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sports-on-sundays · 3 months

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and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."

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milfsloverblog · 10 months

Text

Friday Nights (NSFW)

Miranda Hilmarson x fem!reader

A/N: Nobody requested this fic, I just woke up this morning with the visceral need to write it. And so I did. Enjoy this smutty domestic fluff <3

AO3 link in title

Miranda loved the routine that had set itself up between the two of you on Friday nights.

She’d come home around 5 pm, 6 if Robin held her back a little longer, and you’d be in the kitchen busying yourself with making dinner.

“It smells absolutely delicious in here.” Miranda wrapped her arms around your body from behind, placing a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. “Sorry I’m late, babe. Robin’s been stressing the whole station with this new case.”

“You’re not late, you’re just in time.” You smiled and pecked her lips. “Have a quick shower, I’ll set the table and get everything ready.”

“Mhm.” Miranda agreed and reluctantly let go of you to walk to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but steal a glimpse as she walked away, how you loved the way she looked in her uniform. You bit your lip and shook the dirty thoughts away.

“You look good in that apron,” Miranda said when she walked out of the bathroom a moment later. She crossed the kitchen and pulled you in for a soft kiss. “Let me take it off of you later?” She purred against your lips, earning herself a gentle swat on the arm.

“Sit down.” You said, nodding towards the table where dinner was waiting.

“Yes, ma’am.” Miranda grinned and settled at her spot at the table.

She watched as you moved around the kitchen, her eyes never leaving your back. You heard her breath hitch when you opened the fridge and bent down to grab a bottle of white wine, no doubt that her gaze had fallen on your ass.

“How was work?” You asked, pouring two glasses before settling down in front of your lover.

“You know I don’t like bringing work at home, even less over dinner. But if you really want to know-“ The blonde started.

A woman, a magician’s assistant, had been found dead in her hotel room, tied to a chair and with a bullet in her skull. She was still wearing her sequinned costume when they found her, a deck of cards had been scattered on the floor around the chair and the ace of hearts had been shoved inside her mouth.

Robin and Miranda had been working on the case for a few weeks but didn’t seem to make much progress which made Detective Griffin easily irritable. More than she usually was.

You didn’t particularly enjoy hearing about the gory details of Miranda’s work, but you knew she needed to get it off her chest from time to time, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

Your lover’s shoulders looked visibly more relaxed when she finished telling you about her day. She had finally told Robin to stop texting her about work when she was at home.

“When I’m home, I’m with you. Not with Robin, not with any work matter.” Miranda had told you when her phone had buzzed for the third time in less than fifteen minutes the previous Friday.

“Have you picked a movie for tonight?” Miranda snapped you out of your thoughts, taking a mouthful of salad and happily munching on it.

“Mm? Oh, yes, yes I have.” You gave a nod and placed your cutlery down on your plate before pushing it away. “Since you picked Imagine Me & You last time, I thought we could watch Carol tonight?”

“Yeah, sure!” Miranda said excitedly and you wondered how long it’d take until you’d both run out of sapphic movies to watch.

When she was done eating, Miranda squeezed your hand and suggested you go change into your pyjamas while she cleared the table, which you happily agreed to. Filling the dishwasher was one of your least favourite thing to do, emptying it was a very close second.

“Everything’s ready,” Miranda called from where she was sitting on the couch. “Just need you laying in my arms.”

You chuckled softly and finished buttoning your silk pyjamas before joining your girlfriend in the living room. You made yourself comfortable, lying between Miranda’s legs with your back pressed to her chest.

You pressed play on the movie and Miranda wrapped her arms around you, holding you close against her body.

You’d seen the movie half a dozen times already, but it was Miranda’s first time and you loved listening to her commentary.

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love at first sight?” She whispered in your ear when Therese and Carol locked eyes.

“What? Are you saying you didn’t fall in love with me the very second we looked at each other?” You tutted, feigning to be offended.

“I spilled my frappuccino on your shirt at Starbucks, falling in love was the last thing I had in mind, not when the look you gave me scared me shitless.” Miranda laughed and you joined her, loving the way you could feel her chest moving up and down as she giggled behind you.

