#i''ve made this before but i need to get back into the swing of giffing

[cherrymotions]

#wearpedit #wynonnaearpedit #earpedit #earpwynonna #earpgifs #*gifs #*wyearp #show: wynonna earp #nicole haught #wynonna earp #i''ve made this before but i need to get back into the swing of giffing #also this cropping is god awful i'm sorry

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Disaster.

JAVIER PEÑA. ┃ NARCOS.

❝ words: about 1.8k

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language, soft Javi.

❝ summary: Never let Javier do the laundry.

❝ a / n: This is a writing for Javier that has four years or more, but I translated it to English. Dialogues are in spanish, but this work also contains the translations. As always, I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ❤.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST. ⎢ MULTIFANDOM TAG LIST.

The sunbeams through the curtains disturb your peaceful sleep, rolling tangled in the soft sheets to toss an arm over Javier's chest. But it falls over the cold mattress. Growling still not awake at all, you palm his empty side of the bed. Sitting up on your left arm, you glance through the door to the living room. No noise outside his dorm that makes you know he's still at his house. Lying on your back and tilting your head with a puff escaping your lips, your eyes land on a hand-written note on his nightstand waiting for you to be read. Kissing your lips, you stretch an arm to grab it. “Te quiero hablar sobre algo más tarde, me esperas, ¿sí? Te amo, pendeja”.

The first time he called you like that was the day you met him —or more precisely, the day you almost ran over him. You remember him with both hands on the hood of your car, screaming at you “¿qué pasó, pendeja? A caso, ¿no me vió?” You were focused on texting your boss, but when you raised your eyes and made eye contact both you and him fell for each other, a fact that surprised you when his partner told you he was a perro; every night with a different woman.

A goofy smile curves your lips, feeling yet the kisses Javier spread last night all over your skin, just hoping he has left some coffee for you when you decide to get up. Directing your steps to his wardrobe, fully naked, you pick one of his t-shirts impregnated with his heavenly smell to wear it. You don't have anything planned for today other than enjoying your free day and wait for him to come back, so when you see the mess his house is in your opinion, you settle on cleaning it.

After having breakfast como Dios manda, you start for the living room. Except for the documents and the archives from his job, you pick up all the trash around, before sweeping the floor and dust the furniture. Once it is done, you continue with the laundry. God, this man has clothes thrown throughout the house. Putting them inside the basket, you bring them to the kitchen, but you have to leave aside your task when you find the washing machine already occupied. You're starting to tremble. Javier is a disaster, and you don't need to be a genius to realize it. So, when you see a red shirt inside, mixed with your white clothes, you pray for everything you know.

Opening the small door, you confirm your suspicion.

“¡PUTA MADRE! ¡NO JODAS! ¡HUEVÓN MALPARIO'!”

(Shit! Son of a bitch!)

Music in Spanish sounds all around the house, with the kitchen as the epicenter. You're cooking something for dinner, wearing a short chiffon dress —that makes your legs stand out and that used to be white, now is some kind of pink—, stalling till Javier comes back. Oh, he's going to pay for what happened.

“¿Mi amor?” The front door gets closed while hearing his voice calling you. “¡Ya regresé! ¿Dónde te metis— whoa, whoa, whoa…”

(¿My dear? I'm back! Where are you?)

Your boyfriend stops in his tracks as his mouth drops to the floor. Taking off his aviator sunglasses, you find him ogling you with eyes widened. He gulps to wet his sore throat while licking his bottom lip.

“A ver, a ver… voltéate”. He whispers waving his index finger doing circle moves.

(Let's see, turn around).

In silence, you obey his petition in slow motion so he can delight with the views, drawing a gunny grimace on your face. When you face him again, he is crossing himself thanking God. Raising both eyebrows, you take some steps closer swinging your hips to provoke him a little more, having so much fun.

“¿Sí te gusta mi vestido, hm?”

(Do you like my dress, hm?)

He just nods his chin fascinated, not being able to speak.

“Está bonito, ¿verdad? Pero… pues más bonito estaba cuando era blanco”. You reply, lifting both arms at the sides of your body.

(It's beautiful, isn't it? But... It was perfect when it was white).

“¿Cómo así, mi amor?”

(What do you mean, my love?)

Javier doesn't understand what's going on when you practically drag him through the kitchen to the clothesline outside, pointing at your white clothes, now of a strange pink discolored, he has to swallow a giggle. Pressing his lips together, he scratches the bridge of his nose doing his best to not laugh.

“A ver, cuéntame el chiste. Así me río yo también”.

(Tell me the joke. So I can laugh too).

“¡No me estoy riendo!” He feigns to be offended raising his hands to his chest.

(I'm not laughing!)

“Seguro… ¿No es esa tu camisa favorita?” You ask making a soft and brief move with your chin.

(Sure... Isn't that your favorite shirt?)

Putting his brown eyes on the piece of clothing he's wearing, he doesn't have a chance to reply when you ruin it and all its buttons by a strong pull, making them fall to the floor. A proud grin curves your lips up, while Javier tries to babble something. But the response to your action is better than you could think.

Crashing his lips on yours, his fingers move faster than you can assimilate to undoing his belt and the zip of his jeans, as he devours your mouth hungry like a stray dog. His tongue fights yours in a battle for dominance, pulling down his clothes before forcing you to turn and face the counter. Javier ruins your thong as easily as you have ruined his shirt, causing you to moan when he obligates you to spread your legs for him.

Bending over the counter and sticking out your ass, hearing him jerking off his delicious cock, your boyfriend digs his hardness as deep as he can into your soaked cunt. You cry out his name inevitably. Javier spits an animalistic groaning onto your ear. It doesn't matter how many times you two have fuck, you always need a second to adjust to his length, but this time he doesn't give you the opportunity. Not losing time, he grabs your throat with his right hand whilst the other presses your body to the counter from behind. Javier rocks his hips furiously, back and forth, running out of air. Soon, your moans and your whinings fill the kitchen, as the dry noise his pelvis produces when it crashes your limits.

“Si querías coger… solo tenías que decirlo”. He hisses lost in the pleasure, thrusting you harder with every move.

(If you wanted to fuck, you just had to ask for it).

It's not like he's mad at you, it's more like he is trying to compensate you for what he has done. He knows to perfection how to worship your body, how to make you feel loved and desired; but he also knows to perfection that you prefer him to be rougher than gentle —pulling your hair, choking you, biting your neck, making you beg.

“Ah, Javi…”

“Sí te gusta que te… coja, ¿no?”

(Do you like how I fuck you, right?)

“Sí, sí… Más rápido, por favor… por favor”.

(Yes, yes... Faster, please... please).

Your right-hand wraps his wrist, securing a little more the grip on your throat before guiding his other to your legs, straight to your throbbing clit.

“Tan ansiosa, tan necesitada mi gatita”.

(So anxious, so needy my kitten).

His forefinger caresses your finger so softly that he could kill you, quite the opposite of his waist.

“Qué rico…” You gasp enraptured, arching your back and tilting your head to reach his lips.

The fight of your tongues continues, drinking each other's pleasing growls, while the pace of his finger increases too close to the orgasm.

“No pares… no pares, por favor”. You beg onto his mouth, trailing his lips after over your jawline down to your neck.

(Don't stop... don't stop, please).

Nailing his teeth causing you to whimper loudly, your legs start to tremble as Javier digs his twitching hardness into you once and once, not letting you breathe for a second and pushing you to the edge. You can't help but scream his name, just like he loves, feeling the tickles exploding within your belly and letting yourself go. Your boyfriend only needs some more pushes straight to your g-spot to come inside you with a delighted howl drown against your neck. His warm seed mixed with your wetness makes him sigh breathless, collapsing over your back as you need to rest your arms over the counter till recovering.

“Me vuelves loco, mujer”. Javier mumbles, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder before caressing it with the tip of his nose.

(You drive me crazy).

Slowly pulling himself out of your overstimulated cunt, stealing you a disappointed whining for the sudden emptiness, he puts on his clothes as you turn around to face him.

“Te ves bien bonita, así toda hecha un desastre”. His perfect and charming smile gives you goosebumps, leaning forward to you to pepper your lips with so much tenderness.

(You look beautiful just like that, messy).

“Qué chistoso”. You chuckle placing both hands on his neck.

(Very funny).

“¿Arrunche en la tina?”

(Cuddles in the bathtub?)

“Por favor”. You just reply before he lifts you on his arms in the most purest bridal style, making you laugh lively and satisfied.

(Please).

In barely a couple of minutes, your bodies are covered by warm water, relaxing every inch of them and making the tension disappear. Javier is lying back on your chest, smoking with both eyes closed as your fingertips gently roam his chest. You have missed him too much today, being something rare for you to not spend your days off together, but he has been through so much work lately.

“¿De qué me querías hablar?”

(What you wanted to tell me?)

“¿Hm…?” Expelling the smoke through his nostrils, Javier raises his chocolate eyes towards yours.

“La nota”. You add referring to the piece of paper you found this morning on his nightstand.

(The note).

“Pensé en que vinieras a vivir conmigo”.

(I was thinking that you could come to live with me).

That's it. No doubts. No questions.

“¿Vivir juntos? ¿Acá?”

(Live together? Here?)

“Sí, acá”. Javier says puckering his lips, moving his mustache funnily. “¿Qué tiene de malo, pues?”

(Yeah, here. What's wrong?)

“Nada, nada… Está bien, me parece chévere”.

(Nothing, it's okay, I like it).

“¿Te parece chévere?” He scoffs sitting up, turning his head towards yours.

(Do you —just— like it?)

“Sí, ¿qué pasó?”

(Yeah, what's up?)

“Pensé que… no sé… que estarías feliz”.

(I thought... I don't know... You'd be happy).

Raising your eyebrows not believing what he's saying, you roll your eyes moving your arms around his neck to push him back again.

“No seas pendejo, Javi… Estoy más que feliz”.

(Don't be an idiot, Javi... I'm more than happy).

Embracing him tightly to your chest, you sink your nose into his neck taking a deep breath from his scent, almost dizzying you.

“Mírate… de perro callejero a perro casero”. You chuckle close to his ear, biting softly his earlobe.

(Look at you... from stray dog to domesticated dog).

“Pendeja…”

#narcos #narcos imagine #javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña imagine #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal x you

[elles-writing]

Broken - Kili x reader

Summary: You being in love with Kili, but (thinking) him falling in love with Tauriel.

gif not mine

(A/N: It had to end up that reader dies/ends with someone else, buuut just no, because I don’t like Tauriel. She can end up with Bard or someone). After reclaiming Erebor, everyone can hear your wailing and crying all the time, but one day it stops. Kili decides to find you, after Fili tells him, and he finds you devasteded, not wanting him to come close to you or to even touch you. 

A/N: Woow, this got so long. I’ve just finished this up (this concept and a beggining was in my phone notes) and I am quite pround of it! Also, just a three more days of my summer job, can’t wait for it to be over, so I can watch The Hobbit and The Punisher nearly every single day (and write much more often)! I hope you’ll enjoy it cuz I’ve been writing and editing it over three hours and I’m both satisfied and tired af! And if you wanna be tagged, message me!

Warnings: Angst (a LOT of it), fluff

Taggs: @soradragon​

It was over. Your love for Kili, reclaiming Erebor - it was over. You were crying in your chambers, alone. Thinking what have you done wrong. 

You weren't a dwarf, you were a human and when Gandalf - old friend of yours - asked if you'd like to join, you just shrugged your shoulders. You had no husband, no children, so some andventure would be great. Little did you know that you'll find an amazing friends and later, to fall in love with one of them...

Only to have your heart shattered. 

You were crying and thinking of them two. They seemed to be happy. You'd never looked at them or listened if you didn't have to. You were jealous, broken, sad, angry and disappointed. 

It have been you whom was cleaning Kili's wounds, since your mother was a healer, it was him you were pulling pranks on Fili with, it was him who was comforting you whenever you were scared, him, who was teasing you, flirting with you, calling you flirty nicknames, such as 'goergous', 'princess' and 'beauty', teaching you about dwarves. Now, it was all gone. You were wailing and crying yourself to sleep, getting out of your chambers only if you had to. You forgot which day was, they all were the same anyway. You didn't cared if was day or night. Only if there was a rainy day, you'd opened up balcony doors. Rain was comforting you and making you to fall to calm, dreamless sleep. You would've maybe knew a lot of medicals, but none could help you with your issue. 

Little did you know how worried was Fili about you - his really good friend. He knew about your feelings for his brother, which was why he silently didn't approved his brother's choice. He and most of other dwarves heard wailing and crying every single night, but one night - it was full moon - there weren't any. It was a three days since the dwarves have seen you.

It was a three days since the dwarves have seen you and they all were worried. All the time someone would ask the same, simple question. 

"Where's the lass?"

But no answer would've come to him. As if you've never been there. Everything and everyone were quiet. No one would dare to bring up your name, favorite color, meal, anything. 

Kili was away to help to some dwarves whom needed help, and when he came back, Fili dragged his brother to a room where was Thorin, Balin and Dwalin already. Fili looked at his brother furiously. 

"It's all your fault, Kili!"

He screamed and Kili looked around, confused.

"Wha-what is my fault? What are you talking about, Fee?!"

"I'm talking about Y/N! That lass loved you and you broke her heart! She was crying herself to sleep, vailing she couldn't talk and now she haven't came out of her chambers for a days! It's your fault!"

Kili's mouth opened in surprise.

"I-where's she?"

Kili looked around as if you'd be sitting there with crossed arms on your chest, sitting in simple white dress, you've worn in Rivendell and he mercisessly flirted with you that evening, and looking furiously at him. As if he could hear your voice, echoing through his head. 'You've fucked this up this time, Kili. Really fucked up.'

Kili looked surprised.

"She-she've loved me?"

Fili fighted with the urge to slap his brother and roll his eyes.

"Yes, but you've found someone else, and she apparently wasn't really the type to not care.,"

He shook his head.

"I'm going to get her out of her chambers, so-"

Thorin stopped him by placing his hand on Kili's shoulder and shook his head.

"She's not there, Kili."

Kili froze and looked around. 

"We were trying to find her, but you know how she is - she won't show up until she wishes to."

Dwalin said with sadness in his voice. You were like a daughter to him.

"Then, I'll go and look for her under every leaf, 'till I find her."

He said and before anyone could've stop him, he was already out. Apparently, it took him a few hours. You were sitting up on a tree and crying and wailing. Kili quickly climbed up to you and sat near you, careful not to be seen or heard.

"Such a nice day, isn't it?"

Your cries and vails stopped. It was the first thing he've told you when you met.

"Leave me alone." Your voice was hoarse, but filled with coldness.

"I won't 'till you tell me what's going on." Kili folded his hands and stubbornly swinged legs. He wouldn't see you on the other side of the tree trunk, but he knew you were already planning on escape.

"Tell me what's going on, Y/N. We're friends, aren't we? You know you can tell me everything."

You froze and then slowly got up. And, as if you'd be an elf or a cat, you jumped on the other tree, and another and another. Kili have heard you, so he started following you. It took you almost an hour before you climbed up some tree to the higher point you could and started crying again. You thought that Kili stopped following you, but the truth was, he was sitting on the other side of the thrunk. You started whispering to yourself while drying out your tears, thinking he couldn't hear you. 

"He has his elf, why he's here? Why does he cares anyway? I was stupid, oh so, so fucking stupid."

Your body was shaking and Kili was cursing himself for making you to cry because of him. He thought he deserved to be slapped by Fili earlier, and a few more times after that. He quietly came closer and touched your shoulder.

"You know, the same things I thought when I've seen you with that elf in Rivendell." You flinched away and carefully stepped away.

"W-with Lindir? What? Why?"

"Because he was just...he was just..." Kili's face burned bright red. You smiled inside.

"What he was?" You asked, enjoying teasing him.

"He...he was...eh, smiling at you. And he made you laugh the way I do, when you laugh from your heart and it's honest and...and the most beautiful sound I've ever heard." Kili looked a bit embarrased to admit that.

You paused for a second.

