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notchesandbullets · 3 years

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She’s Mine (Protective!Bakugou x Punk!Tattooed!Reader) feat. Erasermic

Warnings: racism, implied homophobia (not by anyone in the main cast), sexism, discrimination/discriminatory behavior, Modern!AU, Aged-Up!AU, features Bakugou’s parents, Erasermic, Kota, Eri, Mahoro, Katsuma and all of Class A defending you when insults start to fly.

Synopsis: This is not the first time you’re seeing Bakugou’s family but it is the first time you’re meeting his grandmother, who is not the best company to be around. He comes to your defense after you stand up for yourself and he had no qualms about sticking his face in the old hag’s because he’d be damned if he lets anyone talk to you like that. You’re his.

Words: 3.2k

“Y/N’s here!!!” Mitsuki called over her shoulder as she threw the front door wide open before you could even ring the doorbell.

Her son had texted her that you two were on their way and she was eager to see you. With the job and your relationship with her son, you two were busy bees and didn’t come around as often anymore.

Which is why she insisted that her stubborn son at least come around for his birthday since it only happened one day out of the year. Then he could continue doing whatever it was that he was doing.

Luckily, you were on her side and helped convince him to go just this once.

You laughed at the pitter-patter of tiny feet scampering across the cherry hardwood before dropping everything to catch the little kid that tunneled into your legs.

“Y/N!!! You’re back!!!”

Eri’s ruby red eyes sparkled with joy as she clung to your legs.

“I missed you!!!” She shouted excitedly, hugging your knees tight.

You giggled, resting a hand on top of her head. “I missed you too, munchkin.”

Bakugou snorted behind you and you were reminded of his presence. “Oi, brat. Are you going to let us in or what?”

Eri stuck her tongue out at him childishly before dashing back inside, a trick she learned from her big brother Izuku, doubling back to grab your hand and hauled you inside with her. You casted a glance over your shoulder at your boyfriend but he shrugged, giving you the go-ahead.

He would catch up to you two troublemakers later. Besides, he knew you would want to see all the kids first.

Kota, an orphan whose extended family gave him up for adoption, along with the siblings, Mahoro and Katsuma, were all under Aizawa’s guardianship.

After he adopted Eri, it sort of just snowballed until he was in too deep. He told Mic repeatedly that it wasn’t his fault that he had a soft spot for orphans.

His husband had merely shook his head with a laugh and hoisted Katsuma up higher so that he could reach the cupcakes they were going to sneak behind his back before dinner.

Mitsuki closed the door behind him as her son kicked off his shoes.

“She gets that from me.” She said proudly as she gazed lovingly at Eri. She loved having her around the house.

Since Aizawa and Mic lived relatively close, they came over often since she was feeling rather lonely with an empty nest.

Bakugou snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”

His mother glared at him for his language but didn’t reprimand him like she normally would and his eyes turned into hateful slits.

“Don’t tell me—” He started, gritting his teeth.

“They’re here.” She said with a heavy sigh.

Bakugou cursed vehemently under his breath, his brow furrowing deeply as he fought to control himself. He was banking on them not making an appearance today.

His grandparents on his dad’s side, though he adored his grandad and thought the world of him, he absolutely could not stand his grandmother.

She was racist, sexist, had limited views on literally everything and would raise hell if she didn’t get her way and she was a huge pain in his ass.

Even his own mother couldn’t stand her and that was saying something because she tolerated everyone to some degree, despite her odd love language when it came to him.

They were both shit at communicating but it had gotten better as he got older.

Now, the worst things that happened were spats here and there when they disagreed but his mother was usually good about backing off if she felt he could make the right decision for himself, which wasn’t often but it was better than none.

Bakugou strolled inside and his eyes softened for a second when he saw you playing with Mahoro, Kota sitting on your lap as Eri was climbing all over Midoriya. You four were currently playing Monopoly and Eri exclaiming in shock as she realized she was losing since the devious Kota was slowly claiming more and more property.

“Haha!!” He cackled, rubbing his hands together evilly. “You landed on the purple one!!”

“No fair!!” Eri protested. “I don’t have enough money!!!”

“Too bad!!”

“Deku-niichan.” Eri cried, her eyes watering and you nearly fell over laughing as he frantically tried to get her to stop crying.

The rest of his old class from college was already here, as per his mother’s request and Kirishima’s invitation.

Shinsou, Tsuyu, Todoroki and Iida were all near the food, the previous class rep serving drinks even though it wasn’t his job to play host.

Tokoyami was currently engaged in a conversation with his dad and as Bakugou spun around the room, he realized every last one of his old classmates had shown up.

It was fucking crowded in his house.

But the spark of joy he felt diminished the instant he saw his grandmother and he scowled, straying to your side almost protectively as her eyes burned into his back.

This.

This was why he didn’t fucking want her here. He didn’t want her to rain judgement upon the person who had won over his heart.

No way in hell.

Look, you weren’t fragile by any means. Your heart was filled with a healthy amount of self-esteem and you had built up your walls to protect yourself against people who had something to say about your many tattoos or piercings, yet you still were the kindest soul he had ever met.

It was in the way you walked and interacted with people, a genuine smile always present on your features as you gave them more respect than most would give you upon first glance.

Bakugou knew you could handle yourself but you shouldn’t have to with his own fucking relatives. That shit was messed up.

You glanced at your boyfriend out of the corner of your eye and your gaze dropped down to where his hands were clenched into fists, jaw locked tight and you sigh, softly urging Kota to get up and continue playing with Mahoro and Katsuma until you got back.

The boy grumbled but did as you asked, easily getting swept up in the competition of the game as you drifted to Bakugou’s side.

“I know that look,” You murmured into his ear, your hand covering his as you ignored the idle chatter coming from your friends and family around you. “What’s wrong?”

Bakugou clenched his teeth and debated about it for a second.

“Nothing.” He spat out eventually, choosing to deal with the old hag himself and you let him go when he stomped off, knowing that Kirishima or Kaminari would handle whatever it was that just happened if he didn’t want to talk to you about it.

Momo greeted you warmly and a smile slipped onto your face as though it had never left.

You hadn’t bothered to dress all that nice or different from your usual getup, feeling more comfortable in leather and all black that looked like you just came from a rock concert but you got the feeling that not everyone was feeling it as much as Jirou was when she came over to compliment you on your fashion taste.

Shoji and Koda each greeted you respectively and before you knew it, the catered dinner arrived and it was finally time to eat. The judging look you had been aware of from someone you didn’t recognize passing by as you brushed it off as unimportant and focused on helping Mitsuki set the table.

You clapped your hands gleefully when Eri pitched in to help, complimenting her on how well of a job she did as she finished and you beamed at her when she smiled up at you.

Of course, Aizawa needed to help her since he didn’t want her to stand on a chair and lose her balance but it was easy enough to lift her up. She wasn’t that big yet.

He had already told Mic he was dreading the day when she would grow up and have to leave home to start her own life and his husband patted him on the back sympathetically, reassuring him that it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

They loved their children and their children absolutely adored them.

You had told them as such on more than one occasion since they got insecure that they weren’t adequate parents but you reassured them that they were perfectly imperfect.

They put their kids’ health, safety and happiness before everything else and did everything they could for them.

You wished your own parents had done that for you.

As soon as you set down the place settings for everyone and called everyone in for dinner, they flooded the huge dining table that overflowed into the living area to accommodate everyone.

Bakugou had left for a second to grab something from his old bedroom, promising to be back right away and you reassured him that you would be fine.

You were barely into helping Mic convince a stubborn Kota to take a spoonful of green beans onto his plate, Shinsou helping Aizawa with Mahoro’s vegetable serving, when a throat cleared itself loudly.

The lively chatter died all around the table died down as grey eyes pierced your own and you stiffened but held your ground.

You knew that look, you had seen it too many times.

The older woman opened her mouth and spoke.

“So, you’re my grandson’s girlfriend?” She enunciated, looking you up and down from where she was sitting at the head of the table, her hands setting down her knitting project to glare at you. “I don’t see why he’s dating you.”

The expressions of shock at her vulgar words made several of your friends angry in your defense, Iida and Todoroki trembling in anger and Mina’s eyes narrowed as she dropped her happy-go-lucky personality in favor of ripping her a new one.

But before any of them could act, she was continuing evenly.

“For someone who doesn’t know how to dress properly and looks like that, I mean, it’s already bad enough that your skin is that color, my dear, and you’ve ruined it even further with those ugly things.” She spat, unaware of the wrath she was evoking from every single person in the room.

Kaminari’s electric eyes glowed as he saw red. “Bad enough?”

“Excuse me?” Shoji seethed with unparalleled anger rising up in his chest, a rare sight for the normally calm and collected man.

Jirou, Ochako and Momo were furious at the way she was talking down to you and they shared a look amongst themselves, communicating wordlessly that this wasn’t going to be allowed to get out of hand any longer.

Kirishima was visibly shaking and even the normally shy Koda was fuming in his seat, openly glaring at the elderly woman who spewed insults at you.

A chair scraped back as Midoriya shot up but you shook your head, holding your finger up to your lips as you subtly gestured for everyone to hold back.

Aizawa’s nostrils flared from where he was covering Eri’s ears while several of his former students took care of the rest of the kids to make sure they wouldn’t hear this.

To their horror, the grandmother wasn’t even close to being done as she pointed a gnarly finger at you.

“Your job as a girl is to stay in the kitchen and attend to your husband. To even think you’re worth anything if you weren’t involved with my grandson is absurd.” She hissed at you venously, her skewed ideals rooted deeply in her beliefs and how she was raised. “You are a disgrace to even breathe the same air as someone like me.”

“Mother!!”

Bakugou’s father frantically tried to amend what had been done and Mitsuki was about to yell at her but you stopped her.

Everyone’s eyes turned on you as you took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I won’t apologize for being who I am.” You said quietly but firmly, failing to notice someone coming down the stairs and overhearing your steady words as they flowed from your lips like honey.

Not tricks. Just genuine sympathy, like you didn’t even hear her say all those horrible things to you.

It was supposed to be your boyfriend’s day and you weren’t going to ruin it for him in the same manner that she had just done.

“I understand what you’re saying, but don’t you think that we should be allowed to love who we love?”

You inclined your head slightly, allowing a sliver of the emotion you felt to slip onto your face as you glanced pointedly as Aizawa and Mic.

After you noticed her staring so openly at you, you also noticed that she would scowl whenever the two men would walk in the room and play with their kids and while you would take whatever she was going to throw at you, you weren’t going to tolerate the same for them.

They didn’t deserve that.

Holding up your arm, you inspected the ink running up and down the length of it. “As for my appearance, my style is my own. I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

There were a couple of snickers from Jirou, Kaminari, Sero and Mineta as you put her in his place and Todoroki leaned back in his seat, gazing up at you proudly as you stood your ground without firing any hate back at the old woman.

Hagakure clapped her hands jubilantly as a few cheers of agreement sounded around from the table but you had one more thing to say.

Your eyes softened. “I understand how you may feel about me, but I don’t need your acceptance. I love myself just as I am and if Katsuki ever feels differently about me and we split, then we’ll split. But please do not judge my love for him based on how you believe I should be. I am who I am and I won’t ever apologize for that.”

“And you never fucking have to.”

Bakugou strolled into the dining area, smirking at the old hag who had the nerve to look shocked at his appearance. Of course she would be so fucking disgusting to say something this horrible to you when he wasn’t within earshot.

Bitch.

Blood relations didn’t excuse behavior.

Narrowing his vermilion eyes at his grandmother, he faced her head on as he took your hand into his.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.” He declared, tenacity and stubbornness dripping off of his tone as he snarled at his grandmother. “And if you ever speak to her like that again—”

He nodded in time to Mic and Aizawa, the men who had mentored him and taught him almost everything he knew.

“Or either of them, including the rest of these shitheads, I’ll fucking kill you.”

The veiled threat hung in the air and you squeaked as Bakugou abruptly dragged you to the front door.

“Where are you going?!” Mitsuki cried out, worried that you both were going to leave without eating anything and she was sad to think that her mother-in-law had driven you away.

Bakugou gnashed his teeth at the confused clamour that arose from his classmates. “Out!! We’ll be back later!!”

You could hardly get a word in edgewise as he dragged you all the way out to the car after barely giving you enough time to put on your shoes.

“Katsuki!! What—”

Your bewildered protests were interrupted as he whirled around and kissed you hard. You melted into his touch as his hot palms settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him. Whining softly when he pulled away, you panted as he breathed hard against you, his exhales fanning out over your face.

You were in a daze as he led you to the car, buckling you in before he got in the driver’s seat.

And he drove, taking a detour that would take him towards the countryside where there were no people, no places, just you and him.

Just how he liked it.

The painted lavenders and pale pinks of the setting sun faded to midnight black with stars twinkling high above you as you cruised around for hours before he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized quietly and you immediately grabbed his hand that wasn’t currently occupied with steering.

“No!! You don’t have anything to apologize for—”

“Yes I do.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel a fraction as he slowly explained that if he had told you earlier about what she was capable of instead of ranting to his best friend like an idiot, maybe he could’ve—

“Katuski.”

Your soft murmur brought him back down to planet Earth and you shook your head firmly.

“It’s not your fault.” You told him without wavering once as he brought the car to a stop just at the edge of the trail. “I don’t blame you at all.”

Bakugou slammed his hand against the steering wheel angrily. “Yes it fucking is!!!”

He ranted and he ranted about how he had come downstairs only to hear his own flesh and blood spitting those vile insults that you didn’t deserve at all.

You didn’t deserve it at all.

You were quiet when he finished and when his chest was heaving with the spent rage he had aired out, you asked, “Feel better?”

“Like hell I do!!!” He snapped at you, about to go off again when he noticed the bemused expression on your face. “What the fuck, dumbass?”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Huh?”

“Why the hell aren’t you bothered at all?” He questioned, genuinely flabbergasted.

Eyes clearing in understanding, you traced the back of his hand with your fingers. “Because it doesn’t bother me.”

At the sight of Bakugou opening his mouth, you hurried out, “I mean, do you really think someone like that gets to cut me down? Her words don’t mean anything to me.”

You hesitated and opened yourself a little bit, trusting him not to take advantage of your weakness because while her words stung in the moment, it was nothing your heart couldn’t come back from. But…

“If you were to say them, it would hurt a lot more, but I don’t think you would— eep!!”

You yelped as he dragged you over to his seat, yanking at the seatbelt that got in the way, but pulled you to his chest once he released the safety clip.

“Never.” He breathed against your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I would fucking never.”

You closed your eyes. “I know.”

There, in his car, you two stayed in a tight embrace under the stars until you it got late enough that you insisted you should go back and at least spend the rest of the time with your friends, which, if their sleeping schedules hadn’t changed since college, there was a good chance almost all of them would still be up.

So Bakugou drove you both back, his heart a little more at ease after he got to hold you close and be alone with you.

That was all he wanted.

Well… He thought to himself as he unconsciously brushed his left hand over the small velvet box that had been hastily stuffed in his pocket the second he grabbed it from his room.

That and one other thing.

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spotofimagines · 3 years

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Car Sick P1 ~ Dominic Calvert-Lewin

A/N: This is sort of carried on from this blurb I wrote a while ago, bc I loved the idea and wanted to write more for it, you should probs read that first to catch the vibes. This is for @footballffbarbiex writing challenge based on tv and film. I used this storyline from Modern Family with Gloria and Jay. Once again, no real timeline with this, just made up scenarios. I struggled with the next bit of this so I asked you how you wanted it and you chose 2 parts, here's the 1st. Enjoy :)

Warnings: pregnancy, kids, step parents, injury mention - reader is female

Summary: You thought you were just feeling car sick, turns out it's something else...

gif by @hishairmyweakness - gif by @delstroyer

You were dropping your daughter off at Dele's for a long weekend since he didn't have a match or training to attend. After she had squeezed the biggest hug out of her dad and trudged dirt in his hallway, she perched on the sofa with her ipad and juicebox, leaving you and Dele to catch up.

Dele had been showing you how he redecorated his kitchen so you accepted a drink and decided to stay a little while. Plus you figured the news you had for him should rather be said in person than over the phone.

"Hey, Del, I have something to tell you." You said nervously, leaning your hands on the kitchen island. He turned around and took a sip of the drink he just poured as he walked closer to the other side of the island opposite you. "Go ahead." He replied, his eyebrows knitted in concern at your worried tone.

"Well, remember when we stopped by last Friday since you were playing on her birthday?" you recollected and he nodded along. "And I had one of those herbal teas and a tablet because I was feeling car sick?" "Yeah..." he trailed off quietly, putting his drink on the counter between you. "Turns out I wasn't car sick," he frowned in confusion and looked even more lost than he did a moment ago.

You fiddled your fingers together and took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You knew you could trust Dele with absolutely anything. You'd been close since you were teenagers, grew closer when you started dating and left nothing in the way when you had a baby. Being so young when it happened meant a lot of things turned against you, a lot of people with a lot of opinions trying to dictate your lives and yet you stuck it through. You haven't been together romantically for a while, however your relationship with him never faultered, your connection of trust staying strong.

But it didn't make this any easier to say. It wasn't hard to see when Dele got hit by moments of gloom at the sight of the mini family you were creating with Dominic. While your split years ago was amicable, and neither of you would rekindle that flame again, more than happy with your close friendship, Dele couldn't stop that jealous bubble rising in him when he saw your daughter enjoy spending time with Dom as much as she does with him. Blame his stubbornness but facing change wasn't his strongest suit. This news was going to be a big step away from that picturesque life you both once envisioned together and you desperately didn't want it to drive a wedge between you nor push Dele away. You had settled into a good rhythmic system with him that suited your daughter and your schedules, you'd hate to tarnish that in any way.

So, yes, you hesitated to tell him.

You sighed and picked at your nails, needing to just get it out before it drove you crazy.

"I'm pregnant."

Dele's eyes went wide and his mouth opened a little from shock, the frown lines that creased his forehead disappearing. His breath was taken away. Nothing prepared him to hear those words come from your mouth and know that he wasn't involved. It was bound to happen but it still took him by surprise.

He tilted his head as he looked at you, nervously twiddling your thumbs like you always did, and it only took a few seconds for a smile to slowly grow on his face. "That," he cleared his throat and met your eyes with sincerity, "that's great. Congratulations."

He scuffed his socked feet along the floor as he walked round the counter to wrap you in a warm hug. He squeezed your shoulder and gave your cheek a quick kiss when he pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. No, he wasn't involved this time, but he knew how amazing it was to experience pregnancy and he was certain Dominic would take to it greatly.

"What did Dom say?" He asked, leaning over to grab his glass and take another drink. Your breath caught in your throat and that made Dele side-eye you mid sip. "You haven't told him, have you?" He questioned gently, and you shook your head.

Now it was his turn to sigh.

The glass clinked loudly in the quiet room when he put it back down, and he had a ton of questions he could have asked you and a ton of things he could have told you to do that he thought was right, but it wasn't his place. Not anymore. So he took a moment to think whilst you rubbed your hands down your front to straighten out your t-shirt again.

"Are you going to?" You tutted and looked back up at him incredulously. "Of course I am Del, think it'll be pretty hard to miss when I'll be bursting through my clothes!" You joked and he held his hands up in defence as he chuckled, realising it was a stupid question.

"Are you nervous, then?" He tried again, this time opting for something more reasonable. "More nervous than when I told you for the first time." You admitted. Dele whistled lowly and shook his head with a laugh.

The state you were in a bit under 7 years ago now when you told him you were going to have his child, it was something else. He still insists he hasn't seen someone so frantic, before or since. He could only imagine what was coming Dominic's way.

---

There were plenty of reasons for you to believe Dom would be happy to be a dad. He adored his young brother and truly enjoyed spending time with him when he was back home. He was thoughtful and attentive with all the people he knew so you know he'd be the same, multiplied by a million, when it came to a child that depended on him.

But the way he cared for your daughter above anyone else proved to you, without a doubt, how good he would be. Dom wasn't her biological father, but that never once stopped him loving her the way she deserved. Dom made sacrifices when he needed to and even when he didn't. He'd stay awake if she couldn't sleep, he'd ask to see her on facetime when he was travelling and he always asked her about school, he even did the afternoon pick up with you when he got the chance. If Dom would be such an amazing figure in the life of a little girl he had no obligation to be a part of, just imagine what he'd be like with his own child.

You wouldn't question his want or excitement to have kids with you at any time, having spoken about it before.

Any time except now.

Dom hadn't been himself the last week, and justifiably so. He picked up a knee injury in the Merseyside derby last Saturday that resulted in him hopelessly limping off the pitch with the physio under his arm to hold him up. A torn ACL was the conclusion after a couple hours in the hospital. While an injury was never welcome, a minimum six months out was tough to take. But with the upcoming England tournament he'd been called up for that he will now have to miss, alongside the rest of the Premier League season, it shattered him. His club and his country had important matches this year and it killed him to not be able to help secure some much needed wins for them.

Most of Sunday was spent doting on him, helping him relax and alleviating both his physical and mental pain, offering comfort through his favourite meals and hours of cuddles, something your daughter happily assisted with.

However, by the time Monday rolled around, his rest was stifled by your daughter's birthday party.

Despite how often you'd sat him back down, Dom wasn't used to sitting all day and had helped you decorate the house whilst your girl was at school. The balloons were littered in the front room, the buffet snacks laid out on the dining table, and the banners Dom had pinned on the ceiling blew from the gentle breeze coming in through the back door.

So by the time you pulled into the drive with a car full of young girls eager for sugar, Dom was working on half a bar of energy already. Yet he played along with the party activities and managed to dance, or more shuffle, to some Disney songs on his crutches inbetween sneaking mini sausage rolls and chocolate biscuits.

You could see him getting more tired as each kid left, but "she only turns 6 once, right?", so he persisted on keeping the party lively until your daughter was knocked out in bed, out of her party dress but still wearing the new bracelet she got from Grandma.

You trailed behind Dom with two cups of tea as he hobbled toward the sofa, barely managing to keep himself up despite it only being 9pm. He dropped heavily on the cushions in the corner and let his crutches fall on the carpet, not caring where they landed as long as they stayed within reach. The sigh that left him could have knocked down a tree.

Before you got comfortable, you put his mug on the table and put a random sitcom on the TV. Dom's eyes were closed and his legs were stretched out as best as they could be, his injured knee up on the couch in front of him with a cushion underneath and an ice pack held on top.

"I'm telling you, I feel way too old for this." He muttered just loud enough to hear. "You're only 24." You chuckled a little into your tea at his complaint.

"Yeah," he rolled his head your way, hair falling on his face, "but running after her makes me feel 70, she knocks me out," he spoke quietly but with the last tints of energy in his tone, "and with this peg leg too you gotta change that to 80."

You smiled at him sympathetically and loosely linked your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand as let his eyes close again.

He was joking, it was obvious. But a niggling part of your brain told you that he wasn't just being dramatic.

Admittedly it was a tiring evening with your daughter's friends running around, but with the lack of energy left in Dom, how could a baby be added to that scenario and it not be an issue? Maybe it was the wrong time. Maybe, no definitely, getting pregnant when Dom wasn't shrouded by an injury, when he didn't have frustration on top of frustration on his shoulders, when there wasn't a hyperactive 6 year old that needed attention too - that would definitely be a better time to have a baby. But that wasn't what life had handed you. Life was a little more complicated in its ways than to give you an easy run, you knew that well enough by now.

What concerned you most was how Dom would handle it. Whilst he had picked up parenting duties well over the past couple years, he hadn't been there when your daughter was a baby, nor had he seen how tough it was on you at the time. The thought of raising another was scaring you, so it would surely terrify Dom, doing it for the first time.

Even before the time came to hold them in your arms, being pregnant was no easy deal. So how could he possibly handle the stress of an upcoming baby, the stress of having to look after 2 kids in the future, the stress of a cranky pregnant girlfriend, the stress of prepping the house and himself, all whilst he's hobbling on crutches and having to watch his teammates from the sidelines too?

You sipped your tea and let the TV fill the room as your brain ran overdrive with questioning thoughts, sitting silent next to your boyfriend who's head seemed full of only the sleep he was dreaming of, oblivious to the changes that were coming his way.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin x reader #dele #dele alli #dele imagine #dele x reader #football #football imagine #my fic #oneshot #my og post

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professorrw · 3 years

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Safe House

Pairing: female reader x Steve Rogers

Request: Reader and Steve get stuck in a safehouse which just so happens to be a log cabin in the woods. It's winter and super cold, enter one of my favorite tropes: sharing body heat to keep warm. They end up confessing their feelings for one another and super fluffy cuddling ensues.

Warnings: fluff, love confession, mission, weapons, mentions of violence

A/N: I’ve decided to quit copying and pasting the same author’s note over and over. Just know that my taglist is open, my requests are open, and if you enjoy my writing please like, comment, and reblog! And when I get requests from AO3 I’ll put the request so you guys can have a kind of synopsis.

It started with a mission in Russia. It was winter and a dreadful one at that. The snow was coming down heavily. It was halfway up your calves and every step required far too much effort. It was supposed to be a quiet mission. You weren’t supposed to raise any alarm. You were just scouting. You were stationed on a hilltop with Steve and your job was to just observe for a few hours.

Binoculars in hand you surveyed the entrance to the compound.

“It looks like they have five or six of them at the gate. Two on posts right in front of the door and four on the ground. They’re all carrying guns.” You lowered your binoculars and pulled your mask back over your face.

“Hm… okay. Can you see past the walls at all?” He pointed at the iron fence that surrounded the compound. It was over twenty feet tall and impossible to climb.

You raised the binoculars back up and zoomed them in. You had to point them at just the right place to be able to even see the ground inside. It was crawling with guards and other personnel. If you were to break in there would be a hell of a fight.

“Swarming with guards from what I can tell. All with armor on and weapons in hand. Whatever their protecting must be pretty important.” Every word you spoke was creating clouds in front of you from how cold the air was. The snow was biting at your face and as soon as you were done talking you pulled your ski mask back up. You and Steve both were bundled in snow gear and coats but the cold was penetrating them.

“Here, you should eat something.” Steve held out a thermos and spoon and you took it. You unscrewed the lid and sat up. The whole front of your coat was packed with snow from lying on the ground and you batted it off with a gloved hand. You passed the binoculars to Steve so he could take a look himself.

You couldn’t see your partner's face but you still knew exactly the expression he was making. His brows were knit together and his lips were pursed. After knowing him for so long you knew every expression he made. It wasn’t just because you knew him for so long but because you loved him. Genuinely loved him. He was devoted to the team and to everything he did. He never, no matter what, gave up.

You had been partners for so long it was natural that you got close. He trusted you and you trusted him. There was a type of chemistry that made you work in perfect harmony. It was an unsaid understanding that had passed between you two. Steve was a gentleman though. He wouldn’t make any passes at you. It was hard to tell whether or not he felt the same way towards you. At times it seemed that his behavior was simple comradery.

