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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 month

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rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x

nerd!y/n)

summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining

words: 6.1k

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.

Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"

There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends.

"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.

Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."

A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.

"What's the project, Millers?"

The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."

Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings.

"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."

Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.

"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.

"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.

"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."

Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."

Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.

The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.

"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"

Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."

He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."

Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.

"Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."

Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."

"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."

With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.

Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.

Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap."

And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.

"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing.

"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."

Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"

Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."

The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?

Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.

And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.

At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained.

On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.

"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar.

The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.

The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.

At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.

The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.

"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.

Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."

Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.

For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.

At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.

There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.

"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat.

They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."

A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.

Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves.

As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.

In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.

Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"

Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.

Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.

Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.

"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."

Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."

While on Y/N's end...

"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.

"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."

Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...

"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."

That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.

***

Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.

The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.

"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.

The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.

As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.

"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators.

The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.

Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.

"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."

"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."

A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.

***

Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.

"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.

Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."

"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."

Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.

A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.

"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.

The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."

"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.

Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.

"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"

"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.

"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."

Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.

"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.

That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.

"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.

"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.

A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.

"Why?"

Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"

"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"

Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.

"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"

"That's not what I-"

"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo.

He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"

"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.

A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.

After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"

Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.

"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"

She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."

Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.

"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."

She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"

The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.

Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.

"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.

"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.

"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."

Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.

"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?

Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.

"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.

"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"

It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.

"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."

A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.

They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.

"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.

Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more. It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.

Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.

"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."

Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.

Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away... "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"

Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.

"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"

Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.

"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.

The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.

She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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randomgods · 7 months

Note

who’s your favorite slugcat and why?

The Hunter is definitely my favorite! You can’t get better than this lil guy :)

I connected so much with their story when I first played Rain World. Their selflessness, their battle with terminal illness, how they spend their last moments doing everything they can to save someone. It was so cool seeing a slugcat that was so involved in the lives of the iterators for the first time. And on top of that the gameplay was amazing! It was so much fun to challenge myself to learn how to fight and move through the regions quickly and efficiently in the face of danger. Just such an awesome experience.

But I also ADORE The Rivulet! I actually made an OC back in 2020 named Seven Speaks who followed The Rivulets story to a T. The story of an aquatic, salamander-spliced slugcat repairing Looks To The Moon which then allows her and Five Pebbles to reconnect was something that was very meaningful to me. So seeing it actually play out in the game almost exactly how I imagined it years before was incredible! It was everything I could have ever wanted for a continuation of the story! I definitely cried lol.

The Spearmaster is also a big favorite :) I love their story, their gameplay, and the broadcasts! I really really loved how their campaign fleshed out the iterators and their relationships. It’s so sooo cool. They’re kinda like an easier version of The Hunter to play which is fun when I don’t want to race the clock. I usually play as them nowadays.

And AHH THE SAINT! THE STORY! When I first realized what The Saint was my mind was blown. And don’t get me started on the chimney canopy change… I honestly think that was the most effective part of the entire game as a whole. You start in an area of the game where your first instinct is to go “oh I should go to Five Pebbles first, I’ll climb the wall.” You have this whole idea of exactly how you’re going to get there, I mean at this point you’ve done it so many times before. You make your way through Sky Islands and run across the top of chimney, everything is going great, and then the final screen changes. It’s gone. It’s all gone. The confusion of it all before the realization sets in. Five Pebbles collapsed. AH! I don’t think I’ll ever experience something like that again. It was so effective.

I’m going to stop myself before I start writing an entire essay on everything about this campaign. The Saint wrapped up the story of Rain World in a way that was very emotional and fulfilling to me. The only thing I would change is the dialogue between Moon and Pebbles at the end… It fell flat for me when it should have been such an impactful scene.

But ultimately The Hunter is the best!!! Love this freak!!!!!!

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pupkashi · 6 months

Text

gojo satoru masterlist !

* fluff ^ angst

— all for my angel boy <3

main masterlist

* boyfriend!gojo hcs

* rainy evenings

in which gojo gets himself caught in the rain

* christmas cuddles

gojo finds his place in the universe

* arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

* flowers

gojo is a self-certified flower enthusiast

* periods

gojo is an angel on earth when you get your period

* sugar rush ride

gojo loves sugar, and you’re too sweet to resist

* priorities

gojo has his priorities straight: you’ll always be the most important

* rough day

gojo will always cheer you up after a rough day

* mornings

satoru loves mornings with you

* egg hunting

gojo’s never been easter egg hunting, you decide it’s time for the famous bunny to pay him a visit

* sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

* grocery shopping headcanons

*^ jealousy, jealousy

the worst part of dating gojo? how often he gets hit on

* movie night

satoru gojo has developed a new weakness: romcoms

* migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

* picnics

in which mother nature decides picnics are no good without a little rain

* after like

you and satoru say the L word

* my you

gojo learns he loves stargazing

* titles

in which gojo realizes you truly see him

* going to an observatory

* costume parties

* a scenic drive with him

* time

gojo will always make sure you’re taken care of

*^ hugs

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

* sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

* clean linen

gojo’s second favorite smell is your laundry detergent

* untitled

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

* azul

when you think of love, you think of the color blue

* oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

* pretty boy

gojo has to let you know how much you mean to him

* sick

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

* scrapbooks

satoru isn’t a sentimental person, until he is

*^ nightmares

satoru has nightmares, but also long as you’re by his side he knows he’ll be okay

* easy

loving is easy when it’s gojo satoru

*^ scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

*^ arguments

arguments are never nice, but at least they help you grow

* birthmarks

even in his past lives, satoru was always loved

* pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from ever trying again

* mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new Christmas tradition

* new year, new superstition

whoever said wearing red on new years brought love was onto something

* kisses

satoru always makes sure your lips are well kissed

* f1 racer!satoru hc’s

* to love is to linger

* cereal, soup and other deep questions

* “what do you think you’d be doing if we never met?”

* “you’re bleeding!” “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

* “i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!”

* “you’re my everything”

* "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

* going to the fair hcs

* collegebf!satoru

* study buddy!satoru

* birthday special <3

* satoru loves yapping [to you]

* drabble #1

* drabble #2

* drabble #3

* drabble #4

* drabble #5

* drabble #6

* drabble #7

* drabble #8

* drabble #9

* drabble #10

* drabble #11

* drabble #13

* drabble #14

* drabble #15

* drabble #16

* drabble #17

* drabble #18

* drabble #19

* drabble #20

* drabble #21

* drabble #22

* drabble #23

* drabble #24

* drabble #25

* drabble #26

* drabble #27

* drabble #28

* drabble #29

* drabble #30

* drabble #31

* drabble #32

* drabble #33

* drabble #34

* drabble #35

* drabble #36

* drabble #37

* drabble #38

* drabble #39

* drabble #40

#pupkashi’s gojo masterlist #gojo satoru

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talesofesther · 1 year

Text

deep devotion

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Over time you came to realize more and more that sometimes Wednesday wears her words like armor. They become almost futile when you learn she speaks through actions.

Requested by anons: Here and here.

A/N: I combined two requests in this story, and I hope you guys like it, even if I feel like I deviated from them a bit. I'm not completely happy with how this story turned out, but it is what it is. Also FYI, there are a few descriptions of blood ahead, and flashbacks are in italics.

Masterlist

There was something morbid about the way the deep red color of blood mixed with the polished wood floor. It trickled down Wednesday's chin in steady droplets, splashing beside her boots in what would be an annoying stain to clean.

At least in that, the raven-haired girl could take some solace. Losing to Bianca had that effect, the one that makes you feel all bad kinds of miserable and enraged. Today especially, because it was one of those few times in which Wednesday allowed her feelings to dictate her actions.

If her labored breathing and the white-knuckled grip she had on her blade were anything to go by, she was fuming with rage. If you were here, you'd notice — this is where Wednesday's mind first goes to and she curses herself for it — but others don't, her face was kept impassive as the blade loudly clanked on the floor, as she stomped the ground with purpose, reaching the door of the fencing class quickly otherwise she'd be breaking one of the significant rules of the school. No killing your classmates.

Wednesday thought she heard the teacher calling, something about going to the infirmary; but the door had already slammed shut behind her, muffling his voice, and when he managed to reach it, she was nowhere to be seen.

She didn't really register where she was going. She just kept walking. The cold wind hit her cheeks when she stepped outside, it was comforting, she felt it on the damp and dried blood now stuck to her alabaster skin.

It was by luck, or maybe misfortune, that her path crossed with yours.

Wednesday saw you before you saw her, the pages of a book holding all of your attention as you slowly walked the stone path outside, between the lunch tables and the trees. Wednesday stopped in her tracks, waiting for the inevitable. She could taste the metallic flavor of blood on the corner of her lip, feel the sting of the recent cut and it kept her grounded.

There was something about you, something about the way the few lonely rays of sun on this cloudy day chose to shine upon the bouncing of your hair. You were all delicacy and warmth as you traced the lines on paper. While Wednesday was nothing short of a midnight moon covered by rain clouds.

That girlfriend of yours is too good for you anyways.

Maybe Bianca wasn't too far off.

"Wednesday!"

Your voice clashed with her thoughts, and before she knew it, you were shoving the book into your bag and had your hands reaching out for her.

Wednesday flinched at the sudden closeness, blinking a couple of times. The air is suddenly heavier, the clouds past the school walls are darkening quickly, it'll rain soon.

You gulped and dropped your hands, fingertips grazing the fabric over Wednesday's forearm. "What happened?" The worry in your voice was evident.

Wednesday didn't like the crease in your eyebrows or that she was the cause of it. She shook her head, strands of her hair — messy from the way she had forcefully taken her mask off earlier — getting stuck to her damp cheek, "nothing happened."

"So that just showed up there?" You deadpanned, eyes glued to her fresh wound, to the dark tone of the skin under her eyes.

"Nothing that requires you to fuss over me." Wednesday set her jaw, very much aware of you sneaking your fingers between hers. She'd never admit to liking it, but deep down she knew she didn't have to. You knew it already, you knew your way around her and it took having it, for Wednesday to understand how much she'd been wanting someone who took the time to understand her.

"I care about you," you spoke softly, somehow looking at her even softer. Raising your free hand, you pushed away the wisps of hair that had been caught in the drying blood. Your touch was all tender, as if she was fragile porcelain. Which was the furthest from the truth. Yet you did it anyway, following the same rhythm your bleeding heart set, pulsing with each beat for her. "There's a difference." You finished, and pulled her along with you.

The door to the infirmary appeared and you walked past it with no second glances, leading Wednesday to your room instead. Her hand gripped yours tighter after that.

You opened your dorm door for her and asked that she sat on your bed. She complied silently while you disappeared into the bathroom, the dark wood creaking under your steps.

Wednesday didn't say anything when you returned with a few damp gauzes and a bandaid. Or when you sat beside her, looking at her in a silent question before holding her jaw with one hand and cleaning the blood with the other; the white cloth became red, and then pink and then it didn't change at all as you cleaned every last bit from her skin, careful to not cause her any pain, eyebrows furrowed as you ever so slowly brushed her cheek.

The antiseptic stung bitterly, yet Wednesday couldn't look away from you even if she wanted to. Subconsciously, as if you were tugging at her heartstrings, she leaned into your touch, her lower lip met your palm when she relaxed. No one had the power to strip her down from her defenses as you did. It scared her, but she was addicted to the thrill of it.

You placed the purple bandaid right over the nasty cut on her cheek, and only then you asked again; "will you tell me what happened?"

Her dark eyes regarded you with caution before she averted her gaze, pulling her cheek away from your touch as it flushed pink. "Fencing class."

"Bianca?"

"She talks too much."

A beat passed in silence, the only sound being the howling wind outside your window preceding the storm. Over time you came to realize more and more that sometimes Wednesday wears her words like armor. They become almost futile when you learn she speaks through actions.

You picked up on it a few nights ago;

"Y/N if you don't turn that down I'll kick you out." Wednesday grumbled, before turning her attention back to her noisy typewriter.

You shared a glance with Enid — who sat beside you on her bed, biting her lip to contain a smile — promptly turning down the volume on your phone.

The night was a cold one, the glow of the half moon shining right outside the big round window cast bursts of color on Enid's side of the room and a soft white light on Wednesday's.

Time went by with you and Enid sharing a few laughs and Wednesday complaining about how you disturbed her peace. However, when Enid ended up sleeping on your shoulder and you squeezed yourself out of her bed to walk back to your dorm, Wednesday got up as well.

She quietly walked to her dark wooded wardrobe, opening its creaking doors to look for something inside. You followed, stopping right beside her to kiss her goodnight.

Wednesday paid you no mind, which made you frown. No matter what, there wasn't a day that came to its end without her lips settled on yours.

You reached out a hand to tug at her hoodie, but before you could, she was throwing a change of comfortable clothes into your face.

