting star of the photoshoot. He just needed 10 minutes to cool off, and then you’d be off after him to make sure he was alright.

Once 10 minutes had passed, you knocked on the door of the make-up van, hearing a grumble of sorts before stepping inside. Harry was standing unzipping his trousers and shimmying them down his hip. It reminded you a bit of the tailoring you had done at the beginning of the year, how he had pushed both his trousers and boxers down so you could get his measurements right. He glanced over his shoulder at you before he sat down, now only his boxers covering the top part of his thighs and crotch.

“Don’t stand there looking for too long,” he said, bending over to get the trousers completely off. “I might end up turning you on.”

You stepped inside, closing the door and walking over to the first-aid kit. You felt Harry’s eyes on you as he sat back, placing the ripped trousers on the chair beside him. Getting some cotton, you put a mild soap on it and poured it under water before walking back over to Harry. You sat down in a chair, getting closer to him, and taking his hand. As you turned it over to look at the scratch on his palm, you could tell that it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be, but it still looked like it’d hurt. Carefully, you dabbed the wound, making sure to clean it up. Harry hissed through his teeth, watching as the cotton came out dirty. It hadn’t been the cleanest ground he’d landed on and you didn’t want him to get an infection.

Getting up, you got another piece of cotton and did the same, dragging the chair even closer to Harry now. Taking his hand this time around, your knuckles brushed his thigh, the dark downy hair you hadn’t noticed till now. How his boxers rested tightly around his thighs, and how far up they were, revealing more than you were intended to see. Your cheeks felt hot and you focused on his hand, lifting it from his leg so you didn’t have to feel his warm, bare thigh against your knuckles. There wasn’t really a trace of any dirt on it now, but you wanted to be sure you’d gotten everything before you let him outside again.

You were very aware Harry could rinse his own wound himself. He didn’t need people to do everything for him, he liked doing most things himself, in fact. And though both of you were sat there knowing you didn’t have to, neither stopped it. Slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest at your face. They stayed there, just watching you tend to him so carefully. When people go out of their way to help you, to make sure you’re okay, those are the kind of people to hold onto for life. The kind of people who will buy you sweets when you need it on a bad day, who will force themselves to be in a cheery mood to better yours, who will kiss your eyelids when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. The kind of people who will rinse your wound when you get hurt when you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

You didn’t know why you looked up, didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was your subconscious that knew if you did, you’d find something you’d been searching for your whole life. Maybe something inside you knew that glancing up, you’d see something you hadn’t before. Your eyes met Harry’s, and though you had stared into them on numerous occasions before, something shifted in that moment. With his hand in your hand, his bare knee resting against yours, eyes glancing intently into yours; it was like something bigger than yourselves took over. You felt it on your heart first, like a warm tingling that spread out to every single one of your limbs and cells. It felt like you were drunk; head hazy and feelings heightened. Everything about Harry before you was greater, brighter; more.

“You need to finish the shoot.” You said, knowing that Alessandro would undoubtedly not appreciate the two of you taking this long.

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared at you, like he was seeing something spectacular for the first time and he couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes softened as he gulped, his Adam’s apple moving with a lump in his throat he clearly had trouble swallowing. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes rest to your lips. Following the shape of them, savouring the colour of them. Neither of you realised you were moving in. It wasn’t till the sight of Harry started to blur and the room seem to fill with electricity that you realised just how close you were. You stopped, pulling a bit away till you saw him clearly, but a slight wrinkle to his brows told you he hadn’t appreciated that. Just as you were about to lean in again, to an unknown fate between the two of you, there was a loud knock on the door and a second later it flew open. You pushed away from him, barely even touching his hand as you finished rinsing the wound. Harry blinked, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at Alessandro who stood there glancing back at him.

“Well?” Alessandro asked, gesturing behind him at the shoot that had been momentarily stopped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes meeting yours before he dragged his hand out of your grip. “Just a sec.”

Harry got up, walking over to the wardrobe to get changed. Instantly, you threw the cotton away and walked outside with Alessandro, ready to forget the whole moment and never think of it again. But it was easier said than done. The rest of that shoot, that day, that week, it was all you could think about.

Unfortunately, after that shoot, you and Harry hadn’t been able to see one another  It was finally that time of year when you had a bit of time off to relax, and this time it happened to fall in the middle of July. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do nothing more than wander the streets of your home, see some old friends, and fully enjoy the beauties that an Italian summer had to offer. But no matter how happy you were for the time off, it was bittersweet because although Harry had just finished his world tour and now had an abundance of free time on his hands, he was fully booked until you’d see him for your next shoot.

You didn’t fault him for how he spent his time off, he did just get home after a long year long world tour, and that did warrant some time alone. But you did have to admit that you missed seeing him. Somewhere in your mind, you recall him saying he was spending some time in Italy up north with his family, but the dates were jumbled and you didn’t want to disturb his peace. Instead, you settled for knowing you’d see him again in a few short months.

You had set out for the day in order to find some new houseplants, seeing as the young girl who kept yours tended to while you were away - Lilliana - always seemed to let them wilt. It was the most perfect day to stroll down to the market and see some of the florists you’d missed while you were away, what with the sun shining it’s brightest and only the tiniest breeze ghosting by your cheeks. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. This was your time to bask in the sunlight before heading back to dreary London for some time.

Sandals clapping against the cobblestone walkway echoed through the quiet street, the sound of faint music playing from a nearby open window was carried by the breeze, filling in any silence that would be there otherwise. This was the life you had dreamt about as a child, the kind of life that you only got to read about in books or watch in films, yet here you were. It was yet another reason you had to be thankful to Alessandro for.

“Mi scusi, signora.”

You often walked down the small side street with your eyes closed briefly, not only knowing it like the back of your hands, but also basking in the warmth of the sun, so it wasn’t anything new to have someone speak up to let you know they were near. But something about that voice was familiar. Like when you walk into your home for the first time in a while and you can smell you. Like you can’t exactly put a finger on it, but you know it’s familiar, so you investigate. Which you did, and it caused you to gasp.

“Harry?”

“In the flesh.” his smile could rival the brightness of the sun that was shining between in the tall buildings as he walked up the slight incline of the street towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and through I’d stop by. See my favorite tailor.” Once he finally reached you, your arms were instantly wrapped around one another, squeezing like you hadn’t just been together weeks ago.

“Wha - how are yo-?”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless. You? Of all people?” he laughed, pulling away after giving a few rubs to your back.

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Montaione to take the piss, Harry.” you took this time to really look at him after your surprise meet up. He looked remarkable, something that quite annoyed you considering he was dressed so casually. Then again, the man could pull off close to anything. He was wearing a pair of grey trousers; a single pleat running from his waist to ankles down the middle of the leg, a plain white t shirt that perfectly accentuated his dark tattoos, and a royal blue bandana that hung loosely from around his neck. The pair of sunglasses he had worn when walking up to you were now being hung from the bandana so that he could get a better look at you, and if you had to look at his sparkling green eyes for any second longer, you were sure you would combust.

“Despite how easy it is to get under your skin, I, surprisingly, didn’t come here to do anything other than see you for a few hours.”

“A few hours? You traveled down from Modena just to hangout for a few hours?”

“Knew I was in Modena then? Keeping tabs on me while we’re apart, are you?”

Your hand jut out and shoved him hard enough to make him lose a bit of balance while you two started walking down the street, just enough so that he had to take a few steps to the side to stabilize himself.