You sipped at the warm soup while Steve looked around.

“We’ll be here for a few hours if we want to know their rotations. At the moment it doesn’t seem like anything’s going on,” he explained. “In the meantime we should eat and double check the equipment.”

You nodded and continued to finish off your food. Steve picked up his own thermos and pulled his mask down, revealing his face. He noticed your staring and smiled. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“No. No, you look fine.” You looked away and smiled out of his view. You finished up your soup and pulled your face mask back on. You rifled through your backpack and checked over your equipment. Everything was still in working order so you packed it back up and leaned against it. Steve was an inhumanely quick eater and was already done with his food too.

He checked his bag and verified that his devices were working. For the next hour you both sat and took turns using the binoculars. Between viewings you would talk. Not about the mission but about random things.

“This wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t cold,” you said.

“It reminds me of Bangladesh in a way.”

“What?” you asked in astonishment. “It’s freezing out here, Bangladesh was warm.”

“Well other than that it’s similar. Remember? We were together scouting just like this.” Behind his mask a small smile appeared on Steve’s face. He remembered crystal clear the first time he realized he loved you. It had been almost two years yet he remembered all the events that took place. It was one of the scariest days of his life.

It was days after the initial scouting and the team was infiltrating the base. You two managed to get split up. Steve didn’t know where you went but then as he was running out he heard an explosion on the other side of the building. He ran back in- He couldn’t help it. If there was any chance that you were in there…

He ran like his life depended on it. His blood was pumping and his heartbeat was loud in his ears. He covered his face. Dust had risen everywhere and he couldn’t see a thing. He yelled your name but there was no response. Someone collided with him.

“Steve! Steve, what are you doing? Get out of here!” Clint yelled.

“Y/N! Where’s Y/N? Have you seen her?” Steve’s heart was racing and he was frantic.

“No! Now come on-” Steve didn’t stay to hear the end of it. He ran past Clint and further into the building. He kept yelling your name. He was scared. His throat was constricted and he couldn’t breath. The wind had been knocked out of him. Nothing had physically touched him. It was the thought of losing you that rendered him breathless.

A voice called out. Your voice. It wasn’t ahead of him, it was somewhere to the Northwest of him. He ran towards your voice. As he got closer another voice was heard. “Y/N get back here! It’s dangerous! This whole place could collapse at any second!” Natasha’s voice.

“Y/N where are you?” Steve yelled.

“Steve? Steve! Oh my god you’re alive!” You both ran. You couldn’t see anything so the only thing you could use was your ears. You ran into him and wrapped your arms around him. Tears were staining the corners of your eyes and making them sting worse than they already were. Steve clung to you, convinced he would never be able to let go.

“You’re okay,” you whispered. “I thought you were here. I thought you got caught in the explosion.”

A choked laugh came out of Steve’s mouth. You were worried about him too. You were worried about the super soldier dying. You risked your life to run back and find him. He had risked his life to come back and find you. Because of all the people there- of all the people he knew- he was most afraid of losing you.

“Steve! Steve, look!” you leaned over and shook Steve, who had zoned out. You pointed to the compound where someone was shouting and soldiers were starting to run out of the gates. With your binoculars you saw someone. Someone that was looking at you.

Static came from your walkie-talkie. “Get out of there you two! They know you're there! Go to the safe house! Hurry!” Natasha’s voice was crinkly but you could make out the fear in it.

You looked at Steve for a second and got up. You put your bag on and started running towards the snowmobile. You swung your leg over on the back of it and when Steve got on you wrapped your arms around his waist. He turned the key and you were off.

You could hear shouting in the distance behind you. You could see a speck, which you assumed to be a soldier, at the spot you were using to scout. He was the first to get to the top of the hill and he could see you. Gunshots rang out in the air. You clutched Steve’s waist as you wove in and out of trees.

The voices died out after a few minutes. You were trembling. The wind and snow was whipping your face. You couldn’t look around anymore or else you would get frostbite. You pressed your face against the back of Steve’s coat. It was slick and cold but it was better than nothing.

You could feel the shift from being on flat land to being on a slope. Steve drove down the hill and past hundreds of snow covered trees. He drives for over two hours before he comes to a stop. You lift your head and look around. You had never been to the safe house but it was a nice little log cabin surrounded by woods.

Steve could see how violently you were shivering and ushered you into the cabin. It was pitch black inside and when you flicked the light switch nothing happened.

“Come over here and I’ll light a fire. You should take off your coat, it’s wet.” Steve kneeled by the fireplace and threw in a match he had lit. The fire grew bigger and the room was illuminated. You hung your coat up on the rack next to the door and shuffled over to the fire. Steve had already sat down and discarded his coat. You sat down as close as you could to the fire without actually getting burnt.

You were still shivering. The room itself was cold and the only thing being warmed was your front. The biting chill that you had been feeling for hours was still there. You rubbed your hands together.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked.

“Y-Yeah.”

Steve scooted closer to you and opened his arms. “We’ll be warmer this way.”

You nodded and he wrapped his arms around you when you got in his lap. Your back was pressed against his chest and you could feel the rise and fall of it. He was nice and warm and even though you were freezing and hiding from bad people you wished that you would be in his arms more often.

“This isn’t so bad,” Steve said. His voice was right behind your ear and you could feel his breath against it when he spoke. It sent shivers throughout your body.

You let out a little nose laugh. “You don’t think so?”

“No, because I’m with you. Nothing seems that bad when I’m with you.”

A fuzzy feeling erupted in your body. You turned around to look at Steve. His kind blue eyes were looking into yours and a soft smile was on his face. You swallowed. This was the first time you had been in such close proximity. Your face was inches from his. You could just lean in a few centimeters and you would kiss.

Steve noticed that you were looking at his lips. He couldn’t judge you- he was looking at your lips too. Your eyes flickered to each other and you both leaned in. Your eyes closed and your lips met. All that waiting, all those years of built up feelings had finally come out.

You parted and Steve pressed his forehead against yours. You reached your hand out and pressed it against Steve’s cheek. He placed his hand over yours.

“Y/N I love you.”

“I love you too Steve.” You weren’t breathless but the way you said it was like you had been holding it back for years. And you had. A tear pricked at the corner of your eye and you laughed. Who knew that the thing that would make you two confess was being trapped together in a safe house?

You scooted back against Steve and he wrapped his arms around you again. He kissed the top of your head and you sat like that until you eventually moved to the couch. A few hours later your walkie-talkie beeped and you were alerted that Natasha was on her way to pick you two up. Oh how delighted she would be when she found out what had happened.

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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 1

a/n: oh my god guys it’s finally here!😬 i really hope i didn’t hype myself up too much and that you guys actually like it. overall i just wanted to put out a story that revolved around christmas and this is what i came up with! so without me babbling too much, i hope you enjoy part 1 of my new story and as always any feedback/reblogs are very much appreciated.

and of course, thank you to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this part for me and giving this rusty old writer the help i needed lol

word count: 17k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some sexual tension, and an over consumption of starbucks holiday drinks.

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

“What floor?” Harry asks, eyes stuck on the many buttons in the elevator instead of seeing who had entered the small space with him. He can tell it’s a woman, and they smelt lovely.

“Six please,” her soft voice replies.

Harry looks over his shoulder in what he hopes is a smooth motion to get a quick peek at who was behind that sweet voice. Her eyes were squinting slightly as she smiles at him. She must be my new neighbour, he thinks as he hits the number six button and it lights up before the elevator begins to move. He steps back, standing in the opposite corner of the young woman. Harry assumes that she is maybe a few years younger than him, but one thing he knew for sure was that she was very pretty. He may even say she was stunning. She's all bundled up with a long coat and a thick scarf as he guesses she had just gone out for some shopping, judging by the few large white paper bags hanging off her arm.

“Did you just recently move in?” He questions, catching her eyes switching from gazing at the wall to his own instead.

She smiles again and nods, “yeah.”

“I thought I heard someone move in beside me,” he exclaims. He was certain that someone had moved in beside him. It caused him a bit of a headache hearing all the moving around. And then on top of that, his new neighbour had decided to get right to hammering in on the wall they shared. Little did he know, there was a determined and beautiful girl on the other side.

“Oh you’re my neighbour then?” She says, bringing Harry back from his memory of a few days ago.

“Harry,” he introduces himself, reaching a hand out into the space between them. She switches her Starbucks holiday cup into her other hand in order to shake his. Her hand is warm from holding the drink and it causes Harry's stomach to erupt with little bitty butterflies.

“Y/N,” she says in the same gentle voice as before. He wanted to hear her talk more. There was something about the soft tone of her voice, like he could listen to her speak into the late hours and early mornings and never once get tired of it. He blinks a few times and drops her hand at his intimate thought.

Harry didn't believe in love at first sight per say, but he was known to develop an infatuation of sorts very quickly. A crush as some would call it. Well, to be precise, Mitch teases him the most of his little crushes. There was that one time that Harry fumbled over his words over and over again when they had gone for dinner and had a rather attractive waitress, having asked for her number at the end of the night too. Mitch mocked him for days about it, asking if she had ever texted him back - she didn’t. And Harry didn’t even want to think about the time he spilled an entire blended margarita on his white vans when a certain handsome lifeguard had winked at him during their trip in LA last summer. Mitch still doesn’t let that incident go either.

The elevator doors open, and Harry gives her a smile and motions with a hand for her to walk out before he does. His mom must’ve raised him well, Y/N thinks at her new neighbours mannerisms. First holding the elevator for her, then offering to press the elevator button, and now letting her exit first. Suppose it was just minor things, but growing up in this lovely city that is New York meant she was used to the rudeness of people and sadly the simplest of gestures can make her heart beat just a bit faster in her chest.

“If you uh,” Harry pauses as Y/N stops at her front door but looks back at him as he speaks. Harry slows his steps to keep eye contact with her. “If you ever need anything, don’t feel shy to knock on my door.”

Y/N smiles again, nodding at his offer while she twists her key in the lock and opens her front door. Harry's walking backwards now, just a few steps to that same door he’s saying she can knock on. His eye contact is intense, but addicting, like every word she had to say to him mattered. His eyes are green, just green, nothing crazy and yet she found them very endearing. Would it be cliche of her to say she swore she saw them sparkle?

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” she says and before she can say anything else, she steps into her new apartment and shuts the door behind her.

Y/N finds herself standing there for a moment, remembering every word Harry had spoken to her as she slips out of her shoes. She then remembers his facial features while undoing her coat and hanging it up along with her scarf. The bit of facial hair he was sporting, how it seemed like it may have taken a while to grow so he kept it minimal. Or that little mole by his mouth, she even took note of that in their short time together. He had a cute nose too, she thinks. Harry takes up every inch of space in her mind for over an hour before she’s brought out of whatever dream state fog she was in. She lets out a deep breath and shakes her head a little before going about wrapping the presents she had bought earlier in the day while sipping her Christmas Starbucks drink, falling back in love with the holidays all over again.

“No, no, no, no,” Y/N groans as she twists and turns the knobs for her shower, and yet, nothing happens. Only a few drops fall to the tiled floor causing her to let out another string of curses. “This can not be happening,” she says.

But it was. Y/N’s hair was a mess, beyond greasy and a bit matted from her sleep last night. Not to mention she smelt like sweat from bringing up the box that held her new fake christmas tree this morning. She had been tempted to walk down the hall and knock on Harry's door, but she didn’t want to be annoying and fall into the stereotypes of the helpless young female living on her own for the first time. So instead she grabbed a cable knit sweater, tugged on her old dirty ugg boots, and went down in the elevator to meet with the Amazon delivery person. Little did she know that the box was way too tall for the elevator. So, she ended up bringing it up herself. All six flights of stairs, Y/N pulled and dragged that box up to her floor which caused her to break quite the sweat. Thankfully, it wasn’t so heavy, but she couldn’t help but think that she went through all of this just so she could get her new fake christmas tree up. Freaking fake! Not even a real one because apparently that wasn't allowed at her apartment building. Oh, how she was going to miss the smell of a fresh christmas tree. And oh, how she wanted to get rid of this disgusting smell of sweat she embodied now.

“Why me?” She winces, looking up at the ceiling and letting the glass door for her shower close as she gave up on the water magically appearing.

Is this the most appropriate time to not be shy and knock on Harry's door? Suddenly, her Apple watch vibrates, and she brings her arm up to see the reminder she had set before to tell her of the tight schedule she’s on for the day. With only 45 minutes left to get ready, she needed to get moving quickly. Y/N curses herself for wasting the past fifteen minutes on her phone, reading over her newest Instagram comments and aimlessly scrolling through her feed. So she tugs both sides of her purple robe that she had changed into anticipating a shower in her own home. Y/N pulls it tighter and ties the belt around her waist into a bow, and before she can give it a second thought, she’s out the door of her own apartment and starting down the hallway.

Harry didn’t know when he thought Y/N would eventually knock on his door. A part of Harry was hoping that she would have knocked sooner than a week later. But nonetheless, when there was a frantic knock on his door, he didn’t miss how his heart skips in his chest as he imagined Y/N standing on the other side. Peering through the peephole in his door he saw her standing there - in a bathrobe? Harry's brows pull together in confusion as he unlocks the door and heaves the door open.

“Is your water working?” She asks, her voice sounding as panicked as her knocking had been. But before Harry can answer she starts talking a million miles an minute. “Cause mine’s not, like not a single drop and I need to shower. So badly. And I know it’s probably super weird and rude of me to just bang on your door and ask to use your shower. Honestly, I can’t even believe I am but I am in such a hurry and I have the busiest day ahead of me with work and going to the-”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off abruptly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and blinks up at him. “You need to use my shower? Is that what you’re getting at?”

Harry is a bit thrown off, not once did he think she’d come knocking for this reason. He glances down the hall awkwardly. He hopes that that noisy neighbour of theirs across the hall wasn’t peeping into their conversation, or seeing Y/N in this bathrobe. Mr Matthers can be a bit of a creep, Harry thinks. At the thought he hears a creak come from behind the door that’s across the hall.

She nods, “I know it’s like super strange to ask but mine is not working and I don’t have time to figure it out.” When Harry looks back at her, he notices she’s staring down at the ground between them, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she’s realizing what she’s gotten herself into. Harry didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

“S’alright, really, come in,” Harry says while opening the door to his apartment wider.

Y/N gives him a smile of appreciation before stepping into his home. The layout of Harry’s apartment is really just the opposite of hers, but the interior design he’s gone with is a lot better.

He’s gone for the classic monochrome look with blacks, white and greys. But with pops of colour where it matters, like a blanket over the back of his large L-shaped couch that looked handmade. She wonders if a family member made it, quite liking the light blues and pinks blended together. He’s got the same hardwood flooring like her own apartment and the plain off white paint on the walls - but with a few very unique paintings hung up on them. There’s two tall shelves, full of vinyls and novels and some picture frames too, that are on either side of his large flat screen tv which he took the time to hook up on the wall. It’s got a TV show paused on the screen, in her quick glance she can’t tell what show he was watching before she knocked but it looked like a cooking show. The corners of her lips twitch up into a smile at the thought of Harry being into cooking or baking maybe. He’s got a matching chair to his couch in the living room too that looks like she could fall asleep in it within a second. Overall it simply seems more grown up than her apartment - more put together and clean, that’s for sure.

To give her some credit, she has just moved in while she’s sure Harry’s been here for a while. Harry steps away from the door after locking it again, taking a few steps in order to be in her line of sight. With an arm thrown up, finger pointing down the hall, he gives Y/N another smile. He can’t help it, she looks rather adorable in that purple bathrobe. Was that all she was wearing? He thought to himself. He clears his throat as his mind goes on to imagine what’s under that plush purple material she’s wearing.

“Bathroom’s the first on the left,” he states, “did you bring your own soap or anything?”

“Honestly, no, I just kind of ran out of my place in quite a hurry and didn’t think twice as I got the sudden nerve to come over here.”

“Well, lucky for you I care about hair care, so there’s some good shampoos and even a nice hair oil to put into your hair afterwards when it’s damp. It’s in a small clear bottle with a white and gold label, by my toothbrush,” Harry explains. Y/N nods and starts towards the bathroom. With each step further into Harry’s home, she realizes what exactly she’s done. She can’t believe it really - just asking a complete stranger to let her shower in their home. She could be a murderer for all Harry knew, and he just opened his home up so freely. She steps into the bathroom, switching on the lights and the fan, she shuts the door and sighs. Lifting her arm up her Apple watch lights up to show the time. She had twenty minutes tops to shower, that’s all.

The bathroom is clean, very clean actually. Y/N lets her gaze wander around the space for a moment. There’s matching hand towels and all his skin and hair care are placed neatly on the small counter space too. She assumes he’s a bit of a neat freak. Turning to the shower, she opens the glass door gently and instantly reaches for the silver knobs. As she turns them water falls from the showerhead above her.

“Thank God,” she whispers while looking up at the water.

Y/N adjusts it to her preferred temperature and then she works on untying the knot of her robe. Words can’t describe how grateful she is that it held together in front of Harry. Him seeing her in the robe and with her hair in the state it’s in is embarrassing enough. Honestly, she can’t believe she even knocked on his door in it, and without any clothes to change into afterwards too. Stupid, she thinks while opening the glass door once more and stepping into the shower.

As Harry had said, there’s many bottles littering the built in shelves of the shower. Her fingers lazily turn the bottles so the labels face her. They’re all scented lavender of some sorts, helping with curly hair and volume. Well that explains why his hair looks so lovely, Y/N thinks as she opens a bottle of shampoo and squeezes it till a good amount falls into her other hand. As she hums ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ she lathers up her hair and massages her scalp. Rinsing it out after and then doing the same with the conditioner. While she lets the conditioner sit in her hair she scans the few other bottles on the shelves for a body wash. She didn’t want to come out of the shower smelling like a pre-teen boy, but she also did not want to smell like sweat. Goats milk and lavender infused, Y/N reads the label of what looks to do a locally owned product. She can’t help but smile as she reaches for it and pours some into her hands before rubbing it over her skin. There’s something so sweet knowing that Harry supports local businesses. He really doesn’t seem like the guys that Y/N is used to.

Three sharp knocks on the door startle Y/N, bringing her out of her day dreams. She quickly brings her arms up to her chest, trying to save herself some modesty if Harry did walk in. Because of course she didn’t think to lock the door. God, what if Harry is a murderer? Y/N thinks. She doesn’t know him, he could very well walk in here with a large kitchen knife and stab her multiple times in the chest while the water begins to run red and she dies right here all because she thought his dimpled smile and green eyes were enduring. Didn’t she learn anything from the whole Ted Bundy thing? Hello, hot guy doesn’t immediately mean nice!

“Y/N?” Harry calls out from the other side of the door, raising his voice just slightly so she could hear it over the running water. She shakes her head from her ridiculous thought - no more Criminal Minds at night for her, she takes the quick mental note.

“Yes?” She responds.

“I just realized I didn’t give you a towel,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he closes his eyes and tries to not imagine his neighbour naked in his shower. Harry’s fist tightens around the towel as his mind ignores him and thinks of how the water is dripping down her skin.

“Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. Looking around the bathroom beyond the foggy glass. There weren't any towels that she could see. Maybe they were under the sink.

“So I uh, I grabbed one for you. I can just open the door really fast and drop it in, I wouldn’t look in I swear, I’d face the hallway and just reach through,” he clarifies, “wait, you locked the door didn’t you?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Y/N says, “so yeah just drop it in, please and thank you,”

Harry nods, regardless of the fact Y/N can’t see him. He takes a deep breath before turning the doorknob and opening the door just a crack. The towel doesn’t quite fit through, so he opens it a bit more. His eyes are on the towel as he makes sure it gets into the bathroom. He notices the steam pillowing in the small space and just before he looks the other way, he sees Y/N’s purple bathrobe on the floor. Only her purple bathrobe. Harry swallows and drops the towel to the floor and quickly shuts the door again. Y/N jumps at the sudden slam of the door, her heart having been beating out of her chest as she stood under the warm stream of water and listened to Harry deliver the towel.

He spins around and walks away from the bathroom in a brisk walk, making it to his kitchen in record time. He takes a few breaths and blinks at the view from his kitchen window above the sink. It’s beginning to snow. Something tells him this will excite Y/N - just a feeling he has. He hardly knows the girl and he’s been conjuring up versions of her in his head these past seven days. He’d heard her play music through the walls Tuesday night, he recognized the artist after a few moments. Van Morrison, one of his favourites. What were the odds? He had thought. But then he quickly shut that thought down because many people liked Van Morrison, and just because his very cute neighbour liked the same music he did, that didn’t mean she was meant for him.

Then on Thursday in the middle of the day he had seen her running across the street from his apartment. One thing he loved about his apartment facing the front of the building is how he got to see people coming and going. That day it looked as though she was carrying a take out bag from his favourite restaurant. Again, what were the odds that she liked the same place? But again, he had another hard conversation with himself saying that it was a rather popular place in this area and lots of people liked to go there. Y/N was still a stranger to him. A naked and attractive stranger who was in his bathroom right now.

Harry breathes in deeply and leans both hands at either side of his sink as he watches the large snowflakes fall over New York City. He still couldn’t believe he lived here sometimes. Having grown up in a rather small town in Northern England, where the most exciting thing was the bakery he used to work in as a young teen or maybe the fun graffiti on some of the walls downtown, living in NYC always seemed a bit unrealistic to think of. But this was always a dream of his. To be in one of the biggest cities in the United States and doing what he loved the most.

“It’s snowing?” Y/N’s voice full of irritation catches Harry off guard. He turns around to see her standing in the threshold between his kitchen and living room. That purple robe, which would be making an appearance in his dreams he’s sure of, is back on her now clean body while the towel he had given her is wrapped around her hair atop of her head.

“You don’t like the snow?” Harry questions, both of his brows raised high at how off he was about his instinct of her loving the snow.

“No, I mean, yes I do,” she shakes her head slightly, “I just don't like driving it in. New York drivers already freaking suck and the moment snow starts falling it’s like they forget how to drive altogether.” Y/N explains, crossing her arms at her chest.

“It’s the same in London, nearly got into a few accidents in my early years of driving thanks to it,” Harry reveals. Y/N smiles at the knowledge about himself he had let slip, regardless of how irrelevant it is.

“Anyways,” she sighs, “thank you for letting me barge in here and use your shower.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Harry assures her.

“No seriously, you saved me a lot of trouble.”

Harry’s chest swells at her words, mirroring her smile as he stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his trousers and leans back against the edge of the counter. Y/N takes this time to look over Harry’s outfit. He’s got on a cream collared ribbed t-shirt, a beaded necklace adorning his neck, a pair of brown pants that flare out and nearly hid his white sock covered feet. He doesn't dress like the men Y/N sees day to day. It's different, kind of old school, but she likes it. Suits him, she thinks, despite the fact that she barely knows him.

“You’ve got to drive somewhere?” Harry questions, unsure if he’s prying.

“Yeah, JFK unfortunately,” she frowns.

“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Harry says.

“Thanks for the reminder, yeah,” Y/N teases him while fighting back the smile pulling at her mouth.

“Sorry, I just meant that it’s sort of a long drive and airport terminals are a pain, that's all.”

“I’m just bugging you. It most definitely is going to be a nightmare,” Y/N agrees with a chuckle, “and I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” She adds while jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her own apartment. Harry nods and notices how her robe’s a bit looser than before as she drops her arms and it falls a few inches down her shoulder - exposing more of her soft looking skin. Harry has to look away and walk towards his front door with Y/N before his imagination gets the best of him.

Harry unlocks the door and holds it open for Y/N to walk out of his home. He liked having her in his space. Harry internally curses himself for yet another intimate thought about his neighbour fogs up his mind. Just as she steps over the threshold of his apartment, Y/N spins on her heels quickly and reaches up with both hands to grab the twisted up towel around her hair. Harry nearly comes undone right then and there. The sight of her wet hair falling down effortlessly around her freshly washed face causes Harry’s mouth to feel dry suddenly. But as she makes the move to reach up, pulling it off of her head, and then holding out the towel in front of her, all of this causes her robe to fall even more off of her shoulders. Now both of her shoulders were fully exposed for him to see. Which Y/N notices right away and blushes, rushing to try and readjust herself, then only holding the towel with one hand while she bares her other arm over her chest to keep the robe from falling open completely.

“Nearly stole your towel,” Y/N breathes out.

She’s distracted by how her robe is slipping apart and how Harry’s eyes are falling with it. Harry clears his throat and takes the towel from her, giving her a chance to fix her robe, and he leans against his door for support as his head spins from the scene he has played out in his head. Her robe falling apart, seeing the swell of her breasts, how her nipples must look. He imagines they’re hard from the chill in the hallway, pebbling into little buds. Then he’s imagining how he’d pull her back into his apartment, kissing and touching all over her skin till she’s left breathless and begging for more.

“Thanks,” Harry says and drops his arm to hold the towel down at his side.

“I owe you one,” Y/N states, “for letting me use the shower,” she adds. She’s not sure what else he would think she’s talking about, but she just felt the need to clarify. And she really needed to get back to her own apartment and finish getting ready. “See you around, Harry,” she says with a smile before walking away and hurrying into her home.

Harry thinks of how he should've wished her a safe flight, or even said goodbye. But instead he heard her door shut and followed suit by closing his own. Harry walks into his living room - discarding the towel on the back of his large arm chair, before moving his acoustic guitar from where it was laying on his couch and taking a seat. He then reaches for his cell phone that was left on the coffee table. Opening his contact, he finds the building's maintenance number and calls them.

“Hey Phil, how are you doing?... Good, I’m good yeah, uh, I’m just calling because the water in 602 isn’t working...Yeah Y/N, she actually had to leave in a bit of a rush, so I just wanted to make sure someone got in there as soon as possible to check it out,” Harry explains the situation to the building’s head maintenance man. “I’m not entirely sure when she’ll be back home, maybe you could give her a quick call and double check... Just being a friendly neighbour, Phil… Thanks Phil, have a good day and say hi to Georgia and the kids for me… Bye.”

Harry hangs up the phone and sets it back down onto the table, looking at the open notebook beside it. He hadn’t written anything all morning. Just had a few good cords stuck in his head. Harry picks up the guitar once more and plays the cords.

“Tangled wet hair, soft silk skin, looking so good it should be a sin,” Harry sings softly. It’s not his best and it’s not even that good, if he’s honest with himself. But it seems that Y/N sparked some inspiration inside of him. He grabs his pen, and starts scribbling down the words that now flow through his mind. Finishing with writing ‘Plush Purple Robe’ in capital letters before dropping the pen and going back to strumming the guitar.