"I want to eat chocolate...badly." you admitted.

"I want to eat a chocolate with hazelnuts." And quietly grinned. It was a phrase you've told to Lindir after talking of the dwarves at the dinner. He took you to kitchens and let you to eat as much chocolate as you wished to. That evening you've realized that Lindir was surprisingly a great friend.

Maybe because you've had some dinning customes.

And took a bath in your room.

He was showing you around and what made you laugh, it was the way his cheeks got pink when you've started talking about the very beginning of your adventure, in house of Bilbo Baggins. Maybe that was the moment when Kili showed around.

 Your smile froze, But it didn’t mattered now. Kili wasn’t in love with you,

You’ve turned around and started to climbing down the tree until you were down in record time. Then, you started running away.

You were faster than most of the dwarves were, simply because you were taller and maybe you’ve had some elvish blood, somewhere far in your family blood-line. Anyways, with your quick actions you’ve got at least little time ahead before Kili started running after you. You needed your time, but he have decided to be there with you. What was he planning on?

In a split of second, when you’ve turned around to see Kili almost behind your back, there appeared some branch and with your whole strength either your head or the branch made a terrible cracking noise. Then a strong wave of pain went through your body and fell apart down on the ground. Kili’s voice filled. with fear and worry, somewhere behind you screamed.

“Y/N!! NO, DON’T, PLEASE-” He hurried towards you and kneeled down. He took your head, placed on his lap and you could feel how he was shivering, his hands were shaking.

“Y/N, can you hear me? P-pleas-e, ans-wer t-to m-me, p-ple-a-se!”

Your vision was blurry, black dots appearing everywhere, but you’ve noticed that Kili’s face was glittering. Glittering with tears. He is crying, you thought.

“P-plea-se, d-don-don’t y-you d-d-are t-to lea-ve me,” He was shakily praising you, resting his forehead on yours. You weakly smiled.

“I love you, Kili.” And single tear dropped down from your eye, making it’s way on your cheek to corner of your mouth, falling unconscinous.

His heartbreaking scream would probably hear Thranduil, no, even hobbits in Shire, yet he didn’t cared. He slowly picked up your body in his arms and rushed towards Erebor, screaming on top of his lungs to get a help, to get a healer.

You’ve woken up with a terrible headache. There were some voices around, but everything was as somewhere beyond a veil. After a while of adjusting, you recognized that they were at least three and what they were saing.

“You were quick, Kili. Thanks to you, she survived.” Then there was another one, hoarse, as if he’d be crying for past few hours. And then, you were standing next to bed, looking at them - Balin, Kili, Thorin, Fili, Dis and few others - with no signs of smiles in their faces. They were sad, so sad. Grief over you in their faces.

“B-but she hav-ven’t woken u-up y-e-t...” Kili said. Thorin patted his shoulder, his face having sad expression, trying to not to cry along with Kili.

“You’ve saved her life. You know how stubborn she is. She’ve survived the battle of five armies...she can do this.” Kili shook his uncle’s hand off his shoulder and looked over on your pale face, bandages on your forehead, covering a huge wound you’ll have probably a huge scar afterwards. He knew how deep it was... Deep enough that you’ve lost a blood before he was able to bring you here...It was all his fault...only his, he thought, over and over again, and fell on his knees next to your bed, honding your hand as if it would be the most important thing in his life that was keeping him alive, crying again and burrying his face to his hand.

“What have I done to you, Y/N, I’ve hurted you so so much...I’m the biggest idiot in the whole Middle-Earth...you were dying because of me, and now I don’t even know if you’ll ever wake up...” He sobbed and looked over at your face with that weak smile, eyes closed as if you’d be in a very sweet and deep slumber.

“If-if you can hear me now, I just want to say that I want you to wake up...I know I’ve hurted you so much...and I words cannot even explain how much sorry am I...b-but...maybe...maybe we could start...start again? You know, I’ll give you everything, as much chocolate as you wish, I’ll be with you when you’ll decide if you want to stay or...or you can leave Erebor, i-if that’s wh-at you wish...I’ll understand.” He sobbed again and you’ve noticed that there was only you and him, everybody else left Kili to tell you what he truly felt.

“B-but if-if you’ll leave, I-I wa-want you to know...that if there’ll be someone who-who will break your heart, I-I’m gonna kick their ass, because you deserve the best...and write me please...if you’ve married,” he was almost choking on his words.

“...if you have kids...” His voice broke and you’ve sat down next to him. Then a strong desire to comfort him, a wave through your body, and you were pulled away.

You’ve opened your eyes, feeling your left hand in a strong grip and wet. You groaned on the bright light everywhere and hoarsely said.

“If you’ll keep talking like that about my life, I’m going to slap you so hard even Bilbo in Shire will hear it.” Kili’s head was immediately up.

“You-you’re-you’re awake?!” If you wouldn’t be so weak, you’d laught at his high-pitched, excited voice. Before you could even blink, he was hugging you tightely.

“K-Kili, not t-that much please,” You whispered and he immediatelly loosened his grip, but started kissing your face, laughing.

“You’re-you’re awake! I’m so happy, I-am I dreaming? If yes, I don’t wanna wake up-” you’ve laughted.

“No, you’re not.” This time, Kili was crying out of happiness.

“FILI! AMAD! THORIN! DWA-” You’ve silenced him with a kiss on lips. He was surprised at first, but eventually, he melted in and kissed you back.

When everyone came in, they’ve seen that scenery of you and Kili in heated kiss, and Dis cleared her throat. Everyone’s amuzed smiles were immediately lighting up the room when you and Kili quickly pulled away.

Everyone was hugging you and you happily sighed. They were your family. A huge family you’ve loved so much.

When they left you alone late at night, Kili’s head was still resting on your lap, him playing with your thigh-long hair.

“I really meant what I’ve told you. I-I love you, Y/N,” He said for a thousand time that day. You leaned in and kissed him. When you pulled away a bit, you whispered to his lips.

“I love you too, Kee. But...why did you were with Tauriel all the time...before?” You tried to sound as casual as you could, but you’ve always been bad at pretending and lying.

“Well...I, uh, since she was the only...uh, woman I could ask this...I was asking of a human courting rituals. Because I’ve never told you about the dwarvish ones, I-I just...I just wanted you to know...right away.” You sweetly smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Oh, Kili, Kili, you are such a dumb master dwarf,” you giggled.

“Hey, I was nervous and afraid of rejection! And I’ve almost kicked that elf’s ass back in Rivendell.” You giggled again.

“I don’t think that’d made lord Elrond really happy.” He grinned.

“You’re right. But it’d be definetely worth it.” You thought for a moment.

“What is dwarvish courting ritual?” Kili looked on your hair in his hands.

“Braiding hair. I wanted to ask you to braid your hair back before...this happened. Four days ago.” He gestured to your head.

“So, are you going to start your I’m-so-sorry-for-everything-that-have-happened-speech or just finally braid my hair? I have a lots of it.” You gestured to them. Kili’s eyes lightened up and he squialed. He was right away sitting behind you and braiding your hair. You smiled to yourself and let yourself relax under his touch on your hair.

When you’ve married, you wouldn’t be happier. Kili was wonderful husband, and even more when you’ve found out you were with child. He was overprotective so much, you were surprised he’d even let you to walk a few feet away from him.

When your first baby was born - a son - he was crying out of happiness. He was so proud on both of you that you were healthy, and when a few years after came a daughter, his world seemed even more complete, as if it was only this way right. He couldn’t imagine not to have this life without you, or that you’d have it with somebody else.

Your babies were growing and he’ve taught them shooting a bow, how to fight with sword and an axe and daggers and a few other things. When they were old enough to understand, he’d tell them of his and your’s adventure, both with the Company and your love-story.

Tauriel was like an aunt to them, she was happily married to one elf from Rivendell’s guard. You’ve slowly got friendly with her, especially when yours and Kili’s children were loving her as an actuall family member.

They’d often be chatting with her, and one day, they’ve told her of a small bump on your stomach, which was slowly getting visible and they couldn’t wait for their sibling...

#kili x reader #the company #the hobbit fanfiction #the-company-x-reader #kili-x-reader

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Two, “Music To My Ears”

*Gif is not mine*

Clickable Links:

- *NEW* Becky Magazine Cover from an O.C. Tag Challenge

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: None

Music Inspo: All My Love by George Ezra (click to listen)

                                      SNEAKYYYYYY PEEK

It all feels surreal and so quickly, seeing him there dressed to the nines in another handsome suit. He’s back, and he’s all mine. I don’t quite know how we’re going to do this whole thing, but I can’t fucking wait. I’m unsure of how different it will be at the firm and as his mentee, but I know we’ll make it work. After the last few years of shit we’ve went through, this seems like a piece of cake, or so I hope.

“Morning,” I almost whisper, wishing I was threading my arms around his middle right now and not standing across the room. Instead, they sit flat against my front, hands clasped at my waist. His shiny brunette curls tickle his temples when he looks up fast and over to me, the light of a thousand suns filling his face.

“And so, when a person meets the half that is his very own, then something wonderful happens: the two are struck from their senses by love, by a sense of belonging to one another, and by desire, and they don't want to be separated from one another, not even for a moment.”

― Plato, The Symposium

+

My first attempt is measly, but by the second time, I get it open despite my wildly trembling fingers. The sigh I had been coaxing to remain inside of my lungs finds its way out at last when the door clicks! into the hinges. The blissed out smile I can’t remember being without sticks to my lips as my back graces the door. Somehow, the air inside here smells even sweeter as the fireworks still ignite within my chest. 

I’m only brought back to the present when I hear somebody clear their throat. Opening my eyes, I find Skye waiting on the couch with her knees brought to her chest. 

“So?! That was a long fucking time to be standing out in the hallway just talking, Rebecca Holte!” Skye exclaims with an eagerness filling her cheeks with crimson. 

All that escapes my lips is the happiest laugh I’ve felt my insides flourish in as long as I can remember. Her eyebrows raise with a question posed to me, and I answer it with a mere nod that causes her to shoot out of her seat and over to me. 

“Ree, finally!” she almost screams, and I echo it with my eternal laugh, relaxing into her arms. 

“Yeah . . finally it’s all coming together.”

I have just enough time to recount the details of the event to her in all of its glory. As if on cue, my ‘You’ve Got A Friend In Me’ ringtone begins to sing from my pocket. 

“Ooooo, is that him already?! You better answer it, Ree!” Skye exclaims with eagerness to her voice. The blush finds its way back to my cheeks as I escape with a cheek kiss from her, my feet soon padding down the hallway. 

“Wow, you actually mean it when you said you would call.”

“Why, o’ ‘course I meant it, bug. I always keep me promises,” Harry hums in return, just the sound of his voice launching my heart into somersaults. 

“I see that . . thank you,” I mumble, closing my door behind me softly, in order to deter Skye from eavesdropping anymore than she already is. 

“Can I say sumthin’ weird?” he murmurs, voice sounding far away almost. I blame that discrepancy on his phone paired to his car by Bluetooth, making him feel all the more far away from me. 

“Sure, I like weird. I mean, I like you.”

“Wow, good flirtin’ there, Ms. Hotshot. ‘m really feelin’ all tha love,” Harry titters until it wanders into a soft sigh. He clears his throat and a nervous laugh follows, pulling me to attention. 

“Oh, why thank you . . But, go ahead. What is it, Harry?” I return, falling onto the messy covers of my bed, exiled outfits littering the surface. 

“I already miss you, bug. Hasn’t even been ten minutes and I bloody miss you,” he confesses gently, a sad giggle adorning his words, echoing those that sit within my heart. 

“You’re not the only one, Harry. I miss you too. If we’re gonna be honest with each other, I missed you so much last week, and even more those seven months we didn’t talk, and-” I reveal into my phone, and then into his ears. The anxiousness falls away at my confession, one I’ve been coaxing to remain within my own ears for far too long. I had hinted at it and said it with my lips, but it feels so freeing to finally let the words loose to the world. To him.

My Harry. 

“Tha year afta ya quit . . I know. I missed you like hell durin’ all o’ those times too, it tore me up bein’ away from you,” he continues, pulling the words from my mouth where they leave to inform his ears. “And I want us t’ be honest with each otha, Becks . . Always.”

“I thought I’d never stop missing you during all of those times. And now, here we are,” I say, an ironic and yet happy laugh filling his ears. 

“Yes, here we are, bug. Togetha . . ‘s ‘bout fookin’ time,” he giggles, and like he always has been able to do, he pulls one from my lips with the help of his contagious happiness. “So, back t’ happier things . . Erm, what’re ya doin’ on Sunday?” 

“Eh, probably just watching FRIENDS in my pajamas.” 

“Mmm, I admit that sounds like a ratha wondaful Sunday. Why dontcha come ova t’ mine and watch FRIENDS in yer jammies with me? ‘ll even put on me jammies too,” Harry suggests, further proving that this can actually get better. I didn’t think that was possible.

No, I did not after that incredible first kiss, and second, and third. 

“That sounds amazing, Harry. I’d love to see you in your ‘jammies.’”

“Yers too, bug. ‘d like t’ make dinna fer you, as well,” he continues, knocking me off of my feet once again. 

“Aww. That would be so awesome, Harry! Hey, can you make your chicken pot pie? That pic you sent me from the last time you made it looked so yummy.”

“‘Course, ‘d love t’ make it fer you,” he giggles, the tell tale sounds of traffic accompanying his words. I hear a train toot its horn in the distance, and the rhythmic clicking of his indicator. 

“Okay, great, and I’ll bring dessert.”

“Sounds great, bug. I can’t wait, Sunday can’t come fast enuff,” Harry says, the purring of his engine filling the background. 

“I couldn’t agree more.”

His adorable laugh graces my ears, somehow being too long since the last time I had heard it, “How does 5 sound?” 

“It sounds like a date,” I chirp happily, wondering for the hundredth time if the words that are coming out of my mouth are indeed real. 

Real, they are, sister, the demon living inside the walls of my skull chimes. 

Where ever did you run off to? I reply. 

I’ve been here the whole time, mate, just watching and waiting. I’m usually not big on love, but holy shit, are you two adorable. Go on, now. You’re interrupting my entertainment. 

You stop interrupting! the angel groans back. 

“Hey, ‘m s’posed t’ say that part ‘coz ‘s my date! I said ‘d get tha second date,” Harry pouts from my ear, and I wonder if I’ll ever stop laughing. The better question is if I’ll ever stop smiling. I don’t know the answer to that one, and I think I’m okay not knowing. 

I wonder if I’ll ever stop loving him, and to that question, I already know the answer.

“Oh, sorry,” I chuckle hard now, fueled further by the sound of his clucking tongue, muttering a sarcastic ‘fer God’s sake, Becks.’ “Let’s start over.”

“‘Kay . . How does 5 sound?” he snickers, feigning composure in his voice when it’s needed most. 

“I’ll be there!” 

“Great, it sounds like a date then,” he titters, and soon our laughs mingle together, forming a duet. 

I thought my favorite song in the entire world was his laugh, but now, I think I may be wrong.

+

Surrealness blankets my body like a cloak, invisible, and yet all around me, as I stand in front of that door. The handle of the cloth bag digs into the crook of my elbow while the cold seeps in through my coat. I only grow colder when my fist raises once more, but it falls with a defeated sigh. Fear joins the other emotions fighting for the stage inside of me, and it nearly debilitates me with every second that passes. 

At last, my fist meets the muted scarlet red surface of his front door. A faint ‘c’min!’ sounds from the other side, causing my heart to gallop quicker inside me. A shaky exhale drops from my lips just before I swing the door open, and am met with the comforting smells of home cooking. I see him before he sees me, and the sight itself takes away the anxiety I’ve felt all day for this moment. For tonight. You’d think I’d have been more nervous for the first date than the second date. Nope, here I am nervous as can be standing in the doorway of his home, a bundle of nerves. 

Harry couldn’t look more adorable, or handsome, kneading his bottom lip while steam wafts along his face. Adjusting the yellow tea towel strewn over his shoulder, he closes a cookbook before his eyes dart over to me. His lips injected with golden sunshine reach his ears and the dazzle returns to his eyes dripping with green. 