“Fair enough,” you admitted. “Fair enough.”

The two of you fell quiet again, except for Miranda’s occasional comment on how good Cate Blanchett looked, and her excited shriek when Sarah Paulson appeared on your screen.

You absentmindedly brushed your fingers on the expanse of Miranda’s leg, unaware of the fire it ignited in your lover’s belly. Miranda knew there was no ulterior motive to your fingertips drawing patterns on her skin but, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the movie, all she could think about were the shivers your touch sent down her spine.

Your eyes were locked on the tv screen, knowing Carol and Therese would soon share their first kiss, when you suddenly felt Miranda’s hand moving down your front only to stop on the elastic band of your trousers.

You looked from the corner of your eye as your girlfriend’s slender fingers played with the drawstring until she gave it a gentle tug, silently requesting permission.

“Yes.” You breathed out, laying your head back on Miranda’s shoulder.

Miranda didn’t waste any more time, immediately slipping her hand inside your pants between silk fabric and silkier skin. She skillfully parted your lower lips and sank two fingers inside you with no preamble, relishing in the gasp it pulled from your lips.

“Mira-“ You whined when she dragged her fingers out of you only the push them back inside deeper, making you clench around her knuckles.

“I know, babe.” She purred in your ear as she started pumping her fingers in and out of you, the soft, slick sounds of the movement echoing in your living room and drowning out the distant movie dialogue.

Pressed into Miranda’s front, you blushed a deep red as your skin grew hot. You easily opened up for your lover, your hips rocking onto her hand to invite her always deeper. Miranda felt like she could do this forever, holding you close as you fell apart in her arms.

Suddenly she shifted you, keeping her fingers buried inside you as she helped you lie down until she was on top of you. She leaned forward, smiling at how your lips immediately parted, and flicked her tongue over them. With her free hand, she lifted your silk shirt, her mouth watering at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re beautiful.” She whispered, keeping her eyes on you as she lowered herself to take one of your nipples in her mouth. She sucked for a moment before gently sinking her teeth in it and soothing the sting with her tongue, grinning when your hand flew into her hair to tug at it.

Miranda trailed down your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your chest and the skin of your stomach. Her free hand swiftly removed your trousers before she settled between your spread thighs and lightly blew on your clit, making your thighs shudder on either side of her head.

You nearly saw stars when Miranda finally wrapped her lips around your clit and sucked harshly, her fingers curling deep inside you. She licked and sucked, teasing the nub with the tip of her tongue and relishing in the way you struggled to keep your legs open around her head.

When she felt you clench dangerously around her fingers, Miranda doubled her efforts, picking up the pace and sucking hard at your clit, determined to bring you to an earth-shattering release.

It only took a few more pumps for the coil behind your navel to snap, Miranda’s name coming out of your lips again and again as you pushed her face deeper into your cunt, refusing to let go of her short blonde hair.

“I love you.” Miranda sighed happily as she pulled her fingers out and kissed your clit.

She sat up, stretched her back, and pecked your lips before getting on her feet and disappearing into the bathroom, coming out a few seconds later with a wet cloth.

“You simply couldn’t resist, mm?” You smiled lazily, looking down as Miranda cleaned you up.

“Who could blame me?” Miranda chuckled softly, dropping the cloth on the coffee table and helping you put your trousers back on.

You settled back down into your original position between your lover’s legs and rewound the movie up until Therese and Carol’s first kiss. You smirked as you thought of the upcoming sex scene, knowing Miranda wouldn’t get to the end of the movie without moaning your name out and coming on your tongue.

Miranda loved the routine that had set itself up between the two of you on Friday nights. And so did you.

————————————————————————

tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @pro-weems-places @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou

#gwendoline christie #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #Miranda Hilmarson x y/n #top of the lake #no beta we die like miranda #what can I say #yes they’re watching Carol #and they’ve watched Imagine Me & You #bc I’m something of a sapphic stereotype as well #larissa weems x reader

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cupidsdolll · 4 months

Text

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; best friend!harry x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; time apart helps both Harry and Y/N learn more about themselves and their feelings.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3.1k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; slight angst? i’m pretty sure that’s it!

