#then check under the tree and shes just there curled up sleeping so soundly

[ripjaws]

~

#its late im missing my cat so much right now #first christmas without her and it fucking hurts too much #she'd get so cosy right underneath the tree and it'd be so lovely to not be able to find her anywhere else #then check under the tree and shes just there curled up sleeping so soundly #god i miss her so much

[sgt-morgan]

This Morning ☕️🌅

Summary: Mornings with your Cowboy.

Warnings: AFAB!reader, Female identifying!reader.

A/N: sorry I’ve been MIA folks, my family has been going through it. Posting Friday for Whiskey Sunrise. Also, my links are gonna take 45 years to fix but I’m on vacation so I’ll fix it I swear!

Pedro Masterlist

You woke to a strangely quiet house. With three children all under the age of five, the quiet you were being treated to was a little unsettling, reaching a tired hand back to smack your husband to go check on the kids, you find his side of the bed empty. You look at the time and, shit. You’ve been allowed to sleep in.

By this time, you are normally hips deep in chores, babies strapped to your chest and a giggling four year old yelling for you to “come see me feed the horsey mama!” You looked in the kitchen for signs that anyone made breakfast and found none, you started the coffee pot and contemplated food options. Eggs? Nah. No way you could get Daisy to eat that. Bagels? No cream cheese, you never went to the store. Cinnamon rolls it is then. You pull and place each little roll onto a baking sheet and indulge in the rich earthy scent of the coffee brewing in the pot, humming a simple tune whilst you dance around the kitchen. When the cinnamon rolls are finally in the oven, you go to find your family.

You take time to slip into the wool socks, pulling on jeans and boots, a Henley and a beanie, and one of Jack’s big work jacket with a flannel lining. It’s comfy and your whole body is warm and relaxed when you grab the two travel mugs and head out to find your family. It’s getting down in the fall, the trees are bare and you’re in the stage where the wind is cool enough in the morning for winter but that sun in the afternoon keeps it warm enough to keep the frost at bay. You check the chickens, they’ve been fed. You check the barn, the horses are let out. You then walk along the fence until you catch sight of your family and sure enough, there they are.

“Good mornin’ darlin!” You hear him call when you’re about halfway up the fence.

“Well howdy cowboy!” You call back with a giggle.

“I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer.” He chuckles, starting to meet you half way. You could see that Daisy was riding Sazzerac with Tequila sat behind her, and Coke was following her around the pen like the great big horse would be able to stop her falling off if it came down to it.

“Ah, I see, riding lessons meant extra help with the chores.” You giggle. “No, an extra 20 minutes of sleep for me might as well be an extra twelve hours as I see it. I got cinnamon rolls in the oven,” you raise your voice so Tequila can hear you, “I reckon there’s plenty enough to pay the helpful instructor.”

“Thank you hot stuff!” Tequila yells from the back of the horse and Daisy squeals.

“Hands off Tequila, these are my ladies, get your own!” Jack shouts back and Tequila laughs.

“No! She’s mine!” Tequila hugs an arm around Daisy and makes an evil laugh, galloping the horse back towards the house.

“Well, there goes our girl, running off with a cowboy just like her momma!” You laugh, “Hey, where are my other babies?” You look at him curiously, just seeing him and his Stetson standing there.

“Ah! Right.” You look at him curiously as he unzips his jacket to reveal the two baby’s strapped to his chest and zipped in his fluffy coat, sleeping soundly.

Your heart physically aches at the sight, their two tiny brown heads tucked up into his chest and sleeping soundly in the sling he wore to carry them. They were so snug in there, little cheeks flushed with sleep and their fuzzy curls framing their faces. Upon closer examination when you leaned in to kiss their foreheads and coo, you almost died of cuteness at one little detail.

“Jack, they’re holding hands.” You cooed, stroking their cheeks and kissing their hands.

“I know, been doing it all morning. They were wide awake ‘till I zipped my jacket to keep em’ a little warmer and then they were out like a light.” He chuckles, slinging an arm around you and ushering you back towards the house, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“That’s so cute I can’t stand it.” You chuckled, tearing up a bit with the force of how much you loved your little family. “And you! That is the most attractive thing you’ve ever done hands down. I don’t know why I think it’s so hot, but you sir, are gonna get it later.” You wink when you finally make it to the steps, standing two above him and kissing your startled cowboy with ferocity, leaving him to gawk on the steps.

When you finally jogged into the house, you found Tequila sitting at the island with Daisy, coloring in a Bluey coloring book contentedly while he sipped on coffee from a mug that said ‘World’s Sexiest Cowboy’ and she sipped some milk from a bright pink cup with unicorns on it. To your surprise, Ginger was also sat at the island, laptop open and keys clacking away.

“Well! I got the whole fam damnily in my kitchen this morning! Hi there Ginge!” you smile, squeezing the woman in a hug while you went to retrieve the cinnamon rolls. Your friend snorts and squeezes you back before going back to her typing.

“Bacon anyone?” You grin as Jack finally wanders into the house in a daze, leaving his hat and coat at the door. He looks like he’s been struck by lightning, and with that kiss he might as well have been. He walks up to you as one of the baby’s makes that little infant growl and you chuckle watching lavender rub her face angrily against her dad’s chest.

“Sorry sweet pea, noting coming from there.” You chuckle plucking her from the carrier, she growls again and her legs fold up in that newborn scrunch, her tiny hands flying up towards her face as she stretches. “Oh big stretch!” You chuckle, settling her against your chest before beginning to feed her, not bothering to shield yourself in your own home, you walk around with her eating while you pull out the necessary tools for bacon and eggs.

“Oh no, here goes baby number two.” Jack chuckles as Violet starts to gurgle in her spot as well, he pulls her out and she scrunched up too, giving a particularly fierce growl and a big yawn in the process.

“Oh my little Lion!” Jack groans with the baby, trading you when her sister seems to have had her fill, allowing you to begin to feed the other baby. You scrambled the eggs and put the bacon on a wire rack in the oven, letting it crisp up while Ginger helped Daisy ice the cinnamon rolls, and Jack and Tequila looked over mission plans. Once breakfast had been served up and bellies well fed, you settled into your cleanup routine. Daisy was playing in the living room, and the babies were each being held by one of the agents at the table while they fought sleep, alternating as seemed fit. Everyone was happy and content in their little routines, and you were singing a tune while drying the dishes.

When your tune finished and all the dishes were put away, you looked around and all three little ones were asleep…and so was Tequila.

“Did Tequila?” Your whispered giggle makes Jack smirk.

“Yeah, almost immediately.” Ginger giggles, stroking the soft head of Violet and placing a kiss there.

“Oh goodness.” You giggle and snap a picture of the super spy once again crashing with one of your children asleep on his chest.

“They’re like little pillows of melatonin.” Jack chuckles, reaching out to take the baby from his snoozing best friend, who grumbles and bats his hand away.

“S’my turn.” He mumbles sleepily, adjusting Lavender up under his chin. “Snuggle buddy.”

“Okay Hoss, but when she pees through her diaper you don’t come crying to me.” Jack laughs, getting up to go put Daisy down in your bed for a nap.

You step onto the porch with your second cup of coffee and watch Tequila and Ginger out once they’ve placed their respective cuddle buddies in their cradle. The peaceful silence of the mid morning surrounds your little family and you smile, enjoying the calm of the stillness.

Jack watches you for a moment then. Drinking your coffee, eyes following mother and foal as they meander across the field. Tracing each individual feature lovingly as if they were gonna disappear. You are so beautiful to him. The soft curve of your belly and your breasts speaking of the beautiful gift you’ve given him in your children. The hands that have wiped his tears and built this life with him. The smile that takes his breath away every time he sees it. The eyes that see straight to the heart of him no matter how hard he tries to hide himself from the world. You are his world. The center of his universe, and he is yours.

“Darlin? I hope every morning for the rest of our lives is exactly like this one.” He sighs, burying a hand in your hair. You feel yourself preen at his touch, soaking up all of his caressed with glee.

“I don’t.” You shrug, burrowing your face happily in his chest.

“No?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your crown.

“No, I love living life with you. When it’s messy and complicated, that’s when it’s most fun. I wanna see you grow old, wanna go to birthdays, and weddings, and first days of schools, and graduations, with you. I want to live everyday with you. I don’t need a calm life, I just need you.” Jack could feel his heart swelling with pride at your complete love of him. Your every moment of trust. God he loves you. “Days like this are nice though.” You grin and he laughs.

“Yes they are baby, yes they are.”

#jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey fluff #agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey oneshot #jack daniels #jack daniels x you #kingsmen golden circle #kingsmen secret service #Spotify

[mistyfoxxy]

Post Thanks to Them conversation about the possession and Grimwalker thing, this has been in my head ever since the episode istg.

(A little additional thing, this line that I just thought of: "We could have lost you.... I could have lost you!" (I swear I'm normal about this ship))

Ooo this will be an angsty one!

"Guys, Hunter isn't moving!"

"Call the doctor!"

"Do the human doctors know about possession?" The tears started to form.

"Or grimwalkers?"

"Grimwalkers?" What did she mean? Was he a- stop. 

It didn't matter. What did matter was that Hunter was in her arms. Hunter was cold. Hunter wasn't moving. Hunter was dea-

"No!"  Willow shot upright, sweat dripped down her forehead and everything was blurry. She reached around for her glasses and was more than grateful to feel them. She placed them on he face and looked around. 

They were back in the demon realm of course. Thy had been back for a few days and after traveling each one, looking for signs of life, signs of something familiar. They decided to make a camp and a plan. Hunter had been having... a few nightmares himself. which she could understand. After being. Possessed. That was something that left more than a physical scar. 

She could feel her own internal fear and sorrow weighing on her, but she knew she had to be strong. For them. It wasn't time to play around anymore. She... she shouldn't have ever let it come to that. They should have kept trying, kept looking for a way back. That way they would have never had to deal with him again. Hunter would have never been hurt. He would have never lost Flapjack... She knew it wasn't, not really. But she just felt like maybe it did have something to do with her. Maybe it WAS her fault. 

The ground began to shake a little.

No no no no, calm down Willow. Breathe in. 1. 2. 3. 4. Breathe out. 1. 2. 3. 4.. 

Being home, in their natural realm, Willow had felt a lot more in tune with the plants around her. And that they were more in with her. Way more than before. Maybe it was because she was away for so long and wasn't used to it? or maybe it was because her emotions were running so high? Most magic didn't work that way though, it was connected by spells and the mind, but somehow hers was linked to her emotions. And if she was gonna protect them all, she needed to get that under control. She'd have to numb herself somehow. She had done it before. she could do it again.

But the plants didn't stop. She could almost hear their subtle cries. They tried desperately to tell her something but she didn't know what. And that scared her. Maybe she needed to check on the others? Every night it was the same thing over and over again. She'd wake up from that same hellish nightmare, hear the plants anxiousness, get up and check on the others, and everyone would be fine. 

She looked beside her, the illusionist lay curled up beside her, luckily he slept soundly enough once he was out. She supposed Amity did too. but she never saw her face? Maybe she was awake. But didn't want to bother her... or maybe she didn't care?

No. stop that Willow. It's not about you. 

She stood up and stepped over the sleeping Gus, exiting their makeshift tent. With no real supplies around except for the giant trees and plants, Willow and Amity had constructed two tents. Willow, Gus, and Amity shared one. Hunter, Camila, and Luz shared the other. Camila seemed to be the only one to calm Hunter down their first night here. When he had woke up in a fit o rage, ready to literally murder Belos. She remembered having to manhandle him while Camila convinced him he was ok. That Belos wasn't around, they had to find and stop him first. The mother had cupped his angry face and spoke softly, telling him, everything would be ok baby. She promised. 

Hunter seemed to snap out of it. Crumbling to the ground in tears. Willow wanted to stick around, comfort him. But she was so angry. She wanted revenge just as bad, if not, even more! This was someone she cared sooooo much about. And for that- that monster to do that to him? To treat him as though he was worth nothing. That he was nothing. No worth to anyone. To hurt his best buddy through Hunters body?? She had to run. She remembered practically wrecking a section of the forest in anger. Slumping to the ground in her own tears. Alone. But that was ok. Hunter was ok. Hurt in so many freaking ways! ... but he was alive... and that's all that really mattered to her.

The two hadn't really talked at all since then. 

She sighed and looked up at the sky. If she had a mirror, she knew her eyebags would be showings right now. Kind of like Hunter's when she had me him. That boy seriously didn't get enough sleep back in his golden guard days. And he was so oblivious to think six o'clock was sleeping in. She chuckled a bit at the memory. 

Was it wrong that she wanted to go back to that? If it meant Hunter would at least still be... happy? 

Was he ever really happy?

They had talked a lot, yeah. From their meeting the day she started their flyer derby team. He seemed happy? He seemed thrilled for them to be able to join the 'best coven there was'. And then somehow, for some reason she still didn't know. He changed his mind. He protected them. And then she received a buddy request from him. Titan he was such a slow typer too. Somehow she had found that weirdly cute. She figured he hadn't had any type of social media- or experience with witches his age. But he tried, had sooo desperately tried to get her to like him. To be his friend. She missed... getting those photos. She was sure anyone that knew Hunter would've known how much he loved that bird. But she felt prideful knowing she was the first one he had shared that love with. And now... now she didn't know how to feel.

She had never seen a palisman give their life to a witch before. Well. Grim...walker? 

Did he know he was... a grimwalker? She hadn't heard much about them. She just knew that they went extinct a long time ago. That they were clones. Now that she thought about it, Belos had called him Caleb. That was the same name he used to disguise himself when they met. Caleb Jasper BloodWilliams. Maybe he had always known. 

How... does someone live knowing they're a clone? She didn't care what he was. But she figured that must have been hard on him. Titan... his whole life had been so hard. Why?

"Why do you keep doing this to him?!" She shook her fist at the sky. She didn't know when she had started crying but she could feel the warmth of the tears against her fingers as she rubbed her eyes. "Why?" She cried silently now.

"Willow?"

Her heart dropped. No. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She quickly tried to wipe her face dry, "Yeah?" her voice broke. Dang it.

"I- are you? No she isn't ok, why ask that." He muttered to himself. "Do you...wanna talk about it?"

"What? No! I'm OK!" She laughed forcefully. "What about you? How did you manage to get past Camila and Luz? Surely they... well. I just haven't seen you out here..."

"Because you haven't been sleeping but for maybe two to three hours a night." He stated as a fact more than a question. 

"N-no?"

Hunter walked around her and pulled her hands from her face down. 

She shook her head and tried to pull away, knowing the tears were starting to fall. "I'm sorry I-"

"No." He held one hand up. Using his other to continue to grip hers, "I'm sorry. 

"No! That's not why."

"Is it because I lied to you?" He asked softly, sorrow and guilt clouded his eyes but he held her gaze.

She shook her head. "Hunter, no. I'm not mad at you. I. I was just-" why not just come out with it. He had already caught her crying, and she needed her head in the game instead of being distracted. She needed to get this off her chest. "I was so scared- I-"

Hunter's eyes widened and he released her hand like it was a burning hot coal. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I promise I really thought Belos was here-"

"No!" She grabbed his hands and pulled him back. "Not of you! I could-" she hiccupped. "I could never think you would want to harm any of us. It's just-" she hiccupped again. "We could have lost you... I could have lost you!" She snapped. "You were so cold, you weren't moving! You were- i thought you were dead! You were dead! I would've lost if- if Flap..."

And then he pulled her into a hug.

That was her braking point.  

She hugged him back like every ounce of her being needed to feel him against her. Her fingers curled into his shirt as she gripped the soft material and sobbed violently. Her glasses hurt from her face being pressed so hard against his chest but she didn't care. She just cried until her throat hurt, and soon it turned into soft whimpers and subtle shudders of breath.  

He let her cries die down before softly gripping the sides of her head and pressing her ear against his chest. "See, it's beating... It's not a heart like yours but it works the same way. Its called a galderstone... I'm sure you've heard about those. But... I'm alive." He said softly. 

She nodded and listened to the soft thuds, a soft sigh and hiccup escaped her mouth.

He used one of his hands to hold her close and used the other to rub circles on her back. In attempt to comfort and calm her down. "Do you feel that? I'm moving. And... well. since it is a bit chilly out here, I can only hope I feel warm enough for you." He muttered softly.

She let out a small laugh and nodded, releasing her grip on him just a little bit at the confirmation. Somehow, even after all the crap he had went through, he was comforting her. 

So she pulled away. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have. You're the one... that has been through all of- I'm so sorry."

He frowned at loss of her in his arms. She felt nice there. He hugged her again. 

"What are you-"

"Shh. This is for me."

"Oh... Ok." Willow seemed to like that answer and hugged him back. 

Hunter let out a long sigh and maneuvered them to the ground, only letting her go long enough that they needed before pulling her back into a hug. Willow pulled one arm away and cast a quick spell. A large leaf formed behind them and Hunter gratefully leaned back into it, taking Willow with him.

"You haven't been sleeping."

"Neither have you."

"That's not true." Hunter replied curtly. "I have been getting more sleep then you at least." He muttered when she raised a brow at him.

"Well... I think I'll sleep a little better now. I know you're alive... even better now." She tried.

"Sorry for worrying you, Captain."

"I forgive you. It... wasn't your fault. You fought back, you did everything you could... It was him." she seethed.

Hunter gulped at the coldness in her eyes at the reference of Belos. If he didn't get to Belos and finish him first, the captain would no doubt rip him apart. "That's... not entirely true. I knew what Belos was doing. He was... I knew I would die if I fought him back. Don't ask me how... but I knew. I was the perfect vessel for him. I couldn't let him hurt ya'll through me. Not another one." 

"You were incredibly strong for that." 

"I guess. But I am also made out of some pretty sturdy stuff, so. That helped."

"Did... did you always know... that you were-"

"No. I.. found out after me and Luz were in Belos mindscape. That's... that's how she knew."

She nodded her head.

"Do you think I'm... uhm. Do you think any-"

"No. I don't care what you are. We're all made different. Me, Luz, King, Hooty... It doesn't matter to me."

"But I'm a clone."

"So am I."

"What?!" Hunter almost pulled back at the utter shock he felt, letting confusion roam his mind as she started giggling. 

"Well.. not exactly but I'm made by my parents DNA so... we kind of all are in a sense." She finished softly.

"Oh... I didn't think about it like that I guess." 

Willow let out a yawn and nodded, tired from crying so much and content with her answers, snuggling closer to the boy. She then cast another spell and a large leaf covered their bodies as she leaned into him. "Stay here with me... please?"

Hunter nodded and pulled her closer, letting his head rest on hers after removing her glasses and setting them next to him. He was definitely not as wild of a sleeper as her. They'd be safer on his side.

"When all of this is over... I would like to hang out with you more. Just... the two of us though."

Hunter felt his galderstone pick up pace a little at that. Was she? Did she mean?

He looked down to see the girl already sound asleep. The barest hint of a smile played on her lips before her mouth slightly opened and the snoring began. He smiled at the sight and thought of what future he might be lucky enough to have with her. He didn't know how or why, but the fluttering in his chest seemed to tell him brighter days were ahead. He had hope. 

And even though he had lost Flapjack physically, he knew and heard and felt the bird inside him. He wasn't alone. He'd never be alone again. And he would never let Belos hurt anyone again.

The blonde soon fell into a deep sleep next to the girl beside him, holding her close to him as she moved around in her sleep. The two slept better that night than they had in days. They didn't realize just how bad they would need it for the days to come.

#huntlow #toh spoilers #huntlow oneshot #hunter noceda #Willow Park #thanks to them #spoilerssss!!! #prompts #the owl house #ive been meaning to write something like this for a while #so thanks for the prompt!!!

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

oh boy I just

Keyleth got home earlier then usual, the sun just barely setting as she tried to take off her circlet and mantle quietly and quickly. padding into the living area, she sees the sight of her husband on the couch, Lark sleeping soundly on his chest, a thick deep green blanket loosely strewn over his shoulders as Vaxs hand moved under it, soothingly rubbing his sons back.

She recognizes the hot ginger tea on the table, and the peppermint eucalyptus oil next to it "Another one?" Keyleth asked softly, Vax looking over to her and frowning a little "Yeah, a few hours ago", Keyleth sighed a little and moved over to where they were lying, sitting crossed legged on the floor infront of their son, gently checked his temperature. "He's alright, just a little sore and spooked. him and pip were up near the cherry blossom trees, she said it just started and didn't stop, picked him up and ran all the way back" he spoke quietly, not wanting to jostle or wake Lark. Speaking of which, Keyleth glanced over seeing Piper laying over Vaxs legs, head on the other side of the couch sleeping as well, along with Birdie who was curled up asleep in their rounded arm chair "Neither of them wanted to leave until they knew he was alright" he added, smiling a little before "you think we made our children a little too co-dependant on eachother?" keyelth returned the smile, running her fingers through Larks hair "Maybe just a little" she answered. But the longer Vax watched her, the more increasingly worried her face got, hand shaking a little as she smoothed a thumb over larks cheek, Vax frowned and put his hand over hers softly "He's going to be okay, we'll call pike in the morning, maybe we just missed something last time" he whispered "yeah" she answered sighing a little "he'll be okay' she leaned forward, kissing Larks forehead, there's nothing Vax and Keyleth wouldn't do for their kids

Anon oh my god this is so sweet <3 <3 <3

#happy ending au #critical role #vox machina #vaxleth

[luna-paradoxz]

How to take care of a tired Qilin.

Summary - When Ganyu is super tired she turns into a small, fluffy and super cute qilin and obviously it is up to Xiao to take care of her. 

A/N - You can ready it on FF.net and Ao3. You can support me on Ko-fi or commission me.

Ganyu normally is stable, she can easily control and regulate her forms but there are times when she can't. Today she was tired, very tired, work after the rite of parting had taken a toll on her and when she had finally decided to take rest her body had decided she needs proper rest.

Xiao finds a sleeping qilin under the canopy of trees in Jeyuen Krast where he had come to take care of some work. The small size, the beautiful cold blue fur had given up who the qilin was. He sighed as he shook his head, she had worked herself up to half-death again.

Xiao jumped up to the cliffs and collected the Qingxin flowers that had bloomed there. It took him only 20 mins before he jumped back to where she was and made way to her sleeping form. It has been ages since he has last seen her transform. He sits beside her and carefully starts stroking her very soft fur. She moves then snuggles under his hand and goes back to sleep. For an hour they stay like that, in peace as he enjoys slowly stroking her head and listening to her make small sounds of approval in her sleep.

An hour later her clear pink eyes open and she yawned cutely. She tried to stretch but that was when she noticed a weird thing, her hands were well, not where she expected and felt too small. She blinked her eyes, looked down in surprise, the ground was far too close, her skin was too hot and when she moved her hands she could feel the fur. She took a deep breath and when she looked up, Xiao - who had stopped stroking her fur - stared back at her. His golden eyes met hers and she noticed how big he looked to her right now. She looked down and asked the question she already knew the answer to.

"I turned into my illuminated beast form didn't I?" She sighs as she asks.

He nodded, "You were already changed when I came here." He then crosses his hands, "You should have been careful, you know considering how vulnerable you can be in this form?"

She tries to pout but her mouth is small so it doesn't quite come out the same way still he gets it as he watches her huff cutely "I didn't think I would turn here so suddenly or I would not have come to forests today." She says while looking away and he silently agrees with the voice that says, she is super cute.

He sighs though and instead states "Well today there is some disturbance here, I have cleared it for now but you should go back to the harbour." Ganyu nods, close her eyes and utters the words to change back but when she opens her eyes she is still in her qilin form. With puppy eyes, she looks up to Xiao who shakes his head.

"I have told you when the mind is troubled or tired your body will reflect that." He is scolding her but his voice is kind. She looks down, her little form shaking as she looked like she was going to cry. He looks away feeling a little guilty so he sighs, puts away the issue for now and instead gently picks her up and puts her on his shoulder but that surprises her and she desperately clings to his clothes as she sighs in relief and turns to him pouting.

He explains, "Come on, I will take you to Cloud Retainer, you can take proper rest there." She smiles as she thanks him, he nods at her and asks her to hold him properly. He crunches down and jumps while keeping a gentle hand on her so she doesn't fall off. They jump through the cliffs as he finally reaches the Adeptus abode and stops in front of the long-forgotten stone table. He puts her down on the table where once three sat and took up to call the Adeptus out but no answer was given back to him. He calls out again and then sighs, Ganyu's face falls.

"Looks like she is out." He states the obvious and turns to her while crossing his hands, "What do you want to do now?"

She lets out another cute sigh and takes the forests in, near abode most monsters won't come but who knows how long it will take for Cloud Retainer to come back, at times she would just disappear to try her hand on her new inventions and with no sense of time, she would return days or months later. Surely, she will eventually come back but still, she might as well starve here with no food. She looks up to him, and gives him puppy eyes as she says,

"I can't go back to the harbour, can we head back to your place?" The 'no' was screaming in him but Xiao was not the kind of person who would just leave her here to starve, so, with great conflict (not really), he gave a conflicted sigh and picked her up again and put her on his shoulder. He makes sure she is stable before he moves again. It takes a bit longer but he jumps them down and finally reaches the Washung inn. He heads straight into his room and puts her down on his bed.

She smiles at him, "I am sorry Xiao for the trouble and thank you for helping me."

He silently rolled his eyes and says "I am not going to leave you alone in the wild while you are so weak." She winces but thanks him nonetheless, he sits down near her.

"What do you want to do now?" She looks around to his almost dark room, only lit by a single candle, it was filled with basic furniture and his weapons, nothing more.

She knew that was Xiao's style, she looks up to him and says "I have no work with me so I really have nothing to do right now." He looks down and puts a hand on her head and pushes her gently into the bed.

"Go to sleep, you need that." She looks panicked, not used to resting so much but Xiao glares at her as he lifts his hand and all but commands, "This all happened because you didn't rest, you need to take rest while you can." She whimpers as she nods and with that curls around and lays down, she still stares at him with an eye open and he sighs. He forcefully ignores the screams in his mind about how cute she is and says "I have more work to do so I am leaving, don't leave the room until I am back." He pats her once before he gets up and makes sure the door is closed and goes out and heads to Guili plains to slay more demons. She falls into sleep soon after he leaves as the salty smell of Dihua Marsh fills the room and the chirps of birds just outside. She feels nostalgic for the old centuries and falls into sleep.