You messed up your hair as you pulled the fabric away to look at her. There was this glint in Wednesday's eyes, if you looked closely, you could see the shape of the moon on her irises. She pursed her lips in an almost smile, glancing at the clothes in your arms and then at you again.

Words weren't needed for you to understand, and your heart just about melted.

A few minutes after you exited the bathroom, now dressed comfortably in all black, you joined Wednesday in her bed. It was a tight fit and caused her body to be flush with yours — but you figured she didn't mind it much when she started playing with your hand under the covers.

Next morning you received just about twenty different pictures from Enid, most of them featuring you and Wednesday sleeping soundly, her head partly resting on your shoulder — though the last ones were all shaky, with a furious raven-haired girl reaching for the phone.

And today it's pretty evident that she's on edge, her eyebrows and lips hold a faint, permanent frown; her pupils are blown, yet miles away, as if she's here but her mind is trapped somewhere else.

"yeah, sometimes she does." There's more you want to say and Wednesday could sense it. You nagged on your lower lip as you gained the courage to do so. Her eyes followed the movement.

"Can I do something for you?"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her eyebrow twitched as if she was trying to solve a riddle. If you asked instead of just doing it, it was something you weren't sure she'd like. But you'd never given her a reason not to trust you.

She simply nodded, both hands resting on her lap, black nails tapping one another. Her eyes followed you as you moved to sit right behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off of you. When she couldn't see you anymore, she searched for something else to focus on, more specifically the grey clouds behind the tiny crack in your window.

When the tip of your fingers touched the end of one of her braids, Wednesday went as stiff as a corpse. She felt it, your touch barely there at first; careful, soft, as though testing tentative waters. Only when she melted the slightest bit toward you, that you started gently undoing the waves on her hair, strand by strand.

There was a lump on Wednesday's throat that she almost couldn't breathe over, goosebumps filled her skin at the same time her body felt too hot to the touch.

Her hair slowly fell in waves, a sea of dark over her shoulders and back as your fingers ran through it, untangling what was left of her braids. It was intimate, almost overwhelmingly so. Wednesday wasn't sure what you were getting at, but it felt a lot like a promise.

Once you were satisfied, you brushed aside her hair to lay your lips on her shoulder. Slowly as your top lip grazed the fabric of her jacket, you kissed her there.

Wednesday felt faint with the way you loved her. The splashes of rain hitting your window got blurred in her sight; she realized you just said to her those three words everyone cares so much about. And now she understands the weight of them.

Wednesday couldn't help but reach for your hand — the one that was gingerly playing with the ends of her curls — cold fingers wrapping around yours as she brought your knuckles to her own lips.

She said them back in the only way she knew how. And when your thumb traced the lines on her palm, she knew you understood.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months

Text

Under the Weather

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Despite the fact that he's coming down with a cold, Matt refuses to heed your advice on staying inside instead of running around Hell's Kitchen in the freezing autumn rain. In the morning, you're left with an even sicker, more stubborn Devil.

Warnings/tags: 18+; Nothing but fluff and a stubborn, flirty Devil

a/n: Yet another little fluffy fic for Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge by the lovely @she-likesorchids! Can you tell I had to make sure all my boys got a fic? This one was for the prompt "Let's just stay in bed." Feedback is always appreciated!

Finally finished with the after dinner cleanup, you washed your hands in the kitchen sink, the pounding of the rain outside the apartment a persistent backdrop to the evening. As you turned off the faucet and reached over to grab the towel from the nearby hook, you heard the bedroom door slide open. Glancing up from your place at the sink as you dried your hands, you spotted Matt exiting the bedroom dressed in his black suit, his black mask on his head but not yet pulled down over his face. You frowned at the sight of him, eyes focusing back on the windows covered in rainfall as the light from the billboard across the street flooded through them, coating the living room in a dark blue.

Focusing back on Matt, you hung up the towel before you began to make your way through the kitchen towards him. You noticed how he'd stopped mid-step on his way to the stairs leading to the roof access as you walked, his head shifting over his shoulder towards you.

"Matt," you said, tone lightly chastising.

It didn’t escape your notice how he'd instantly stiffened at the sound of your voice. You could also tell by the way his shoulders were slightly slumped forward and the faint red tinge visible on his nose that he still felt a bit under the weather. But of course, Matthew being Matthew, he apparently was still planning to go out. You should have known as much.

"Maybe you should stay in tonight," you suggested carefully, eyeing the thin material of his shirt as the rain only continued to dump onto the roof of the apartment. "You know, like we talked about earlier? At dinner?"

He turned fully towards you, straightening his back as his sightless gaze landed on your chest. His eyes narrowed a bit and you knew he was about to pretend the big bad Devil wasn't sick, but the faint sniffle from his stuffed up nose ruined whatever effect he thought he was about to have on you.

“I’m fine, sweetheart," he told you.

His voice was a little distorted because of the congestion and you scoffed immediately. Crossing your arms over your chest, you quirked a brow at him.

"You're sick, Matt," you pointed out. "You need rest. You said yourself earlier that nothing was going on tonight in Hell’s Kitchen. So stay in and take care of yourself. You'll be no help to anyone in the city if something actually happens and you're even sicker."

Matt shook his head at you, that stubborn expression still on his face. Of course he wasn't going to listen. He was going to ignore what he needed to do for himself for the sake of the people of Hell’s Kitchen, and as much as you loved and admired that about him, he really needed to learn one of these days that he was still only human. He needed to take care of himself.

But getting that through his head was damn near impossible.

"I don't get sick," he countered, voice still noticeably off. "I’m completely fine, sweetheart. I'm just going out for a bit to keep an eye on things. You don't need to wait up for me."

“Matt, it’s barely above freezing outside right now!” you exclaimed, throwing a hand towards the living room window. “And it’s raining . Ten degrees less and that would be snow right now! What you're wearing isn't even remotely warm. You’re going to make yourself incredibly sick if you go running around rooftops tonight dressed in that !”

Matt’s lips drew into a devilish smirk, a smug expression overtaking his features. The look might have had the desired effect on you if he hadn’t sniffled loudly yet again, his red nose scrunching up as he did.

“You like this suit,” he countered.

“No,” you said, holding up a hand as you corrected him. “I like how you look in this suit, Matt. I absolutely hate how little protection it offers for knives, baseball bats, and cold weather. There’s a massive difference.”

“I’ll be just fine,” he assured you.

Matt reached a hand up, pulling his mask down until it covered his face, leaving only his lips and chin visible. The gesture was meant to end the conversation, you were aware of that. Sighing in exasperation, you rolled your eyes at him. You knew damn well he was going to be miserable come morning.

“We all know you’re just going to do what you want anyway,” you grumbled, crossing the rest of the way over towards him. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t need you bleeding out and sick later.”

“I’m not sick,” he countered immediately.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek, just below the black fabric of his mask. “Sure you’re not, babe. I’ll remember that when you’re clinging to me tomorrow and complaining about how awful you feel.”

You could tell by the way his lips pursed and the fabric had shifted along his face that he was shooting you an irritated look. The corner of your own mouth quirked up into a smirk. You’d seen Matt sick a couple of times before and he was always absolutely desperate for physical comfort–though you figured with his heightened senses, being sick felt a whole lot worse to him. And you figured it probably muted his usual ability to navigate the world as he was used to, especially with a stuffed up nose affecting his sense of smell.

“I do not get clingy ,” he disagreed with obvious distaste.

“Whatever you say, Matty,” you replied, lightly patting him on the arm.

You turned, making your way over towards the leather couch. If Matt was going to run around outside in the equivalent of tissue paper while he was sick, you were going to relax and watch some television while being smart and not going outside in the freezing autumn rain.

“I do not get clingy!” he stated again.

Abruptly he turned, storming his way over towards the staircase. You settled into the cushions of the couch with a shake of your head.

“Alright, you don’t get clingy when you’re sick,” you told him.

As you picked up the television remote from the coffee table, you saw Matt had paused yet again at the sound of your voice. Head turning just over his shoulder, cocked a bit to the side, you didn’t miss the deep frown spreading over his lips.

“You didn’t mean that,” he pointed out, tapping a gloved hand to his ear. “I could hear your heart.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at him, you flashed him a grin before you focused on the television across the room. “Of course I didn’t,” you told him, turning on the TV. “Because you do get clingy when you’re sick.”

Matt rumbled out a noise of frustration, stalking his way up the stairs and towards the roof access without another word. He obviously knew he wasn’t winning this argument with you. You began scanning through the channels, looking for a fall baking show to watch as he pulled the door open, the sound of the rain outside briefly louder until the door closed with a sharp clang after him. Shaking your head again, you finally settled on what you were looking for.

“You’re going to be so miserable in the morning,” you muttered under your breath, aware he could still hear you.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Something ice cold landed on your bare stomach and your eyes immediately snapped open, the chill pulling you straight from your sleep. A miserable, muffled groan met your ears over the sound of light rain pattering outside as your barely conscious mind tried to quickly piece everything together.

You were in bed with Matt curled up against the back of you. Apparently it was his icy cold hand on your stomach that had woken you. He shifted behind you, his frigid hand on your bare stomach drawing you further towards him just before he buried his face against the back of your neck. You shivered at how cold he felt against you–Matt was usually a furnace who kept you warm.

“Matt, you’re freezing,” you whispered, trying to glance over your shoulder at him.

“I know,” he groaned, pulling himself in tighter to the back of you. “You’re so warm, though.”

You frowned immediately at the thick, congested sound of his voice. He sounded far worse than he had last night. And that was the only thing keeping you from your usual reaction to Matt’s nearly naked body wrapped so tight around yours.

“You’re sick,” you pointed out.

He groaned again, shaking his head against the back of your neck. “Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice almost a whine. "Don't even say it, sweetheart."

Sighing at his plea for you to not rub the consequences of his actions in his face, your hand dropped down to cover the one he had on your stomach. You did your best attempting to warm it up, rubbing your hand back and forth across his large one. Matt hummed out a pleased noise in response, the sound quite nasally.

“Fine, but you’re sick, Matt,” you pointed out. “I need to take your temperature. See what medicine we still have in the apartment for you to take because I might need to run to the store." You paused when he pitifully moaned in protest at that. "And you’re not going into the office to help Foggy with that thing this morning. I’ll call him myself. Him and Karen can handle things on their own. You need rest.”

“Only if you stay with me,” he murmured, his arm tightening around your waist. “You’re so warm and comfortable. Don't want you to go. Let's just stay in bed .”

Clearing your throat, you pitched your voice lower as you grinned and said, “I’m not clingy, sweetheart.”

Matt groaned again, burying his face further into your neck. “ Not funny,” he muttered.

“Maybe to you,” you countered, still grinning, “but I think it’s quite pertinent.” Patting the back of his hand that was holding you firmly to the front of himself, you said, "I need to get up, Matty. Need to call Fog for you and find the thermometer. And check the medicine cabinet to see what we have. Maybe make us both some hot tea while I'm up."

You felt the way he shook his head once again against you, muttering out a noise of disagreement. He began shifting behind you in the bed, soon tossing one of his legs over the top of both of yours. It was so easy to forget how muscular and powerful Matt was sometimes because you were so used to seeing him walking around the apartment in barely anything most of the time, his muscles often on display. But his single leg was solid and heavy , easily trapping you beneath the weight of it as he refused to release his hold on you and let you up.

" Matt !" you laughed out, reaching your hand down to playfully swat his thigh. "I'm trying to help you!"

"No. Don't want it," he muttered, words muffled against your skin. " Mine ," his congested voice nearly purred as he curled possessively around you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, another little laugh falling out of you. That was new.

"Matt, I at least need to call Fog and get your temperature–you're positively freezing," you told him. "Let me help you. Please?"

He grumbled discontentedly in response, not making any attempt to move. You shifted as best as you could in his restricting embrace, trying to get a look at him.

" Please ?" you tried again, drawing the word out.

It was a moment before he released a resigned sigh beside your ear, his warm breath brushing over your shoulder a sharp contrast to his cold skin pressed against you.

"Will you come back to bed after?" he asked. "Stay with me?"

"If that's what you want, I can stay with you for a bit longer this morning," you relented. "But only after I get all of that done."

Matt hummed out a noise of disagreement, shaking his head. "Uh uh," he mumbled. "I'll give you ten minutes."

You laughed once again, unable to help yourself. "Excuse me? You'll give me ten minutes?" you asked him. "What happens if I take longer than that?"

Gradually he drew his thick thigh from off the top of you, his cold hand retreating from your stomach soon after. Your brows briefly furrowed before he gave your ass a light, unexpected smack. Instantly your eyes widened in shock at the gesture.

"The Devil will bring you back to bed," he warned.

That familiar dark, gravelly tone of his was hard to miss, even with how congested he sounded. A jolt of something shot through you at his threat, the hair on the back of your neck raising. Matt rumbled out a noise behind you in response to your body's reaction.

"Better hurry," he teased. "Time is running out, sweetheart."