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; hi hello! here’s the long awaited part two! part one is linked here for anyone who hasn’t read it yet! i hope you all like it <3

- - - -

Heartbreak is always one of the worst pains, but Harry thinks the absence of someone that’s been in your life for as long as you can remember hurts worse. It’s been a week since Y/N said she needed space after confessing her feelings for him and he’s just miserable. He’s not as happy as he normally is, and it seems as if everything reminds him of her. Even the things his girlfriend Liv does reminds him of his best friend, he’s found himself comparing the two.

He doesn’t mean any harm honestly, just sometimes Liv will do something and his mind will go back to how Y/N would do the same thing just differently. For instance, Liv is on her way to bring him some tea in hope it’ll cheer him up at least just a little bit, Harry’s excited to try her tea. It’s one of his favorite drinks if he’s being honest. A knock comes from the door and he tells his roommate that he’ll get it, he’s already standing up and making his way to the door. When he opens it, Liv is standing in front of him sporting a bright smile and happiness.

“Hi, hon. I brought you that tea I was talking about!” She says and he smiles back, a little hesitant but excited nonetheless.

“Thanks, babe. Come on in, I hope you don’t mind that my roommate’s here.” He says and she shakes her head, his mate’s never been a problem with Liz, the one thing he notices is different from Y/N. Liz is more natural hanging around in the boys’ dorm whereas Y/N tended to not want to come over. Something about the smell and how loud the halls are, he doesn’t blame her most of the time though. Liz walks over and makes herself comfortable on the arm rest of the chair Harry was sitting at before, ushering him over excitedly. He chuckles as he makes his way over, reminding him of how Y/N would act whenever she’s excited to show him something.

He sits down and she hands the cup to him, it's warm but not too hot, he’s assuming the walk here helped cool it down. He takes a hesitant sip, he doesn’t want to take too big of a sip just in case he doesn’t like it. It’s good, sweet but still has that leafy taste and it flows nicely. It’s not overwhelming with any of the tastes and it’s just.. good. He smiles as he stares at the cup, his mind wandering back to Y/N. He always enjoyed her tea, she always managed to create the perfect balance and temperature. Y/N makes the perfect tea, will always be better than anyone’s, better than Liz’s.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Y/N right now though, so he blinks twice to clear his head and turns to his girlfriend.

“It’s good, thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me, I know you didn’t have to.” He says and she just laughs.

“I know, I wanted to, H. It’s no big deal really.” She says. He feels bad, ever since he and Y/N stopped talking as much, he’s found himself comparing the way Liz cooks and acts to Y/N.

Y/N likes to wear more cozy clothes unless it’s actually going out, where she feels like she needs to impress someone whereas Liz tends to dress up all the time. She’s always dressed in nice looking clothes and adorned in jewelry and smells nice. He likes that Y/N always felt comfortable with him and didn’t feel the need to impress him, not that he doesn’t like that Liz puts forth all this effort into her looks because he does. Whenever he and Liz go to watch a movie, she normally wants to watch something with romance but occasionally she’ll tell Harry to turn on whatever he wants if she’s coming over for a nap.

Y/N usually put on a comedy movie and sometimes they ended up being a rom-com but they always alternate days so Harry can feel included. He misses that, he misses Y/N. He’s not sure if they’ll ever talk again, he thinks her dramatics are rubbing off on him. He just hates the absence of her, he never realized just how happy she made him feel. She made him feel warm and sometimes he’s got those silly butterflies whenever he looks at her, but he just assumed that was normal for how close of a friendship they had. He never realized just how much time they spent together, how special she was and how different from his other love interests he’s had.

But he’s never considered Y/N as a love interest, she’s always just been his best friend. Sure enough, he did like to flirt with her a little bit whenever he was drunk but that was only because he liked seeing her all flustered. He thought it was cute and it was hard for him to get her like that. Yeah, he loved her but in the same way friends love each other, it’s normal for them to say it before leaving or just because. They’ve always been just friends, the best of friends and that’s how they were supposed to be.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, a soft touch to bring him out of his mind, he’s been doing that almost daily.