He wrote nearly an entire song, thanks to how Y/N looked in that damn bathrobe standing in his apartment, and he just knew this would result in some teasing words from his friends when he brought it into their studio session next week.

Y/N was tired and her third Starbucks of the day wasn’t helping her out at all. She brings a hand up to cover yet another yawn that escapes her. Her eyes feel heavy, drooping as she blinks slowly a few times at her screen. She feels as though she might doze off if it wasn’t for the loud bang of the mail cart smacking against the elevator doors signalling it’s arrival for the day. It jolts her upright once again and she takes another big gulp of coffee, and sends a prayer up above, before she begins clicking away again at her laptop trying to finalize her schedule for the upcoming month of December.

Fittings, photoshoots, buyers meetings, and more fittings, there was rarely any free time in the first two weeks of the month. But thankfully her boss isn’t a complete Grinch and gave her minimal work during the last two weeks. Plus Y/N really did love her job. She lived for the magic world of fashion. The way her bustling office just meant that the designer’s creations were coming to life as A list celebrities and New York's elite fell in love with the pieces she’s gone through lengths to get for them.

She also loved Christmas just as much, if not more, as her job. Even thinking about everything she was looking forward to this holiday season made her feel all giddy inside now. Growing up in the city meant she knew the thrill of skating in Central Park and seeing the Rockefeller Christmas tree being lit up. Her smile was as bright as the lights. She loved going to the annual Christmas markets that were held; walking around with hot chocolate in her hands as she browsed the many homemade soaps and ornaments, and even clothing too. Y/N even enjoyed shopping at the Macy’s down the street and gasping at their holiday displays, and found herself buying a few too many decorations for her home while there. Over the past few days - with any free time she had off work - she had gone into full blown decorating mode in her apartment. It was like Santa’s village and it filled her with so much joy as she set everything into its rightful place in her new home, smiling from ear to ear at the twinkling lights and tinsel lining the perimeter of every room.

“Earth to Y/N,” her co-worker, Sammy, sings while leaning back in his desk chair to try and make eye contact with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, zoning back into reality and turning her own chair away from her desk that was up against the large floor to ceiling windows.

“Daydreaming about that hot new neighbour of yours?” Sammy teases her with a smug look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I was not,” she says, “I’m regretting telling you about him already,” she adds. Sammy returns the eye roll.

“There’s no shame in having some eye candy as a neighbour you know,”

“Yeah there is when-“

“Y/N!” Her name suddenly being yelled across the room cuts her sentence off and makes Sammy and herself look over to where it came from. They both see their boss, Amanda, standing in the doorway of her office with both hands up in the air and a look of annoyance across her face. Y/N’s watch vibrates just on time to remind her of her meeting with Amanda. She’s always at least five minutes early; suppose daydreaming about the holidays - not her hot new neighbour - had put her behind schedule a bit.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Sammy says as he rolls his chair back over to his own desk while Y/N closes her laptop, taking it and a notebook with her quickly before slipping her feet back into her black heels. She always took them off when she sat at her desk to give her poor feet a break. As she broke into a speed walk across the office space, nearly avoiding the mail cart, she internally went over what today's meeting entailed.

“Sorry Amanda,” Y/N apologizes as she steps into the office, closing the glass door behind her quietly.

“It’s alright, you’re rarely even a few minutes behind that schedule of yours, so I was more surprised than anything,” Amanda states as she smooths her dress out and takes a seat at her desk. Y/N takes a seat in the chair across her desk, setting her laptop on her lap and then the notebook on top of it while she keeps her favourite pen in hand. It had a cheesy Christmas sweater snowflake pattern on it, which Y/N had bought a whole set for her and Sammy at Target last week.

“I wanted to quickly talk about your time with Miss Woods a couple days ago,” Amanda says, referring to one of the clients from North Carolina that had visited recently. “She said you showed her great hospitality and were a true New Yorker in her eyes, her words exactly.” Amanda gives Y/N a proud smile. “So, great job. She ended up purchasing those Gucci purses we had bought in hopes she’d like them even though she didn't ask for them. All thanks to you putting her in such a good mood, really.”

“Well she was a blast to be around, age really didn't slow her down,” Y/N and Amanda share a laugh. “She turned up my radio every time we got in my car, ordered doubles at dinner and brunch, and even talked about boy issues with me. It was a great time,” Y/N explains while adjusting herself in her seat and crossing a leg over the other casually.

“I think it’s your energy. Your love for this city can be infectious sometimes Y/N,” Amanda says. Y/N’s lips pull up into a smile at her words, they made her feel warm inside.

“Thank you,” she says softly with a nod.

“Now, onto what’s happening over this next week, let’s see how our schedules look,” Amanda starts as she opens her large planner than was always either on her desk or brought home in her large Louis Vuitton purse.

“I got an email from the lovely Mrs. Archibald this morning,” Y/N states. Amanda shakes her head as her face twists up at the mention of one of their bigger clients who happens to be married to the richest man in New York City. It’s just too bad she’s a real bitch sometimes because her attitude could make doing their job a bit harder at times. But Amanda and Y/N loved a challenge, and Mrs Archibald was just that. “She has a last minute dinner party tomorrow and she needs the newest item from Gucci that we can find immediately,” Y/N explains.

“Shit, our new stuff from Gucci doesn’t come in till next Monday,” Amanda curses, eyes roaming around her desk as if the answer to her problem would pop up somewhere.

“I know, which is why I went ahead and called Greg at the store on Fifth and Fiftieth, he said they just got a handful of exclusive holiday pieces early and would gladly have one of us pick a couple items up for Mrs Archibald,” Y/N says. Amanda’s sour look fades instantly and is replaced with a wide smile.

“What would I do without you, honestly!” Amanda exclaims. “Head over to Gucci after lunch today, and then we’ll get Mrs Archibald in first thing tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Y/N says while jotting down her after lunch plans onto a blank page in her notebook.

“How’s your influencer work going for you?” Amanda asks, her eyes on her planner in front of her instead.

“It’s been good, getting closer to five hundred thousand every day. I think the holidays will push me over the mark soon enough,” Y/N states.

“Great, make sure you’re getting close up shots of the dresses Greg shows you. Tease the people of what an exclusive holiday gown looks like,” Amanda suggests. Y/N smiles and jots down the note.

Having an audience was never the goal for Y/N. In fact, she thought of suspending her Instagram account all together once she got the promotion at work. She was worried that it would cause a conflict of interest, but Amanda and the rest of the team saw it as a plus. Having so many people follow Y/N’s life, being interested in what she’s interested in, wanting to get their hands on what she had, all lead to good publicity for the company. It even got them a few A list celebrities because of her account as they saw the company’s name in her bio, which led to contacting the company about setting some fittings up.

And with that set up, they settle into the rest of their itinerary for the week, making note of who needed to be involved with what, and who would be coming into their offices. Jennifer freaking Aniston was scheduled for a fitting this Friday and Y/N was praying she made it back from picking up an order of Louis Vuitton scarfs in time to see her in her custom grown that their team's seamstresses had been working tirelessly on with Prada’s team.

By the end of her and Amanda’s meeting, it was time for lunch. Sammy was waiting by her desk with his black Gucci backpack in hand that Y/N was sure held a Kardashian sized salad. Y/N was glad she meal-prepped teriyaki chicken and rice, so she didn’t have to eat yet another salad seeing as Sammy had gotten her into the over sized salad eating last month; she’s had enough of it.

“I’ve gotta head over to Gucci on Fifth Ave after,” Y/N states with a smile as her and Sammy walk into the conference room that they used for lunch sometimes, shielding themselves away from work a bit - even if the walls were glass and they could still see everyone working around them.

“Lucky bitch,” Sammy grumbles, “Greg always hooks you up with some free pieces when you go there, I swear.”

“Hey it’s only been a few items, nothing crazy,” Y/N defends herself before taking a bite of her lunch.

“Oh I’m sorry, two rings and a pair of tights are nothing crazy? Every other influencer would kill someone for those tights. Firstly, they’re so cute. And secondly, those rings cost my monthly rent.”

“I’m not complaining about any work perks. Maybe you could come with and get to know Greg a bit and get your own ring or two?”

Sammy chews his mouth full of salad, “no thanks, it’s so freaking cold out there. I’ll stay inside where it’s warm,” he says.

“Then don’t complain when I get another pair of tights and you don’t,” Y/N scowls playfully.

“I’d look so much better in those tights, you can’t even deny it,” Sammy says and pokes his fork at Y/N. She raises her hands up in surrender.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare to deny it, ever,” she smiles. They eat a few bites in silence. Y/N starts to feel a bit more energized by the protein she’s eating, thankfully. She now had a long journey to the Gucci store and back as well as a ton of emails to filter through too - which she’s sure will follow her home till the late hours of the night.

“What are you planning to wear for the Christmas office party?” Sammy chimes in, his eyes still on his phone.

“I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs and brings up her Pinterest app on her phone. “I found this outfit and am dying over it every day but I really should just find something in my closet and restyle it, I'm getting more broke by the day.”

“Blame your excessive christmas shopping habits,” Sammy deadpans while glancing at her phone screen.

“I’m aware of why I'm broke, thank you,” she deadpans back, narrowing her eyes at him. “Maybe Greg will have it in his heart to lend me a special piece for the party,” Y/N taunts Sammy with a smile on her face.

“Shut up,” he groans. Y/N laughs and is just about to shut her phone screen off when a phone call comes through from her apartment building maintenance.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hi Phil… Oh that’s awesome news thank you so much for getting it fixed so soon… Yes, I’m glad Harry called in about it right away too…” Y/N notices how her friend's eyebrows fly up at the mention of Harry’s name. “Lovely, thanks again Phil… Have a great day… Bye,” she hangs up the phone and sets it on the table in front of her.

“What did Harry do now?” Sammy questions without a second to spare. Y/N rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself as she smiles.

“He called in about the water in my apartment like right after I made a mad dash out of his place to go pick up Mrs Woods in time. I hadn't even thought of calling about it and then I got a call on my way to the airport from the head maintenance guy saying Harry told him about it and asked for verbal permission to enter my apartment while I was out,” Y/N explains to him. She was still shocked by Harry’s kindness. Not only did he offer his shower to her, but he then got hers check out that same day. She probably wouldn't have called about it till the next day, if she was lucky to have any free time to stop by her house between entertaining Mrs Woods.

“What a neighbourly thing to do,” Sammy says smugly.

“Shut up, he’s just a nice guy.”

“Mhmm,” Sammy hums while stabbing his salad again for another bite.

The two of them continue to enjoy their lunch break and catch up on what’s been going on in the office. Their fellow associate Kate was trying to sleep with the mail cart boy. He seems freshly twenty one, if that. Just seven years younger than Kate, but she’s a well known cougar - it’s been a thing for, like, two years now. And Julianne was sick again, for the third time in two months. That was the extent of the office drama, sadly. Y/N packs up her bag with her left over lunch, notebook, and laptop before heading back to her desk with Sammy to get her coat and bundle up to brace the cold weather.

At least it wasn’t snowing.

The snow is coming down like a blizzard, making it hard for Harry to see in front of him. It was a colder day, his weather app had called for cloudy skies and a chance of some light flurries - but that all changed in a split second and had Harry racing home from the coffee shop a few blocks away. He’s just praying his notebook full of new song ideas, based off his people watching this afternoon that’s now in his tote bag, doesn't get wet in the short trip he has to walk. Just as he’s about to turn left down the last block till his building, he sees a young woman struggling to walk along the sidewalk in her heels just in front of him. She’s carrying a large beige garment bag, having it folded over her arm as she tries to maneuver around the busy sidewalk and everyone is rushing to get out of the storm. Harry’s just behind her now, that’s when he recognizes the jacket and scarf.

“Y/N?” Harry says, trying to not startle her. But of course, as Y/N turns around to look behind her at whoever had just called out her name on the busy streets of New York, she slips.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, trying to keep the garment bag up so it doesn’t damage the dresses inside, but that means she doesn’t have any hands to throw out to catch herself. Harry sees her begin to fall and reaches out without hesitation. “The bag,” she says, trying to get Harry’s attention to saving the garment bag rather than her. But of course he manages to wrap his arms under hers and hold her upright, standing straight to get her back on her feet once more.

“Shit, I’m sorry, shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Harry says.

Y/N squints at him through the thick snowflakes, he’s standing so close though that she doesn’t have troubles staring into his enchanting eyes. She smiles, adjusting the dresses and her bag before motioning to their apartment building only a couple blocks away. “Let’s get out of this snow storm,” she suggests.

“Right,” Harry agrees and lets her start the walk - that way he can stick close behind in case those death heels of hers cause her to slip again.

Y/N regrets her decision of wearing heels so much right now. She’s sure her cheeks are still red from embarrassment of nearly falling on her ass in front of so many people. Harry’s seen in her purple bathrobe, which is already embarrassing, but falling in heels in this snow storm would’ve only added to her list of making a fool of herself in front of him.

When she arrived at Gucci it was just cloudy, but then after nearly two hours inside the store - mostly chatting with Greg and his associates, she walked outside into the blizzard. Her office was too far of a walk, she knew getting a cab or an Uber during the storm would just be a nightmare and she didn’t want to wait around. There was no way she was going to risk taking the subway while carrying the garment bag that said Gucci right on it and have some lowlife steal thousands of dollars of designer clothes from her. So, she went with the most obvious option of getting these pieces out of the snow storm and headed to her apartment building that was only a few blocks away, thankfully.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Y/N says with a sigh as Harry uses his key to let them into the building. They both brush the snow off themselves as they walk across the lobby and to the elevator. “I would've been dead if this fell into a puddle or something,” she states while lifting the garment bag.

“Does that say Gucci?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at the label on the bag.

“Yeah, I just had to pick up a few things for work,” Y/N explains vaguely. Harry has followed Gucci on Instagram for years, he loves their pieces and finds what they make to be so wonderful. He wishes he had the money to spend on a shopping trip there and yet here is his neighbour - who he may or may not be crushing on - with a large garment bag with Gucci items inside. “I can’t even imagine what Mrs Archibald would've done if I messed these up, god she'd have a fit,” Y/N says with a chuckle, looking at the floors lighting up as the elevator moved.

“Your boss?” Harry questions.

“No, a client, super rich and super bitchy,” Y/N answers, emphasizing both times she says super to really get her point across. She moves the garment bag from one arm to the other, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“Client? What kind of work do you do?” Harry tries to ask casually, not trying to seem creepy or invading in any way.

Y/N smiles, “I’m a part of the, oh so lovely, fashion industry.”

“You don’t like it?” Harry questions, eyebrows furrowed together.

“No, I do,” she corrects him.

The elevator opens then, Harry motions for Y/N to exit first as he had before. She smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. Just as she fishes her keys from her coat pocket she turns back and looks at Harry when he walks past her. “I owe you, again, for saving my ass, literally from falling,” she says. Harry stops walking and looks at her, she smiles and tilts her head to the side. “And for calling the maintenance guy for the issues with my water,” she adds. Seems Phil spilled the beans, Harry thinks.

“I um, I wasn’t sure how long your trip was, and I just thought it’d be the nice thing to do by making sure they could get it fixed as soon as they could,” Harry explains.

“I actually didn’t go on a trip, I just had to pick someone up from the airport. But regardless it was very nice to know you thought of it for me. So thank you, I owe you, Harry,” she says again, giving him yet another one of her dreamy smiles. Harry’s heart did a little pitter patter in his chest as he looked over her face, taking in how her wispy hairs were wet from the snow that had melted on her head and how her eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting of the hallway. But her lips, he’s been imagining those lips for two days now. Along with that purple bathrobe being on his floor again - his bedroom instead of the bathroom though.

“How about dinner?” Harry blurts out. Y/N had turned back to her door, having it unlocked and open as he had fallen into one of his daydreams about her. She pauses mid step and looks back at where he had stood still, her eyebrows are furrowed together as she thinks he misheard him. Oh shit, abort! Abort! Backtrack and say nevermind before she flat out rejects you, Harry thinks while he waits for her response.

“I, uh, I,” Y/N stops her stuttering and closing her eyes for a moment. She lets out a sigh and opens her eyes again to meet his nervous stare. “I have to hang this up, and change these shoes first,” she says.

“Of course,” Harry nods.

Y/N ponders over it for a moment before coming to the realization that the weather outside was truly frightful and they shouldn’t go out anywhere. “Honestly we shouldn’t go back out there. What if I just ordered something in and you came over? You like pizza?”

“Love it,” Harry smiles. Y/N nods and opens her door further, stepping in to survey the state of her apartment. It’s not messy, thank God. She had time this morning to put away her clean laundry that had taken up her couch over the past few days. There’s a couple hoodies draped over the back of the couch though, a half full glass of water on the coffee table and her kitchen has a pile of dirty dishes beside the sink that she hadn’t gotten to putting in the dishwasher yet. She quickly bends down to put away the few pairs of shoes that were kicked off in whatever direction they went, and turns on the two light switches by the door to light up her living room and hallway.

“Well, come on in,” she says as she turns back to Harry. He smiles as she lets out a deep breath and opens her front door for him.

He should’ve guessed that it would look like Santa had thrown up in her apartment. It was traditional, which Harry loved opposed to the new all white or all gold themes some people went with, but there was a lot of it. A red and green checkered throw blanket over the back of her grey couch, a decent sized tree filled with lights and tinsel and ornaments that all matched, a family of snowmen in one corner of her living room, and many little vintage looking nicknacks along her tv stand, and few shelves around the space. Not to mention the priceless looking tiny christmas village that was set up on top of the desk by her front door, fake snow laid on top to really pull it all together. So much Christmas, and he was only looking in one room. He imagined this festive feeling went throughout her entire home.

“It kind of seems like a lot whenever someone new sees all of my Christmas crap,” Y/N says, breaking Harry’s stare away from her living room and back to her now. She had hung up the Gucci bag on the closet door to her left, and had slipped out of her shoes and was now undoing the buttons of her coat. Her eyes are on the decorations around them though, looking unsure as she takes it all in.

“It’s lovely, honestly, not crap at all,” Harry assures her. Y/N turns back to look at him and mirrors his smile.

“I just have a big soft spot for the holidays, I can’t help myself from buying four Christmas themed throw pillows if they make me feel all warm inside,” she explains, motioning to the couch that did in fact have four pillows on it.

“If it makes you happy, you don’t have to have any reason for buying ‘em.”

“I suppose so,” Y/N hums, finally taking off her coat and hanging it up.

Harry quickly takes his off too as she reaches for it, to hang it beside hers. He gives her a small thanks and then takes his shoes off, setting them beside hers . Y/N has walked into the threshold to the left that led to her kitchen. He notices the tinsel hanging from the beam and smiles before taking a quick peek into her kitchen. As he guessed, it’s all decked out in Christmas stuff too. Towels and nicknacks that seem to replace everyday things like salt and pepper shakers and her soap dispenser that was spaced like a snowman.

“I’ll order a pizza right away. Hopefully this weather won’t slow them down. Have you ever eaten at Sal’s down the street?” Y/N questions.

“Tons,” Harry says. He leans against the threshold to the kitchen and watches as Y/N sets her purse on her small kitchen table and fishes through it for her cell phone. She’s got this crease between her brows as she can’t seem to find it, but it instantly goes away and is replaced with a smile as the iPhone is in her hands.

“Do you like anything on your pizza?” She asks, eyes on her phone screen and she brings up the menu. She typically just gets a cheese, sometimes spices it up with a vegetarian pizza cause she likes the green peppers and red onions.

“I’m actually a vegetarian,” Harry states. “Well, I eat fish on occasion so I guess I’m a pescetarian.”

“Oh cool,” Y/N says, looking up to see Harry’s watching her from the space between her kitchen and living room. The way he’s leaning against the small space of wall, arms crossed at his chest and head tilted to the side - he looks good. He’s dressed in a pair of beige trousers, straight and baggy as his last ones were too, and has a white tank top tucked into the waistband while he layered with a fun patterned button up shirt. She can’t quite make out what is printed on the shirt, but the little squares seem to each have a picture in them.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Y/N can’t stop herself from asking, the fashion lover in her wanting to know.

Harry glances down at the short sleeved shirt on his body, then shrugs, “I think I thrifted it back home in England a few years back,” he says.

“I like it,” she says, then brings up one shoulder in a shrug to make it seem more casual. It’s not weird to compliment your neighbours clothing, Y/N thinks as she glances back down at her phone. “I’m going to order a cheese and they have a great vegetarian pizza too that I like,” she tells Harry while punching in her order on her delivery app.

“Yeah, I’ve had it before, it’s pretty great,” Harry agrees. Y/N can’t help as her body reacts to how low and slow Harry’s voice is. How she gets small chills throughout her body, as if threatening to pebble goosebumps along her arms, and how her mind feels foggy almost as she listens to him speak. She rolls her lips into her mouth and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her fitted black pants. He could tell her the most pointless story and she would let him, just to hear his voice and that accent that went with it. Moving to her fridge, she finds the bottle of red she had opened last night. It’s such a normal thing for her to have a glass or two after work that she doesn’t even think of her guest. He might not even like wine.

“Do you drink?” Y/N asks, looking over her shoulder to see Harry still in the same spot but his hands now in the front pocket of his trousers.

“What are we drinking?” He asks with a smile.

Y/N smiles back, as she always does, and reaches for the wine she had her eye on. “I opened this bottle of wine last night, it’s red. Would you be interested in a glass?” She asks, holding the bottle up for Harry to see.

“I’d love a glass, thanks.”

“Perfect,” Y/N nods and sets the bottle down on the counter beside her fridge. “You can get comfortable on the couch, I’ll bring our drinks in a moment.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nods. With one final glance up her body as she reaches high in her cupboard for two wine glasses for them, he shakes his head and turns around. He has to stop checking her out, he has no idea if she’s into him or not. She’s simply being a nice neighbour, and here he was, fancying her so much he’s checking her out like some horny teenager.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, walking around the back of the couch to take a seat on the corner furthest from where the Christmas tree lit up Y/N’s living room. He really did like all of her joy that she’s put into decorating her home. There’s no doubting her love for the holiday, not a single space feels like it was forgotten as she must have spent all day setting it up. He especially liked the framed photo on the side table to his right, where there was also a rather plain lamp and a Santa spaced coaster too. Inside the frame was a small child who he knew immediately was Y/N. There was no mistaking that smile of hers even at such a young age. She’s sitting on a man’s lap, a man dressed as Santa, but it’s truly the most realistic mall Santa he’s even seen. Harry thinks back to his home in that moment, imagining the many photos of him and his older sister with many variations of mall Santas that must be littering his mum’s house by now. Truthfully, many of them didn’t leave the shelves during the year.

“Here you go,” Y/N says as she holds out a wine glass nearly half full of red wine to Harry. He takes it from her, his fingers brushing hers for a moment and sending those childish tingles through his body.

“Thanks,” he nods and brings the glass to his lips to have a taste. If he wouldn’t be so infatuated by Y/N, he would have told her that he typically didn’t drink red wine. He typically doesn’t drink at all, except for the occasional night out with his mates. But he saw that look on her face that said ‘I need a glass or two’ and he couldn’t say no, knowing it’d make her feel awkward and end up not having a glass herself.

Y/N lets out a long sigh as she takes a seat on the other side of the couch, relaxing alongside Harry as if they aren’t complete strangers. He liked that she felt comfortable around him. She did in fact enter his apartment the other day in a bathrobe and use his shower after all. After she takes another long sip of wine, she sets it down on a matching Santa coaster that sits on the coffee table - Harry notices now that she had brought the bottle of wine with her too.

“Long day?” He questions. Y/N nods, tucking her legs under her as she gets comfortable on the couch beside him. She clears her throat softly before answering him.

“Uh, yeah, work’s just been a lot lately and I’m actually looking forward to some time off,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair, and then leans her arm on the back of the couch. Harry watches her movements, bringing his glass of wine to his lips to have a small sip, which he notices she watches him do. He likes her eyes on his lips, he thinks before turning his body slightly and setting his wine on the side table. When he turns back and looks her way he notices the slightly tint of pink flushing over her cheeks. Harry fights the tug at his lips to smile at how she seemed to catch on that he caught her staring at his lips.

“That’s always the worst, feeling as if you’re counting down till the days off,” Harry exclaims.

“I typically don’t, to be honest. I love my job,” Y/N states. “It’s my career so I better,” she adds with a chuckle.

“So you’ve already found your career at such a young age then, that’s awesome. Have you always known you wanted to be involved in the fashion industry?” Harry asks, his eyebrows pulled together as he does find himself very curious of how she herself a career so young.

“First off, twenty four is really starting to not feel young anymore so let's not label me as a youngster or anything alright-“

“Um, twenty four is young but okay,” Harry cuts her off with a playful look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore his teasing. He’s always hung out around people older than him and typically dated women older too. But Y/N doesn't seem young. From what he’s seen from her, she doesn’t fit the mold of any twenty four year olds he’s known before - most being rather rude and partying their youth away while it’s obvious that Y/N worked hard during those years. Y/N looks as though she's got the whole world figured out already, and he admires that a lot.

“And secondly, yeah, I guess I sort of did know, not at first, of course, but it was always an interest of mine,” Y/N states, bringing Harry back to their conversation.

“What did you want to be when you were a youngster then?” He questions, using her choice of words back at her which makes Y/N chuckle. She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she falls back into memories of her childhood. She remembers being emotionally attached to a pair of plastic pink princess slippers and how she slept in her matching tiara for nearly a year before her mom put a stop to her fantasy.

“I wanted to be a princess-“

“Me too,” Harry says.

“Stop interrupting me,” Y/N laughs and reaches across the couch to smack his arm. Harry's head feels light, his cheeks hurt from grinning at Y/N so much. He hasn’t felt like this in quite a while. Being able to have a light conversion with a pretty girl. How she makes him smile and laugh so easily too, it’s a really nice feeling. “But you’d make a much prettier princess for sure-“

“Not at all,'' Harry disagrees, managing to cut her off yet again. She glares at him but can’t help the smile that's still on her face.

“Anyways, I wanted to be a princess and then I wanted to be one of Santa’s elves-”

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says as he’s not so surprised to hear her say so - seeing as it looked like Santa’s village inside her apartment.

Y/N chooses to ignore his short interruption this time and continues on. “But then as I got older and got ahold of the internet, I wanted to be a model cause I thought it was the most glamorous thing, but I wasn't as beautiful or skinny as Candice Swanepoel so that was out of the question-“

“This is the last time I'll interrupt you I promise,” Harry says, Y/N presses her lips tight together and gives Harry another look as if to say yeah right. “But I cannot let you sit here and say you aren't pretty or skinny enough to be a model, Y/N, because you are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen and your weight is nothing to ever question,” Harry pauses as he looks down at the sofa between them, realizing that he had said all that out loud. He was slightly embarrassed as he’s not sure how she’d take her neighbour saying all that to her.