He comes back silently as he walks in with airy steps and looks into the darkness to see the qilin sleeping soundly. She was breathing lightly, her mouth open with small snores that he did find cute even if he will never say it out loud. Just like before she was sound asleep so he decided to leave her and headed upstairs to the roof. He sat there below the tree as he looked over Dihua Marsh and took in the wind, he closes his eyes and rests against the bark, slowly examining his wounds today. They were not bad, just a few scratches and bruises so he was sure they will heal up in no time. He watches the clouds drift apart, the silence and the time passing doesn't matter to him. As an Adeptus, he was used to having time pass by him and it did until he came to attention when a certain qilin entered the roof. She looked up to the moon before she looked around trying to find him, it was late in the night so no humans had yet encountered her. As he got up to jump down, a certain manager came in. Ver Goldet came up to the roof, obviously surprised as she took the little Adeptus in, she crouched down and Xiao jumped down in front of them. She looked up and imminently bowed.

"Oh, Xiao-sama I was just checking what was this little animal was doing." She explained, she knew he didn't like it when they encroached on his space.

He turns to the qilin and says "It is ok don't worry she is with me."

The manager was surprised and bowed to the Qilin, she obviously still didn't recognize the secretary and says "Oh, my apologies enlightened Adeptus I didn't mean any rudeness." Ganyu tried to smile as she nods and shakes her head.

"It is quite ok Ver Goldet, and can you get the dinner sent to us in my room?" She nods and takes their order before taking her leave. He turns to her and asks her what she is doing here.

"I noticed you were back so I wanted to check in on you." She looks all over his body, "Are you ok Xiao?" She didn't note any wounds on him. He shakes his head and then turns to the roof and looks at her with an eyebrow raise asking her if she wants to stay here. She nods and he helps her get up the tree barks and they both isolate themselves and get comfortable against the branches. She rubs against the tree and smiles peacefully, the tree feels so alive and healthy.

She then turns out to the marsh and smiled, how beautiful the scene was. Xiao waited for her to fall asleep again, but she had slept quite a lot so she stayed up and stared at the marsh. The past came in flashes as she remembered the past 6 centuries, the war and the people they lost over the years. She remembered the gentle goddess and the Yakshas that lost their lives in a horrible but prideful way. She remembered the adepti that gave their life away for Rex lapis and his building region and the worst thing she remembered was every single day the blood that was spilled by her hands, the blood that still covered her. She turned to Xiao who still suffered because of the war and yet he always seems to take pride in his duties. She wonders how he forgets the blood, the nightmares filled with screams of their victims, she wondered how he forgave his past.

She bites her inner cheek gently as she shakes her head to forget such thoughts. Xiao has lost many people, everyone he got close to has left him, the karma binds him and makes him suffer to this day, she truly can't believe her suffering is more than his. She has it far easier than him she knew. She must stay strong though after all she too was Rex lapis's Adeptus, one of the guardians of Liyue.

She apologises to him silently to think lower of his sufferings before she too let her thoughts go in the wind, they watch the clouds pass until they are called for dinner by the inn lady. She jumps down gracefully and walks alongside him as they walk back to his room and thank her for the dinner. They settle on his simple table as she takes in the small bowl that looks like a cat dish, she pouts as he smirks. She looks up to him and huffs as he chuckles slightly.

"You are the same size as Wei."

She pouts cutely, using all her face muscles and says "You know better than anybody how big Qilins are."

He smirks remembering her illuminated form better than anybody "Well this is the treatment you get when one doesn't take care of oneself."

She whimpers as she agrees with his words. His scolding though was a small jab and he chuckled as he saw her whimpering, Ganyu was far too accepting when people criticized or scolded her, "I have learned my lesson, Xiao." She says as she pouts at him and he gives her a nod while looking away, she was far too cute for her own good.

He eats his almond tofu as she finished her vegetarian albone and he does note it is quite a small portion from what she eats normally, so he lets her finish and then calls out to her and pats a spot on his lap, she jumps and settles down and looks up to him as he half-smiles and scoops little of his almond tofu and offers to her. She looks surprised as she confirms if it's ok, he nods and she slowly nibbles on it. He makes her eat more before he gives her a pat and finishes his own meal.

"You feel better now?" She nods.

She smiles at him, "Thank you for sharing your food, Xiao." He nods and she jumps down as he gets up and puts their plates out as she decides to walk around his room and take it all in. It's the first time she has been inside, after all, it will also probably be the last time too. Everyone knows well Xiao doesn't like anyone in his personal space. She can smell better in this form so she takes in his musky smell, and blushes bright red not that anyone will notice considering her fluffy fur. As she jumps on his storages, he comes back and folds his hands and stares at her with flat eyes.

"What are you investigating Ganyu?" She huffs as she glares at him.

"I was just looking around a bit. I was not poking my nose anywhere."

He gives her another look before he sits down on his bed and picks up his lance and starts cleaning it. She comes near him and settles beside him, as she watches his practised elegant moves as he cleans up his jade lance, they sit there peacefully until he turns and says, "Did you bring your bow?" She nods but since she can't turn back she can't call it out right now. He sighs and instead continues with his lances. The process is calming and she nestles herself on his side as she continues watching his hands. They are quite skilled she notes and blushes when her imagination goes a bit far. She shakes her head in the silence and gets back to watching him. As the calm envelopes her she slowly drifts to slumber without even realising.

He looks down as he finishes his jade lance and sighs, she was asleep again, he wonders truly how long it has been since she has last gotten decent sleep. He slowly pats her head and she unconscious snuggles into it and it makes him slightly blush, his heart once again acting up. It was truly weird feelings, these human emotions that didn't belong to him. He takes away his hand and continues his work, as usual, the Yaksha doesn't sleep but his body does relax as she sleeps at his side. It feels natural, he muses as he works for his hands, it feels so natural to have her on his side. It has been so long since he has spent a whole day with her. It all felt so natural and relaxing and his head has been calm and his pain subdued. This is not the first time he has realised the effect she has on him, they have been fighting by each other side for centuries but this is the first he can fully bathe in that peaceful feeling without having to worry about anything else. He acknowledges the fact that Ganyu was special to him whether he liked it or not she had made herself special to him and now all he can do is to choose whether to act upon the fact or not. He looks down at her, the choice is easy but really hard to make at the same time. He is not a being that deserves happiness and yet it seems destiny doesn't want to play fair to him. Still, he smiles a little, they have time, they always had time so he can make his own choice. He hopes she will wait for him.

The hours pass and as the clock turns 5, a body suddenly appears beside him, snuggling against his shoulder. He does blush as Ganyu, now in her human form decides to still keep snuggling, her hands wound up holding the edges of his shirt as her head naturally fits in the creek of his neck and her body snuggles right up to his shoulder. He takes a deep breath and banishes all the evil thoughts, it was wrong of him to think of Ganyu like that but just like voices they just make themselves heard, his voices laughing maniacally and calling him a beast. He knows that and he should probably detach her, but she looks too comfortable for him to do that and he rationalises she will probably return to work once she is up so he should let her take her rest as much as she can. She already works so hard and as her mentor, the least he can do is make sure she is taking proper rest. So we that reasoning, he lets her nap while taking stolen glances at her and then chiding at himself to act so immorally. It was unbecoming of an Adeptus to act on such basic human desires but he can't hide the heat filling inside him as she keeps snoring on his arm.

His happy times (he will refuse that vehemently) ends when half an hour later Ganyu wakes up and jumps two feet back when she realises the situation. He sighs and schools himself back to his blank look as she blushes wildly and starts apologising. It makes him hurt that she thinks he is some kind of short-fused man, he won't get mad at her for nodding off on him. He doesn't say that as he puts a heavy hand on her head and makes her look up, their eyes meet and all he says.

"Stop apologising."

She nods and he lets her go. He gets up, stretches his muscles, putting away his lances he turns towards her, she definitely looks well-rested. Her skin colour has returned and her muscles don't seem as tense as before. He nods at her and asks her when she is leaving.

"I will probably get breakfast and then head back to the harbour." She bows when he gets up, "Thank you Xiao for letting me stay and rest. I probably would have gotten more tired if I stayed out there."

He sighs and crosses his hands, "Just remember to take rest Ganyu. You work too hard." She sighs in defeat as she nods, "Those humans won't fall apart if you take rest for one day." She nods, as usual he is brash when giving advice, well she is someone who likes that part of him so she can't really say anything. She smiles at him, thanks him and takes her leave. He won't ever admit that he will miss her for the next week while working.

She walks into the Liyue harbour, well-rested and well-fed. The sea breeze greets her morning as the merchants start the day and ships start docking for the day, some greet her and others are too focused to do so. She greets them back and as she walks to Liyue harbour, she stops near the dock area and looks out at the sea, the sea hasn't changed but the city has changed quite a lot. A lot of things have changed in these centuries but some things do remain unchanged she muses as she remembers Xiao, he has remained the same and yet she knows he has changed too, he after all smiled again. She can remember the last time he smiled, it was in the field of glaze lilies beside the gods and Yakshas, their little family back then. Now, she knows he doesn't smile any more but yesterday he had and she hopes she had played a little part in it. She knows these feelings will remain unchanged no matter the centuries and one day she will act upon them, change will come and she can choose to embrace it.

Well, not now though, she knows they can take their time. They have always had plenty of time.

#my writing #genshin impact #xianyu #xiao x ganyu #xiao's birthday gift

[sylvie-writes]

Pixie

pairing: steve rogers x wife!reader x daughter!sarah rogers

prompt: Dec 12 - Elf On The Shelf 

warnings: none that i can think of! 

word count: 1814

author’s note: pardon any mistakes! this is my first entry for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Home For The Holidays!

another a/n: I’m sorry that the writing style on this isn’t superb. I have a lot to do today and I totally forgot about this, yet I still really wanted to write it. Hopefully you all still enjoy! xoxo

PART OF MY CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION (check the tag for the masterlist)

(gif below is not mine, nor do i take credit for it

“Look, Daddy. Teacher says every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings!” Zuzu looked to her father and he sweetly smiled down at her. “That’s right, that’s right.”

With that the movie ended and the credits rolled. Tonight was the first day of Steve’s holiday break, allowing him to spend some family time with you and Sarah. Since Steve was still trying to catch up on new movies and such, you suggested It’s a Wonderful Life. It was released just a few years after he went into the ice so you assumed he would enjoy it, as would Sarah. The toddler shared a love for vintage things just as he father. To her, it was so fascinating that Steve was from another time that she always begged for stories. 

At the moment, you three were curled up on the couch in your humble and small Brooklyn apartment. Sarah’s tiny figure was half laid on your lap. Her head was resting on your sweatpants-clad thighs while her own legs were tucked into her body to retain warmth. As for Steve, you were leaned up against his chest, laying at an angle while the man remained faced forward, one muscular arm wrapped around your shoulders. Occasionally he’d turn his head to shower you in some form of affection. 

“So, how’d you like the movie, Stevie?”

Steve shifted in his seat, now enveloping you with both arms, careful of Sarah who was still sleeping. He smiled down on you with a dopey yet adorable and loving smile. 

“I think that it was a great suggestion, doll.”

With vigor he immediately cut off your unspoken words and kissed you deeply. Suddenly, Steve’s not so innocent kiss was cut short when Sarah made you both remember her presence, the ever so quiet and sleepy “eww” making you both laugh. 

“Well hello, sleepyhead.” 

Sarah pushed herself up from her laid out position and tiredly scrambled to her feet. She then ran to stand between Steve’s legs and leaned forward to lay against his chest. 

“M‘sleepy, Daddy.”

Your daughter’s eyes started to close and Steve took that as a sign to go ahead and scoop her up in his arms. Steve did so and then bent over a bit for you to kiss the dozing little girl goodnight. 

….

As Steve helped Sarah get ready for bed, you got did your nightly routine as well. Once you had finished and made it to bed, Steve soon joined you, the two of you ready to turn in for the night. 

By the time the lights were out and both you and your husband were sleeping soundly, it was a bit past midnight. 

For a few hours you slept comfortably, occasionally intertwining your legs with Steve’s and such, especially since that man was such a bed hog and he didn’t even know it. 

Around four in the morning you suddenly popped up having remembered one important thing. 

Today was December 1st.

To the average person it was just another day, but to your daughter Sarah, it was the time for her elf on the shelf, Pixie, to arrive home for the holidays. You mentally scolded yourself for forgetting such a thing as Sarah had been talking non stop all week long about Pixie’s upcoming visit. She was so excited and her little friends at school told tales about their elves on the shelf making your daughter even more excited. 

Without second thought, you popped out of bed despite your body screaming at you to go back under the oh-so inviting sheets and to wrap yourself into Steve’s warm embrace.

As you had gotten out of the bed, you pushed Steve’s heavy arm off of your waist, and let’s just say you could have been a bit gentler with your actions.

“Woah (y/n), what’s wrong?”

Somnolent yet very much alert, Steve now sat up in the bed, even reaching to turn on the lamp, blinding you both. 

After a bit of a hiss, you scurried to his side of the bed to turn off the nuisance of a light. You had calmed down a bit and just quickly ran your fingers through Steve’s messy hair while kissing his forehead and purposely coaxing him back to sleep.

“I have to go and find Sarah’s elf on the shelf. She’ll be heartbroken if Pixie isn’t out tomorrow morning.”

Steve nodded having understood the matter. He then got out of bed despite your pleas for him to go back to bed. 

From there, you and Steve spent a good half an hour searching through your shared closet in search of that disguised cardboard box that held a select few of Christmas decorations, including Pixie. Sarah has always had a knack for finding tucked away gifts or just anything you’ve hidden from her for that matter. That is why you and Steve decided to throw the elf on the shelf and its accessories in that box so she wouldn’t find it. 

Eventually, you found said item. The whole process would have been faster if it wasn’t the middle of the “night”, but with it being so early in the morning, you two had to carefully dance around each other in hopes of not waking your sleeping angel. 

Together, you and Steve quietly tiptoed down the squeaky hallway. One would think that after all of those stealth missions, you and Steve would be able to handle sneaking around your own apartment, but alas, children are a lot more attentive than the enemies you have dealt with in the past. 

After spending a few minutes tediously assembling Pixie and her accessories, you and Steve finally came to design a finished project you both thought Sarah would enjoy. 

You and Steve had decided to set Pixie on the kitchen counter with her own bowl of cereal as Sarah was always up before you both. The little miss would be preparing her bowl of cereal and hopefully catch sight of her elf friend. 

Steve looked to you and groggily grinned, the two of you now a bit awake from the minimal adrenaline rush. 

Unfortunately, that lasted for a very short time because the minute you laid your head on Steve’s shoulder, your eyes shut and apparently you unintentionally fell asleep. It was no use fighting the sleep as it was inevitable at this point. Steve just chuckled at how easily you succumbed to the slumber as you were just energetically talking to him not even seconds ago. He then tenderly placed his hands upon your back and scooped you up bridal style, carrying you back to bed for a few more hours of much needed sleep. 

That morning you and Steve both woke up, same time as usual, and to no surprise, found Sarah in the kitchen. Although, before you both rounded the corner to step foot into the kitchen, you heard Sarah’s voice as she attempted to whisper. Looking to Steve with furrowed brows he looked back at you with shrugged shoulders. It wasn’t until you quickly peaked your head around the corner that you realized she was talking to Pixie. 

When you both found that out, you decided to stay behind the wall for a minute more to let her finish telling the elf what she wanted for Christmas. Luckily, either you and Steve were always to overhear what she’d ask for from Santa. Of course she still wrote a letter to Santa and you both would use that, but sometimes she’d drop a few things here and there to elf on the shelf. 

Though this time when you heard her request, it caught you off guard. 

“Hi Pixie, Mommy and Daddy are sleeping right now and I wanted to tell you this now before they wake up.”

Sarah placed her finger to her lips and made a shushing sound. You quietly laughed as did your husband. 

“Anyway, Daddy never gets to stay home for Christmas and I know this is a lot to ask for, so I wasn’t going to ask for anything else. I was hoping you could tell him I said this. As Mommy says, it’s always better to ask in ‘vance.” 

With that Sarah blew a kiss to the elf and turned back to her bowl of cereal. 

As quietly as possible, you once more turned to Steve who was practically breathing down your neck. Little had Sarah known that her father had indeed taken off the whole month of December. 

Sarah was just an angel, but what really tugged at the strings of your heart was when she asked for this and was willing to sacrifice a few silly toys just for her father to stay home this year.

That child was just as selfless as her father. 

Communicating with your eyes, both you and Steve silently agreed to tell her now. That way she’d still ask for some real gifts because what’s the fun in Christmas for a kid if they can’t open something from under the tree? 

So maybe you and Steve liked to spoil her during Christmas…

What? Sarah was your only baby and as any parent would do, you’d spoil her, and only because she was such a good child. 

With that, you and Steve finally walked into the kitchen where Sarah excitedly greeted you both. 

“Hey honeybun, Daddy and I have something important to tell you.”

You rested your forearms on the kitchen counter, where Sarah sat directly across from you. 

Steve came to join you by your side, a bowl of cereal in his hands. 

Sarah set down her spoon and intently looked at you both. 

“You know how I’m not always home for Christmas, hon?”

Sarah sadly shook her head, looking to Steve who was currently talking. 

“Well… I was able to talk off some time so I get to spend all of December with my two favorite girls!”

Immediately Sarah jumped from her chair, making you freak out for a second, and then she ran around the counter to hug Steve who welcomed her with open arms.

She wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck and he swayed back and forth as you watched the adorable interaction between the two. 

When you both weren’t looking, Sarah discreetly waved to Pixie and sent her a quiet “thanks.” 

Steve’s crazy frequency of hearing undoubtedly picked up the sound and he tried to look over his shoulder where Sarah was resting.   

“Did you say something, doll?”

Sarah picked her head up from its place on Steve's shoulder and she leaned back to be face to face with the man. Nodding her head “no,” she kissed his nose and you adoringly smiled at the two. 

Needless to say, that was the best Christmas gift Sarah could have asked for. Well, besides for the puppy she put on her list. And no, you and Steve didn’t cave on that one. 

#hbc home for the holidays #chris evans #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n #dad steve rogers #steve rogers x sarah #sarah rogers #dad steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x wife reader #sylvie writes christmas celebration

[valdomarx]

Geralt thinks he might be losing his mind.

He’s distracted, and short-tempered, even more so than usual. Every time he looks at Jaskier his heart rate rockets and his palms start sweating.

He can’t stop noticing Jaskier, everything he does, the way he stands, the way he moves, the way he nibbles his bottom lip when he’s thinking. He can’t focus, and if he can’t get this under control he’s going to get one or both of them killed.

His first thought is magic. Some kind of spell, maybe. But his medallion is still against his chest, and when he surreptitiously stops by a herbalist’s shop in a nearby town, the woman there finds no trace of a spell or curse on him.

Perhaps, he thinks, the problem is Jaskier. He’s wondered why Jaskier doesn’t seem to age, and how he has the energy to traipse across the continent after him. Perhaps Jaskier is hiding a secret. Perhaps he’s not as human as he seems.

Jaskier could be a siren. That would explain how he can enchant a crowd with a simple song, as Geralt has seen him do a hundred times, and how he could have enchanted Geralt as well. But when Geralt hands him his silver sword, ostensibly to hold while he cleans out their packs, Jaskier’s skin doesn’t smoke or burn. Instead, he turns the sword over in his hands, inspecting the sleek blade and the tightly bound leather of the grip. He runs a thumb over the edge to check its sharpness and nicks himself, clumsy as ever. Before Geralt can berate him, he brings his thumb up to his mouth, and then Geralt is distracted all over again by the way Jaskier sucks the digit between his plump lips, and that’s just not fair.

Maybe Jaskier is an incubus. That would make sense, given his fondness for the ladies and his obvious good looks. But if he’s been filing down his horns all this time, he’s done an awfully good job of it. Geralt finds an excuse to run a hand through Jaskier’s hair, and he doesn’t feel any bumps beneath his fingers. But Jaskier does lean into his touch, smiling softly, and Geralt’s heart flutters in a most unhelpful way.

.

Just because Geralt is dealing with an unwelcome onslaught of feelings, that doesn’t mean he has to make it Jaskier’s problem. He does his best to maintain the usual tone of their interactions: gruff and to the point. Businesslike. Practical.

He thinks he’s doing rather well at that. At least until they stop at a tavern and Jaskier performs for the locals, catching the eye of a pretty girl.

Geralt waits for Jaskier to head to the bar and he does, perhaps, talk a little louder than is strictly necessary about the horrible monsters which stalk anyone close to a witcher. And he does, perhaps, feel a mean twist of satisfaction when the pretty girl’s face pales and she runs from the tavern.

He feels a little bit guilty when Jaskier returns to find her gone, but Jaskier looks tired anyway and readily takes him up on the suggestion that they retire for the night, so he can’t have been that disappointed after all.

But when Geralt returns from washing and walks into their room he stops dead, feet frozen on the threshold. Because Jaskier is there, lounging on the bed. And he’s wearing one of Geralt’s shirts and nothing else. The black shirt hangs off his frame in a manner that’s somehow more obscene than if he’d just been naked.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Geralt manages to growl, and his voice only cracks a little bit.

“My clothes all need washing.” Jaskier shrugs, and the collar of the shirt slides down to reveal more of the smooth planes of his shoulder and the dark hair dusting his chest. Geralt can’t stop staring. “I borrowed this from your pack. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Geralt concentrates on getting his legs to work and takes a few steps toward the bed. Up close, it’s even worse. Jaskier smells like Geralt. No, he smells like he’s Geralt’s.

His bard in his shirt in his bed.

Something primal and possessive thrums through him, and he can’t tear his eyes away from how the black fabric highlights the pale skin of Jaskier’s throat, the way the hem of the shirt floats around the meat of his thighs. Blood pounds in his ears.

“Are you coming to bed then?” Jaskier asks, an impish smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Bed. Right. For sleeping. That’s what they’re supposed to be doing.

Stiffly, keeping his eyes firmly averted, he manages to climb into bed and resist the urge to tear the shirt off Jaskier and do.... something unwise. He curses his luck that the bed is so small, with barely enough room to keep a decent amount of space between them.

He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. As long as he doesn’t turn his head and look at Jaskier, everything will be fine.

Jaskier fusses and rearranges himself several times, energetic as ever, but Geralt steadfastly ignores him and soon enough he’s rolled over onto his side, back to Geralt, and fallen asleep.

Geralt allows his eyes to flick over Jaskier’s sleeping form then, and it still strikes him as astonishing that anyone could feel safe and trusting enough to sleep next to a witcher. But there Jaskier is, content to the point of naivety, vulnerable and fearless.

In sleep, Jaskier’s face softens and he looks even younger than usual, his typically animated features relaxed into something graceful and delicate. He sleeps soundly, unconcerned by the voices from the bar downstairs or the rustle of the nearby trees in the wind.

Geralt is fidgety and on edge, every sound blaring into his consciousness. He’s exquisitely aware of the feel of the rough cotton sheet beneath him, the warmth pouring off Jaskier, the gentle rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest, the comparatively furious rhythm of Jaskier’s heartbeat.

It takes him many, many hours, but eventually he sleeps.

.

Geralt wakes the next morning warm and comfortable, with a low thrum of pleasure spreading throughout his body. Something feels good, really good, and as he rolls his hips the pleasure spikes, heady and potent, waves of satisfaction running through him like the ocean lapping at a sandy beach.

He nuzzles into something soft and familiar, a soothing, spicy scent washing over him, a distant thrill of mounting gratification building inside him. Whatever this is, he's greedy for more of it.

It takes a few minutes until he wakes up fully and realises that he’s shifted in the night: His face is nestled into Jaskier’s hair, his arm is around Jaskier’s waist, his leg is thrown over Jaskier’s hip, and his dick is rock hard and  grinding up against Jaskier’s arse.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He stills, trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to extract himself from this situation without making it any more embarrassing than it already is. He’s planning his exit strategy, trying to untangle their limbs, trying to keep his breath low and steady so as not to betray his roiling emotions, and then Jaskier’s hand curls around his and squeezes.

“Don’t stop,” Jaskier says, voice thick with sleep, face still buried in the pillow.

And that’s. Gods. That’s exactly what he wants to hear, on one level, and some kind of tantalising torment on another. Because Jaskier surely can’t mean that, he can’t seriously want some lust-addled witcher rutting up against him. Who would want that?

Jaskier continues to defy his expectations, though, and rucks up his shirt to his waist to expose his bare ass, and Geralt can’t stop the little gasp that escapes his throat at that.

“C’mon,” Jaskier says, voice still thick but undeniably awake now, and Geralt is weak because before he can get a hold of himself he’s shoving his own shorts down and rubbing up against the soft swell of Jaskier’s ass, warm and smooth and deliriously good.

His cock slides between Jaskier’s thighs and Jaskier squeezes, and he’s dizzy with it for a minute, the heat and the scent of Jaskier and the strong grip of muscles around his cock. He fucks between Jaskier’s legs with abandon, and judging by the way Jaskier reaches down and furiously jerks himself off he’s enjoying it plenty too.

If Geralt cranes his neck he can just see the tip of his cock sliding between Jaskier’s legs, periodically bumping up against his balls or rubbing against Jaskier’s hand where he’s working himself.

He grabs onto Jaskier’s hips and holds on tight, tight enough that he’s going to leave bruises if he’s not careful, and then he’s picturing Jaskier walking around for days with impressions on his skin in the exact shape of Geralt’s spread fingers, marked and owned. That’s really all it takes to push him over the edge, and the next thing he knows he’s coming all over Jaskier’s ass and thighs with a low moan.

He nestles closer, making an utter mess of both of them but he doesn’t care, he just wants to feel Jaskier in his arms and smell that maddening scent that’s been hovering around him for days. They’re so close that he can feel Jaskier’s approaching orgasm, feel the way his muscles clench and his toes curl, and feel the moment he lets go and comes with a breathy sound over his hand and the bed and Geralt’s shirt.

Geralt winces. He’s going to have to burn that shirt, because it’s now covered in both of their seed and he’ll never be able to look at it again without thinking of this morning and this moment, and that’s not the kind of reminder he needs.

They lie there for a time, bodies intertwined, just breathing together. Soon Geralt knows he’ll have to push himself up and clean himself off and go back to pretending that this... whatever it is between them... is enough for him, that he’s happy, that he‘s getting what he wants.

His heart aches at the thought of slipping back into their routine of bickering or casual friendship, interspersed with moments of unspoken lust. Not that he doesn’t want that, he certainly does, but he longs for something more. He doesn’t know how to name it, but he knows what he wants is too much for someone like him to ask for.

Still, for now, he lets himself inhale Jaskier’s scent and feel Jaskier’s solid weight in his arms, and he lets himself indulge in the fantasy of what life might look like if this were something he could actually have.