“Thought you weren’t here to take the piss, knob.”

He laughed, nodding his head and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “Alright alright. Truce. But to answer your question, yes I did. That a bad thing?”

“Uh, no it’s not. Just a bit surprising is all. That’s a bit of a journey just for lunch.”

“And I’d make it countless more times for you.”

Over the last two years, you grew to know Harry and when he was being serious or having a laugh, so you could instantly hear the sincerity behind his words. Despite the goofy grin playing at his lips, you knew that he was being truthful, and the thought made butterflies awaken in your belly.

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” the nod you gave was more towards yourself, but when you glanced up at Harry, you saw that he was already watching you, smiling as he took in your relaxed aura.

“You too, doll.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?” just as you did each time you met up, the two of you fell into easy conversation as you made your way towards the village square. Harry was one of those people that you could go months without talking to, yet somehow, the second you met back up again, you were able to pick up right where you left off.

“Alessandro may or may not have given it to me.” his voice was timid, like he didn’t fully want to admit he had asked your boss where you lived.

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

“Mhm. Says you’re his shining star. ‘M sure the man would create a whole collection surrounding you if you give him enough time.”

“Says the woman who he looks at like his next of kin.”

“Don’t make this into a pissing contest, Harry. You know he adores you.”

“Just him?”

It felt like spending time with a lifelong mate when with Harry, but when he said shit like that, when he made your tummy flutter with his mix of words and longing gazes, it made it hard for you to see him as just a friend.

“Didn’t you say that you only had a bit before having to get back?” you changed the subject quickly, not wanting to answer his question.

“Not get back, ‘m not headed back to Modena.” he shook his head when you sent him a soft, questioning ‘no?’ “Nope. Flying down to Sicily for a few days for Google Camp.”

“Google Camp?” your eyebrows shot up in question when he told you, “A sumit for the rich and famous to talk about climate change while flying in on private jets and yachts. How very unlike you mister Styles.”

“Oi, lay off. Got invited, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to turn it down. Besides,” he shrugged, “‘M flying commercial and carpooling. Being as eco friendly as possible.”

“Course, of course.”

“I have four hours until my flight, so just shut up and come get lunch with me.”

The room had gone totally dim during your trip down memory lane, indicating that it was time for everyone to begin getting in their places so that the show could begin. But even in the low lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the look of fear and doubt flash through Harry’s eyes. The look was something that appeared before every shoot or campaign you had been present for, only lasting seconds, yet always intriguing to you. The man before you was a superstar, someone who pranced around on stage in front of tens of thousands of people every night, without a care in the world. Yet, as soon as your exquisitely tailored clothes touched his body, his shoulders would tense, and he looked like a scared child. You’d never understood why.

“You’re nervous.” It came out as more of a breathy statement than a question.

“‘M terrified.”

You heard those words regularly from your models, especially the new ones, but hearing it fall from between his lips made your stomach tighten. Harry was such a natural at all of this; the superstardom. It was easy to tell that he felt right at home while on stage, how perfectly natural his body reacted whenever the camera was on for a red carpet, how easy going he was when it came to hair and makeup and outlandish outfits. All of it came so easy to him and it blew you away every time you got to witness it. And while he was so good at adjusting quickly to new environments, his team and fans constantly cheering him on with every new endeavor, he was still just a normal twenty five year old guy. He still FaceTimed his mum to get her opinion on new looks, still went out and enjoyed his free time with mates, and still got anxious when trying something new. He never seemed to want to disappoint you or Alessandro when he was wearing the clothes you’d made for him specifically. That was what got to him, you thought, the prospect of ruining spectacular clothes you’d made from scratch. The moments in time you’d just thought back on was indicator enough.

“It’s gonna be great. We saw you during the runthrough yesterday.” you smiled, reminding him how well he had done during the practice show.

“But that’s different. This time it means somethin-” he was cut off by Alessandro yelling it was time for all models to officially line up for showtime. “What if I go too fast and I step on Mae’s shoe, fuck up her walk? Or too slow and clog up the entire runway? Or the hat fal-”

“Hey!” To stop his incessant worrying, your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him stop for a second and look directly at you. He blinked once. “Stop it. You’re going to do amazing. Alessandro wouldn’t have put you in this show if he didn’t have complete confidence in you. And you should know by now I wouldn’t have wasted my oh so precious time making any of this fit you perfectly if I didn’t believe in you.”

Harry’s breathing began calming down, going from almost hysterical to a gentle, rhythmic, intake, indicating that he was coming out of his panic bubble. His eyes never left your own, quite different from all the times they had openly roamed your figure.

“You can do this.” You whispered, nodding slightly and sending him a loving smile as your hands dropped back down to your sides,

Alessandro’s voice yelled over everyone, demanding everyone be in their place immediately, but Harry made no move to leave your side. He continued staring at you, taking a few deep breaths every few seconds and nodding to himself, seeming to give himself a pep talk in his head. The lights went out in the museum, leaving the audience in complete darkness, and you knew the intense sound of an alarm would soon be echoing through the building to start the show.

But none of that held your attention.

In what could have only been a second, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was so quick that you didn’t have time to register what had happened before he was turning to run and join the other models, but it left you stunned. Like being in the warmth of your home during a snowy day and suddenly opening the door, letting the freezing wind hit you in the face.

And as much as the kiss had taken you off guard, it felt so very right that small second it happened. He hadn’t even given it a second thought, leaning in to kiss you like the two of you had been an item for years and it was part of your normal everyday routine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the thought alone made your fingertips ache to be on his skin again. Shaking yourself out the haze that had formed around you mind, your focus and priorities flipped like a switch as soon as the siren began playing, looking around the room to make sure everyone and everything was where it needed to be.  

Just as the precession of models began exiting the dressing room, and The Shadows Die Twice by Br1002 ranging throughout the museum, you made your way up to stand beside Alessandro. There was never a time you saw him truly stressed; not when you first started working with him and you accidentally ruined an entire bundle of fabric, not when he was in charge of creating dozens of different looks for the Met Gala, and not even now, watching as his newest collection strutted down the runway, making its worldwide debut. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.

“There she goes.” You admired, resting your head on your boss’ shoulder and watching all 217 of the looks he created and you helped bring to life, be released into the world.

The sense of pride that rushed through your veins each and every time you got to see the pieces you put your heart and soul into, was similar to what you could only imagine it was like for a parent to watch their child flourish. You could remember all the moments during the months leading up to the show that you wanted to quit, when you would get so frustrated with Alessandro and his brilliantly creative mind every time he brought you a new look idea, how badly you wanted to scream after pricking your fingers so much they started to bruise. You remembered all of those times when holding such an important job at Gucci felt like something you just weren’t ready for at the age of twenty four. But every hardship was worth it the moment your work came to a culmination. This moment of absolute pride and excitement.

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you’d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

“You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?’ to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[straightupsickfics]

hi! if you don’t mind me being a little greedy bc I truly can’t choose which prompt to send (they’re all too good🥺), I would love 💕+💨+😪 for literally anyone🥺

ahhh not greedy at all! what about... a cute allergic bucky 🥺

handholding + breezy afternoons + sniffles

****

Bucky’s walking towards a display of carrots when he stops so suddenly that Sam almost walks right into him. 

“You good?” Sam asks Bucky, eyebrows knitting together at the bleary, unfocused expression Bucky’s face has taken on. He blinks at Sam a few times, like he’s trying to decide something, then shakes his head. 