“Hey, bug,” he hums, setting down the towel on the counter. The concoction of onions, herbs, and chicken tickles my nose while my heart races just at the sight of him. It does a few dances at the memory of our last date, and just how it ended. 

“Hi, Harry. It smells incredible in here,” I say, greeting him. After closing the door, I toe off my shoes to sit on the mat by the door. 

“Thanks, babe. Dinna’s all ready, I jus’ took tha pot pie out a few minutes ago,” he grins, coming to a stop in front of me with that sunshiney smile. The cover of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumors’ album dons his cream shirt in black and white. His long legs and bum tempt my thoughts in the form-fitting black joggers he wears. 

“Hey, you’re not wearing pajamas like you said,” I tease when he pulls me into a hug, feigning annoyance when that’s something I could never feel in this moment. 

“Neitha are you, li’l one. I can’t wear bloody jammies on a second date, ‘s far too soon. I still gotta make a good first impression,” Harry replies, the joking words brushing against my temple. Laughing, a shiver courses across my body but soon disappears once his arms settle to hold me against him. 

“I think that’s pretty far gone, that first impression thing,” I counter playfully, hesitantly removing my face from the crook of his neck to find his playful eyes waiting for me. 

“Doesn’t hurt t’ try, bug,” he giggles, and no matter how much I adore the sound, I can’t stand it any longer and steal it away with my lips. A similar giggle of my own is muffled against his lips that taste like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. They taste like him, I realize silently and happily. 

Our happy sounds mingle together while his lips mold against mine. They grow especially when he struggles to remove the bag from the crook of my arm, belatedly setting it down on the floor, allowing me to wrap both arms around him. The point of my nose dances across his prickly cheek when I pull away just slightly to surround his top lip with my own. The feeling of his prickly upper lip surprises my own, and leads my hand to caress his cheek. Smattering of vanilla sticks to his skin in spots while his warm breaths brush against my skin. The thrumming of my heart grows when I feel the lukewarm metal of his rings against my lower back, and then wandering in my hair. 

The feeling of his pillowy, soft lips are a thing of the past when he pulls away with a titter against mine. A soft question tumbles from my lips but he doesn’t answer it, instead pressing a whispery peck to my lips that still crave his. 

“Missed you,” he rasps, my skin igniting with sparks when his soft thumb pulls my bottom lip down, only to spring back. 

“I missed you more,” I argue and his cherry lips fall into disbelief. 

“Hey, that’s my line!” he exclaims, and I only laugh, realizing the trick I pulled. His happy song soon ghosts over my face, trailing behind his nose that draws a line against my cheek. “My Becks,” he coos in a whisper, ending his sentence with a punctuating kiss to my temple. 

“Harry . . My Harry,” I echo, accentuated by my hand running through his hair that is especially curly today. 

“‘m all yers, babe, have been fer longer than ya know,” he agrees aloud, escaping to the crook of my neck where his lips leave whispers below my ear and up my neck. 

The words themselves make my heart swell with what else other than love. It finds its way past my lips in a happy chuckle against his hair, and in another kiss pressed to his sunshine lips once he’s looking at me again. 

The temptation of one-upping him escalates within me, but I resist, unable to make a joke in this second. No, not after what he just said and the echoing words bubbling up inside of me. 

“I never could be anything but yours, Harry, it’s always been that way,” I smile, welcoming the truth and reality laced throughout my voice. The words resound in my heart louder, spreading throughout my body as I observe them fill his ears. A glow claims his eyes and then his lips, the dimples in his cheeks threatening to never leave. 

“You’ll neva know jus’ how happy ya make me, Becks, and how much ‘s magnified jus’ in tha last few days, bug. Yer me favourite person all ova again,” Harry mumbles in between blissed out smiles, one I haven’t had the pleasure to meet yet in all of our times together. No, I don’t think so. Spoiled, I am. “Let’s go eat dinna, bug. We can kiss mo’ later,” he rasps against my cheek, stealing one more kiss from my grinning lips. I nod, listening to his breathy laugh that I missed more than I realized while he was gone. 

My hand falls into his naturally, and he gives it a firm squeeze. Here he is, back with me, and he’s everything I’ve always wanted. This, is everything. 

“You’ve always been my everything, you just didn’t know it. Sometimes, I forgot it too,” I confess in a mere whisper, words interrupted soon by his. I only wish I had the courage that he does to speak them, loud and proudly. 

“What was that?” he mumbles, leading me over to the oval shaped wooden table on the other side of the kitchen island. 

“Nothing.”

“No, I heard ya say sumthin’, jus’ couldn’t make it out,” Harry insists, coming to a halt at one of the chairs. Luminescent moonlight trickles in from the almost closed drapes on the sliding deck doors opposite of us. Shaking my head nervously, a dominant blush attacks his teasing cheeks. “Ya gotta tell me, bug.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” I joke, and a high-pitched scoff adorns his lips quickly. A giggle spills from my mouth to greet the air when he yanks me into his arms, fingertips assaulting my sensitive ribs. 

“Becks! Stop playin’ hard t’ get, li’l one. We’re past that now,” he exclaims, feigning authority, but I can hear the affability shining in his deep voice. Laughs explode from my lips until they slowly die away, finding safety where I always do, hiding my face in the crook of his warm neck. 

“Or are we?” I titter against the pulsing, freckled skin. My lips shake louder when another offended scoff greets the air, feeding my laughter only more. 

“No, we aren’t, ya brat,” he pouts, and any worries I had are dispelled when his nose tickles my hairline. “Now, why can’t ya tell me what ya said? I wantcha t’ know ya can tell me anythin’ in tha world, Becks . . Promise.” 

“It’s kinda scary to say,” I admit, wondering about these lengths I’ve suddenly gone to that he somehow jumped within moments. He soothes the worries with his long fingers doting stripes up and down my back. 

“Ya can tell me scary stuff too, bug. Anythin’ at all. Could neva be mad at you when ya make me so bloomin’ happy without hardly doin’ a thing.”

A breathy laugh graces my lips now, muffled by the place where his neck and his broad shoulder meet. He remains silent, and the only sound I hear is that of his rhythmic breathing that does wonders for relaxing me in this crazed moment. His lips feathery against the top of my head do it for me, unraveling the ribbon that tied my not-so-secret together. 

“You’ve always been my everything, Harry . . you just didn’t know it, but I did,” I admit, taking my time enunciating every word into the confines of him. 

“‘ve always wondered, Becks, think it was coz ya’ve been me everythin’ longa than I can rememba,” he comments, taking my breath away with little to no effort, something he’s entirely too good at as of recently. “Thank you, babe,” he finishes adamantly, moving away and in the process, drawing my eyes upwards and towards his captivating greens. 

“Thank you, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“‘ve wanted it mo’,” he giggles, and I ruffle a hand through his hair to mess it up. 

“Stop it with the one-upping! You ruined the sentiment, Styles,” I exclaim, mouth falling into an exaggerated pout. His laugh disappears quickly, soon brushing my ears when it’s his turn to dive into my neck. ‘Sorrys’ meet my ears and are soon reciprocated with ‘okays’ and a squeeze from my arms around his middle. 

“But I do mean it, Becks. It wasn’t love at first sight really, but bloody hell, ya sure roped me in fast when ya wouldn’t take me shit. Ya became me best friend befo’ I knew it was happenin.’ I knew ya were sumthin’ different altogetha, I jus’ realized it too late,” Harry confesses softly below my ear, and for the first time since noticing those sad songs on his phone, sorrow wrenches at my heart. I had forgotten what it had felt like, the seeds of our relationship finally growing within my heart that’s been filled to the brim with happiness all of a sudden. “You neva once stopped bein’ me everythin’, Rebecca Ann Holte . . I neva wantcha t’ fo’get that . . ‘m sorry if I eva made ya feel othawise . . ‘m so bloody mad ‘bout you, and I can finally tell ya all ‘bout it.”

The right words escape me, like they so often do, a quality he luckily doesn’t possess, especially after everything he just said. Instead, I leave my hiding place wrapped up in safety, and press at the back of his neck until my lips are against his. 

“Mad ‘bout me as well, are we?” Harry asks, the question dancing across my lips in between kisses. 

A joke sits on my lips, ready to fire, while the shocks of caramel glow in his sage irises. Multitudes of feelings consume my words and pump me full of happiness, all thanks to the face I finally get to melt at the sight of. The face I finally get to call all mine, and cover with kisses too. I don’t know which is better.

“More and more every day,” I admit at last, letting the reaction unfold on his face framed by dark facial hair. No longer is it just stubble, and the realization excites me, leading me to wonder what he’ll look like with a proper beard. 

Quickly, the anticipation grows and then settles, resting assured that I'll get to be there to see it happen. I’ll get to see so much of his life happen, and get to share mine with him as he stands at my side.

“Couldn’t have said it betta meself,” Harry grins, planting one last kiss on the very tip of my nose. “Let’s go have some dinna and watch FRIENDS, Boops.”

+

“Ya really can’t disappoint me when it comes t’ baked goods, y’know that? Oh, and if they’re chocolate, that too. Yer really settin’ tha bar high here, Becks.”

“Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?” I say, turning my palm up in question that dissolves with the same happy sound that surrounds his lips. 

Shrugging his shoulders, another bite of the chocolatey bread passes his rosebud lips. The sounds I make only grow louder at the fake crying expression claiming his face, “Means ya gotta keep bakin’ me stuff, and bloody hell, mo’ o’ this chocolate banana bread, please. Two o’ me favourite things in one right here.”

“You can keep the loaf, Harry. I have another at home.”

“Oh, so when I run outta mine, I can jus’ come ova t’ yers and help finish that one off then?” he questions, licking streaks of chocolate from his thumb.

My God, you’re such a fucking tease, Harry.

Chill it, would you?

Who? Him or you? the demon chuckles

Fuck, probably both.

“Sure,” I respond, eyes following his long figure that leaves my side to wander to the kitchen. “You can come over anytime you want . . How does Tuesday night sound? I’ll make you dinner, and there will be more chocolate banana bread for you.”

“And mo’ watchin’ FRIENDS in our not so jammies with wine and loads o’ blankets?” he hums from the kitchen, the sloshing of a liquid into a glass following his words. 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good, ‘ssa date then,” Harry chimes, returning to the sofa to slip underneath the multicolored quilt I’m tucked underneath. “A third date.”

“Whiskey now too? I thought you liked the wine,” I laugh, confused after my eyes had danced over to him where he sips from an old-fashioned glass. 

“I do, but ‘s not strong enough. Plus, ‘s yer Rebecca wine that I didn’t wanna drink all up.”

“What are you talking about, Harry?” I chuckle, scooting closer to him after he mumbles something I can’t hear.

“‘m nervous ‘round you,” he says again, louder this time before the amber liquid passes his lips once more. His eyes remain staring forward at the television where Monica and Rachel argue in the apartment. 

“You are too?” I wonder aloud, ever so softly, but there’s just enough volume in my voice to pull his eyes over to me. A nod fulfills his words while one corner of his mouth lifts slightly, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Surprise, surprise. “Why are you nervous? You’ve been so much fun all night, and the food was wonderful.”

“Why d’ya think? New relationship jitters - I don’t wanna mess anythin’ up,” he confesses shyly with a short smile overflowing with conflict. 

A ‘hey’ plummets from my lips without permission as I scooch closer to him, closing the distance until there’s no more steps I can take. My arm winds around his bicep, my other hooking my finger under his chin to get him to look at me. 

“You’re not going to mess anything up, that’s my job,” I tell him adamantly, pleased at the sound of his smallest of laughs. “I’m nervous too, like all of the time. I don’t want to screw this up either, but I’ve spent so many years wanting this with you - to be sitting on your sofa together at your house watching FRIENDS laughing together, and getting to kiss you, that I’m not just going to sit here and let it get the best of me. You shouldn’t either, Harry,” I tell him, my hand finding its way to him unsurprisingly. 

He leans into my hand that caresses his cheek, the pad of my thumb moving back and forth over his abrasive stubble. A ‘but’ jumps from his lips, but I don’t let any others follow when I place my lips on top of his. 

“Ya always know what t’ say, dontcha, bug?” Harry coos, flitting his eyes to mine under the shelter of his dense eyelashes.

“I thought you had that claimed, not me. That’s something you have to teach me. I swear, you have a way with words.”

“Dunno whatcha yer talkin’ ‘bout, love,” he tuts, shaking his head as he pulls me against his side, arm winding around my shoulder. 

“Look at that, you got the first ‘arm around the shoulder.’”

“No duh I did, ‘s tha man’s job,” he jokes, voice contorting into a deeper one that leaks with humor. My head heavy with dreams falls to his shoulder, and my hand strays to his chest. 

His hand brushes against my cheek, yanking my attention away from the show and to his patient eyes. He winks at me, followed by dipping down to press a kiss to the top of my head. 

“Alright?” I pose to him, taking a page from his book. 

“Can’t rememba tha last time I felt this ‘alright,’” he answers, the smile trickling into his eyes. “And you, bug?”

“I’m more than alright,” I comment, letting my eyes fall shut when he bumps his forehead against mine affectionately. A content sigh of mine, the first in a long time, tickles his chest as he falls back against the cushions. His fingernails leave zings of electricity among my arm underneath the fabric of my jumper, and soon they shoot across my head when his chin comes to rest there. 

“Which one ‘s this ‘gain?” he hums from above me, the words rumbling through his chest. The thum...thum of his heart resumes underneath my ear, and I feel as if I could fall asleep right here and now. 

“The One with the Candy Hearts,” I answer after pressing a button on the remote, hearing an ‘mmmm’ from his lips. 

“Could eat you up like a candy heart, yer so bloody cute,” he titters with words pointed at me, and I echo his happy sound. “Fook, it feels so good t’ finally get t’ say all tha cheesy flirtin’ rubbish I want t’ ya, Becks.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” I murmur chuckling, words soon stolen away by a yawn that ends with a smile when he scatters kisses along my cheek. 

“Don’t fall asleep now, bug. I might jus’ continue watchin’ tha rest o’ tha episode without you, like a certain sumbody I know,” Harry jests playfully, the most perfect sound igniting sparks across my cheek where his words land. “‘m kiddin. If ya need some shut-eye ‘s okay, ‘ll tell ya what happened when ya wake up, bug. I wouldn’t leave me favourite person out like that, not eeva.”

“Thanks,” I giggle, allowing my hand to stray to a chestnut ringlet that tickles his forehead. It draws his attention to my touch, and next, I find his green eyes with my own. “Harry, I have a request.”

“Ya, li’l one?” he hums in response, quirking an eyebrow in accompaniment. 

“After the episode is done, can we listen to some of your old records and paint each other’s nails?” I pose, the nerves peaking through in my voice. The approval pulls his lips up towards his cheeks once again, and I truly don’t think I could ever get sick of that smile.

Never, ever. 

“‘d love that, Becks. ‘ll hafta play some o’ me favourites fer ya.”

Sometimes, like in this very moment, I can’t remember there ever being a time when you stopped being my favorite person. There certainly were times, but they seem like other realities now, especially now that I know there’s no possibility that it could ever stop being you, Harry. It has always been you, and it will continue to always be you.

My Harry.

+

The sight in front of me still manages to baffle me, and it throws me for a further loop when I press my lips to her temple. She lets me, with the smallest of smiles gracing her blush lips. At times, it all feels like I’m in one of my dreams, until I realize that I indeed am living one of them. 

It’s about fucking time. 

Chandler and Joey bicker about something on the telly, but try as I might, I can’t get myself to focus on it. I didn’t miss a beat during the last episode, but now with the whiskey and wine coursing through me, the fear has fallen away. Her skin is warm against my lips, and the vanilla-orange blossom scent that she’s drenched in surrounds me. The easiest of smiles finds its way to my lips once again, and grows larger as I let my forehead meet her head.

“You’re supposed to be watching,” she whispers from below me, a soft amusement carrying her words. Opening my eyes, I find her long eyelashes flutter. Her scent trickles away when she moves her head, looking up at me curiously. The hint of a smile that’s been stuck to her lips ignites once again, keeping the fire alive within my heart. 