#geralt wrestles ineffectively with his feelings and his morning wood #feat. jaskier in geralt's clothes 😏 #geralt and jaskier's brothel adventures #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Inspiration Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 灵感之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

An early birthday gift to the embodiment of sunshine, @moondusks​ :>

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

A pleasantly warm and light breeze lifts the muslin curtains, bringing with it the fresh atmosphere of early winter.

Lemon yellow sunlight filters lazily through the trees, casting shadows on the window and carrying the scent of peppermint.

It’s an incomparably ordinary, and incomparably comfortable afternoon.

It’s very suitable for heading out and casting aside one’s cares - laying down on a grass patch, basking in the warm sunlight.

Or perhaps taking a stroll along the street, and sitting down in a cafe one has been longing to visit.

That’s what Kiro and I originally planned to do. 

However, the cruel reality is...

MC: Why does this proposal have to be done by next week ahhhh--

Kiro: Why can’t I write this song properly--

MC: Why do people need to be exploited by work--

Kiro: [sighs] And why are people constrained by inspiration--

Because of a sudden program, I have no choice but to work overtime.

And Kiro, who is about to record a new album, has remained dissatisfied towards the title track.

Due to the pressures of reality, we have to give up our original plans of having a fulfilling and happy date.

The both of us are working overtime at home.

Kiro: [groans] Farewell, my rosy weekend. Goodbye, my donuts and soup dumplings which have vanished into thin air.

MC: And brown sugar milk coffee, taro pies, and lava cakes...

Even though we sing the same tune, complaining dejectedly about not being able to go out, the both of us work non-stop on our tasks.

I can hear the crisp sound of Kiro tapping his pen rhythmically against the music stand. Occasionally, his soft humming can also be heard.

Seeing him working hard and struggling with himself, the corners of my lips lift upwards.

Even though we’re unable to head outside to do something interesting, it isn’t a bad thing to be together at home like this, channelling effort into our differing goals.

In some way, this should also count as a type of date.

I smile, adjusting my posture on the bean bag so that it’s more comfortable for typing, then continue immersing myself in the battle against the program proposal.

-

The proposal I’m working on is extremely urgent, and has to be settled by next week. 

Not only that, but this sudden program has an importance accompanied by a non-proportional preparation timing.

And during such a period of high stress, the goddess of inspiration, who typically shows concern for me, has gone on a faraway vacation, and has  completely vanished.

I have trouble writing. When I completely lose my train of thought, I exchange helpless glances with the few words on the screen.

In the end, I give up and pause the hands which have been maltreating the keyboard, preparing to pour myself a glass of water, and attempt to change my mood.

Lifting my head, I subconsciously glance in Kiro’s direction.

The curtains separate the room from sunlight, casting Kiro in a faint shadow as he leans against the window while composing a song.

Busy writing the new song, he hasn’t had time to maintain the state of his hair. 

Finding stray hairs a hindrance as they block his vision, Kiro holds a rubber band in his mouth, combing his hair to the back, and ties it into a small ponytail.

Those azure eyes stare at the music score in concentration. They are as clear and bright as always, but lack the flash of light he usually has when inspiration strikes.

Reference materials and abandoned drafts are scattered all over, which seem to isolate him on a higher platform which I’m unable to reach.

Completely engrossed in creating his work, even his languid sitting posture exudes a cold and lonely feeling for some reason.

For a moment, I feel slightly dazed.

Kiro: Let me guess. Is Miss Chips lacking inspiration, and having trouble writing the proposal?

Kiro suddenly removes his earplugs, turning his head to look at me. 

He shows me a brilliant smile, and the room is once again filled with sunlight.

MC: How did you know? 

He stands up as well, stretching himself, turning back into the him that I’m most familiar with.

It’s as though the him of just a few seconds ago was simply an illusion surfacing from work-induced stress.

Kiro: Hmm... since just now, the sound of your keyboard has been intermittent, unlike how smooth it usually is.

While he speaks, Kiro walks to the snack cabinet and rifles through it carefully, as though he’s a small squirrel searching for a pine cone from the hole of a tree in winter.

Kiro: So I thought - Miss Chips is probably just like me, entering a bottleneck at work.

He splits the low-fat and sugar-free healthy snack into half, placing it into my hand.

Kiro: A little reward for the hardworking you. Now, do you feel more motivated?

MC: It sounds quite embarrassing... but I don’t think I can work any harder.

I munch on the snack which gives me absolutely no happiness, saying this with a sullen expression.

MC: The presentation is next week, but I still have no idea how to go about writing the proposal. Right now, I just want to turn into an ostrich and curl up into a ball, avoiding the presentation meeting in a few days... and also avoiding my unmotivated self.

I turn the laptop towards him, letting him see the lonely and piteous 235 words in the document.

MC: I even want to knock on my brain forcefully, checking to see if new ideas will appear.

Kiro: Hmm... I see...

Kiro curls his finger, tapping it gently against my forehead. He leans closer to my ear and asks a question.

Kiro: Nice to meet you, Miss Chips’ inspiration. May I know if you’re at home?

Following his action, I close my eyes and sense it carefully.

After a short silence, I furrow my brows and lift my head, looking at him bitterly.

MC: Hello, the user you’re calling is not in service...

Kiro reaches out to rub the area between my eyebrows, smoothening out the creases on my face.

After ensuring that I’m no longer a “bun”, he sighs, laying down next to me.

[Note] Chinese buns (包子 - “bao zi”)  look like this i.e. they look like wrinkles:

Kiro: [sighs] Actually, I’m the same as you. There’s a song I especially wish to write, and I really like the concept and composition. I want to try writing a song on understanding and interpreting the theme of “love” from my own perspective.

He pauses, lifting his fringe with a wry smile. After give it a forceful rub, he causes his originally tidy hairstyle to become fuzzy.

Kiro: But no matter how I change it, I’m not satisfied. I keep feeling as though something is missing from the music. There’s no soul.

I untie the string, using a hand to smoothen his hair, helping him tie it up properly again.

MC: Whether it’s “My Treasure” or the song we wrote together last Christmas, aren’t they very incredible? They’re tender and sweet - it’s as though they can be sung into the hearts of every listener, enabling them to recollect the best memories.

Kiro: That won’t do.

Kiro flips over and sits up, his eyes serious.

Kiro: Those songs write about us. They write about you. I have several thousand ways to write about how adorable you are, but I don’t know which timbre I should use to face myself.

Not realising how potent his words are in causing one to blush, Kiro sighs once again after speaking, laying back down.

Kiro: [sighs] Looks like this time, we’ve both chosen subjects which are very difficult for us.

-

Kiro: Since we’ve both sunk into a major crisis--

Kiro: Want to try Kiro’s special, secret recipe and see if it can sort out our thinking?

Kiro shoots me a wink.

MC: Sure. Do I need to do anything?

Kiro: At this stage, all you have to do is sit here.

While Kiro speaks, he picks up the abandoned drafts he had casually thrown on the floor earlier, using them to enclose us within a square frame.

Kiro: This is the thinking box that we’re trying to escape from.

He sets down the final sheet of paper, completing this “box”, his tone light.

Kiro: Right now, we’re both locked in it.

MC: In that case, will the superhero help me break this box, so we can have a breakthrough together?

Kiro: Nope. 

Kiro steps out of the square frame made out of drafts, reaching out to seize Cello, who is sleeping soundly on the cat climbing shelf. Then, he places it in my arms.

Cello: Meow?

Kiro nods in satisfaction, then jogs over to the kitchen, bringing over some fruits.

Under the confused gaze of both me and Cello, he makes several trips in and out, bringing over soft cushions, comfortable blankets, and two cups of sugar-free hot chocolate.

Finally, Kiro shifts another bean bag over, and sits down beside me.

Kiro: I’m incredibly sorry to tell you that even a superhero can’t find a way to jump out of this box.

Somewhat pleased with himself, he takes me into his arms with one hand, letting me lean on him.

Kiro: But at the very least, I can keep you company in this box. And together, we can see what exactly in this box has left us so bewildered that we’re unable to get out even after such a long time. 

As he speaks, he tousles Cello’s fuzzy head, and it releases a comfortable meow.

Kiro: We can also decorate it a little, so the box is more comfortable. 

MC: Pfft...

I can’t help but laugh. The sense of dejectedness due to work earlier seems to be cleared up with his actions.

I reach out, pointing at a corner of the ceiling in a joking manner. 

MC: See that? Over there, there’s an MC who just can’t write a proposal, and she’s currently curled up and for waiting for mushrooms to sprout on her... I don’t know how to deal with it.

Kiro nods in understanding, pointing at a corner of the room.

Kiro: Ladies and gentlemen, look here. Here is a Kiro whose inspiration is stuck, and is currently drawing circles. 

MC: When you put it like that, it sounds pretty cute...

While he speaks, I more or less understand why Kiro went to such trouble to do this.

Kiro: That’s right. To me, whether it’s that ostrich-like MC, or that MC who has mushrooms growing on her, I want to hug all of them properly.

Kiro: And then tell her solemnly - that you’re already very amazing. Even if you don’t think you’re good enough, I still like you very much.

Kiro: Just as much as a little bear in winter liking the warm blue sky and green grass.

As he speaks, he tightens his grip on my hand, leaning his chin on top of my head.

Surrounding me are soft blankets and cushions. In my arms is a cat which has gone back to sleep.

Behind me, Kiro’s body temperature and scent encase me tenderly, making me feel so contented that I want to release a joyful sound together with Cello.

I close my eyes in happiness, nuzzling the crook of Kiro’s neck.

The things that were bothering me just a second ago, weighing me down with stress and emotions and leaving me unable to breathe, vanish like smoke and disperse like clouds.

It’s as though I’ve awakened from an incredibly long nightmare, discovering that sunlight is illuminating my surroundings, and that a cup of hot chocolate is waiting at the bedside.

MC: Kiro, why do you always know of such ingenious methods?

I lift my head to look at him, gazing at that blue colour which seeps into one’s heart, and the golden colour traced by sunlight.

Our foreheads lean against each other, and he smiles as he responds.

Kiro: You were the one who taught me these things. Why are you asking me instead?

MC: Me? 

Kiro: Last time, there were numerous occasions when I felt I couldn’t create works that were good enough, and I’d start to doubt myself. I’d lock myself in a corner, and start having internal fights with myself. 

Along with his words, it’s as though I see the Kiro I was barely acquainted with back then, and how he had endured several days and nights of work.

He had locked himself up in a room, helpless and frantic, not leaving any space for himself to breathe. 

Kiro: But during those times, you were always by my side. You told me that no matter how I was, you’d like me all the same. 

As he speaks, he taps on my laptop. 

Kiro: Actually, it’s the same today. 

Kiro: Don’t just look at how I appear now. Actually, I’m in a terrible state. 

Kiro: On one hand, I’m forcing myself to finish this work quickly. On the other hand, I’m so irritated and annoyed at myself, who lacks creativity. 

Kiro: There were many times when I wanted to just give up. 

Kiro: But...

He lifts a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingertip. In the end, he pulls it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Kiro: Each time I heard your intermittent yet continuous typing sounds, I’d tell myself that next to me, you’re still working hard. 

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also feeling perplexed, but she’s still persevering in work. 

Kiro: So I told myself - how could I give up before you did?

Kiro: I must definitely persevere a little longer, so you see how dashing I am. 

Kiro relates this softly at my ear. His tone, which harbours a smile, sounds as though he’s depicting a treasure.

I indulge myself in his arms, greedily enjoying the present tranquility and warm atmosphere for a while longer.

I always feel that Kiro is a star whenever I go off course. He always illuminates the pathway, pointing the way forward for me. 

Actually, without even realising it, it’s because we’ve seen each others’ light that we could press on.

Encouraging each other, and feeling the way forward in the darkness. 

Until we break through the predicament together.

MC: Thank you, my superhero. I think I’ve regained the ability to fight a little more.

A soft chuckle brushes my ear. Then, a warm and gentle touch is planted on my lower jaw. 

Reminiscent of the whiskers of a kitten brushing past, spreading into a plain of sweetness.

Kiro: At your service anytime, my Miss Chips.

-

With that, Kiro and I sit in the “box” together, resuming our work. 

He lays on the ground, scribbling and drawing on the music sheet, while I hug the laptop to myself, working hard to squeeze out a proposal.

The typing sounds on the laptop remain intermittent as before, but no longer have the sense of repression and frustration from earlier.

With his presence, I actually manage to complete a draft of the proposal without realising it. 

It isn’t excellent, and there are many areas which require editing. Nevertheless, I’ve already tided over the most difficult period.

I move my neck and shoulders, then shift a little closer to Kiro.

Same as before, Kiro is wholly absorbed in the music sheet in his hands.

Even though I can’t tell his current progress, based on his expression and posture, he should be the same as me, breaking free from the lowest point of production.

I observe him quietly for a long time. In the end, my playfulness triumphs, and I think of pulling a tiny prank on him.

Lifting Kiro’s right hand, I burrow into his arms. 

MC: Surprise~

Probably not expecting me to do this, Kiro is left dumbfounded. However, he subconsciously props himself up and hugs me. 

Kiro: Miss Chips?

MC: A little reward for the hardworking musician.

Saying this, I tilt my head upwards and give him a light peck on the chin.

My sudden attack and the closing of distance between us enables me to successfully capture the faint redness on Kiro’s face.

Kiro: ...mm, how’s your proposal doing?

MC: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

Just like this, I wrap my arms around his neck, tousling his soft, golden coloured hair.

Because of my action, the ponytail is now in disarray.

I simply hook my fingers underneath Kiro’s rubber band, untying it, feeling the softness of his hair in between my fingers.

MC: How’s your song doing?

Kiro: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

He mimics my words, inserting one earplug into my ear.

A somewhat rough demo occupies my hearing.

I close my eyes, immersed in the music he has given to me. My fingers twirl the wire of the earpiece, tracing the rhythm.

Kiro: Although it isn’t done yet, the overall main key won’t change.

It’s a somewhat slow tune.

It's quiet, and even brings with it a heavy and melancholic melody. It’s reminiscent of a self-reflection, and also like a careful recount.

Kiro: Even though this tune is a little sombre, I still wrote it. 

Kiro: Because I know you’d definitely say that you like such songs too.

MC: Of course.

I say this with certainty. He smiles and lowers his head, the tips of our noses gently touching.

MC: Kiro, I came across a saying once.

MC: The process of writing a song is actually a writer’s conversation with himself.

MC: Although I don’t know what you said to yourself, if this melody is your answer, I like it very much.

Our drifting breaths channel a temperature slightly higher than the sunlight.

MC: Including these slightly heavy portions - I like them very much.

Saying this, I crinkle my eyes, humming along with the melody from the earpiece.

Kiro releases a sigh, hugging me tightly.

Kiro: [sighs] Why does this song become so sweet when you hum it? 

Before I can respond, Kiro continues. 

Kiro: [laughs] It must be because MC is a jar of honey.

He nods with force, seeming to be very satisfied with this answer. Then, it’s as though something occurs to him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead. 

Kiro: See? It’s very sweet.

MC: What...

I laugh, pretending to push at his chest.

MC: Looks like I have to stay a little further away from you next time, so you won’t become overweight.

Kiro: Hehe, it’s already too late! My feelings come in large portions, so it’s too late to say that.

Kiro presses me against the woollen blanket, embracing me with even more strength than before.

Kiro: Miss Chips has already been firmly held onto by me.

Kiro: I’ll leave a stamp.

While he says this, he nibbles the side of my neck half-jokingly, and half-declaratory.

He doesn’t use strength, but the electric-like sensation makes me forget how to breathe for a moment. 

The charmingly tepid air leaves my cheeks burning crimson.

Kiro’s hug is tight, yet very careful. It’s as though he’s embracing the one and only treasure in the entire world. 

MC: It’s not like I can really run away...

Not minding my soft mumbling, another kiss descends on the shell of my ear, as though seeking a confirmation.

His breaths lift up strands of stray hair near my ear. They brush against my earlobe, as scorching as his lips.

Kiro: MC, I’m actually timid and a little childish.

Kiro buries his head in my shoulder, speaking softly.

Kiro: When it comes to things I don’t like, I’ll always think of hiding them and locking them up. I won’t see them, and I won’t let other people see them.

Kiro: But if it’s you...

I secretly take a few deep breaths, cradling his face a little stiffly yet carefully, tilting my head upwards. 

MC: Thank you for trusting me.

Kiro: ...

Kiro’s eyes widen slightly, and his lips part and close. It’s as though he wants to say something, but returns to a blank.

At the end of a short silence, Kiro speaks solemnly. 

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song. 

He lowers his voice slightly. Even though this sentence is as light as a feather, I know that he’s as serious as making a vow. 

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song, and sing various versions of myself to you in the future.

Kiro: Even the parts which are heavier, and the parts I’m unwilling to face myself.

MC: Mm. I’ll definitely listen earnestly.

Following the trail of his spine, I stroke his back lightly, giving him my promise.

Kiro: I know. 

Kiro: It’s precisely because no matter what melody it is, you’ll definitely sing it into a song akin to honey.

Kiro: Which is why I have such courage. 

I no longer speak, only giving him a serious nod.

Both his breathing and heart beats can be heard, regular and steady.

Kiro: Since we’ve reached an agreement, should I leave another stamp?

Kiro’s voice is once again light-hearted, even carrying with it a twinge of slyness. 

MC: Wait! The most important thing now should be noting down the hard-earned inspiration before it goes away!

I grip several music sheets at the side, pressing them against his chest, attempting to flee from his arms.

MC: Get to work quickly!

Kiro: Why are you like this?

Kiro pouts, showing me his signature, puppy-eyed expression of dejection.

MC: I won’t be duped by your gaze again. I’m going to become a merciless supervisor, so you can finish your work before the deadline!

Seeing that his plan has been foiled, Kiro simply gives up “pretending”. With a smile, he grips my struggling wrist, pressing it to the side. 

MC: Where’s your professionalism? Could it...

A prolonged kiss seals up the words I haven’t spoken.

Kiro: It’s exactly because of my professionalism that I can say with certainty...

Kiro smiles, his sapphire-like eyes radiating an azure colour even more eye-catching than the clear skies of winter.

Perhaps he hasn’t realised it himself, but he looks at me with the most burning and clear gaze, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Like a dragonfly flitting across water, he wets his lower lip.

Kiro: Before my inspiration vanishes, there’s still time to act coquettishly with my favourite Miss Chips.

-

Phone calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

[mikkomacko]

Dear Daisy 7

Before Chapter Blurb

~

The Christmas tree Niall brought over last week lights up the living room in the early morning shade, the dark snow clouds outside leaving the house darker than usual. Daisy shakes off the snow on her boots and leaves them at the door, cold fingers clutching the letter she just retrieved from the mailbox. Harry’s neat writing has scribbled her name on the envelope, and the heart he placed next to it makes her tummy flutter. She hooks her nail under the seal, tearing it open and unfolding his letter with hopeful eyes.

Dear Daisy,

How's the weather back home? I hope it hasn't been too brutal on you. Remember that one winter it snowed so much everyone got trapped inside their homes? I don't think that'll happen but if the snow picks up too much please call my mum over or go stay with her. I really don't want you home alone during a snow storm. Funny that I told you not to worry about me but here I am fretting over the idea of a blizzard, aye?

Anyway, nothing has been set in stone for my Christmas plans yet, however, a buddy of mine is returning home for the holidays and he's heard word that I might be at home as well. No matter I promise you'll have the best Christmas, I'll do everything in my power to make sure. I'm sure my mum has told you but you're welcome to her annual Christmas party whether I'm there or not. Gemma will be there and she'll take care of you. Speaking of taking care of you, I've heard from a little birdie that you're thinking of using your own hard earned money for gifts this year. While I find that incredibly sweet, I can't allow it. Daisy, you know you can always use our money for anything. I also need to send gifts and it would really be much more simple if you just used the card and then signed my name as well. And if you don't agree with that, too bad. I've contacted my uncle and he's told the local shops to not accept cash from you. Yes, even all the way in France I'm taking care of you. Promised I would, didn't I?

The money you've got from working is yours Daisy. I honestly find it wonderful and inspiring that you've gone out and found work and are able to take care of yourself. I reckon more ladies in our town should be like you. I also reckon you take your earnings and buy something for yourself, something you've always wanted. I know you love reading, and I know Robin has got a couple could bookstores in mind. I'm sure he'd be happy to point you in the direction of them if that's something you'd like. Don't have much time for reading here so maybe you could read a couple good novels for me and then tell me all about them? It's the least you could do really considering that I'm playing knight in shining armor for you.

Hopefully next time we talk I'll have more news about Christmas for you, but remember that you're always in my thoughts. I see your eyes sparkle in the lights and tinsel around town. I see snowflakes melting on the apples of your cheeks and sticking to your eyelashes. I feel your hands when I warm up next to the fire. I feel the same joy you carry in the spirit of Christmas that surrounds me. In some ways I think you and I are a lot like winter. The bitter bite in the air and the soothing heat of cocoa. The hibernation of creatures, the death of plants, and the pureness and rebirth of snow. I could go on forever about you and I Daisy, but I think I'll save the rest of my affection for in person.

Happy holidays love,

The Harry Styles x

~

Daisy had never been so disappointed in her life. Not even when her family threw her out of the house and into the arms of Harry to be cared for. Maybe this is so much worse than being let down by her parents because Harry actually did care for her. She doesn't know what changed between the time she moved in and now, but something inside both her and Harry went from disgust to attraction. She can feel it her bones when she thinks of him. How much she aches for him, how much her lips miss saying his name. It's even present in their letters to each other. They're thoughtful of each other, loving towards one another. They've spent more time apart than they have married and yet she thinks they're more dedicated to each other than any other couple in this town.

Unable to hide her sadness over Harry still being overseas despite Christmas being a few days away, Daisy decided to not spend tonight with Anne. She'll be there for Christmas Eve, thinking of how Harry should be there too, so tonight is just time for her. She'd found a copy Pride and Prejudice a few days ago in the office downstairs, deciding to read it again as it's one of her favorite stories. Harry's probably read it before but she'll still write her thoughts on the book to him.

He's all she can think about as she curls up in his bed, the thick quilt his grandmother had made him wrapped around her shoulders. Bedside lamp still on, Daisy falls asleep wondering if she should tell Harry that he very much reminds her of Mr. Darcy. Of course that would make her Elizabeth and she really can't think of a more romantic representation of their affection for each other.

~

The spare key under the loose brick in the front hasn't been moved, though it is buried and frozen by snow. His car has been moved into the garage to be protected from the weather and the vibrant green of his front yard is now a white wonderland, lit up by multicolored lights. Harry can't help but hate how much has changed without him. He wasn't there to put up lights, wasn't there to winterize the grass, wasn't there to salt the sidewalk. Fearing what else might have changed while he was gone, particularly Daisy, Harry's hand trembles as he unlocks the front door.

He stays as quiet as can be as he moves into the house, dropping his bag by the closed door and re-locking it. His train ticket was a late departure, but he won't complain. Better to get home late than not at all. Peeling off his wet boots and coat, Harry drops them into a pile on the floor. The Christmas tree Niall had cut down for him is still gleaming in the living room, lighting the path towards Daisy's bedroom. Maybe Harry should go upstairs and change, wash away his time in France before he goes searching for his girl, but he's exhausted and aching for her. It's not until he's tiptoed down the hall and nudged her door open does it dawn on him that Daisy could be at his mother's house. He knows she's been sleeping there a lot and there'd be no reason for her to come home tonight because he didn't tell her that he was coming home.

Heart sinking lower into his stomach as he checks for her in every available spot downstairs, Harry dejectedly yanks on the plug of Christmas lights, bathing the house back into darkness. He's heading back to the door to put his boots and coat back on when he catches the sliver of yellow light coming down the staircase. Pushing himself up the stairs, his heart leaps back into his chest when he reaches the landing and finds his own bedroom door open. From here he can see his bedside table with the lamp still on and a lump under his blankets. She's here. Daisy's home and she's in his bed. On the side he sleeps on and everything.

Harry's quick to cut across the hallway, stepping into his bedroom. Lightly, he closes the distance between him and the bed. He can barely see Daisy from how she's wrapped herself up in his blankets, one arm hanging out with his copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting loosely in her palm. He perches his bum on the little space between her and the edge, carefully removing the book from her palm and placing it on his bedside table. Peeling back the blankets she's snuggled under, Harry's heart leaps when he finally her beautiful face. Still sleeping soundly, lips mushed into his pillow with the smallest bit of drool staining the side of her mouth. He desperately wants to just strip off his uniform and climb into bed with her in nothing but his pants, wants to feel her on his skin after so long of sleeping alone on an army cot, but he can't. He'd hate if she woke up and was uncomfortable, if he made her uncomfortable, so he silently returns to his feet and slips into the closet.

Remaining in the doorway, just so he can still be able to see Daisy, Harry leaves his uniform in a mess of green fabric on the floor and quickly slips into a set of pajamas. The wood floor is cold on his toes but he ignores it in favor of getting back to her as quickly as possible. Harry pauses, eyeing the side of the bed that's completely open for him but he doesn't want to sleep there. He wants to curl up on his side, lay his head on the same pillow Daisy's is on, share such an intimate space with her again because he surely took it for granted that night he left. He should've held her tighter, should've stayed awake longer just to have more time with her. He should've memorized how it felt to feel her hands on him and how she's the heaviest sleeper he's ever met. He just should've done more for her.

He's not going to waste anymore time.

Pulling back the blankets, enough to expose Daisy to the cooler air of the bedroom, Harry lies himself next to her. She remains as still as a statue, but he notices that as soon as his feet brush hers it's like she fully relaxes. As if she were having a bad dream or uncomfortable and his presence next to her has brought that fragile peace needed for a good nights sleep. His heart swells at the thought of her subconsciously needing him like he needs her, and it takes all his strength to reach over and turn out the light instead of throwing himself on top of her and kissing her until they suffocate. He reckons that'd be a great way to go but he's not ready for that. He's still got so much of himself to give and share with her.

Perhaps he was right when he told her the heart grows fonder with distance, because never in a million years would he imagine his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he wraps himself around Daisy, body fitting to hers like it belongs there.

Home.

~

Daisy's first reaction upon waking up to loud snores and a heavy weight around her middle was to poke her fingers into the strangers closed eyes and definitely knee him in the groin, and then hopefully be quick enough to get to the neighbors for help. That is until her bleary eyes focus on the face in front of her. His strong jaw, the frown that's always on his face, even when he sleeps, and the mess of curls on the pillow. His face is a little slimmer in the cheeks and his hair shorter (and a little greasy at the roots) but he's still handsome. He's still Harry.