“Hh! Iih...Ish! Hdt’ISH! It’shh!” 

Sam frowns. “Bless you! What’s getting to you so bad today?” He asks. It’s not the first time Bucky’s had to stop for a similar, ticklish-sounding fit like this, yanking his right elbow up to do what he could to muffle the sound. 

Bucky shrugs, sniffling a few times before giving Sam an embarrassed smile. “I’m not sure, but I’m gonna go with... everything?”

When Sam gives him a sympathetic look, Bucky shakes his head. “I’m fine, though. Just allergies,” he promises. 

It’s the first truly warm, breezy day of spring, and the perfect afternoon for the first day of the town’s farmer’s market. They’re here with instructions from Sarah, and Sam’s got a list in his phone he keeps peering at, eyebrows furrowed. It’s cute, if only because it’s Sam and Bucky’s coming to learn there’s very little he wouldn’t enjoy watching him do. 

“Alright,” Sam agrees. “But you’ll let me know if it’s too much for you, right, city boy?” He shoots Bucky a teasing smile, but links their hands together as they continue walking. 

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky says, and at Sam’s eye roll, he changes the subject. “What’s next?” he asks. He looks down the row of tents and tables, people browsing produce and homemade pies and talking like old friends. Which, given what Sam’s told him about this town, they probably are.

“Apples. Specifically granny smith apples,” Sam tells him, and Bucky gives him a mock salute, accepting their mission. He manages to keep his nose under control after that, keeping his sunglasses on so the sun and the pollen didn’t bother his eyes so much, and sniffling here and there without incident.

They find the apples, and the romaine lettuce, and the extra-spicy salsa they all agreed was best from Roberto’s table, and Bucky makes it through most of the list with little more than a few discreet nose rubs. Something definitely is getting to him today, though, what with the way he feels almost constantly on the verge of sneezing, but it’s the perfect day, and Sam is so clearly in his element, introducing Bucky to his neighbors and friends, people his parents grew up with, Bucky doesn’t want to make it into a whole thing.

He’s nodding along, trying to follow a conversation with an older guy named Stan when Bucky feels his nose give a little twitch, and he taps Sam on the hip before turning away with an apologetic wave of his hand. 

“H’Iiesh! Hdt’ish! Tsh! EiiSHHih!” The fit leaves him watery-eyed and sniffling, and by the time he looks up, Sam’s alone, looking at him with a mix of fondness and concern.

“God bless you! Okay, I think it’s time we reacquaint you with the great indoors,” Sam says, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist and leading them away from the hustle and bustle of the vendors. 

Bucky wants to argue, to tell Sam he’s fine to stay and enjoy the rest of the afternoon, but his sinuses have other plans, and instead he pulls the collar of his t-shirt up and sneezes again. “eeH’ISHH! Tsh’IEW!”

“Bless,” Sam says again. “Come on, let’s go home, we got everything we came for anyway.”

Bucky frowns, scrubbing at his face with his right hand. “You’re sure?” His whole face feels itchy now. 

“Positive. If you’re good you can even learn the super-secret Wilson apple pie recipe when we get there.” He gestures to the apples.

Bucky smiles, still sniffling as he takes Sam’s hand in his again. Home definitely had a nice ring to it.

[aewriting]

Tell me about the Vegas AU?

The “Vegas AU,” as I call it, involves Jesse pretty much blackmailing Michael to leave town and leave Alex alone.  Michael ends up going to Las Vegas, and does not know that Alex has been injured.  Alex ends up moving in with Greg.  This is one that gets a bit fuzzy after that setup.  There are aspects I still really like about it, but I’m sitting on it until I can think up some next steps for it. I haven’t worked on this one in a while or posted about it in a while, so if anyone wants to read what I’ve posted so far of it, it’s below the cut.

“Another round, Roberto!”

 Roberto eyes him warily. “I dunno, man. Maria said - “

 “Maria loves me,” Michael says, waggling an eyebrow and leaning over the bar. He sees Roberto swallow nervously. “We go way back. Class of ‘08, Roswell High,” he says, and slams the rest of his shot.

 “I’ll handle this, Roberto,” he hears, and there’s DeLuca suddenly, looking... well, hot as fuck, honestly, but also pissed as hell.

 She snatches Michael’s empty glass off the bar. “The fuck are you doing, Guerin?” She wrinkles her nose at him. “You’re so past shitfaced right now, even for you. And you can’t afford it. You were already in the hole - “

 “Would have remembered that,” he says suggestively, just to be an ass about it.

 “Oh my god,” Maria mutters. “That’s it. You’re done.”

 “Sorry, that was stupid.”

 “Nope, you’re done,” she repeats. “You’re done tonight.” She shoves his hat toward him, across the bar. “And don’t come back till you can pay. In full.”

 “How much does he owe you, Maria?”

 Michael’s eyes narrow, because Maria’s just frozen. She’d looked angry, before, fiery. The anger’s still there, but now it’s... cold. Contained.

 Jaw tight, she glances at Michael, then at the man behind him. “Including tonight? $90, give or take.”

 Michael’s eyes widen as two crisp fifty dollar bills are placed on the bar, quickly followed by a third.

 “That’s to cover his tab. And your troubles. With whatever’s left, I’ll take two glasses of your best whiskey. For me and the young man, here.”

 Michael can see Maria’s need for cash warring with her evident dislike of this man. He sees the moment she decides, quickly palming the money, holding the bills tight in her clenched fist.

 “Coming up,” she says tightly, casting a quick little glance toward Michael before she goes that looks almost... concerned?

 No matter. Michael heaves a sigh. Some old guy wants to buy him a drink, the least he can do is lay on some charm. “I’m awfully grateful - “ he starts as he slowly turns around.

 Freezes.

 Because it’s Jesse Manes behind him, looking at him with those cold eyes.

 “Hello, Michael.”

 Michael hates the panic that starts rising in him. He grabs his hat, begins to stand.

 Feels Jesse grip his hand, the left one. “Sit. Down.”

 He could snap every finger, right now. It would be nearly effortless. If they were alone, he might do it... might do worse. But Maria’s watching them, out of the corner of her eye. This is so public.

 And there’s Alex.

 Alex who... Michael takes a moment to calculate in his fuzzy head. Alex who is probably back on base by now. Maybe. Preparing to fucking deploy. Alex who is still uncomfortably intertwined with his monster of a father, and while Michael doesn’t mind causing trouble for himself - hell, that was his whole purpose in coming to the Pony tonight and getting brain meltingly drunk - he’ll be damned if he causes trouble for Alex.

 So he sits down.

 “Good boy,” Jesse says with a smug little grin, like Michael’s a goddamn dog.

 “Here,” Maria says curtly, placing two glasses of whiskey on the bar in front of them, frowning as she stares at Jesse’s strong hand covering Michael’s wrecked one.

 Jesse gives her a little nod as Michael tugs his hand away, flexing it unconsciously. Jesse picks up a glass, takes a small sip. Stares at Michael. “Drink up.” Michael just looks at him, so tense. Jesse shrugs a little. “Didn’t take you as one to turn down free liquor.”

 He’s managed to avoid Jesse Manes for over seven years. He, he’s seen him a few times - walking around town, at the Crashdown, one memorable morning at the Sheriff’s station while Michael was still in the drunk tank. But there was no avoiding now. Michael picks up the whiskey, drinks a little. The burn is worse than usual, despite the improved quality.

 Jesse narrows his eyes at him. “We need to talk, Michael.”