“What? ‘m good at multitaskin’,” I insist, knowing by now that we both can tell when the other is lying. 

“No, you aren’t. That’s why you get so little done on the days you bring your guitar to work,” Becks responds, widening her eyes a little at me to emphasize her words. 

“Rude,” I remark, but it’s stolen away by giggles. Hers and mine, and it might be the best sound I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. 

As the seconds tick on, I keep wondering when I’m going to wake up and the dream will be over. When I close the small distance between us, catching her lips with my own, I hope I never have to wake up. They’re like honey against my own, sweet and golden. The taste of her fills me and for what must be the tenth time now, her top lip tastes better than I could have ever imagined. It fits between my own like a jigsaw piece, affirming my notions I’ve had about this girl for years on end. 

Her decadent giggle grazes my ears when her ocean blue eyes fill my own again. I can’t help but join her, taking part in all of these things with her. I’m beside myself with how so goddamn right they feel. The smile that my lips haven’t been without for days now is mirrored on her own, the very pair that I’m still amazed I just got to kiss. The lips I’ve been dying to kiss for the last two, incredibly long, years. 

“What are you thinking about, thumbing at your lip like that?” she wonders aloud, my very favourite voice in this entire world. Cocking her head to the side, she stares up at me. The warmth inside of me spreads amongst my limbs, tingling at the end of my fingers where one of her dark curls wraps around it. Too much like the way she’s had me wrapped around hers ever since that very first day I called her ‘Becks.’

It was history after that, they say. 

“Jus’ rememba’d an old friend I ran into tha otha day. ‘s a story you’d like,” I respond, enjoying the way the light catches the dark and light flecks of blue in her irises. The Holte Blue Eyes, they appear to be, and I can’t stop myself from thinking what a child of mine would look like with those blue eyes. 

“Who’s that?” she smiles, tipping her head to rest on my arm wound around her shoulder. The pads of my fingers explore her back, drawing shapes over her too adorable olive green knitted jumper. 

“Alcott- Professor Alcott,” I answer, observing the connection echoing in her eyes. Nodding, her blues remain perked up at me. I can’t think of a better sight in this whole universe, and it brings happiness to my lips like she can do without hardly trying. “That day I ran into you at tha market, I saw him there right afta. I guess it was a good day fer run-ins with old friends.”

My subsequent out of place laugh pulls her natural eyebrows together in question, one that she soon vocalizes, “What’s so funny, Harry?” 

“‘s not so much funny as jus’ . . I dunno, ratha perfect,” I answer, and the happiness spilling from her lips is accompanied by a raise of her eyebrows. “When I saw him afta I spoke t’ yer class that one day, tha first time ‘d seen ya in almost a year . . I erm, asked him ‘bout you. I had no bloody idea ya were goin’ back t’ finish yer LLB, and so I was full o’ questions afta seein’ you in his class. He had all good things t’ say ‘bout you, big surprise, and there was this one thing he said that I never forgot ‘bout.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Becks says, almost on the edge of her seat at the revelation of my story. “Harry,” she giggles when I take too long to respond.

It doesn’t have anything to do with reluctance, but more so because of how fucked I am right now losing myself in her eyes. Those blues, my God. The thought continues to unravel, and my smile fills out at its discovery.

I really do hope that my children get to have those blue eyes of hers one day, they’re the most gorgeous color I’ve ever seen. 

“Sorry . . He said sumthin’ ‘bout you comin’ back t’ work at me firm once ya graduated. ‘Circle of Life,’ he called it, so it was funny when I ran into him at tha market. I was beside meself with glee gettin’ t’ tell him that you did indeed come back t’ work with me. He was happy t’ hear it and ‘s very proud o’ you, as am I,” I share, and the confession plants the dimple into her left cheek.

After all of this time, I think I’ve figured it out. I can only find it there when the happiness engulfs her, surprising her with its intensity, letting the dimple out of hiding. 

“And did you tell him?” she ponders, now getting all shy on me by averting her eyes. I don’t think I have much to complain about, seeing how she’s tracing the outline of a tattoo on my forearm. A ‘what’ whispers from my lips as the curl relaxes around my finger, and my hand wanders to her cheek, pulling her back to me. “That you had a crush on me?”

“I did, ya, but I don’t think that’s how I phrased it,” I chuckle, finding the redness in her cheeks that also sit in mine. “Don’t think ‘d call it that, would you?”

Her answer is sufficed by a shrug of her shoulders, and quickly I’m losing my lips in the brown freckles scattered across her neck. My name flies from hers in a titter as my arms surround her. 

“Hmmm?” I hum against her skin, finding the hollow below her ear with my eager lips.

“No, I guess I wouldn’t call it that, either,” she laughs, the words vibrating beneath my lips. Letting my eyes fall closed, I lean into her and feel her curl up against me. “It’s far more than that,” Becks says softly, carding a hand through my curls. Bringing me forth, I move away from her to find those ocean deep eyes sitting on me. An honor, indeed.

Bloody hell, what a fucking honor it would be if my children had that twinkle in their eye and that song in their laugh, too. As well as that one little cheek dimple, just like Becks.

I don’t even care at this point how carried away I’m getting.

“Sure ‘s, bug,” I murmur, my surroundings soon cloaked in darkness when her lips find mine. Her hair falls through my fingers like buttery taffy when it finds the back of her head. Her lips taste like strawberries and sunshine, and not even because of the wine. Specks of chocolate hide in them, surprising me with their sweetness, just like she keeps doing to me.

I may never get over how sweet my little bug is, and that’s just fine with me, because I finally have all of the time I want to get used to it. Although I’m unsure if it will ever be enough, I know that Becky undoubtedly is.

A laugh sputters from her lips, bringing an end to our kiss.

“What’re you laughin’ ‘bout, Rebecca?” I snicker, nudging my nose against hers, stealing another peck from her candy coated lips.

“First, you saying my name like that, and secondly, keep playing with my hair,” is all she says, joined by her head falling to my chest. The disappointment at the absence of her lips is short when I’m again amazed by how effortlessly she gets me going with her head on my chest.

“Why ‘s that funny?” I ask, keeping my word and letting her satiny waves run through my fingers. Glancing away, I find her eyes flutter closed against the fabric of my shirt. The weight of her on my front feels comforting, and so does this entire thing. It’s just comforting the mere fact of her being here with me, and in my arms.

I still have a hard time believing my eyes.

“You’ll see.”

A question knits my brows together as I giggle, combing my hand through the front of her hair until I reach its end moments later, sorting out the snarls. Her breathing begins to slow and her body stills against mine.

“Becks, dontch’u fall asleep on me, bug. Our episode isn’t ova quite yet,” I snicker. The champagne bubbles that have filled my insides over the last few weeks climb higher and higher when her lips mirror the action.

“I will if you keep playing with my hair.”

“Ah, so ‘ve found yer weakness, have I?” I reply, looking down and placing my puckered lips on the crown of her head.

“Mmmhmm, it’s always been able to lull me to sleep, and relax me. My dad always did it when I was little.”

“Noted,” I murmur against her hair, letting my cheek fall to rest atop her head. My arms sing when they embrace her, welcoming the familiarity they find.

“Doesn’t help that yer a proper li’l heater too, yer makin’ me wanna fall asleep now too, bug. ‘s only six-thirty,” I yawn, my eyelids growing heavy as she snuggles into me. 

“Then take a little cat nap with me, Harry,” Becks yawns, burrowing deeper into the hollow of my neck. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“‘Kay, ‘ll just shut me eyes . . fer a few minutes,” I drawl, knowing that the slow rise of her chest on mine will soon take me away into dreamland.

I don’t know what I could possibly dream about that’s better than this, though. Perhaps little dark haired babies with her blue eyes and dimples set into their cheeks, sat upon her lap.

Oh, please.

+

A feeling that I had hoped and dreamed years for, sticks with each step I take the next morning after getting off onto Seventeen. I haven’t been able to kick the smile that arrived on my lips the moment I parked my car, and my cheeks have only grown more tired since then. 

Like every other morning, he’s nowhere to be found. Missing in action. Although I sat at his side with his arm around me until nine o’clock last night, my heart aches for him worse than any other morning at work. 

I spend no time dropping off my own messenger bag in my office, along with my lunch and thermos of coffee. My heart speeds up its racing when I slip into his office searching for him to no avail.

I’m ready to throw in the towel until I remember his not so hiding place from last time, and once again, there I find him with a stack of papers in his hands. A smile winds its way up my lips at the sight of him pressing his lips together, creating comical popping noises. 

It all feels surreal and so quickly, seeing him there dressed to the nines in another handsome suit. He’s back, and he’s all mine. I don’t quite know how we’re going to do this whole thing, but I can’t fucking wait. I’m unsure of how different it will be at the firm and as his mentee, but I know we’ll make it work.

After the last few years of shit we’ve went through, this seems like a piece of cake, or so I hope. 

“Morning,” I almost whisper, wishing I was threading my arms around his middle right now and not standing across the room. Instead, they sit flat against my front, hands clasped at my waist. His shiny brunette curls tickle his temples when he looks up fast and over to me, the light of a thousand suns filling his face. 

“G’mornin’, bug. What’re ya doin’ all tha way ova there, huh, why’re you bein’ a stranger?” Harry grins, waving a hand over to me while the large copier makes whirring noises, taking his document away. 

A nervous laugh tumbles from me as I take slow steps over to him, unsure if the smile climbing his cheeks at the mere sight of me is true. 

I wonder if seeing is believing. 

“C’mere, ya slow poke,” he titters, holding out an arm towards me. Finally, my heart begins to slow down. It only truly does once my cheek touches his shoulder and our arms settle around the other. “Mornin’, my Becks. Sumbody looks tired, I see. ‘m sorry I kept ya up last night with our texts.” 

“It’s okay,” I yawn, tipping my head towards his eyes that await mine. “I had lots of fun talking to you about all sorts of things after I got home.”

“So did I, bug, so did I,” he agrees, leaving a whispery kiss on my forehead with his lips that smell of coconut chapstick. Hmm, I wonder if they taste like coconut too, and the budding thought stirs up a craving I’ve had for his lips since I woke this morning. “Don’t be fallin’ asleep on me t’day, tho’. We have work t’ do.”

“Hey, you stole my line!” I giggle, staring up at him through my lashes doused in a few extra coats of mascara. 

“Seems we’re even then,” he grins with a cheeky wink, earning a nod from me. The dimples remain in his cheeks marked by the stubble that I’m coming to like more and more, a sure surprise to me. “Ya look gorgeous once again, bug. There’s jus’ sumthin’ ‘bout ya in yer lawyer getup that gets me goin’,” he chuckles, the last few words muffled against my cheek. A blush rises on my own and I move ever so slowly until his lips are a breath away from mine. 

“Now you know how I’ve felt all of these years,” I admit breathlessly, the mere sight of him stripping the breath from my lungs. 

“Do I now, li’l one?” he teases, brushing the back of his finger against my cheek. His cheeks soon match mine with a warm pink that fills my eyes before he envelopes my lips with his own, finally. They’re smooth and pillowy against mine, and within moments, I taste the coconut chapstick coating them. 

The notifying bleep! of the copier nudges at my ears, but the sound of a voice outside the door pulls me away from his lips. A glint sits in his eyes when I find the courage to meet them before turning around. I’ve put only a few feet in between us when I hear the click! of the door opening, and Rose’s sing-song voice. 

“Are we hiding from our job in the copier room, again? If you’re doing it, then it must be okay for me to do it too,” she jokes, her fiery waves tickling the jade fabric of her long sleeved blouse. 

“Hey, don’t be puttin' words in me mouth,” Harry scoffs. With a new glossy black folder I found on the supply shelf, I turn around to find Rose rolling her eyes at him. 

“I don’t know how you do it spending every minute of every work day with him. Four hours, give or take, a week spent with him is enough for me,” she sighs jokingly, her words wrapped up with a wink. An amused smile curls at the edge of my lips as I face her, nervously tapping the folder against my thigh. 

“I don’t know how I do it sometimes, either,” I sigh, throwing up my hands in a shrug. 

“Hey, would you two stop gangin’ up on me? Bloody hell, ‘m yer boss,” Harry exclaims in utter disbelief, but by now I hardly have to listen for the tell tale signs of sarcasm in his caramel voice. I know that they’re already there.

“Oooo, I’m so scared,” Rose whines, yanking a laugh from my lips as she dunks a hand into the open box of pens on a shelf. “I swear, Myles nicks all of the good pens when they come in, it’s no fair.” 

“Maybe you could trade him some for your Styles and Lawson coffee mug,” I suggest with another laugh bubbling within my voice, soon joined by Rose’s loud laugh.

“Good one, Becky,” she chuckles, her long gold earrings dancing with her movements. “Have I told you yet that I’m glad you hired her again?” she poses to Harry with a smile. When I follow her eyes, I’m rewarded with Harry’s glimmering pair. No longer is a smirk waiting in them for me, but something else entirely, and it’s that very sparkle he let loose for me just a couple days ago. 

“I think ya have, once or twice,” he hums softly. “Can’t blame ya tho’, she’s a riot, alright. Pretty happy meself fer bringin’ her back.”

Oh, Harry, the things you can do to me with just a few words. And I know that you’re well aware of just that. 

“Those mugs, though. I don’t know, Myles must have ordered a hundred of them when the firm was born, because I get one every year for Christmas without fail,” Rose mutters, taking apart the empty pen box before tossing it in the recycling bin. 

“Don’t look at me, I tell him tha very same things - that they’re cheesy, tha font isn’t even right, and that we need t’ order new ones if he’s so keen on givin’ ‘em out,” Harry argues, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Yeah, keep talking, Harry. As if you’re not drinking out of one this very second with that shit-eating grin on your face,” she responds, and a laugh sputters from my lips without my approval. Harry’s eyes cast over to me and he shakes his head at me with narrowed eyes, over his onyx colored mug. It’s all for show, and soon he’s winking at me. 

“Good luck with spending forty hours a week with this one. I think you’re stuck with him, you poor thing,” she remarks, clucking her tongue as she slaps the pen against her palm rhythmically. 

“Yeah,” I huff, dragging my eyes over to Harry with a smile absent from my face. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it either, I’m stuck with him for a few years at least.”

“You better get out while you still can!” she jests with faux wariness injected into her voice. Laughing, she slips out through the door as my eyes fall to the floor. I try to hide the amused sounds escaping my lips, but I find them growing louder as his footsteps sound in my ears. 

“So, yer ‘stuck with me,’ are ya now?” Harry rasps from behind me. I nearly rise off the floor when his fingers dance along my sides, eliciting surprised shrieks into the air. 

“Harry!” I exclaim, goosebumps forming along my neck when his breathy laughs coast over the skin. “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

“‘m ratha happy ya are, y’know.”

“So am I. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I respond, spinning around to find his smirking lips once more. Unlike his, mine slowly plummet and too soon, I find his doing the same. 

“Neitha would I, bug, but . . how come ya don’t sound too sure o’ that?”

“I am, I don’t know what you mean,” I say, sheepishly. Not helping my case, my eyes fall to his hands. The typical rings don most of his long fingers dotted with dark hairs. I mingle my own with his by lacing ours together. 

“Y’know, ‘ve been able t’ tell when yer lyin’ fer years now, ya don’t have me fooled. You look away and don’t say much when yer lyin,’ they’re yer poker ‘tells’ . . .  Now, what’s tha matta, Becks?” he hums gently. A breath catches in my chest when the callused tip of his finger ghosts along my cheek, replacing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Becks?” he asks once more, and I hear it. I recognize it, because it’s the very emotion threatening to consume the happiness that’s been drenching my insides.

Fear. 

“How are we going to do this, Harry?” I question, finally lifting my eyes to his. “I don’t want this to sound bad, because I want this more than anything, so please don’t be upset. I-,” I try to explain, but he doesn’t give me the chance to continue. Unlike all of those times he stepped on my toes when I first met him, he’s doing a fine job of wishing those away with none other than his lips. 