Tossing the covers off of yourself, you climbed out of bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Though as you headed to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet and grab the thermometer, you admittedly found yourself curious about what a sick Devil might do to you if you took too long.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #mandy's sweater weather challenge #matt murdock #daredevil

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kitasgloves · 4 months

Text

"Kiss Goodnight"

event masterlist

— ♬ "I don't want to spend my life, life. Without your kiss goodnight"

— ♬ Sakusa x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, fem reader, friends to lovers, no beta just Kiyoomi being terribly in love

For a long time, Sakusa Kiyoomi was accustomed to not caring about anything that didn't concern or affect him. All he regarded was volleyball, hygiene, and his health. He doesn't care about how others perceive him, he doesn't care about their opinions, and he doesn't care about getting along with people. Sakusa doesn't care about anything at all. But he wished someone would tell him why he still stops and stares every time you call.

He knows that girls like you, don't come with guarantees. But why does Sakusa bother lingering around you? Why does he often seek you in a room? Why does he make an effort to talk to you? And why do you have such a profound effect on him? Sakusa knows all he shared with you was friendship, but if you've got to spend your time, why won't you spend it with him?

For the period he has met and grown to know you as the team manager, changes began to occur with him. Changes that cause concern and changes that he knows you were the cause. Sakusa finds his social battery persisting when you start talking with him. He looks forward to group nightouts when you're invited. And outstandingly, he finds crowds more bearable when he's close to you, especially when you take hold on of his hand. During the evenings he'll walk home with you, seeing how near you get to him with each step, Sakusa hoped you and he would kiss goodnight before parting ways. If you think that it's right, he hopes you and him kiss goodnight. Alas, it never occurs.

Not that he started caring about people, he just became less gloomy. Sakusa just learned to ease up because of you. He notices how he easily lets people approach him and how he doesn't immediately push them away. He can hold conversations longer and even crack a smile or two. Most of all, Sakusa becomes more confident in showing the world who he is. Because he was more than just a prickly-looking, serious-toned, and intimidating athlete. He was a man passionate about things he cared about. And it involved you.

As subtly and quietly as he could, Sakusa cared for you in both minuscule and major ways, something so foreign but refreshing to experience. Offering spare wet wipes during lunch, holding the umbrella for you when it was raining or sunny, or even combing your hair back when you were throwing up during one of your hangovers. He never verbally expressed his affection because he believed his actions were loud enough. But will you pick those loose signals up?

Should you invite him in to spend the night on the floor? Sakusa realizes that he doesn't mind. How absurd as it may seem, especially from a clean freak like him, that he doesn't care about sleeping on the dusty floor of your bedroom if it means he gets to spend the night with you. If you prefer him not to, best believe he'll be a gentleman or you can show him the door. However, hope blooms in his chest when you take him to your room that night after watching movies. There was an unexplainable glimmer in your eye that blinded him in the dark as he sat on the foot of your bed.

"Kiyoomi?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to stay over?"

"Sure"

And you smiled at him. At that moment, he doesn't want to spend his life with anyone else. He slept on a cold futon but his body felt flushed with heat. Sakusa was peering up at you on your bed and you gaze back at him with a playfulness that makes his cheeks ache from grinning.

"Good night, Kiyoomi"

"Good night, [Name]"

Sakusa didn't want to close his eyes without reaching over to give you a kiss on the forehead. The action makes you momentarily freeze but let out a giggle that makes his chest flutter. Why don't we kiss goodnight? Sakusa thinks. Though it might just end his life. But he's pretty sure that it's right that you and him should kiss goodnight.

The longer he looked at you, the more it made sense. And over time Sakusa couldn't hold back his emotions any longer without spilling them to you. But call him delusional but he's beginning to see you returning his affections. His eyes feed him with encouragement every time he sees your smile wider when he's around, or how your voice sounded more tender when calling his name, or how gentle your hand felt on his arm. Even if the two of you grew more obvious, Sakusa needed confirmation.

Valentine's Day was naturally busy with couples walking around and special events made for lovers. There were promos for the team Sakusa played with that he had to deal with and exclusive events for fans. Such as meet and greets. Sakusa couldn't wait for the day to end so he could shoot his shot at you while today lasted. After hundreds of talking and taking pictures with fans, Sakusa bolted into the showers and got dressed.

"Oh, Omi-kun's got a date!"

"I bet it's [Name]-chan!"

"It is! I saw him asking her out after the meet and greet!"

Chatter filled the showers, and although Sakusa rolled his eyes, there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and a hint of a smile. He nods goodbye to his teammates and rushes to meet you at the restaurant he suggested. Sakusa arrives breathless but oxygen was even more severely knocked out of his lungs when he saw your alluring figure waiting for him at the entrance. For beyond a six-foot man, Sakusa felt absolutely weak.

"You good? You're sweating a lot"

You tilt your head at him and he waves it off as he offers his arm for you to take before entering the restaurant. Dinner was filled with hushed laughter and exchanging dirty jokes. Sakusa thought how impressive it was that he didn't look away from you at least once and he finds you doing the same. It took all of his willpower not to lean over the table and kiss you then and there, not caring if he got lipstick on his lips. He holds back because he was reserving it for later on.

After dinner, you and he strolled around the city with linked arms and intertwined hands. Sakusa couldn't help but stare and think a lot about your mouth, he wanted to shut you up so badly with his mouth whenever you talked. But he's not really the type to be into making out in public. So, he clings on to the remains of his patience as he takes you home. He was about to lean in at your doorstep and kiss you goodnight on the lips but you stop him with a grip on his tie.

"You should stay over"

Oh, Sakusa's heart skips a beat. You were not asking him if he wanted to stay over, you were commanding him to stay over. And he agrees quicker than a blink of an eye. He shrugs off his jacket and strips it into his underclothes, you brush your teeth and change into your sleepwear. But you both didn't plan on sleeping yet. While tucked under the covers with the television on, Sakusa gives you one look to find your eyes drooping, it was his chance.

You felt a pair of soft and eager lips on yours, enough to jolt you awake. Sakusa was kissing you and you sprung into action by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to deepen the kiss. He hums into the kiss as his hands snake around your waste while he towered over you. The happiest chemicals burst throughout his body as you open your mouth to invite his tongue in, he obliges and steals a moan out of you. Feverent hands pull and grip each other close while in a liplock as you two pull away after what felt like eons later.

"Kiyoomi..."

His name sounded breathless on your lips and his guts suddenly felt like mush. Then he leans in to steal a kiss, and another, and another until you laugh and push him away because of how greedy he is.

"I'm terribly in love with you, [Name]"

"You're lucky I feel the same way"

"So, can we kiss goodnight?"

Sakusa looks into your eyes and smiles when you roll your eyes before cackling at him. He was beyond glad now you and he can kiss goodnight. When you lean forward and give him a long smooch on the lips, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"I don't want to spend my life without your kiss good night"

He says to you and your eyes soften. As the television switches off and you both curl under the covers, Sakusa gazes at you with his onyx orbs filled with warmth as he goes to stroke your cheek before going forward one last time to kiss you goodnight. Your eyes shoot open and grin as you return the favor and it makes Sakusa's limbs feel like melting butter. Yeah, for the rest of his life, Sakusa needs your kiss goodnight.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #Spotify

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kkami-writes · 8 months

Text

waiting for us — chapter thirty five. in the rain cw. light breakdown wc. 1k + 2 ss

How long have you been sitting here? Curled up on a slab of concrete next to the vast field of the park. It’s too much. Your fears, your insecurities, there’s a looming darkness hovering over you, ready to strike when you’re weak. Why now? You had been having so much fun with them, finally lowering your walls and trying to let them in. But you could still hear your brothers voice in the back of your head, poisoning you slowly.

Seeing all of them today had just cemented the fact that you had fallen in love with these boys. You hadn’t even been on all of your solo dates yet, but you knew that it was inevitable and it scared the shit out of you. Blunt fingernails dig into the flesh of your upper arms, trying to pull yourself together but nothing had seemed to work. You were spiraling fast.

You had promised though, that when it was getting bad you’d text someone. So you had messaged the one who’d understand the most.

By the time Jisung finally shows up it’s already started to sprinkle just a little but it doesn’t bother him. You are far more important than a little rain. He feels like his heart might shatter at the sight of you, looking so small as you bundle into yourself. Jisung doesn’t want to frighten you so he just sits down next to you quietly, not touching you even though he just wants to scoop you up into a hug and shield you from the world that had hurt you so much.

“Hi…” You’re able to mumble out but you don’t look at him.

“Hi baby. Do you want to talk about it?” You shrug. “Was it today? Were we too much? I was a little scared we were pushing it a bit,” Just hearing his voice is soothing, instantly comforting you and you peak up at him from your safe little ball.

“No. It’s..not that. I just. I don’t know…I’m just so scared,”

“Mm, scared of what baby?” You’re trying to find the right words to say and Jisung is nothing but patient, letting you take all the time you need. He’s been so incredible to you, so understanding and sweet that you find yourself being honest. All your emotions spilling out at once before you can stop it.

“I’m- I’m so scared because I know I’m falling so in love with you guys and I’m scared that the more you get to know me the more you’ll realize that you were just in love with the idea of me. That you’ll realize you could never love someone like me,” You curl yourself back up, voice wavering with tears you’re so desperately not trying to shed.

Jisung is suddenly in front of you, tugging your arms to pull them away from you. Once he’s untangled you, he’s cupping your cheeks and pushing your chin up so you can stare at him.

“Silly girl. Don’t you know that we’re all already so in love with you? We have been before we even knew you were really our soulmate. We love all of you. Both the good and the bad. I know we’re still learning about you but I can promise there’s nothing you could tell us that would make us love you less. We love how strong you are, how willing you are to let us all in. We know how difficult this is for you and it’s something we all struggled with. But I hope you know that we’re in this for the long run. Sorry but you can’t get rid of us. Thirty day return policy. Besides, you could tell us you committed murder and we’d all say they probably deserved it. Pretty sure Minho knows where to hide a body. Hell, Seungmin would probably commit murder FOR you. Wouldn’t even have to lift a finger baby,” This gets a snort out of you and he beams down at you.

“There’s that cute laugh,” He hums, tucking some hair behind your ear. “It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. We all have those days and we’re always gonna be here for you when you’re down but please don’t ever doubt our feelings for you,” All you can do is nod your head.

By this point, it’s raining pretty hard, effectively soaking both of you but neither of you seem to care all that much.

“Now come on, lets get you out of the rain and into a warm shower. If you catch a cold it’s gonna be me that we bury next because Minho will kill me. Will you tell them I slayed at my funeral?”

“Ha, don’t worry I’ll let them all know you served cunt baby girl. But that won’t happen, I’m sure I can work some magic against Minho,” Jisung laughs.

“Ah, my savior,” He helps you up off the concrete and moves to guide you back towards his car. You stop in your steps though and it makes Jisung pause, turning back to look at you. “What’s up?”

You don’t know if it’s because your emotions are still running haywire or Jisung’s speech but you just can’t hold yourself back anymore. You reach out to wrap your fingers around the collar of his hoodie and pull him down to you, gently placing your lips against his.

He seems for frozen for a second before melting against you, arms coming to wrap around your middle to pull you even closer. You’re a little clumsy with your lips but Jisung makes up for it as he guides you through it, his lips moving rather expertly. When you pull away you’re panting softly, having forgotten to breathe. Jisung can’t help but place a few more kisses against your lips and it has you blushing. Mostly because you can’t believe you just did that.

“Was….that your first?” You look away, unable to look him in the eyes as you nod. If possible his smile gets even bigger. “You are so adorable,” Jisung hums, slipping his hands into yours. He’s back to pulling you to the car. “Ok but seriously, you’re soaked. We need to get you out of the rain asap. You can have more kisses later,”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying. Can I take it back?”

“Nope. Hyunjin bragged about you kissing his cheek. I cannot WAIT to rub it in his face that I was your first kiss,”

“You guys are about to be unbearable aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah,”

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yoimix · 1 year

Text

genshin men + sleepless nights

ft. diluc, xiao, kaveh

playlist. afterglow - taylor swift ; like real people do - hozier ; kiss goodnight - i don’t how but they found me

[ tw: nightmares, suggestive ]

✽ diluc is well-acquainted with nightmares. he often wakes up in the quiet of the night to dreadful noise inside his head, grating, punishing him for the past. but now that he instead meets your soft touch and warm breath, he finds himself calming down easier. i’ll keep you safe. he’s said that to you before, in the heat of battle. only recently did he discover you’re keeping that promise when the flames have died down. the world is cruel, but despite that, he will still love you. that is his promise to you. even through rapid, unsteady breathing, he seeks out the nook of your shoulder, pressing his forehead against your skin like you’re the magic remedy to his ailments. you shiver sometimes, mumbling that his hair tickles; it only makes him sigh in relief, and you hold yourself back from giggling maniacally at the sensation. you smooth his hair away from your neck but he only buries himself further in.