 Michael keeps his mouth shut. Frowns.

 Jesse leans in a bit, and Michael tries hard not to instinctively back away. “You’ve been messing around with something that belongs to me,” he says, voice low and cold.

 And at that, Michael can’t contain himself. “He doesn’t belong to you,” he says harshly, probably too loud for this particular setting.

 Jesse raises an eyebrow. “Well at least you’re not denying it.”

 “Nothing to fucking deny.”

 Jesse’s mouth twists a bit. “No. Suppose you don’t think so, the way you rub everyone else’s face in your own filth.”

 How dare he. Michael... Michael could hurt this man. Wants to hurt this man. Thinks of the the ways he’s hurt Alex. Thinks of the way Alex makes Michael hide their interactions, be so careful.

 Jesse takes a small little sip of his drink, shakes his head. “Thought I was very clear. Years ago,” he says, looking pointedly at Michael’s hand. “This thing between the two of you needs to stop.”

 Michael swallows down his own fury, his own intense bitterness and hurt. It feels... bizarre to be having this conversation with Jesse Manes, of all people, when he’s never talked about it with anyone else. Not even Alex, really.

 “There... there’s no thing,” Michael says, hating how wounded he sounds. Because there isn’t. Not... not that there ever was, not really, but Michael had at least had hope before, at times. After this last time, though, the things he and Alex had said...

 Jesse scoffs, shakes his head. “I followed you. To the motel.” Michael can feel his stomach drop. “Heard the two of you. Like... like animals,” Jesse says, tone dripping with revulsion. He looks right at Michael then. “Saw some of the marks you left him with, that he tried to hide.”

 Michael’s willing his breath to remain even, willing himself not to shatter every glass in this damn bar. “What did you do to him?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

 “Not a damn thing,” Jesse says. “Drove him back to base so he can ship off to Iraq and continue to serve his country like the decorated airman he is.”

 Michael scoffs, rolls his eyes.

 Jesse glares at him. “Do you know what he’s risking? Every time he’s with you?” He shakes his head. “Has he told you?”

 Michael’s looking at him blankly.

 “That’s what I thought,” Jesse says tightly. Leans back in seat a bit. “I kept up with you over the years. So I know about the drunk and disorderlies, the petty theft, the lewd behavior and indecency charges.” He narrows his eyes. “Alex know how often you’re down here, drinking cheap liquor you can’t afford, leaving with anyone that’ll have you?”

 Michael can feel his face flushing, the sting of tears just below the surface. He looks down, sniffs, plasters on a shit eating grin. “You have been keeping a close watch. Could make a guy wonder,” Michael says, cocking an eyebrow.

 He sees the tick of Jesse’s jaw. “Wanted to see who my son was risking his entire career for.” Jesse looks him up and down, seems disgusted. “And it doesn’t reflect well on you. Or him.”

 Michael shakes his head a little, looks away. He... he’s used to being told he’s a piece of shit. Lives down to it. But this, Jesse bringing Alex into it...

 “You’ve done a lot of the work for me. Thought my son had finally gotten his head on straight and realized that there was no future with his hometown...” Jesse’s eyes narrow as he gestures at Michael. “Whatever you are to him.” He takes a little sip of whiskey, eyes Michael. “Thought it was done, actually, till the motel.”

 Michael swallows. “There’s nothing there, okay?” Michael says, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. “Alex... Alex is smart. Knows there’s nothing for him here.”

 A waste. That’s what Alex had said, what he’d called him, this last time. A waste.

 Jesse studies him. “Then maybe it’s time you and I got on the same page,” he says, taking out an envelope, fat to the point of bulging. Opening it up. Flashing the neatly folded cash. “This is the easy way to do this, Michael. There’s a hard way, too. What do you say?”

 Michael’s just blinking. Once. Twice. Looking at the cash. There’s... so much there. More than he could make for months at the ranch. “I... I don’t...”

 Jesse rolls his eyes, shuts the envelope. “There’s ten grand in there. Take it and leave. Don’t contact my son again. You do and... and I make things worse for you, okay? You know I could do it,” he says, looking deliberately down at Michael’s hand.

 And Michael’s angry now. “What the fuck man?” he exclaims, eyes flashing. “You... you think you can just come in here, flashing cash, and buy me off?”

 Jesse scoffs a bit. “You’re asking? Seriously? Yes,” he says meanly. “You are a drunken day-laborer that lives in a trailer. You’ve got holes in your shirt and shit on your boots. So yes, I think I can give you ten thousand dollars and give you a new start somewhere of your choice. Somewhere without my son.”

 Michael clenches his jaw, pushes back from the bar, too fast, and the stool clatters to the ground.

 “Michael?” Maria asks, startled, but Michael’s too angry to reply.

 “Fuck you,” he says, leaning toward Jesse, baring teeth.

 Jesse’s eyes narrow. “Michael,” he warns.

 “No.” Michael says, shaking his head. “Fuck you, Manes,” he says, itching to reach out with his powers, put Jesse through the goddamn wall. “Fuck you and your money,” he says.

 And he can’t help it this time - he nudged Jesse’s stool off balance, just a little, sending it - and Jesse - to the floor.

 He starts walking - doesn’t stop when he hears Maria shouting, doesn’t stop when he hears Jesse Manes’s damnable voice assuring Maria that he’s fine. Michael pushes through the crowded Pony, exits the bar, and heads straight for his truck at the far side of the lot.

 He pulls the door shut, locks the truck with his powers, and reaches for a bottle of acetone, only to find it drained.

 “God damn it,” he mutters, and such a stupid little thing, it pushes him over the edge. Fuck... fuck everything. This shit is just... too much. It was already too much, had been too much for years. But the past few days, with Alex leaving for a fucking war zone, their fight, and now Jesse Fucking Manes confronting him at the Pony and trying to buy him off? No wonder he’s drunk right now.

 Shit.

 He’s... fuck. He’s really, really drunk right now. Too drunk to drive, he knows. He could call Isobel. But then she’s ask questions - why hadn’t he replied to her texts the last few days, where had he been, why was he shit-faced?

 Michael sighs. It’s not too cold tonight. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s slept it off in the Pony lot. Unbidden, he imagines what Alex would say, if he could see him now, sauced and weepy. Probably the same thing he’d said to him before he’d stormed out of the motel. You’re a waste, Guerin.

 It’s the last thing a Michael thinks as he nods off.

 ***

 “Michael.”

 “Mmm, don’t go.”

 “Michael!”

 “Stay, please.”

 “Michael, I am not fucking around - get up right now.”

 Michael startles awake, out of what he thinks was a dream. It’s too bright, too loud, and, fucking hell, Max is here, rapping on his window with a fucking flashlight.

 “Fuck,” he mutters, letting his head fall back against the cracked leather of his seat.

 Max shakes his head, starts pounding the flashlight against the window again.

 “Hold on one fucking minute, okay?” Michael rubs at his eyes, tries to orient himself. He’s certainly hungover - maybe even still drunk. His mouth is dry, fuzzy, foul tasting. And, Jesus, is Max about to pound on the window again? He reaches low on the door, begins to manually roll down the window.

 He does it slowly on purpose, taking his time on each revolution. Max looks ready to burst. As soon as the window is low enough, Max leans in close, as if he’s trying to physically shove his face into the car.

 “What the fuck were you thinking, Michael?” he grits out, voice low.

 Michael looks at him blankly, and Max leans in even more.