My heart needs to calm down like now, Y/N thinks as she wets her lips and fidgets with her own hands as she watches Harry. “Y/N, don’t ever think less of yourself,” he adds in a gentle voice that sends chills down her spine.

Y/N doesn't respond right away, because honestly she's speechless. No one has ever said something so kind and so genuine to her. Sure, she’s gotten compliments from people, but the way Harry immediately stopped her from talking poorly of herself had made her stomach stir and her heart race. They had only just met, only had a few interactions - they were all good, great even - but Harry wasn’t like most people she’s met before and she’s beginning to realize that. She looks up to see Harry's watching her, his green eyes staring back at hers. Something switches in the air between them as Harry feels like he should lean in. Should he lean in? Would she want that? Does she want him?

“Thanks,” she smiles, bringing Harry back to their conversation. She clears her throat and sits up straight again, flipping her hair over her shoulders and snuggling into the couch some more. “If I ever feel down about myself again, I’ll be sure to knock on your door and demand you shower me in compliments,” Y/N teases.

“I’d be honoured to,” Harry says. There's another beat of silence, but it's not quiet inside his head. All he’s thinking about is how he should've made a move. She felt it too, right? Harry stops himself before he can go too far inside his head again while thinking about Y/N. “I won’t cut in again. Continue from the dreams of being a model - which you’d be a great model, by the way, don't count that one out just yet.”

Y/N smiles again, not even sure if she’s stopped smiling honestly. “Right, well, modeling led me into the world of fashion. Not that I hadn't known about Vogue or any of the high fashion houses since I did grow up in New York; fashion week had always been a highlight for me. But I actually started to look into the other sides of it. Designing wasn't an option, I just didn't feel original enough. So I did some personal assistant stuff during my high school years at fashion week, working behind the scenes at shows.”

Y/N pauses to lean forward and grabs her glass of wine again, needing liquid to coax her throat before she continued. Harry noticed that she was talking so passionately, probably not even realizing how much she was using her hands while speaking or how her eyes lit up at the world she painted for him. “And then I got a scholarship into FIT, the Fashion Institute of Technology. I was lucky enough to get an internship at my current workplace but quickly got offered a position on my graduation day, and now I'm one of our senior associates.”

“And what does your job really entitled to exactly?”

“We do a lot of things, but we’re really a personal shopper and stylist company. Working with many of New York's elite, even some of the east coast’s elite really, as well as celebrities too, which is always fun to see the dress you styled at the Met Gala or the Grammys. I just do a lot of running around, it feels like,” Y/N explains, “like how I had to rush to the Gucci store on Fifth Ave in order to get some pieces for Mrs. Achibald for tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a real tough job,” Harry taunts. Y/N returns his smug look and narrows her eyes at him playfully.

“Right, well what do you do then? You always seem to be home, I’m starting to think you don’t even have a job. Maybe you’ve just got a sugar daddy, hmm?” Y/N jokes. Harry lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. Y/N laughs with him before taking a sip of her wine that she had almost forgotten about.

“Definitely not a sugar baby, although that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, totally,” Y/N nods in agreement. They both chuckle again. Harry reaches for his wine to take a sip before answering her question for real this time. Blame the wine, he thinks, for any longing looks or laughing too much at her jokes just blame the red wine in his glass.

“I’m actually in the music industry, kind of,” Harry states.

“How are you kind of in the music industry?” Y/N questions curiously, her brows pulled together as she takes another sip of wine.

“I am a studio rat, as people in the industry would call it,” Harry says, Y/N’s face scrunches up at his words utterly confused at the term. “I pretty much live in music studios most of the year. Most of my time is taken up by writing. So I guess I’m a songwriter, but I also make demos for my songs with a few people I’ve grown close with in my studio, so I end up doing some instruments for artists' studio versions of songs. I do a bit of producing too, but I mostly leave that to my buddy, Tom.”

“Wow, that sounds like a really cool job. And here I was jabbering on about my job when you’re a songwriter? That’s so cool,” Y/N repeats, another sip of wine going down her throat as she stares at Harry. His cheeks are starting to turn red, eyes avoiding hers as he fidgets with his rings. “Have you written any songs I’d know?” She asks, trying to get more information out of him.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Y/N asks, brows pulled together.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t you be proud of your work?”

“Of course I am,” Harry says, bringing a crooked finger up to his nose before rubbing it twice. “I just know that my music might not be everyone's favourite.”

Since the beginning of his freelance songwriting career, Harry's always been nervous to show people what he’s poured his heart and soul into, especially to people he’s friends with, or people he likes. What if they hated it? He couldn’t bear listening to the fake “it's great” with an even faker smile. Although he knows people do like his songs, those people were mainly artists that bought his songs and their fans, of course, along with his fellow colleagues. He just doesn't want Y/N to hate his work.

“Well, I'm sure it's brilliant,” Y/N says. “And maybe one day you’ll show me.” She adds with a smile, not wanting to force the subject, over the rim of her wine glass before taking another sip and finishing off the red liquid in one small gulp. She frowns at the empty glass and sets it down on the Santa coaster on the coffee table. “Do you write all the time then?” Y/N asks, bringing her gaze back to Harry’s.

“Pretty much, although I’m in the studio less in December due to it being so close to the holidays. I’ve actually got my last session with my mates just in a few days.”

“Counting down the days till you have some time off?” She asks, referring to what he had said earlier to her.

“Not particularly,” Harry says.

Y/N is about to ask why, but then her phone bings from her pocket. It’s then that she realizes she hadn’t thought of looking at her phone once since sitting down with Harry. She had been so engrossed with their conversation, and feeling a light buzz that she managed to forget about the pizza she ordered. The notification on her screen read that her pizza had arrived at the building, and the delivery person would be here any second. Then her phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” Y/N answers the phone in a sweet voice. Harry has to stop himself from staring, instead finding himself grabbing the red wine that he wasn’t too fond of, and has a few sips as he listens to Y/N talk to, what he assumes, is the pizza delivery. She buzzes them up with one tap on her phone before the call ends. “Our dinner is finally here,” she tells Harry, even though he had gathered as much, but he still smiles in response. She stands from the couch and adjusts her pants by pulling them up slightly. They fit her so bloody well, Harry thinks. “And we are both nearly done with a glass of wine each before we’ve even eaten,” Y/N chuckles as she walks past Harry and to the kitchen to her purse.

While Y/N pays for their food, Harry takes it upon himself to top off her glass of wine. He was content with his last few sips between bites. Y/N sets the two pizza boxes on the coffee table before rushing into the kitchen to grab two plates and some napkins for them. They work together in a comfortable silence to get things set up; both boxes open and Y/N settles back onto the couch before they dig into the large New York slices.

Y/N brings a piece straight from the box to her mouth, once she bites into the greasy food she moans around her mouthful of cheesy pizza. Harry is just about to take his first bite as well but stops just short at the sounds that come from Y/N. He dares to glance her way, throat bobbing as he takes her in. Both eyes closed, her head hanging back and lips turned up into a smile as she chews her food. He watches her swallow, utterly mesmerized by her soft skin moving just slightly. Dear god, Styles, get it together, he thinks as he imagines her swallowing something else.

Y/N opens her eyes at the sound of Harry clearing his throat, turning her gaze to him and seeing him lift his piece of pizza to her in a ‘cheers’ manner. “Thanks again for the meal,” Harry says. There his voice does it again, sounding all low and throaty as it makes chills go down her spine.

“No problem,” Y/N nods. She tries to focus back on eating her food, willing the thoughts in her head to go away. But she can’t stop them from entering her dreams later that night after Harry and her had said their goodbye - Harry noticed her yawn a few times and began to clean up their plates and empty wine glasses while he continued to tell Y/N about his time in school before he was writing songs full time on his way to the kitchen. Y/N watched him from her spot on the couch, smiling at how he didn’t think twice on cleaning up after them. She was pretty sure that’s how her dream started too, but then it led to Harry’s voice whispering in her ear, asking if she’s been naughty or nice this year while they laid in bed. Y/N blames the large glass of wine. One hundred percent she blames the wine.

There wasn’t a more perfect day in the year, Y/N was sure of it, as she sat on a bench in Central Park. It was t-minus three weeks before Christmas Day and she had just gotten off work. The sun was slowly setting in the horizon as she stared at the sparkling snow that covered the ground and trees around her.

“Y/N?”

She turns her gaze away from the skating rink in the distance to see who had called out her name. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees Harry a few feet away. He’s dressed in a long dark coat that reaches to his knees, one which was exposed from a rip in his loose fitting jeans. With his outfit he wore a pair of chelsea boots upon his feet that trudged through the snow. Y/N noticed that he was bundled up with a grey scarf around his neck and a matching beanie upon his head too. She liked how his hair flipped up at the ends, sticking out of the beanie.

It has been almost a week since their pizza night together, and thankfully, those wine induced dreams had stopped after that one night, which to be fair were rather innocent compared to some other dreams she had thanks to too much tequila - regardless, it’s making it much less awkward to face him now.

“Hey,” she greets him as she meets his eyes once more. Harry stops by the bench, motioning at the open space to her left.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asks. Y/N shakes her head and moves to her right just a bit to make more room for him. “Was going for a stroll, thought I was imagining you sitting here by yourself to be honest.” Harry states.

“New York City can seem rather small some days,” Y/N says with a smile.

“Some days, yeah,” Harry nods. “What brings you out to this lonesome bench in Central Park?” Harry asks, looking out at the scenery before them.

“This,” Y/N answers with a hand out to the park.

“It's rather pretty.”

“Very, and calming. And after my day at the office today, I desperately needed to just sit here by myself and disconnect from the world for a moment.”

“Oh,'' Harry says, bringing Y/N’s gaze away from the couple holding hands across the pond and to him instead. “I'm- I'm sorry if I barged in. I just thought it’d be weird if I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay,” Y/N assures him. “I’ve been out here for a good while now.” As if her body realizes at the same time, she shivers beside Harry.

“Did you want to head home?”

“Not particularly,” Y/N hums. Her eyes falling back to the sights before her. The sky is becoming a soft hue of pinks and oranges before their eyes. It warms her heart despite her entire body is cold.

“How about a cup of hot cocoa?” Harry suggests as he sees the cart serving hot drinks just to their right. An older couple and, what seems to be, their grandchildren are being served steaming cups and candy canes too. That seems like something Y/N would like, Harry thinks as he stands from the bench. He's about to offer his hand but thinks twice about it, sticking both his hands into his coat pockets before he can make a fool of himself. “My treat,” Harry adds with a smile.

“I would love that,” Y/N beams while standing from the bench and falling into step with him.

Harry orders for the two of them as they step up to the small cart. Y/N discreetly takes out her phone and opens her Instagram app, swiping to the right to open her camera before she’s bombarded with notifications. She holds down on her screen to begin filming her pointed Versace boots that she had been gifted from work this winter; they had become a staple as the weather grew colder and the snow kept coming down since they had the thickest heel of all the shoes in her closet. Holding the phone up, she catches half of Harry’s body as she films the hot chocolate cart. His back is to the camera, his large coat and beanie covering any angle she did get of him so she’s not afraid to post the story after adding a quick filter to it and typing ‘pro tip: always get a hot chocolate when you’re feeling chilly in central park’ tagging her location as well before hitting post to her story and feeding her nearly five hundred thousand followers with some content for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly as Harry hands her a to-go cup without a lid since there’s an abundance of whipped cream on top. Her smile turns into a grin as he also reveals he bought her a candy cane. She gasps and is quick to unwrap it and stick it into her mouth.

“Woah, you’re like a toddler itching for a sugar rush, huh?” Harry teases as they begin walking along the path and away from the cart.

“Candy canes are my weakness,” Y/N states as she pushes it to the left side of her mouth in order to talk more clearly.

“Good to know,” Harry smiles over the rim of his cup before opening his mouth and licking off some of the whipped cream. Y/N has to look away as she’s brought back to her dream.

Shaking her head slightly, she brings her phone back up to her face and it unlocks for her. Since it’s still open on the Instagram camera, she holds out her heaping cup of whipped cream and attempts to take a picture as they walk. The first two turn out blurry, then she stops walking, in hopes it’ll turn out nice before Harry can notice she stopped. Only it doesn’t of course, so she ends up furrowing her brows and sucks harder on the candy cane in her mouth before trying three more times to take the perfect snap.

Suddenly, Harry’s hand is in her shot, a blur over her whipped cream. She gasps and looks up to see his forefinger in his mouth, obviously licking off the bit of whipped cream he managed to steal. She’s surprised he did it, and she can tell he is a bit too, but then she huffs out a short chuckle while her mouth is still agape, which makes Harry grin. He doesn’t think twice as he reaches out to swipes his finger over the sweet cream again.

“Stop stealing my whipped cream!” Y/N glares at Harry as he licks his finger clean once more.

“It’s gonna melt anyways, you're taking so bloody long to drink any of it.”

“I'm busy enjoying my candy cane, jeez,” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes the candy out of her mouth, having forgotten about the picture, her phone screen turns blank. Harry shrugs and reaches forward again to steal more. Y/N is faster this time, and moves her cup away from him while bringing her candy cane up and pointing towards him. “Do it again and I'll stab you,” She warns. Harry throws his free hand up in surrender, but both of his cheeks have those deep dimples showing. I’m beginning to really like those dimples, Y/N thinks.

“You get rather hostile over your holiday treats, hm?” Harry questions, raising a brow before slowly retreating his hand to hold his own hot chocolate with his other. He brings the cup to his mouth with both hands and takes a sip.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” Y/N mutters, looking down at her own cup and notices that the whipped cream is nearly gone now. Suppose Harry was right, she missed her chance to enjoy the extra sweetness.

She takes a few sips as they continue to walk together through Central Park. The sky is beautiful as the sunset is in its full glory with dreamy pinks and purples littering the skies. Y/N debates taking a photo but decides against it as she slips her phone into her pocket. Just as she’s about to return the candy cane back to her mouth, she glances over at Harry and notices just as he brings down his own hot chocolate from his mouth that he’s made a bit of a mess.

She chuckles before saying, “you’ve got a little,” Y/N points to her upper lip, “uh, a whipped cream moustache.” She giggles as Harry pokes the tip of his tongue out and swipes it over his top lip. Y/N chuckles some more and offers him her napkin.

“Thanks,” Harry says before wiping it across his mouth, looking back to her to ask, “did I get it all?”

Y/N finds herself staring at Harry for a few moments longer than it would take to give a simple answer if his face was clean or not. She’s never felt so comfortable around someone before, not even her childhood friends or Sammy honestly. There’s this ease around Harry the few times they’ve been around one another, and it makes her heart swell up in her chest. She rolls her lips into her mouth and inhales deeply through her nose, breaking her gaze away from his face and to the ground. In order to not seem weird or awkward, she looks back up and finds his eyes on her while she nods her head.

“Yeah, you’re good,” she tells him. They start their walk through Central Park once more, heading towards home at a slow pace. Y/N has her candy cane back in her mouth, alternating between it and her hot chocolate before it got too cold. She could live off them both one hundred percent; two of the best things ever invented.

“So, tell me about your day,” Harry says, bringing Y/N out of her own thoughts and meeting his gaze again.

“It was a pretty good day, I guess,” she sighs, “we just have a lot of clients that like to do last minute shopping during the holidays and have some pretty crazy demands, but we want to deliver for them so we bend over backwards to do so.”

“I’m sure that can cause you to be rather exhausted then, yeah?”

“Very,” Y/N nods, “but I’m sure your day was much more interesting than mine, so tell me what kind of songs you wrote today?” Y/N asks with a smile.

Harry chuckles and lets Y/N lead the way to their left on the path home, he wasn’t the most confident with getting around sometimes since he usually stuck to the few places in the city that he was familiar with. While he has learned that Y/N is a New York City Native, he trusts her way direction over his, that’s for sure. He thinks back on what he had done today, including a quick run on the treadmill in the gym in their building that ended sooner than he thought as he got a burst of lyrical inspiration out of nowhere.

“I was in my apartment for most of the morning and a bit of the afternoon, then got in a bit of a rut after writing a new song about love, of course. Then I decided I needed to get out of the house and hope for some inspiration from people watching, which I have done a lot since living here,” Harry explains. Y/N takes a big gulp of her nearly cold drink, leaning to her left to get to the garbage they are passing in order to throw out the empty cup. Harry takes the chance to throw his empty cup out too.

“Do you always write about love?” Y/N asks, not thinking twice if it may be a bit too personal of a question. Harry is taken back at first by how that’s all she got from what he had said, but he only clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets now that they are free.

“Mostly, yeah,” he nods, “most relatable thing in life, I suppose.”

“Sometimes, I guess it can be,” Y/N agrees and goes back to sucking on her candy cane. She wonders how many times he’s been in love? How many times has she really been in love? Y/N sighs internally and focuses on her steps, avoiding a puddle by having to step closer to Harry. She sniffles from the cold at the same time and is hit with Harry’s scent - lavender, as it always seems to be how he smells. She still thinks it’s lovely.

The two of them make more casual conversation on their fifteen minute walk home through the busy streets. Harry tells her about an elderly couple he had seen just before seeing her, maybe in their 80s, and looking more in love than he’s ever seen before. He wrote a few things about how they looked before going on his way. Y/N tells him about how her grandparents used to go on walks through the park when she was younger, which then brings them into the topic of grandparents in general. Harry tells her about how his grandpa refuses to retire and how his grandma ends up bugging his mom because of how lonely she is. Y/N is smiling the whole time, loving how he must feel comfortable around her too as he’s able to talk about his family like this. Y/N also yawns many times in their short walk. She’s tempted to invite Harry into her apartment for some wine and pizza again but decides against it and simply gives him a smile and soft goodbye at her door, deciding to get into her night routine earlier than normal due to how she can’t stop yawning.

After hanging up her coat, double checking her door was locked, and slipping out of her boots, Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket to check out what text she missed while on her walk home. She liked how she wanted to feel so present around Harry, having no want to look at her phone but instead being more interested in his little stories about his grandparents. Her face ID unlocks as she looks at the screen. It’s still on the photo she last tried to take for her Instagram. Harry’s hand was a bit of a blur as he stole her whipped cream off the top of her hot chocolate. There was no way to not know it was Harry’s hand, though, his rings being so unique and noticeable in the photo as well - her favourite being his initials wrapped around his fingers in gold. Some would think it’s maybe a bit narcissistic, but Y/N thought it looked good and really there’s no harm in being a narcissist sometimes right?

Y/N saves the photo but doesn’t post it, deciding to simply keep it for herself instead of letting her many followers see into a small yet sweet moment between her and her newest friend. She could call him that right? They were friends? Y/N did hope that Harry thought of her as a new friend too because she was enjoying this time with him a lot, maybe even a little too much.

It had been another day spent at the cafe down the street for Harry. Marking only one last day off till his final studio time this year, he was itching to get to work in a couple days and see his mates too. Over the almost two weeks, he’s written more than he had expected himself to and he knew he could thank a certain new neighbour, or I guess, a new friend, Harry thinks to himself as he turns towards his apartment building. There was no denying the feeling he got around Y/N. He wanted to become more than friends, eventually, no rush of course - but he couldn’t ignore the feeling he got around her; the butterflies and heart racing nearly every moment together. And he couldn’t forget the constant smiling, which he was doing right now just thinking about her.

Harry walks up to the main doors of his apartment building and notices a man beside the main doors. Harry furrows his brows at him. He didn’t look like some strange man trying to find warmth during the beginning of the evening here in the city that had fallen to freezing temperatures as the first week of December came to an end. In fact, he had a brand new iPhone in his hand and rather expensive looking clothes keeping him warm.

“Hey, did you need inside?” Harry asks the man standing by the intercom system. The man looks up at Harry, eyes narrowing at him. He seems Harry’s age, maybe even a few years older judging by the lines around his eyes. He’s got dark eyebrows which makes Harry think he must have dark hair under the beanie he wore under the hood of his thick winter coat. Harry waits for an answer, staring back into the stranger’s brown eyes.

“Yeah, girlfriends not answering and I know she’s inside,” his voice is low and gruff, he then lifts a Starbucks hot cup up - Harry recognizes the holiday pattern anywhere now since Y/N seems to always have one on her even in quick passing in or out of the building. “Even got me to pick her up this stupid drink on my way too, her fault if it’s cold now I guess.”

“Guess so,” Harry mumbles, kind of put off by the man’s attitude. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and holds the door open for it. The man walks in without so much of a thank you. You’re welcome, Harry sarcastically thinks to himself.

They walk together to the elevator in an awkward silence. Once the doors open Harry steps up to the buttons and hits the sixth one, not bothering to ask the man what floor he needs as he steps away. The stranger gives the lit up button a brief look before he’s staring down at his phone. As the elevator moves Harry’s mind wanders off to how he’d assert himself into Y/N’s evening today. Maybe he could make her dinner, then ask if she’d like to walk over to Central Park after because he knows how much she enjoys it there, and when they decide to take a break from walking and find a bench he’d finally get the nerve to make a move - maybe reach for her hand during the walk even. One thing was for sure, he liked Y/N and he needed to buck up and do something about it.

He’s still deep in thought about Y/N when the elevator doors open. The man he let into the building steps out first without even glance at Harry. Typical New Yorker, he thinks. Harry finds himself looking at where Y/N’s apartment door is over the man's shoulder as they walk down the hall, he’s debating just walking right up and asking her to hang out right away. But then the man stops in front of the door that reads 602 - Y/N’s door.

Y/N hears the knock on her front door and blinks rapidly at her laptop screen, unfocusing from her long email that she was to send to her boss, Amanda, within the hour with an update on how the first week of December had gone. She glances at the time and sees it’s nearly four in the afternoon. Took him long enough, she thinks while rolling her eyes and standing from the couch. Just as she’s a few steps away there’s another knock on the door. She sighs and unlocks it, quickly throwing the door open to reveal Mark standing on the other side.

“You are home,” he says, that attitude she knows so well is thick in his voice already. Y/N opens her mouth, about to sass him back, but then she notices a certain tall figure with a mess of brown hair walking behind Mark.

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out, hoping he didn’t even hear it honestly. But he slows his steps and gives her a tight lipped smile once facing her. It’s one she was not familiar with and makes her stomach feel as though it was full of rocks.

“Hey,” he says with a small three finger wave.

“You know this guy?” Mark, her boyfriend, questions. Bringing her eyes from Harry’s green ones and to his brown ones instead. “He was nice enough to let me into this place since you were too busy,” he states.

Y/N tucks her lips into her mouth and looks away from Mark and back to Harry. She knows he’s questioning everything by the look in his eyes. She tried. Well, maybe not hard enough, but she wanted to tell him about Mark, even just casually and quickly. Y/N didn’t intend to give Harry any sort of mixed signals during their times together, she really was just being polite and ended up enjoying being around him so much that she thought there was no harm in making a new friend. But she’d be an idiot to try and deny she felt something more than friendship with Harry.

“Yeah, uh,” she clears her throat and waves a hand between the two young men, “Mark, this is Harry my uh, my neighbour. Harry this is Mark, my boyfriend.”

Well shit, that’s not ideal, Harry thinks as he looks into Y/N’s eyes and prays he heard her wrong. But he knows he didn’t. So, he just takes a deep breath and forces a smile to stay on his face while holding a hand out to Mark, even though it hurt him to be polite to the guy that was dating the girl he’s been crushing on for nearly two weeks now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry says as Mark grasps his hand and shakes it lazily. Shit handshake, he thinks. “I would love to stay and chat but I’ve got some work to get to,” he says quickly after taking his hand out of Mark’s and backing away from the situation towards his own apartment.

Y/N opens her mouth, but the words don’t come out. She just watches as Harry turns on his heels and his posture hunches as he gets to his door and tries to unlock it quickly. Mark is suddenly pushing past Y/N, saying something but she’s too focused remembering the look on Harry’s face just moments ago. She steps back into her apartment and doesn’t look over to where Harry is shutting his own door before closing her own gently.

Really fucked this up didn’t you, Y/N? She thinks as she turns the lock on her door and listens to Mark complain about his day while flinging his belongings around her living room. What is she going to do? What is she going to say? If Harry ever talks to her again, that is. She sighs and closes her eyes before making her way towards where her boyfriend was lounging on her couch, giving him a small smile as he opened his arms for her to sit with him.

“I did miss you these past few weeks while I was away,” Mark says, planting a quick kiss to her hair as she leans into his body - praying he doesn’t question why her heart is beating so fast. She’s sure he wouldn’t enjoy knowing it’s because of her growing feelings for her new neighbour, and seeing the realization in Harry’s face at the fact she wasn’t single kind of hurt to see.

“Missed you too,” she mumbles, lying. Y/N hadn’t thought about her boyfriend all that much these past, almost, three weeks that he was away for a business trip.

“Do much without me?” Mark asks.

Y/N shakes her head, “no, not much at all,” her soft voice replies while she begins to zone out on the wall that was between her and Harry’s apartments, noticing how it made her feel more separated from him now more than ever.

>> part two <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #boyfriend!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #1dff #cstsyl

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tpwkjerii · 3 years

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as you wish | 1

your one true love was lost in a pirate attack five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)

pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader

warnings: fluff and angst, reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, death (no main character), kidnapping, choking (nonsexual), mentions of murder

genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: first (and def not the last) seokjin fic!! loosely inspired by The Princess Bride, but doesn’t totally follow the plot! jin isn’t in this first part much but he will be a lot in the rest ;)) this part is on the shorter side but the rest will be longer!

next | m.list

There was once a time where your life was wonderfully simple, and with blissful simplicity came peace and harmony.

Before your father fell ill and passed away, you spent most of your days on the family farm. Every morning followed the same routine: wake up, get ready, prepare breakfast, and summon Seokjin for work. You remember Seokjin with a fond smile; he was your farm boy and, if you were being completely honest, the only man you ever truly loved.

In the beginning, you and Seokjin had a very average relationship. You were merely the daughter of his employer, and he was just the farm boy your father hired since he needed more help after your mother passed away. During the first few weeks, you hardly saw Seokjin as you favored spending your time alone in your room while you mourned the loss of your mother.

However, when the months grew warmer, you found yourself spending more and more time outside. You easily gravitated towards Seokjin, who had a smile that brightened everything within a ten mile radius and told jokes that always lifted your spirits. You and Seokjin quickly fell into a comfortable routine and dynamic together. Whenever you called him, he was there, and he did whatever you needed, whether that was fetching the bread to providing a shoulder to cry on, with a smile and three words in response: “As you wish.”

Now, as you sat in your new room in the country’s castle, you realized you would do anything to hear Seokjin’s “as you wish” just once again. Unfortunately, that was impossible.