“diluc.”

“mhm.”

“now, you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

“why would i ever do that?”

you huff and diluc smiles, lips pressing against your neck in a flurry of soft kisses.

“diluc! that tickles,” you complain, weakly pushing his head away. a deep chuckle rumbles from him and he rises to finally meet your eyes.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers, suddenly sincere.

“now you ask? after you’ve violated my poor neck like that?”

“you didn’t complain last time.” he raises an eyebrow.

“really, diluc?” you scoff. “where’s all this unbridled confidence coming from? usually you’d blush like a newly-wed bride the moment i whisper something in your ear.”

diluc rolls his eyes, a faint glow over his cheeks under the moonlight. “that’s not true. and... and i... i’m simply enjoying myself.”

you whistle. “mondstadt’s very own winery tycoon discovers the joys of teasing his lover in the dead of night. riveting.”

diluc sighs in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “can you not? you always tease me.”

“you’re so easy to tease.” you bite down your lips. it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, his impulse fighting to take over the control he exerts.

he caves, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your mouth. his lips linger; one kiss, two kisses, till he has you pressed against his chest, his arms secure around your waist.

you pull away, before placing a quick kiss to his nose. none of the other kisses have the effect as this one, for his ears nearly spark with the rush of heat to his face.

“are you growing a stubble?” you bite down a teasing smile. “i don’t want my chin all itchy every time we kiss.”

he grimaces. “no. i’ll shave tomorrow. it makes me look too much like my father.”

you purse your lips. it’s the same quiet of winter as the one you met him in. he was a talented boy, and you, the bane of his existence. since then, many winters have passed, some cozy, some silly, and some lonely and grieving. the winery has dimmed (even diluc), but everything is always bright in your wide eyes, from the lush grapevines to the sunset-haired man. you’re both aware you cannot win against time. and so, just like him, you keep every postcard.

“diluc,” you call, hesitant. “it’s not a bad thing.”

“i know,” he responds curtly.

you never learned what to say. diluc never wants you to.

he holds your wrist, lifting it up to place your palm against his cheek again. it’s quiet. he breaks eye contact.

“i have regrets, (name). and they’re all because of... my ego.”

“diluc-”

when it rains, it pours.

“if only i were... if only i were a better man... if i were less cruel,” he whispers, remorse coating his tongue like ash.

you smooth your thumb over his cheek, till he sighs. diluc meets your eyes with the glow of embers, soft and a little lost, maybe.

“you’re a good man to me,” you say finally. “i think that’s a good start.”

diluc sighs again, snapping himself out of his daze. “and you’re too good to me.”

“who else will buy me sickly sweet flowers and get me the best dandelion wine in mondstadt?”

diluc rolls his eyes, taking your wrists once again to plant a kiss each against them.

“thank you, (name),” he says, a smile finally sprouting on his warm lips.

“of course, diluc,” you mumble. “you mean so much to me... anyway, shall we bake tomorrow? surely you can leave the abyss alone for the weekend.”

diluc blinks. “actually...”

your smile drops and he gulps, swallowing his words.

“yes,” he answers. “my schedule is clear tomorrow. but i’m... i’m not quite proficient with baking, my love.”

“that’s alright.” you wave your hand dismissively before going off on a tangent, on a path of words diluc’s quite familiar with. snapdragon flowers, dandelion seeds, sweet flower jam—you certainly have a wide knowledge of all of these. he’s seen you collect them for hours on end, your odd little baking experiments giving adelinde a heart attack. you’ve always been this way. after all these years, the winery thinks of you as fondly as he does.

diluc tucks your hair behind your ears, running his fingers through your hair once you’re snuggled up in bed again. you’re still mumbling about narrowing down which recipe to try tomorrow morning in a sleep-laced haze. diluc can’t get enough of it.

“you mean so much to me too,” he whispers.

✽ xiao is a warrior first and foremost, and everyone knows warriors can never sleep at night. for xiao, it’s a special case. his war is not a war people can thank him for, nor does he see an end to it. it is invisible to most, and his battle scars are the only monument to his acts of deliverance. but you... you, with your curious eyes and fickle fingers, always running your mouth about his tattoos and breaks in his schedule—is he supposed to open up so easily? is he supposed to sigh in relief at your animated explanations or get so drowsy on sunlit afternoons when you’re around? is he supposed to desperately want to hold you? perhaps he is, for his eyes always seek your figure, hands itching to drop his spear and take your hands instead. if he asks for forgiveness for all that he is, would you smile at him and pretend he is as human as you? no, he’s known you for months. you’d do something outrageously stupid—and it’d be the medicine to all his ailments.

“how is it my fault?” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“of course it’s your fault!” you huff.

“i never prevented your... afternoon naps.”

“but you wouldn’t nap with me!” you throw your hands up, reasoning as though it’s common sense for him to know. “do you know how cold it was? i nearly shivered myself off the cliff!”

xiao feels a rush of blood to his cheeks, coughing to hide the hot discomfort.

“and now you refuse to sleep in my nice, warm bed, which i made very specifically for you. not that you care but it’s very comfortable. ahh, it’s good to be home once in a while.”

why are you advertising your bed to him? it’s not like he’s going to buy it. he doesn’t have mora anyway, nor will he ever need to carry it.

“i don’t need to sleep,” he states, re-emphasizing his point. “i am a yaksha.”

“i don’t care,” you grumble, sleeplessness clearly clawing at your brain. “you swore an oath to me.”

xiao blinks. “this was... this was not the oath. i said i’d come to you when you need me if you—”

“—call your name,” you interrupt, tapping your feet impatiently. “xiao. xiao. conqueror of demons. my dearly beloved. xiao. i need your help.”

xiao’s not sure when the terms of the contract spiraled into something like this. you are partners; a dashing young adventurer and a cynical yaksha who are already unlikely to be friends. since when have you grown so close to him? in fact, if he were to lean in...

absolutely not.

xiao straightens. he didn’t realize the physical proximity at first.

“are you... teasing me?” he nearly spits poison with that question. though, you’d savor that poison like sweet wildberries.

“is it so strange to sleep beside me?” you take a step back, chewing on your lip. some things do deter you. despite being a hardy adventurer.

it’s already strange enough for me to sleep, he wants to say.

“will it make your night easier?” he asks quietly.

you brighten visibly. the moonlight pales when you look like that.

“alright,” he answers, staring at your brisk nodding.

he sits hesitantly at the corner of your bed, looking up at you with innocuous eyes. you stand in front of him, lacking your usual movement like you’re still processing everything. for a moment, you look flustered. but it’s not like xiao can tell. on your face, everything looks sweet.

“i...i- uh...” you stutter. “i didn’t think i’d get this far.”

xiao raises an eyebrow.

“a-anyway. scoot. this is my favorite side.”

“you... humans have favorite sides?”

“well, some of us do. some of us don’t care. i happen to have one though so you’ll have to deal with it, mr yaksha.”

it’s not like he hasn’t dealt with worse. he drags his legs onto the bed and shifts awkwardly till he’s made space for you.

you jump into bed with the energy of a vishap hatchling, and the thought is so ridiculous he suppresses a smile.

at first, there is peace. then you inch closer, like slower movement would fool his trained senses. he’s warned you before. karmic debt is not a trifling matter—and your weak skin and bones cannot withstand it.

time has proved, however, that you are not as weak to him as he is to you.

“does it hurt?” you ask.

“hm?” he turns his head, caught off-guard.

“y’know...” you continue. “your fights. i’ve seen some nasty injuries. do they hurt?”

you’ve never asked him about his past. he’s numb to it now, but you never poke your head there. even if you’ve poked it nearly everywhere it shouldn’t be.

“not quite.”

not now.

perhaps baizhu has been going about the wrong way making medicine for him. or perhaps, you are an ingredient undiscovered by the medical world.

“good.” you grin, and his heart flakes on him. all this from a smile? the conqueror of demons folding like a crumpled piece of paper? but it’s you, after all. he should know better. “if i hurt you, let me know.”

xiao chokes a little, words spawning and dying just as rapidly in his throat. what can he possibly say to you?

“maybe i won’t have nightmares anymore now,” you mumble, snuggling closer to his arm. it must be uncomfortable, xiao thinks. his arm, bone and muscle, was not made to be rested upon.

but you cling so dearly.

“you’ve been having nightmares?” he asks. he never asks you about your nights. at least directly. acute observation gets him most answers and you are not a difficult person to read. so your declaration truly leaves him puzzled.

you don’t answer immediately.

“(name)?”

“yeah. they make me uncomfortable. but nothing like a little fear to keep me on my toes, right?”

xiao gets what you’re saying, but he doesn’t necessarily approve of it. he’s not the kind to poke his nose into someone else’s business, but at this proximity your fresh, earthy smell mingles so perfectly into his own. is it still someone else’s business if you breathe as one, every exhale tangling into each others’?

“i could eat them.”

you pause to blink before snickering loudly, clutching your stomach. silence follows.

“wait, you’re serious?”

“yes.”

“of course. i should’ve known. uh... i don’t think you need to do that.”

“they don’t hurt me too much.”

“so they do hurt you?”

“...”

xiao purses his lips, trying not to meet your focused gaze. unfortunately, it lands on your sweet, plump lips. he immediately jerks his head to the side.

“i already told you,” you continue, paying no heed. “no more nightmares for me now.”

“you can’t be sure of that.”

“it’s scientifically backed,” you press, voice dropping to a comforting whisper, “that you fall asleep faster, and sleep much better with a loved one.”

does he constitute a loved one? xiao parts his lips and closes them.

“look at me.”

xiao can’t. he’s all too aware of the physical proximity, all too aware of your fingers drawing circles on his arms. you will not ask, he knows. but neither will he.

and sometimes you don’t need to.

you draw nearer to land a kiss on his cheek. it’s not a demanding touch, light as feather, in fact. but xiao feels blood rush to his head like never before.

“you- i- i think that- you look cute,” you manage to say out loud, not quite what you mean. “so... um... can you please look at me?”

xiao turns his head finally, to meet an expression he has never seen before. lips pursed, eyes flitting nervously, and chest heaving slow and unsteady. he’s seen this among mortals. never in you.

and it’s strange to admit just how accustomed he’s become to mortal life.

xiao’s breath ghosts over your lips, hesitation still clawing at his throat. being a decisive fighter does not make him very decisive in other regards.

so, you do it for him. pressing your warm lips to his, you sigh just as he does, like the night is finally warm again. though his beating heart says otherwise, he feels so at peace for once that drowsiness settles on his eyelids and he draws even closer to you. relief is not a feeling he is accustomed to.

you pull away to place your head against his chest, squeezing his torso in a hug. he knows it’s a way of showing comfort. but he can’t possibly describe what he feels from that. can you do it again?

“will you come sleep here tomorrow night too?” a small smile plays on your lips when you face him.

“i suppose,” he answers.

“and the next?”

“mhm.”

“...and the next?”

xiao cannot help his smile.

“i swore an oath, did i not?”

✽ kaveh is too impatient to stay still in bed when he can’t sleep. he’d rather take advantage of his insomnia to work on the bubbles of inspiration that rise and fizz out as quickly as they come. but every time he’s lying beside you, he can’t bring himself to pry your arms away from his torso. it’d be sacrilege to wake you up, not when you look so quiet and peaceful, away from a world of dry commotions. and on nights you can’t sleep, he refuses to go to bed too. it is imperative to his sleep that you doze off beside him. he doesn’t need incessant proofs of his passion, and he doesn’t need the akademiya’s validation. all he wants is a life as soft and precious as you, like dew on padisarah in the early mornings he sleeps through. oh, all the things he would give up to have you sleeping soundly by his side this night, and the next, and the next. it aches to have you away.

“i can’t sleep, kaveh,” you mutter, annoyed.

“i know,” he responds, lips upturned. “this is the fifth time you’ve said it in the past twenty minutes.”

“you’re exaggerating,” you huff, tugging closer to his chest anyway. “i should not have stayed past six at puspa cafe.”

“ah. so whose fault is it that you can’t sleep?”

you scowl. “i thought the coffee wouldn’t have an effect on me. it wasn’t that strong.”

kaveh quietens, and for a moment, you worry he’s fallen asleep.

“shall we take a walk then? when i watch the city sleep, i want to fall asleep too.”

you pause before sitting up and following his lead, hand in weary hand. you make sure to be as quiet as mice, so as to not wake up kaveh’s sleeping roommate. usually, your boyfriend wouldn’t care. but it seems your considerate nature has taken a toll on him.

the smell of spices still wafts through the streets long after everyone has closed shop. the dogs have followed their owners home, and the strays are curled up by alleys and corners in a huddle of warmth. at least where you’re at, the two of you are the only souls treading the pavement, save for a few stragglers, cats prowling and students celebrating the end of finals. you can almost feel their relief, laughing with kaveh as you notice a young scholar holler in joy with his friends when an old lady immediately shuts them down to be quiet.