 “Getting into a fight with Jesse Manes? In public?”

 Michael lets his head hang, shakes it a bit. So this is why Max is here? “I didn’t lay a fucking hand on him, Max.”

 Max’s frown deepens. “Well you don’t have to, do you?” he says, barely audible.

 Michael snorts a little. “You don’t have a fucking clue,” he says, immediately regrets it. Because Max doesn’t know the history here, and Michael doesn’t want him to, just wants him to go away.

 But Max doesn’t press for detail, just looks stern. “Michael, cut the attitude. This...” He falters. Actually looks a little... worried? Scared? “This is serious, okay?”

 “What are you talking about?” Michael asks, and he takes a look around for the first time since being woken up.

 There are three police cruisers here. Surrounding his truck. He sees Max’s partner, the hot blonde, talking to Maria. Maria who... who looks like she just got pulled out of her bed. She has a silky camisole and shorts on, with flip flops. A thick patterned blanket pulled around her shoulders to stave off the cold. It keeps slipping, and Michael can see her nipples through the thin material. He swallows hard. He’s long thought she was attractive, going back to high school, really, had idly wondered what she’d look like in a morning-after situation. He hadn’t intended to find out like this. He meets her eyes, briefly, and she looks away quickly. She looks... she looks worried.

 Further away, he sees Michelle Valenti and... shit. Jesse. Jesse’s nodding solemnly at the moment as he speaks with the Sheriff.

 “What the fuck is going on, Max?”

 Max’s shoulders slump. “Do you really not know?”

 Michael shakes his head. “Is this about me parking at the Pony overnight? Cause I’ve done it before and Maria’s never busted me over it. Seems excessive,” he complains, glancing quickly in her direction. Again, she looks away as soon as they make eye contact. “Like, would she have rather I drove drunk?”

 Max is just staring at him. “We have dozens of witnesses that say you and Jesse Manes has an altercation in which you repeatedly yelled ‘fuck you’ at him and mentioned money.”

 Michael sniffs, narrows his eyes. “And?”

 Max’s eyes dart from side to side, and he leans in close. “Michael, if you did it, just tell me and I’ll try my best to help you, okay? Just tell me where it is.”

 Michael feels cold. “What?”

 Max bites his lip. “Manes says you stole his wallet last night. We’ve got a search warrant for you and the truck.”

 “Fuck,” Michael says, and he knows. Knows that Jesse’s screwed him. On instinct, he whirls around in his seat, looks to the other side of the lot where Jesse is standing.

 And smiling. Right at him.

 He turns around in his seat. Looks at Max. “I didn’t do it, Max. We fought in the bar, yeah,” he says, and he sees Jesse and Michelle walking toward the truck. “Just words,” he adds hastily. “And, um, I knocked him off his stool. With my powers.” He sees Max’s disapproving face, presses on. “But I didn’t steal his wallet.” He remembers, then, the way Jesse had referred to Alex. “I didn’t take anything that belongs to him,” he adds quietly. “I didn’t.”

 “Mr. Guerin?” Michelle Valenti is standing right next to Max now, looking serious. “Could you please step out of the car?”

 Michael mouth twists. “Do I have a choice?”

 “We have a warrant,” she says.

 “So I’ve heard,” Michael says, glaring at Max. With a sigh, he unlocks the truck, opens the door, and steps out. Watches as the Sheriff begins rummaging around in his glove box. Max’s partner - Jenny, maybe? - has hopped into the bed of the truck, is combing through his blankets, his tools. She stops, frowns.

 “Sheriff?” she calls. Michelle walks around to the side of the truck and Max’s partner holds up a small item. Michael’s stomach drops. It’s a wallet.

 Sheriff Valenti looks at it. Frowns. “Jesse?” she calls, and Jesse quickly walks over.

 Jesse’s eyes widen as he gets closer. “That’s it, alright.”

 The Sheriff nods. “Could you check it for me? Make sure there’s nothing missing?”

 “Of course,” Jesse says. He opens it, eyes the cash, the cards. “Everything’s here, thank goodness. Thank you, Sheriff.”

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Flatbush & Atlantic: part x

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii part ix

And we’ve finally come to the end of Cass and Mat’s story! I want to thank every person who’s read this over the past few months, especially those of you who have reblogged, commented, and shared this with your friends. Your feedback means the world to me, and please tell me what you think of this final part! I’ve also got some ideas floating around for an epilogue, so don’t be surprised if that pops up in the next few weeks.

part x

May 21 (fri)

For once, it wasn’t Cass’ alarm that woke her up. Her internal clock didn’t let her sleep in past 6, but as she lay in her bed, comforter pulled up to her chin and curls up in a haphazard messy bun, a realization struck her. She didn’t have anything to do, and that was just about as far from normal for her as possible. Normally, she’d be hopping in the shower at this time, getting out and shoveling some cereal down her throat before running to catch the train, or desperately trying to finish some last-minute reading before an early lecture. Her grandparents’ flight didn’t land at JFK until 1, and she wouldn’t need to leave until an hour before that to get Mat and drive to the airport. 

Padding out to the kitchen, she just caught Ryanne, who was about to leave for a clinical rotation. “What department are you in this month?” Cass asked.

“OB/GYN,” Ryanne responded. “I got to observe a birth the other day, and it was one of my favorite things I’ve gotten to do so far. Obviously I don’t know for sure yet, but I think I might want to match into it. You get to do a little bit of everything — there’s some surgery, some routine care, some deliveries. And with the Black maternal health crisis, I figure we need all the Black OBs we can get as a country.” 

Cass smiled. “That’s wonderful, I’m glad to hear.” She knew that Ryanne had been a little stressed out with the prospect of trying to pick a residency; she hadn’t felt drawn to any of the other rotations she’d gone through quite like this one. 

“What about you? What’s your schedule like today?” Ryanne asked as she poured coffee into her travel mug. 

Cass flopped down on the couch, looking over at her. “It’s just...I have nothing to do. Nothing needs to get done. No cases to read, no essays to finish, no paperwork to file or anything. Chris gave me this week off for finals anyways, so I couldn’t even go into the office if I wanted to because there’s just nothing for me to do. Do you know how rare that is for me?”

Ryanne laughed. “Cass, I’m in med school. The last time I had a true ‘off day’ was two weeks ago, and even then I spent most of it studying.” She slung her backpack over one shoulder. “See you tonight, have a good day, babe!”

After some toast and a smoothie, Cass was back on the couch, trying desperately to think of something to do. She thrived on being busy, thrived on feeling like she was needed and contributing to something worthwhile. Pushing herself up, she walked back to her room, deciding to change and go out for a run. Cass liked to keep in shape and exercise as often as she could, even though it had been a few years since she had been on an organized sports team. She was usually able to make yoga classes at the school gym twice a week, but typically didn’t have the spare time in the mornings for a run. And by the time she got back it was almost always dark, way too late to even think about going out alone. 

Lacing up her tennis shoes and grabbing her AirPods and keys, she set out, down the stairs and past the door. As she jogged down the streets, making familiar turn after familiar turn, Cass realized something remarkably profound. Every place she passed had played a part in the last three years. St. Lucy’s, where she had stumbled in with inconsolable tears after her abuelo’s stroke, lighting a candle and praying with some old Italian woman for his recovery. The bodega on the corner run by Carlos Gonzalez, one of the first people she met when she moved to the city and the only one who knew how to smoosh her sandwiches down how she likes. The Edible Arrangements where she, Stella, and Ryanne had bought Alicia a congratulatory fruit bouquet for finally asking out her coworker Juliette. They had been dating for six months. The high school she passed every morning on her way to the subway station. These were the people and places that had made her life what it was, and she owed them her thanks. 