Seokjin died two years ago in a pirating accident. What was supposed to be a simple visit to his parents across the sea ended with the loss of his life and all others on the ship. The news hit you heavily, and once again you found yourself holed in your room; although this time there was no Seokjin to lift your spirits and make everything feel alright again.

You still remember the last conversation you shared with him, and how he told you that he would return with “a gift that would make you happy for years to come.” That very conversation was when you discovered he loved you, and was also when you first told him that you loved him.

Unfortunately, you didn’t expect that the first time you told him “I love you” would also be the last.

You wondered how different your life would be if Seokjin hadn’t boarded the ship that day. Would he live with you on the farm? Would you have moved overseas to stay with his parents? There were several potential scenarios, but you knew one thing was sure: if Seokjin was still with you, there was no way you would be trapped in this suffocating castle like you were now.

You sighed as the maids knocked on your door for the third time.

“Princess Y/N, please let us in. The ceremony is to start soon and the King is awaiting your arrival,” they pleaded, and you willed your anger away as you knew that the maids were only trying to do their job and your reluctance would only get them in trouble.

With a sigh, you stood from your seat by the window and moved to unlock the large doors. Instantly, the maids darted in, pushing you into the chair in front of the vanity and attacking your face and hair with brushes and creams.

You remained silent as they worked, still unaccustomed to your sudden lifestyle change. Your quaint home and expansive farm turned into a stone castle with guards on every corner and maids ready to cater to your every need. These days, all you wished for was time alone, and the only time you really had that was when you went for a ride on your horse.

After a dreadful announcement ceremony where you stood before the people as their new princess and soon-to-be queen like a doll for sale, you rushed out of your formal gown into a much simpler dress more suited for riding. Without even saying a word to Prince Donghae, the man who forced you into your current arrangement, you ran out of the castle to the stables.

In lightning speed, you unchained your faithful horse and hopped on top of her. Admiring the beautiful sheen of her smooth black coat, you lightly kicked her side, a gesture to take off. Luna, your horse, took you along your usual course along the river at the edge of the kingdom. The serenity at the outskirts of the kingdom reminded you of your days at the farm, and the quiet allowed you to ignore reality and reminisce the past.

You felt the wind in your hair as you rode through the woods and wished that you felt this free every day. Ever since you arrived at the castle three weeks ago, your days were often occupied with various unenjoyable tasks. As someone who grew up on a farm, you were very much out of your league at the palace, and the court royals made sure to remind you of that every chance they could.

“How can the future Queen of this kingdom be this stupid?” they would mock you and force loud laughter out of their throats. You knew you weren’t unintelligent just because you didn’t know the rules of court (since you didn’t grow up in it like many of the others), but you bit your tongue back each time they ridiculed you — the commanding presence of the Prince always held you back from defending yourself.

Prince Donghae was not a kind ruler. Those rumors you heard around your small village were confirmed when he almost killed you the first night you arrived at the castle.

“Anything you do out of line embarrasses me,” Prince Donghae told you the first night you arrived after you caused a scene while being escorted to your new room. “You will not talk back in this castle, do you understand me?” he asked, his voice deep and threatening.

You had no choice but to agree as his grip around your throat tightened. You nodded frantically as you choked for air, your eyes tearing and your hands shaking on top of his. He smirked in satisfaction at your struggle and dropped you to the ground before walking away, leaving your struggling body alone on the cold stone floors.

Ever since that day, you did your best to avoid the Prince. You attended court when needed, putting up with the officials’ relentless bullying, and spent the rest of your time in your room or outside riding. Now more than ever, you wish Seokjin was here to comfort you.

Luna slowed as you reached the river, her pace slowing to a light tread along the banks of the large river. You admired the scenery; a few flowers were beginning to bloom and the river waters were crashing gently along the bank. Everything looked like it did yesterday, except for the small ship and three men that were just ahead of you.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as one of them gestured for you as if he knew you personally. Considering that you didn’t know many people, and that his face was completely new to you, you doubted that was the situation at hand. Your horse slowed down as you neared them, allowing you to get a good look at the three men.

They all looked young, potentially around your age or even younger, and were dressed like commoners. One of them had black hair that fell messily against his forehead and ended just on top of his eyes. He had strong and sharp facial features that you’d never seen before. The man standing next to him was equally beautiful; his bright red hair contrasted beautifully against his tan skin and drew attention to his pink lips and fox-like eyes. The last man matched the other twos’ beauty — he had blond hair that accentuated his sweet eyes and plump lips.

“Do you need assistance?” you asked as you finally reached the three men, hopping off your horse

The blond one stepped forward first, a thankful grin on his face. “We are poor, but lost performers. Is there a village near here?”

You frowned and shook your head apologetically. “No, I’m afraid that there’s nothing nearby for at least a mile.”

His grin quickly flipped from friendly and grateful to sly and sinister. “Then there will be no one nearby to hear you scream,” he stated, nodding to the dark-haired man next to him.

Your face dropped in confusion, and you were barely able to scream before the dark-haired man pulled you off your horse and into his strong arms. He covered your mouth with one hand and used the other to touch a spot on your neck. You instantly felt yourself lose consciousness; the world grew dark as your eyes slowly closed, and the last thing you heard was the cry of your horse as it trotted away.

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crescentsteel · 4 years

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To All the Boys I’ve Loved - The Popular Guy (1)

route: Tooru Oikawa genre: fluff wc: 3.4k

This is a collab from our server @babythotshq.

Experience other routes here.

Route masterlist.

For the last time, he took in the sight of the volleyball gym. This is the last day he’ll ever step foot in one again. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the place while reliving the memories he gained for the last three years. Training, wins, and losses – glory and bitterness, he recalls them all with no regret.

Yet, he found it best to leave the sport behind.

After having his fill, he turned around and found a girl waiting for him. At first glance, it looks like she’s going to confess. She had the look — blushing cheeks, starstruck eyes, and a letter, only it was not just one letter. She was holding one too many envelopes.

“Um. Oikawa-san?”

He smiles, his signature one when greeting his fans, “Yes?”

She hands him a brown envelope that has ‘Oikawa’ written on it. He usually knows how to react to letters given to him. He’d be ‘happy and excited’ to receive them, but something tells him that this is not a usual letter.

“It’s not from me, but uhh, can I have a photo with you?” Her voice was a pitch higher as she voiced out her request.

“Of course.”

She took out her phone with excited hands and they both posed with peace signs. Before she gives him the envelope, she hurriedly gets a pen and scribbles something on the envelope. After she hands it to him, she bows and walks away.

He usually does not bother with fan letters these days. They say the same things anyways, just written differently. Yet, he has a strong feeling that he must read this letter. For the first time in a long time, he’s thrilled to open a fan letter.

When he gets home, he plops himself on his futon and carefully opens the envelope.

Hey,

I know this is weird since we’ve never talked except for that night but hear me out. I kind of like you, not in the sense where i know everything there's to know about you but in a way where if I see you at random times of the day, you just kinda lift my mood…

Maybe it's just because I find you inspiring?

You were kind of an all around guy, super nice, with a fun personality to the boot. As much as I liked you, I envied you too. How could you make everything look so easy? As an overachiever who grew up burning her candles every damn night, you made it all look effortless and to add it all up, you didn’t even brag! How annoying you are.

What’s even more annoying is that I can see your profile on magazine spreads and ads as if seeing your handsome face in school wasn’t enough.

I hate how it seems like something you’d do, yet at the same time, something you wouldn’t. Get what I mean? I thought your passion was for Volleyball, leaving modeling just as a hobby, but you do that exceptionally well too.

Indeed you were out of reach and definitely on another level.

Yet that night when I first got to talk to you on the farewell dance, you weren’t on another level. You were just you and it made me realize that maybe I should take a page off your book, “It’s all about a leap of faith, Y/N.” you said.

A leap of faith. Such words from a guy I’ve been crushing on wasn’t something I’d expect. I always thought you played safe, stayed behind safety bars but when I saw that dangerous glint in your eyes, I realized, you never did.

You were always like that, people were just so caught up with the idea of the model/volleyball player with good grades that they never saw past that. They don’t think about the devotion and commitment you must’ve poured to be good at everything you do.

I know I won’t be seeing you again and it’s kind of sad to be honest since you kind of brighten up my day but I’ll remember you, especially those words. Probably even buy a signed poster of you someday.

Take care always,

Y/N

Oikawa’s eyes remain at the signature of the letter with surprise and amusement. Y/N? The awkward, timid girl from the dance? He reads the letter once again just to make sure he’s read it right.

He knows how popular he is, both in and out of school. He’s always approached by random people, mostly girls. Those who greet him and ask for pictures on the streets he immediately forgets. But the students, he somehow can remember their faces, especially when he sees them frequently ogling him at school. Being the captain of the volleyball team while working as a model meant having fans cheer for him on the sides. He doesn’t mind of course. He’s used to it. He knows how to smile for them, talk to them, make them like him even more.

By the time graduation was just around the corner, the faces of his fans at school were already familiar to him. So when you talked to him at the night of the dance, he had question marks looming on top of his head. Prior to that night, he had no idea who you are. He hasn’t seen you around. He just knew you were in the same year with him because it was the farewell dance for the seniors.

That whole night was tiring. If it wasn’t the girls asking him to dance, it would be students asking to take selfies and/or asking for his number. He’s used to the adoration and he loves it, revels on it even. But that night was on another level. They didn’t care about his personal space anymore. The dance was their perfect excuse to hog him.

So when he had the chance, he escaped from the place and took refuge in a restricted area. The dance took place only in the school grounds, so they had closed off certain rooms for equipment storage and preparation materials for the party. He snuck into one of the rooms. He didn’t bother turning on the lights since he did not want anyone noticing that someone might be there.

He took a seat near the windows and looked at the main grounds from that room. The bonfire was lit in the middle of the place while students frolic around, having the time of their senior year.

He’s always at the center of everything he’s involved with and it was fucking awesome. But sometimes, just sometimes, it gets a little bit too rowdy. Once in a while, It’s nice to sit out like he was doing now and watch from the sidelines as students like him have their moments like this.

The door suddenly opened, much to his dismay. Was he followed? He made sure he wasn’t. He’s a bit ticked off. Some fans really don’t know when to quit. Maybe he’s been too generous to them.

He heard someone trying to flick open the lights, but the room still remained dark.

“Huh? The lights aren’t working?” The stranger said. He stayed in his place, hoping that he wouldn’t get noticed and be left alone. Although, the chances of that happening is really slim even though he knows that only the silhouette of his back can be seen from the way he was facing the light of the bonfire.

Like he predicted, you notice him not long after. But what came out of you wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Hey! Students are not allowed here. Go back to the grounds.”

He turns around from his seat to look at you. You squint at him, trying to make out his face that was hidden by shadows. But he sees you, how you walked slowly to him so you can identify who he was and how your face contorted from strict to horrified.

That’s a first.

Even though you didn’t know it was him, you could at least be glad that it was indeed him.

As you’re closer now, he confirmed that you weren’t one of them. You didn’t follow him. You found him.

“O-Oikawa san?!”

He executes his ever pleasant smile. “Hi! Do you mind if I stay for just a few more minutes?” Surely, you can give him that. You do know him after all. “Um, well... Students shouldn’t be here.” You responded hesitantly.

He wanted to applaud you for refusing. It’s been a while since someone denied him of a request, especially a girl. Nothing he could do about it though. He’d rather just find another hiding place instead of convincing you.

He stands up and heads for the door when you suddenly block his way and wave your hands frantically. “Wait wait. Uhh. Err.” You look around as you try to search for the words to say. “Before you leave. Can I ask you something?” Your face is flushed red as you put your hands together and fiddle with your thumbs, obviously nervous about what you were going to say.

“How do you do it?”

His brows knit together in confusion.

You must have realized how vague that sounded since you spoke again. “I mean, how are you so good at everything?” The admiration in your eyes wasn’t like the one he sees from everyone else. It was one that showed respect, as if you recognize the hard work he’s put in everything he does. And for once, it felt like someone perceived him as an actual human being.

“What’s your name again?”

“I-I’m y/n l/n!.” You said a bit too loud with a shaking voice. It was funny.

You must be part of the farewell dance committee since you seemed like you were about to get something from the room for the event. You’re also wearing the school uniform, unlike everybody else who’s dolled up. What a waste. You’re kinda cute.

You’re at enough distance for his arms to reach you and pull you closer. He grabs your waist with his left hand and holds your hand with his right, getting you in a dance position. Your eyes widen. The fluster in your cheeks goes a shade deeper. Your whole body becomes rigid while your hands tremble at his touch. He can literally see your chest rise up and down from breathing too heavily. He almost wants to laugh at your reaction.

“Oikawa-san?! What’re you doing?” you whisper in a panicked voice.

He really wasn’t sure, but he felt like teasing you. “We’re still part of the farewell dance, yeah? Indulge me and I’ll indulge you.”

He starts swaying slowly. You follow clumsily with that look of uncertainty and nervousness still transparent in your whole face. He wonders what’s going on in your mind. A lot of others had desperately asked him to dance with them, which he all declined because accepting one invitation meant accepting all of the others.

But within the small confines of this dark room, he can do as he pleases without any regard to mindful eyes.

“Why aren’t you looking at me though?” You grimace at his question. “I’m not used to being this close to good-looking people.” You bluntly said, your expression is still of discomfort. You really are interesting despite the aloofness you show him.

Still, you moved with him to the faint rhythm of the music outside.

“How I do it, you ask?”

That’s when you meet his gaze, your eyes curious and attentive to the next thing he’s about to say. Your whole body loosens up, as if you forgot that he was holding you.

“It’s all about a leap of faith.” He was awaiting the look of puzzlement in your eyes. He knew how obscure his answer was.

But it didn’t come. Your eyes retained the same inquisitiveness they held before.

“How can you sound so sure about something uncertain?”

Smart girl. You clearly understood what he meant. Maybe he can give you a real answer, one that he hasn’t said in any interview for it showed a dark side of him that doesn’t sit well with his image.

“Hmmm. Between you and me, y/n, when I hit something,” he dips his head just a few inches from your ear.

“I hit it.. until it breaks.”

He felt you shiver at his words. Then he let you go and patted your head while you were frozen in place.

“Nice to meet you,” he said while exiting the dark room.

After that dance, he never saw you again. He didn’t think much of it. If he’d be honest, it’s like it never happened. There were no traces, no witnesses, only you two in the dimness of that enclosed room. The exchange you had was just as brief as well.

But your letter, it ties up with what little words were said between the two of you. The admiration is just the surface of it. Beneath that was perceptiveness, envy, and compassion. Four different things melded coherently to give a refined message of encouragement, all in the form of this letter.

He has to see you. The letter needs to be answered.

Only then he realizes that you’re both senior students who already graduated. He didn’t even see you on campus as students. How the fuck can he even find you now that he has no chance of seeing you at all?

He quickly gets the envelope to see anything that might be a clue to how he can find you.

And there it was. A number written hurriedly at the edge of the envelope with a note that said ‘call me’.

The corner of his lips shoot up. He’s a hundred percent it wasn’t your number. It couldn’t be you based on how refined you wrote that letter.

It was the girl from earlier, but he doesn’t mind. At least you’re traceable now.

—

He was able to get your number from your sister in exchange for a video greeting. Unfortunately, your sister was texting non-stop so he had to block her number after he got what he wanted.

He didn’t text you yet. First, he wanted to see the university you decided to go to. It was one piece of information he managed to extract from your sister.

He’ll take a look around first. He wanted to see what uni life is like since he’s not going to attend one. He couldn’t tell if it was a busy day or there’s this many people on a daily basis. A few minutes of walking around and he could already hear the murmurs in the background.

‘He’s so hot.’

‘Does he go here?’

‘He looks like a celebrity’

Well, it couldn’t be helped. It was him, Tooru Oikawa. Even if they don’t know who he is, his looks attract attention.

Maybe he should’ve worn his cap and facemask. Admirers will just get in the way of seeing you. Maybe he’ll just come back later.

He’s about to dip when two girls approached him. “Hi! Are you a freshman like us?”

Too late. He should’ve left sooner. When one comes, they’ll start flocking at him right after. Since he’s already caught, it wouldn’t hurt to accommodate onlookers.

“No, sorry. I’m just visiting someone.” He replied warmly. Another girl comes his way, followed by another, and another. Yep, just like he anticipated.

“You’re looking for someone too?” One girl asked, then her friend whispered something to her. It was supposed to be a whisper but it was loud enough for him to hear. “These hot men better not be looking for the same girl. I swear I’ll lose it if they are.”

He remembers the other colored envelopes your sister was holding.

Ahh. So he was not the only one, huh? The original plan was there was no plan. He just wanted to see you again and talk about the letter. But based on what he heard, he has competitors now.

That just won’t do.

He tuned out the girly muttering and looked for a way to flee from the scene.

Among the crowd he was attracting, there you stood, paralyzed in the middle of the path with your eyes expanded in horror.

Great! He found you.

He filled his lungs with air.

“Yahoooooo! Y/N!” He waved enthusiastically at your direction which caused everyone else to look at you. Instead of acknowledging him, you took a step back, turned around, and half-ran away.

You really are funny if you honestly thought you could outrun him.

“Excuse me, ladies. That’s her I came to visit.” He hears the dejected groans but pays them no mind as he makes his way to you.

With his long strides, he didn’t really have to put as much effort in chasing as you did in running away from him. He’s impressed at your dedication though. You didn’t even dare look back. That’s good for you. At least you won’t see him right behind you already.

He wouldn’t mind following you a little bit more just to see how long you can last before you turn your head back and check where he is. But he needs to be the first recipient of the letter who gets to talk to you. He has an idea to throw off anyone who could possibly be around, waiting for their own chance to go talk to you.

He picks up the pace just a little so he can close in on you. When you are within reach, he loops an arm around you which causes you to stop dead on your tracks.

“That’s not nice of you, y/n. You heard me calling you.”

You didn’t have to look at him. He knows that you know it’s him. You gulp before facing him. A terrified look spread on your face upon seeing his, verifying that it was truly him.

You looked around nervously, assessing the situation you were in. You saw something that unnerved you, but he couldn’t tell what it was. You suddenly remove his arm, only to take his hands.

You spoke with a worried expression.

“Come with me.”

You drag him haphazardly, leading him somewhere in the university. He has no idea what’s running in your head as he lets you take him away. Though, he doesn’t mind. You’re essentially the reason why he came anyways.

You reach inside one of the buildings with less people. Still on full alert, your eyes skimmed the area before going inside one of the rooms, pulling him with you. Once inside, you let go of his hand.

Without catching your breath, you yelp at him. “Why are you here?!”

He reaches for his back pocket and takes out the brown envelope. “Cause of this.” He smiles sweetly while he waves the enclosed letter at you, then puts it back to where it came from. “Your sister’s a real gem for going out of her way to give it to me,” his statement drenched with irony.

Instead of answering him, you walked three steps away and faced the wall. You softly knock your head against the wall, looking down as you mutter, “What did I do to deserve this?” Followed by another knock, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Before you can do it the third time, he moves toward you and places his back hand where your forehead is supposed to hit again. You look at him distressfully, not removing your forehead against his hand. “Why are you here?”

“I just told you why, Y/n-chan.”

You stand up straight and sigh wearily. “I mean why even bother? I’m sure you get tons of those on a regular basis.”

You were right. Among other letters, he only read yours. Even though you didn’t intend to send the letter, he thought you’d be at least glad that he went after you. Instead, you were questioning his decision of doing so. Not once in any of your limited interactions had you agreed with him.

He really just wanted to talk to you, initially at least. But you prove to be more and more entertaining that he’s about to do something totally abrupt.

He supports his weight by leaning his elbow against the wall where his hand is. He slightly tips his head to the side as his smile veers from pleasant to haughty.

“I bothered cause I want to ask you out.”

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@sakusarights @elianetsantana @tetsujime @kweenregent @ne-kuroo @restricted-illusion @avbreyissad @kac-chowsballs @aksteldesu @justatempo @barali.k @humanitysbiggestsimp @al3xx1s @kellesvt @isentsworld @daniella-uwu @bokuakadaily @kitababie @luckypartyranchmug @melialeic @omigogames @cafetetsu @sleep3deprived @vicassa @the-writing-otaku @chibishae34 @chickennuggetthot @tsukisemi @timeturnerss @mariachiiii @spaceboitrash @dearestsuna @atsumubabe @cadenceh2o @hawkssnugget @hikari-writes @dabilove27 @isleofnajera @thathoneybee3 @tsumue @uncleirohsbobbatea @shinhiromi @solarskiesdream @greyevangeline @graykageyama @holycometz @mattsuns-prettybaby @fluffymilkbread @rogueofbullshit @turntechsquishy @tweety1501 @sunashi @stale-sandcastle @kellesvt @heykoutarou @kuroosleftkneecap

#oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa toru x reader #bbthots #bbthots collab

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uglierdaikon · 3 years

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I’ve had this one WIP sitting in my documents forever, and as hard as I’ve tried I absolutely cannot think of a direction to take it in but I really like what I have written, so I’ve decided to say “fuck it” and just post what I’ve got in here and let y’all imagine whatever ending for it you’d like. Without further ado, I present my long-deceased Witch!Nene x Demon!Hanako au:

Nene, my love. Whatever happens do not forget that you are special. You were born special. You will help so many people.

Nene couldn’t remember her mother very well. She had been so young when she died. In the furthest, foggiest corners of her mind, she could recall the long gray skirt that she clung to and hid behind when the other townspeople jeered at her. There was silvery hair like hers, and surely a face that would resemble hers. She remembered a voice that sang, a voice that stood up for her, a voice that told her, you are special. You will help so many people.

And so she did. Although people were still unkind, still jeered at her, still called her an unnatural thing, she helped them. Some learned to be kind, and those were the ones who made it feel worth it. The others… well, the others couldn’t help that they found her strange. She was strange. Witches weren’t supposed to be born—they were made, by sealing deals with demons. And yet, she’d had magic from infancy. This marked her as an oddity, and people were afraid of things they didn’t understand. The rumors that swirled around the village about her certainly didn’t help. But Nene didn’t mind. Or, at least, she told herself she didn’t mind.

There was work to be done. A farmer wanted a spell to help his cow get pregnant; the blacksmith wanted his tools bewitched to feel lighter to ease the strain on his aging back; a merchant from a nearby town had written her asking for a cure for his wife’s morning sickness. Morning sickness was simple enough—if you knew your plants well enough, you didn’t even need magic. She’d start with that.

Nene set out her pestle and mortar on her worktable, then went to her cabinet for ingredients, whispering them to herself as she searched.

“Cinnamon, dragon’s blood, rose petals… ginger.” She stopped short, carefully tucking jars of the other three ingredients in the crook of her left arm. “Have I used up all my ginger?” She shifted jars and vials and other magical odds and ends around her shelves, but there was no ginger hidden amongst them. She swore softly, set the other ingredients down on the table, and grabbed her cloak. She’d have to run out to her garden.

She stepped out her back door and into the cool night. It had been unseasonably warm as of late, but now a chill wind nipped at her nose. Still, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the scents of damp earth and autumn rot. The woods around her house seemed to thrum with gentle sounds, crickets and owls and the wind shuffling through the leaves. Nene smiled to herself, then hurried off to her garden. She knew it well enough that the dark was no impediment to her finding her ginger. She knelt carefully between other rows of plants and tugged up what she needed and a little extra, for next time.

As she stood and began to brush dirt from her dress, Nene heard a rustling that did not belong to the thrum of her woods. It was a disruption, a discordant note. She heard a twig snap not far off and nearly dropped her ginger. Her immediate thought was that she should run—people may have been coming to accept her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe there was no one in the village who would do her harm. She should run, but her legs wouldn’t move except to tremble.

“H-hello!” she called cautiously. Perhaps it was just someone lost. Or maybe it was only an animal, and she was being paranoid because some foul-tempered old woman had told her she was going to hell the day before. “Is anyone out there?”

There was a pause, and then the rustling and crunching of leaves and earth continued, louder and closer. Nene frantically tried to think of a spell—something to freeze them, or confuse them. But when a shape finally moved in the darkness, all she could do was shriek, “Don’t hurt me!” and squeeze her eyes shut.

Silence. No rustling, no movement. No attempt to seize her, or worse. Nene peeked an eye open, then the other. There was… nothing.

“Meeeooow.”

Nene jumped, then laughed. At the edge of the woods, mere feet from her garden, was a small black cat with golden eyes.

“Well, hello there,” she said, crouching down and holding her hand out to it. “You sure gave me a fright, didn’t you? Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” The cat peered at her curiously, then took slow, cautious steps forward. When Nene reached to scratch it behind the ears, it flinched away. “I suppose people aren’t very kind to you, hm? Black cats are supposed to be a curse, you know. But I’m supposed to be cursed, too, and the only sign I see of it is in my love life. So I’m not afraid of curses.” The cat stepped toward her again. It seemed to her to be trying to communicate something with its eyes, some need or question. “Are you hungry little fella? I’ve got some catnip growing here.” The cat circled behind her, and in her squatted position it was awkward to turn to try to face it.

“You shouldn’t feed strays. We’ll just keep coming back.” The voice came from directly behind her. Male. Dark. Amused, like he was laughing at her. Nene stumbled forward, whipping around to look at him once she was somewhat upright again. Where the cat should have been, there was a man dressed in fine black clothing, with choppy black hair and golden eyes. He was smiling at her, and the smile was not kind.

“You—you—how, I—”

His smile widened.

“Hello there, little witch,” he said. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He looked her over like an animal eyeing its dinner. Nene pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“Wh-who are you? What do you want?” she managed to stammer. She tried to think of a spell, something to confuse him, or send him away. She didn’t have it in her to hurt someone, but she couldn’t expect the same of him. They were alone here by the woods, a long way from any neighbors that might care enough to help her.

The man’s smile quickly morphed into a pout, and his eyebrows knit together. He stepped closer and leaned forward to peer at her. Nene made an odd squeaking sound and stepped back.

“You haven’t been expecting me?” he asked. Before Nene could say anything, or think further about what to do, he reached out and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Hm. You really don’t know who I am.”

“Y-yes, that would be why I asked,” she said, jerking her head to break free of his grip. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and began to circle her. “You do know what I am though, don’t you?”

She didn’t. She had been too shocked, too frightened to see him as anything but some frightening man in her garden, possibly a warlock. But now that he asked, she didn’t know how she hadn’t sensed it, the power radiating off of him. The magic.

“You’re a demon,” she said, her voice very audible. There was nothing she could do. No defense. What was her magic against a creature like him?

The man gave her a small nod.

“Tell me then, little witch,” he said. “How did you get your powers?”

“I was born with them,” she said. Her voice was stronger—she’d had enough of that line of questioning over the years. He smiled at her, and she managed the courage to hold his gaze. She hoped he couldn’t tell that under her dress, her knees were shaking.

“Were you now?” he said. “Oh, I do think I like you.”