Her vision blurs again, this time with tears on her waterline, and she reaches up to cup his jaw, afraid this is just part of a dream. "Harry?" She whispers, heart pounding on her chest. A little short cuts off his snores, pink lips smacking together and he wiggles further into the mattress before falling still again. It's really him. He's really home. He's somehow made it back to her and climbed into their bed at God knows what hour without even waking her. She can't help but mentally curse him, wishing she had known sovsge could've met him at the train station with hot tea. He must have been freezing when he got home last night. The least she could've done was gone to pick him up.

"Harry? Will you please wake up?"

Luckily for Daisy, he's a bit of light sleeper, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone being enough to peel his eyes open. He blinks twice, eyebrows pinching together as his sleepy eyes flicker over her face.

"I'm sleeping." He grumbles, eyes closing again but Daisy doesn't care if he's annoyed or mad at her for waking him. She missed him too much to care so she pushes him onto his back, throwing her body over his and worming her hands under his neck. Harry grunts under her weight, lifting his head to adjust the way she's holding him before falling back into the pillows with a soft sigh.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you say anything you prick? You scared me to death!" His lips curl up at her words, obviously pleased at getting a rise out of her by not giving her all the information about him coming home.

"I scared ya?" He mumbles incredulously, "Came home to find your room empty, thought you'd somehow got frozen outside trying to sneak to my mum's and then I find ya in my bed? Scared me more, I reckon."

Daisy leans back, hoping to get another look at his beautiful eyes after so long of not seeing them but he's still pretending sleep when she looks down at his face. "How'd ya know I've been going to your mum's?"

She blows on him in attempt to annoy him enough to open his eyes, to just please look at her but he remains stubborn, squeezing them shut. "She wrote me." He answers simply, the thickness of his voice catching her off guard. Squinting curiously, she notices his Adam's apple bob nervously, and his teeth take in his bottom lip.

"Harry?" Daisy murmurs, releasing her right hand from it's spot under his neck to place it over his chest. She's shocked by how fast it's pounding, how his shoulders have tensed up. "Are you okay Harry?"

His nose scrunches, his eyes closing even tighter, features twisting as if he's in pain. He nods just once, a trembling breath leaving his flaring nostrils. Daisy doesn't know everything about Harry, not yet, but she knows that he's not okay. That he's holding something back and she's so worried that maybe he's hurt, that something happened in France and he's been sent home because he's injured, that a sudden knot lodges itself in her throat.

Her words are croaky and strained. "Can I see you Harry? Please?" She begs, trailing her hand up his collarbones to cup his jaw. "I haven't seen you in so long."

Silence. Not a word from him. Not even a shake or nod of his head. Harry remains twisted up, refusing to look at her, to speak to her.

"I miss you Harry. I miss you so much."

Her words push him over, his arms flying up to wrap around her and he sits up to hold her to his chest. She can't see him like this either but it doesn't matter because he's shaking and sniffling, the cries he was holding back finally breaking through. Daisy wraps her arms around his waist, her own eyes welling up with tears again at the sound of him whimpering.

"I miss you love. More than you'll ever know. Don't think I can go back now that I've got you again." Harry's rambling under his breath, soft sentiments of everything he missed, every little reminder of her that tormented him in France. She thinks he might be influenced by drowsiness but that doesn't stop her from pulling back enough to finally see his eyes. Even red rimmed and leaking, shining with longing and pain, they're the most breath taking color. They're eyes only meet for a moment before she's sealing her lips to his.

It's refreshing to feel his mouth again. Like warming up by the fire after making the wall home from the bakery. Like the sight of gooey chocolate chip cookies being broke in half, melted chocolate still connecting the two pieces. Like waking up to a fresh coat of snow in the morning, untouched by feet and vehicles and sleds. Like stockings resting over a fire. Like the silence that sits between them when he reads and she crochets.

Somewhere deep in her heart, it registers to Daisy that this is what home feels like.

~

Robin's a fairly short man, not that Daisy had noticed until Harry's standing next to him in the bakery, an old apron of the owners barely reaching his thighs. The knot in the back is the smallest possible knot she could tie because Harry's training has beefed him up quiet a bit and Robin's a very thin man. She doesn't know what it is, if it's the fact that it's so overwhelming to have him back again he just seems so much bigger than he used to, or if she somehow didn't notice how much he towers over everyone until now, but Daisy feels like a flower in the shadow of Big Ben next to him. It's both intimidating and soothing at the same time, but that's just Harry's brand she supposes.

"It's really not necessary for you to spend the day here." Robin repeats, digging through the orders for today. Daisy knows he's got a lot to bake today seeing as he closed for the holidays starting tomorrow and plenty of families need their baked goods for their celebrations. She promised to be here to help and even Harry's surprise drop in isn't going to ruin her word.

"Don't be silly Robin. We want to be here." Daisy assures, washing her hands so she can begin making the dough for the first order of dinner rolls. Harry looks a bit lost as Robin pins up the orders on the cork board and Daisy gets cooking. She's never seen Harry not completely own the whole room before and seeing him watching her curiously is oddly cute.

Robin puts Harry to work the counter and wrap up orders, much to his disliking seeing as he's not the socialist of butterflies, but he doesn't complain. Not even when Jacqueline Haverhill is utterly rude to him, glaring at him throughout the whole transaction. Daisy doesn't exactly know what Harry did to bother Jacqueline but she guesses it's probably something similar to his interaction with Mrs. Weathers.

As the day goes on, the orders get sent out, and a soft trickle of snow begins outside, Daisy notices that Harry's really good at wrapping the orders. He's precise about cutting the wrap and his bows of ribbons are perfect and the card with the order name is always written in a neat, slanted cursive. She can't help but imagine a Christmas Eve night in which her and Harry are both sat awake in the dead of the night, Harry wrapping gifts for a child that's asleep on the floor above them, scribbling their name on the gift tag and signing it from Santa Claus. He's got the perfect writing for that of the holiday icon. And then he'd hand the pretty package over for Daisy to place nicely under their tree.

Something in her stomach twists, realizing for the first time that she's imagined herself actually being a mother to his children. Of course she's thought about how good of a father he'd be, but she's never had such a vivid picture of the two of them parenting. It's such a shocking and sweet moment that she can't help but wipe the flour on her hands off on her apron, tentatively approaching Harry as he piles the two orders of cakes next to each other. He pauses when she walks over, mouth opening to question her but he doesn't get a chance to before she's pressing herself into his large chest, arms finding their way around his waist.

Harry freezes just for a moment, obviously caught off guard, but then he's wrapping his own arms around her shoulders and squeezing her a bit tighter. Daisy doesn't know what to say as reasoning for her suddenly wanting to hold him but Harry luckily doesn't question her. Maybe he's just as desperate for her as she is for him. Robin doesn't say anything to the two, simply smiling to himself as he watches Harry's eyes flutter close, resting his cheek on top of her head. Harry's not an affectionate person, most often he's rather cold, but he looks perfectly at home holding Daisy the way he is. Like he needs her to breathe.

"Hello hello!" Anne interrupts as she enters the bakery, Daisy opening her eyes just in time to see her brilliant smile drop into one of shock. Her gloved hands cup her mouth, eyes watering at the sight of Harry standing in the bakery when she'd been under the impression that he was still in France.

"Hello mum." Harry greets casually, lifting his head as Daisy pulls away. She catches the grin on his face, resembling the cat that got the canary as he moves around the counter. "How are ya?" He spreads his arms wide, blocky teeth sinking into plush lip. Anne visibly trembles, dropping her hands from her mouth to swing her handbag at him. Daisy giggles at Harry's flinch and the way his entire face scrunches into a childish pout.

"Oh you bugger!" Anne scolds wetly, smacking him one more time before finally accepting a hug from him. Daisy's chest expands with her growing heart at the image of Harry holding his wailing mother, stroking his fingers through his mother's dark hair while assuring her that he's fine. Like Daisy, she must have thought Harry is back due to injury or illness.

"Got home late last night mum, didn't want to wake you." He explains when she curses him for not stopping the minute he returned. "Didn't even wake Daisy. She came after me the same way too."

That same thickness that had taken over his voice this morning clouds his words, and the imagine of his tortured eyes makes Daisy nauseous. She distracts herself with wrapping up Anne's order of biscuits for the Christmas party tomorrow. Of course that doesn't stop her from listening in on the two, heart turning to mush at the sweet interaction between mother and son.

"I can't believe you're here Harry! And look how big and handsome you've gotten!"

"Was I not handsome before?" Harry's time is teasing but a quick glance at him and she can see the genuine curiosity in his slightly offended gaze.

"Of course you were ya goose! But you look awful proper with ya hair short and all." Anne continues to gush over him, fawning over the dusting of stubble on his jaw and how's he's too big for even the apron and how she better watch out or she'll have Goliath for a son. Daisy thinks it's a bit cheesy, Anne's compliments to him. Maybe a bit exaggerated too but then she catches the blush on Harry's cheeks and the boyish glint of pride in his green eyes, and she understands. Harry's a mumma's boy. He's eating up Anne's attention and fawning over him like a dog posing for treats.

Harry enjoys being doted on. Flattered. Babied even. There's something about that revelation that stirs in her stomach, warming her entire being.

Robin slides up next to Daisy, mixing bowl in the crook of his arm and whisking the batter in it. He nods towards Anne and Harry, a bashful smile on his face. "Don't charge her, alright?"

Daisy supposes it's because Robin's always known Harry's family, cares for them. And seeing the heart warming reunion between Anne and Harry, she's not surprised at all that he's dropped the charge. Robin's a nice man and he's got a soft spot for Harry, therefore having one for Harry's loved ones as well.

She looks back at him, biting back a smile when she sees him press a sweet kiss to the top of his mother's head, and she's so darn lucky to have a place in his life.

~

Soldiers wear their uniforms when they go out. At least that's what the ones in the pub do. Daisy thinks it's to pick up girls seeing as every available lady in town is eager to flatter a serving man, and all the ones in here do have a girl or two attached to them, stroking the collars of their jackets and praising the ribbons and metals pinned to them.

Harry removes his long army green coat, draping it over his arm before reaching to help Daisy our of her white one. He didn't wear his uniform and she's quite glad for it. Of course Harry would probably scare away any girl that came near him and she'd definitely enjoy seeing it but she doesn't want to see anyone try to get his attention anyway. She just got him back and she's not sharing at all.

"This way Daisy." Harry guides, a warm hand on the small of her back. Two of Harry's army friends, a man named Pip who he roomed with, and another named Oliver were also allowed home for a visit. Both men were from the same town and enjoyed Harry's company enough to offer a meet up halfway between their town and Daisy's and Harry's.

The table closest to the bar and furthest from the dance floor is where Harry's mates are sat, and just like him, they're not in uniform either. However, they do have women with them and Daisy guesses that that's the reason they're dressed down. They don't need to impress or brag because they've got birds.

"Aye Harry!" The tallest man cheers loudly through a slight slur, slamming his hand on the table next to his pint. The girl with him, a lanky and slim brunette halfheartedly shushes him but it falls on deaf ears as he scrambles from his seat to greet Harry.

They exchange hugs, Harry clapping him on the back quite hard in a way that makes Daisy wince, but the man must be used to Harry hitting him like that because he just grins and smacks Harry's chest in return. "Is this ya girl Harry?" He questions when his blue eyes catch Daisy hovering behind Harry. She smiles politely, blushing when Harry reaches back for her hand.

"S'my Daisy, alright." He murmurs with a proud nod, pulling her into his side. "Daisy, this is Oliver and that quiet bloke in the back is Pip." Harry gestures the man still sat at the table, sharing a warm drink with the blonde next to him, who judging by the ring on her finger, is Pip's wife.

"Hello," Daisy greets, accepting a hand shake from Oliver. Harry leads her closer to the table, letting her pick a seat before settling himself next to her. She ends up by the blonde, nodding when she introduces herself as May. Harry leans over to gruffly shake hands with Pip, his arm on the back of her chair and warm chest against her shoulder. Oliver's girl says her name is Molly, and Daisy can't help but think that May and Molly are the prettiest names for two friends like them. She supposes Summer and Daisy are pretty good too.

"Would you like a drink love?" Harry murmurs in her ear, interrupting her thoughts with his warm breath. She nods gently, receiving a tender kiss on her cheek before Harry's on his feet and heading towards the bar. Daisy watches him, enjoying the way his white trousers cling to his peachy bum. She's dragged out of her admiring by Pip.

"When Harry told us he's got a bird back home, I never expected him to have someone so quiet and sweet."

Daisy giggles nervously, pushing her hair behind her ear when Oliver nods his agreement. "Big grumpy lad like him, was expecting someone like my bloody Aunt Cecil." Pip and Oliver chortle drunkenly, Molly chuckling before turning to Daisy.

"Aunt Cecil is the most terrible woman I've ever met. Very braggy when she's not even got anything to brag about!" Molly's obvious distaste makes Oliver laugh louder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"Terrible," he agrees with a sigh, "but I think it's right fitting that Harry have you with him. A bit of balance eh?"

"He definitely looks less brutish with a little thing like you on his arm." Pip agrees, "Proper cute you are." May repeats his words, smiling sweetly at Daisy. Not knowing what exactly to say, she’s grateful when Harry returns with her drink and a beer for him. When he settles back into his chair, his arm returns to it’s spot around her shoulders. Daisy relaxes into his touch, remembering all the girls here that would definitely try to win his attention, and she beams with pride at the fact that he’s hers.

Oliver and Pip start up a conversation of what they missed most about home. Pip swears he’ll never find better cooking than the meals May makes, practically on the verge of tears as he dramatically declares his love for her beef stew. Oliver laughs, scrunching his nose when he says he missed the smell of home. Paris, he thinks, smells of cigarette smoke and too much perfume. Daisy’s not sure what she was expecting Harry to say, maybe that he missed his comfortable mattress or his novels, but she’s not expecting him to shrug and wholeheartedly say her name.

Her heart swells, ears burning as Molly and May coo. She catches Harry’s bashful gaze, grinning as she pecks his pink lips as tenderly as she can. For a moment they’re stuck in a lover’s bubble, gooey eyes and shy grins, but it’s quickly shattered by Pip’s groan and mouth.

“Excellent choice Styles,” he approves, “Nothing like coming home to shag and love on your wife, aye?” That’s followed by a holler from Oliver, and the clanking of beer bottles. She watches Harry’s eyes widen, and he turns to them with a laugh that doesn’t really sound like him. They take his sip of his beer as joining in on their celebration of sex. The heat in her face grows, spreading to her belly and Daisy suddenly wishes they’d stayed home tonight so she could have had Harry all to herself.

~

She's changed into her night gown, sitting with her legs folded on Harry's bed and peeking into the bathroom while he brushes the alcohol of the night off his tongue. Harry's only put on pajama pants, leaving his torso fair game for her eyes to roam over. It's odd not feeling like she's prying by ogling him but she can't get the words of his friends off her mind.

"Nothing like coming home to shag and love on your wife, aye?"

He is her husband. She's devoted herself to him for the rest of her life, willingly, and she doesn't even remember why she was so upset about being Harry's in the first place. He's thoughtful, caring, intelligent, and so very handsome. It feels silly that she ever looked at him and hated him, because right now all she wants is him.

Daisy's never shagged anyone. The only person she's ever kissed is Harry save for a few cheek kisses from boys throughout the years. She can't help but look at Harry and wonder if he has. He's obviously attractive, every girl in town has wanted him at some point in their lives, but she's never heard anything about Harry wanting them. Up until that night her parents dropped the marriage bomb on her, she kind of assumed Harry would always just be Harry.

There was one rumor though, she recalls, coming up when she was about sixteen. A girl named Lucille had been the center of it, everyone claiming she'd lost her virginity too young to a boy at the summer party always thrown at her house. No one cared about the boy because the real spice of the rumor was Lucille having sex outside of wedlock, but the boy mattered to Daisy because it was Harry. At least that's what Summer had heard from someone. She remembers how awful she had felt hearing that, having to leave school early because her stomach was doing an awful job at holding down her lunch. At the time she thought it was just a disgust at the thought of anyone, especially someone as sweet as Lucille, sleeping with someone as rude as Harry.

But now, watching him lean over the sink to rinse his mouth, shoulders rippling as he moves, Daisy thinks she was jealous. She wasn't disgusted that Lucille slept with Harry, no, she was disgusted that Harry had slept with Lucille. She was absolutely put off by the fact that Harry hadn't come to her. Because he was always going after her. Always teasing, always picking, always embarrassing. Why was that time the exception?

"Harry?" His name is out of her lips before she can even rationally think about what she's wanting to ask him, and when he exits the bathroom with a soft "wha'sa matter?" her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Instinctively, her hands reach to the bottom of the bed for the crochet blanket, fingers wiggling through the stitches in attempt to calm her suddenly pounding heart. Deciding that there's no possible way for her to ignore her curiosity nor how much she wants to feel his skin under her fingertips, she quickly spits out her question.

"Do you miss shagging?"

For a moment, Daisy thinks Harry might be mad. There's a flash in his eyes, one of annoyance and frustration, and she can feel an apology building on her tongue when Harry moves to sit on the edge of the bed by her.

"What's got this on your mind Daisy?"

She feels a bit like a child with the tone he uses, as if he thinks she's repeating something she'd heard on the playground and knew nothing about before inquiring about it. "Pip and Ollie mentioned it, and well, you sort of laughed but it was different. I was just wondering, I don't know. We don't really speak about personal things but I don't want you, I don't know, suffering because you think I'm clueless or-"

Harry interrupts her with a sharp call of her name, cutting off her defensive ramble. His hands reach up to untangle her fingers from the blanket, holding them in his own. Thumbs brushing over the back of her hands, his usually stoic expression breaks into a fond gaze. "First of all, I want you to know that I would never want you to do that based off the belief that you think m'suffering or whatever other bloody nonsense your mother has put in that head of yours."

Daisy's ears burn, embarrassed by the mention of her mother because Harry's spot on. She's always grown up hearing that as a wife, she does whatever her husband requests of her, no questions asked. But beneath that layer of embarrassment, is another source of heat, begging for her to just lean over and smear her mouth to his.

"Second," he continues "I don't need shagging Daisy. If we talked about it and both wanted to that'd be a different story but I promise you that I don't wake up every morning and curse the world because I've still not made love to you." His sentence is punctured with a shy giggle, one she's never heard come out of his mouth and it makes her heart swoop pleasantly. Harry's cute, she tells herself while mentally adding to the list of new things she's learned about her husband in just a few days of having him home.

"Ok Harry." She agrees, even more flustered at his compassion towards her and the subject of sex. "I suppose I just got caught off guard when Pip said how much he missed it while he was away and I didn't want you to feel that way too. You're already in a trying situation and that's the last thing I want."

Daisy moves closer to him when his dimples sink into the plushness of his cheeks, lips shining when he runs his tongue over them in attempt to hide the boyish smile on his face. "Want to hear a secret?" He finally whispers, dropping his gaze to where his hands are still tenderly holding hers. Daisy mutters a yes, eager to know something personal about Harry.

He clears his throat gently, shaking his head as if he's mentally scolding himself for whatever information he's holding inside his head. When he does finally speak, his voice is so quiet she wouldn't have heard it had it not been for how closely together they're sat.

"I can't miss something I never had."

It takes another moment for his words to register in her mind but when they do she could jump in elation. Of course she'd never judge Harry for having already had sex but she's so utterly relieved to know that she's not alone in her inexperience. She can't fight the grin that pulls at her lips, Harry rolling his eyes when he glances up through thick lashes to gauge her reaction.

He looks so shy, so tentative about what she might say to his secret and for the first time since she's known him, confidence surges through her. She squeezes his hand, pushing her shoulders back as she nonchalantly replies, "Neither can I, but I can yearn for it."

Harry's head snaps up at her words, eyes bright and big with surprise. Pink lips dropped open in disbelief, Daisy refuses to shy away from his prodding gaze because she knows what she said is truthful. Why can't she finally shag Harry? She's married to him and she trusts him, and if the admittance that she was jealous of Lucille is anything to go by, she's wanted Harry for a lot longer than she thought.

"Daisy," Harry utters, voice strained and rough in his throat. It sends shivers up her spine. "you're gonna have to give me more than that if you want something darling."

Before any unpleasant nerves can take over, she complies. "I've never slept with anyone before either but I would sh-I want to do that with you. If you want to."

His fingers are gentle but persistent as they trail up her exposed arms, Harry's eyes remaining on hers for any sign of reluctance or regret. He reaches the sleeves of her nightgown, fingertips dipping under the fabric and when she steadily maintains eye contact, he knows that's he's fully got the go-ahead. She can tell by the simper that lifts his lips and the sudden darkness in his eyes. Harry pushes himself onto his knees, face leaning in so close to hers his minty breath blows the baby hairs out of her face. Daisy allows herself to be guided back by his wide shoulders and bulging chest, eyes growing heavy under his heated gaze as her head meets the pillows.

"Are you certain Daisy?" Harry murmurs, checking once again. His thoughtfulness for her feelings and emotions is endearing and overwhelming, bringing a sudden sting to the back of her eyes. Daisy nods, reaching up to hold the side of his face, and tilting her chin up to brush their lips together.

"There's no other person I'd want to do this with Harry, and there's no other time that would be as perfect for a first time as right now." Harry's breathing grows heavier at her words, and while she usually struggles to read his gaze, tonight's different. She can see it in his eyes too, that burning need and passion that she can feel in her chest as well. "Besides, this is usually a wedding night activity so we're quite behind Mr. Styles."

The smirk that lifts her lips brings elation to his eyes, his dimples making an appearance with a smirk of his own. "If that's the case, reckon I should carry on, aye Mrs. Styles?"

She manages one feeble nod before his mouth is fully on hers, leaning all his weight onto his right elbow while his left hand drops down to her waist. He holds there for a moment, strong, nimble fingers a reassuring weight on her skin while she takes the time to run her own fingers over his exposed skin. The dips of his muscles and the heat of his body is enthralling, drawing her in before reducing her to mush.

The heat in Daisy's belly is searing, a fire burning so strongly she thinks she might melt into a puddle on the bed, soaking into the fabric of Harry's sheets to stay there for the rest of eternity. She's not sure what's warmer, the arousal in her core or the heat wafting off of Harry. Possibly Harry because she's never seen him like this. He's never looked so big, so manly, so strong while somehow also being so soft and sweet. This is the Harry she likes, the Harry she hopes is around for the rest of their lives. Calloused hands on her waist, eagerly pulling up the fabric of her clothes, prompting her to lift her bum so he can get the gown up around her waist.

Knickers visible to not only the chilly room, but Harry as well, goosebumps prickle her skin and her heart thumps erratically in her chest. Harry's large palm continues to trail up her body, exposing more of her skin inch by inch. His hips settle between her thighs, the soft skin of his belly brushing against hers. Daisy's never felt his skin on her like this and a wave of arousal pulses between her thighs. There's a bit of struggle with getting the nightgown over her head, Harry not wanting to release her bottom lip from between his teeth but eventually sacrificing the kiss to get her naked.

He sits back on his haunches, tossing her clothes over his shoulder as his eyes drink in every inch of her heated body. His fingers trail up her legs, brushing over her hips in a teasing manner as they follow an unmarked path to her naked chest.

“Prettiest bird I’ve ever seen, ya know that?” Harry murmurs against the corner of her lips, tentatively cupping the supple flesh and watching her face intently. Experimentally pinching his fingers into her skin, his eyes twinkle when the first shuttering moan breaks through Daisy’s lips. “Feel good?”

Nodding, she grips his arms for stability in the swirling mess of heat and desperation that’s taken over her body. She’s always been fairly quiet, but Harry’s touch is so comforting and exciting, she doesn’t hesitate to whine impatiently. “Thought you were getting a move on it Styles?” He quirks an eyebrow at her response, fingers pausing for a moment before he scolds her with a gentle tug on her nipple that sucks the air out of her lungs.

Harry slips off the bottom of the bed, shaking his head just once. “I’ll hurry Daisy, but I want ya calling me Harry tonight. Not Styles,” his eyes meet hers with a warning glare in them, daring her to argue. Something about his dominance has more wetness pooling between her spread legs, dampening the cotton fabric of her underwear. “Want to hear just my name from you.”

She nods again, so quickly her brain rattles around in her head but her eagerness is rewarding because Harry smirks and hooks his thumbs in his only two layers, tugging them down in on go. He kicks them off his ankle but Daisy barely catches the movement because her eyes are stuck on his stiff member. Red and thick, the head of him bobs up by his belly button and smears the clear liquid leaking out of him against the sprinkle of hair that leads between his thighs. Harry stands like a Greek sculpture, one hand on his lean hip and the other tangled in his unruly hair. His body glows in the soft light of the lamp, illuminating the layer of sweat that glistens on his muscles. Her eyes land on his thighs, gnawing on her bottom lip as she realizes how thick and pretty his legs are. She finds herself wishing it was the meat on the inside of his leg that were between her teeth instead of her own lip.

“Harry,” his name leaves her mouth in a sinful whimper, thighs subconsciously opening wider as if inviting him to dive between them. She sees his cock twitch at her call, his eyes fluttering for a brief second before he’s leaning over her again, hands on the sides of her knickers.

“May I?” He requests in a whisper, smiling brightly when she moves her hands to push his down, taking her underwear with them until she too is spread out bare on his sheets. Their mouth meet again, Harry’s cock a heavy weight on her lower tummy, twitching at every soft moan that he swallows off her tongue.

“Do you have protection?” She questions, breaking their kiss. Harry freezes, and a heavy weight settles in her chest as his eyes fly open and his forehead creases in thought. After a few seconds his eyes light up with hope, leaning off the side of the bed to dig through his drawer. The little packet containing the condom is pinched between his fingers as he comes back to her, eyes squinting as he checks the date on it.

“Thank god for Niall taking the piss out of me with this, huh?” Harry says, an eager and excited lilt in his voice. Daisy giggles, pushing his floppy hair off his forehead as he opens the rubber and rolls it down his prick.

“Who’s laughing now.” She responds, fingers digging into his shoulders when the covered head of him probes at her opening. Harry cups her face with his free hand, naked chests brushing against each other, and he smiles like a boy on Christmas morning. He doesn’t push into her though, instead presses a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You still comfortable with this Daisy?” His breath is hot on her face, but soothing. And when she nods and whispers, “absolutely” she knows it’s 100% the truth. That’s all Harry needs before he’s flexing his hips forward, nudging her slick folds apart with his thick tip. The initial sting makes her flinch, a grunt leaving Harry’s clenched teeth as he she clamps around the few inches he’s managed to sink in. His forehead drops to her shoulder, arm shaking but he doesn’t rush her into taking all of him. No, instead he waits for her muscles to relax, easing up on his cock and the way her body melts into his brings tears to Harry eyes.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” Harry encourages, voice raspy with the effort it’s taking him to keep from bursting already. He wants to, needs to make Daisy feel good. He wants her to know that he’ll worship her for the rest of his life. “Already feel like heaven around me.”