His velvety aegean blazer is satiny beneath my fingertips when I gather the front of it into my palms, pulling him closer. I feel his smirk against my lips, but all too soon it’s not long enough and he’s pulling away. His dimples fill my eyes and next, those shiny green eyes consume my sight. 

“Jus’ like this, like we’ve been doin’. Behind closed doors, my love,” he mumbles, sealing the words with a soft peck. Those very two words send shivers down my spine, and zings of electricity right to my heart. “I wanna show ya off here, believe me I do, but at work I think ‘s betta if we keep it professional in front o’ e’rybody else,” he explains, and the second the horses leave the gates, I’m nodding along with him. A relieved sigh blankets the air in front of me when I’m graced with the knowledge that he too agrees. “I know it blows and it’ll be hard, but ‘s fer tha best, Becks. Outside o’ work and behind closed doors tho’, anythin’s game . . . Alright?”

“Yeah, I’m more than alright. I was thinking the same thing . . I’m here to be your mentee and to learn from you so I can one day, hopefully, be even half as good of a lawyer as you . . Dating you is just a bonus.”

Scarlet engulfs his golden skin while my favorite song in the entire universe tickles my ears, “I couldn’t agree mo’, li’l one. We got some fun in store fer us, that’s fer sure,” he rasps, pulling me against his front, and there, I melt like I did for the very first time, all those years ago.

I hold onto him tightly, never wanting to let him go. 

No, never again, will I. There’s nothing in this world that could ever take him away from me again, I won’t let it. 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #chaptered fic #new chapter #the assistant #pa harry #hecky #lawyer!harry #boss!harry #ceo!harry #office romance #personal assistant #lawyer romance #lawyers #power couple #writing #my writing #narrymccartney writes #young adult

[lxvesickreality]

mistakes 2/4

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: plenty of swearing, terrible writing 

Word Count: 2110

Add on: there is a lot of Russian in here. I used google for translating so if you are Russian and it is wrong, please message me and tell me lol. Part three should be the last part. If not, part four is the max I will go.

gif is NOT mine, credit to owners

“What is love you ask? Love is a lot of things. It is the feeling you get when one smiles at you, the butterflies dancing around in your stomach. It is a jolt of electricity that shoots through the part they touched, sometimes even through your whole body. Then, when your lips touch, it is as if fireworks have gone off in the distance. It is like you two are the only ones alive on this earth, just the two of you. Do not forget the way your heart races as they tell you they love you, or when they just speak to you because you love hearing their voice so much. That warm feeling you get when you are able to smell their perfume or cologne they always wear. You begin to think home is no longer a place, but it is a person and sometimes maybe it is. Sometimes, the feeling you get is the feeling of warmth and security. Security being a feeling every human being needs.”

When Steve got to a hotel to stay overnight at to give his wife some space, he pulled out the paper with his wife’s vows written on it from his wallet. He always kept it with him, no matter where he went because it warmed his heart and reminded him he had a wife at home waiting for him and that she loved him deeply. He paid for a few nights thinking that’s how long his wife might need to let what happened process. It was still processing through his mind that him and Y/N are now separated. He really screwed up and Steve did not think it was fixable. 

Steve got a call on the third night of his stay at the hotel from his best friend, Bucky and when he answered with a groggy voice, Bucky’s was frantic and full of panic. “Steve, you have to get over to your house. The team is already there.” 

“Bucky?” Steve sat up, rubbing his eyes while trying to wake up a little bit more. “Wha-what’s going on?”

“Y/N was taken. By H.Y.D.R.A. and they want what’s theirs back in exchange for Y/N.” It took no time for Steve to jump right into action and tell Bucky he was on his way all the while he was throwing on jeans and boots. His phone was put in his front pocket, grabbing his wallet and keys off the side table and he was out of his hotel room. 

~

When Steve arrived, he spotted Bucky talking to Natasha and Tony on the front porch and he turned his motorcycle off, hopping off it to quickly jog over to them. He immediately questioned them, “Have you found her? Do you know where my wife is?” 

Natasha was the first to speak, but her statement was short and cold. “No, we haven’t.”

“Shit,” Steve’s hands dug through his sandy blonde hair and was pulling hard while tears pricked his eyes. He could’ve prevented this. He could’ve done anything. This was his fault, he cheated on her with Sharon- “Why the hell is Sharon here?” Shit, this is gonna go downhill really fast, Steve thought to himself when he saw the woman standing with Nick Fury. Steve turned on his heel, trudging back to his motorcycle with Bucky hot on his heels yelling for him. Snatching his helmet off the seat, Bucky threw it quite a few yards away from them. 

“It’s time to own your shit, Steve. You cheated, everyone knows that now. But right now, you can’t leave. The team is trying their best to get Y/N, Steve. Now, come back and help us instead of running like a little bitch.” said Bucky. 

Of course everyone knew. His wife probably confided in Tony after Steve left considering that is her best friend and Tony has a knack for telling people things he shouldn’t. Not like it surprised Steve, he just wanted to be the one who said something about it, owned up to it. Steve nodded and walked with Bucky back to Tony and Natasha with a guilt hanging by his shoulders. Natasha’s glare and Tony’s look of disappointment was making him feel worse which he knew was what he deserved but he felt a little angry for them not seeing his side. Then Steve realized he had no side, or at least no good one. He’d broken his wife’s heart, his teams really good friend and asset’s heart. He deserved every hateful thing that came at him. 

“Rogers? Can we talk for a minute?” her sickly sweet voice made his blood boil and he didn’t want to lose it in front of his team but he also didn’t want to hear her voice at all. “Steve, please,”

“No, Sharon. Go away.” said Steve without turning around to face the blonde woman.

Sharon sighed heavily, “Please, Steve, we need to talk.” 

“Talk about what, Sharon?” his whole body whipped around so fast, Sharon jumped from the sudden closeness and the angered appearance. “About the fact I lost my wife three days ago because I fucked your slutty ass a month and a half ago? It was one time. You need to leave. I’m having Fury get you off of this case and I don’t want you near me. Or my fucking wife. Got it, agent Carter?” Steve hadn’t bothered to censor himself and he didn’t care about the devastated expression painted on her face, the one he caused. It made him feel good to say that but also, horrible at the same time. It wasn’t a way to talk to a woman yet he did. He treated a woman wrong before this; his wife. Steve strolled away, Bucky by his side, and left Sharon there with a broken heart that was beating for only him. He fueled that fire and all he could do was let it burn out. 

~

Meanwhile, Y/N was tied to a metal chair with a piece of clothing tied around her mouth and head in an extremely bitter room with no windows and every wall was a bland white, no furniture besides the chair Y/N was tied to or from what she could see.  Her vision was blurry and her head pounded with a strong pain that was coming from the spot she was hit. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and she saw a table a few feet away from her covered with weapons; daggers, pistols, machine guns, grenades, knives, butcher knives, shotguns, and so many more. What caught her eye was the small bottle of chloroform and a rag next to it. Shit, she cursed to herself. The rope was rubbing her skin raw making it painful to move even a centimeter. How long has she been out? 

“Ah, good morning, sunshine,” her e/c eyes shot to the man with a thick Russian accent who came in through the steel door on her left. She winced at the slight movement. “Have a good night's sleep?” 

She tried to speak but it only came out muffled and the man chuckled deeply before making his way to her to take it out the cloth from her mouth. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, got a potty mouth, do we? That’s not very ladylike, miss Y/N,” said the man. “Let me introduce myself, I’m Vadim Ivanov. I’m an agent in H.Y.D.R.A. and you vill be staying vith us for a bit vhile ve vait for your little teammates. There’s no choice in that, krasotka,” 

“What are you talking about? Why are you waiting on them? What do they have that you need so badly?” 

The man got uncomfortably close to Y/N tucking a piece of hair back and she was able to smell his breath that stunk of raw fish, and he had nasty, yellow teeth that were rotting. His hot breath got next to her right ear sending a chill down her spine and he spoke, “That is none of your business, printsessa. All you need to vorry about is if they vill get here in time to get you out alive. Hopefully, they do. You are a very pretty woman, liybimaya. It vill be devastating for me to have to kill you. If I could, I’d take you for myself.” Vadim let go of his hold of her cheek and sauntered over to the table. Y/N watched him as he took a peek out every gun making sure they were all loaded and Y/N couldn’t help but really fear for her life. She’s been kidnapped before, it should’ve been mentioned in the interview with Nick Fury when she was getting hired as an agent that it’d happen a couple times. This time felt different to her though. Something felt off about this whole situation and she was beginning to feel deep down she wasn’t going to make it out alive. 

Salty, warm tears started leaking from her eyes without any warning and she hadn’t realized she was crying until she felt a tear fall onto her bare thigh. Her eyelashes were sticking together with the wetness from her tears, tears falling into her mouth and onto her thighs. She sniffled as she felt her nose beginning to run. Y/N had never felt so scared. 

“Please, let me go, Vadim. Please. I can get you whatever you want. There’s no need to do this. Just let me go. Please…” she begged. Vadim continued what he was doing until he got to the knives and daggers when he picked one up to examine it. Y/N felt like such a coward, she’s never done this on missions but everything was different, everything felt different. She was vulnerable thanks to her husband and the Ectopic pregnancy and it was making her this way. Y/N dropped her head with a loud sob escaping her lips, was this what it felt like to let go? This was how it felt like to be cheated on. She felt a hand lifting her chin up and she was met with the dark green eyes of Vadim’s along with a sweet smile of his. A gasp fell from her lips when the coldness of the dagger touched her knee and the immediate pain when he cut her knee. “No, no, no, Vadim, please. Don’t do this. Don’t do it anymore. Stop, please, Vadim.” 

“I can not do that, printsessa. I vas given orders and I am to do as I am told. Now, say cheese.” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion until the hammer she didn’t even know he grabbed was swinging at her knee. The break of the bone travelled through the room and she let out a shriek just as Vadim took a picture of her. “Идеально (perfect),” 

“Как, черт возьми, это так Идеально (how the hell is that perfect)? Ты только что сломал мне чертово колено (you just broke my damn knee)!” 

Vadim looked at her in surprise when she spoke back to him in Russian. “Ты можешь говорить на русском (you can speak Russian)?” 

“Я агент, ты чертовски осел (I’m an agent, you fucking ass). Конечно я могу (of course I can)!” 

smack

“Не говори со мной так, сука (don’t speak to me that way, bitch)!” 

“О, иди трахни себя (oh go fuck yourself). Я могу говорить с тобой в любом случае я хочу (I can talk to you in anyway I want).” Y/N snapped back at him.

“Я должен был взять Шарон вместо (I should’ve taken Sharon instead). Неудивительно, что Стив Роджерс обманывает (no wonder Steve Rogers is cheating).”

“Ебать тебя (fuck you)!”

crack 

Y/N let out a deafening scream the hammer came in contact of her right wrist then her toes on her left foot when Vadim drops it. Y/N was sobbing noisily when she heard the ping of a video starting. 

“Hello, Avengers. My name is Vadim Ivanov. Don’t bother looking it up because every file of mine has been erased. Your beloved Y/N is sitting here, avaiting for your guys’ arrival and I am giving you 12 hours to find us and give us vhat ve vant. As each hour goes by, she vill get hurt. Currently, she is suffering from a concussion, a broken kneecap, a broken vrist, and possible broken toes. I accidentally dropped the hammer. Oops?” he let out a loud laugh. “You have 12 hours to find us. If you don’t come by the time those 12 hours are up, she vill be dead. Your time starts now.” 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america imagines #natasha romanoff #tony stark #marvel

[tommybaholland]

After Ashes (peter parker x reader)

(gif makes me cry but is not mine)

Summary: what happens after the snap? 

Prompt: “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: iw spoilers, angst, fluff(??)

A/N: this for @spiderboytotherescue‘s 4K Writing Challenge congrats dude! i’m excited for this to be my first submission in a wc AND it’s my first peter parker one shot! amazing! this has been lingering in my head for a minute but i recently watched iw again so then....yeah i wrote this. 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.”

Peter could feel his spider senses flare up intensely, burning him from the inside out. It felt like pins and needles made of fire spreading through his entire body. He was fading away and felt the pieces of him start to flake away like ash. He looked up to Tony with glossy eyes and a pale face.

“You’re alright,” Tony consoled calmly as Peter looked at his hands, trying to process what power had overcome him.

“I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening,” Peter stammered as he stumbled into Tony’s arms. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go—please, sir, I don’t wanna go–”

He clung onto Tony, pressing his head into Tony’s shoulder, tears welling up at the sight of his hands start to disintegrate.

Peter’s legs buckled, falling backwards, bringing Tony with him. He couldn’t hold on any longer, the burn only got worse the longer he stayed. Accepting defeat, he looked over to his mentor one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, wishing he could’ve done more to stop Thanos. He looked away from Tony, unable to watch his face as he fully disintegrated.

Peter’s eyes shoot open, as he gasps for a breath and sighs in relief, no longer feeling the horrible pains in his body.

He sits up and sees nothing but a golden orange everywhere. He looks down and sees his reflection in the floor, like he was looking into a mirror. He placed his hand down on the ground, watching the floor ripple like water. He looked up and around, seeing that he was alone. He stood up fully, slowly turning in every direction to see if there was really no one around.

“Mr. Stark?” he called out, his voice echoing into the open space. “Hello? Is anyone here? Hey! Is there anyone there?” There was no response, confirming that he was truly alone. He beamed his mask over his face, prompting for his suit AI.

“Karen, where–where are we?” he asked, thinking the worst case. “Am—am I dead?”

“No, Peter. You’re inside the soul stone,” she answered.

He collapsed to his knees, putting his head in his heads, rubbing over his face and hair.

“W-What do you mean I’m inside? H-How do I get out?”

“Your soul is literally trapped inside the stone. The stonekeeper has to release you themselves,” she explained.

“Great,” he mumbled after sitting on the ground again, knowing that the new stonekeeper wouldn’t be releasing anyone anytime soon. “Karen, I need you to call Y/N.”

“Peter….there’s no signal here,” she replied solemnly.

“Karen, please. Just try,” he pleaded.

He saw your face pop up, signaling a call going through only to watch it fail, a bright red ‘no signal’ indication blocking your picture.

He thought about you and the last time he saw you, on the bus going on a field trip to MoMA. He remembered your concerned face and gentle touch to his shoulder, telling him to ‘be careful’, like you always did before he left to go be Spider-Man.

He quickly nodded, reassuring you, before swooping out the bus window and swinging under the Brooklyn bridge to make his way towards the circular ship that was floating through New York.

He wondered if he’d ever see you again, hold you again, kiss you again. But if he didn’t, he hoped you were safe and weren’t worrying about him too much.

He sat there, just him and his thoughts. And Karen.

“I hope Y/N’s okay,” he sighed.

“I think she’s alright, Peter,” Karen consoled.

He put his hands over his face and sighed again.

“I really should’ve stayed on the bus.”

*

*

*

When you got to the museum, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You looked to see Peter’s dorky face on the screen, accepting the call immediately.

“Peter? Peter? Are you okay?”

“Hey, Y/N. I’m fine, I just wanted to tell you that I probably won’t be back until….later,” he explained as he looked around the inside of the ship, realizing that he was really going into space.

“Oh God, Peter you’re not on that thing, are you? I swear Peter–”

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s alright. I’m with Mr. Stark, I’m sure he’ll figure something out,” he reassured you. “I love you.”

“I—ve you too, Pet–”

“Y/N? Y/N?”

“—ease come bac—” Your voice cut out, ending with a beeping noise to signal the end of the call.

“The signal dropped, Peter. We’re entering space…” Karen alerted him.

“Please come back,” you pleaded, but your voice was cut off by a beep, pulling the phone away from your ear to see that the call dropped. You joined the rest of the group for the tour of the museum, Ned seeing the concern in your face.

He came up beside you, putting his hand on your shoulder. “He’ll be okay, Y/N,” he consoled. “He always wins a fight, somehow.”

You looked over to him and nodded with a soft smile, hoping he was right.