“what was that about the city sleeping?” you hum, elbowing him.

“and you really thought you were immune to caffeine?” kaveh retorts, amusement playing on his lips.

“shut up.” you lightly punch his arm, which he, of course, reacts to overdramatically. to him, that’s the cutest ‘shut up’ he’s ever heard.

a fresh breeze passes by the two of you, making him step closer, shoulders touching and fingers intertwined.

“lately,” he starts, ruby eyes lost in contemplation, “my team’s been researching the lost paradise of king deshret. they say he made a contract with the god of time to build an eternal oasis, all the wonders of the land frozen in a beautiful frame for the goddess of flowers. isn’t that lovely?”

“what’s so lovely about building a cemetery for someone you love?”

kaveh sighs. but when he opens his mouth, there is no answer. you hide a small smile as he thinks.

“well, it was to honor her passing... but you’re right. i’d rather honor the living.”

“well, king deshret also went mad. good to see you’re still sane.”

kaveh turns red. “i’m not joking! you see the beauty in all this, don’t you?”

a smile tugs your lips as you reach out to grab his face. “yes, of course. but more so in your face. and your hands. and your mouth. and your stupid little head with all its wild imaginations.”

“you tease me too much,” he huffs when you’re done planting rapid kisses to his face. his expression is something between a scowl and pout, hands comfortably over yours as they rest against his cheeks.

“do you dislike it?”

“i’m not answering that.”

your laughter is full of heart, and kaveh can’t help but join in, throwing his head back as he does.

saturday evenings are quiet at the center of the city; but the further you branch out towards the hubs, there are lively crowds waiting to greet you. your next destination is lambad’s tavern, stopping to grab a cup of water and converse with kaveh’s old classmates from the akademiya. it must be a ksharehwar thing to seemingly never sleep.

kaveh’s so-called remedy to sleeplessness ends up turning into a catch-up session, sleep tossed out of the window. the warm glow of the tavern, however, makes you miss his bed more. perhaps his trick did work, in a strange, twisted way. but still, you don’t appreciate the long way around.

it takes a while before you can finally walk out the doors of the tavern—and the night simmers down again when you find him. looks like your boyfriend has made friends with the wood, as he rests his head on one of the outdoor tables of the tavern, all by himself. you feel a sting of guilt for holding him back from his sleep. it’s not easy, working day to day on as little sleep as he does.

“kaveh,” you call.

he meets you with a dazed smile, clumsy and unsteady in the way he moves.

“did you drink when i wasn’t looking?” you ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

he frowns immediately at your accusation, shoulders sagging. “can’t i be this way because of you?”

“well, it’s usually your drunken stupor.”

he huffs. “you’ll never know what you do to me if you keep your so-called logic wrapped so tight around your throat.”

“why? is there something else you’d rather have wr—”

“ahem.” kaveh flushes so deep, he’d put zaytun peaches to shame with that hue. “what i mean is. you don’t know the effect you have on me. it might as well be intoxication.”

you press your knuckle to your nose, trying to hide your smile. kaveh is quick to catch on, his grin widening.

“no, it must be intoxication,” he presses, moving closer to you with eyebrows furrowed. “i even get along with alhaitham these days. can you imagine?”

you giggle. “how frightening.”

kaveh leans in, his eyes shining prettier in the moonlight. if only you knew they open to reflect you. his expression eases and a smile blossoms.

“you make me see love everywhere,” he whispers, lips hesitantly hovering over yours. “and it is wonderful to feel that way. thank you.”

“oh gosh, you’re so... you say sickliest sweet things. it’s disgusting.”

before he can retort, you tug on the strawberry blond strands, pressing your lips to his. he does not let you pull away, his arm snug around your waist. with kaveh, the butterflies never die, natural when his lips taste of honey.

“for the record,” he slurs, drunk off your kiss more than any alcohol. “i would build you more than paradise. i would start laying the bricks for heaven if you asked.”

and you’d make sure he sleeps soundly instead each night he forces himself to work. he’s too sweet for his own good. in the city of wisdom, everyone knows the cost of love without labor. but your attempts to ensure his rest is your labor.

you laugh, patting his cheek. “how about you start laying the bricks to a house of your own?”

an instant pout tugs at his swollen lips.

“oh, don’t get mad.” you cups his cheeks and pull his face to your level, pressing a feather kiss to his forehead. “i know times are hard for dreamers like you.”

“you make me sound so silly.”

“i’m sorry.” you caress your thumb over his cheek, worried you’ve overstepped in your teasing.

“no.” he smiles sheepishly. “i don’t mind being your silly boyfriend. if it makes you smile, at the very least.”

“you silly man.”

“you’re smiling.”

“is the victory satisfying?”

“sort of...” his voice drops to a cheeky whisper as he leans in close to your ear. “but the rest of the night can be... more so.”

“kaveh. we’re in public!”

“what, it’s not like it’s a secret. alhaitham and our poor neighbors are the first victims if you suddenly want to be considerate of that.”

“oh my god.”

“c’mon. kiss me. there’s no one else outside.”

“if there’s anyone who appreciates a room, it should be you.”

“mhm. yes. a bedroom, more so right now.”

you smack your hand over his mouth, unable to hold back your laughter at the flabbergasted look on his face. it slowly morphs into annoyance, and then acceptance.

“don’t be upset,” you say, placing a light kiss on his nose.

you know just the way to sedate him. kaveh should have you arrested for whatever violations you’re committing against him. there must be laws against the fevers you raise on his skin. right?

“shall we go home?” you smile with sleepy eyes.

and his heart melts. there’s nothing more he wants than a home with you.

“lead the way, my love.” he grins wide, and suddenly, the marble and the cobblestones melt away, your hand over his the only stronghold left. it is not loud enough yet to leave his mouth, but the answer to the architect’s greatest dilemma—is you.

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diazsdimples · 1 month

Note

Buddie "wish I could carry you in my pocket"

"Wish I could carry you around in my pocket," Buck sighs as he gazes lovingly at Eddie sitting on the kitchen table. He's just a little too short for his legs to touch the ground, so he's got his ankles hooked together as he swings his legs back and forth. That, plus the oversized hoodie he's wearing have the effect of making him look like an overgrown toddler and Buck thinks he is simply adorable.

The minute the words leave his lips, Buck has an idea. A year or so ago, Buck had been messing around with one of Maddie's old spellbooks when he'd come across a Shrinking Spell. Thinking it would be useful if he ever needed to pull someone out of a mound of rubble or remove a crush, Buck had learned the spell, accidentally shrinking Maddie's laptop before figured out the reversing spell and had put it to right.

"Hmm?" Eddie says, lifting his eyes ever so slightly from the cookbook he's studying. "What was that, baby?"

Buck rolls up his sleeves and flexes his fingers a little. "Oh nothing, don't mind me." He clicks his fingers and looks pleased as a small shower of blue sparks rain onto the hardwood floors. There's a very faint smell of sea salt, but hopefully not enough for Eddie to notice. "Hold still."

"Wha-?"

Eddie barely has a moment to register Buck's words before Buck does a series of complicated wiggles with his fingers, mutters "Parvus" under his breath, and Eddie is suddenly shrouded in a cloud of royal blue energy. The room is suddenly filled with the scent of the ocean, as if Buck has suddenly stepped out onto Santa Monica beach.

When the cloud clears Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and Buck's heart is instantly in his throat.

"Eddie?" he calls out, walking towards the table where his boyfriend had been perched moments earlier. "Eddie are you still here?"

I've fucking disappeared my boyfriend, Buck thinks in a moment's panic. He hadn't read anything in the fine print about performing the spell on performing it on human subjects, and he's also not sure how to control the size of the thing he's transforming. There is a very real possibility that he's shrunk Eddie to the size of a dust mite and will never be able to resize him again.

Why the fuck can't he use his brain before acting??

Just before Buck plummets into a proper panic attack, there's a small movement on the table, just behind the cookbook resting on the edge.

"Buck, what the fuck have you done to me?"

The voice is high pitched and quiet but unmistakably Eddie's, and it takes Buck a second to locate it. But there, dusting himself off and looking decidedly unimpressed, is the smallest Eddie Buck has ever seen in his life. He's about the size of Buck's forefinger and leans against the pages of the cookbook as he glares up at his boyfriend.

"Oh my god, you are so tiny!" Buck grins as he takes in Eddie in all his miniscule glory. "I can't believe that worked!"

Buck reaches out and picks Eddie up, his fingers pinching at the back of Eddie's hoodie, and he drops his boyfriend into the palm of his hand. Eddie wobbles unsteadily before gingerly lowering himself down so he's sitting on the edge of Buck's palm with his legs dangling over the edge, no dissimilar to how he was on the table. He crosses his arms across his chest and glares up at Buck. If he wasn't all of 3 inches tall, it would almost be intimidating

"Put me back," he demands, the authoritativeness of his tone lost entirely by the fact that he sounds like he's swallowed a tank of helium. "Put me back or so help me God-"

"Or what?" Buck giggles, "You'll crawl up my nose?"

"I'll squeeze inside your dickhole and cause permanent damage with my teeth and fists," Eddie counters with a huff.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, babe."

"Buck please, we've got a shift in 3 hours. Make me big again," Eddie pleads, and Buck's completely incapable of defying his boyfriend at the best of times, especially when he's perched perfectly in the palm of Buck's hands, looking so tiny and adorable and pleading silently with his big brown eyes.

Buck sighs and holds his palm adjacent to the table so Eddie can walk across it and take up position next to the cookbook.

"Can I at least try fitting you in my pocket?" he asks, giving Eddie his puppy eyes, but it seems Shrunk Eddie is immune to Buck's charms. He shakes his head vehemently, snapping his fingers so a ball of deep green energy appears in the palm of his hands. The mellow, woodsy scent of pine trees cuts through the saltiness of Buck's magic as Eddie juggles the energy ball between his hands.

"Try it, I dare you."

Knowing when he's beaten, Buck relents with a sigh. Buck may be the one that practices magic the most but Eddie comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers, and Buck has no trouble admitting that Eddie is the more skilled magician of the two of them. If Eddie wanted to, he could turn Buck into a cockroach in a matter of seconds.

"Magnus" he mutters, channelling a fraction of his energy towards Eddie, and there's another cloud of rich blue energy and Eddie reappears.

He shakes out his arms and hops off the table. "You have no idea how weird that was," he grimaces. "You looked like a giant!"

"Don't I always?" Buck teases, referencing his slight height advantage against Eddie which was a slight sore point in their relationship.

Eddie takes two steps forward so they're nose to nose, and is about to open his mouth to scold Buck before a look of surprise passes over his face.

"Huh!" he says, stepping back so he's able to look at Buck properly. A grin begins to spread over his face as he looks Buck up and down. "I think that spell made me taller!"

Buck balks. "Absolutely not, that's not possible," he says, shaking his head. "I'm the tall one!"

Eddie steps back into Buck's space and yep, he's definitely grown an inch or two. They're almost completely at eye level, with Eddie a fraction taller, if anything. Buck gulps. Maybe he shouldn't have played around with magic.

"No, baby, you're definitely shorter than me no," he grins, and he tilts Buck's chin up (up!!!) to kiss him. It's soft and sweet, their lips moving in tandem. Eddie's smiling into the kiss and Buck can feel the smugness radiating off him.

"I'll just have to shrink you again," he points out as they break apart, but Eddie merely grins and kisses Buck on the forehead.

"I'd like to see you try."

Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!!

#james answers things #james writes #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck #911 ficlet #magic!buck #magic!eddie #shrunk!eddie

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

Note

Travis 🥰 a rainy night in leads to a game night that becomes competitive and ends up 🤤🫠🤭😍

Warnings: suggestive content but no actual smut

It wasn’t initially in your plans to spend date night stuck in your apartment with Travis, but you definitely weren't going to ruin a perfectly good outfit in the rain, so you both decided to order some pizza, crack open a couple of beers and a bottle and wine, and play some board games that were collecting dust in your hall closet.

"I win!" You cheered out, placing your last token into the slot, effectively giving you four in a row in the game of Connect Four. Travis scowled, sucking his teeth at you. You had beaten him the last three out of four games, and it was starting to wound his ego.

"It doesn't matter anyway. This game is rigged." You furrowed your brow, looking at Travis over your wine glass. "How, Mr. Sore Loser?"

"I let you win every time because you're so damn cute." Travis smirked, swallowing the last sips of his beer. "You know compliments don't make you any less of a loser, right?" You chuckled, standing up to go to the kitchen.

"Can I get you another beer, baby?" You turned on your heels, waiving the empty can at him. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks babe." Travis stroked his beard, examining the game board to see where he went wrong.

"Trying to see where else I could have beat you? Right here." You drug your finger down the diagonal, where you were one token away from winning a different way. Travis rolled his eyes as you giggled, handing him a new open can of his favorite beer.