With sweet words and tender smears of his mouth against hers, Harry finally sinks balls deep into Daisy. The feeling brings similar moans from both of them, a peaceful aura of completion settling around them. Daisy’s never felt this before. Like her body could just float up into heaven if it weren’t for Harry’s broad frame draped over her. Like he’s a limb she never knew she was missing but now that it’s here, she can’t imagine ever being empty again. She loves it, loves him.

“You’re so big Harry.” Daisy admits, bashfully meeting his gaze. Harry pants a choked moan into her face, steadying himself before pulling his hips back and slipping forward into her warmth once again.Her compliments seem to drive him, spurring him on, and she recalls how he’d melted under affection at the bakery the other day. Grinning softly, she latches her legs around his hips and lovingly runs her hands over his spine.

“Feels so bloody good,” Harry mutters, most likely talking to himself. Daisy’s chest swells with pride, gasping when the head of him nudges deep in her belly, tightening the string in her abdomen.

Attaching her lips to his jaw, Daisy breathes her own adoration. “Making me feels so good Harry, want to feel you forever.” The whimper that escapes him makes her core flutter, squeezing him tighter. Like she predicted, the compliment creates something feral in him, the pace of his thrusts picking up the slightest bit.

“Yeah? You want me to keep my cock in you all the time? Show you how fucking well I’m going to take care of you for the rest of our lives?”

The revelation that Harry’s got a dirty mouth brings her closer to the edge, whimpering out more agreements to all of his filthy promises. He drives his cock into her deeper, quick but strong ruts of his hips that stretch her open so well. After a particularly vulgar promise from Harry, a declaration that he’ll spend the remainder of the war fucking his fist to the memory of making love to her, Daisy smashes her mouth back to his, teeth clashing and tongues colliding as the string in her belly snaps. His name leaves her in a quiet chant, encouraged by his thumb reaching between them to rub at her clit and the deep rasps of “Yes Daisy, cum for me, say my name, my name....”

Her velvet heat pulsing around him sends him spiraling, filling the condom with his hot cum as his body trembles and shakes over her. Daisy encourages him as well, shyly thrusting her hips up to meet his sloppy thrusts and nibbling on his jaw. Cock still twitching in her, Harry drops all his weight so she’s basically trapped under him. Not that she minds of course. Daisy loves the feeling of holding him, petting at his damp hair and rubbing her toes over his calf soothingly. It takes Harry a minute to return to earth, lifting his head and blinking sluggishly. He looks utterly breathtaking, pink cheeks and swollen lips, gleaming eyes and dimples as he takes her mouth back with his.

Daisy never imagined she’d end up here with Harry, but she’d never want to be anywhere else now, and she supposes this was the feeling Harry was talking about when he described home. It’s not a home, it’s a person, and she’s somehow ended up with the best one.

#harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #harry styles au #dear daisy #ww2 harry #soldier harry #arranged marriage au #enemies to lovers #secret marriage #smut

[falling-pages]

Bump in the night: Tamaharu

Since I killed off Haruhi in the last one shot I thought I should write some fluff for them! All of your comments made me laugh so hard, especially the one threatening to break my kneecaps. Sorry, not sorry.

Anyways, enjoy some family fluff.

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“Did you hear that?”

Haruhi grabbed Tamaki’s arm and shook him awake, perking up her head to listen. When she heard nothing for a couple of seconds, she sat up further, her elbows sliding against the satin sheet. Her husband slept soundly beside her, but she hadn’t been able to sleep deeply since giving birth two weeks ago. Was it the baby? Did the baby make some noise?

“Wake up!”

She shook Tamaki again, and then he grunted, shifting to wrap his arm around her. He pulled her closer, muttering something in French, but she wiggled away. Normally she would cuddle into him, but something set off alarm bells in her head.

Tamaki swatted around, feeling for her, and slightly opened his eyes when he couldn’t touch her. “My love, what’s wrong?” he asked, squinting at her.

Haruhi sat up completely. “I heard something.”

Instantly Tamaki sat up and faced the doorway, cocking his head to the side. “Like the baby, or a noise downstairs?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It sounded like downstairs. But it could have just been the baby. Or a dream.”

Tamaki rubbed the back of his neck, debating whether or not to get up. Haruhi was very sensible--he had the more active imagination of the two, so if anyone were to hear sounds that weren’t there, it was him. He debated mentioning the security detail on their property, but he knew her well enough to know that wouldn’t calm her nerves. 

He had to be a good husband. He had to investigate the things that go bump in the night.

“I’ll check it out,” he said cheerfully, patting her thigh. “I will make sure my queen is safe and secure. I shall be the knight defeating the dreaded dragon below!”

At the last part he raised his arm like he was holding a sword straight up in the air, awaiting a trophy or prize for his valiant deeds. Haruhi gave him a soft smile. She used to think his antics were immature, but as she began to slowly fall in love with him in college, she realized it was his way of coping and making others happy. And the best way to make him happy was to be happy, even to humor his silly ideas.

“Go slay the beast,” she whispered, rubbing her arms. The chill of the night sent shivers down her body exposed from the blanket. 

Tamaki grinned widely, and in that moment, despite the bedhead and dark circles under his eyes, he looked every bit as much of a brave knight that one would read about. “And I shall return with a blanket for the shivering lady,” he declared. “But, can I have a kiss for good luck before I investigate?”

Ahh, there it is. Haruhi rolled her eyes but leaned forward and kissed him anyway. What she meant to be a quick peck turned into something heavier as hunger took over. She practically fell into him, deepening their kiss as Tamaki caught her and held her close. She groaned as his fingers pulled down the straps of her short nightgown, eager and wandering, but as he opened his mouth to allow her tongue entrance, she stopped.

“Tamaki.”

“Mmm.”

“The noise.”

Tamaki still stared at her mouth. His fingers still ran along the length of her straps, considering allowing the dragon to vanquish the city while he took the queen as his own.

“That was some good luck charm,” he whispered, laying another kiss on her forehead. They couldn’t dive into that quite yet. Her small body was still recovering from the birth of their son. “Go back to sleep. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Haruhi laid back down as he got up, lithely stretching his long arms. That was the first real kiss they had had in two tiring weeks, and she had gotten used to expressing little affection whenever they could spare a moment for a hug or hand squeeze. Babies were demanding, and she had a law firm to run--but damn, if his mouth didn’t taste as sweet as always. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until now.

Tamaki felt confident in the security of their home, but he grabbed a bat on the way out of the master bedroom, just in case.

Their mansion was very nice, marble floors and all, but in the darkness of night it held a more sinister approach. The statues and busts he had fought to keep mocked him as he walked through the hallways, their shadows and shape tricking him into thinking an intruder lurked around every corner. Maybe Haruhi was right--maybe they were garish. Maybe their dark resemblance to gargoyles was too macabre for their bright white home.

He had spotted nothing until he reached the nursery. He quietly opened the door, wincing at the click at the hinge, but their baby seemed to not notice. Tamaki laid the bat on the floor before approaching the crib and taking a peek at the angel within.

Tamaki had never seen such a sight. Every day their son seemed to just glow, and even his cries were music to his father’s ears. Tamaki had granted himself as much paternity leave as he wanted. He needed to spend as much time as he could with his little family.

He dared not wake him, but he couldn’t just stand by the crib and not touch the little thing. Tamaki reached in and brushed a finger along the baby’s soft cheek, a grin lighting up his own face at the contact. He gently slid his fingertips through the downy, messy brown hair, letting it poof out. The baby looked so evenly like both him and Haruhi. It was astounding. 

One finger outlined the shape of his chin, and Tamaki couldn’t help but feel the same swell of pride float up in his heart ever since he held that swaddle for the first time. His son was perfect. And even if he weren’t, he wouldn’t love him any less.

He had the eyes and hair of Haruhi with the delicate facial structure that Tamaki bore from his French mother, resulting in a child so sweet-looking you just had to hold him, to prove that there was goodness in this fragile world.

But Tamaki knew better than to wake a sleeping baby. He’d have plenty of time for oohing and ahhing in the morning--or whenever the baby decided to eat next--and he could kiss up and down his cute little head then. For now, Tamaki’s job was to find the things that go bump in the night and slay the dragon.

He knelt and kissed the baby’s forehead, closing his eyes and taking in the moment. He could get drunk off that new-baby smell.

His son didn’t stir or even cry, but slept peacefully beneath his father’s loving gaze.

---- -- - - - - - - - - - - ------  - - - - --- - - -  -   ------  - - - - - - - - 

All that love filling his heart propelled him towards the hallway closet. In it he found a woollen blanket and folded it over his arm, practically floating back to his bedroom. Once he entered, he tread carefully so as not to alarm his wife, but she still jolted in her half-asleep state.

He laid the blanket over her and crawled beside her, pulling her close and kissing her cheek, earning him a happy half-sigh, half-giggle. Their son took after her--she was so small beneath his arm, curled up on her side with her arms tucked close to her chest. They even slept the same way.

She mumbled something, but he didn’t want to wake her up to find out. “Turns out there was no dragon, my queen,” he whispered. He wanted to continue the narrative, even if it were just for an audience of one. “Just some wind and a couple of tree branches knocking against a window.”

Haruhi shifted, rolling to bury her face in his chest. She moved to clutch the blanket between her fists.

“But the prince is sleeping soundly now,” Tamaki continued. He nestled his head against his beloved’s, breathing in her soft floral shampoo. “And so can we.”

#ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #haruhi fujioka #tamaharu #tamaki x haruhi #tamaharu children #family au

[bittercoldbrew]

Well, geeze, this got outta hand... I blame @silverwolf319​ for being so kind and encouraging and joining me in the little spoon!Ezra club even though he’s technically a big spoon in this one, but I think it still qualifies. Thank you, darling 💕

In theory this is a follow-up to my earlier Ezra/OC oneshot (which is, in theory, a follow-up to my finished story, To Build Something New), but I think they can be read independently, or in any order you please. Here we’ve got about 5k words of just the softest fluff I think I’ve ever written, Cee and Ezra and his unnamed partner with she/her pronouns, building a blanket fort together when the rain keeps them all up at night. This briefly gets a teensy bit saucier than the other one did, so I’m asking to keep this one 18+ only, please and thanks, friends. No other warnings, just an absurd amount of established relationship sweetness here. Enjoy!

Most nights, she loves the skylight above their bed, loves the view of the vast and glorious expanse of space beyond the meager atmosphere of this dwarf planet that has become so dear to her—loves, too, the occasional brush of willowy branches against the glass from the big tree outside, when the wind is up. After so very many years spent floating through the galaxy aboard slingbacks and freighters, she needs this glimpse of the heavens just as much as she needs the reminder of the solid ground beneath her feet. Even now, more than two years spent as a resident of Aphelia, she still has horrid dreams of hull breaches and micrometeoroids and hairline cracks, and often it helps to wake and watch for lazy clouds drifting by or those familiar leaves or the rare nightbird, proof that there is a sky here, hugging her close to the crust of the planet she’s made her own and promising to never let her be sucked out into the void.

Tonight, however, and the storm it has brought, offer far more proof than she would ever need. The wind howls; branches thrash and snap into the air; rain pelts harsh rhythms against the glass; and the sky is so full up with clouds that she can’t find a single soothing glimmer of any stars beyond.

The man in bed beside her, with his steady breaths and radiant warmth, the gentle weight of his arm across her belly, should be more than comfort enough. Ezra is not often an easy sleeper, but he can be a deep one under the right circumstances, and if she were a sensible woman she'd cuddle up against his chest and let the sweet thrumming of his tender heart lull her back to sleep.

She puts on a good show, she'll admit; but she is not often as sensible as people seem to believe.

Feeling guilty, yet restless, she creeps out from under his loose hold and to the edge of the bed. Light flashes overhead, followed closely by a deep groan of thunder, and she freezes halfway to her feet and glances over her shoulder to make sure it hasn’t woken him. But no, his eyes are still closed, those pretty dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, though a slight frown now creases his brow. He buries his face deeper into the pillow with a soft grumble, and she releases her held breath and stands and creeps around the bed and out into the hall—taking one of the spare blankets with her, of course.

She has some vague thoughts of decaffeinated tea and chocolate bars, maybe a dip into that carton of ripe berries in the refrigeration unit if Ezra hasn’t eaten them all by now, but her weary feet can’t seem to carry her that long way to the kitchen and she all but collapses onto the couch, instead. Ridiculous, she thinks, that she can feel this exhausted and this wired simultaneously. There’s been a stomach bug getting passed around at work, one she’s somehow managed to dodge thus far—both a blessing and a curse, because it’s meant that she’s been picking up extra shifts left and right. Tomorrow—technically today, she confirms after a quick glance at the time—is supposed to be her first day off in a tenday and a half, and she’s been so looking forward to finally having time to unwind and spend with her little family. Given the way her pulse keeps jumping with every crash of lightning and rattle of windows, she’s going to spend the day catching up on lost sleep, instead.

Cursing herself, her anxiety, and the weather—not necessarily in that order—she curls up against the arm of the couch and tucks the blanket under her chin, contents herself to a night spent merely hoping for sleep to come.

The storm is...beautiful, she has to admit, viewed through the front room’s wide windows. Dark as it is, there’s enough sheet lightning to paint the sky in grayish purples and greens, and the ribbons of rain seem to dance in the wind. They do have a DTV in here, but the signal isn’t great even on the clearest of days, and the serials streaming in the overnight public blocks are nothing but trash. The storm, for all its insolence, is likely to be far more entertaining.

She loses track of how long she sits there, knees pulled up to her chest, head resting against the back of the couch, until she hears the low rasp of her name and turns to find Ezra shuffling into the room. His hair is mussed, his chest bare, patched and tattered sleep pants riding tantalizingly low on lean hips; but his eyes are only half-open, hand and attention occupied as he hitches his prosthesis up over the liner that insulates his limb remnant, and seals it into place. There’s a soft hiss, and then a gentle whirr as the delicate machinery twitches synthetic finger and wrist and elbow joints, cycling through its startup flexibility test.

While it’s busy, Ezra rests his left arm on the back of the couch, and leans over to place a slow and sleepy kiss to her lips. “Hey, you,” he sighs.

“Hey, you,” she answers, mouth spreading up into a smile as she lifts a hand to smooth along his jaw. “I’m sorry; did I wake you?”

“Nah, the storm did,” he tells her, and though he’s not the sort of man to lie to her, she’s not entirely sure she believes him. “Mind if I sit with you a while?”

“I’d love that.” Kevva only knows why they’re whispering, with the storm crashing so loudly around them, but it feels right, here in the dark—especially when he comes around and settles in close beside her. She unwinds the blanket and drapes it over them both, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his warmth. He smells a bit like derma-cream, but she’s grown so accustomed to the tangy blend of menthol and citrus that it mostly just smells like home, and she all but melts into him.

“How long you been awake, starlight?” he asks, keeping his voice low and gentle, and she sighs and shakes her head.

“Never fell asleep in the first place. I got up, oh...” She lifts her gaze, checking the time that floats into view, courtesy of her optical implant. “An hour ago, maybe?”

He squeezes her tight, and she can hear the frown in his voice as he asks, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

She kisses his shoulder—there’s a little cream there, too, and it makes her lips tingle for a brief moment. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t wanna interrupt.”

He huffs, dipping his head to meet her eyes. “You know you’re more important, babygirl. Besides...” he trails off, lifting an unsubtle eyebrow, “you know how much I love sendin’ you to sleep.”

She snorts a laugh, shakes her head. “You’re a selfless man.”

“I’m just eager to help,” he says, grinning, and she laughs again.

“You’re eager for something, I’ll grant you that.” The grin broadens, his cheek dimpling, and she considers the offer. It’s tempting, that’s for sure—she’s been working so much, hasn’t had much time or energy to indulge in the pleasure he’s always so willing to give her. She’s missed him, missed the sweet words that fall from his lips as he comes undone for her, missed the way he fills her just right, as though his body was made for hers, and hers for his.

But the idea of just the walk from the couch to the bedroom seems a little insurmountable right now, even for such a delectable reward. She doesn’t think her body can get any more exhausted than it already is, with or without his best efforts, and sleep hasn’t blessed her yet; and he’d put his arm on which means he’d expected to be awake for a while, hadn’t really planned on taking her back to bed so soon. With a sigh, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck, and shakes her head softly. “Thank you...but I think I’d just like to listen to the rain a little longer.”

He nods, hugging her close and resting his cheek against her hair. “That sounds just fine to me.”

Ezra gives her so many reasons to love him, and this is no exception—how willing he is to set aside his own desires for hers, how he always seems to know when she wants to be wooed and persuaded into bed versus when she just wants to be close to him without interference, even of the pleasurable kind.

She’s never been as skilled with words as he is, has no idea how to really verbalize such a feeling, but she breathes against his neck, “I love you so much, Ez,” and hopes it might suffice, for now.

He rubs her back, presses a kiss to the top of her head, murmurs, “I love you too, baby,” into her hair, his soft voice full of so much tenderness that she thinks he understands everything she’s ever left unsaid.

A boom of thunder splits the night, so close it seems to happen before the blinding flash, and they both jump. Ezra pulls away, squeezes her shoulder. “I’m gonna...go check that out,” he tells her, and she nods as he heaves himself to his feet and crosses the room to peer through the window.

She twists around to try and watch as he moves away from the glass and heads into the kitchen, beyond her view. An instant later, she hears the back door slide open, a strong draft and sharp whistle of wind blowing into the house before it closes again. “Ezra?” she calls, but there’s no response, so she assumes he’s gone outside to investigate, and waits with bated breath for him to return.

A minute later, he does, with another rush of wind; then he comes striding back around the corner, rubbing at his wet hair with a dish towel and looking far more awake and alert than he had before. “Looks like there’s a tree down in the back,” he announces, shaking his head. “Not one of ours, though, and I didn’t see a lick of flame. Too wet out there, I reckon.”

She puffs out a breath, and nods her head. “That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hm,” he agrees, dragging the towel over his face and down his neck and across his broad, glistening chest. Her hands suddenly itch to grab the towel from him and finish the job herself (possibly with her tongue, perhaps, fuck the towel, why do they even have towels?), the sight of him enough to cause her mind and libido to make a stark course correction from where she’d just said she wanted this night to lead, and she opens her mouth to make those intentions clear.

Before she can, another voice speaks up. “Did you guys hear that?”

Twisting back the other way, she turns and spots Cee stepping into the room, one hand rubbing at her tired eyes, the other holding her beloved plush Puzu doll against her stomach. “Aww, not you, too,” she calls, propping her chin on the back of the couch and offering the girl a sympathetic smile.

“We didn’t wake you, did we, little bird?” Ezra asks, slinging the towel over his shoulder with a sheepish expression on his face.

“Pretty sure it was the sky exploding that did it,” the teenager says dryly, shaking her head. “Planets are weird.”

“They are indeed,” he agrees, glancing from his daughter to his partner with a broad grin. Of the three of them, she is the de facto expert on planets, having resided on one for the longest and most recent stretch of time—but that was almost twenty years ago, now, so she isn’t entirely convinced it should count.

Shaking her head, she hauls herself up off the couch and stretches her arms up above her head, feeling something pop along her spine. “Well,” she sighs, turning to face them with her hands on her hips. “Why don’t I make us some cocoa, then, before we lose power or something?”

They both seem thrilled by the prospect, and she makes her way into the kitchen with a smile, taking only a slight detour to trail her fingers along the cooled, damp skin of Ezra’s back as she passes him by. There will be opportunity enough, later, for her hands to have their fill of him. They might all end up sleeping the day away after this storm finally passes, so for now she’s going to make the most of this time to spend with them.

Her hot chocolate recipe, perfected over the course of many years of sleepless nights, has become something of a ritual now that she has these two beloved people to make it for; she falls into it without conscious thought, toasting cardamom pods and a cinnamon stick in the saucepan before adding milk, then chopping up a bar of the good chocolate to stir in once it’s warm enough. The storm still rages loudly, and she can only just make out the cadence and timbre of Cee’s and Ezra’s voices as they discuss something in the other room, and she lets the sounds wash over her as she grabs a foil-wrapped parcel of popcorn and sets it on the other burner to pop, marveling at how surreal yet mundane it feels, to have a family—something she’d never even dreamed of for herself, before she met these two.

She’s poking around in the pantry, checking to see if there are any other tasty treats to munch on, when the sound of heavy furniture creaking along the floor—and their resulting laughter—reaches her ears and makes her question all those warm and fuzzy feelings. She leans back, trying to catch sight of what’s going on over there, and calls, “What’re you two up to?”

“Nothin’!” Ezra answers, far too quickly for her comfort, and she frowns and takes a step that way.

But then Cee calls back, “It’s a surprise! No peeking!”

“Fine! Fine,” she mutters, shaking her head but turning back. She’s pretty sure, now, what they’re doing, but resolves not to interfere in the creative process unless they ask for it.

Besides, she has snacks to prepare.

She whips up a few peanut butter sandwiches, crusts on and sliced into triangles, in case anyone’s really hungry—they’ll make for a quick lunch tomorrow, if not—and grabs the last few handfuls of berries out of the fridge as well. Tossing one into her mouth, the sweet, sharp juice bursts along her tongue as she dumps the popcorn into a big bowl and pointedly ignores the sounds of bedroom doors opening and something heavy being dragged down the hall. She fills the kettle with water and heats that, too, just in case they do lose power tonight and someone decides they want tea or something before it comes back; with a couple towels draped on top, it should stay warm enough until morning.

The milk is ready, so she scoops out the spices and whisks in the chocolate and ladles up three mugs, then arranges them and all the food into one of the fruit crates Ez brings home from Kikur, and calls, “Can I come in yet?”

“Just—hang on a tick,” he grunts, and she can hear a bit of scuffling. Then, Cee’s voice, “Okay, it’s ready!”

Already smiling, she hefts up the crate and heads over to see what they’ve made of the front room.

The coffee table has disappeared entirely; the couch has been moved back against the wall, its seats and pillows removed to serve as cushions atop Cee’s mattress, relocated from her bedroom to the floor. The floor lamp was taken from its usual corner to stand at the foot of the mattress, and two big bedsheets have been clothespinned together and draped over its lampshade and tucked behind the back of the couch, forming a canopy to cover their heads while still giving them a view of the windows and the rain beyond.

Ezra has changed into a dry pair of sweatpants and one of the soft sweaters she tends to steal from his wardrobe when he’s away. He clicks on the lamp, bathing the space inside in a warm, cloth-dampened glow; then he takes a step back and surveys their work with his hands on his hips and a serious expression, as though it were something far more architecturally complex than a cozy blanket fort. “You know, I think this is our best one yet.”

She sets the crate down gently, careful not to spill anything, and crosses her arms with an appraising air. “You know, I think you might be right...” she says, nodding her head slowly. “We better get in it, just to be sure.”

Laughing, Cee tosses her stuffed animal inside and clambers in first. She follows after the girl, settling in among the soft cushions and warm blankets with a sigh, amazed at how well the lightweight sheets muffle the harsh noise of the raging storm.

Ezra doesn’t join them just yet, instead crouching down to investigate the contents of the crate. “What is all this, starlight?” he asks, lifting up and passing over the mugs of chocolate and bowl of popcorn. “You made us a feast.”

“Just some snacks, to tide us over. Hey, no, you give that to us,” she reprimands, seeing him prying open the carton of berries. “Don’t even think about it.”

The man is a berry-eating fiend, just inhales the things like some sort of confused anteater gone frugivore. If she takes her eyes off him for one second with that carton in his possession, they’ll all be gone before she and Cee ever get a chance.

Even with her staring him down, he pops three into his mouth at once; but then he does, begrudgingly, hand the rest over, so she allows this transgression and snatches them up and passes the carton into Cee’s hands for safekeeping.

“You’re so mean to me,” he grumbles, even as he rests the plate of sandwiches she made on top of the mattress and stuffs one wedge into his mouth, finally moving past the lamp and under the canopy to settle against the cushions beside her.

“You need to learn how to share,” she scolds, taking the bitten-off piece of sandwich from his mouth and biting into it herself.

“Ew, no,” Cee groans. “If you two are gonna be gross, you’ll be banished from the fort.”

"Sorry, boss," she tells her, genuinely chastened.

Ezra nods his head, settling his expression into something solemn. "She's harsh, but fair."

Then, in a flash, he snatches back the last corner of bread and peanut butter and shoves it in his mouth, shattering the moment and sending them all into fits of laughter, too giddy from the lateness of the hour and the lack of sleep and the spontaneity of finding themselves all huddled together like this to ever be able (or willing) to reign in their shared mirth.

They giggle and tease each other and snack, mouths going sticky with peanut butter and chocolate, fingertips smeared with butter and salt and berry juice, even as the wind howls and the rain beats down on the roof. Here, under their makeshift tent, the three of them are warm and content and safe, and she doesn’t think she’s ever been so happy to have found herself unable to fall asleep.

Cee is not often very physically affectionate, but she turns into a real cuddlebug when tired, and tonight is no exception. The older woman wraps her arms around the teenager’s shoulders and hugs her close, the Puzu plush tucked between them.

Beside her, Ezra tosses the last of the berries into his mouth and heaves a slow, satisfied sigh. “Did I ever tell you two about the time I met a ghost? Was a night just like this one.”

The girls look at each other, sharing matching dubious glances. “No, you haven’t,” Cee says, voice dry as bone. “And no, you definitely didn’t.”

“Swear it on my good arm!” he proclaims, laying his prosthetic hand over his heart, and it is utterly impossible to tell if the expression on his face is genuine or not. “Even know whose specter it was; I described his face to my crew after they found me, and one of the old timers said, ‘Why, that was Long Richard Johnson!’”

His captive audience squawk similar, wordless sounds of protest—she’s certain there’s never been such a man with such a name, let alone a spirit of the same.

But Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to gape at them. “What? You never heard the legend of Ol’ Long Dick?”

“Stop,” Cee groans, tossing a handful of popcorn at his face, but he shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face as he really starts to delve into the role of storyteller.

“No, no, I’m not— This is not just a me thing, this an honest-to-Kevva prospector’s legend. He was one of the greats, the first independent contractor to ever set foot on the Green.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, still disbelieving, but resting her cheek atop Cee’s head to listen. With or without any kernel of truth, this is bound to be an interesting tale, at least.