An hour and five miles later, Cass decided to call it quits, walking the last few blocks back to the apartment as a sort of cool-down. She jumped in the shower, throwing her hair up in a towel once she got out and resigning herself to watching whatever was on TV. Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives it was, apparently. Four episodes and one snack break later, it was time to get in the car to head over and pick up Mat. Cass drove down Manhattan Island, tapping her fingers in boredom as she hit yet more traffic. It was noon, why was there even traffic in the first place? She pulled into the visitor’s spot in the underground lot of Mat’s apartment complex, taking out her phone. Just got here! Mat popped out of the elevator a few minutes later, holding a bouquet of tulips. “Sorry I’m late, I was going back and forth between tulips and sunflowers for awhile, but I figured the pink was maybe a better choice? What do you think?” Cass started to laugh, and Mat looked offended. “What?”

“Babe, it’s so sweet that you want to impress my grandma, but have you thought about how the poor flowers will fare?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Cass adjusted her seatbelt, leaning over. “We’re going to be out for awhile. We’re not going straight back to their hotel. So…” she prompted.

“They’ll wilt.” Mat finished, his face falling. 

She covered his hand with her own. “Don’t worry. It’s a sweet gesture and I’m sure she’ll appreciate them. We’re all going out for dinner after the ceremony tomorrow, why don’t you bring them then?” 

He perked up. “I’ll run up and put them back in a vase, be back in a few!” Mat gave Cass a quick peck on her cheek, leaving her with just one question. Mat owned vases? He slid back into the passenger’s seat shortly after, clicking his seatbelt in and connecting his phone to the speakers. 

Cass rolled her eyes. “I don’t know a single guy your age who’s not obsessed with John Mayer. It’s kind of weird, honestly.”

“You don’t like him?” Mat asked curiously. Cass was usually into more guitar-based, acoustic stuff, so he figured she’d be into at least some of his stuff. 

“Some of it,” Cass responded, pulling out of the lot and onto the street. “Go ahead and play it, I don’t mind at all. Not what I’d usually put on if I’m alone, that’s all.”

Mat nodded, looking absentmindedly out the window. “So, what should I know about your grandparents?”

Cass’ face immediately burst into a smile at their mention. It was always so clear how much she loved her family, and that was one of Mat’s favorite things about her. How hard she loved. “Alright, so it’s Dolores and Roberto Cabrera. They’re wonderful people, I genuinely think you’re going to like them a lot. They’re both super fluent in English, so don’t worry about communication. They originally immigrated to Texas when they were in their teens, abuela was a housekeeper at a few hotels in San Antonio and abuelo worked in the fields for awhile before getting a job at a little hardware store in town, where he worked until they retired. My mom’s the middle of four, two older sisters and a younger brother.”Mat listened intently. “My abuelo’s a little more rough around the edges, so don’t be surprised if he gives you  a little bit of a hard time, but it’s not out of malice or anything. He’s always been very protective over us, my mom and her siblings, and now us three. He might do the whole ‘nobody’s good enough for my Cassidy” thing, but he’ll get over it. He means well.” 

She glanced over at Mat, who was looking decidedly nervous. “Seriously, chou, it’s going to be fine. Abuela’s totally different, they’re like polar opposites. I can almost guarantee that she’ll say something to the effect of ‘if my granddaughter loves you, I love you.’ Very much go with the flow, she’ll probably want to come over to your apartment and cook for you.” Her expression softened. “As long as you’re kind and respectful, they won’t have an issue with you, Mat. They’ll see that you treat me how I deserve to be treated and love me like I deserve to be loved.”

Cass pulled into the garage by the international arrivals terminal, cutting the gas and checking the time. “The flight was supposed to land at one, so they should be getting out of passport control by the time we get inside.” It was a little after one thirty, but if there was anything Cass knew, it was just how long customs could take at an airport as big as JFK. Even in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and even though her grandparents were travelling on their American passports and could use the citizen’s line, she had heard that it could take upwards of an hour or two to get through. 

The concourse was pretty bare apart from a few kiosks selling “I ❤️ NY” shirts and a surprisingly busy Noah’s Bagels, so Mat and Cass made themselves comfortable on one of the rows of plastic chairs lining the room. The arrivals screen had marked their flight from Mexico City as having landed nearly an hour prior, so it was little surprise when Cass popped up from the chair, straightening her shirt and walking over to a couple that he could only assume were her grandparents. Mat quickly followed, catching up to her just as she threw her arms around her grandma. “Abuela, te extrañé,” she said, the sound muffled by Dolores’ scarf. She pulled back, kissing her grandpa on the cheek before stepping over to Mat, one hand placed reassuringly on his back. “Abuela, abuelo, this is Mat, my boyfriend.”

Mat stuck his hand out, shaking theirs. “Mr. and Mrs. Cabrera, it’s so amazing to finally meet you. Cass speaks so highly of you, and she always talks about her summers in Hermosillo.” 

Dolores pulled Mat in, embracing him from the start just as Cass had expected. “Mat, it’s wonderful to finally meet you. Cassidy has told us so much about you, it’s clear she loves you a great deal.”

Mat ducked his head and blushed. “I’m not sure if she can love me more than I love her, but I’m happy to be in such good company.” 

He took both of their suitcases as Cass gestured to the sliding doors. “I want to get back to the car before they charge me for another half hour,” she said. 

Mat slid the bags in the trunk of the car as Dolores got in the passenger’s seat. With a gulp, Mat realized that meant he had to sit next to Roberto. He had been perfectly nice on the walk over, but as Cass had warned him, it was clear that he was a little guarded. Whether that was just his personality or whether Mat had yet to earn his trust hadn’t been determined. 

Her grandparents had been to New York once or twice before, but it had almost always been just to fly in before driving up to visit Cass’ family in Connecticut; they had never really been able to see the city. Cass  felt strongly that that had to change, so she had arranged for a mini-tour of Manhattan before they got dropped off at their hotel for the night. “So, Mat,” Dolores said, turning around in her chair, “Cassidy tells us you’re a hockey player? That must be so exciting, how long have you been playing?”

Mat nodded. “Yes ma’am. I play for the Islanders, so we’re right here in Brooklyn, but I live over in Manhattan. I’ve been playing the sport since I was four or so? Really little. But I just finished my fourth season on the Islanders. And it is exciting, I love being with my team and being on the ice, it’s one of the best feelings in the world.” 

“That must keep you busy, though?” Roberto asked gruffly. 

Mat froze. He couldn’t lie and say that he was home all the time, able to be there for Cass as often as he’d like to, because he wasn’t. But if he let on just how often he was gone, would that make him even more wary? “Oftentimes, yes,” Mat began slowly. “The team’s usually on two or so road trips a month, they’re usually about a week long. But they’re balanced out with plenty of home games, and there’s lots of guys who balance the job with a family and other responsibilities. I’m always excited to be able to be back in New York, I love it here. And to be with Cass.” Roberto nodded, not seemingly totally satisfied but content enough to not push the issue further. 

“He’s really good about spending time with me, abuelo, even though we’ve both got busy schedules,” Cass added, catching Roberto’s eye in the rearview mirror. “We meet in the morning before a class to get coffee, or lunch in between studying if I’ve got time. I go to every game I’m able to when he’s playing here in the city, or over in Jersey. We spend plenty of time together, he doesn’t blow me off. You don’t have to worry.” He seemed much more at ease with his granddaughter’s response. 