You plopped down in your seat, the wine in your glass sloshing around. You had more than a couple of glass tonight, easily getting carried away under the guise of a competitive spirit. Travis glanced up at you, dropping your gaze when he noticed you smiling at him.

"What?" You tried to hide your blush behind your wine glass.

"I wasn't kidding about the cute thing." Travis admitted, feeling very bold with some alcohol coursing through his veins. Your relationship was still new, fresh, and very passionate. The kind of love where you can barely keep your hands off of one another. You were hoping the physical barrier of a dining room table would keep you calm, but you were starting to get antsy at the thought of Travis' hands roaming your body. You weren't going to be the one to initiate it, but wouldn't object to him fireman carrying you into the bedroom.

"What should we do now?" Travis asked, running his hand over his buzzcut head, not knowing you already had a plan.

"I was thinking maybe a little poker." You pulled the deck of cards out of the box, shuffling the cards in your hands.

"Oh, you do know you're about to lose, right?" Travis chuckled, sitting up in his seat, cracking his knuckles. "I can bluff like nobody's business."

"We'll see, I guess." You shrugged, not falling for his macho bravado.

"Wait, you wanna make it interesting? Put some money down." Travis pulled out his wallet, throwing a couple hundreds onto the table.

"Save your money, Mr. Kelce. I had something else in mind." You stood up, pulling your sweater over your head, the silk camisole you had underneath clinging to your skin. You could just see a peek of lace from your bra delicately laying against your breast. Travis gulped, wanting nothing more than to place kisses against your collar bone.

You threw your sweater to the side, sitting back down. "As a show of good faith." Travis chuckled, nervously watching you deal the cards. "Let's do it then."

The first hand resulted in your having to remove your tank top, goosebumps raising on your skin as you sat in your bra and jeans. "Wow, this is gonna be a lot of fun more me, and really gonna suck for you." Travis said in jest, downing the rest of his beer.

"Just shut up and deal the cards." Sure you had lost that first hand, but you had learned a couple of things as well. Travis' had a tell, whenever he had a good hand, he would pinch the bridge of his nose, whenever he had a bad hand, he would scratch his neck. Travis might have been luckier if you weren't obsessed with looking at him, and had memorized his mannerisms over the last couple of months of dating. His tells stood out like a sore thumb.

You won the next couple hands, Travis exposing his tells each time, forcing him to shed a new piece of clothing. About an hour had past and you had him in his boxers, shivering while you were still in your jeans. Travis rubbed up and down his arms, trying to warm himself up. "Why do you keep it so fuckin' cold in here?" He asked, annoyed he had lost so many times.

"What? I run hot, and if I wasn't so much better than you at poker, you wouldn't have this problem right now." You gave him a cocky smirk. "Two pair." You put down your cards, showing that once again, you had one.

"What the actual fuck?!?!" Travis jumped up from the table in disbelief, gesturing wildly. "How are you winning so many games?"

"My first job was waitressing at a poker bar. The owner taught me everything I know." You were beaming, relishing in the feeling that you were going to get what you wanted tonight, and it was oh so easy. "Now strip, loser."

"Do you really want my bare ass on your dining room chair?"

"Wait, I didn't think about that." You giggled, standing up. You sauntered over to Travis, your hands finding his waist, toying with the waistband of his boxers. "What does the winner get?" You whispered, placing a quick kiss on his lips. Travis picked you up in his arms with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. "Dealer's choice."

"You know that's not what that means, right?" Travis put you down, pushing past you toward the bedroom.

"You just had to ruin the moment didn't you?" Travis dropped his boxers to the ground in the doorway, so you got a cute peek of his butt before he rounded the corner.

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#travis kelce #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce imagine #traviskelce #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce suggestive #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl imagine

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cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 9 months

Text

I've fallen in love with Fontaine and especially Neuvillete so I had to write my thoughts about him down. I hope you all enjoy my Neuvillette ramblings

CW: None GN Reader

Romantic/ Cute Neuvillette headcanons

Awkward. Neuvillete was so awkward when he first fell for you. He may be a very old dragon but human emotions still often confuse him so suddenly having this warm feeling in his chest whenever he looked at you confused him on what to do.

At first he thinks he is getting sick, not connecting the fact that this weird feeling in his chest and stomach only appears when either you are around or he is thinking about you.

Though Neuvillette finally makes the connection and understands his feeling, when one day you laugh at something he said and he wishes to preserve that laugh, to have it always replaying in his head. It is the most beautiful sound to him and he is willing to do anything just so he can hear it again. You of course laughed around him before but somehow the moment he understood his feelings your laugh became even more special to him.

Furina teases him that it took long enough to realise his feelings for you, and that if he had taken any longer she’d probably have intervened, so let's all be glad Neuvillete realised it on his own.

Once you two are finally an official couple he is so gentle with you. It's almost as if he is afraid that any touch that may be a bit rougher would hurt you.

Also he is such a gentleman. He holds the doors open for you, he always makes sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, pulls out your chair for you. He is just the perfect man.

Though if you think his awkwardness stopped once you two became an official couple I have to disappoint you. While he sees many couples near the Fountain of Lucine and sees how they interact with each other he is rather clueless himself on what to do in a Relationship.

He may be over 100 years old but he had never been in a relationship with anyone, yet alone a human so you have to be patient and show him what humans in relationships do.

This is how he learned that he loves cuddling and being physically close to you. Neuvillette enjoys the feeling of having you in his arms and holding you close. If you lay your head on his chest when he holds you close you will be able to hear that his heart is beating faster than normal. This happens regardless of how long you have been dating each other. It’s honestly adorable that even after months and years of dating you still have that effect on him.

Now we all know he is the hydro dragon, and we also all know that it rains when he cries, even if he does try to hide his tears around others, the rain speaks for him.

It almost seems as if he is inconsolable when he cries, seeing as it takes a while for the rain to let up. That is until you are there with Neuvillette when he cries. You hug him and hold him close to you, running your hand through his hair and let him cry it out. Sometimes you repeat one of the many rhymes Fontaines kids speak whenever it rains since it has the ability to make him smile.

“Rain, Rain Go away. Come again another day. Lonely dragon it will be okay. So rain, rain go away.” It may sound childish but he believes it when you say it will be okay, because he knows that as long as he has you close to him, he can get through anything.

Ever since you are there for Neuvillette, the skies appear to be even brighter after it rains, the people of Fontaine joking that the hydro dragon must have found someone who is able to brighten his mood, even after the stormiest days. Oh if they knew how right they are.

Neuvillette was unsure at first how the Melusines would react to you, he was basically their father so what if they for some reason didn't like you? Would he have to choose between you and them?

Luckily for him (and you) the Melusines love you, and have basically now adopted you as their second parental figure, so congratulations you are now a parent to a bunch of Melusines!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x you #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette headcanons #genshin neuvillette #genshin x you

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auteurdelabre · 7 months

Text

Something to Fight For (Series) (PART FOUR)

Word Count: 6.8

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warnings: THERE ARE SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER.

A/N: This is part of a series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

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

"You didn't!" Frank laughs as you pull out the gift certificate to Tipsy Bison and slide it across the counter to him.

"We did it," you say with a smug smile. "Finally put those bitches in their place."

Lightning crackles outside as if emphasizing your victory. The storm has been brewing intensely. You and Maria are standing in Frank's kitchen, half standing against the center kitchen island with freshly poured cups of tea the next morning.

Rain is coming down in torrents, lighting and thunder punctuating the normally placid weather.

"You didn't have to do that," Frank assures you, looking at the gift certificate with a tight-lipped smile. He turns the paper over a few times between his fingers.

"Yes we did," Maria says solemnly. You agree. Taking it from them had felt not only satisfying, but right.

Several months ago when you had first learned of trivia at the Tipsy Bison you, Maria, Frank and a very reluctant Bill had attended together. It was supposed to be a fun night out, a chance to distract yourself from your solitude.

Except Myrtle and the Merryatrics decided to make it their personal mission to make Bill and Frank feel as shitty and judged as possible.

Wincing when Frank or Bill touched hands. Making gagging noises when Frank laughed, putting his head on Bill's shoulder. Frank had gone red in the face, trying to ignore them but it was too late, the damage had been done.

It had all come to a head when Bill had passed Myrtle on his way to the commode and she'd called out an ugly slur under her breath, much to the tittering of her equally horrible tablemates.

You'd all heard it. You'd all seen it and both you and Maria held a visibility upset Frank by the hands, shielding him from their mockery and smirks as you left the pub seconds later at his request. An oblivious Bill had joined minutes later completely thrown as to why everyone was outside.

That night you and Maria had been fuming, trying to come up with something harmless but effective. You both come from a world where justice needs to be served. Getting revenge on a bunch of asshole senior citizens was hard when they had so little in their prejudiced lives to live for.

Screaming at them was what you wanted to do, but knew that revenge had to be better than that. Something that would really hurt them. Trivia night; that had been their Achilles heel. The one thing they had in their miserable lives.

And now you've brought back a small piece of that victory, like returning the shield of a slain warrior back to your king.

You reach into the drawer in the island, pulling out a pair of scissors and sliding them across the counter to Frank who smiles at you both with a teary grin.

"Wanna do the honors?"

Frank takes the scissors and with a flourish slices the certificate into several pieces before sweeping them into the garbage bin.

You and Maria give emphatic claps and whoops. It feels good, like the closing of a particularly ugly chapter. After a pause Maria is giggling gently. You and Frank exchange looks of amusement before she finally talks again.

"I also dropped off a particularly nasty note at their table when we left."

You dart a look over at Maria in surprise. "How? You were so hammered by the time we left you could barely stand."

"I wrote the note when I was sober," Maria says tapping her temple. "Had a feeling with we'd win with Joel there."

"Joel was there?" Frank says, his attention diverted. "The handsome one with the broad shoulders and ass that just will not quit?"

Frank says this with a sigh that borders on pornographic. You're thankful that Bill is working in the basement.

"Frank!" Maria says with a good-natured laugh. "You been perving on him when he comes to the house?"

"No just observing." Frank darts a look to you. "Had to see what he looked like after this one was complaining about him being about the worst person alive."

You don't say anything, choosing to focus on the milk that you are now mixing into your tea.

"Seemed like you two were getting along at trivia," Maria offers with a hopeful look in your direction before she looks back to Frank. "Plus she babysat his daughter."

You can feel Frank's incredulous gaze on you.

"So one week he's a nightmare come to life and now he's cool and you're hanging out at his place?"

Frank is now eyeing you with a curling grin.

"Babysitting isn't hanging out," you defend. "He was barely there."

"Did you snoop?" Maria giggles. "I always wondered what Joel's place was like."

"Boring," you answer honestly. "I thought with him being a carpenter there would be so much beautiful woodwork like in here. But nah, just a boring ol' box house."

Something about that house stands out in the back of your mind though and you can't help but ask. You turn to Maria, your cheeks warming from your tea.

"Do you know anything about his ex? There are no photos of her on the walls, not even from when Sarah was a baby."

"Maybe he doesn't wanna be reminded of her?"

"But when Sarah was at the office she mentioned she didn't have photos of her mom and Joel got all weird." You frown at the memory. "I just wondered if Tommy had ever mentioned anything."

"Not to me," Maria says. At this point Frank demands to hear more about her anniversary trip away and you turn your attention to the large windows and the rain that slides down them in rivulets.

//////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

The next morning you sit at your desk, making notes for Miller Construction to work off of when the work phone rings.

"Austin Rescue," you chirp in habit as you circle one of your notes.

"Hey, you got a sec?"

Joel's rumbling voice sounds through the speaker of the phone, startling you.

"Joel? How did you get this number?"

There's a pause where you almost feel Joel rolling his eyes at you before he replies flatly.

"Phonebook."

"Right," you nod tapping your pen anxiously against the desk as you run through a list of reasons why he would be calling. "Is everything okay? Did the -"

"Everything's fine."

You can hear him clear his throat awkwardly.

"Okay."

You let the silence continue, a bit confused as to why he is speaking so stilted.

But then again after the pub maybe he doesn't know where you stand. You're not really sure yourself. It seemed like you two had gotten on pretty well the other night, but maybe you're remembering it incorrectly now that you don't have the hazy glow of victory flooding you.

"You mentioned being free to babysit Sarah again back at the pub." Joel sounds as if he's pacing slowly back and forth when he's talking. "Wondered if that was still a possibility?"

"Uh, sure," you nod glancing at your wristwatch. "When?"

"You free tonight by any chance?"

"Oh, that's soon," you say as if it weren't obvious. You think of what time the next bus will come and if it takes you by Rancher Street.

"I know its last minute and I'm happy to pay you whatever you think is fair."

You smile at his earnestness. "Don't think you can afford me, Miller."

You almost feel like you can hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"Plus an extra fifteen dollar Tipsy Bison gift certificate that you can shove in Myrtle’s face."

You can't help but laugh gently at that. "What time are you thinking?"