“I mean it! He was the first to reject allegiance to any of the corps; and they let ‘im, too, because no one else, before or since, could suss out those gems like he could. He was a master of the Green Moon; they say he was the first to locate the Queen’s Lair, but he refused to mark it on any map or tell anyone where it was, knew the corps were too greedy and bloodthirsty to ever be trusted with such knowledge. They say he hired a private ship to sneak him out there without their purview, determined to harvest it all his own self, but there was some engine trouble and he never did make it. They say he’s buried up at the top of the Green’s highest peak, with a headstone that reads, ‘Here lies Long Dick Johnson, who earned every inch of his name’.”

“You’re a menace,” she gasps, pelting him with more popcorn, because she’d almost started believing him until that last bit.

But he only laughs and shakes his head, plucking popcorn out of his own hair and tossing it in his mouth. “I’m only relaying what I myself have been told, any deviations from the truth are someone else’s doing.”

“And this ‘ghost’ you saw?” Cee asks, making exaggerated air quotes with a skeptical look on her face.

“Ah, now, that is my tale to tell.” He leans in and props his chin in his hand, voice lowering to a whisper as he begins, “It was a night just like this one...”

He weaves a tapestry with his words, painting a picture for them of himself as a (somewhat) fresher-faced kip, new to the moon above Bakhroma, having contracted out his able body and his rundown ship to a crew of grizzled prospectors, in exchange for training on how to harvest the dazzling gems and a reasonable cut of their earnings. All had gone accordingly, until they found themselves caught in one of the moon’s rare, but devastating, rainstorms, and had to stay cooped up inside the ship, unable to harvest and unable to relocate lest the ship get struck by lightning midair and leave them stranded there permanently. So instead he spent his days learning complicated board games with made-up rules using bits and pieces of supplies they had lying around, letting his ears be filled with raucous stories of days and prospectors gone by.

And then, late one night, he’d been shaken awake by a man he’d thought to be one of the crew, dragged from his bunk and shuffled into his suit and helmet and filter and pack. He’d only briefly tried to hesitate, to wake the others, but the man had grabbed him and growled, “There’s no time, boy—move, or you’ll miss it.” So, only half awake and unable to think straight, he’d obeyed without question and followed him out the airlock.

He had stumbled in the dark, in the mud, in the rain and wind, still relatively new to this and unaccustomed to the bulky suit, and by the time he realized that the only reason he could follow at all was because the man leading him was glowing—luminous and stark and visible even through the sheeting rain and dust and muck that clouded his helmet—they were too far from the ship for him to ever have any hope of making it back on his own. He’d had no choice but to plod along after the ghost, for hours, maybe, until finally the figure stopped and pointed at his feet and commanded, “Dig.”

And then, without a whole lotta options otherwise, he had obeyed.

Eventually, the storm passed, and the light dawned, and his crew must’ve noticed his empty bunk and followed the single track of stumbling footprints until they found him where he’d fallen asleep in the shallow gouge he’d carved in the dirt, still clutching his shovel.

They accused him of sleepwalking, of cabin fever, of dipping into the good hooch behind their backs—all without malice, really, but certainly refusing to believe any claim of spectral visions. At least, that was, until one of the men looked down, and realized that the thing at his feet wasn’t, in fact, a large clump of dirt, but an aurelac root nodule the size of a small child.

“To this day, that was my finest single harvest,” he admits, shaking his head slowly. “The crew gave me a heartier cut than promised, and still all had enough to retire off of. Not me, though; from that day on, I was hooked. Sunk my savings in a newer ship and sought out another crew and kept goin’ back, always hoping to see him again, to pull another fabled haul.”

She nods her head, unsure of what she could possibly have to say to that, but she can so vividly imagine how such an experience would inspire a man like him, would spur him on to the sort of life he’s led. So she says nothing, simply lays a hand against his cheek, letting the edge of her thumb rest in the dimple that creases his cheek as he blinks and tears his gaze away from the past to smile at her instead.

He turns his head, presses his lips to her palm with a sweet kiss, and nods toward the teenager resting against her shoulder. “How long’s she been out?”

“Hm?” she asks, surprised, and looks down to find that he’s right, that the girl’s eyes are firmly closed, her chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. “Oh,” she whispers, scared to wake her, “I didn’t even notice.”

His breathy laugh is quiet, a chuckle kept mostly inside his chest, and he nods his head and says, “Let’s not wake her. She can sleep out here, don’t you think?”

“I—” she tries, but the words are stifled by a deep yawn that causes tears to prick at the corners of her eyes; she brushes them away, offers him a sheepish smile. “I think I might join her.”

His grin is brilliant as he nods again, leans in for a quick kiss, then pulls back and starts gathering up the empty mugs and half-eaten popcorn and sandwiches. “How about we all stay, hm? I’ll put these away.”

“Here, I can help—” she starts, but he catches her reaching hand in his and shakes his head.

“I got it, baby. You stay here with her, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

She nods, rubbing at her eye again, the exhaustion of the past two weeks finally catching up with her. “You promise?”

Ezra kisses her again, warm, soft lips lingering in a way that steals her breath away, leaves her lightheaded and a little dazed when he pulls back and whispers, “I promise.”

She settles deeper into the cushions as he quietly gathers up the dishes and food and the few errant popcorn kernels they’d thrown at him, and slips out from the blanket fort. It’s immediately colder in there without his warmth, emptier without his familiar weight beside her, and she hugs Cee a little tighter as she listens to the fridge opening and closing, the faucet turning on and off, his footsteps drawing near then moving past and away down the hall to the bedroom. Above it all, the sound of the rain against the roof has settled into a steadier, gentler thrum, the booming thunder and frightful wind moving on to rattle someone else’s windows.

When Ezra returns, clicking off the lamp and crawling under the canopy to slide in beside her, he has removed his prosthetic arm—never fond of sleeping with it on—and brought the heavy quilt from atop their bed along with him. She helps him spread it out over all three of them, making sure Cee is tucked in snug while he settles in and wraps his arm around her waist.

He rests his chin on her available shoulder, his whispered words a warm brush of breath on her skin as he asks, “What’d you think of my story?”

“I think it was...effective at making us all sleepy.”

He huffs a laugh, rubs his nose against her cheek. “Alright, sure, but did you believe it?”

She grins in the dark, even though she knows he can’t see it. “I believe that you believe it,” she allows.

His lips, pressing against her skin, curl up into a smile, and the warmth of it works its way deep into her heart and radiates from there to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. His hand slips beneath her shirt, palm spreading along her belly—not teasing, not suggesting anything more than a blatant desire to touch as much of her as he can. “That’s more than enough for me,” he sighs, achingly content.

She nods her head in agreement; and in these last few instants of consciousness before sleep finally claims her, she thinks that this moment, snuggled close between the two best people in the known universe, safe and warm from any storm, is more than enough for her, too.

#god this is so self-indulgent i really have no excuse #maybe someday i will write about something other than these three. but no promises #little spoon!Ezra #(on a technicality) #ezra prospect x oc #ezra prospect x reader #to build something new #theres a line in here that made me laugh when i wrote it and makes me laugh every time i read it again #i wonder if you all can spot it lol #real yearning hours #silverwolf319 #my writing

[professordrarry]

Drarry, Healer Draco patching up his reckless magical creatures professor Harry after one of those tree critters(botruckle? Bowtruckle? Idek) bit his hand? And harry beind dramatic about it and draco thinking how he loves his dumb idiot boyfriend

so cheesy, and with a full-on ‘fade to black’ because you know, brain not handling smut rn. love youuuuu.

"Draco? DRACO!!! Draco, Draco, Draco…" 

Draco bolted from deep sleep to the plaintive cry of one Harry James Potter, who was certainly not as hurt as he was currently making himself out to be. Harry never came to find him for the serious stuff. Just last month, he'd been in a bad situation with a certain magical civet that one of the seventh years had managed to transfigure, and Draco hadn't heard about it until the next day when he was called to sign Harry out of the emergency ward. 

So no, Harry was most likely fine. 

At least, he was for now. Would he be after Draco had torn him to pieces for waking him up during a break in his 48-hour shift? Possibly no. Depended on how hurt he was already. 

"Harry! Stop. Shouting," he hissed, gently lighting his wand so Harry could see what bunk he was in. "If you wake Munroe too, I will not save you. You're only alive right now because I've decided to be lenient until I decide you aren't near death's door." 

Harry plopped down on Draco's bottom bed and swung his legs up. He held out his wand for a quick silencing spell, then raised his left hand into the light beam. 

"Maggie. She bit me," Harry said with a sheepish grin. 

Draco glared. "You came storming in here, in the middle of the night— while I'm on call — because of a bowtruckle bite?!" 

Harry shrugged and poked his finger in Draco's face. Dutifully, Draco yanked the hand by the wrist under his wand light and examined the tiny pinpricks he found there. He brought the bite to his lips and kissed it.

“There,” he hissed, shoving Harry’s hand back at his chest. “All the medical care required for a bowtruckle bite, you fucker.”

“Had to check. Was worried about...venom.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Oh you were, were you? I really must write a letter to the Headmistress. She should be questioning the qualifications of her so-called ‘magical creatures’ professor.”

Harry chuckled and tucked himself further onto the bed, resting his head against the wall. 

“In my defence,” he teased as his eyes closed, “it really hurt.” 

“Unsurprising. What the hell were you doing bothering Maggie in the middle of the night? Despite all evidence, you do actually know better.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry muttered sleepily.

“Harry—”

“Just. Don’t worry. I’m not bringing it up. I swear.”

“Good. I have nothing more to say about—”

“Even though,” Harry pressed on obstinately, “it is an excellent idea and makes way more sense than what is happening right now. Since we are wizards and distance isn’t exactly a problem. Not to mention that you are spending half your salary on rent every month.”

“Harry, I have already told you that—”

“I told you, I’m not talking about it,” Harry interrupted. He opened one eye and shoved his palm in Draco’s face. “You missed a spot.”

“What?” Draco said, flustered by the hint at the argument they’d been having for almost a week. 

“Kiss it better,” Harry said, his demanding tone undercut slightly by the husk in his voice. 

The dusty vestiges of sleep demanded Draco’s attention; he’d been out on the floor for the better part of twelve hours and he’d been soundly asleep in that way that was not overly peaceful but did at least allow for rest. And yet. 

Here sat Harry, dressed in what was clearly whatever clothes had been on the floor when he’d thrown himself out of bed and down to the greenhouse. A wrinkled Gryffindor cardigan over a dusty black tee, dark grey sweatpants that may actually be Draco’s. Here, hair a wreck, glasses smudged, holding out his palm with that ridiculous, playful look in his eye. 

Gently, he pulled the hand to his lips and pressed the lightest kiss he could manage well still making contact there. Harry inhaled sharply and leaned into Draco’s space, pulling his cardigan off. At that moment, in that instant, he knew. 

Draco loved this idiot, more than was reasonable. 

“You too tired?” Harry whispered, his body pressed up against Draco’s bare chest.

“No,” Draco muttered back, pulling his shirt over his head and guiding him flat on his back. Harry, with more forethought than Draco was capable of at this point, reached out and pulled the bunk curtain closed. “Confident in that silencing?”

“You’ll have to just be quiet,” Draco teased. 

Harry smirked and latched himself to Draco as though a challenge had been accepted. 

—- —- —- —--—- —- —- —- —- —--—- —- —- —-

They laid beside each other in utter silence for a long time that night. There was an edge to it, an anticipation of something more. Draco knew that it was there because of him, but stubbornness mixed with exhaustion and he refused to acknowledge it. He fell asleep instead, which was probably the perfect solution.

Until his wand alarms went off just a half-hour later, making Harry — not yet accustomed to sleeping beside the magical pager system — jolt upright and smack his head on the top of the narrow bunk.

“Stay?” Draco insisted, already ripping the curtain aside and throwing on pants and his robes. “Go back to sleep. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be, but don’t leave, okay?”

Harry nodded groggily, rubbing his head as he lay back down. Draco leaned in and hastily kissed him as he grabbed his wand.

Of course, it was nearly morning by the time he made it back from the emergency ward. The bunks were empty, save for his snoring professor curled into his usual ball in the centre of the bunk, pillow long ago tossed aside. He looked vaguely like a husky when asleep, and it was baffling how adorable that was. Draco hurriedly dragged his robes off and pulled some soap through his hair, only just managing to dry off and pull on some pants before hurling himself back into the darkness of the curtained bunk.

“Everything okay,” Harry murmured, turning so he was pressed to Draco’s back.

“No. Emergency ward. S’fine,” Draco replied. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“It can’t be Hogwarts. I need to be able to Apparate.”

“I know. I said that. Hogsmeade?”

Draco inhaled. “Okay. But you have to promise…”

“Draco, I’m not going to end up hating you.”

He closed his eyes tightly and settled more soundly in bed, as Harry’s warm lips hit his shower-cooled skin and made him shiver.

“You don’t know that. You did once.”

Harry sat up and looked at him. Or at least, he assumed he was being looked at; his eyelids remained stubbornly closed.

“Draco,” Harry insisted. “I promise not to hate you. If we try, and it doesn’t work out, we just go our separate ways. We can do that. I know we can.”

He opened one eye and found Harry’s glasses-free earnestness facing him full on like the force of a hurricane.

“Okay,” he whispered. Harry’s face broke into a giant grin. “But I’m going to insist you learn to take care of your own Bowtruckle bites.”

“Nah. Like your treatment better.”

#Drarry #Healer Draco #established relationship #Professor Harry #Drabble prompt

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (18/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~6900 words, teen

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James was shaking. It was like he hadn’t eaten in too long and his blood sugar dropped too low and his body started rebelling against him until he gave it nourishment.

Only this was worse. Much, much worse. He was dizzy and nauseated and crippled with grief.

How had the night gone so wrong? They’d been having fun at the Phillies game, hadn’t they? They’d been laughing and lighthearted, and were so exhausted that they’d been a few minutes away from collapsing into bed together.

Then he’d gone and snooped through Rose’s mail. He should have ignored the letter. He should have asked her what it was, and asked why Jimmy had contacted her.

Would she have told the truth?

He hated that he had to ask that question, and he hated even more that he didn’t have a definitive answer.

His body moved on autopilot down the many flights of stairs of Rose’s building, not entirely aware of his surroundings. It was a miracle he didn’t trip down the steps and break his neck, considering he couldn’t quite feel his feet. He couldn’t feel much of anything apart from the heavy, aching pressure in his chest and the acid roiling in his gut.

James slipped into his dark car, which was still warm from the drive to her flat. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be with Rose, holding Rose, snuggling Rose in bed as they drifted to sleep.

Instead, here he was. About to drive home. Alone.

A break. Rose wanted a break. Because he had been such an insensitive arsehole.

But so was she.

Every insecurity he’d shared with Rose, every heartbreaking moment of the aftermath of his parents’ death… had Rose not wanted to hear about any of them? He felt stupid—so stupid—for baring so much of his soul to her without realizing she wasn’t reciprocating. How had he ever thought the nuggets of information she’d dropped for him constituted reciprocity? She had put in the bare minimum of emotional effort, giving him just enough that their communication felt like a two-way street. Did she know what she was doing? Had this been her plan all along? Get him comfortable and familiar with her so he would fall utterly in love with her? So he would have sex with her? Was that all she had been after this whole time? Had she taken advantage of his inexperience and banked on him not realizing she wasn’t putting in as much effort as he was? 

His shoulders shook as he wept into his hands, those ugly, nasty thoughts eating away at his mind until he couldn’t think of anything else. He didn’t want to believe that about Rose. These last four months with her had been nothing short of bliss. He’d never connected with anyone as much as he had with Rose. He was desperate to believe that what they’d had was real. It had to be real. It hurt too much for it all to have been nothing.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in the dark before his tears stopped enough for him to turn his car on. The engine growled to life, and the time 12:03 flashed blue in his eyes. Had it only been twenty minutes since he had first pulled up to Rose’s flat? How had twenty minutes completely destroyed the last seven months of their friendship and relationship?

His vision blurred again with fresh tears, but he impatiently rubbed them away to put his car in gear and drive off down the deserted street.

It probably should have bothered him that he didn’t remember driving. Anything could have happened. He could have run every single stop light, could have hit anything or anyone. But he was suddenly home, pulling into his dark driveway sometime later. His house was equally dark. He hadn’t left any lights on because he hadn’t expected to come back here tonight.

The house was dead silent. Not even his cats could deign to greet him. He toed off his shoes by the front door then plopped his keys and wallet into the dish on the cabinet beside it.

“Pip?” he croaked, voice raspy from all the tears he’d shed. “Merry? Gollum?”

There was a tiny chirp from the living room—Pippin and Merry were curled together on the sofa. James frowned. They usually slept in his bed, even on the nights he didn’t come home. He stepped over to them and gave them each a few chin scritches, but they were too drowsy to do much other than purr lightly.

“Where’s Gollum, eh?” he asked them, glancing around the living room. The Siamese wasn’t in the cat tree, or anywhere in sight. After the night he’d had, it would be his luck if Gollum had crawled off somewhere and died.

Whatever. He would look for him in the morning. James wanted nothing more than to strip down to his pants, fall into bed, and not wake up for a few days.

However, those plans were instantly scrapped when he stepped into his bedroom and was greeted with the pungent, acrid odor of ammonia. A huge, reeking damp spot sat in the middle of his bed.

“God-fucking-dammit!” he shouted, kicking his bed frame. 

He cried out and hopped on one foot as his toes burned in agony. His anger surged. Anger at himself, for jumping to conclusions and making too many accusations; anger at Rose, for keeping all of her secrets; anger at Jimmy, for everything he’d done to Rose; anger at his cat, for weeing on his bed when all he wanted to do was sleep and not wake up for a very long time.

James sank onto the edge of his bed—far away from the urine stain—his tears starting up again in earnest. He wanted Rose, and he hated that he wanted her. She had broken his heart more thoroughly than anyone ever had before, yet he still loved her. God, did he love her. 

Was that wrong of him though? Was it unhealthy that he wanted her, wanted to make up with her, after everything they’d said that night? Could they even make up from something like this?

He hoped they could. He hoped they could find some sort of middle ground. What that middle ground looked like, he didn’t know; his brain was too foggy with exhaustion and grief to think about possible resolutions and compromises they could make.

Something vibrated against his thigh. Sniffling and wiping his sleeve across his running nose, James fished his mobile out of his pocket. A new message from Rose.

Did you make it home okay?

He wanted to reply, “What do you care?” but curbed the impulse. That wasn’t fair. If she’d had to drive home at midnight after the argument they’d just had, he would want to know she was safe.

“Yeah,” is all he sent.

Okay. Glad to hear it. Sleep well James.

“Fat fucking chance,” he muttered to his phone, and instead typed out, “Yeah. You too.”

He set his phone face-down on the mattress beside him and rubbed his fingers into his eyes. A throbbing headache was beginning behind his brow. He would love nothing more than to sleep soundly and dreamlessly, but knew that his brain wouldn’t shut down enough for him to get any restful sleep.

Besides, it’s not like his bed was in any sort of state to be slept in.

With a groan, James pushed himself to his feet and tucked his phone into his pocket. He ripped off all the layers of his bedding, cursing when he saw they were soaked down to the mattress cover. Had Gollum held his bladder all goddamn day so he could piss right through everything?

He carried the stinking pile of sheets and blankets to his laundry room and settled in for a long night of washing. He stuffed the duvet into his washer—glad this home used to belong to a single mother of three who had invested in a giant washing machine, and left it behind when she’d moved out—and dumped in two detergent pods before programming a long, hot wash cycle. He then took the rest of his blankets to his kitchen sink.

The sight of two days’ worth of dirty dishes made him want to throw them all against a wall—broken dishes didn’t need to be cleaned. However, the mess of broken dishes would be more taxing. Sucking in a deep breath, he blew it out noisily as he dropped his sheets onto the floor and loaded everything into the dishwasher.

When the sink was empty, he grabbed his blankets and gave them all an individual rinse to hopefully keep the cat urine stain from setting.

It took nearly two dryer cycles for his duvet to be completely dry, and then another two loads of laundry before the rest of his blankets and sheets were clean. To his relief, all traces of cat urine odor were gone.

It was the dead of night by the time he made his bed; if he fell asleep right now, he would get at least four hours in before he would have to get up for classes. Was it worth it to try to sleep? He was keyed up from his middle of the night laundry session and his brain was still too loud. Maybe he should give up on the notion of sleep and try to take a nap after classes. Though would it even be productive if he attended classes?

James flopped onto his back on the fresh duvet, breathing in the scent of clean laundry. He would have to revoke the cats’ bedroom privileges until they—Gollum—proved they could be trusted not to wee on everything.

He sat bolt upright. He hadn’t thought to check the guest bedroom. Grumbling to himself and crossing his fingers, he jogged down the hall, and cursed vehemently under his breath when he smelled cat urine.

What the hell? Should’ve left the stupid arsehole to drown.

Well. He was already awake. In for a penny, and all. Stripping that bed as well, he began the same laundry routine. While that duvet was in the wash, James indulged in a quick shower. The sweat and grime of the previous day coupled with crying his eyes out intermittently for the past few hours made him feel filthy. 

The shower didn’t relax him as much as he’d hoped, not when the evidence of Rose was all around him. He hadn’t realized how completely she had insinuated herself into his home, into his life. Her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash sat right beside his, her bottles of pink and yellow keeping company with his blue and red ones.

Firmly ignoring her products, James rushed through his shower, lathering his hair and body in record time. But when he went to his pajama drawer, he was yet again reminded of Rose when he saw a set of her pjs in the drawer too. He couldn’t help but touch them, feeling the soft fabric beneath his fingertips as his brain reminded him of all the times he’d pushed her top off before they made love.

His stomach ached with longing. Hurriedly shutting the drawer, James instead moved to grab a pair of boxer-briefs. Rose’s knickers sat in a small pile in that drawer too. Growling in frustration, he grabbed a pair of pants at random and slipped them on before bending to root through his t-shirt drawer. Unsurprisingly, he found several of Rose’s shirts mixed in with his.

How had he not realized how much of Rose existed in his house? How had he not realized that her light and beauty shone through his home, and that she had made it her home too?

Because I loved it. 

And he had. He had loved living with Rose, and had been counting down the days when she would officially move out of her flat and into his house.

His tears nearly started up again when he realized that he may never share a home with Rose if they couldn’t find a way to work through all that had been said. No more sleepy mornings spent giggling and kissing in bed. No more impromptu dance parties in the kitchen just because they felt like being silly. No more late-night chats that sometimes carried them into the wee hours of the mornings. No more exploring every beautiful inch of her body and losing himself in her love and pleasure.

He didn’t particularly care about the prospect of no more sex. Brilliant though it was, he found himself more devastated by the loss of Rose’s friendship than the loss of her body. He had fallen in love with her, and the thought of her not being in his life anymore was agonizing. They’d known each other for seven months, and she had somehow become a constant in his life, an unmovable force that he’d been confident would never be gone.

The unknown was killing him. The uncertainty of whether he and Rose would be able to make up. If they did manage to reconcile, to forgive and heal, would their relationship look the same as it did before?

A distant chime from down the hall told him the wash cycle was finished. Sniffling, James pulled on a soft, worn t-shirt and padded down the hall to continue his laundry. When the duvet was in the dryer and the sheets were in the washer, James started searching for Gollum. As irritated as he was with his cat, he was also concerned; apart from the first week James had brought Gollum home, the feline had never had litter box issues.

Drifting from room to room, James finally found Gollum in the basement—which also doubled as an office space—lying on the desk chair.

“What’s gotten into you, you little menace?” he asked, crouching beside the cat. Gollum didn’t react, making James’s heart lurch. “Gollum?”

He reached out and rested his hand on the cat’s side. Gollum let out a noise between a chirp and a growl.

“Thought you were dead for a minute. What on Earth is your problem, buddy? Are you not feeling well? Is the litter box not clean enough for you? Are you trying to make my shitty day even more shitty?” James sighed, and stroked the top of Gollum’s head. “I’ll call the vet when they open. In the meantime, try not to wee on anything else, yeah?”

Gollum huffed out a breath, then closed his eyes again, drifting off to sleep.

The rest of the night passed listlessly for James. When he wasn’t switching over laundry, he worked on cleaning his house from top to bottom. Anything to keep his mind busy and away from Rose, because otherwise all he could think about was the way he’d raised his voice and talked over her, the way he’d suggested she wasn’t as invested in their relationship as he was, the way she’d sobbed and hugged herself and flinched away from him. And all of that was something he definitely didn’t want to think about.

The sky was beginning to lighten in the distant horizon by the time he’d finished. His house was immaculate. There was not a scrap of unclean fabric anywhere, what with him moving on to washing his clothes and the various towels and blankets strewn around his home.

His eyes burned with exhaustion, and he thought he might be able to get some sleep. He preemptively filled his cats’ food dishes so that they wouldn’t barge into his room in an hour to demand breakfast, then he went into his bedroom and crawled beneath his sheets. Before settling in to try to sleep, he shot off a series of short emails to his various professors, letting them know he wouldn’t be in class that day, and he would arrange with some of his classmates to get their notes. That task finished, James silenced his phone and set it on the nightstand, then tugged his sheets up to his ears.

He hadn’t realized that his bed had begun to smell like Rose until he was surrounded by the scent of laundry detergent rather than her subtle floral aroma. With an intensity that stole his breath away, he was aware of how much he missed Rose. Missing her hurt almost as much as their fight did, because despite everything that had happened, he remained desperately in love with her. He knew that he would do just about anything to try to make things right with Rose, if she would let him. He hoped she would.

That train of thought kept him from getting much sleep. His mind kept replaying their argument over and over again, and it kept coming up with new rebuttals and explanations he wished he could have said instead of losing his temper.

It was ten o’clock by the time James gave up on the idea of getting any more rest. He felt worse now than he had when he’d collapsed into bed four hours ago. Bleary-eyed, James stumbled to the kitchen to begin a pot of coffee. While it brewed, he went to check on Gollum. His food dish beneath his cat tree was full, and the cat himself had barely moved from his position on the office chair.

“All right, bud. Vet time,” James murmured, stroking Gollum’s forehead and cheeks.

He went back upstairs for his phone, and placed a call to the veterinarian’s office. There were no available in-person appointments, but they told James he could drop the cat off with them and they would take some blood and urine samples from Gollum throughout the course of the day. 

James didn’t feel particularly good about dropping his sick cat off and leaving him alone, but the alternative was waiting a few days for an open appointment. He thanked the vet tech and said he would be by with his cat within the hour.

With a sigh, James pulled on some clothes, poured coffee into a travel thermos, and managed to get Gollum into his carrier with minimal fuss. Gollum loathed being in a car carrier, and often yowled and growled for the entire duration until he was set free again; the fact that he remained utterly silent and unmoving was testament to the fact he felt poorly.