As he passed again on her left, he ghosted a hand through her long hair, watching as it faded from silver to green between his fingertips. The look in his eyes had changed into something less playful, just for a moment, and it did funny things to Nene’s already racing heart. Finally, he came to a stop in front of her again. The too-wide smile had reappeared.

“I have a proposal for you,” he said. “I came tonight to claim something, but I can think of a much more entertaining game. How about a wager? What I want against what you want.”

Nene narrowed her eyes.

“What do you know about what I want?” she asked. His eyes narrowed slightly, but they still held their humor.

“Oh, I can make some guesses,” he said. “I wager that in a week’s time, I will be able to tempt you into agreeing to… something. If I fail, I’ll be on my way, and I’ll never haunt your doorstep again. If I win, well. You’ll have agreed to my terms anyways.”

“I don’t want any part in your wager,” she said. She tried to sound firm. Being firm with people who meant to manipulate her usually worked—it was a strategy a boy in town named Kou had taught her many years before.

He shrugged.

“Then I’ll just take what I came for and go,” he said, advancing toward her. Nene quickly scrambled back.

“No!” she cried. She couldn’t imagine what horrible thing a demon could want to demand from her. “…Just a week? And once you fail, you’ll go.”

He chuckled.

“At once,” he said. “If I fail.”

Nene scraped together the last of her courage and nodded. He would leave. She would lose nothing to him, face no harm whatsoever, as long as she simply said no to anything he might offer her. He would be gone.

“Then it’s a deal.”

His smile grew wider. Before she could react, he had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest.

“Do you know how demons usually seal their deals, little witch?” he asked, putting a hand under her chin to tilt her face up towards him. His gold eyes were hooded, locked onto her lips. Nene couldn’t form words, couldn’t form thoughts, as he slowly leaned in and—

“No!” she cried, turning her face away. He stopped short. When she dared to peek at him, she saw his eyes were wide, like she’d startled him. That was a thought. Her, startling a demon. Then he laughed, and let go of her waist.

“If you insist,” he said. He took her face in two large hands, tilted it slightly downward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s sealed. We’ll begin tomorrow.” Before her eyes, he began to fade into nothingness. “Good luck, Miss Yashiro.”

#tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #hanako #yugi amane #yashiro nene #hananene #witch #demon #alternate universe #fic #snippet #i had plans for this but I don't like any of them and I can't come up with anything better #sorry for failing witchy nene like this everybody #my fic

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eleanore-delphinium · 3 years

Text

Reciprocate II (2021 version)

DISCLAIMER: Repost with additional details and edits from same title piece found in DAMIRAE ENTRIES.

But this particular one didn’t really change much as compared to the 2021 version of part 1.

Finale: Reciprocate III: The After

Reciprocate II: Damian

In a sterile white room devoid of any color and of any indication of ownership or personalization, laid a single figure on top of a white medical bed, white sheets tucked over her sternum. The room felt bright because of the color, it was also rather lonely and rather very empty—except for the pale woman with long purple hair that laid on the bed. An empty chair on her right side and bedside tables with nothing on top, on either side of her bed. Her hands laid on her sides and her eyes closed. There was no indication of movement except for her quiet breathing.

The door opened to reveal Damian Wayne in a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks and black dress shoes. Despite his neat outfit, his hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot with eyebags underneath. He looked as though he had not slept well at all—which was likely the case.

Afterall, he had not slept well since the day Raven got stabbed. There were good days and bad, now—today was a better day. He walked to the empty chair beside Raven’s right hand, his back facing the door. He sat on the chair and gazed longingly at the figure on the bed.

And he recalled what had transpired that night—the night that caused Raven’s current medical condition.

Raven had fallen and her eyes slowly fluttered close. He could tell that she was trying not to lose consciousness. Raven lifted a hand towards Damian and Garfield’s general direction making Damian wonder if she was trying to reach out to him or Garfield.

‘It had to be Garfield.’, He thought because it would not make sense if Raven was trying to reach out to him. Damian couldn’t help but feel very bitter inside. She would never choose him. She would unlikely want to hold him with her dying breath.

At this moment the creature was distracted by Tim who was on the other side, seeing this—Damian took the opportunity to run to Raven. He took note of the footsteps that followed behind him, Garfield was right behind him as they ran toward Raven.

Her raised hand was faltering and Damian felt as though his heart was about to jump out of his throat-- out of fear.

No. You cannot close your eyes. I will not allow it!

Damian ran faster towards Raven and as her hand fell to the ground, he finally reached her side. But her eyes had also closed, and Damian held his breath as he-- so very gently, held her in his arms.

“Raven! Raven!” He called to her frantically. “No. No. No. Don’t close your eyes, please come back, stay conscious!” His breathing was ragged, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Damian bit his lip and held his breath in a conscious manner, as he tried to calm himself, and think. He had to think.

“Raven! Oh god no.” Garfield stood hovering above Raven, and the next second he was reaching out to Raven. But Damian pulled her closer to him and gave Garfield the darkest and cruelest glare Garfield had ever seen. And Garfield froze, he took a deep breath and gulped down his fear.

“Gar…” Terra came running towards Garfield, and her eyes laid on Raven. “No, if-if she didn’t try to protect me—” Damian gave Terra the same glare Garfield received, making her unable to finish her thought. She froze in fear too.

“We have to stop her bleeding.” Damian absent-mindedly said, his voice cold, and as he scanned Raven’s wound, his eye twitched. Raven had a gaping hole on her chest, Damian did not want to think about it—but the situation was truly grim.

“How are you going to—” Garfield received another glare from Damian.

Damian was not asking or seeking their help to stop Raven’s bleeding, he had said what he had said to inform them only. He will deal with Raven’s injury, no one else is suitable.

Damian reached for something in his utility belt, and he pulled out three silver balls. His facial expression seemingly frozen in a cold and uncaring manner as he placed the one-inch sized ball strategically on her gaping wound. He placed one on top and two at the bottom, forming a triangle. It beeped and glowed a faint blue and from it came out a purple like foam.

Damian’s right eye twitched, his lips pressed together so much that his lips became pale and his brows drawn so closely together, that he looked like he would punch the next person who would touch him.

He had no choice. This was the only way to ‘plug’ Raven’s gaping hole. She was losing too much blood because of it.

Damian clenched his teeth even more, if that was even possible. He leaned Raven on his right arm as his hands clenched tightly. If he had not had gloves on, then anyone would be able to see how white his fist had become. His brows still tightly knit together, it looked painful to watch his brows like that.

And to Garfield and Terra, he looked like the scariest man on earth. They seemed to fear Damian more than the unbeatable monster that had stabbed Raven into this state.

Damian hated what he had to do. He hated that he had to plug Raven like this. He hated that he knew he had to put her down now. Now.

There was a moment of hesitance, but Damian bit his lip till it bled to keep his focus.

“We need to put Raven in a safe spot,” He said in a clipped manner as he picked Raven up in his arms in a princess carry, “Distract that thing and keep him far away from her.” He continued absent-mindedly as his eyes quickly analyzed the best spot to hide her away.

And at the same time, he recalled her injury. There were no organs that were damaged, that at least is a good thing. And he hoped and prayed-- at that same moment-- that Raven can survive this.

With Damian standing on his full length, Garfield snapped out from his frozen state and had begun to reach out for Raven once again.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Damian snarled in such an unsightly manner that Garfield remembered the initial fear Damian gave him. Terra did not feel the fear again because she was looking at Garfield with worry and realization. Terra missed to see Damian’s expression and his words did not register in her mind because she knew at that moment while looking at Garfield—that Raven and Garfield will always have history.

Of course, she knew of Raven and Garfield’s relationship and didn’t mind it. Raven was simply his past. Garfield told her that he loves her, and that he would never go back to Raven—if that was something Terra worried about. And he must have kept his word. But the years Raven and him shared was something that could never be erased. And emotions built up throughout those years was something that couldn’t be replaced so easily. To realize such a thing now of all places—

Damian had accidentally hit Terra as he started moving, cutting Terra’s thoughts. For a second her eyes laid on the boy wonder—and to her, she did not see a hero protecting or saving someone. She saw a man holding someone in a way that showed he was too afraid to hold any tighter in fear of losing her. A man refusing to blink, too afraid that it would be his last sight of her and that she would turn into dust any moment now. He held her in such a cautious manner—that it hurt to see him so forlorn like that.

That was something she thought she would never see in Damian Wayne. His body—every cell seemed to radiate a want to not let go of the woman in his arms. A conflict of holding her so tightly so he can remember how it feels to hold her and yet—still, he was a man of responsibility. Despite his desire to just be with her—he knew where he stands—the monster was still there.

Terra quickly turned, refusing to see Garfield’s expression—it was something she did not want to see right now.

“I will cover for you, Damian.” She told him firmly not waiting for a response and simply initiated her suggestion.

Damian sighed loudly in the white room, his forehead resting on his hands that was propped up on the bed beside Raven’s right hand. When they finally got to neutralize the enemy, the first thing Damian did was run to where Raven was. He was so afraid that when he got there, she would be cold and blue.

But she held on.

She held on.

He sighed again, as he turned his head that was resting on his right hand towards Raven.

He begged his father to help him keep her alive, and the first few months—God those were awful. When they arrived to have her healed, nothing was working. Whatever that creature was and what he did, messed with her. He begged his father to do anything—anything. Somehow, they found a way to stabilize her and close the gaping hole in her chest—of course every step was a struggle.

Seeing her with so many tubes and monitors, some advanced tech and some actual alien tech, hurt Damian in a way that a bullet shot could not compare. And he felt so helpless. It was probably the helplessness that hit him even worse than a bullet wound.

Damian Wayne—son of Batman, son of Bruce Wayne, a robin—a boy wonder—an assassin at some point, still a man seen as the heir of the Demon’s Head—felt so powerless despite all the titles and honor and glory those titles held. He still felt powerless.

He held the woman he had loved for years in his arms, and had to leave her in her injured state to defend the world of the very same creature that injured her in the first place. He left her all alone in a corner—not even knowing if she would be alive when he returned. He knew that having someone guard her would be a waste of manpower. He had to think of the bigger picture—because it is his responsibility, he couldn’t put her over that. And a small part of him hates himself for it.

He had seen her struggle to survive day after day, and night after night since then. The rejection her body faced—and his selfishness, thinking—hoping that she would survive it.

And she did.

She survived everything. And most of the tubes and monitors were finally taken away. Of course, she still had an IV drip and a monitor checking her vitals, just in case. Still, it was fifteen less tubes and monitors—and doctors and scientists.

Damian reached out for Raven’s right hand with his left, his palm resting on the back of her hand. He had gotten so used to all the tubes and monitors, that the first week without them was so unfamiliar to him.

Every time he visited her, he expected the tubes and monitors to multiply and revert back to when they couldn’t seem to cure her. Up until just a few weeks ago, he expected that they would return because she would become unstable again. But it never happened. He was so thankful it never happened. He slipped his right hand under hers, his worries just seemed like paranoia.

“Raven, won’t you wake up already?” He muttered as he had gotten used to talking to himself whenever he visited her.

“I still planned to confess to you,” He chuckled emptily “Won’t you at least let me do that?” He brought her hand to his forehead. “Let me be selfish…”

~.~.~.~.~

The door to Raven’s personal room opened, revealing Damian in his robin uniform, his mask off. He walked to her in a slightly slump manner and he took her hands on his and sighed.

“I’m sorry Raven, it appears that I can’t visit you for the unforeseeable future. Something came up.” He looked at her sleeping face sadly.

“Don’t be angry, I try to visit you every day after all, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes, but I never missed a day since you got injured.” He paused a vacant look on his face. “If you ask me, I’m pretty sure they were lenient on my lack of participation in missions recently because I looked as if I had lost a lover.” He laughed in a broken manner.

“It’s funny-- how I am reacting as if I had lost a lover—when we never really got to be together. It would be nice if you wake up—at least let me confess to you clearly. And you can put a rest to my pining.” He didn’t know why, but he felt that he had to rearrange her hair before he left and so he did.

“I will come back, I promise you.” He said as he reluctantly let go of her hand. He refused to look back as he left the room, and took his mask from his utility belt and puts it on.

~.~.~.~.~

The door opened gently again as Damian Wayne in an all-black outfit walked in. He was in his signature black turtleneck. He had on a thin black framed eyeglass on his nose and held a book on his left hand. He had gotten used to opening the door slowly and gently, out of the fear that when he opened the door she wouldn’t be there anymore.

At first, he thought that it was an unreasonable fear, but clearly it was not. He was afraid that the time he wasn’t with her, she would have long been gone. And when he comes to visit, he would be greeted with an empty bed. And he would not be able to even say his farewells.

He closed the door even more gently—because when the door is closed this time was theirs—well his. Because she was still unconscious—still very unaware of his presence.

“Hey Raven, I brought the book I last read to you—I have enough time today to read to you just a few chapters.” He said as he walked to his position beside her. He took a seat on the chair and held her right hand with his right hand. “It would be nice if you woke up soon.” He smiled grimly, the words have started becoming something he said out of habit.

Damian gave her a little recap of what he had read to her before as he held her hand. After that, he continued where he left off, holding her hand when he wasn’t flipping through pages. He read in a slow manner; his mind more aware of the fact that her hand felt so very right against his, instead of the words he was saying aloud.

~.~.~.~.~

Raven was still lying unconscious in the white room, on her white bed. Everything was quiet inside.

“Damian it’s been almost eight months!” Came a voice from outside the room.

“So, what Grayson!” Yelled back the voice of Damian Wayne. He was in an argument right outside of Raven’s room with Dick Grayson, his adopted brother—also known as Nightwing.

“Are you serious Dami?” A pause. “At least let others see her!”

“By others you mean Garfield, right?” A loud bang was heard from inside the room.

“Well—shit, yes! Why won’t you let Gar see her? He has been asking about her or where she is.”

“Don’t you dare bring Garfield to see her—don’t you dare!” A furious reply from Damian as shuffling footsteps were heard.

“Look man, I get it. I really do. But Damian, you can’t just hide her away from her teammates.” Dick said in a tone of anxiousness.

“You see her too.” Was Damian’s quiet response.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” A louder bang entered Raven’s room ending Dick’s words.

“She planned to leave anyway.” Damian said defensively. There was silence for a few seconds and a frustrated humph could be heard from outside the room.

“I—I didn’t think anyone would be able to deal with seeing her in that way—I” Damian paused. “I don’t think they’d want to see her in a coma—I thought it was for the best. I—I’m sorry Grayson, I will let them see her—but—just not Garfield, Grayson. That is all I am asking from you, just not him. He caused her enough pain.” And the door to Raven’s room opened. She still laid there asleep. Damian did not wait for Dick’s reply and he slowly closed the door behind him.

He was in a black button up polo shirt tucked into his black slacks, that was held into place by a black belt with a silver metal piece and he wore his black leather shoes. He looked tired but there was no hint of anger from what had transpired outside Raven’s bedroom.

“You must have heard our little argument, huh?” He said approaching the familiar chair he always sat on when visiting her. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.” He continued as he sat down on the chair and took her hand in his again. “Of course, I didn’t disturb your sleep, after all you're still unconscious.” A hollow chuckle soon followed.

Damian placed the back of Raven’s hand against his forehead. “You can wake up now. Scold me for being so selfish. For not allowing Garfield to visit you. In fact, for not letting anyone else visit you aside from a select few. But—mostly Garfield. I will not allow him in here too— in this space-- so why don’t you wake up and just tell me how selfish I am.” He tilted his head to look at Raven while her hand was still pressed on the temple of his head.

But as usual there was no response, he was so used to talking to himself by now. At this point, Damian was very convinced that Raven had tried to reach out for Garfield, one last time, before she fainted. And the thought was something that caused him bitterness.

Even in her near-death, Garfield was the last in her mind.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian was sitting on the same chair holding Raven’s hand. Three months have passed since Damian and Dick’s heated argument outside of Raven’s bedroom. He wore a red hoodie with black pants and black shoes. This time around, for the first time, he looked less tired since this whole ordeal happened.

“It looks like you had a lot of visitors this month too.” He glanced at the flowers on both bedside tables, pictures in frames of Raven with the team and other things. Now the room seemed to have a little bit of a personality.

“I think it’s great that you have some visitors. Though I admit, I think that eventually they will come to visit less and less, so I think you should wake up soon. Everyone misses you a lot. I think the longer you stay asleep people would forget about you. Everyone you know is a hero Raven, and even though you stay asleep—we still have to defend the people. Everyone’s priorities will shift and they would have less time to see you. And because they have started settling with your absence, for sure the visits will lessen. But I promise, I will visit you every day until you wake up.” Damian placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand and he froze.

His lips hovering over her hand. He wiped the spot he kissed her at, with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I should be asking permission. I didn’t—” He stared at the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I don’t know since when I started doing that, but I’m sorry. I overstepped.” He gently placed her hand back on the bed and stood up. “Let’s see what’s in the drawers, shall we?” He muttered to himself and surveyed every nook and cranny and objects in her room, keeping a mental inventory.

“We will be starting a new book soon. I no longer keep track of the books we’ve read.” He said after finishing his inspection of the room and went to sit back on the chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Well—I mean I keep track of the titles but no longer itemize them…” He added quietly, he used to count them but stopped at around the fifth book because it seemed like the list would continue to grow. And seeing the number rise would just be another reminder of the fact that the days waiting for Raven to wake was stretching to impossibility.

~.~.~.~.~

It was a little over a year since Raven has been in her comatose state. The room felt heavy and she stirred because of it. Her breathing a little louder—a little labored. Her eyes fluttered open—her vision a blur. She saw two figures at the foot of her bed. The taller one looking at the shorter man. The shorter one was looking at her startled—he seemed to have an odd skin color. She could almost swear it was green. Raven’s eyes started to roll back to unconsciousness.

“Dick, she’s awake!” It was a familiar voice; Raven couldn’t help but think.

“What?” Dick turned to look at Raven, her eyelids slowly closing, her labored breathing slowly quieting down.

“I saw her eyes open; I swear it!” She recognized the voice as Garfield, but knowing who it was did not give her any extra motivation to fight her sleepiness.

“What the fuck is going on here!” Another familiar voice furiously entered Raven’s faltering consciousness. She wanted to wake up—to fight the tiredness she was feeling. But it was simply too late now.

The door had banged open when Damian entered. Damian was still wearing his black outer coat, his shoes dirty as he had just arrived from outside. He had no time to freshen up to visit Raven because he found out what Dick was up to.

When his eyes laid on Garfield who was looking at Raven, he wanted to rip Garfield’s head off. Damian Wayne looked like he was going to pop a vein on his neck. He glared at Dick with such open hostility that Dick was taken aback, and Garfield beside him recalled the fear Damian instilled in him that night Raven got injured.

“Her eyes opened; I saw it!” Garfield said frantically, hoping that would ease Damian’s anger. Damian stole a glance at Raven—but she was at the same state he had last seen her in.

Comatose.

“I asked you one thing, Grayson!” He growled as he slowly stomped his way to Dick whose hands were up in a ‘I surrender’ way. Damian grabbed Dick’s coat collar and pulled him close. “One thing Grayson!” He shoved Dick and pointed at Garfield.

“Look—you can’t continue denying someone who wants to visit a friend.” Dick tried to calm his brother down as he straightened his coat.

“Friend?” Damian snorted in response.

“Look, Damian I begged Dick to bring me to her.” Garfield said and he received Damian’s angry glare.

“Get. Out.” Damian simply said, he looked as though he would kill either of them any second now. For some weird reason Garfield got a little more courage at that moment, he began to open his mouth. Dick seeing Garfield’s lips open—quickly intercepted by pulling Garfield by the arm and pulling him towards the door.

“I’m sorry little D, we will talk about it outside.” Dick said as he draggedGarfield out, giving Garfield a stern look to ensure Garfield’s silence. Garfield wasn’t happy but he understood that Dick was looking out for him.

Damian stood where he was, glaring at Raven as he waited for the door to close behind Dick and Garfield. He was stiff in his spot and his fists clenched so tightly. He was still very much angry. He stood like that for five more minutes before he tried to calm himself down. His fist unclenched and his brows unfurrow.

“So—well, stop pretending then—he's gone now—so wake up.” He demanded in a low voice as he hovered beside Raven near the chair. She did not move. And Damian laughed brokenly as he fell on his knees. He reached out for her right hand absentmindedly and rested his nose on the back of her palm.

“So, it turns out you just needed him to visit you to wake up?” Damian whispered as tears fell on her hand. “So why aren’t you awake already?” He sobbed.

It was never him—she never chose him.

~.~.~.~.~

It had been four months since Garfield had been regularly visiting Raven, and at times he would also bring Terra with him. Damian had conceded Garfield's wish to allow him visitation rights to see Raven. Damian could not stay angry at Dick for over two weeks, and the pair reconciled, despite Dick undermining Damian’s wishes. Damian understood that Dick was looking out for him.

Damian’s family was very much worried over him since Raven’s fall. He acted more detached and unapproachable. He wasn’t sleeping well and every second he could spare he was always hovering over Raven. In fact, he slept well hunched by Raven’s bedside with Raven’s hand against his hands and forehead. Damian was even unwilling to celebrate his twenty-second birthday with Raven still unconscious. And they could see the toll it was taking on Damian.

His family knew he needed a little push to try and let Raven’s state go and pushing Damian to allow Garfield entry was the way to do it. Damian needed to move on.

But here he was again, in the white room he specifically prepared for her. Her accommodations are all arranged by him, and his visits are always a constant. But the past four months were difficult, as he was also actively avoiding having to meet Garfield when Garfield was visiting Raven.

When Damian was able to take a step back from his anger at what Dick did—he knew that his family did it to distract Damian—to keep him away from lurking around Raven. He understood it was made of good intentions. Damian reached out for Raven’s hand, a habit he has come to develop long ago.

He wore a plain white shirt with jeans. His hair was not as neat as it usually was, and there were eyebags under his eyes yet again.

“But I guess I am a man who will only love one person in their lifetime.” He muttered, placing Raven’s hand against his right cheek. “I’ve come to wonder sometimes if I am unfortunate to be such a man—or to fall for you—” he studied her face; he has memorized every detail about her. How could he not when he was here, beside her so frequently.

“I’ve come to learn that loving you is not something to be regretful about. In fact, I am rather thankful for it. But you really got me pining over you, Raven.” He sighed, his eyes not capturing even the smallest of movement from Raven. “I love you.” He whispered and brushed his lips against the skin on the back of her hand.

A week and a half after, Damian paced at the foot of Raven’s bed, very much frustrated. He paused and glared at Raven, running his hands through his head, a sign of his developing anger. He stomped towards his spot as he glared at Raven again.

His hair was a mess, his eyebags had gotten darker. His clothes that was a plain black shirt with jeans had creases, very uncharacteristic of him.

“I don’t get it!” He said, containing most of his anger. “You obviously woke up the first time Garfield visited you! Tsk, as it turns out, all you need was for him to visit you-- for you to wake up. So why did you go back to sleep!” His tone louder now and he sighed to try and dispel a little of his anger. His hand at his side clenched into balls.

Damian was seething in anger, and he exhaled and inhaled in air as if he was palpitating. Finally, the anger he had dissipated. But it was replaced by raw hopelessness, anyone who would see him in such a state, would feel their hearts knot.

“You really—really got me pining over you.” Damian said as he knelt on the floor with a hunched back as he took her right hand in between his palms. “It’s funny how you pined over someone else as I pined over you—it seems that you're making me pine over you just as long as you pined over him.”

The chair he usually sat on was across the room, toppled down. A droplet of water falls in front of Damian’s right knee.

~.~.~.~.~

Two months passed just like that. Raven’s friends had long since stopped visiting her as frequently as they did the first three months. Asking them to take so much time off of their busy hero life was too much to ask for. But Damian always made time for her, and at almost a year and a half the toll of doing so had fully manifested.

He looked so tired, his eye bags are in the darkest shade it had been since the accident. He looked thinner, not scarily thin, but it was obvious he had lost some weight. His clothes were as neat as it could be. His white button up shirt crisp and so is his black slacks. His black leather shoes are very shiny. He placed a lot of effort in his appearance because even he could tell that his health has waned, and he was compensating with his clothes.

When Raven was in ICU for the first three months, he was in such a bad state. When she finally got relatively cured but was in comatose, he looked better-- more relaxed. Then a little after, he had to continue with his responsibilities, particularly as a hero and somehow, he managed. The weight he had initially lost, he had regained and now he had shed perhaps even more than he did at that time.

But now at almost a year and a half of juggling hero life, personal and family life. Being with Raven almost every day since the night she got hurt. To actively avoid Garfield while Garfield was visiting and arranging his own visits to go around Garfield’s visitation, but also keeping to his schedule and preference of seeing Raven on a very regular basis. And Raven still not waking up—Damian was quite spent.

He was sitting on his chair facing Raven’s right hand. His head propped onto his hands which were propped up on his knees. He was looking at Raven’s face blankly, dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t know how much longer he could do this.

Raven’s state was always at the forefront of his mind. And when he was on a mission, he tried to put it as a lesser priority. But when he is near to death his first thought is: If I die who will look after Raven? And so, he fights with every screaming fiber he had, even when he was in such excruciating pain. After all, he still had to see her wake up.

One would think a year and a half wasn’t really a long time—but it did not feel like it has been just over a year for Damian—it felt like he has been waiting for her to wake up for five years.

He had just realized quite recently, just exactly how much stress he had gotten due to all this. And it was taking a major toll on him. He now completely understood why his family was worried about it—about him. Hindsight after all is 20/20 and he now clearly saw exactly how concerning his state was.

There was only one solution. His eyes flickered to Raven—he had not noticed that his gaze had drifted off of her and was surprised when his eyes laid on her again. He sighed and suddenly stood up, and picked up a lock of her hair.

“Raven, your hair has grown quite a bit—it's already at waist length. I thought of having it cut—but I think that should be your decision.” He placed it back down. “If you don’t wake up any time soon—I’m afraid I would have to let you go.” He mumbled to himself as he turned around to lean on the bed and gaze at the ceiling blankly.

Two weeks after, Damian was back in her room, looking even worse. This time he was just standing beside Raven with a very empty gaze. He had been standing there in his black slacks, black dress shoes and a green button up polo shirt for fifteen minutes already.

“I give up Rae.” He looked down on the ground. His words were so soft because he was very much afraid of the implications himself. He knew he had to let her go.

“I—I don’t think I can visit you like this.” He fought the tears as he said his words a little louder. And there was nothing left to say, he just softly touched her hand for a second and pulled away and then looked at her blankly.

A month after Damian’s decision to let Raven go, he realized getting to the conclusion and acknowledging what had to be done and executing his decisions were two completely different things. He was still visiting her in the same consistency that he always had. And he knew he had to fight to break the habit that he had already formed. Seeing her was second nature to him, and he simply had to break it.