Later that night, you sat in your bed on your phone, just scrolling on a random social media app. You sighed, exiting the app and locking your phone to look at your nearby window, wondering if Peter would swing onto your fire escape and surprise you.

He had never been gone this long.

You hadn’t heard from him after he had called you so now you were just hoping he’d be back, your nerves getting thicker with each passing minute that you didn’t see that blue and red suit through the window.

But as the night grew darker and quieter, still no sign of him.

You picked up your phone again and clicked on his contact, putting the phone up to your ear. It went straight to voicemail, smiling at hearing his voice in his greeting.

“Hey this is Peter, leave a message!”

“Hey, uh, it’s me. I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re okay. Your phone probably died or something...how does your suit not have a USB port or something to charge it yet? Guess Iron Man can’t think of everything, huh?” You chuckled at bit at your own joke, trying to lighten the mood. You paused after your laughing subsided, thinking about how you didn’t know where he was or when he was coming back.

“So, uh, anyway, I hope you get this soon. I really miss you,” you confessed, your voice starting to break with tears forming in your eyes. “And I love you. I don’t know if you heard me say it earlier but I love you, Peter, so much. I want you to come back, please. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Just please—” Your voice was cut off once again, seeing that this time, your phone had died, shutting down into a black screen.

You scoffed in frustration, throwing your phone onto the comforter as your tears fully began to fall. You fell back into the mattress as you cried, covering your face with your hands, not even bothering to plug your phone in to charge. Eventually you fell asleep with a stuffy nose and tear-streaked cheeks, dreaming that Peter would return soon.

When you opened your eyes, you saw orange. Nothing but a glowing orange color. You sat up and looked around, observing your surroundings. You thought it was a dream until you blinked and rubbed your eyes a few times, confirming that it was real.

You called out for someone, anyone, hoping that they would hear you.

Across the stone, Peter’s ears perked up at a distant noise. He lifted his head up, listening quietly, focusing on the call ring as it through his ears.

“Hey! Is somebody there?” He calls back, beginning to stand up again.

He hears it again, it sounded like a female voice. He starts moving towards the direction of where the call came from, running faster when his webs don’t stick to anything in the orange horizon. He runs and runs and runs until he sees a small figure appear, he beams his mask over his face to give commands to Karen.

“Activate enhanced reconnaissance mode,” he says as he slows a bit, so he can observe the figure from afar. He sees the figure up a bit closer, a person. A female person.

He calls out to them, getting their attention, making them turn around to face him. He can hear his heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins in his ears, muffling his calls and making them louder out to you.

You turn around upon hearing a voice, seeing a shiny figure of medium height yell out to you. You couldn’t make out who it is, but you have one person on your mind.

“Peter?” You take the small chance that it’s him, moving closer with quick steps.

He hears you call out his name, and it was the only confirmation he needed before he began running again, calling your name.

Your ears perked up at your name, feeling tears start to form in your eyes as you quickened your pace, calling out to him again.

“Peter!”

He ran as fast as he could, reaching you in no time. Time seemed to slow down once you finally reunited, letting you savor the moment. You threw your arms up and around his neck as he slammed into you, hugging you around the waist tightly.

You let out a gasp at the impact but relaxed once you were fully embraced in his arms, letting your tears fall.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathed, feeling his warm breath in your hair. He held you as he tried to catch his breath, listening to your heartbeat sync up with his own.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I can’t stand the thought of losing you either, Y/N,” he recites your confession from the message Karen played for him earlier.

You pulled away from him to look at him, tears running down your face, smiling and laughing at his words while pulling him by the neck to rest your forehead on his.

“I love you, Peter,” you said quietly, pressing your lips to his before he could even respond. You ran your hands through his fluffy hair, while he gripped your shirt in his hands.

“I love you, too,” he smiled against your lips.

You pulled away from him, his hands coming up to wipe your tears from your cheeks. “And for the record, this suit can charge my phone,” he said, holding his arms out wide as you chuckled and felt the cold metal of the suit against your hands, admiring the quality.

“You like it? It has all these cool features, like I have these robotic legs—”

“It’s great, Peter. I love it,” you replied with a smile.

You pulled away completely, looking around at the orange space, looking down to see the ripples in the ground. You remembered that you were in an orange, middle-of-nowhere place and you have no idea how you got here.

“Peter...where are we? What’s going on?”

“Oh my god, Y/N, it was insane!” He started to explain, expressively using his hands as he talked. “There was this guy, with this gauntlet, and—and he wanted to wipe out half the universe but he needed these stones to do it. And we tried to stop him but….” He trailed off, letting you connect the rest of the dots.

“So apparently we’re in the soul stone, and only Thanos can let us out,” he finished, his tone faltering.

You turned back to him. “So... we’re trapped in here?”

He nodded. “But at least we’re here together,” he said, giving you a soft smile.

You returned the smile, sauntering back over to hug him around his waist.

“Yeah, P, at least we’re here together,” you repeated, while he hugged you around your shoulders, affectionately rubbing your back.

You pulled away after a few seconds, looking up at his face again.

“So, what do we do now?”

“We wait,” he replies simply, looking out at the horizon.

“For Mr. Stark to save us.”

*

*

*

A/N: *cue avengers theme*......ah i really enjoyed writing for peter even though..he’s technically dead but i still wanted some fluff in there!! so i hoped everyone enjoyed this and its gonna be okay!

much love, tommybaholland 🌺

more peter writing?? 

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[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #4, “The First Time Meeting The Old Best Friend“

*not my gif

---> NEXT BLURB: November 16th at the lastest, hopefully.

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST          

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

sorry i forgot italics in this one, it’s just too much sometimes to go back through and do

WARNINGS: Swearing?

WORD COUNT: 9k words

SONG: If I Didn’t Have you from Monsters Inc. (CLICK TO LISTEN)

                          * SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly.

I wonder if I have enough time to leave, but no, I can’t. He’s noticed, and knows that I’m home. He’s expecting me. If only he could know how that same feeling has overflown inside of me, and been pushed back down each and every time, a hunger that was never fed. I hang my coat, place my keys on the ring beside his, and leave my ankle boots on the mat by his chestnut brown chelseas, just like every other time. In every way I still find it dreamy, but it’s not the same, no matter how much I wish that I could pretend that it is.

“When I love, I love for miles and miles. A love so big it should either be outlawed or it should have a capital and its own currency.”

- Carrie Fisher

*

His humming pulls me from the lines of text growing hazy and forgotten in front of me. Tearing my eyes from my lap, I find him kneading his bottom lip between his fingers. A corner of my mouth greets my cheek as I observe him flip a page and his eyebrows sink closer to his pair of greens, concentrating. 

“What are you humming?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and narrowing my eyes. The sound stops and his eyes shoot over to me, brows still hugging his eyes, now in confusion. 

“Hmmm?” 

“What song are you humming? I don’t recognize it,” I explain, standing from my seat. The smooth, tiled floor is a welcomed cold against my bare feet that plod a path towards his tall bookshelf. 

“Oh, that. Um, Junk by Paul. God, I love that song. ‘ve been listenin’ t’ him loads with tha concert comin’ up. You should too, babe.” 

“I will, thanks for the reminder,” I tell him, winding my arms around his neck and pecking his cheek. Watching the dimple fall into it, a happy hum radiates through my chest. 

“Whatcha wanna do fer dinner t’night? We could eat those leftovers from last night, or I dunno, heat up a can o’ soup. Perfect weather fer it right now, ‘d say.” 

“Both sound good. You can call it, but I’m going to go and refill our teas,” I answer, leaving another kiss on his stubbly cheek. 

“Oh, thank you, love. I hardly noticed, been so engulfed in this bloody book.” 

His smile matches mine when I look over my shoulder, his empty mug in hand as I slide my flats back on. Voices trickle out of the doors I pass on my way to the breakroom. Excitement leaks from them, questions, hushed whispers, and then, a name I recognize. 

“Can you direct me to the office of Harry Styles?” a blonde woman asks Amelia at the front desk. With a hand on the door, I turn back around to watch. 

“Yes, of course. And your name was?” Amelia asks in her sing-song voice, hands poised on the computer keyboard, probably checking the schedule. 

“Penelope-.” 

“Oh, hey, Becky. Filling back up too, I see,” somebody says, drowning out the rest of the woman’s words.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I mumble to myself and only her, watching as Amelia types away. “Sorry, what’d you say, Ash?”

“I just saw you’re getting a refill too. After you,” he almost wheezes, but I don’t take note of it, my eyebrows still in a dip after what I just saw. 

“What’s that look for, huh? Is somebody not happy to see me?”

“Of course not, Ash. I just saw- I dunno what I even saw,” I confess, setting down my pink mug I pluck from the cupboard, and Harry’s black one in front of the electric tea kettle. 

“Everything okay? You look a little lost, or something.” 

“Yeah, fine,” I say slowly, trying to remember if Harry had said anything about wanting coffee instead, but he’s already had two cups, and tries to stick to only two these days. It’s already almost time to go home for the day, anyways. Sighing, I pull open the tea drawer and pluck out an English Breakfast and a Peppermint. 

“I heard you and Harry nabbed that huge McConnell case that everybody’s talking about. Congrats on that,” Asher comments, sticking a hand into the drawer after I moved to the side, ripping open the tiny packets. 

“Oh, thanks. No pressure, or anything.” 

“You’ll do great, don’t worry about it. If anything, it’s a good thing you have Harry. If the bloke is good at one thing, it’s winning cases,” he insists, and I only nod along as I free the string from the bags to place in the mugs. 

A mumbled confirmation leaves my lips as the steam from the scalding hot water wafts over my face, filling the mugs, one and then two. 

“We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Ash. Talk later,” I smile at him, pushing my back against the door and turning around to walk down the hallway. 

Juggling the two, steaming cups in my hand, I take my time walking back to Harry’s office. Quickly, I find that I’m not the only one on my way there, and soon, I pass Amelia on her way back. Smiles float between us, but mine falls away for some reason, and in only a matter of moments, I’d have so many reasons why. 

His head is bent over that same book, and a hand missing that summer glow rubs over his tired face. I can see him from down the hallway, and my vantage point would end up being regrettable, if only I’d known. 

“I didn’t know running your own firm was so tiring, Styles,” the frosty-blonde girl says when she stops in his doorway, and he immediately perks up. 

No, that’s my nickname for him, I think immediately, stopping a few paces behind her. 

“Nelly?!” Harry exclaims with absolute sunshine radiating from his face. “Hell, look at you. T’ what do I owe tha pleasure, love?” he continues in a voice brimming with astonished happiness, standing quickly to hold out his arms towards her.

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I might as well finally come and see you and My’s firm. It’s about time, sorry it took me so long,” she giggles in her posh accent, walking right into his arms where he holds her against him for several moments. Something twinges in my chest at the sight of it while I try to remember when I’ve heard him speak about her. I know he brought her up once, or somebody else did, but I can’t remember what they’d said. Who is this person?

“Yer bloody right ‘s ‘bout time, only took ya years and years. How’ve ya been? Ya look good, thirty looks smashin’ on you, y’know. Married Ben yet?”

“Thanks, but I reckon it looks far better on you, Styles,” this woman laughs and it sounds like a song, but I’m not sure if it’s one that I like. From the appearance of his crinkly-eyed smile, Harry likes it. “Nah, we split a few months back.” 

“Damn, ‘m sorry t’ hear ‘bout that,” he remarks softly while she picks up and looks at things on his desk. His eyes roam over her, but I can’t blame him, because so do mine. They drift over her cropped, curly hair and the long-sleeved, polka dotted dress. Polka dots have never been my thing, but somehow she makes them look sexy and far from childish all at the same time. 

I watch as she picks up the framed pictures sitting on his desk and when she grabs the largest of them all, something flits across her face before she hastily places it down. I only wish I could’ve seen what it was. Shaking my head, I lift a foot to turn around while her voice wanders over to me, and then his. 

“I heard you’ve found somebody new, no longer with Amber, I see.” 

“No, we’ve been split fer a few now. Ya, that’s Becks,” he comments warmly, and the next few of his words I can’t make out, until I hear some that I can’t ignore. “There she ‘s now. Hey, babe, c’mere. There’s sumbody I wantcha t’ meet!” Harry calls down the hallway to me. Gulping, I look up and down the other side of the hallway before turning around to find the smile of my boyfriend. One of my favorite sights, if not a little duller now.

The few moments it takes me to walk to his office are awkward, knowing that they’re watching me and my movements. I suddenly wonder if I need to touch up my makeup, fix my hair, or how this new, black dress really does look on me. 

“Thank ya, love,” Harry smiles when he takes the black mug from my hands to sip from. My own lips fall when she plucks the pink mug from my hands with a similar notion, completely devoid of any apology or embarrassment, and neither is Harry. What the- “Nell, this ‘s me girlfriend and colleague, Becky Holte. She worked here as an assistant o’ mine befo’ she finished uni, and came back last January fer an associate position. She’s me mentee and ‘m her mentor fer tha next few years while she finds her footing, workin’ primarily with me on cases, includin’ tha new McConnell one.” 

“I heard about that, Harry, congratulations. That’s very exciting . . for the both of you,” she grins from behind her mug of tea. My mug of tea. 

“Oh, sorry. Becks, this ‘s Penelope Hautten, or as we fondly call her, Nelly,” he introduces, and she offers a small wave and an awkward smile. Yeah, you have no bloody idea how awkward this is. “We met in uni fer law in our cohort, same with Rose and Rory.” 

“Hi, it’s great to meet you. I’d love to say I’ve heard loads about you, but it’s been a minute since I’ve spoken to Styles over here,” she says, holding out a hand tanned from fake tan that I reluctantly shake when I hear her next comment made in laughter. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, I’d be upset seeing another woman being all over my boyfriend, too.” 

“No, you’re okay,” is all I say at first, feeling a little better when I feel Harry squeeze my arm after swinging one around my waist. “It’s nice to meet you too, I think I’ve heard Harry mention you before. He sure has a lot of good things to say about all of his fun in uni.” 

The words bring loud laughs to both of their lips, and for a moment, I think that I need to as well. I find it awkward to not be laughing, but by then, it’s far too late to begin. 

“I just wanted to stop by to say hi and congratulate you on getting this case, it’s a rather big one. Actually, maybe we could talk some more about it over dinner? I was just on my way to Lenny’s on this side of town,” Nelly says, and yes, I do see the little glance you give to me before you bat your eyes at Harry. 

“Thanks, Nel.’ ‘d actually love t’ pick yer brain ‘bout tha case, and over a sandwich and soup sounds fantastic, ‘specially with this cold weather comin’ in. Great timin’, ‘m starvin’,” he remarks with an eager smile, rubbing a circle into my back before it falls. “Becks, you don’t mind, d’ya? Maybe ya could see if Rose needs help with anythin’,” Harry comments after setting down his tea, raising an eyebrow at me. He nods almost instantly, walking around his desk to grab his Northface off the back of his chair to pull on. 

“Yeah, I’d love to consult on it with you, Harry.” 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I mumble, lifting a hand in a lousy wave as they’re already walking down the hall and away from me. Their loud and happy laughter floats back to me as the image of her arm hooking around his waist burns in my eyes. 

“Was that . . ?” somebody says, breaking into my thoughts. Blinking and turning my head, I see Rose standing in her doorway, down the hallway. “Oh god, was that Penelope?” she groans with a shake of her head, stopping when she sees me standing there. 

“Yep, in the flesh. She took my tea,” I say with a turn of my palm to the sky, taking slow steps until I arrive at her side. I join her in watching them get on the lift with smiles stretching their lips. “And my boyfriend.” 

“I never liked her.” 

“Why not? Wait,” I ask and then pause, furrowing my brows as thoughts race around behind my eyes. “Was she the one in your friend circle in uni who- No, please tell me that’s not the one who had a crush on Harry?”

A sigh is all that graces my ears while she tucks a daring lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes and yes,” she answers.

“God,” I groan, losing a hand in my hair. “And she just stole my boyfriend for a dinner date, when we were just going to go for our Taco Tuesday. What the fuck?” I exhale, letting my hand fall with a slap! to my leg. 