It was a whirlwind three hours around New York, Cass playing chauffeur as they went to the top of the Empire State Building — her pick — in St. Patrick’s Cathedral  — her grandpa’s pick — and around Central Park, stopping at one of the many pretzel carts for a snack. They dropped them off at the hotel, Cass’ eyes getting misty as her grandma pulled out the serape stole from her purse. Her fingers danced over the colors, the stripes of red and blue and pink and green, and knowing that it was made by the hands of someone so important to her made it all the more beautiful. The rest of her family was driving in later that night, after Nick got out of school, so everyone wouldn’t be together until the graduation ceremony the next day. 

The couple decided to get takeout on the way back to Mat’s apartment, Mat jumping out of the car to run in and pick up the order while Cass circled the block until he was out. As they sat on the couch, cuddled into each other as they broke into the boxes of Chinese food, Cass thought absentmindedly that Mat handled his chopsticks way better than she ever would have given him credit for. Her grandparents had been on her mind. More specifically, her grandparents and Mat had been on her mind. It wasn’t that she thought he had messed up in any way — she was positive he’d absolutely won over her grandma and her grandpa was slowly but surely coming around — but some lingering concerns about what they might think about their relationship. “I’m not sure that they’d actually care, but when you talk to them tomorrow maybe don’t mention how often I sleep over here? They’re wonderful people, but they’re a little old school about this stuff.” 

“This stuff?” Mat asked curiously. 

“Living together, sex before marriage, that kind of stuff.” 

“And how do you feel about it?” 

Cass raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think you could ever get me to do something I didn’t want to do? I’m way too stubborn for that.” Mat threw his head back, laughing. “But seriously. I don’t make the decision lightly, because commitment and intimacy in that way is something really big and important to me. You already knew that I don’t do hookups, it’s just not my thing. But I can see this, us, going places. I want us to go places. And I’ve never been very good at listening to people when I don’t want to. So I’ve made my peace that my choices might not be ones everyone would be thrilled with, but it doesn’t really matter to me as long as I have you.” 

Mat nodded, putting down his food to card one hand through her curls. “I get that, I do. Obviously that’s not so much the attitude with a lot of the boys, but your principles are part of what makes you who you are, and I love who you are. Every part of you.” Cass smiled against his neck, leaning down and kissing him on the shoulder. “I want us to go places too, I hope you know that.”

“Glad to hear.”

They ate without speaking for a few more minutes until Mat broke the silence. “Where do you see yourself in five years?” 

“With you,” Cass answered honestly. “Here, or we could get a nice brownstone over in Brooklyn.” 

“Somewhere with a yard,” Mat mused. 

“Yeah, a yard would be nice,” Cass agreed. “I’d like to get a dog, I’ve always grown up with dogs and it would be nice to have someone to keep me company when you’re gone.” Her family’s two dogs, Patches and Scout, were back at the house in Connecticut, and on more than one occasion, Cass had made the two-hour drive up just to see them. She paused, glancing down at her hands. “In five years? You’d better have put a ring on my finger by then, Mat. I’ll be almost thirty. Approaching old maid status” 

Mat laughed, an easy, breathy sort of laugh that somehow erased all of the tension in the room. “I think you should double-hyphen.” 

Cass looked at him doubtfully. “Cabrera-Shaw-Barzal? Yeah, I’m going to have to pass on that one.” 

He shrugged, the corner of his lip pulled up in a half-smile. “Just saying. It’s got a ring to it.”

“Have you given much thought to what you’d want to do with your name when you get married?” Mat asked curiously. It really didn’t matter much to him, since it would ultimately be Cass’ decision, but he didn’t want to assume anything regardless. And it didn’t escape Cass that he said when, as if it was certain, as if it was a given. The surety made her heart flutter. 

Cass shook her head. “Not particularly. On one hand, I do like the idea of the whole family having the same name. It seems nice. Unified. But I don’t want to feel like I’m erasing my culture and who I am just because I’m getting married. And all due respect, chou,” Cass poked Mat’s cheek, “but Cabrera Shaw’s the name on my degrees. Cassidy Barzal didn’t go to law school.”

“Very fair,” Mat said with a chuckle. 

Cass took a deep breath. If it seemed like they were having the “future talk,” she figured it was best to go all in. “Do you want kids?” she asked, tentatively, hesitantly. It was obvious that Mat was good with kids, she’d seen as much, but being good with kids and wanting children of your own were two very different things. Cass had wanted to be a mom since she knew what a mom was, and even though they probably should have brought up the topic earlier, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said no. Thank God, she never had to find out. 

“Definitely,” Mat said, nodding. “Not now, obviously, we’re young and haven’t really settled down yet. If you got pregnant we’d make it work, but I don’t think either of us is looking to be parents right away. But in a couple years, once we’re married and have a proper house with space...Yeah, I’d like to have kids.” He looked over at Cass. “What about you?”

“Always wanted kids,” Cass responded fondly. “I loved growing up with siblings, and I know my parents were the same way. Two or three, I think. I’ve thought about adoption too, but obviously that’s way in the future.”

Mat kissed the top of her head. “We’ve got time.”

 May 22 (sat)

 The graduation ceremony itself wasn’t until noon, so Cass had more than enough time to get ready after waking up at 7. Alicia barrelled into her room at exactly 7:22, throwing a shirt at her and telling her to get dressed. Cass stumbled out of the room ten minutes later, pulling on socks and grabbing her phone from the charger by her door. “What are you guys trying to pull?” she asked, yawning and trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Uh, we’re going to the diner, duh,” Stella said with a smile, tossing Cass her purse. “Come on! You know it fills up early on weekends.” Glen’s Diner had become an apartment staple over the past few years, the restaurant having been the first place the four of them had eaten in the city when they moved, not having bought groceries yet and not wanting to pay the premium for delivery. It was cheap, open 24/7, and Cass would swear up and down that their blueberry pancakes were the best she’d ever had. 

They were seated just after 8, happily slurping coffee and stealing bites of each other’s breakfast twenty minutes later. It was a nice day and hadn’t gotten too hot yet, so they decided to walk back after finishing the meal. In reality, “going back” meant Alicia stopping to buy a new necklace, listening to a busker for a few minutes, and petting no fewer than five dogs on the one-mile walk. There was still plenty of time before they had to leave for the ceremony, but after Cass did her makeup and tamed her curls, there was just enough time to watch an episode of Parks & Rec before having to actually get her stuff together. Not as flexible as she once had been, Ryanne helped zip up the back of her dress, a white lace bodycon from her sorority days that she had definitely worn to at least two semiformals. Hey, Cass thought as she straightened her hemline, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

She had ironed her robe and put it into a dress bag the night before, and gently folded her school stole and the serape from her abuela into her purse. Mat’s necklace hadn’t left its place since Valentine’s. Her dad’s parents had given her a beautiful pair of pearl studs for her undergraduate graduation, and it felt only right to wear them for her next step. She fastened the ankle straps on her heels, and popped her head out to the living room. “Everyone ready?” She was met with a chorus of “yeses,” and grabbed her keys from their dish by the front door. 

“Let’s go get our girl graduated!” Alicia hollered into the street. 