The drive to the vet’s clinic was unremarkable, as was the transfer of his cat into their care. He confirmed his contact information, and thanked them for being able to take Gollum so quickly.

Since he was already out and about, James stopped by a nearby Walmart for his monthly supply run. He hadn’t thought to bring a list along on what he had assumed would be a quick stop at the vet’s, so he tried his best to remember everything he needed.

He was about to head to the front registers when a display of vibrant colors caught his eye. Paint swatches.

Hmm. Been meaning to repaint my bedroom.

Pulling his shopping cart to the side, James grabbed a booklet and began leafing through for some palette ideas. Currently, his walls were boring off-white, which hadn’t really bothered him before. He always assumed he would eventually get around to repainting, but after nearly two years of living there, everything was the same as when he’d moved in.

No time like the present.

He spent the next half hour poring over paint colors and mentally mapping the colors onto his bedroom walls. He frequently found himself wondering whether Rose would like a certain color, before he shut down that train of thought; it always came back, though. For the past several months, Rose was never more than half a thought away. Despite their current situation, that was a hard habit to break.

In the end, he decided on an eggshell-finish steel blue color that could have passed for gray. A nice, cool, neutral shade (and, despite his best efforts, he was sure Rose would like it too). He added a soft white for his ceiling and a sharp white glossy paint to his order to touch up the trim and crown molding. With his new paint cans in tow, he moved to the next aisle for paint rollers and brushes, protective cloth canvas, tape, a paint tray, and any other painting accoutrements he could find.

On his way home, he stopped by a fast-food drive-thru for a burger and an order of fries. His cholesterol was probably not pleased with him, considering he’d eaten a cheesesteak and fries for dinner the night before, but he ultimately decided to hell with his cholesterol. 

It was noontime when he finished his lunch, and he hopped right in with his painting project. It took him an hour to move all of his furniture to the middle of the room, and to unhang the various decorations on his walls. Not sure how long the painting would take, James shifted his entire dresser into his spare bedroom, where he figured he would sleep for the next night or two until the project was finished.

The soothing, repetitive movements of painting were cathartic, which is more than James could have hoped for. It took a fair amount of concentration, especially to make sure he didn’t drip paint where it didn’t belong. He enjoyed cutting in the corners and edges of his walls using one of the small brushes he’d bought, but he didn’t like using the broad paint roller to cover large areas. That was an easy and mindless task, which meant his brain could go back to Rose. And that was definitely not where he wanted his brain to go.

How much longer would his memory replay their fight for him? How long would it take before he stopped thinking about everything he could have and should have said differently? And how long was this break of theirs going to last?

Several times, he had been tempted to take photographs of his bedroom and send them to Rose. A tiny little olive branch, maybe. But no, that was stupid. That would look like he didn’t care about or didn’t want to address their fight.

He still took photos, though, wanting a before and after comparison for his own memories.

He was about to move on to the last wall of his bedroom when the vet called with an update on Gollum. When his phone had rung, his heart had jumped into his throat; he hadn’t been sure whether he was hoping or dreading to see Rose’s name. The crushing disappointment he felt gave him his answer. It took everything he had to not dismiss the call and instead phone Rose, desperate to speak with her and start mending whatever broke between them.

However, he had a duty to his cat, and so he accepted the vet’s call. Gollum, it turned out, had a rather severe urinary tract infection. The vet wanted to keep him overnight to start him on an aggressive antibacterial regimen, and to give him intravenous fluids because the cat was dangerously dehydrated.

The guilt nearly overwhelmed James. He hadn’t realized Gollum hadn’t been drinking or acting any differently; if the cat hadn’t wee’d on the beds, James wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. The vet tech, seeming to sense his distress, assured him that UTIs could frequently get overlooked, but that Gollum should make a full recovery.

“We anticipate you’ll be able to pick him up in a day or two.”

“Great, thanks,” James breathed. “Really. Thanks so much.”

The call reminded him it was time to feed his other cats. He had shut them away into the basement to keep them from wandering into his bedroom while he painted. As he walked down the hall, he could hear Pippin crying and scratching at the door.

“Sorry, sorry,” he called through the door. “One minute, boys. One minute, then I’ll bring down your dindin.”

He grabbed the two empty food dishes in the kitchen, filled them with kibble, grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, and opened the basement door. Pippin bolted upstairs and sprinted directly to where his bowl usually sat. He froze when he saw it wasn’t there, and James couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Right here, bud,” James said, shaking the bowl. “C’mon. You’re dining in the basement tonight, and tomorrow. Until I’ve finished painting. I absolutely do not trust you to not brush up against the wet walls, and I don’t fancy washing paint off of you.”

James continued talking to his cats as he carefully walked down the steps, wary of Pippin and Merry who both were winding around his ankles. Wouldn’t that just be the perfect ending to the past twenty-four hours? His relationship with Rose had crashed and burned, then he went and broke his neck falling down the stairs.

Once the cats were happily eating their dinner, James returned to his bedroom and worked on finishing what he could. He worked diligently until nightfall, pleased with his progress and with how well the color looked. However, he was growing to realize that the warm brown wood of his dresser, nightstand, and bookcases didn’t match with the cooler tones of the room.

Well, he’d been planning to upgrade his furniture anyway from the inexpensive mishmash of pieces he’d found at second-hand shops. Figuring he was done for the night, James set up a rotating fan to help with air circulation then went into his bathroom for a shower. Paint flecks spattered his face, hair, and arms; it took quite a bit of vigorous scrubbing before he was satisfied he’d washed it all off.

Once he was clean, dried, and dressed in pajamas, he exited his bedroom and closed the door behind himself so that he could release his cats from their basement prison. Not particularly hungry but figuring he ought to eat, he cut up an apple and scooped a dollop of peanut butter onto a plate, then took it and his laptop to his couch. Aching and exhausted, James simply sat on his sofa with his head tilted back and his eyes shut.

He nearly dozed off until Pippin clumsily jumped into his lap, nearly upending James’s snack. 

“Shoo,” James grumbled, moving his cat to the sofa cushion beside him.

Pippin huffed, then walked in a circle half a dozen times before plopping right next to James’s thigh. Absently stroking his cat, James munched on his pitiful dinner and opened up his laptop to IKEA’s website.

He spent the next hour browsing new bedroom furniture. With the light, cool-toned walls, he thought dark furniture would pop rather nicely. He fell utterly in love with a curved, corner-unit bookcase, and with a long chest of drawers that could fit enough clothes for two people. He favorited both of those pieces of furniture as he wondered what to do with his current furniture. Some of it could be repurposed to other rooms in his house, but others, like his bed frame—if he decided to upgrade that as well—would have to be sold or donated.

The ring of his doorbell interrupted his mental reconfiguration of his home. He leapt to his feet and jogged to his front door, cautiously peering into the peephole to see who was visiting him so late at night. A tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man had his face pressed close to the door, as though he could look through the opposite end of the peephole.

James threw open the door. “Jack? What the hell are you doing here?”

The other man scanned his eyes up and down James’s body, taking in the pajamas and his damp, messy hair. A salacious grin crossed Jack’s face.

“Oops, I didn’t interrupt anything important, did I?”

It took James a few seconds to realize what Jack meant. Then he wondered why Jack would think he and Rose had been in the middle of having sex. Eventually he remembered that nobody else was aware that he and Rose were in the middle of an argument. Which made him remember that he and Rose were in the middle of an argument. His mood soured, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“What do you want, Jack?”

Jack simply stared at him for a beat before saying, “It’s Thursday.”

James’s stomach sank. Thursday… pub quiz night… shit.

“We didn’t see you at Molly’s, and none of us had heard from you. I thought maybe you were busy with Rose, caught up in all sorts of delicious debauchery that I would love to hear about. But you don’t exactly seem to be in a state of post-coital bliss, so…”

“What do you want, Jack?” James repeated, gritting his teeth. His sleepless night had finally caught up with him, and he was suddenly exhausted. His body felt leaden and his head began to ache. The last thing he wanted to do was stand in his doorway and have this conversation with his friend/ex-boyfriend.

Jack scrutinized him so intently that James had to fight the urge to slam the door in Jack’s face.

“What’s up with you?” 

“None of your bloody business,” James snapped. “Look, it’s late. Sorry I missed trivia night. I’ll be there next week. But if you wouldn’t mind…”

In a move James was not anticipating, Jack stepped forward and into James, startling him into backing up a step. Before he knew it, they were inside his house, and Jack had shut the door behind him.

“What the hell Jack?” James exploded. “I’m not in the bloody mood for this. Get out.”

“Spill. What’s happened?” Jack asked. Before James could shout at him again, he turned his head down the hall, sniffing. “Are you getting your house repainted?”

“Jack!” James followed uselessly as Jack strode down the hall to his closed bedroom door.

The other man threw open the door and flicked on the lights, revealing the messy, freshly-painted bedroom.

“Yes, I’m repainting my bedroom. Congratulations on your deductive reasoning skills. Will you please leave now?”

“Is there a reason you’ve started repainting your room on a random Thursday? That sounds like more of a weekend project.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was out shopping and saw paint swatches and had the urge to repaint my bedroom. So here we are.”

“Why were you out shopping and looking at paint swatches in the middle of a school day? Play hooky, did you? You know, whenever I blow off classes for the day, it’s usually because I’m having sex. Was Rose too busy? Or have you worn her out already?”

James’s cheeks burned, even as his chest crumpled in on itself. He had done his best to not think about Rose all afternoon, yet here was Jack, bringing her up every other sentence.

“Well, at least I can finally say I got you in the bedroom,” Jack said lightly, digging his elbow into James’s ribs.

James managed a weak, half-hearted snort. “Not quite how you expected it though, is it?”

“Admittedly, we were both a lot more naked,” Jack lamented. “I’ll let you save the nakedness for Rose. Speaking of, what does she think of your sudden home makeover?”

James’s stomach hollowed out, and he surprised himself by confessing, “Dunno. Haven’t told her.”

Jack went silent for the first time all night. James could feel his friend’s eyes on him, but he steadfastly inspected his walls, looking for any imperfections he would have to pay close attention to when he applied the second coat.

“James, what happened?”

Jack’s voice was so soft and so knowing that the backs of James’s eyes prickled. Damn. He thought he was done crying. James sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I think… I think Rose and I might be breaking up soon,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Jack simply blinked at him, his face expressionless. “Right. We’re gonna get some alcohol, then you are going to explain everything to me. Why do you think you and Rose are breaking up? You two are the epitome of soulmates, if such a thing exists.”

James snorted, remembering every hurtful thing he and Rose had said last night. “Not anymore, we’re not.”

Jack clapped him lightly on the back, before he encircled his arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Let’s go sit down.”

Keeping his arm where it was, Jack guided James to the kitchen and plopped him into the chair that Rose usually sat in. James didn’t bother moving, and instead watched his friend go to the fridge and pull out a partially-drunk bottle of wine. He and Rose had opened that bottle last weekend. They’d snuggled on the sofa together and made a drinking game out of watching a cooking show together. Half way through the bottle, they’d gotten pleasantly tipsy and had stopped paying attention to the television in favor of making out.

Jack found the cabinet that contained the wine glasses and pulled down two of them. He sat at the table opposite of James, filled the glasses, and pushed one towards him. James gulped down half of it in one go.

“Okay. Tell me everything,” Jack said, topping off James’s wine glass.

The words poured out of him, from every heartbreaking thing Rose had told him, to everything he had said in return. Jack’s face remained impassive as James spoke, never once interrupting, even though James wasn’t sure he managed to capture all of the details as clearly as he would have preferred.

“I’ve ruined everything,” James concluded, polishing off the liquid in his glass before refilling it.

“No, you haven’t,” Jack said gently. “You buggered it up a little bit. But so did Rose. You brought up some valid points, James. You deserve to be in a relationship with someone who is honest and forthcoming. It isn’t a good balance for one person to constantly be sharing while the other remains a closed book. However, it’s not healthy to expect the same level of reciprocity from Rose as what you bring to the table. Especially when you haven’t been upfront with Rose about your expectations. And where you did bugger things up was with shooting yourself down so hard. Especially as a way to excuse what you’ve said, or assumptions you’ve made.”

“But… I genuinely feel like I’m at a complete and utter loss all the time,” James defended, ringing his fingertip around his wine glass. “It’s like… it’s like people innately know how to do this, this romance thing, and I’m bumbling along like an idiot.”

“Were you insecure in your friendship with Rose? Before you began dating? Did you feel any of this last semester?”

James paused, considering. He’d always had some butterflies when he spent time with Rose last semester, but for the most part, he’d simply enjoyed being in her presence. That hadn’t changed at all, despite their new relationship status. She had remained his best friend, the person he always wanted to be around, and the person he wanted to share every piece of his life with.

“No,” he whispered, pressing his fingertips into his eyes.

“Soooo… what’s the difference between being Rose’s friend versus being her boyfriend? I mean, I assume by now that you’re having sex? Apart from that, it’s not like anything really changed. Is the sex bad or something? Do you not like it?”

James felt his cheeks heating as his stomach twisted. Being intimate with Rose was one of the most special things he’d ever shared with someone. Not only did it feel brilliant, better than he ever thought physical pleasure could be, but it was equally as emotionally satisfying. Being vulnerable with Rose hadn’t been terrifying or overwhelming, but rather comforting. There had been nobody he trusted more than Rose.

“No,” he croaked. “No, it’s been… it’s been incredible. Everything with her has been incredible.”

“Has Rose given any indication that she has been dissatisfied with you in any way? Not even with the sex, but just…” Jack waved his hands around in the air. “…in general?”

You’re everything I never thought I deserved to have.

Hot tears burned in his eyes then dripped down his cheeks. Every kiss she’d given him, every squeeze of her hand in his, every sleepy smile that spread across her face when she woke up and saw him… It all raced through his head, a testament to their love.

What have I done?

He pressed his palms into his eyes

“No,” he answered, his voice raw.

Jack sighed. “Oh, James.”

“I know!” He plonked his forehead down onto the table and curled his arms around his head, tugging on his hair until it hurt. “I fucked up, Jack.”

James heard the scraping of chair legs on the floor, then a warm body was pressed tightly into his own. Jack wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders, leaning into him in a sideways hug.

“Much like having sex,” Jack began, “having an argument takes more than one person. Most times, anyway. If either situation is being done by only one person, chances are they’re a wanker.”

James let out a weak laugh, even as his eyes and throat burned with more tears.

“Rose said some very hurtful things,” Jack said, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down James’s arm. “She needs to apologize and address those. But you accused her of some pretty terrible things, too. From what you’ve said, Rose’s relationship with this Jimmy guy was toxic, if not abusive. It’s insulting for you to suggest she would want to go back into a relationship like that.”

James’s stomach ached. He had known for months that Rose’s relationship with Jimmy had been unhealthy, and that her heart had been badly broken. That should have been enough for him. Did he really need to know every single detail of her heartbreak?

No, he decided. No, he didn’t. However, he would have liked to have known that Jimmy had reached out to her. At the very least, James wanted to know why Rose hadn’t wanted to tell him Jimmy had contacted her.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted.

“At least you know you want to fix it,” Jack said, giving James a squeeze. “That’s a good start. It means you’ve determined that what you have with Rose is worth fighting for. But you need to take a long, hard look at what you want from this relationship, and more importantly, what you want from Rose. And you need to be receptive to what she wants from you and your relationship. And you need to work on your own insecurities and stop projecting them onto Rose. That’s a shitty thing to do, James. You have the insecurities, so it’s your job to work through them. Stop making excuses for yourself, and stop projecting them onto Rose.”

“Not sugar coating this at all, are you?” James muttered, though he knew Jack’s advice was sound.

“Nope. I’ve let you mope for a half hour, but now you need to start making things right. And remember. You can only change yourself—you can’t change Rose. So decide what you’re willing to put up with, because she might never be as open as you want her to be. But also set some boundaries for yourself. A relationship is give and take, and lots of compromise. You can’t keep giving and giving and giving, or else you’re not going to have anything left.”

James cocked his head to the side and peeked up at Jack. “Do you have a degree in relationship counseling that I don’t know about?”

Jack laughed, and took his arm away from James’s shoulders to instead ruffle his hair. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“But how do I start a conversation with Rose to tell her I want to fix things?” James asked.

Jack pursed his lips and tapped his finger to his chin in mock thought. “Have you considered anything like “Hi Rose, I really want to make up and then make out”?”

James snorted. “I’ll think of something else. Oh, and I might have some furniture coming tomorrow or Saturday. Wanna help me move stuff?”

Jack winked. “You know, I think I’m busy. Why don’t you see if Rose is free?”

“Subtle,” James drawled. He then sighed. “Thanks for stopping by, Jack.”

“See, aren’t you glad I wasn’t put off by your less-than-warm welcome? If you want to practice your apology skills, I’ll take one.”

“Okay, I think it’s time we said goodbye,” James said, dragging his weary body up from the chair. He collected their empty wine glasses and set them in the sink.

“A piece of advice, don’t try that one with Rose. Maybe try a kiss or two. I’ll take one of those, if you’re offering.”

James rolled his eyes and lightly shoved his friend out of the kitchen. They’d only made it a few steps when the doorbell rang.

“Bit late for a social call, isn’t it?” Jack asked, frowning at James.

James gestured up and down the length of Jack’s body. “You can talk, showing up here at nine o’clock.”

“Touché. Late-night furniture delivery?”

“I haven’t ordered anything yet. Besides, no one would deliver this late.”

Shrugging, James stepped ahead of his friend to yank open the front door. His breath left him in a sharp, little whoosh when he beheld the person standing in the yellow glow of the porch light, cradling a small, plastic container to her stomach.

“Rose.”

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #angst #romance #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

[ultraglittercat]

Drabble 139

Babysitting Ruddiger

The day was sunny and clear, perfect for Rapunzel to go to Old Corona and check back in on Varian who looked a little rundown the other day. She asked Eugene to come with her, knowing how well 'Team Awesome' was getting along and approving of the friendship whole-heartedly. Yesterday there had been explosions coming from the lab, but as they arrived that morning she saw the lab was quiet.

“Varian's been so hard at work lately, I'm surprised he's not in the lab now.” said Rapunzel.

“Well, even the most diligent people need a break now and then.” Eugene shrugged.

“Then he'll love going on a picnic with us!” Rapunzel predicted. She knocked at Varian's house and was met by Quirin.

“Oh, hello Princess.” Quirin greeted her.

“Hi, Quirin. We were wondering if Varian could come on a picnic with us.” Rapunzel chirped.

Quirin shook his head. “I'm afraid not. He's caught a cold and is resting today.” replied Quirin.

“That's a shame.” said Eugene.

“I thought he seemed tired yesterday.” Rapunzel recalled. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“I'm sure he will, I've made honey tea for him and--” Quirin turned, having heard a son from Varian's bedroom. “Excuse me. I'll be right back.” Quirin said. He went to Varian's room and poked his head in the door. Varian was sitting up and petting Ruddiger, but his face was flushed and there were bags under his eyes indicating all was not well.

“Dad, who's at the door?” Varian rasped.

“It's Rapunzel and Eugene. They wanted you to join them on a picnic, but I told them you're staying in today.” answered Quirin. The stern look he gave Varian indicated there would be no arguing this point.

“Oh.” Varian frowned. He patted Ruddiger absently, and then he got an idea. “Maybe Ruddiger could play with them instead? He usually goes out about this time anyway.” Varian coughed.

“Yes, the little fella could use some exercise, and I'm sure your friends would be glad to have him as company. Alright, then. Ruddiger, come with me.” Quirin instructed.

Varian nodded. “Go on, boy.” he urged. Ruddiger rubbed up against Varian and got his chin scratched, then he turned and waddled after Quirin.

Quirin and Ruddiger went back to the front door, where Rapunzel and Eugene stood waiting. “Here. Varian says Ruddiger can go with you today. He's not too much trouble, he just eats a lot.” Quirin said.

“Well, we have plenty of food and Ruddiger is welcome to join our picnic.” Rapunzel laughed. “Tell Varian we'll see him when he feels better.”

“I will.” Quirin promised and he closed the door.

“Every day is something new around here! I was just getting used to lunch with a frog, now we have a raccoon to deal with too!” marveled Eugene. Pascal flicked his tongue near Eugene's ear, not pleased to be called a frog again. And he could have sworn Ruddiger was enjoying Pascal's reaction, the plump raccoon was grinning widely.

Rapunzel laid out sandwiches, cookies, and fruit. “Eat whatever you like, Ruddiger.” she offered. Ruddiger immediately grabbed an apple and ate it.

Rapunzel smiled and picked up a sandwich. She and Eugene ate together, talking idly about the weather, how her parents were trying to get their memories back, how Nigel was getting frantic filling out proclamations in their place. They didn't talk about Cass stealing the Moonstone or how her absence was weighing on the Captain but it was in the back of their minds, regardless. When they finished eating, Rapunzel put the dishes back in the basket and tidied up. Ruddiger 'helped' by tugging on the picnic blanket.

“Did you want to play, Ruddiger? I brought a chess set with me hoping Varian and Pascal could get a rematch.” Rapunzel told him. Pascal shook his head sadly, he'd been looking forward to it. Varian was his best opponent and they often stalemated.

Ruddiger merely whacked a knight aside when Rapunzel tried to set up the board, and then yawned, indicating he found it dull.

“I agree, buddy. Chess is boring. ...Don't tell the kid I said that, though!” Eugene whispered.

“Okay, so you're not a chess player. Maybe some other game will appeal to you.” Rapunzel walked over to a tree and picked an apple. This got Ruddiger's attention immediately. “Fetch, boy!” she called out, tossing the apple. Ruddiger ran to retrieve it, picked it up in his mouth, and then ate it.

“Maybe try something that's not edible next time.” Eugene judged.

“I should have brought a ball with me.” Rapunzel murmured. She turned to Ruddiger. “What do you and Varian like to do?” she asked.

Ruddiger sat up and mimed stirring something with his paws.

“Ooh, charades! I love that game. Okay, you're stirring... no mixing something... mixing something in the lab.” she guessed. Ruddiger nodded.

“Is it safe to have a raccoon as a lab partner?” Eugene wondered.

Rapunzel shrugged. “I guess it's alright. I have Pascal as my painting partner and confidante. He just loves making art with me! And Varian is sharing his passion with Ruddiger.” Rapunzel concluded.

Now Ruddiger looked up at them with sad eyes.

“More charades? Okay, you're sad.” Rapunzel said. Ruddiger pretended to mix things again, then cupped his hands over his eyes resembling binoculars or goggles. “You're sad because you can't mix things with Varian today.” she realized. Ruddiger chittered. She'd guessed right.

“I'm sure Varian misses that, too. That kid's a workaholic, I'm not surprised it's finally caught up with him.” said Eugene.

“Since we've finished our picnic, it might be a good idea to head home. Would you feel happier if you went back to Varian?” Rapunzel asked. Ruddiger chittered and ran in a circle, hinting he wanted them to circle back to Varian's house. “Okay, Ruddiger. We had fun being with you, but we know you love Varian best, and he loves you too.” Rapunzel told the raccoon. Ruddiger agreed and they began walking back.

“I have to say, he's a pretty nice animal. Not what I'd have chosen for a pet, but not bad either.” Eugene said.

“He's good to Varian, that's what matters most.” Rapunzel replied. They knocked at the door again, saying their goodbyes to Quirin. Ruddiger didn't stick around, he ran straight towards Varian's room in the middle of the farewell, causing the adults to laugh.

“I guess that's his way of saying we don't compare to Varian.” Eugene quipped.

“Varian's an exceptional kid, and Ruddiger knows it.” Quirin stated with pride.

“We're proud of him, too. He's really trying to do the right thing. Rapunzel told me he wants to translate that scroll as fast as possible so he can help us.” Eugene said.

“I'm sure he'll figure it out. Varian's good with languages. It's not in straight Latin, or he would have finished by now. He's made some progress, at any rate.” Quirin said.

“We'll come back in a few days, and Varian can show us what he's learned then. Thank you for taking care of him.” Rapunzel bowed. Quirin, who had never had a Princess bow before him, was a little taken aback at first, but he returned the gesture.

“Bye, Quirin. Tell Hairstripe we said hi!” Eugene waved. Quirin nodded and shut the door. He went to check up on Varian, and saw that Varian and Ruddiger were both curled up together, sleeping soundly.

The End

This was a request on ff.net! Thank you for reading the stories and suggesting ideas!

#tangled the series #tts #tts varian #tangled varian #varian #tts ruddiger #tangled ruddiger #ruddiger #tts quirin #tangled quirin #quirin #tts eugene #tangled eugene #eugene #eugene fitzherbert #tts rapunzel #tangled rapunzel #rapunzel #picnic #emotional support raccoon #fanfiction #fanfics #my fiction

[dewonderewereldvanfleur]

Dani x Jamie Secret Santa Fic

Hi there! This is my fic for @damiesecretsanta‘s Secret Santa thing! It’s for @webgeekist but ofcourse for everyone to enjoy! Merry Christmas to everybody who celebrates it, have a good day to everybody else ;)

AUTHOR’S NOTES

Apparently, there’s two Vermonts in the USA? One is a state and one is a city in Illinois? I have no clue which they went to, but people in the Dani x Jamie Tumblr group chat kindly told me that the state gets more snow, so I chose that one. Montpelier is apparently the capital. You learn something new every day!

Am I over Dani and Jamie? Not at all... 

I still have a whole scenario in my head with things following this, but the fic had to end here because that’s how I planned and wanted it and also I don’t want to write NSFW scenes because I am an innocent baby. Maybe I’ll write it in the future, though. 

The title is inspired by the song This must be the place by Sure Sure, a song that I found in Amelia Eve’s JAMIE playlist, which I listened to while writing this fic. Thought it fitted.

Also, this is the first fanfic I have ever written, and it might not be great, but I’m proud of it anyways. Enjoy!

This Must Be The Place  Dani x Jamie - by @dewonderewereldvanfleur

In the first few months after their depart from Bly, Dani and Jamie didn’t plan anything more than one day ahead. Dani wanted to, sure, but she did not dare to dream of a ‘future’, how nearby or faraway this future might be. That’s why, when Jamie asked her about taking the train to Vermont for Christmas, Dani’s heart sank. Not because she didn’t want to go to Vermont, but because she couldn’t bear to think about Christmas yet. And Jamie understood. Jamie always understood.

“One day at a time is what we’ve got.”

And so, they resumed their adventure, one day at a time. However, on Christmas Eve, Dani found herself in a tiny shop at the mall. Jamie was getting them both dinner, as they had agreed to not do anything fancy and just eat some fries. Now was the perfect opportunity for Dani to buy Jamie some more last-minute Christmas presents. As she shoved the presents in her bag, she saw Jamie walking towards her and grabbed something else from her bag. Jamie’s eyes fell on the sparkly red envelope.