“You’re thinking about her again, Haz. Can’t we just hang out without her taking your attention? This is good, it allows you to be your own person now.” Liz says sweetly, genuinely. She tries to be supportive, she really does but there’s just so long you can watch your boyfriend be heartbroken over a girl, especially one he never dated. They haven’t even been dating long, but they had only been dating for a couple of days before Harry told her she had to meet his best friend. Ever since Y/N shut the door on them and he had ushered her back so he could try to talk to his best friend and figure everything out with tears beginning to fill his eyes, it’s just been a repeat of the same days over and over again.

- - - -

When Harry walks the halls, he can’t help but to hope that he’ll be able to see Y/N on her way to class. He admits that it’s weird not walking her to class and being around her, it was their norm for quite a while. A part of him hopes that when he sees her that she’s just as miserable as him but he feels bad about that, he wants her to be happy. He wants to see that she’s doing well and that she’s happy. He always loved to see her happy, it just looked so good on her. So when he sees her sporting a bright smile as she talks with two people he hasn’t seen before, it makes his heart skip a beat and hurt a little at the same time. He’s happy that she’s doing well, he really is, it just hurts that he’s not the cause of the bright smile on her face.

He hopes that she’ll look over here so he can wave, just a small acknowledgment would hold him over he thinks. The halls are crowded and loud, he can’t help but to sigh as he accidentally bumps into someone. She always had this magnetic aura to her, always had his gaze being pulled to her. Ever since she called for a break, she’s all he’s ever been able to think about, the main thing he looks at and for. He wants even the smallest attention from her, it helps the pain in his heart.

He watches as her head turns just the slightest and their eyes meet, a warm feeling enveloping Harry as he smiles and waves at her. She just gives him the same smile she’s always given him, warm, friendly and loving, and waves back. The pain goes away leaving a happy feeling in his chest, he doesn’t feel bad about bumping into students in the hall. He watches as she walks away before making his way to his own class.

- - - -

Y/N doesn’t miss Harry as much as she thought she would. That’s a lie, she misses him terribly but after a couple of days moping and several streams of tears shed, she thinks she’s doing okay. He stays on her mind but she’s able to tune those memories out by doing the activities she likes. She joined some book club on campus and made a couple of friends that enjoy some of the same stuff she does, which is such a relief. While Harry listened and tried his best to participate in things she enjoyed but some stuff he just never got into the way she did.

The past week she’s been attending the book club and talking about the books they’re reading, she’s cut back on some of the stuff she used to do. She dropped out of two of her classes that she did just for fun and stopped volunteering every week to give herself more time to relax. She walks with them to class when she can, and they talk on the phone sometimes. She’s happy for the most part, happier than she thought she would be.

Don’t get her wrong, she still gets upset over the fact that Harry isn’t around all of the time, it’s usually late at night or early in the morning when she misses him the most. She misses him when his favorite song plays and when she sees him in the hallway. She feels bad then, seeing him all heartbroken and moping around. She’s never seen him so down, and she wishes she never said anything to begin with in those moments. She hates the fact that he’s heartbroken over her.

She’s happy for the break, as much time as the two spent together, the break allows her a chance to know who she is outside of Harry. She’s found ways to cope with this ache for him, playing songs he’s never heard before distracts her from thinking of him. Finding new books to read, new shows to watch. Not letting her look at him for too long whenever they pass each other in the halls, hide his clothes (minus the one hoodie she sleeps

in, she can’t bear to part with it because after all it’s not a complete end to the friendship.

She spends a little (a lot) of time telling herself that just being friends is okay, her feelings will go away and they’ll go back to being best friends. She knows they won’t go back to being where they were before she confessed, but hopefully it’ll be somewhat the same as before. She hopes with everything in her that she’ll be able to get over her feelings for him in a reasonable time, and doesn't want to drag this out any longer than what’s needed. She’ll remind herself when she starts thinking of him randomly, when she sees a picture of them in her phone. They always should’ve been best friends, nothing more and nothing less. That’s how the universe wanted them to be.