“You better keep a short leash on him when she’s around, that’s all I’ll say.” 

“Rose-,” I begin, turning to look at her. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you, love. I’m sure everything will be fine, it’s been years since all of that happened, she’s bound to have changed, or so I hope.”

+

“You said everything would be fine, and you know what, it’s not fine!” I exclaim, dropping my bag onto the chestnut colored chair in front of the desk. Inhaling, the breath passes my lips shakily, and I turn away to look around the office. 

“Becky, what’s the matter, love? What are you talking about?” 

“Her. Penelope . . She’s on the McConnell case with Harry, instead of me,” I reveal gently, but the words falling from my lips feel like anything but that to my heart. Sniffling, I swipe a hand across my cheeks. 

“What, how do you-.” 

“I just saw him in the break room. You know what, I didn’t see him all last night. He didn’t come home until late. I went to sleep in an empty bed, and woke up later around eleven when he came in, and didn’t say a word to me. But in the break room, I run into my boyfriend, my mentee, my boss, who are all the same person, and all he has to say to me is that he’s switched me to your case and her to his. He didn’t have time to say anything more, because what’s-her-face slinked in and stole him from me. Again. Rose, I-I don’t like this, what the fuck is going on?” I finish, spinning around to look at her through the hazy tears sitting in my eyes. 

“Oh, Becky love, I’m so sorry,” is all she says before pulling me into her arms where I let the tears fly. 

“Am I stupid for getting so upset over this? I dunno if I am, because I looked her up on Insta last night and her stories were of them getting dinner and drinks together and she put hearts all around him on it. T-Then, this morning he barely kissed me on the cheek before breaking the news to me, and nothing more. No ‘I’m sorry for replacing you at dinner last night’ or ‘I’m sorry for coming home late and not responding to any of your texts last night,’” I cry, catching whiffs of her floral based perfume, feeling her sigh before hearing it. “I’m not going through another fucking Amber phase with him, she was one and done for me. I don’t like this, I just want him back.”

+

“Come ‘head, love, time for our weekly team meeting.” 

I remain silent, staring at the laptop screen unblinkingly, wishing it was the voice of another now saying my name. 

“I don’t want to . . she’ll be there . . with him,” I answer, switching tabs and scrolling through my search results on the Silver Net database. 

“Becky-.” 

“I can’t, Rose, okay?” I nearly retort, turning my head to look at her patient, brown eyes. “You didn’t hear the stuff she said to me yesterday.” 

“What’d she say to you?” she hurriedly replies with concern, sitting down on the chair next to me, pulling it over so she’s facing me. 

“It’s what she didn’t say,” I respond, closing my laptop but nervous to meet her eyes. “With just my luck, I ran into her in the break room yesterday, just when I was starting to feel better the day after getting dropped from Harry’s case. She was asking me about him, and well, me. How long I’d known him, how long we’d been dating, blah blah. Then she couldn’t shut up about how she’s known him for over ten years, how they’d have all of these late study nights in the library together, and how they took their Bar together. Then, he came in and she just continued, rattling off the cases they won together in the beginning when they got their first real lawyer jobs. She knew what she was doing and so did I, she was showing how much better she is for him, and how I’m . . not.” 

“As if anybody fucking asked her,” Rose tuts, shaking her head vehemently and getting to her feet. “You stay and keep checking on those statements we got, okay? You don’t have to come to the meeting, I’ll just debrief you when I get back.” 

Nodding, I lift the lid of my laptop again and switch to Docs. 

“Becky?” 

“Yeah, Rose?” I say, my eyes flitting to the door where she stands with her hand on the doorknob. 

“You’re sure you aren’t going to talk to him about this? I think the sooner the better.”

“I would, if I could get him alone, but I can’t. It’s like she’s always there, even outside of work, he’s out doing something with her. I dunno, I give up.” 

“I’m really sorry, love,” she frowns, emphasis in her voice and the bend of her eyebrows. 

“Thank you, Rose,” I answer with a small smile, watching her return it and leave the room. I almost jump when I hear the ding of my phone, and scrabble to pry it from my pocket, only to be disappointed with a text from Skye. As well as the memory staring back at me, teasingly, from my lock screen.

If only I could go back to that day, or just rewind life by a few.

+

The flecks of snow leave cold puddles in my hair as my fingers wrap around the cold handle. Gulping, I don’t twist it, and instead, I just stare and listen. I listen to the happy hum of music I hear coming from the other side, and to the obnoxiously nervous thrumming of my heart. He’s home, and for the first time in three days, it’s before eleven o’clock. I want to savor it, but the repressed thoughts have turned sour in my heart, building upon each other throughout the prior days. 

The new cold that has embedded itself into the wind and the trees around me, is what brings me inside. Maybe there’s an ounce of wanting to see him, or a contradicting whole lot, but it’s the sudden cold that I can’t handle anymore, and how it’s much too like the same absence that’s grown in my chest. 

“Ya hungry, babe?” he calls to me, the sound of the door opening something I’ve only gotten used to recently, but he’s mastered by now. Breathing in, I chase a deep breath, but it’s lost. Wasting the time until I have to walk past him, I sink down onto the bottom step to pry off my shoes. “I was gonna make sumthin’ fer dinna, but ‘m not sure what. Anythin’ sound good t’ you? Oh, I was wonderin,’ why weren’t you at tha team meetin’ t’day? Ev’rything’ alright?” he continues, despite my lack of an answer. The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly. 

I wonder if I have enough time to leave, but no, I can’t. He’s noticed, and knows that I’m home. He’s expecting me. If only he could know how that same feeling has overflown inside of me, and been pushed back down each and every time, a hunger that was never fed. I hang my coat, place my keys on the ring beside his, and leave my ankle boots on the mat by his chestnut brown chelseas, just like every other time. In every way I still find it dreamy, but it’s not the same, no matter how much I wish that I could pretend that it is. 

“Becks?”

“I’m not hungry,” I softly decide on a few moments later, padding into the kitchen where he still stands in his work clothes from today. The shiny black number adorned with velvet edges now absent, and my ever favorite, the leopard button up. The pain still sings behind my ribs at the appearance of it in its lonesome, untucked from his slacks. 

“How are ya not? ‘s five o’clock, love. I know ya have yer lunches at one, so ya must be starvin,’” Harry comments, but how would he even know? The fridge makes that noise it always does when it opens, the soft pop before the whoosh of the refrigeration. “Hey, where are ya goin’? I could make a pizza, or some spaghetti fer us.” 

The words that he requires to his questions escape me, and in their place, sit the impatient ones that have been patient for far too long. Yet, I can’t find the right ones to say that feel right, but then again, all of this feels so wrong. Not one moment from the last few days has felt anything close to right. 

“Becks,” he says, urgency laden in his voice, and I wonder why I didn’t just walk up the stairs and away from him when I had the chance. “Hey, why’re you ignorin’ me, love?” 

If that didn’t do it, his hand on my shoulder, soft as can be, does. I try my hardest to not melt into putty in his hands, but he sidesteps that entirely, and walks around to stand in front of me. 

“What, it’s only okay when you do it?” I bite back, but the fervor isn’t there in my voice. No, not yet, but it’s not what does it for him when he sees my face. It’s barely there, but the way his eyes widen, and his lips part tells me that he too feels the tears warming up my cold-bitten cheeks. 

“Becks, I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout. What’s tha matter, love?” 

“Please, don’t lie to me,” I begin, a sob near and not too far. A swallow to wet my voice is anything but that, and I know it will only get worse as his eyebrows fall into the deepest V I may have ever seen. 

“‘m not lyin’ t’ you, bug,” he insists, cocking his head. A whimper sounds from my lips when I pull my arm out of his grasp, and the effect is immediate, firstly in his eyes. 

“You forgot about me, Harry. Our Taco Tuesday date . . watching the new episode of American Horror Story last night . . watching FRIENDS every night at dinner . . reading Harry Potter together every night before bed,” I say, the sob beginning its place behind my lips. “Ever since Nelly walked into your office on Tuesday, it’s been all about her! We’ve hardly spoken the last three days, and when we do, it’s ‘Nelly this,’ and ‘Nelly that.’ I’m your girlfriend, Harry, and I got fucking demoted by you, again!” the exclamation is dry, and yet with the sadness that leaps from my insides, no longer patient. 

“Honey, ‘m sorry,” he tries with sorrow and everything else sewn into his features, but unlike every other time, I don’t want to take it and run. I don’t want to give in, or settle. 

“Sorry doesn’t always cut it, Harry, you know that. You dropped me from your case without even asking me so you could have her help you! When we were talking about taking the case, you told me that it would be such a great learning experience for me. My first murder trial, and you gave it away to her! She’s seen how many murder trials, how many courtrooms, and known you for how long, Harry? It’s like I didn’t matter anymore the second she walked in your office. You didn’t answer your calls and texts, or if you did, it was hours later. I saw you on her Instagram story getting dinner and drinks every night this week, instead of having dinner at home, with me,” I explain, the tears wetting my lips chapped from the cold wind. “I don’t understand, Harry, what did I do or what didn’t I do? What does she have that I don’t?” 

“Becks, please-,” he starts with a sadness in his voice that I don’t want to place or take ownership of. 

“She loves you, Harry, I know it,” I say, and then, it all changes. His face does, and so do his words. He changes. 

“What? What would make ya say that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Harry, I’ve seen it. I’ve only known her for a few days, and I see it. I see it in the way she looks at you, how anytime I’ve tried to talk to you at work this week she steals you back from me, and how much she sells herself to sound like you . . how she’s so much better for you than I am,” I tell him, the emphasis at last arriving in my voice. The bravery. 

“She doesn’t feel that way ‘bout me, she never has. We’re jus’ good friends, ‘s all.” 

“P-Please, I said don’t lie to me,” I stutter, squeezing my eyes shut at the sound of his words. The sting of the denial. “She does, even Rose told me she has ever since uni, Harry! Why can’t you see that?” 

“There’s nuthin’ to see, Becks, ‘s jus’ best friends reunitin’ afta a few years. Ya wouldn’t understand . . ,” he spits back, disdain heavy in his voice, and now in my heart. 

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, Harry, but I guess, not this week.” 

“Jealous much?” he tuts with a shake of his head, his upper lip curling as his face takes on the look of . . somebody else. “Y’know what, ‘m sorry I dropped you from tha case, and yer all bitchy ‘bout that. I wanted t’ work onn’a case with me best friend fer ol’ time’s sake. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that! There’ll be how many mo’ murder cases, if that’s what yer really upset ‘bout. Nelly, she’s not in love with me, so stop bloody sayin’ that. Fookin’ f’get dinna, I don’t even wanna be ‘round you right now, yer bein’ pathetic and all jealous,” he retorts, and any words I had to say are drowning in the tears that crowd my cheeks. 

“Harry, please. Don’t,” I beg him, turning to watch him walk away and shove his feet into his boots by the door. 

“No, Becks. ‘m goin’ out fer dinna . . with Nelly. ‘ccordin’ t’ you, that’s all ‘m good at as of recent,” he says, and his voice drops when he says her name. So does my heart, and I’m sure it shows on my sleeve, because a hint of My Harry appears on his face just for a moment. Only a moment of regret and realness. I don’t wait to see if it remains, and dash past him to take the stairs two at a time until I find the guest bedroom, wishing that I could collapse onto our bed without it hurting me all the more. 

It’s a few choked breaths until I hear the door to the garage slam, his car start, and then leave. 

I guess I got my wish, afterall, to be alone.

+

The slamming of the door is what I hear next, and what lifts my heavy head from the pillow. Muffled curses pricks at my ears while I rub at my heavy eyes, a yawn leaving my lips. Blinking slowly, my eyes begin to fall shut and the pillow greets my head once more. Licking my lips, I grasp at the edges of the striped pillowcase, the remnants of my dream coming back to me. The sounds around me soften and so does the rest of my body, unbeknownst to me the hour, or the memory of the fight earlier. Nor did I know of the man who nervously climbs the stairs with a hole in his heart, searching for me. 

“There you are,” he says, but I hear it in my dream, or so I think. Opening my eyes slowly, sleep is all but lost as his steps creak across the floor after opening the door noisily. “Oh, shit. ‘m sorry, I woke you up.” 

I’d fall back asleep, ignoring him and it all, but I can’t after I hear the way the words fell from his lips. The subsequent sniffling and whimpers that adorn his words. Lying there staring into the darkness, my eyes slowly start to open more and so does my mind, and perhaps my heart. Having slept in another bed that wasn’t mine, I want more than anything to not have to fall asleep in an empty, cold bed tonight, without him. I just want things to be okay again, and to be normal. I had never before coveted the normalcy that we had only days ago, and how unknowingly happy I was living amongst it. 

It pulls me to my feet and across the room blindly, and into his arms. For the first time in days, the tears don’t find me, but as I breathe in his smell, they belong to him now. 

“Becks,” he cries from above me, his chest shaking under my touch. Sighing, all of the unspoken grievances spend themselves onto his skin, and hopefully, out of my heart. Little did I know. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Harry, it’s okay.” 

“‘s not okay, Becks, ‘s really not,” Harry continues, and as if in slow motion, I pull myself away from him. The glow of the streetlamp illuminates his features painted with sadness, and their rivers. 

“Harry,” I begin, afraid of the words mounting on his lips as he presses his palms against his eyes. 

“You were right,” is all he says and I’m stepping away, muttering frantic ‘no’s until I touch the bed, and sink onto it. His hands fall and in the scattered light amongst the darkness, I see the impending words weighing on his lips. “S-She kissed me . . t’night at dinna, we had been drinkin’ and . .” 

The ‘no’s are lost entirely within moments, and my head falls into my hands. An emptiness that had been building within my gut over the last few days only intensifies, and if I’d eaten anything for dinner, it would have been lost by now. 

“I stopped her, Becks, believe me. Please. I-I told her that she can’t, and I didn’t do it, too. I didn’t kiss her back, baby, I promise you that. ’m sorry, Becks, ’m so sorry,” Harry weeps. The floor creaks, but I’m too far away to know what it means, until his face falls into my lap. “I pushed her away, and told her that yer tha one I love, it could never be anybody else. I could never feel that way ‘bout her, I said that too, and how I love you so much and ‘ve been tha worst boyfriend t’ you ever since she came here . . . I-I made her leave, Becks, I swear. S-She’s gone and ‘m so fookin’ sorry I let this happen, baby, ‘m so goddamn sorry. I love you. I love you so fookin’ much, and ‘s only you. ‘s only ever been you.” 

With a choked sound, I stand up and hardly feel the carpet pass under my feet, or the wooden steps that come next. I hear my name, the one that he gave me so long ago, and only swears by. Again and again, it comes, and I listen, but I don’t. After a while, the sobs bursting from me cover his voice, but they could never silence it. No, not my favorite sound in the entire world, and yet, at this moment, it’s the one that I hate most, because of the words it said. 

“Becks, don’t. Baby, please,” he begs when I grab the keys and pull on my shoes. “Don’t leave. ‘m sorry, I promise she’s gone and isn’t comin’ back. You can’t leave anyways, ‘s a blizzard out there. They’re sayin’ people shouldn’t be drivin’ in it, ‘s tha first snowfall like this in October in a hundred years. I don’t want sumthin’ t’ happen t’ you.” 

Stopping, my hand freezes on the handle, just like it did only hours before. Only then, things weren’t nearly as bad as they are right now. Sniffling, my shoulders fall and shake harder than before, and so do my words, “I don’t want to be here,” I sob, helplessly. 

“I know, ‘m so sorry, Becks. ‘m so sorry,” he continues from behind me. I wait for the sound of his footsteps but they don’t come, and I’m not sure of my own, either. 

Standing there, I’m uncertain of how much longer I can do it, to stand. Our cries fill my ears, and the ache of all aches weighs in my chest. With every second, it feels as if my legs are going to forget me, but there I keep standing, for how long I’m not sure. 