"Seven."

You look again to see you have a few hours. "Yeah that works."

"Great."

You go to hang up when you hear the catch in Joel's tone.

"Uh, one thing, can you tell her that sugar monsters aren't real? She's been sleeping in my room all fucking week."

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

Why you didn't bring a jacket today is beyond you. A decision built on a house of cards made of asinine assumptions.

You had assumed you'd be going right home after work instead of traveling over to Rancher Street.

You had assumed the blue sky of the morning would hold out until the evening.

You had assumed that you wouldn't find a hole in the bottom of your boot as you walked up the sidewalk to Joel's house in a downpour.

These assumptions have you dripping wet and shivering when you finally get to the house, knocking feebly. Joel swings the door open, about to say something when he stops. His eyes swim all over your body, no doubt observing your drenched state.

"You're soaked," Joel says after a beat, clearing his throat. "Uh, lemme get you a towel."

You enter the house with a sniff, toeing off your books and glancing around to see it looks cleaner than the last time you were here. None of Sarah’s toys litter the carpet; no bowls of cereal lay on the table. Joel reappears a few minutes later handing you a fresh-smelling towel. You thank him, throwing it over your shoulders.

"Sorry I'm late," you say pushing the damp hair from your eyes. "First bus was full so I had to wait for the next one. Then the fucking sky opened up and well, you know."

You motion to your soaking body and Joel looks strangely upset. A quick scan of him indicates you’re here to babysit Sarah so he can go on a date, probably with the waitress. To you it seems obvious in the jeans he’s picked (dark wash, a bit tighter in the thighs than you’ve seen him wear before) and the light blue button down shirt he wears rolled just below the elbows.

He’s also got fuck-me hair.

Fuck-me hair is a phrase that you and Maria had come up with in college. Invented for frat boys that took hours to artfully arrange their hair to look slightly disheveled, as if they’d just had a good fucking. You don’t know if Joel’s is intentional or not, but he definitely has it.

He watches you silently dab at your clothes with the towel before rubbing it over your hair. You must look a state. You probably have fuck-this-rain hair. You follow him into the kitchen, still sniffling as he goes to the coffee maker.

"Here, drink this," he says sliding a mug of warm coffee in your direction. You take it with thanks, basking in the warmth of the liquid spreading through your body. His coffee is strong, you realize, wincing as the acidic burn hits you belatedly.

“No good?”

“Wish it was a mocha,” you admit. “I like strong coffee to taste like a dessert. Save your judgments because I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a coffee purist.”

Joel about to reply when his phone buzzes and he picks up, moving to the other room. There’s the sound of his low murmur and then you can hear tiny feet making their way down the stairs and you smile. Sarah squeaks when she come around the corner and sees you, running over with a stack of playing cards.

"You’re here!”

“I am,” you laugh.

“Daddy's teaching me Go Fish!"

"I love that game," you enthuse, smiling down at her. She seems to notice your damp apparel and towel slung over your shoulders because she looks you over, her tiny nose wrinkling.

"Why are you all wet? Did you go swimming?"

You laugh. "No. It's just really pouring outside."

Sarah clamors onto the chair next to you, placing the deck of cards on the table between you. You begin a new round when Joel reappears into the kitchen looking embarrassed. The tips of his ears are red, a telltale sign that you noticed last time as well.

"Place is closed 'cause of the storm. Blackouts all over apparently. Rescheduled with her for another-“ he stops himself as if this detail isn’t relevant to you or for his young daughter. “Guess you came all this way for nothing."

You smile down at Sarah, playing with a strand of her coiled hair absently.

"I wouldn't say that."

Sarah smiles up at you before her attention is back on the cards in her hands. You look over to Joel to see him staring at you, only jolting to action when your eyes meet his.

"Lemme give you cab money," he says going to reach for his wallet. You hold a hand up in his direction, waving it away.

"Please," you shake your head. "It's no problem. The bus comes by, like, every ten minutes and I’m already dressed for the weather."

It's more like every thirty but you don't want to make him feel bad. And if you get soaked, oh well, it's not that long a bus ride home. Sarah is watching you and her father with a quirk of her brow.

"Please take the money," Joel insists, his voice bordering on desperate. You can tell he feels awful for all of this.

"How about I just borrow an umbrella?" You ask, motioning to the one at the door. "I'll bring it back next time I see you."

Joel doesn't seem enthused by this compromise but he nods, turning from you and heading to the pantry.

“How about some mac ‘n cheese, Sar-bear?”

“You said we could get pizza,” Sarah scowls over her cards at her father.

“Well there’s a bunch of blackouts from the storm,” Joel reasons. “So I think it’s best if I make us something. Otherwise you might be waiting hours for something to eat. Your choice.”

Joel leans back against the counter, his arms crossed as he waits for her reply. You wonder if he’s serious, if he’ll actually let her choose. Your parents never gave you choices. It was eat or go hungry.

Sarah sighs heavily at this disruption to her night, her disappointment palpable. “Mac n’ cheese.”

Joel smiles and gets to work filling a pot with water in the nearby sink. You decide this is a good time to make a quick exit. You stand only to feel Sarah's tiny hand shoot out to clamp around the waist of your sweater.

"Wait!" Sarah pleads with you, pulling gently. "No! Don't go!"

"Sarah," Joel warns sternly from his place beside the stove. He's placing the pot there, twisting the switch to turn on the heat.

Sarah's eyes are huge in her tiny face. She looks so concerned that you drop to your knees, gripping her tiny hands in yours and looking at her earnestly.

"I’ll come back when your Daddy goes out next time," you promise. "I’ll bring cupcakes and we can decorate ‘em. What do you think of that?"

You can see Sarah's chin starting to wobble, her eyes filling with tears as she nods. She's clearly overtired, rubbing her eyes as she begins to whine.

"But you just got here."

You shoot a desperate look at Joel, expecting him to look frustrated. Instead he looks bemused at you, indicating to the pot bubbling on the stovetop with a tilt of his head.

"Any chance you wanna stay for dinner?"

///

“Thanks for the dry clothes," you tell Joel as you move into the seat opposite him next to Sarah. You're dressed in one of Joel's soft grey t-shirts and basketball shorts that go past your knees. Not exactly your sexiest look, but very welcome considering your other clothes were soaked.

Joel glances up at you as you slide into your chair, smiling at Sarah’s already cheese-covered face.

"You stuff should be outta the dryer in an hour or so," he answers gently, spooning noodles onto Sarah's plate as quickly as she can eat them. You have to admit that after a few spoonfuls you understand her culinary exuberance – it’s really tasty.

You and Joel chat about the unexpected downpour, the sound of thunder in the back of your talks like some grim portend of doom. Joel brings over the salad bowl and steaming garlic bread still wrapped in its foil.

“I noticed you have that big tree out front of where you work,” Joel is saying as he cuts the bread into slices. “Ever worry it’ll fall?”

“Never thought about it,” you answer truthfully. In all honesty you’re so tunnel-vision-ed when it comes to work that anything outside the four walls seems like an ancillary detail to you. Sarah is tugging on your elbow and look over at her.

“Can we decorate blueberry cupcakes next time? Those are my favorite.”

You pause thinking about what’s available at the grocery store. “I can see what they have.”

Joel spoons a second helping of noodles onto your plate without being asked after you inhale the first. You thank him before turning your attention back to Sarah who has been in the middle of telling you both a very long, very serious dream she had involving my Little Pony and killer insects

"And there's was huge a huge uh, uh bee," Sarah stammers excitedly. "And it poked my arm and the pony she uh-uhh, she ran away so fast."

Joel nods, cutting off another piece of bite-sized garlic bread for her. She pops it into her mouth with her fingers, momentarily silencing her tale. Joel takes advantage of this, glancing your way.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"I think so," you answer thoughtfully. "I wasn’t exactly thrilled with having to spend the grant money on the office, but I’m trying to be positive about it. Might be nice to walk on floorboards without threat of a hospital visit.”

Joel smiles at this.

"I gotta ask, is this Kraft dinner?” you ask, looking down at the noodles. “Because it’s really-“

"Not a fucking chance," Joel interrupts clearly affronted as you laugh. “You think I’d feed my kid that junk?”

"Daddy you said f-" Sarah begins, her mouth full.

"Oops," Joel interjects before she can finish, his face serious. "That's a bad word. I shouldn't have said it."

You hide your smile behind your water glass, taking a big gulp and chortling. Joel smirks over at you, his gaze dropping when you dribble your water down your chest.

"Oopsy," Sarah says as she notices.

"Oh for-" you stop yourself from swearing just in time. You grab a napkin and blot at the ever expanding water stain. You give a half chuckle of disbelief at yourself.

"Seems I'm determined to stay wet."

As soon as the words leave your mouth you hear a fork clatter onto a plate. You glance up to see a pink-cheeked Joel going to pass you a fresh napkin but his elbow hits the bowl of salad, toppling it to the floor.

"Fuck," Joel hisses, dropping down to pick up the mess. Sarah watches the top of his head solemnly.

"Daddy you said-"

"I know, sweetheart," Joel grumbles.

You go over, helping him scoop the wilted leaves and assorted vegetables back into the bowl.

"At least you didn't put dressing right in it," you offer with a smile. "That would've been a pain to clean."

Joel is knelt so close to you that you can see the defined hair of his beard when you glance up at him in between scoops. He's staring at you, his mouth slightly parted. You feel insecure at the scrutiny, your brows furrowed.

"What?"

Joel's looks like he wants to reply but then his eyes drop to your mouth and your heartbeat quickens.

"Daddy, can we watch The Little Mermaid?"

The moment is broken by Sarah's shrill cry from above you at the table. You laugh awkwardly as you sit back on your heels.

"Course sweetheart," Joel nods, helping her down from her chair. "You know how to work the machine."

Sarah bounces excitedly from her father, darting into the next room. You can hear the sound of DVD's being shuffled and you look back to Joel whose eyes are on your face again.

"Thanks so much for dinner," you say continuing to pick up the vegetables. "It was delicious, 'side from the salad of course."

Joel breaks into an easy grin at this, the boyish dimple clear in his cheek. You find you can’t look at him too long or you start to feel warm. And you shouldn’t feel warm about Joel fucking Miller for a lot of reasons; most importantly you’re only here because he was going on a date with a cute waitress.

You hear the gentle buzz of the drier finishing its cycle and you stand quickly.

“I better grab those and head out,” you reason glancing at the clock on the wall. “Got a lot to finish before you guys come this week.”

///////

Its hours later in your suite with rain still pelting against your windows. The lightning is sharp and the thunder rattles your window frame when it arrives. The fireplace is on, making your studio glow peacefully.

"C'mon," James pants from underneath you, his hips jerking up. He gives your ass a light slap. "C'mon sweetheart. Ride this cock hard."

James came to go over any last minute additions for construction tomorrow. When he saw how stressed you were he'd suggested a way to take your mind off things.

Now you're riding him in your bed, his hands on your tits as he thrusts up into you. You can't help but feel underwhelmed. James is so fast, so quick, which doesn't lead to a very pleasurable experience.

James also likes to hear himself talk, which would be nice if it wasn't so cock-centered. ("Come on this cock baby" "gonna stuff you full of this cock" and his personal favorite "take my cock").

It takes a lot of concentration, wriggling and clit stimulation from your covert hand to get you to come and when you do it's barely a whimper. James doesn't care - he follows soon after, his face reddening as he chokes out how good you feel. You both collapse next to each other on your narrow mattress.

"Maybe I should stay the night," James murmurs against the top of your head as he circles you in his arms. "Maybe a little morning delight before work?"

Sex with Paul was nice if not a little boring. Sex with James is intense if not unsatisfying. You feel like a sexual Goldilocks, forever trying to fight the right porridge. And right now all you want to do is sleep.

"I'm pretty exhausted," you say faking a yawn. "Think I need a good night’s sleep and I can see ya tomorrow.”

He hides his disappointment behind a shrug before pulling back from you.

You tell yourself that sexual compatibility isn't always perfect the first time around. That it takes communication and time to perfect. This is what you remind yourself as James excuses himself to the bathroom to wash up.

He’s almost there when something catches his eyes and your gaze follows his over to your sofa. You can see Joel’s clothes there, crumpled. You intend on washing and bringing them back the next time you babysit.

“Whose are these?”

James’ tone is light, but you can sense the unspoken tension.

“Joel’s,” you answer, pulling the sheet of the bed over your chest. “I was babysitting earlier and got caught in a downpour.”

“You could’ve called me,” James says tightly. “I’d have driven you.”

“It’s fine,” you say waving away his concern. You pull on a robe, stretching and padding over to the sofa to stand next to him. “I’m gonna wash ‘em and give them back next time I babysit.”

“You’re sitting for him again?” James is staring at you with a look you don’t enjoy. It’s suspicious. “Thought it was a one-off. S’what you said it was when we chatted.”