~.~.~.~.~

Two months after, Damian was finally able to decrease his visits. And had even met Garfield a few times and actually didn’t mind it. His visit reduction was not really significant but the fact he was able to decrease it at all, was a win for him.

He was in jeans and a red shirt, looking very casual and he looked more unbothered and not so tired. His hands in his pockets as he just stood. For the first time, he looked genuinely relaxed. His gaze at her was soft and the eyebags he had been sporting in different shades, for almost two years, were significantly less dark this time.

“I know I don’t visit often anymore—and you probably can’t tell—aside from the obvious,” A small twinkle in his eyes at the little joke. The fact that he could make a joke like that, spoke volumes of how far he had come. “You really made me pine over you for the duration you pined over Garfield. Nine years—you really made this whole thing come into full circle. You pined for him for nine years and decided to move on completely—but this happens.” He gestured at her generally.

“Now I have pined for you for the same duration, and I have decided to move on too.” He said grimly and the hint of playfulness he had prior was gone. “It really came full circle.”

He just stood to her right with a small smile. He tried his best not to stay so long to visit her nowadays. Damian found that standing was the best option in order for him not to stay longer than he intended.

Damian puts his hand atop Raven’s, he has also avoided holding her hand properly or else he’d find himself sitting on his spot and just holding her hand. He would then talk to her and the intended short visit would become like his regular visits from before.

“I have decided. I am moving on—I am letting you go.” And he pulled his hand away a little too quickly, afraid of the temptation that was the familiarity of her hand against his—or maybe it was his hand against hers. After all, it was always him holding onto her.

His head had looked away to look at the flowers on her bedside tables. He has been talking to her about visiting her less, and letting her go for a few months now. At first it was just a passing thought. But the last two months, it seemed Damian had to tell her every time he visited. He was unaware of how frequent he was telling her that. But in retrospect, he could tell now that he had been dropping hints.

It started from hints, to telling her absentmindedly, to repeatedly telling her every time he visits—until finally he was able to visit less. And because Damian turned his head, he missed the small twitch of Raven’s hand when he pulled his hand away, to look at her bedside tables.

There was silence, as he looked down and closed his eyes. He squeezed his eyes for a moment then sighed as he looked at Raven, a faint smile on his lips. He took a step back, feeling as though he was leaving his heart on this spot. He then turned feeling lonely yet strong and regretful at the same time.

When he was gone, Raven’s eyebrow twitched.

The next day when Damian decided to check on Raven’s condition, he was frozen in fear to see the scientist and doctors hovering over Raven who was attached to so many monitors and tubes.

It was like he had stepped into the time she was brought in to close up her wound. He was unfrozen when she saw her spasming. He ran towards her, as her chest lifted and she was choking, black almost slime like blood came out from her mouth and spilled from her oxygen mask.

“Sir—we need you out of the way.” A doctor pulled Damian away. “Who let this one in!” The doctor added and a nurse took Damian away, trying to console him.

“This is odd—there seems to be no traces of the compound we found last time. But her body is rejecting something.” Damian heard the doctor say, at that moment Raven’s eyes opened and her line of sight fell on Damian’s instantly. Her hand lifted slowly to his direction; her eyes wet as her face slowly turned red from the lack of oxygen. A doctor had already punctured her lungs to assist her in breathing, but black blood was oozing out from it.

“Let me, the fuck go!” Damian yelled as he strongly shoved the nurse off of him. He was normally someone who didn’t do this, but seeing Raven’s face slowly contort to fear and resignation, he actually went against the nurse. He remembered when she was in ICU for the first few months he observed quietly from the distance, but he couldn’t now.

“Raven!” He called out as he knelt on the floor and held her right hand that she had stretched out. “I promise, I will not leave you. So, you have to fight this!”

She squeezed his hand in hers as best as she could as her eyes closed and a tear slipped from her eye.

“Sir—I’m sorry but you are being a distraction.” A bulky man approached Damian, giving him no choice but to let go of Raven’s hand and put his hands up as he slowly left the room.

“She’s—I heard the subject has powers—” A person in a lab gown said, perhaps a scientist.

“Patient.” A doctor cuts off the scientist.

Before Damian was shoved out of the room, he stole a glance of Raven, her hand was glowing a faint purple black hue. And it seemed that she could breathe.

“Sir—there seems to be something appearing—” And that was the last thing Damian heard before the door was shut close in front of him.

Two weeks later Raven was finally stable but still in a coma. They were fighting with her condition for those two weeks—cross referencing and analyzing data, finding and testing out new information. And everything has now calmed down. He was only allowed entry today after the stunt that he pulled.

Damian was sitting on his chair, holding her hand. He wore a white t-shirt with many creases. His hair is a slightly better case compared to his shirt. And the outfit was complete with a plain pair of jeans and casual shoes. And to top it all off, his eyebags had become darker again.

”You really scared me. God, I forgot how afraid I was of losing you recently—you really know how to make someone remember, huh?” He muttered as he put her hand against his forehead, he was shaking a bit, as he fought his tears. And he felt her hand twitch against his—and he choked as he looked at her face.

Her eyes were still close but for the first time, he actually felt her react. In two years, she finally moved. He smiled tightly and nodded his head. He brought her hand against his lips and softly kissed her hand.

“You reached out to me that night, didn’t you?” He put her hand against his cheek as he turned his head towards her again. “You have to wake up and clarify that to me.” And he heard her loudly inhale.

For the first time in months, he finally had hope that she would wake up. “I promise you; I will wait for you to wake up. This time, I will not break this promise.”

~.~.~.~.~

The door suddenly opened with a panic stricken Damian. He was unable to take off his outer coat and change into cleaner shoes because he heard a crash from generally where Raven’s room was located, on the second floor, when he had just entered the building.

“Raven!” He called out his fear practically at the base of his throat.

When he heard the loud crash, he feared for the worst. His eyes at first saw an empty bed, and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. The vase on her right bedside table with flowers had shattered on the floor. He quickly searched for Raven, and exhaled deeply when he spotted her at the foot of her bed. She was holding onto her bed with great difficulty. Her eyes observed Damian wearily.

He approached her, thinking that maybe this was a dream.

“Raven.” He whispered when he was two feet away, her violet eyes did not show any recognition at seeing Damian. He picked her up and carried her in his arms, and despite not recognizing him at first, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Damian.” She whispered and he squeezed him back. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, as he carried her back to her bed. He set her down gently as he pulled away, she grabbed his right hand.

“It feels so perfect.” She gently told him, and Damian was startled by her words. A smile slowly formed and he found himself chuckling.

“I’ve been here almost every day, holding your hand. Maybe your hand molded into mine—” He shook his head. "Or maybe the other way around.”

“I—my memory is kind of fuzzy,” Raven said as she laid back in bed. “But I know you, I remember you. I heard you so often. It became scary when you weren’t there.” Her eyes started to flutter, she seemed a little bit too tired. But she continued to hold his hand until she fully fell into slumber, to which her grip loosened.

Damian took the opportunity to call the doctors and scientist to inform them of her condition.

When she awoke again the doctors, scientists and Damian were talking.

~.~.~.~.~

A month after, Raven was already walking by herself inside her room. She started walking around the villa quite recently. But she has not been able to walk outside yet. She found that once the door to go outside the villa was opened, her knees would buckle. So, for the past month she was mostly roaming indoors.

She had found out that this was one of Bruce Wayne’s properties, and Damian had asked for the property. Damian was someone who would never ask anything of anyone if he could do it himself, so it was surprising to everyone that Damian had asked for this villa. And because of that Bruce granted Damian the property, if not for that, in the very least to give Damian some peace of mind. At least then Damian would know Raven had a place to stay and would not be kicked out if he so much as vanished.

She also found out that Damian did not spare any expense in her recuperation and that her situation was quite odd. The creature’s origin could not be quite narrowed down, thus its effects on her were up on the air. But that was where the doctors and scientists and all the tech was for, alien tech included. With the collective resources provided, they were able to make something to assist Raven’s condition.

“Raven, I think you should really try to get out.” Damian said as he walked in. He looked so happy seeing her, just standing by the window gazing out. She turned her head to smile at him.

He looked better—in fact the happiest and relaxed he had ever been in two years. His clothes were pressed well, it was a casual attire, and he had no hint of any kind of weariness. No more eyebags, and his eyes no longer looked so dead.

“If you go with me, I can try.” She responded, she had not seen him in two weeks due to his busy schedule, with the team and talking to her doctors and scientists. Him learning and relearning everything about her condition since she got attacked, and he also had family matters, he didn’t really have time to be with Raven recently and she understood.

She kept herself busy by building her physical strength through walking within the walls of Damian’s villa. She also used the time to comb through her thoughts.

“Okay.” He agreed as he offered her his right hand and she accepted it with both her hands. Until now he couldn’t believe that she was awake.

“I really thought I was dreaming when you woke up a month ago.” He confessed again as he sighed and led her to the door.

“I’m here. Everything is still a bit fuzzy. But I know you—I trust you. Your Damian.” Raven responded unhurriedly as she placed a hand on his arm.

Fifteen minutes later, Damian came in with Raven in his arms weeping.

“I—I can’t… it—it…” And she wept.

“I’m sorry, we will take it step by step. I will be here if you ever want to try and go outside.” He comforted her as he placed her on her bed. She nodded as he wiped away her tears.

“I thought I was going to die—” She sobbed. “There was something I wanted to do… I don’t—” Another sob, “I don’t recall what.”

He held her hands and then she suddenly froze on the spot. She looked at him in the eyes, and she blinked as the tears fell. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

And this time it was his time to freeze on the spot. Raven pulled her hands away from his, and she placed her fingertips on either side of his face.

“I was afraid that I didn’t have enough time with you. I wanted to know you more.” Her vision seemed to go back to that night. “I wanted to be with you.” She absent-mindedly brushed her lips against his. And when the pressure registered in her brain, she pulled away, an apology at the tip of her tongue.

Raven was surprised to feel an even heavier pressure against her lips. And she returned the kiss as well as deepened it. She noted how she was reacting very naturally over the situation, and how inexperienced Damian was. And she pulled away.

“Is this your first kiss?” She asked him. And he looked away with a small blush on his face.

“It’s—I’m very inexperienced with dating…” He admitted, and she observed him as she wiped her tears.

“I’m assuming, I have dated before.” She replied impartially.

“Yes, Garfield.” He responded blankly, and when the name came off Damian’s mouth, he saw her expression soften. His eye twitched as he looked away. He suddenly felt her hands against his, making him turn to look at her again.

“Gar… field…” She muttered, his hand clenching at the way she called his name. “Was he the only one I dated?” Damian nodded in response.

“I see…” She said with furrowed brows. “My head is aching a bit. I think I should rest…” Raven lets go of Damian’s hands.

“Can we try going outside again tomorrow?” Damian was pulled out from his reverie with the inquiry, surprise in his eyes.

“Of course, I would love that.” She smiled at his response.

“Can you—” She looked at him hesitatingly. “Can you hold my hand when we do?”

He was even more shocked to hear those words, and he smiled as he placed a hand on her cheek. “Of course, Raven.”

“I would like to date you, Damian.” Raven stared at Damian, who just pulled his hand away from her cheek and straightened his posture as he looked away.

“Your memory isn’t like what it was Raven, I think it’s too early to say that.” His response wasn’t something she enjoyed but Raven pressed her lips together and did not push him.

She didn’t recall her love for Garfield at the moment and assuming she would choose Damian when she does recall, would be too much of wishful thinking on Damian's part.

~.~.~.~.~

The sun was setting and the white room was filled with an orange hue from the setting sun outside. Raven and Damian had just arrived from walking outside. This time around she was able to stay outside longer without having flashbacks of the night she got stabbed. It was great progress. But she always held Damian as if he was the only remaining lifeboat in an open, turbulent ocean.

Damian and Raven were continuing a pleasant conversation they had outside in her bedroom, when suddenly the door opened.

“Raven!” Garfield came in with such a relieved look on his face, his eyes expectant as he searched for her. Damian and Raven’s happy conversation grew stale as they turned their head to the door.

“Raven!” He called out again when his eyes landed on her but Raven remained in place. “Of course, you wouldn’t tell me she is awake!” Garfield added with a glare to Damian, whose head was casted down.

“Tsk, Greyson.” He muttered, Greyson right behind Garfield but was hidden from Damian’s line of sight. Despite Damian’s head casted down, he took note of Raven’s reaction.

She was still, she stood in place, but Damian could tell, she was so close to running to Garfield and hugging him. And all Damian could do was squeeze his eyes shut, as he inhaled softly while clenching his fists.

Seeing Garfield, Raven felt like her soul from inside her was vibrating with excitement. And yet, at the same time it felt as though a thin layer of frost blanketed her entire body, and it was enough to render her frozen. Despite her deep desire to hug Garfield, her feet were so heavily planted on the floor, that she didn’t even move an inch. Her breathing was shallow and unhurriedly soft, and she just focused on that.

The days had passed so pleasantly after Raven woke up that Damian had thought that he had a place in her heart. But seeing her like this, he knew—Garfield still outweighs him.

“Get out.” Raven said, to which Damian snapped his head to Raven’s direction, who had simply turned her back and walked to the window. “All of you.”

Damian wanted to say something, his fists curling and uncurling by his sides, but he saw her stiff figure with crossed arms as she stubbornly looked outside. He was the last to leave.

He came back a few hours later, to see Raven sitting by the windowsill looking outside.

“He hasn’t left has he?” She whispered hoarsely not looking at who entered. Damian shook his head as he replied, even though she would not see it.

“His downstairs, hoping you’d at least see him.” He got no response, but she tilted her head.

“I didn’t see him leave.” She muttered vacantly.

“I’m here to convince you to eat dinner.” And Raven turned to look at him, a frown on her face.

“Okay,” She sighed. “But you are eating with me.”

Damian was startled at hearing this, a second passed before the words sunk in.

“Alright.” He blinked at her.

“Here.” She added and he told her that he would be back, as he left for a moment to get them their dinner.

When he arrived with food, they sat on a pub table that was added a little after Raven woke up. It could only sit two people, and it was made of some nice honey brown wood. The cushions of the chair are red and its frame is made of the same wood as the table. It was rather small for two people, but they made do.

Raven was vacantly playing with her food while Damian observed her with a frown. He had not yet scolded her for not eating, as he was giving her just a little more time.

With a sigh she said, “It’s odd, when I saw him, it felt like I just realized the world was a puzzle with missing pieces, and his presence just made all the missing pieces appear on it’s designated places. He was familiar, he was someone I knew—love, maybe even… but something didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to approach him. And I didn’t want him to approach me.” Damian just listened as she said her piece.

The two were enveloped in a tranquility that evidently belonged to them, and them alone. They felt secured in each other’s presence and there was no response needed.

~.~.~.~.~

It took Raven three days to be able to even meet Garfield. The sun was setting, and from Raven’s window, one could see Raven talking with Garfield. They were sitting on a bench facing the sunset, their backs facing the window in Raven’s room.

So, it was a given that the two did not see Damian observing them from the window. He did not look upset nor joyful with the scene he was seeing. But once Garfield placed a hand on Raven’s hand, and she tilted her head a bit towards Garfield, you could see Damian’s face slowly turn into unpleasantness.

When the minutes passed, and Garfield nor Raven had not pulled away from one another, his face contorted to wanting to storm out from Raven’s room to standing still and just holding his breath—just hoping and wishing—that she had not chosen Garfield.

But the minutes continued to pass, and Garfield’s hand continued to rest on Raven’s hand. And Raven glanced at him with a smile forming on her lips. And Damian couldn’t help but think that despite Raven having difficulties in leaving the building with him, if it was Garfield with her—of course it would be easier for her to be outside with him-- with Garfield.

And Raven started closing in on the space between her and Garfield, and Damian did not want to see that. So, he turned around quickly, and he stood with his back against them, as he flexed his fists, and sighed. He had hurried to see her; he had gone through the garage so he was unable to see them in the yard. Once he got into her room, and she wasn’t there, Damian absentmindedly walked to the window. That was when he saw her and Garfield together on a bench, looking like lovers.

He wondered how long he stood by the window looking at them. He closed his eyes and sighed again, by the end of the day it was never him. He walked to the door without looking back.

A few days later, Raven is pacing her room anxiously. She had not seen Damian in days, she worried he saw her and Garfield the other day and that was why he was nowhere to be seen. But she wanted to explain to him what he had seen wasn’t what he thought. She had to tell him.

And she could feel the panic go up onto her throat. She sat on her bed, facing the door. She had refused to step out of her room after she talked to Garfield—not without Damian. She could not find the strength to go out of her room after her chat with Garfield.

Raven buried her hands on her face as the tears started to stream from her eyes. All she could see under her closed eyes, was the time—that night, when she reached out for Damian. The pain when that black spike hit her sternum.

She recalled her desire to be with Damian, but right now she felt it so very intensely that she was afraid. She was so afraid that she had lost that chance. And the door opened, and in an instant she was up on her feet with wide eyes. Seeing that it was Damian, she sobbed as she ran towards Damian and tackled him with a hug.

He was startled and it took a moment for him to realize that she was hugging him so tightly. He gently returned her hug.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back. I was so scared.” She wept on the nook of his shoulder, her feet not even touching the floor.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He replied softly, and tightened his hold on her as he set her down a bit so that she could touch the floor. They stood like that for a moment.

Raven eventually pulled away and tried to collect her bearings. She wiped her tears and looked at Damian in the eyes. On the other hand, he was wishing she hadn’t pulled away-- maybe that was the only time he could hold her like that. And she reached for his hands and it felt so right.

“When Gar came, and guided me outside, I couldn’t find the strength to step through the door. All I could think about was that I need you. I need you to hold my hand as I step outside. While that night kept flashing through my mind. But he held my hand—and it felt so familiar. And all my fears just vanished.” She looked down on their feet. “And I found myself outside—with him.” There was guilt in her face and on the tone of her voice. And Damian honestly did not want to hear what she had to say next. But she held his hands tighter, making him decide to just keep quiet. A small smile formed on her lips as tears fell and splatter on the floor.

“I forgot the time I was injured, till the time before he held my hands. It felt like I could breathe again.” Damian’s right eye twitched, he wondered what was her point. She suddenly flicked her head to look at him, and he was startled.

“He will always be someone that matters to me, we will always have history. I have loved him for nine years, we shared so many memories—so many firsts. But I do not want to be with him. I want to be with you. And I know I am asking a lot, but if all these don't bother you—I would love it, if you would date me.” But she was greeted with silence. “I want you. I want to be with you.” She softly added, her confidence fading.

“I don’t mind.” He said so softly, but Raven didn’t hear it.

“If that is an issue for you, then I completely understand.” She continued on.

“I don’t mind.” He repeated.

“I know it’s been two years, and that there must have been someone you became interested in. Or maybe you’ve even dated a bit. I know we don’t talk about it, but I get that—” She squeezed her eyes, her tone ready to break in a sob.

“Raven, I want to be with you.” He cupped her cheek and tilted her head towards him. She looked at him with the slightest hint of distrust. “I’ve always wanted to be with you—I waited for you.” He said, being able to say those words felt like such a relief to Damian. And the tears started falling from Raven’s eyes as the distrust was washed away.

“I almost gave up, I admit that.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her anymore. She cupped both of his cheeks.

“If I were in your place, even I would waver.” She told him, trying to catch his dodging eyes. When she finally was able to lock her eyes with his, she added. “Garfield will always have some meaning to me—his all I have known for nine years, even before sleeping for two years—my history with him is half of my life. I was afraid. I thought he was the only one who could possibly love someone like me—I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I want my next memories and moments-- with you. And slowly those memories I had, and my history with him, will just be a fraction of my life. I want you. I want every possible milestone with you, Damian.”

He slowly nodded, and when Raven’s eyes registered the nod, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle. But she looked like she was going to cry out of happiness and disbelieve. This time she has chosen him.

“I never thought this day would happen.” He leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, and a soft smile formed on her lips. And they shared the moment in silence. After a while, Damian talks.

“I was afraid to ask, or open up about this, especially since you were still recuperating—and your memories are fuzzy. But who would have thought you would catch me by surprise and open up the topic yourself?” Raven took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips, and he conservatively kissed back to which she deepened the kiss. And she pulled away recalling Damian’s inexperience last time.

“We will take it step by step. I might still remember more about Garfield, and I might get a little confused. But remind me that I chose you since that night.” She leaned her forehead against his, eyes locked with one another. Damian’s eyes flickered with surprise and the confirmation that she chose him that night, made his eyes soften with the acknowledgement. He caressed her face with his thumb.

“I finally caught up to you.” He whispered, a giggle bubbling up on the base of Raven’s throat.

~.~.~.~.~

A few months later, the white sterile room was no longer white nor empty. Raven had flipped the room with Damian’s help and approval. Its walls were now a soft lilac color. The room’s furniture was either accented with white, glass or silver metals. And the ceiling was littered with little crystals, that once the lights were off, would illuminate like stars in different colors. The medical bed swapped for a king sized bed. Her sheets were navy blue and white.

“Raven, are you ready?” Damian’s voice came from outside her open door. She turned in her white fitted dress with the thinnest spaghetti straps. Her long hair that passed her waist was tied into a fishtail braid.

“Of course!” She replied happily, as she ran towards the door, and tackled Damian with a hug and giggled.

“Excited for our brunch?” He teased.

“Absolutely!” She replied without missing a second.

Later that night they were in her bedroom. Damian sat on her bed and she was kneeling over his lap. Raven’s hair slowly unravelling from its braid. Their lips have been intertwined with one another for minutes now. He had one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, a bit too afraid to rest it on her bum. While her hands were on his neck and on his chest.

Raven broke off the kiss, and started kissing his neck.

“If we’re going too fast, you can tell me.” She muttered in between kisses. But when she did not hear any response, she pulled away to look at him.

“I know Garfield and I had a lot of firsts together, if that bothers you…” Damian broke away from his dazed state and looked at her questioningly.

“I admit, at first it did,” His eyes followed his hand as it traveled from her thigh to her waist which he caressed. “Thinking of how he knows how to please you…” He looked back at her conflicted eyes. “But that just means I have to learn how to please you my way. You two were together for so long—it would be a given that I’m not your first. That is alright. But you are mine.” He admitted a small blush on his face. And she smiled as she kissed his eye and trailed kisses to his jawline. He was being brought back to his dazed state.

“I feel honored.” She whispered in between her kisses. And she playfully bit his ear after. Damian was startled and grabbed her butt and she gasped.

“Then I will take the lead then.” She whispered alluringly by his ear, as her hands travelled under his shirt. Her braid was completely undone at this point, soft black wavy waist length hair cascading down her head.

FIN.

Bonus Scene:

Garfield and Raven were outside on the yard and they had been talking for hours that the sun had finally begun to set.

“You know, when I woke up, I couldn’t find myself to walk out of my room. Eventually, I was able to overcome it. But I found that it was so difficult to step outside the villa. All I could see was that night and being stabbed, and the last person I saw.” Raven confessed and Garfield placed a hand on hers to comfort her.

“But Damian was there, he guided me and stayed with me as we walked outside.” A small smile on her lips. “I always held him like I was in open water and he was the lifeboat. I was afraid of losing him. I mean, I still am. I still hold him so tightly, because I’m afraid that it would be my last chance with him. I thought I was going to die that night, Gar.”

“But when you offered your hand and held me, after you said you knew of my condition—my fear outside.” She glanced at the open area. “I forgot how afraid I was of going outside. It was like my fears these few months were nothing but a phantom. You were always associated with love and happy memories for me. But you and I both know, Gar, we were imperfect. We were destructive. We had become unhappy together for a very long time.” And she glanced at him fully.

“I want to say goodbye.” She finally said, and Garfield looked at her gently as Raven extended her arms to hug him. “I want to start a new romance—with Damian.” She whispered as they embraced one another.

“I wish you two happiness.” Garfield said as he pulled away.

“Yes, thank you.” She looked back at Damian’s villa. “I was so afraid I would lose him, I still do now, it's why I always hold him tightly whenever we go outside.” She looked back at the sunset that was facing them.

“I held on because of him—I’m sure it was him, I could feel his hand and hear him every now and then, until all I knew was his presence.” She mumbled mostly to herself.

Alternate (timeline) Ending:

Damian was asleep on the table, and had woken up with a jolt, all teary eyed.

“Damian, what’s wrong?” Raven said as she approached the table.

“I had a dream, you got injured and you were in a coma.” He replied. And he tells her what happened in his dream.

Alternate’s Alternate Ending: (Reciprocate timeline)

“I had a dream, you got injured and you were in a coma.” He replied as Raven sat down beside him. She gently places a hand on his, as she smiles softly.

“Damian, that did happen.” She replied unhurriedly.

35 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 8/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Petra was walking down a street with a slight spring in her step. Today would be a good day, she could feel it. Entering the precinct, she was filled with a sense of giddy trepidation.

She couldn't wait to see Levi. Last night's events seemed like a dream to her. Meeting detective Hange, almost getting into a fight with her and then watching her reunite with Levi - she couldn't quite believe that it actually happened. But it did, and now Petra wondered if the change in Levi would be visible.

Would he drop the gloomy, irritated facade? Would she see him smile?

Ah, Petra was so excited!

She was so excited, so lost in her world that she didn't pay much attention to her surroundings. So when her forehead collided with someone else's, she got quite a surprise.

Petra jumped back, immediately apologizing. She lifted her eyes and met the icy stare of her partner.

She gulped. So he didn't drop the gloomy facade.

"Good morning!" she squealed, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Levi continued to bore his eyes into her, and Petra fidgeted, unsure of what to do and not knowing the reason for his anger.

She watched him beneath her eyelashes - Levi's face was pale with dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders were hunched and his posture was tense. Petra's eyebrows knitted together, it was all wrong.

She could explain the circles under his eyes, Levi met his long lost partner after two years of separation, of course, he didn't get much sleep last night. There was probably a lot they needed to discuss, and maybe... They did other things too. But why was Levi so frustrated now? Did something happen between him and detective Hange? Did they have a fight?

"I was waiting for you," Levi said finally. "Put your things in the office and come to the forensics department. I'll be there."

And just like that, Levi was gone. Petra stared after him, confused and bewildered. He reunited with his beloved partner just yesterday, wasn't he happy about it?

She didn't have the time to ponder about it, though. Whatever was the reason for Levi's tenseness, she didn't wish to anger him anymore. And so she needed to hurry. Petra whirled around, heading to the elevators. Walking inside, she pushed the needed button with a heavy sigh. It looked like another long day was ahead of her.

***

When Petra entered the forensics department, Levi was the only one there. He was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in deep thought, as he studied the stack of papers in his hands.