“‘ll go, ‘ll leave you be. ‘m gonna pack a bag and stay at Myles’ down tha road . . Eat, babe, please. Have sumthin’ fer dinna,” he announces, and I swallow, past all of the anger and upset living in there. Blinking, the tears waiting in the dugout leave, and I see the cream of the door. I see all of the memories that happened even just there - the nights tripping in from too many drinks, the first nights at his place together, coming in after walks around the neighborhood, or surprising him after work with takeaway. They play before my eyes until freezing at the feeling of his lips on the crown of my head, and I close them. I wish that it could be like any other time, but the trembling of my lips tells me otherwise. “I love you, so much, Rebecca Ann. I love you, love you, love you,” he whispers before another peck, and then, he’s gone. 

I don’t remember leaving him, or making my way to the downstairs study, falling into a fitful sleep on his futon with the sights and smells of him dancing around me. I only remember wishing that this was all a nightmare that he could wake me up from, and to not have to wake up to it, again.

+

The shrill sound of my alarm is what brings my eyes open the next morning, instantly groaning. Turning over, I press Snooze on my phone screen, again, and catch the picture that I haven’t been able to get myself to change. I could place it anywhere - a visit to The National Gallery to see Monet, Harry’s recent infatuation. It was a selfie gone wrong in front of the painting, Bathers, and instead features our large smiles in a blurry photo. 

The time continues to tick away on the wall, and with every second that passes, life comes back to me, and walking back into my heart. I lay my head back down on the pillow and watch how the early morning sunlight peeking in through the shades dances across his study. The spines of his favorite books filling the shelf on the wall. Reflections painted on the screen of his trusty iMac. The ghosts stare back at me from the framed pictures around the towering object. His mum, sister, grandparents, the team at the firm, and then, there’s me. It’s the shiniest of all, absent of dust, and is in the biggest frame. He’s not even in it, like the others, because it’s just me. The pink and brown, patched quilt falls to my waist when I sit up quickly, squinting with my contactless eyes to see it. I had no idea he had printed it and framed it, to have in here, a snapshot of me from my birthday with a bedhead and a tired smile after opening presents. The accompanying frames hug the sides of his computer, but this one- no, not this one. It almost obscures the monitor itself, it’s so close, and it makes me wonder all the more if that says anything for how he holds me in his heart.

+

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, stabbing at the lit up number amongst the rows. Dragging a hand through my hair, sighs fill the air whilst I smooth down my wrinkled slacks, hoping I don’t look as shitty as I feel, like I know I do. 

Not soon enough, the office comes into view, and I rush in. “I’m so sorry,” I apologize profusely, shaking my head as I set down my things in her closet where hers sit as well. “I just- I had a really terrible night, I know it’s no excuse, but-.” 

“Would you stop apologizing? You overdid it when you rang me on your drive here, don’t worry so much, love. We all oversleep sometimes. I’m just glad you didn’t miss the team meeting, come on then.” 

“God, another one? That has to be like two too many this week . . why?” I groan, following her out of the room with slumped shoulders. The realizations and realities don’t hit me until the second before I step foot into the conference room, searching for him. He’s nowhere to be found, and of course, it only makes me feel all the worse. I snoozed my alarm too many times and overslept, missed breakfast, forgot makeup, and now, my boyfriend I’m fighting with is MIA from work. 

Could this week get any worse? Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t jinx it, now. 

“Where’s your lover boy at?” Rose taunts, but when my eyes stop their investigating, I find that she’s looking around with pinched brows, too. 

“I’m wondering the same thing,” I answer softly, watching as more people fill the room, plucking bagels and muffins from the platter in the middle of the table. It would be calling my name typically, but no, something else is right now, somebody else. 

“You go and find him.” 

“But, Rose, they’re going to start-,” I begin, until Myles’ booming voice interrupts me from the front of the room. 

Her firm green eyes don’t shy away from their answer, “It’s okay, go, Becky. He doesn’t usually miss these things, anyways. He’s gotten good at actually showing up to them for once,” she says with a soft smile, patting my arm and nodding at me to follow her words. 

Nodding with a grateful smile, I weave around the cluster of familiar lawyers finding seats, and slip out the door. Searching the halls nearby is the first thing I do, but I’ve never been very lucky with that, and I’m not this time, either. I think I have it in the bag when I push open the door to his office, but despite the warm light pouring in from the windows and the ceiling lights, it’s a ruse. Harry’s not here, either. 

Whirling around, I take a step towards the door until my mind catches on something. With careful steps, I turn back around and walk over to his desk, and I notice it. The mess. It hasn’t been this unorganized since well, when I worked as his assistant. He’s always kept it clean since I started working with him again, always having a place for everything, and keeping it that way. This is odd. 

That’s pitched back onto the pile, forgotten, when the sun glimmers on something reflective. With another step, I catch sight of it, and like the other one did so perfectly, the guilt starts to bead inside of me. Inhaling suddenly, a smile lopsides my lips as I reach out to touch it. It’s just like the other one, and yet it isn’t, and in the best of ways. 

As if it’s a mirror, my face stares back at me, and in so many ways. My staff picture for the firm that he took of me on a pair of steps on a walk together during lunch. Me riding the carousel when I had to be four or five. Pigtailed primary age me kicking a football along the field in a yellow jersey. Chubby-faced me smiling at the camera with only a few teeth to call my own, drool running down my chin. A candid of me at a staff party, and one that was long ago, when I was just his assistant. One to remember, a shot of me moments before my very first case with Harry, all dolled up in my lawyer attire. In the center of them all, they sit taped to a larger picture of me smiling so hard my dimple popped, in front of a path of autumn trees. A day only just a week ago if that, I realize, while admiring it. 

Sighing, I reach a hand to brush underneath my eye, but I bump his white Apple mouse in the process. It wakes up his iMac and the sight of his screen is soon clouded with tepid tears. They fall, tasting briny against my lips, and heavy with guilt. In all of my time working with him, before, I had seen his computer. I had seen his laptop background. I had even seen his lockscreen, and it was never of somebody. No, it was a painting, song lyrics, a grocery list, or a sample background. It was never of a girl, but this time, it is. It’s him and me, some secret snap from a hike with Robbie this summer, overlooking the peak but smiling at each other while the sunset colors wash the sky. 

God, I really do need to fix this, right now. And if I had any plans for what that would be like, they’re stolen away by the wind when I look up. 

“Hey,” he says softly, worrying away at his bottom lip. His warm gray suit flutters when he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and if it weren’t for the lip thing, I know from this too that he’s nervous. Anxious or not, he looks unforgettable in that suit - the very one he donned for our first date, and I requested for so many more that he finally told me ‘no,’ because he had so many others. 

“I was looking for you,” I reveal slowly, my voice shy and distant, although I try so hard. 

“I was jus’ lookin’ fer ya too.” 

Silence falls into the space between us and claims it, separating us all the more with the desk in between us, and his figure across the room. Words fill me to the brim, and I didn’t know it a moment before, but these ones are impatient too. They grow heavy and needy when I see the glassy look to his eyes, and then disappear altogether when the first tear drips down his cheek. 

“‘m so sorry, Becks. I know I fooked ev’rythin’ up, and I understand if ya wanna break up- I-,” Harry weeps, his voice giving out on him. His dingy, flat curls move when his head shakes from side to side. My heart aches with each beat, and only sinks further when those pretty greens run away from me to hide in his hand. 

“Harry,” I begin in the worst of sighs, my rushing feet not quick enough to get me over to him. “You didn’t fuck everything up, you’re not even capable of that. Breaking up hasn’t crossed my mind, I promise.” 

“What?” he breathes, his hands falling at last. They’re slick with tears when I wrap them up inside of my own. Shock paints his face and stills the tears in his eyes that glue to me immediately. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, big head,” I refrain, freeing his hands and grabbing his face until my lips touch his. Surely, I’ve surprised him, but it’s only seconds until he kisses me back. Her face pops into my head, and I kiss him harder. The thought of her kissing him comes next, and I lose my fingers in his hair. I try to find my ground by focusing on the feeling of his stubble underneath my fingertips, and his smell. It smells like home. 

“Baby, ‘m still so sorry,” he mumbles against my lips in between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” I assure him, pressing pecks to his mouth with hurried breaths. The image of his wet green eyes find mine again, and it’s like my heart didn’t just get sewn back together in the last minute like I’d thought. 

“‘m sorry, Becks, fer ev’rythin’ this week. Ignorin’ you, droppin’ you from tha case, comin’ home late, and our row last night,” Harry starts with tears growing in his eyes. Shaking my head, I pull him against me, and find his neck with my nose. “I was such a prick t’ you, I can’t believe it. Ya don’t deserve tha way I treated you or talked t’ you. ‘m so sorry.” 

“I know, Harry, it’s okay. I forgive you, it’s okay,” I coo, trailing my nails against the back of his neck, catching the soft curls there. “I was to blame too, I should’ve talked to you right away, and not waited. I-.” 

“No, don’t, Becks. ‘s not yer fault, none o’ it, it was all me,” he insists with a sob. I shush him, and lay my head on his shoulder, wishing to know how I could make this all go away. Hushed ‘it’s okay’s fall from my lips as I rub hearts into his back, wishing I could rub and rub until it was all better. Finally, the silence feels comforting, and no longer dangerous. 

The sniffles have slowed and almost stopped once I pull away, catching a tear budding on the end of his nose. A corner of his mouth greets his cheek as he catches one under my eye. 

“I’m sorry I got so upset last night over that stupid kiss. I know that you’d never do something like that to me . . it wasn’t your fault, Harry,” I say, brushing my thumb over his untidy stubble along his cheek. 

“Thank you . . ‘m sorry I didn’t believe ya and got all defensive ‘bout whatcha said. Yer me girl, nuthin’ will ever change that,” Harry hums, sponging a kiss to my forehead. “I got so excited t’ see Nelly at first, but she kept tryin’ t’ keep me away from you, and I shouldn’t have ignored it.” 

“It’s okay, it’s all over and done with.” 

“Mmmhmm,” he hardly smiles, looking down at me. 

“I’m your girl, huh?”

“Always, baby,” he confirms, his lips slowly spreading to shine that sunshine on me. “Hey, why tha tears when I came in, bug?” Harry shushes, leaving kisses along my face until I’m giggling. 

“Your pictures,” I say amongst the attack of kisses, hearing his confused ‘hmm?’ from somewhere on the other side. “Nothing, I just- I know. I really know, now.” 

“Good, silly girl, wantcha t’ never f’get that. Yer all mine,” he nearly sings, his lips drifting to my jaw and then my neck. “Love you, love you, love you.” 

“I love you more,” I sing back in reply, but then my breath catches when his giggle tickles my ear. “Don’t you dare! Harry!” I chuckle.

“Do what, love?” he asks, the mischief sparkling in his eyes when his lips leave my skin to smile at me now. 

“I swear to God, Harry Edward,” I titter, my words collapsing into laughs. 

“I love you most,” he claims with a loud wheeze, tittering into the corner of my neck soon, making us both laugh. 

“That’s my line!” 

“Seems I got t’ steal it this time, bug, and fook, did it feel good t’ finally get t’ say,” he comments, earning a dramatic sigh from me. “So, what d’ya say t’ skippin’ tha team meetin’ like ‘d planned, and orderin’ brekky and catchin’ up on that show o’ ours?”

“Perfect.” 

“Good answer,” he smirks, touching his lips to mine before pulling me in to wrap me up in my favorite place in the whole wide world, his arms.

+

“Are you ready yet? God, I swear you take longer than me, Harry, and I’m the gender who’s said to take the longest in the bathroom!” 

“Ya well, ‘s not very hard t’ bloody braid yer hair, throw on some gym clothes, and a hat, now ‘s it, Ms. Holte?” he calls back, and I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. With a sigh, I take a seat on the bottom step and let my chin fall into my palm. 

“Oh, would you stop? All you had to do was spray your hair and spike it, and write some words on your face with eyeliner.” 

“Be nice t’ me,” he remarks from above me, his voice coming closer. Cocking my head, I see a glimpse of him until at last, he comes into view. His grumpy face doesn’t last very long when he sees the dimple fall into my cheek, and soon, so are his. “How do I look, Ms. Green?”

“Great, Mr. Geller. You really nailed the nineties spiked hair,” I say, my words falling into a giggle that he shakes his head at. 

“Why thank you, ‘m rather proud o’ it too.” 

“I still can’t believe who you said we should go as instead.” 

“Keep teasin’ me and maybe we will go onna break,” Harry jokes, arriving at the bottom stair and soon returning to sit beside me with his pair of Old Skool vans in tow. 

“Hush,” I retort, knocking shoulders with him. Smushing the hat back against my head, my head falls onto his shoulder and I wind one of my arms around his. “You did good on the whiskers, I like them,” I note, dragging the back of my finger against his baby-smooth cheek. 

“Thanks, babe,” he mumbles while pulling on his shoes. Turning to me, the fake, black whiskers are obscured by his lovely dimples. “Ya really did do a great job with yer costume too, love, and t’ think we jus’ used what we had. We’re rather nifty, ‘d say,” he says, tapping a finger against my nose. 

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see how cute we look together.” 

“Then let’s go look, shall we, Rachel?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrows, and I nod as he kisses my forehead. 

Taking his hand, I stand up and follow him through the house until we arrive in the main floor’s bathroom, staring into the floor to ceiling mirror. A laugh immediately sputters from my lips and one from his too. 

“God, we look stupid.” 

“I hope that means we did good with our costumes,” he titters, inspecting his hair until I softly swat at his shoulder. “Ya really outdid yerself with tha pigtails, babe. Me black cap looks great on you, as does tha rest o’ yer outfit that’s mine. Ya always blow me away by how sexy ya look in me clothes.” 

“Okay, bud, would you chill out?” I chuckle whilst he sponges kisses down my neck from behind me now. “Harry, we haven’t even left for the party yet and you’re going to mess up your makeup.” 

“‘s okay, ‘s supposed t’ look a li’l messy since Ross was drunk in that episode.” 

“Harry, stop it,” I giggle when his lips wander to below my ear and his hands to my ticklish waist. “Kissy time can wait until later, mister.” 

“Hmmmph, yer no fun.” 

“I’m sure we’ll both be loads more fun when we’re tipsy later,” I note, taking his hands in mine and leaning into him. 

“Oooo, don’t tempt me, babe. Already wanna kiss all over you, yer not helpin’.” 

“Harry, I’m dressed as Rachel from the football episode in nothing but sweats. How in the hell is that sexy?” I wheeze, squirming when his fingers find just the right place on my ribs, because he’s gotten it memorized by now. 

“Told ya that ya look like sumthin’ else when ya wear me clothes. Plus, there’s never a time where ya don’t drive me mad with how beautiful ya are.” 

“Harry,” I sigh happily, opening my closed eyes to watch him litter kisses along my face in the mirror. “You know, I bet we’ll even win best couples costume.” 

“Hmmm, ya think?” he wonders aloud, lifting his head to look back at us, and in my eyes. Gently yanking on my pigtail, I giggle as I turn around and thread my arms around his neck. “Y’know what, reckon we look cute t’gether even as Ross and Rachel, but always as Harry and Becks.” 

His sunshine spreads a wider smile on my face as I hide my blushing face in his neck. The olive green button down of his slips under my fingers from behind his neck, and then again, I see the cat face scribbled on his face and ‘Ross’ written on his forehead from that one episode of FRIENDS. 

“We make a good team, huh?” I ask him, my fingers dancing over his beaming face. 

“Ya, we sure do, babe. And we’ll make a better one if ya don’t mess up me makeup I took far too long t’ put on.” 

“Okay, fine,” I relent, my thumb drifting along his cheekbones before it finds his bottom lip. “How’s this spot?”

“That works just fine.” 

“Oh, you don’t say?” I snicker, pulling down his warm lip only to have it spring back against his teeth. 

He shakes head with red cheeks while humming a response, but it doesn’t go very far until I envelope his lips with mine, sure that I’m screwing up his makeup but neither of us care. The kiss only grows sweeter when I think of the last Halloween that we spent together, and how this one is already starting off miles better.

We really have made it, haven’t we?

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