“Yeah but his daughter is actually amazing and he’s not so bad once you get past the grumpy exterior.” You shrug, giving him a peck on his cheek. James seems soothed by this gesture and nods before heading into the bathroom.

You look down at the clothes when the door closes, your forefinger trailing over the shirt. It’s soft and warmed from the fire. Without thinking you raise the shirt to your nose and inhale. It smells like Joel’s laundry detergent.

You start when there's a knock at you suites door, dropping the shirt back onto the sofa like you’ve been caught doing something illegal. You check your watch to confirm that yeah, it's late, almost eleven, and frown.

It's not Maria, she'd just come through the inside entrance. You pad over to an increasingly rapid knock and pull open the door, shocked at the figure standing there waiting.

"Joel?"

He's completely soaked from the rain, droplets slipping down the end of his nose. Thunder booms behind him as he looks at you from under the brim of his cap. His eyes trail quickly over your robe before jumping back to your face.

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

"Come in," you urge, closing the door after him and pulling the nearby towel from the kitchen hook.

His dark eyes scan the room as he enters and you wonder what he sees in your modest studio. You know for a fact the bed is unnaturally disheveled and you pray he doesn't notice his clothes in a pile on the sofa.

"Won't stay long," he finally says taking the towel and wiping his face. "I didn’t have your cell. I'm here to make sure about that tree by your building. When's the last time an arborist had been out to see it?"

"I couldn't say," you shrug before calling over your shoulder to James.

James exits the bathroom at your call, rubbing at his nose. He sees Joel and comes striding over.

"Everything okay, bud?'

Bud? You frown over at James at this. You’ve never heard him use this term before. Joel is suddenly tense, his eyes darkening as he scans James’ face.

"I couldn't remember the last time the arborist was out to give updates on that big oak outside the building," you explain to James. "Do you?'

"Years probably," James shrugs. "Why?"

"Because, bud," Joel expels this word as if it disgusts him. "When I saw it during the walk through I made a note that it looked pretty shaky. Was gonna call a guy I know to give an idea on safety but he charges a bundle and I wanted to make sure you hadn't already had a recent visit. Then this rainstorm started and hasn't let up and now the wind so I thought I'd come and check before its too late."

“Door to door service,” James observes with a flat look.

“Didn’t have her number,” Joel explains motioning to you and looking irritated at having to explain himself to James.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," James assures from behind you. "That tree has been there for decades of storms just like this one."

"I had no idea you had a background in horticulture," Joel says in a voice that verges on challenging.

James steps forward, his shoulder brushing yours.

"Well if your friend charges a bundle to tell people to unnecessarily uproot old trees I guess I went into the wrong career," James laughs obnoxiously.

Your eyes ping pong in between the men, confused as to where all of this animosity is coming from.

"Is it really necessary if it's that expensive?" You ask Joel, your mind going back to her already feeble budget.

Joel's eyes drift back over to you and you’re thankful to see that they lose some of their chill. "I think ---"

"It's not," James answers for Joel. His arm slips around your waist. "We'll see you tomorrow then, Joel? Unless there's something else?"

Joel looks thunderous. And you're strangely embarrassed for him. You move back from James, out of his touch.

"Your choice."

Then he's gone, handing you back the towel and yanking the door open. You watch his broad shouldered frame move out the door and into the pouring night.

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

When you see the flooding in the morning of the construction job, you assume that you're imagining things.

It's not until you wade in feeling the damp soak into your shoes that reality sets in.

Water is everywhere. The storm knocked over the tree Joel warned you about. It shattered the window, cracking the widow frame. Glass is all over the buckling floor planks.

It also brought in the rain.

Waterlogged files swollen with rot. Wood flooring planks warped and buckled. It's worse than you thought.

James enters quickly after you looking even more devastated than you. He rushes to his desk, pulling open the locked drawer with trembling fingers.

"The blueprints," he tells you as he begins to dig in the drawer. "I never made backup copies."

"He told us," you say through burning eyes. "Joel told us about the tree and we just -"

"How was I supposed to know a tree that hasn't given us any issues in the last ten years was gonna crash through the window? Huh?" James suddenly sobers when he sees your wet eyes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

You want to be mad at James, but seeing how sorrowful he is makes you realize that this is just an awful mistake that no one, save for an overpriced arborist, could have accurately predicted.

"There's no point in fighting," you say shaking your head. "What's done is done."

By the time Joel and Tommy arrive minutes later you're still trying to locate all the items that were once on your desk and are now in the shallow puddles and debris.

Tommy offers a low whistle when he walks in, his eyes large. Joel follows suit, offering a soft "fuck" when he sees the damage.

You’re still searching amongst the water, coming upon the trinkets you had in your desk, the jelly bean bowl, all of it is submerged in a thin layer of water and debris. The framed photos on your desk, the ones of Pongo and your parents are warped and impossible to decipher. You only know it's them by the frames that hold them and this is what breaks you.

"No," you utter in a low moan when you see them. "No."

The tears have sprung up, ones you keep hidden away, locked in your soul. They've escaped, slipped past your heart's jailer and are spilling brutally down your cheeks.

James comes loping over, his eyes wide and nervous.

"Are you okay?" James broaches gently placing a palm on your shoulder. "Can I do anything?"

The tears are warm and wet and despite how overwhelmed you're feeling, they still take you by surprise. James brings you into his arms, cradling you gently. You wipe at your face angrily with the back of your shirt sleeve, embarrassed.

"Do you want me to take you home?" James asks you but you pull back from him shaking your head.

You feel embarrassed at being coddled like that and you feel uncomfortable in James' arms.

You turn to see Joel and Tommy talking, Joel is looking irritatedly between you and James, frustrated at you for not listening to him last night about the tree. You've made he and Tommy's job here so much more work, no wonder he’s resentful.

"It was caught quickly, you'll barely have to dip into your discretionary spending," Tommy tries to assure you. "The stuff that's damaged was the stuff we were replacing anyway."

Not everything.

Your chin tremors, the hot tears sliding down your cheeks and again brushed away by the back of your wrist.

"Could've been way worse," Joel mutters more to himself than anything. "Don't have to cry about it."

The tone in the room immediately shifts at this last muttered comment. Tommy is straightening and shooting his brother a wild-eyed look. James is standing next to you, moving back when you shake his hand from your shoulder.

Your anger works through your body like lightning. The tears come faster now, but now they're full of spite and fury.

"I don't have to cry about it?" you seethe, marching up to Joel and holding up the ruined photographs. "These were my history, Miller. My only connection to the part of my childhood that wasn't fucking terrible!"

Joel is quietly staring at you, watching as you look at him with a look of mingled, anger and disdain.

"But hey I guess I could just walk around miserable like you," you spit furiously. "How's that working out for your social life?"

You realize it's a stupid thing to say when only days ago you saw a waitress slip him her number, yet Joel still acts insulted, his jaw clenching.

"Hey now," Tommy intercedes from across the room. You may be his girlfriend's best friend but Joel is his big brother.

Joel tilts slightly forward and looks like he's going to say something low and quiet and just for you to hear. His face inches closer, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheeks.

You stare at his mouth, waiting to see what he could possibly say after such an insensitive comment but then he's turned away and gone back to pulling back the debris by James' desk. You watch him go, wincing.

"We can take care of the rest of this," Tommy assures you with a smile that doesn't quite reach his dark eyes. "If you want, I mean."

You know he's trying so hard not to push your buttons. He's trying to give you everything Joel can't at the moment; kindness and civility. You relent because he's kind and because Maria loves him.

"Sure."

James is determined to drive you home and you're too worn down to say no. The flood, Joel's attitude, the weather; All three have conspired to leave you battered today.

James excuses himself to use the bathroom before you leave. You stand in the center of the waterlogged space and shake your head. All your hopes, your dreams, gone. Vanished. There won't be a dime left over for kennels now. And the photos you've carried with you from place to place? The good memories? Gone.

Joel and Tommy have started to move everything salvageable from from the main area of the office back to the storage room which thankfully was barely affected thanks to it being built a few steps up. Small miracles.

Tarps cover the furniture and the electronics have been stored in large tubs to take to the repair shop.

After coming out of the washroom with a spring in his step a few minutes later, James is much more pleasant than you are.

He circles you waist with his arm, calling out his thanks to Tommy before he leads you out the door away from the cold gaze of Joel Miller.

/////

"That asshole! I don't care if he's Tommy's brother I'm gonna kick his ass!"

Maria is pacing around your suite, her dark hair flicking behind her as you summarize what's happened that day at work and the cruelty of Joel's statement. James dropped you off hours ago trying to insist he stay but you were eager to be left alone with your thoughts.

Not even an hour had passed before you called Maria in tears.

She was to you in thirty, insisting that her work could wait. She hugged you when you showed her the photo frames, listened to what happened and jumped from the sofa the second Joel’s comment of ‘don’t have to cry about it’ was spoken aloud as if she’d been electrocuted.

“He’s not worth it,” you insist, your eyes on your interlaced fingers over your knee. “I just never want to see him again.”

“You won’t have to,” Maria insists. “I’ll tell Tommy to get one of the other guys to help him. You don’t need that grumpy bastard hanging around making you feel shitty.”

This is why you and Maria had been friends for so long, this instant call to action if the other is in pain. You would do the exact same for Maria (and have). Maria is already pulling out her cell phone and while you’d love the satisfaction of hearing Joel being removed from your project, you also can’t jeopardize things with Maria and Tommy. It’s going too good, the two of them too perfect for that.

“Just take a beat,” you tell her softly, motioning for her to come join you back on the sofa.

"I thought you two were getting along," Maria sighs disappointed. "I saw you two at the Bison and you were babysitting Sarah."

"I dunno," you shrug. "I guess he was really pissed off about the arborist thing."

"Still," Maria shakes her head disappointed. "I just expected better from him."

You suppose you had as well which is why this has you especially upset. You’d thought you and Joel were working towards a friendship or something. The way you got along so well at dinner? Had you been imagining it?

“Oh shit I forgot,” Maria says suddenly slapping her thigh and jumping up. “I brought you kolaches. Be right back.”

She makes her way through the door connecting your places, closing it behind her in habit. You hear her jogging up the stairs to her kitchen. You smile at her thoughtfulness, idly wondering if she got them from that European bakery near her office.

You pause when you hear something over the light rain outside. It sounds like scratching. A panic goes through you at the sound. What the fuck is that? Rats trying to hide from the storm? For a fleeting moment you wish you had a cat.

Or worse, what if it’s a burglar trying to break in? There were break ins a few blocks away, Bill had told you recently. You think of calling Maria back, but she won’t hear you with the door closed. You rise slowly from the sofa, your eyes going to the butcher knife in the kitchen. Given your culinary prowess it’s mostly there for decoration, but today you’re thankful for it.

You strain your ears, listening to the sound of shuffling. Your heartbeat is in your ears as you raise the knife with one hand and use the other to fling the door open. A tall figure is hunched over your welcome mat, but you recognize the curls right away.

"Joel? What the fuck?"

You glance down to see Joel straighten, his dark eyes widening in surprise as he sees you and the butcher knife. He shoves his arm behind his back, speaking in a voice laced with irritation.

"I didn't think you'd be home."

"That's not a reassuring reason to be skulking around my place," you insist with narrowed eyes. You lower the knife slowly to your side, taking him in. He won’t look you in the face and his hand is still behind his back.

You feel your mouth curving into a scowl at the sight of him. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, the neck drenched with sweat. You hate that he’s been working at your office all morning. You hate that he’s come into your life at all.

“Surprised I answered the door?” you snipe. “Gotta admit I’ve been so busy unnecessarily crying I don't know how I was able to see in front of me enough to walk."

“Thought you’d be with your boyfriend,” Joel mutters, his eyes still not meeting yours.

“Nope, just here,” you answer flatly. You hear crinkling coming from behind his back and you are about to question it when you hear another voice from behind you.

“Joel?”

Maria has come back from upstairs and is now looking at the both of you in confusion. She looks at you and the knife and then back at Joel.

You hear Joel mutter something that sounds an awful lot like "Christ on a bike" under his breath. You shoot a confused look at Maria before turning back to face an increasingly jittery Joel.

"I just wanted to-" Joel looks uncomfortable having an audience, but finally he brings his arm out from behind his back and thrusts a bouquet of cornflowers, fall asters and petunias at you. The cellophane crinkles against your arm as you hold the colorful arrangement in shock, your other hand still holding the knife loosely.

"Was wrong, what I said before," Joel tells your shoulder. "Was havin' a bad day and you didn't deserve it. Won't happen again. Sorry."

He doesn't even give you a chance to reply. He just turns, his broad-shouldered frame moving away from the house with the speed of a seasoned athlete. You watch him throw himself into his truck, speeding away before you finally step back into your home and close the door, the flowers still clutched to your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask a very amused Maria. She goes to your cupboard to bring down a vase before giggling.

"That was the cutest thing I've ever seen."

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