"Hey," Petra called timidly, gripping the side of the door tightly. "Where is everyone else?"

"Moblit and Nifa are busy in the dissection room," he answered without looking up. "They'll be here soon."

"Alright," Petra softly stepped inside. "Did you find something in there?" she gestured to the papers.

"Nothing that could give us a definite clue," Levi said, obviously annoyed by this fact. "The victim was dragged, just like the first time. The drug was injected into her neck, though, and not administered orally."

"Maybe, the killer was in a hurry?" Petra suggested.

"Possibly," Levi nodded. "Maybe, he didn't have the time to woo her like the last victim. Maybe, he needed to kill her that night because— oh," his eyes widened and he froze for a second, gripping the papers tighter. "It makes sense now," he whispered.

"What does?" Petra frowned, confused.

"Nothing," Levi shook his head. "Something Hange told me. I need to check it first. There is another thing, though."

"What?" Petra leaned closer, looking at papers behind Levi's shoulder.

"The jacket, there is a trace of Hange's DNA."

"So? You already identified it yesterday."

"Hange’s DNA is not the only one they found," Levi took out small package. "Here, look at this.”

Petra snatched the package from his hands, curiously looking it over. She was quite disappointed to realize that inside was just a single hair.

"Isn't it..." she squinted a bit. The hair was brown. "Doesn't it belong to detective Hange?"

"No, hers is slightly different. The color is richer. And this one curls at the end."

"Alright," Petra had no choice but to agree. Apparently, she was talking with an expert, with someone who had spent a lot of his time staring at detective Hange's hair.

"Besides, it was confirmed that this hair doesn't belong to her. Obviously, it's from the killer."

Tall man with curly brown hair, Petra suddenly remembered. So the witness was right after all?

"Zeke most probably isn't the killer," Levi announced after a few seconds of tense silence. "Hange says there is no way he could be involved."

"And you believe it?" Petra asked carefully.

Levi hung his head. "I'm not sure. On one hand, no else has the motive for these killings. On the other, Hange is sure it's not him."

"How is she, by the way? Was everything alright last night?" Petra's gaze shifted from one corner of the room to another, unable to meet Levi's eyes. Fighting with her nervousness, she wriggled her hands behind her and continued. "You just seem a bit tense today, and I couldn't help but wonder why. I, well, maybe I just expected you to be a little bit happier. Yesterday you've found out that your beloved is actually alive so—"

The papers fell from Levi's hands. Petra shut her mouth immediately, eyes snapping to her partner's face. They stared at each other for a long moment, the heavy silence hanging over the room. The strained atmosphere was destroyed by Levi's quiet curse.

"What the fuck Petra?" he crouched down, frantically gathering the papers. "We— four eyes and I are not—" he closed his eyes, scowling. "We are not lovers, for Christ's sake! How could you even think about it?"

"You... are not?" Petra stared down at him, her mouth agape. There was no way she could read the signs wrong. It was obvious!

"Of course we are not!" Levi snapped. "How did you come up with nonsense?"

Well, where Petra should even begin?

"You care so much about her!" she decided to start with the most obvious clue.

Levi raised an eyebrow, looking up at Petra from his position on the floor. "Don't you care about your friends?"

"Of course, I do," she huffed, resisting the urge to stomp her feet in frustration. Levi wasn't seriously trying to use the friend's card. She saw them yesterday, their relationship was obviously much more than simply platonic.

"You grieved for her for two years!"

"Just like any close friend would do," Levi replied. He rose up, fixing his tie and giving Petra an unimpressed look.

She wasn't going to give up so easily, though. There should be something, something Levi wouldn't be able to deny.

And then she remembered.

"The witness!" she pointed her finger at Levi's chest. "The concierge at detective Hange's old place, he recognized you! So you shared an apartment with her!"

"Don't be absurd," Levi waved her off, still completely unfazed. "I just visited her a lot. Hange could never wake up in time for work, so I used to visit her place to wake her up. Sometimes I came to make her dinner or clean that junkyard she called her home, that's all."

That's all? Levi woke her up in the mornings, they frequently had dinners together and he helped to clean her apartment? And they weren't in a relationship? She couldn't wrap her head around it. She saw them together, what they felt for each other was undeniable. Could they not see it?

"But—" she stuttered, unsure how to follow up.

Levi sighed. "Even if the subject was quite questionable, your dedication is admiring, detective," he patted her shoulder, walking past her. "However, your deduction was wrong."

It was not and she knew it. Petra knew she was right. She could do nothing, though. If Levi himself didn't notice his true feelings, she wasn't the one who could make him see. He had another partner for that.

"If you have any questions regarding the case," Levi said when he was already in the doorway. "Wait for Moblit and Nifa. If you need me, I'll be in Erwin's office."

"Ah, okay," Petra answered feebly, watching the door close after him.

A moment later, however, another door opened. Nifa and Moblit walked inside.

"Petra!" Nifa squealed, hurriedly taking off the protective goggles and gloves. "How was your date? Did you enjoy it? Did he like your look? Did you two kiss? Did—"

"Nifa," Moblit smiled forcefully and squeezed her shoulder. "Take a breath and pay attention," he nodded at the papers in Petra's hands. "Detective Ral obviously didn't come here to discuss her personal life."

"Ah, yes," Petra finally snapped out of her stupor. "I did come here for work purposes, but," she laid the papers down on the nearest table. "I have a question too. It's kind of personal?"

"Oh?" Nifa pressed hands against her chest, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Spill it already."

And well, how should she begin? The straight approach was the easiest one, she decided.

"What is the nature of relationship between Levi and detective Zoe? Levi just told me they aren't lovers but is it really true? I mean, they're so..." she bit her lip, thinking. The word close didn't quite cut it.

Nifa interrupted her musings, clasping her shoulder with a grin. "Ah, frustrated much with their relationship? Welcome to the club, dear," she announced chirpily.

"Wait," Moblit raised an arm, coming to stand directly in front of Petra. He loomed over her, his hazel eyes boring into her with unusual seriousness. "You discussed this with detective Levi? And why did you talk about detective Hange as though she is..." his voice cracked on the last word. Moblit closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "As though she is still alive?"

"Oh," Petra cast her eyes down, thinking. She forgot that Levi wasn't the only who cared about Hange. Should she tell them? Or should she keep it a secret? Levi said that he trusted the guys from forensics department, but how much? Would trust them with the secret of his partner?

In the end, it was the pain and misery in Moblit's eyes that pushed Petra to make a decision.

"The thing is..." she cleared her throat, not knowing where to look - at Moblit's nervous expression or at Nifa's confused one? "Detective Zoe is actually, well, she's alive."

"What?" Nifa's hands flew to her face.

Moblit squeezed the edge of the nearest table, using it as his support. "What..." he began quietly, uncertainly. "What are you talking about?"

"She survived the explosion,” Petra explained softly. “I've met her last night. In our office."

"You've never seen her though," Nifa frowned. "How can you be sure it's really detective Hange?

"Well," Petra's lips curved into a faint smile. "Levi had seen her too, so..."

"Oh," Nifa breathed out.

Meanwhile, Moblit sat heavily on the chair, covering his eyes with a palm.

“I don’t know how exactly she survived,” Petra added. “But she’s alive.”

Silence fell over the room. It lasted for a few more minutes, and then Nifa cried out in joy, lifting her hands in the air.

"Detective Hange is alive!" she exclaimed it with the biggest smile. "We should celebrate! Moblit, make us tea! And bring my apple pie!"

Despite his shaken state, Moblit was on his feet instantly, ready to fulfill Nifa's request.

"Thank you for telling us," he whispered to Petra, giving her a quick hug. "It means so much to me."

"Sure," Petra patted his back awkwardly.

"Right," Moblit took a step back, letting her go. "Now, the tea."

"So," Nifa sat down, putting hands under her chin. "How our detective Hange is doing? Does she still look so cool?"

"I don't know..." Petra scratched the back of her head. "She has a patch over her left eye now, though."

"Ah," Nifa sighed dreamily. "So she looks even cooler now."

"Don't mind her," Moblit advised, as he put the tray with tea and pie on the table in front of them. Petra thanked him and joined Nifa. "She just used to have the biggest of crushes on detective Hange."

"Oi, shut up," Nifa smacked his arm. "As if you're that different from me."

"I don't have a crush on Hange," he denied, glaring at Nifa. "I just admire her a lot. Platonically."

"Oh, sure," Nifa huffed. "Should I tell Petra about that time when you invited Hange on a date, Mr. Platonic Admiration?"

"It wasn't a date," Moblit said stubbornly. "I just had a spare ticket to a very interesting science exhibition, and I knew Hange likes this stuff, so I decided to take her with me."

"Tell her," Nifa nudged, sending a piece of pie in her mouth. "Tell Petra what happened next."

Moblit sighed. "She agreed to come with me."

"And?" Nifa prompted further, smiling slyly.

He turned his face away. "And then she showed up together with detective Ackerman."

"Oh," Petra rubbed Moblit's back soothingly. "It must have been rough."

"It was okay," he forced a smile. "Besides, Nifa here," he pointed his fork at her with a smug look. "Used to have a crush on both of them."

"So what?" Nifa shrugged. "I don't deny it. They both look very good and have you ever seen them in action? Once I watched them spar with each other in the gym. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Eugh,” Moblit cringed. "However," he turned to Petra. "You should have seen how she tried to flirt with them. It was hilarious. And a bit awkward, since none of them really noticed her attempts."

"Yeah," Nifa agreed solemnly. "As smart as they are, they are so oblivious," she shook her head. "They're too focused on each other."

"So," Petra gripped the cup tighter in her hands. "It's true? They aren't a thing?"

Nifa laughed. "They're most definitely a thing. They just don't know about it."

"Oh."

"But, since detective Hange is alive, they have time to figure it out," Moblit smiled encouragingly. Then the smile vanished from his face, as he fixed Nifa with a strict gaze. "We, however, don't have the time. Finish your tea and get up. We still have a lot work."

"Yes, dad," Nifa whined.

"I need to get going as well," Petra smiled, finishing her tea. "Thanks for the conversation and for the snacks, but Moblit is right. The work doesn't wait. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye!" Nifa waved her hand. "We'll be waiting for you to come back!"

Petra waved back and then headed to the door, still smiling softly.

***

On her way to the office, at the opposite end of the hallway, Petra saw a familiar figure. Her first instinct was to run and hide. To her dismay, however, he already noticed her.

"Detective Ral!" Sannes called, hurrying to get to her.

As he came closer, Petra noticed that he wasn't alone - a young, dark-haired man was trudging after him. Petra didn't recognize him. Was he not from the precinct?

"I haven't seen you yesterday," he said, as he finally caught up with her.

"Had been busy with a case," Petra mumbled, staring at Sannes' companion. He wasn't a part of the police, she was sure of it. His clothes - buggy shirt and ripped jeans - further confirmed her suspicion. Who was he then? And why was he making her feel so uneasy?

"A case?" Sannes' companion asked, flashing Petra an awfully smug grin. "You're talking about the recent murders, right? I've heard they're pretty gruesome," even as he said this, the smile didn't leave his face. Petra's skin prickled in alarm. There was something about this man - she couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly - but something about him was disturbing. Her guts feelings were screaming, telling her to get away from him.

"Do you have a suspect already?" he continued, oblivious to her discomfort. Before Petra could even start thinking what to reply, the man beat her to it. "I've heard Zeke Yeager is the culprit, is it true?"

"It's not," Sannes interfered, the smile on his face wavered, turning into a grimace. He grasped the elbow of his companion, his grip so tight Petra wondered if it would leave bruises. "Forgive him, Ral. He's a new intern, and there is much he has to learn."

"For example, he should know that Zeke Yeager had been dead for two years," Petra offered with innocent expression.

"Um, yeah," Sannes nodded. He avoided looking her in the eyes, and watching him squirm, Petra internally cheered.

"Anyway, we should go, I was just finishing giving him a tour around the precinct."

"Good luck," she smiled. "Hope you'll enjoy your new workplace, intern," she added, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

The intern glared at her, breathing heavily. He obviously wanted to say something, but the grip Sannes had on his elbow and the death looks he had been sending him, persuaded him to keep his mouth shut. Sannes gave him a rough shove, pushing him in another direction.

"See you, Ral," he said and walked away.

Petra watched them go, the cogs turning in her head. How could this man know about Zeke? Except from her, Levi and Captain Erwin, no one could know that he's considered a suspect. No one could know that he's considered alive. Then how did Sannes find out? How did this man find out? Who was he? Why did he make her feel so nervous? And where did she—

Oh.

Petra finally remembered. The witness testimony. The tall man with dark curly hair. He fitted the description perfectly. Could it really be him? Why would Sannes conspire with a killer, though? And why would he ask after Zeke? Could it be that—

No, Petra rejected the idea even before it was fully formed in her mind. It was too outlandish, ridiculous.

However... Her gut was telling her otherwise. She needed to check it. And she already knew how to get closer to the truth. It wasn't a good plan, stupid even, Levi would never agree to it. Luckily, Petra knew someone, who could help.

She turned around, heading into another wing of the precinct.

She needed to find Oluo.

***

"Erwin?" Levi called, knocking on the door of his office. "It's me, Levi. Are you in here? Can I come in?"

"Wait for a bit please!" Erwin shouted behind the door. "I'm busy."

"Asshole," Levi muttered, leaning against the wall. "First calls me here and now he's busy."

Just as he prepared to glare at the door before Erwin finishes with whatever he was doing, his phone started vibrating in the back pocket of his pants. He took it out, staring at the screen. He received a message. From unknown number. Frowning in confusion, he opened the message.

Still alive and kicking. Don't worry shorty :D

Levi huffed. He didn’t worry. He was just slightly curious about her wellbeing. Before he could start typing his response, two new messages appeared.

don't give erwin shit btw. He kept it a secret because i asked him to.

don't you dare punch him, levi. I will know. And I won't be pleased about it.

Levi rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar annoyance stir inside him. The annoyance he hadn't felt for two years. He bit down a smile, typing a quick reply.

Just as he was finishing, the door to Erwin's office opened. Nile Dawk, the captain of special enforcement unit, and Dot Pixis, the captain of property and crime scene unit, walked out.

Dawk looked grim as he pushed past Levi, not sparring him a glance. Pixis, however, was as cheerful as always.

"Good day, detective," he said, clasping Levi's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"Great," Levi pushed himself off the wall. "Excuse me, Captain, but I need—"

"Of course," Pixis winked. "Have a nice, productive shift!"

"Sure," Levi mumbled, giving him a weird look.

"What the fuck was that about?" he asked Erwin as soon as he closed the door to his office. "Since when you're buddies with Pixis and Dawk?"

“It’s important to maintain a friendly relationship with other units.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Levi plopped down onto a chair in front of Erwin’s desk. “What are you planning this time?”

Erwin turned his face to the side, hiding a smile. “It’s too early to tell.”

“Whatever,” Levi mumbled, sitting back in the chair. If Erwin wanted to keep his secrets, so be it. He didn’t give a shit.

No, Levi instantly corrected himself. There was one secret that he did give a shit about. And Erwin kept it from him purposefully.

“Don’t you dare punch him,” the voice in his head reminded him. Of course, it was Hange’s.

The temptation to defy her was big, but he'd try to keep it together. For her sake.

"So?" Levi crossed hands on his chest. "What did you call me here for?"

"Ah, yes," Erwin got to his feet, reaching the cupboard next to his desk and taking two cups from it. "I wanted to ask how you're doing," he started making tea for them, facing away from Levi. "It was a difficult day for you."

"That it was," Levi agreed, boring his eyes into Erwin's back. "But it got better. I met someone. An old friend."

"Oh?"

He continued watching Erwin, waiting for his reaction.

"Yeah, four-eyes said hello."

Erwin froze. Just for a second, but he did.

"Levi, I'm sorr—"

"No," Levi said harshly. "No, you're not."

To his credit, Erwin didn't try to protest. He carefully put the teacups on the desk and then sat back in his chair.

"For how long?" Levi asked. "For how long did you know?"

Erwin sighed. "For almost a year."

Fuck. Levi gripped the arms of a chair so tightly the old wood creaked. He wanted to kick the desk in front of him. Wanted to take that damn teacup and smash it against the wall. How could they? How could they hide it from him for so long?

"You know how much I care for her," he began, his voice calm despite the emotions swirling inside of him. "You knew how much I grieved, how much I've missed her. And you let me suffer."

"I know that you feel betrayed, Levi. I know that you're angry," Levi scoffed. Angry? That was an understatement. He was fucking furious. "But you must understand - I couldn't tell you."

"And why the fuck not?"

"Hange asked me."

"But why? Why did she ask you to keep it from me?"

Erwin's eyes softened. "You know why, Levi. You know why she wanted to keep you away. You wouldn’t let her go. And you wouldn't have let her follow through with her plan."

"So you agree with that idiotic plan?"

"No," Erwin answered firmly. "I want to get Zeke as much as she does. But I'm not going to sacrifice Hange's life to do it."

Levi exhaled. He didn't even know it, but he was afraid to hear Erwin's answer. He was afraid that he lost an ally in the battle against Hange's stubbornness and martyr complex.

"So you have another plan?"

"Yes," Erwin nodded.

"And Hange doesn't know about it?"

"Not yet."

"That's why you're conspiring with Pixis and Dawk, right?" Levi guessed.

"Like I said," Erwin clenched his jaw, determination shining in his gaze. "I'm working on it."

After hearing this, most of the tension left Levi's body. He slumped in the chair, reaching out for his teacup.

"That's it?" Erwin raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to even punch me?"

Levi made a face. "Hange asked me to spare you."

Well, she didn't ask, but ordered him. Obviously, Erwin didn't need to know that.

"Ah, I should thank her then," Erwin chuckled. "She saved my life after all."

"Don't be so dramatic," Levi rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have punched you that hard. Maybe, just broke your nose or jaw."

"Yeah," Erwin winced, rubbing his nose. "I'm glad we could avoid that."

Levi was glad too. If he really broke Erwin's nose, it would be such a mess. There'd be so much blood, and he'd have to clean it all by himself. Yeah, good thing they avoided it.

"Something still bothers you," Erwin noted, lifting the cup to his lips. "Care to share it with me?"

As always, Erwin was right. There was something that he couldn't stop thinking about. It plagued him ever since that kiss Hange planted on his cheek. And it began tormenting him after his morning conversation with Petra.

"Do Hange and I look like a couple?"

Erwin choked, coughing and spluttering tea all around his table. Levi tsked, rushing to Erwin's side to clasp his back a few times.

"What the fuck Levi?" he croaked out in between his coughs. "You can't just ask things like that."

"What?" Levi frowned. "It was a simple question. Petra mentioned it today. She thought, no, she was convinced that Hange and I," Levi cringed a little. "That we are romantically involved."

"Well," Erwin straightened in his seat, wiping his face with a handkerchief. "She's not the only one who thinks about you two that way."

"What?" Levi's eyes widened. "Who is it?" he demanded.

Erwin smiled. "Pretty much everyone at the precinct thought you were dating."

"But we— we did not," Levi protested helplessly.

"I know," Erwin comforted him. "Why does it bother you, though? It's just gossip, you were never the one to care what people say behind your back."

"And I still don't. I just— something happened last night," Levi closed his eyes for a second, recalling that small moment. "Hange— she kissed me. On a cheek!" he clarified, seeing Erwin's shocked expression. "You know four-eyes, she doesn't know what personal space is, but— it made me feel, I don't know, warm inside? I wanted her to do it again," he paused, taking a breath. This convention was making him feel so damn embarrassed, but he already started it. May as well finish it. "I remembered then, that warm feeling. It appeared frequently before you know," he shook his head. "Hange's death or whatever the fuck it was, but I was too busy then to stop and think about it. And after Hange was gone, I didn't really want to think about it. So, what do you think, Erwin? Could it be—"

"I don't know," Erwin said earnestly. "I'm not an expert in relationship, Levi. Especially, em, that kind of relationship, but... You have time. Hange's back, and I'll make sure, do my damnedest to make sure that she's back for good. You can figure it out together."

"Together, huh," Levi repeated. He liked the sound of it.

After all, that's when Hange and he were at their best. When they were together.

***

Back from the dead for less than a day and already getting on my nerves, four-eyes?

Staring down at the phone, Hange grinned. As she thought about his grumpy face, the grin grew wider.

"What are you smiling at?"

Hange quickly put the phone back into the pocket of Levi's coat. She looked up and saw Pieck and Porco stare back at her.

"Just a text," she said, shoving hands deep into the coat's pockets.

"A text?" Pieck arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've got yourself a date or something."

"I don't have a date or something," Hange mimicked Pieck’s voice, earning a glare from her. "Just a friend."

Pieck continued to watch her with narrowed eyes. Hange looked back, still grinning.

"Is it a new coat?" Porco asked, interrupting their staring contest. "It's nice."

"You've got the wrong size," Pieck commented. "It's too small on you."

"Ah," Hange scratched the back of her head. "It was the last one."

"Hm," Pieck finally looked away. "We should go. The faster we deal with the job, the better."

"Aw, you don't want to spend more time with me, Pieck?" Hange nudged her in the side. "And here I thought we were becoming friends..."

Pieck sighed, shifting her gaze to Porco. "Bye, Pock. Talk to you later."

Then she started walking and Hange had no choice but to follow.

"So," she began, falling into step with her. "What Zeke wants us to do?"

"Check some of the local businesses, demand the protection money, threaten if they refuse. The usual stuff."

Hange let out a barely audible sigh. She hated this kind of work the most. Looking into the pleading faces of helpless owners, taking from them more than they could give - it was the worst. She still had to do it, though. She had to keep her cover. At least, today Floch wasn't her companion. Pieck, as sarcastic as she was, was a much, much preferred partner.

"You're spacing out again," Pieck's bored voice brought Hange back to present.

"Huh? I'm not."

"You've been doing it a lot today,” Pieck continued, ignoring her protest. “And you... you look happy. I don't think I've ever seen you smile so brightly before. Let's take a turn here," not giving Hange the chance to answer, Pieck grabbed her elbow, stirring her a bit to the left. "It's a shortcut."

"You really don't want spend more time with me than absolutely necessary," Hange noted with a grin. "Don't you enjoy our friendly banter?"

"I do," Pieck said, making Hange whip her head to stare at her. There was a small, bittersweet smile on her pretty face. "Truth be told, I'm going to miss it."

Blinking a few times, surprised by Pieck's words, Hange chuckled. "You're making it sound like I'm going away soon..."

"Don't you?"

Hange stopped abruptly.

"What are you trying to say, Pieck?" she asked, carefully observing her companion.

"I may not be as smart as you Hange,” Pieck huffed. “But I'm not dumb. I notice things too. Zeke's worst nightmare came to life, didn’t it? Your memories, they came back?"

"I—"

"And that means we're screwed, right? You'll take revenge on Zeke and us for lying to you."

"How?" Hange whispered, shocked by Pieck's perception. And here she thought she was so smart, so careful. "How did you find out?"

"It's in your eyes. Well, eye," Pieck sent her a sympathetic look. "It was confused before, lost. Now there is nothing but determination in your gaze."

"You've been staring at me a lot, Pieck," Hange teased, trying to clear the tense atmosphere. And mask her nervousness.

"That's my job."

"Does Zeke know?"

"No," Pieck started walking again, looking straight ahead. "And he won't know. Not from me at least."

"What?" Hange ran to catch up to her. "Why won't you tell him?"

"Because I understand," Pieck replied simply. "Because Zeke ruined your life, lied to you again and again, using your skills and intelligence. Because if I were in your place, I'd be filled with rage and desire to make him pay."

"I..." Hange swallowed a lump in her throat. "Thank you, Pieck. When— when shit hits the fan, I won't involve you. You'll be able to escape, I promise."

"Oi," Pieck smacked her arm. "I didn't tell you this because I wanted to get on your good side, weirdo."

"I know," Hange smiled. "I was going to do it anyway. You..." she faltered, pressing fingers to the patch on her face. "You've been there for me. You've helped me. You could have gotten in trouble with Zeke for that, but you still decided to help me. I won't forget that."

"Don't involve Porco," Pieck blurted out. "I know I'm asking for too much, but—"

"I get it," Hange cut her off. "Your safety won't mean a thing, if he's not safe too."

"I— yes," Pieck nodded. "You really get it."

More than you know, Hange thought, as an image of a certain scowling midget appeared in her mind.

"For how long have you known?" Hange she asked Pieck casually. "About me getting my memories back?"

"Almost a year."

So she figured her out almost instantly. Not bad, Hange decided with a weird sense of pride.

"And Zeke? He still hasn't caught up?"

That was weird. Zeke was exceptionally smart. Could it really be that he still didn't know?

"Maybe, he suspects it. But I think he doesn't want to believe it."

"How come?" Hange frowned. She was utterly confused. She always thought that if Zeke were ever to find out about her memory coming back, he'd deal with her instantly.

"Because he needs you. Don't sell yourself short, Hange," Pieck scolded. "You're valuable to us. More than you actually realize. You've been two years with us, and during this time we managed to keep ourselves completely below police's radar. Our profits raised, our gang became bigger and we found ourselves new allies. And all of it because of you."

Hange lowered her head, completely flustered. It was a while since anyone had praised her so. There was another thing she needed to know, though. She promised Levi she’d look into his case. And she needed to be sure. If Pieck was right and Zeke actually valued her, then...

"You said Zeke needs me, right? Would he listen to me? Does he value my opinion?"

Pieck knitted her eyebrows together. "Something happened," she didn’t ask, simply stated it. Hange was impressed with her more and more.

"Yes," Hange nodded. "While you and Zeke were on your trip abroad, two women were murdered."

"So? A lot of people die in this city."

Hange shook her head. "Not like this. The way these women were killed - it's obvious that someone is trying to set Zeke up," Hange didn't give to shits about Zeke, anyone who tried to get him behind bars was a friend. But they've taken two innocent lives. And they hurt Levi. She wouldn't let them get away with that. "If I tell him about it—"

"You'll have to tell him the truth then. About your memory coming back. It won't end well, Hange," Pieck warned.

"I know," If Zeke will find out about it, it'd destroy all of her carefully constructed plans. She was willing to take that chance, though. Her revenge could wait. "I won't be facing him alone. I— I'm planning on bringing backup."

"Backup?" Pieck repeated incredulously. "You'll have to find someone good, someone who would be able to make him reconsider killing you on a spot. Someone who can actually scare Zeke."

"Don't worry," Hange grinned. "I know just the guy."

And taking out her phone, she typed a short message.

Hey partner, wish to remember the good old days?

#what? me FINALLY posting a new chapter? it's more likely than you think :)#also i know that literally NOTHING happens in this chapter and they all just talk BUT #in the next one there will be more action #ANYWAY #feedback is appreciated <333 #levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #rivahan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #petra ral

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