“What’s this, Poppins?” She gave Dani her fries and opened the envelope. Inside were two train tickets to Vermont.

“Early Christmas present. It’s the night train, leaves at eleven.” Dani replied. Jamie raised her eyebrows

“Dani, you sure?”

Dani smiled. Nodded. Jamie looked into her eyes, then down at her lips, where they lingered for a bit. She grabbed Dani’s hand instead. They hurried back to their room at the inn, the door barely closed behind them as Jamie put her lips on Dani’s, gently placing her hands on Dani’s lower back. Dani moved even closer to Jamie and together they stumbled backwards, until Jamie’s back was pressed against the wall. Dani put one hand one Jamie’s hip, eagerly directing her towards the bed, the other hand caressing her curls. As they fell onto the mattress, Dani moved her hand to under Jamie’s shirt. Jamie smiled, and smoothly broke away from the kiss.

“We should pack our bags, shouldn’t we?” she said, when she saw Dani’s disappointed face. She took the bag from under the bed and started putting their clothes into it. Dani reluctantly followed her lead.

…

Later that night, Dani and Jamie got on the train and walked down the aisle looking for an empty compartment. Luckily, not many people were traveling on Christmas Eve, so there were plenty left to choose from. Jamie placed the bags in the holder above their heads and passed Dani a blanket they had bought earlier at the station. Suddenly, Jamie was overcome by a sense of endearment for the other woman, who had already sat down and put half of the blanket over her legs. She kissed Dani softly on her forehead and sat down beside her, entangling their hands as soon as she was settled.

“You all right, Poppins?”

“Yeah. You?” Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand.

“Never better.”

“I’m glad. We should try and get some sleep; we’ll be there by morning.”

“Won’t be a problem. I’m knackered.” Jamie rested her head on Dani’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Dani formed the blanket around them and buried her nose in Jamie’s hair. By the rocking of the train, both soon dozed off to sleep.

…

Early the next morning, Dani woke up from the conductor, who was checking tickets a few compartments earlier in the train. She looked at Jamie, who was still soundly asleep, and reached to their tickets as silently as she could. Dani stared at the conductor and put her finger on her lips to shush him before he even opened the door. As he checked their tickets, he whispered:

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s 5:45 am, we’ll be at the Montpelier station in ten minutes. Merry Christmas.” He quietly closed the door behind him. Dani softly nudged her sleeping girlfriend.

“Jamie…” she whispered, “Good morning, Jamie. It’s time to wake up…” She nudged her another time. Jamie mumbled something. “Don’t make me get you train coffee. It’ll be worse than mine.” That got Jamie up. She slowly yawned and rubbed her eyes. Dani smiled at her. “We’re almost there. Five minutes and we’re at the station.”

“We’re there?” Jamie looked outside. Everything looked very green. She furrowed her brow. “Hoped there’d be snow here. Another time, I guess.” Dani planted a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Come on, let’s get ready.” She untangled their hands under the blanket and got up to put the blanket back in her bag, while Jamie stretched herself and put on an extra jumper. The train stopped and they stepped onto the platform. They sat down on a bench for a bit and took in the view. It was definitely colder than it looked, with the morning sun brightly shining down on them, as if she was delighted they were there. Dani noticed Jamie rubbing her hands together and took the present she bought the day before from her bag.

“I got you another something.”

“Poppins, I thought we said no presents!”

“Yeah, well… I couldn’t help myself. Open it!”

“When we’re settled here somewhere, I’m going to get you some presents too!” Jamie pretended to be grumpy, but very excitedly opened her present. Inside were a pair of knitted gloves and a matching beanie. She grinned. “Exactly what I need right now.” She put them on and stood up. “Let’s get settled, shall we, Poppins?”

…

Already well after noon, Dani and Jamie had found a place where they could stay for at least two weeks. They had already spoken to the owner of the cottage, Dan, after having dug through the Yellow Pages for several hours. They had lunched in Montpelier and done some separate shopping, as they had agreed. Fortunately, there were busses driving in the direction of the cottage, just outside the city, every 30 minutes, and it was only a 10-minute walk after that.

They were greeted by a brown-skinned man. He shook their hand and spoke in a heavy Vermont accent.

“Welcome to Vermon’, ladies! The name’s Dan, I live a couple m-oy-les from here, so just drop by if you need anything! Everything should be in order. I’ll come and see you in a few days anyway, for the payment and everything. For neeow, got any questions?”

“I don’t think so.” Dani looked around her. “It’s beautiful out here. The cottage looks… splendid.”

“Perfectly!” Added Jamie, grinning.

“All right, then!” Sam continued. “Enjoy the moun-ains and Happy Holidays.” He got in his car and drove away. Jamie looked at Dani excitedly.

“This must be the place, then. It really is beautiful here!” She exclaimed, looking at the mountains and the trees surrounding the tiny house. She stepped on the porch and pushed open the front door, followed closely by Dani.

The cottage consisted of roughly four rooms. The first door on the right led to a small kitchen, that just fitted a furnace, a fridge, and a sink. In the windowsill were herbs in colourful pots and spices were on shelves on the wall. Across from the kitchen’s was a cosy living room, that had a dining table, as well as two armchairs in front of a fireplace. In one corner was a basket with several knitted blankets and in another was a cabinet filled with books and boardgames. Above the dining table was a chandelier that looked ancient, but somehow had electrical lights, and next to the door was a cute little Christmas tree decorated with fairy lights and purple ornaments. When Dani returned to the narrow corridor, Jamie quickly put her presents under the tree. The bathroom was nothing special; it had a toilet, a shower, and a mirror. Dani didn’t cover it, as she hadn’t seen Eddie in months. The bedroom, like the kitchen, was quite small, which meant that the king-size bed was as wide as the entire back wall. There was a big window in the wall, and on the sides were dark purple curtains to close at night.

Dani looked at Jamie and felt her heart swell. Jamie’s hair was tied together with a bandana, but one happy curl was dangling in front of her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, that had caught Dani’s attention even the first time they had met at Bly Manor. Jamie saw Dani staring at her and raised her eyebrows. Dani’s gaze moved down to her lips, where her eyes lingered, and she felt her cheeks turn pink. Jamie must’ve noticed too, because she leaned in, and Dani could feel her warm breath on her own lips. Dani pulled Jamie closer until their lips met, and a certain warmth filled her chest. Jamie tasted like tea and cinnamon, and the scent of her flowery deodorant filled Dani’s nostrils, until all her senses were captured by Jamie, Jamie, JAMIE. Jamie nibbled Dani’s lip and Dani let out a little gasp, which made Jamie smile. Dani pulled away to take off her jacket, and Jamie quickly resumed their kiss as soon as it hit the ground. Dani, who had her back turned to the bed, fell backwards on the matrass, and pulled Jamie with her, and-

“Ow! Shite!” Jamie cursed, as they bumped their heads together. Jamie rolled over on the bed, next to Dani. “Such a hard-headed woman, you.” She joked. Jamie looked over at her girlfriend, who hadn’t answered. “Dani, you all right?”

“Uhm, well,” Dani sighed, rubbing her forehead, “not, really. This shit freaking hurts.” Jamie pulled away Dani’s hands, and saw that it was already bruising.

“You just stay here; I’ll get you some ice.” Jamie quickly jumped off the bed and got some ice from the freezer, to put on Dani’s head. “Keep it there for a bit, Poppins, or you’ll be black and blue tomorrow. I’ll cook us some dinner.”

…

After dinner, when Dani had recovered a bit, it was time to do the dishes, but Jamie could hardly contain her excitement for Dani opening the presents. She saw the Christmas lights on the porch through the window, and as soon as washing up was done, she grabbed Dani’s hand and pulled her to the living room. Jamie grabbed the basket full of blankets and gave it to Dani. Then she grabbed the presents from under the tree.

“Let’s go sit outside, Poppins.”

“Yeah, okay. It looks cosy.” Dani smiled and they walked outside. They wrapped themselves in blankets and sat down on the steps. Jamie pulled out three presents, and she handed Dani the first one. Dani opened it to find a mug inside; painted on it were the Vermont mountains.

“It’s only for tea that I make, though,” Jamie added grinning as she handed Dani the second present. “you’re still shite at it.” Dani laughed and opened the second one. Inside were the ugliest Christmas socks she had ever seen. She tried to look glad, and Jamie burst out laughing.

“Ugly aren’t they, Poppins?” she said, still smiling widely. “I know, don’t worry. But they’re really soft and warm! I hope you’ll like this one, though.” She handed Dani the last present. It was a small, rectangular package wrapped in dark red paper. She carefully opened the present and turned the book to face the cover. It was an old copy of James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl. Jamie looked at Dani and added:

“Was my favourite book as a kid. One of the only books I had, actually. Read it so much it eventually fell apart. Literally.”

“Wow, Jamie…” Dani stammered, “I love it. It means a lot.”

“Well, I just came across it in this bookstore, and I wanted to share it with you.” Jamie chuckled. “It’s silly, but I just couldn’t put it back after finding it.”

“It’s great!” Dani assured her. “Oh! I just remembered, I found something too.” She ran inside and came back with her coat. She pulled out what looked like a couple of branches. “I found this plant on the street, and I thought you could save it…”

“You thought I could save it?” Jamie looked at Dani, and then back at the plant. “Poppins, I’m pretty sure that’s a mistletoe.”

“Are you now?” Dani grinned mischievously and locked eyes with Jamie. She held the mistletoe above her head, and she saw Jamie’s eyes dropping to her lips. Her eyelashes hid the blue of her eyes, so Dani followed the lashes, down to Jamie’s nose, Jamie’s lips, just in time to notice her softly biting her lower lip. Dani felt a shiver move through her body and took a deep, shaky breath. And then they were kissing, Jamie’s soft lips on Dani’s, her hands in Dani’s hair. Dani could hear Jamie breathing deeply and brushed her tongue along her upper lip. She felt Jamie tremble and put her hands on her hips. She grabbed the fabric of Jamie’s sweater and pulled her in even more, moving her hands under it, onto the warm skin of her lower back. Dani gasped and Jamie’s tongue slipped inside her mouth, hot and sweet and gentle and confident. She felt her heart pounding out of her chest, every beat in sync with Jamie’s movements. One of Jamie’s hands drifted from Dani’s hair to her back, drawing a line down along her neck and between her scapulae. Dani felt Jamie smile against her own lips and opened her eyes. Still embracing each other, they locked eyes and sat like that, foreheads still together, both panting heavily, unwilling to let go just yet. Dani felt something cold tingle in her neck and noticed Jamie shifting her eyes away. She followed Jamie’s gaze and saw fluffy, white flakes flurrying to the ground. Jamie smiled and grabbed her hand. As the snowflakes got bigger and the snowfall got heavier, they moved back until they were against the wall, drily under the canopy. They entangled their legs and rewrapped themselves in the blankets. Jamie leaned her head on Dani’s shoulder, and Dani wrapped one arm around her waist. Jamie sighed and quietly whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Poppins”

“Merry Christmas.”

#Dani x Jamie #Damie #The Haunting of Bly Manor #damiesecretsanta #fic #fanfiction #I wrote my first fanfic just now and I’m very proud of myself even though it’s probably shite

[wizardofrozz]

Put to the Test

Summary: A mission that should be quick and easy leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. 

Warnings: swearing, violence, past trauma, angst

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Chapter 7: In and Out

A few weeks had passed since Bucky, and I started to remember our time in Hydra. We still had bad days, thinking about how old our baby would be today, but it started to get easier; we were beginning to heal. We were getting better, but nightmares still plagued us both at times, especially when we were apart.

 ***

I woke with a start when I heard yelling from the cell next to me; I pushed off the frigid concrete floor to scoot closer to the front of the cell. I listened to the familiar Brooklyn accent coming from the cell next to me, yelling at a guard.

           “Leave him alone!” Bucky yelled, rattling the bars of his cell. “Take it out on me, you punk!” he screamed. My heart sank when I heard boots bounding towards his cell; he lost an arm and was still weak from how much he bled, and I knew a beating from the guards would only make him worse. I spent most of the day talking with Bucky, enjoying the sound of his Brooklyn accent, getting to know the man I had never even seen.

           “Step back,” the guard, in a heavy Russian accent, barked at him.

           “You’ll leave him be?” Bucky pushed. I heard the cell door rattle as the guard ripped it open. The sound of fists hitting flesh could bring on nightmares alone. His pained cries and screams from the cell next to me would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I curled into a ball on my cell floor, squeezing my eyes shut as I listened to Bucky screaming in pain.

           I shot up in bed, looking around, seeing Nat sleeping soundly next to me. What the hell? Memories of girl’s night came back to me, and I realized why she was here and not Bucky. Then I heard it, Bucky screaming, painfully loud; it wasn’t just in my dream. I jumped out of Nat’s bed and ran down the hall, throwing our door open to see him thrashing and screaming.

           “Bucky, Bucky!” I yelled over him, holding his shoulders. His eyes shot open, bloodshot and ice blue, but seconds later, his metal hand was around my throat, squeezing, yelling at me in Russian. Nat must have woken up when I got out of bed and followed me down here because now, she was trying to pry his fingers off my throat.

           “Damnit, Bucky, let go!” Nat screamed at him. He blinked a few times before looking into my eyes and instantly opening his fingers, horror in his eyes.

           “Roz, what the hell happened?” he said, standing next to our bed now, trying to decide if he should reach for me or not.

           “It’s okay, honey, you were having a nightmare,” I croaked. Nat handed me a glass of water from the bathroom, eyeing Bucky, making sure he had really snapped out of it.

           “Buck, I thought you weren’t having nightmares anymore,” Nat asked, rubbing my back.

           “I wish,” he rubbed the back of his neck, never taking his eyes off me.

           “Nat, I’m okay. It caught me off guard, is all. You probably don’t want to hear this but, I’m kind of used to it,” I blushed, my voice back to normal.

           “Oh ew, I hate you,” she pulled her hand back, giving me a dirty look. “I’m going back to bed. Please don’t try and kill her again, actually, please do after that comment,” she said to Bucky.

           “Asshole,” he chuckled as he closed his door. “You sure you’re okay?” Bucky doubled checked.

           “Yeah, like I said, I’m used to it,” I winked as I climbed into bed.

           “Naughty girl,” he growled. He jumped into bed, attacking me with kisses all over my face and neck before finally kissing my lips. “I really am sorry. Let me show you how sorry I am,” Bucky mumbled against my jaw before kissing me again. The kiss was slow and full of love; I slid my tongue into his mouth, caressing his. Bucky’s hand moved under the huge shirt I had on, his fingers tracing patterns along my skin. We relished in the feeling of each other, taking our time shedding our clothes, touching, licking, biting until neither of us could take it anymore. With Bucky buried deep inside me, I screamed for him over and over until the sun peaked through the windows.

***

           After a few more weeks had passed, Fury finally told Bucky and me we could go out on mission again. I was itching to get out of the compound again, but I’m glad we had time to deal with everything we learned. I woke up to find Bucky gone already, so I decided I needed some coffee before searching for him. I checked my phone, seeing a text from Bruce telling me he was running some blood work. He wanted to keep tabs on Bucky and me just to make sure we were healthy after our DNA present from Hydra. I sighed, pulling Bucky’s hoodie off his office chair and stole a pair of sweatpants before going into the hallway, where I heard yelling from the kitchen. I hurried towards the yelling where I found Sam, Steve, Bucky, and Nat all screaming at the same.

           “What the fuck are you morons doing?” I yelled. They all stopped screaming and turned to look at me standing in the doorway.

           “We have a mission. Barnes over here is throwing a fit about it,” Sam scoffs but moves further into the kitchen away from Bucky.

           “What’s the problem, honey?” I reached for Bucky, lacing my fingers with his vibranium hand.

           “It’s supposed to be me, you, Sam, Nat, Steve, and Clint going to an abandoned Hydra base. I have a bad feeling about us going anywhere near something involving them. Sam’s pissed because I don’t want us going,” Bucky ran his free hand through his freshly cut hair.

           “I know, honey, but we can’t pick and choose. We won’t be alone; it’ll be okay baby,” I rubbed his arm, attempting to soothe him. “When do we leave?” I leaned around Bucky, asking Steve.

           “Soon, so we need to get moving,” Steve sighed, looking back and forth between Sam and Bucky.

           “Let’s go get ready, honey,” I sighed, pulling Bucky along with me.

           “I don’t like this,” Bucky growled through his teeth.

           “I know, I don’t either. We don’t have a choice, so let’s get dressed and get it over with. It’ll be okay,” I tried to soothe him, but I could feel the tension in his muscles. Bucky and I quickly changed and met Nat, Steve, Clint, and Sam in the hanger half an hour later; Sam still giving Bucky dirty looks periodically.

           “Secretary Ross wants us to find some information on where Hydra troops have disappeared too. The first stop is the castle in England; Ross hopes that they went back recently, leaving clues of some kind. Stealth is imperative,” Steve flipped the file shut, looking at all of us.

           “I thought that place was destroyed?” I raised an eyebrow at Steve.

           “Apparently not; we don’t know what we are going to find, so keep your eyes open. We haven’t had any information about activity there, but we haven’t been able to get any intel. Last time the plane was shot down,” Steve sighed, nervously flipping through papers again.

           “So we���re going in blind!” Bucky yelled, making everyone jump.

           “I’m sorry, Buck, we don’t have a choice. I left out the threat Ross made sure to pass on if we don’t go through with this. We’ll all have permanent homes on The Raft,” Steve clenched his jaw as he spoke, anger rippling across his shoulders.

           “I’m starting to think Ross just wants us dead. This is a suicide mission,” Nat growled, clenching her fists.

           “Let’s get moving,” Steve said, ignoring any protests from us. Anxiety prickled all over my body; the quinjet ride was quiet, everyone consumed by their thoughts.

           “Steve, come in,” Tony’s voice crackled through my earpiece.

           “Tony, we can’t talk right now; radios are going silent in about 30 seconds. I’ll reach out when we leave,” Steve stated from the front of the jet.

           “No, you have to tur…” Tony’s voice disappeared into statics before he could finish his sentence.

           “Hopefully, it wasn’t important,” Clint grumbled, getting to his feet.

           “Everyone ready?” Steve asked over his shoulder as he brought the quinjet closer to the ground, maneuvering through the trees. We all nodded, checking that we had everything we needed; Steve came from the piolet chair to grab his shield. “Nat and I will take the West wing, Roz and Bucky take the East wing, and Sam and Clint, go through the main two floors. We’ll climb through the windows on the ends of the building, working towards where Sam and Clint are. Coms are open, keep your eyes peeled and watch each other’s backs. The sooner we sweep through, the sooner we can go home,” Steve finished with a deep breath before hitting the button to open the door. Bucky followed close behind as we silently moved through the woods surrounding the “castle”; it was barely a castle. It was so quiet I could hear the soft caws of the birds high up in the trees above and the faint whining of Bucky’s arm. We approached the East wing quickly; I spotted an already broken window within easy reach. Bucky squatted down to get me closer to the windowsill; my fingers found the smooth, moss-covered stone, digging in to hoist myself up. I pulled myself up until I could just see into the room; I watched for any movement or sign of life until the muscle in my biceps started to burn. I crawled in the window, looking around one more time before giving Bucky a thumbs up out the window. I kneeled a few feet from the window, raising my gun at the doorway, covering Bucky; I heard the soft thud of his boot hitting the stone outside. Bucky’s huge frame dropped into the room with an amazingly faint thud. An odd feeling came over me, feeling like I’d done this before as, out of the corner of my eye, I watched Bucky sifting through papers and opening drawers. I tried to push the odd feeling away, focusing on the door to the room; I glanced at Bucky and was almost knocked off my feet. The haunting image of the Winter Soldier was moving around the room instead; the red star visible on his silver arm and his wild hair moving around his face. The dreadful mask clinging to his face, leaving only his eyes and forehead visible. He turned to look at me, the dead stare of the Winter Soldier staring back at me before I felt like I was sucked into a wind tunnel, blinking rapidly to find myself squatting in front of Bucky. The mask gone, the gold in his arm catching any available light, his short hair stuck up in a few places, and his striking blue eyes boring into me, worry swimming through them.

           “What?” Bucky whispered, looking around frantically.

           “N-nothing. I, uh, just remembered a mission, I guess,” I blinked a few more times, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling.

           “What was it?” Bucky continued to search for information but glanced at me, waiting for an answer.

           “I guess we were doing something like this on a mission. But before,” I fumbled for words, turning back to the doorway, searching for movement.

           “You had a flashback,” Bucky stated, folding a few pieces of paper to put in his pocket.

           “Yeah, it was so real. I could almost hear to wiring working in your old arm,” I whispered, a chill running down my spine.

           “Next room, I want out of here as soon as possible. Are you okay, doll?” he asked, briefly caressing my face.

           “Yeah, next room,” I nodded, leaning through the doorway to check the hall. The vast hallway had four more doors, two on each side, before reaching the main corridor to meet with everyone else. Bucky and I moved through the four rooms, finding a few papers that could possibly be useful but nothing major. “Let’s go meet the others,” I sighed, trying to roll the tension out of my shoulders.

           “Let’s go, doll,” Bucky smiled, trudging towards the double doors that lead to the rendezvous point. As I turned to leave the room, I felt something bite the back of my arm; I sighed, assuming I’d have an irritating spider bite swelling in a few minutes. Bucky pushed the door open, checking the room in front of him; I took a step out of the room but didn’t make it far before dropping to one knee. My head spun, my breath coming in short gasps as black spots speckled my vision; I tried to call for Bucky, but my tongue felt thick, and no noise came out. I tried to fight the darkness overtaking me, but I was unconscious before my body hit the floor.

***

(Steve POV)

The control panel on the arm of my suit started to flash, throwing a red light against the wall to my right.

           “Nat, we have incoming. I can’t see what it is or make a connection,” I hissed. Her eyes snapped up to meet mine before we took off towards the main corridor; Nat burst through the door first. Sam and Clint ran down the steps next to us when Bucky stepped through the door opposite Nat and me.

           “Cap, we have incoming,” Sam yelled as he got to the bottom of the steps.

           “I know I can’t tell what it is, and with the radio silence, I can’t call out,” I looked back at the alert on my arm. I tapped a few more times on the control panel, trying to override the communication blocker; a few seconds later, a familiar voice crackled in my ear.

           “Cap? Natasha? Roz? Barton? Wilson? Barnes? Does anyone hear me? I’m dropping in,” I looked around the room at everyone; Bucky’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something.

           “Tony, what the hell are you doing here?” I sighed, relaxing some.

           “Get eyes on Roz, now!” he frantically yelled. Everyone’s head snapped up, looking for Roz’s figure somewhere in the room but with no luck; Bucky was the first through the double doors, running into the room at the end of the hall. We checked all five rooms but found no trace of her anywhere; Bucky was getting more panicked by the second.

           “Incoming,” I heard Tony’s voice faintly before he flew into the hallway, landing next to me. “Where is she?” his mask flipping up, showing his worried expression.

           “We can’t find her,” I stated, keeping an eye on Bucky as he moved through the rooms again.

           “Fuck! Everyone search the parameter, meet at the quinjet in 10 minutes. Go!” Tony’s mask slid back down as he took off through the giant broken window that Bucky and Roz crawled in through. Bucky, Nat, Sam, Clint, and I ran for the front door, taking off in different directions, looking for any sign of her. After 10 minutes of searching, I trudged back towards the quinjet; Sam, Clint, and Tony were standing next to it as I approached. I could see Bucky walking from the opposite direction and Nat coming from the direction of the front door.

           “Anything?” Bucky asked, panic seeping out of every pore.

           “Nothing,” Sam huffed; Clint nodded too.

           “I couldn’t even find footprints near the building,” Nat croaked, fear etched on her face.

           “Everyone on the quinjet. We need to get back to the compound so we can try and find her,” Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

           “No! You expect me just to sit around!” Bucky was spiraling, losing any self-control he had left.

           “Buck, come on,” I tentatively walked over, reaching for him. “You know we can’t do anything standing around here. Please bud,” I pleaded with him. As my hands landed on his shoulders, he broke, tears rolling down his cheeks; he finally nodded, letting me pull him onto the quinjet with everyone else. Bucky locked eyes with Sam as soon as the door closed, and I watched his demeanor change drastically; the pain got replaced with pure rage.

           “YOU!” Bucky roared, starting for Sam.

           “Cap!” panic laced Tony’s voice.

           “Bucky no!” I yelled, jumping on his back, wrapping my arm around his neck. Bucky started yelling; animalistic noises were leaving his mouth as he clawed at my arm; Sam moved as far away from Bucky as he could get.

           “I told you I didn’t want her going on this mission! Now, look what happened! It’s your fault!” Bucky screamed at Sam; his face was bright red as he fought against me. “She’s gone because of you,” Bucky yelled before dropping to his knees, a sob tearing through him. Sam stood, looking lost at what he should do next; he took a step towards Bucky.

           “Sam,” Tony warned, putting his hand up to stop him.

           “How did you know?” Bucky’s head shot up, looking right at Tony. Tony didn’t answer right away; the shock of how destroyed Bucky looked threw him off, causing him to take a step back. I tentatively took my arm from around his neck; he slumped forward some but stayed on his knees.

           “I tried to reach out to you before you hit the dead zone we set up because Bruce found something in Roz’s bloodwork. I was trying to at least tell you not to let her off the jet, but it cut out before I could tell you. I figured it would be fine since this was supposed to be an in and out mission. I started thinking about the mission in general; why was this mission so important? Why was it so urgent? I looked into the information; Ross steamrolled it because he got intel that this place had specific information we needed about operating hideouts. He refused to wait for us to verify the information and threatened to throw us all in jail. It didn’t make sense that an abandoned base would hold information about current hideouts, especially when I checked and there hasn’t been activity here in years. I tried to get here as fast as I could; I had a feeling it was a setup,” Tony was fuming by the time he finished, dropping heavily into the pilot seat.

           “Why her?” I whispered, rubbing Bucky’s back. He was still sobbing, his shoulders shaking under the waves of sobs hitting him.

           “Hydra hacked S.H.I.E.L.D and found out that they could finally get what they wanted,” Tony whispered, his head falling into his hands.

           “Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is,” Nat’s voice broke, tears rolling down her cheeks.

           “She’s pregnant,” Bucky whispered. I kneeled in front of him, placing my hands on his shoulders. His head lolled to the side some, giving me a full view of his face; the dead look swirling in his eyes was crimpling.

           “No, Bucky, no. Please,” I shook him violently, but it didn’t matter; he was gone.

Series Masterlist | Chapter 8

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