The girls had originally objected to Cass driving herself to her own graduation, but relented as soon as Cass reminded them that she was the only one who knew where to find the free parking, and the rest of them only drove sedans. “Cheryl has way more room. Y’all want to be cramped on purpose?” 

“Fair point,” Stella had said begrudgingly. 

Exactly twenty-six minutes later, Cass pulled into a spot about two blocks away from the arena where she would be graduating in an hour’s time, hugging each of her friends as Ryanne handed her the dress bag. “You’re going to kill it in there,” she said, rubbing her back. 

Cass laughed. “Ry, all I’ve got to do is walk across a stage without tripping.”

She shrugged. “It’s a fine art that few have mastered.” 

Cass entered through the side, flashing her ID to the security guard standing by the door. Half an hour later, everyone had been ushered into their seats, carefully arranged in alphabetical order. For the most part, Cass was friendly with everyone in her class; if they weren’t outwardly hostile to her, she saw no reason why they deserved anything other than kindness, but was relieved to see Robin sitting next to her. “You excited?” Robin asked, brushing a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. The lobby doors must have opened, because as she asked, crowds started to mill into the seats, waving at anyone who would catch their eye. 

Cass bounced her head. “I am, but it’s kind of surreal, you know? I knew we’d get to this point, obviously. It’s what we’ve been working towards for seven years, really. But the idea that it all essentially comes down to this…”

“An hour, a few handshakes, and a piece of paper,” Robin helpfully supplied. 

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s almost anticlimactic in a way? Like sure, we’ve got our JDs after this, but knowing we’ve still got to pass the bar. We’re not over the finish line yet.”

“Columbia has a 97% pass rate, and you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, Cass. And I’ve spent three years surrounded by the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

“Fair,” Cass said, “it’s just kind of a weird feeling, you know?” Robin nodded. “And plus, for most of us, we’ve pretty much spent our whole lives in school. Aside from positions as summer associates, or part-time jobs and internships, we don’t really know how to do anything other than school. It’s just a little bit of a daunting thought to suddenly feel like we’re being thrown out to the wolves without really knowing what to expect.” Cass’ phone, which she wasn’t technically supposed to have but had snuck in anyways, chose that moment to buzz with a text notification. It was from Mat.

Met up with the crew! Can’t wait to see you walk across that stage, Cass. I love you and we’re all so proud of you. Mat had attached a photo of everyone she had brought with her — both sets of grandparents, her parents and siblings, and roommates. 

“Your boyfriend is nauseatingly cute,” Robin observed, looking over her shoulder at the message. 

Cass laughed. “That’s true, but I knew what I was getting myself into.” The music started ten minutes later, and the ceremony began. If Cass was being honest, she didn’t really remember much of anything from the first half of the ceremony, before the conferral of diplomas. She was so excited and nervous and unbelievably ready all at the same time that all she recalled from the dean’s speech and the student speeches were vague comments about their “awesome responsibility” and “duty to pursue truth and justice” and “commitment to fight for what is right over what is easy.” 

As soon as she realized it, her row was being ushered into line to receive their diplomas. “Cassidy María Cabrera Shaw.” She heard her name, but really had no clue who had spoken it. The dean? One of her professors? As Cass walked up the steps and across the stage, the only thing she could think was don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip. Then she was handed a diploma, flashed a brilliant smile for the photographer, and shook hand after hand after hand before walking off the other side of the stage. She was pretty sure she could hear Mat and Noah yelling their congratulations from her seat on the floor. 

Having a name towards the front of the alphabet meant that Cass was almost always called on quickly in class, or on roll call, or at graduation, as the case was. But that meant that she had to sit, quietly and politely, for the other four hundred names to be called. And it took awhile. After Robin Cahill came Wesley Coleman, then Samuel Cogswell, then Fiona Chan. Cass didn’t mind having to sit through the whole thing, especially when Fiona, Les, Samaira, and her other friends crossed the stage — she cheered as much as anybody — but it was a long time to be sitting in a folding chair and the thousands of people packed into a small space didn’t help her temperature regulation. 

There was the benediction and congratulations, and then the recessional of the graduates. Graduates, Cass thought. She was a graduate. She had finished, she was done, she had accomplished the one thing she wanted most to do since she was a little girl watching Legally Blonde for the first time, looking at Elle Woods and thinking I can do that. And she had. Her feet carried her to the back room of their own accord, where she picked up her bag and was engulfed in a flurry of hugs, congratulations, and kisses on the cheek from her friends, the people who she had spent countless late nights in the library with, bar hopping to celebrate the end of finals, and afternoons on each other’s apartment couches, yelling fact patterns at each other and trying to come up with an analysis before the timer went off.  

Following the stream of sky blue graduation gowns, Cass walked outside, waving at her family when she spotted Eliana hanging off of a lamppost in the courtyard to get a better view. Her sister nearly tackled her as she made her way to the group. “Cass. I already knew you were brilliant, and I still think  you’re the smartest out of any of us,” she gestured between the two of them and Noah, “but now you’ve got the degree to prove it. I’m so proud of you.” 

Noah was next. “You worked hard, and I know how badly you wanted this. You’re a really good sister.” He wasn’t usually a big talker, and Cass’ eyes definitely got a little misty as he spoke. He had verbally committed to Minnesota State the week before, and Mat might have been more excited than even Cass when he heard the news. It was an incredible program that had a serious track record of sending players to the NHL, and she was so proud to see her little brother doing what he loved. Her mom and both grandmas were crying, as expected, and Grandpa Joe wrapped her up in a hug as soon as he got the chance. 

Mat had been hanging towards the back of the crowd, not wanting to feel like he was intruding on family time, until her dad nudged him forward. “Go say hi to your girl, Mat,” Patrick said.

“Will do,” Mat said, squeezing Cass’ hand and pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Sometimes it blows my mind how incredible you are,” he said. “Everyone’s already said how smart you are, and every bit of that is true. But you’re so much more than that, you know?” His thumb rubbed over her hand. “You’re beautiful, and curious, and you always keep me on my toes. You’re so passionate about your work, and you’ve got the biggest heart out of anyone I know. You’ve never met a person you didn’t want to help. And I promise I’m not biased just because I’m in love with you.” 

Cass gave a watery laugh, blinking and thanking God she had the foresight to wear waterproof mascara. “God, I love you, Mat.”

Her dad had always been the picture type, insisting on documenting every waking moment. He was the living embodiment of “pics or it didn’t happen,” for better or worse. He took a few of her with her law school friends, then Alicia snapped one with just her immediate family, then there was one with everyone. Cass also got a picture with Mat, where he was bending down to kiss her, the tassel on her mortarboard just barely brushing his nose. Then she was in one with all of the seniors on the law review, and a friend pulled her away for a few with the Latinx Student Association. By the time they finally managed to tear Patrick away from his camera, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner. 

Mat got Patrick to send him the photo of him and Cass, and was about to post it on Instagram when he hesitated. “Hey, is it cool if I post this?” Mat said, showing Cass his phone. Most people knew who she was, and he had posted pictures of her before, but they had never been this obvious, this clear, this real. 

“Go for it.”

Mat pressed post. So, so proud of my incredible girlfriend @casscshaw for graduating law school. You’re one of the smartest, most empathetic people I know, and you’re going to make an amazing lawyer. 

Cass grinned, a big, genuine smile as she was surrounded by her family, the people who meant the most to her — whether they were related or not. She looked up at Mat, who was smiling softly down at her as he reached one hand up to fix her tassel. “What’s next?”