Everything was fine the way they were, now she has to get over her feelings for him in order to get him back. She sees him everywhere it seems, hard to avoid him even though she doesn’t necessarily want to, in the halls at school or passing by on the sidewalks. She’s nice to him, doesn’t want to make him feel even more upset. She can feel his eyes on her every time, a tingling feeling on the back of her neck before she turns around to face him.

She’s met with the same hurt expression, his eyes full of emotion and telling her how much he misses her. He waves subtly as if he doesn’t think she’ll see it, won’t want to see it but of course she does. She always sees it, how could she not see it when anytime they’re in proximity of each other gems all she’s able to look at. Of course she waves, even gives him a warm smile, one that has and always will be reserved just for him. She still wants to be friendly with him, to keep that door open for the two of them and their friendship.

They don’t really talk other than saying hi as they pass one another in the halls, or if they happen to need to copy notes. They got partnered once after everything, a sense of awkwardness filled the air between them and Y/N hated it. Hated that she felt like she didn’t know what to talk about, didn’t know what limits were with this weird boundary set by her. She feels like she should know, she should’ve known since she was the one who drew the line.

Their conversations were awkward and pointed, pain lingering in their voices as they mentally decided not to talk about anything personal. It’s better that way honestly, it keeps her from breaking and allowing him back when she knows she’s not ready. The wall built between them shows her just how much he’s hurting, shows her how much she hurt him. She never meant to hurt him, she knew breaking it off would cause a toll on him. She never thought it would be as bad as it is, never expected to see the bags forming under his eyes.

She never expected him to be so…torn up about it, to cave in on himself and go quiet. She can feel his eyes on her all of the time, and can see whenever he fights back tears. She watches as Liz tries to cheer him up, hugs him and runs her fingers through his hair. She watches as Liz brings him cups of whatever drink is in them, watches as he thanks her with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. She thought that maybe he’d continue partying like he always did, ignore her or something of the sort. He should be giving all of his attention to Liz, not moping on about losing her. His mind just always seems to be elsewhere, his gaze is always sad and unfocused.

- - - -

Two months later the two are doing just fine on their own. Y/N found out from a classmate that’s on Harry’s soccer team that Harry had broken up with Liz about a month ago. They wouldn’t say why they broke up and Y/N wasn’t going to be the one to ask. The two of them have gotten more friendly with one another, there’s no awkwardness whenever they’re paired up and they’ll sometimes sit together at lunch. Y/N thinks she’s able to be his friend again, and doesn't get the intense butterflies in her stomach whenever she looks at him.

She doesn’t want to kiss him as much as she used to, although the urge still comes up whenever she thinks he’s being the cutest boy ever. She decides to bring it up as they sit together during lunch.

“Hey, Harry?” She asks and he hums in response to her.

“I think I’m ready to be your friend again.” She asks and watches as his face lights up. His eyes brighten and a huge smile appears on his face.

“Really?” His voice is full of excitement and she smiles as she nods.

“Yeah, I think so.” He immediately wraps her in a hug and she melts into it.

“I missed you, honey.” He says and she smiles as she responds.

“I missed you too, Haz.” He squeezes her tighter, as if he wants to remember the feeling of her body pressed against his.

“Those three months without you were absolutely horrible. I want to apologize again for leading you on unintentionally, but these three months have shown me something.” He says as he pulls away.

She stares at him confused, he’s already apologized numerous times so she’s not sure what else needs to be said.

“What’s that?” She asks and he smiles.

“I can’t imagine a life without you by my side. I missed you so much and hated not being able to just come over and talk to you. I like you. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner and I know it’s a terrible time to say it now that you’re back in my life. It’s perfectly okay if you don’t feel the same way anymore, but if you do I’d love to ask you out and take you out properly.” He says and she almost wants to scream.

She spent so much time getting over him and now he just wants to spring his feelings on her now? She thinks the whole situation is absolutely absurd and the two of them have terrible timing of their feelings. She sighs tiredly as she stares at him.

“When did you figure this out, you dummy?” She asks and he shakes his head, as if he’s in disbelief.

“Uh like a month and a half ago, I think? I’m not quite sure when exactly it happened. All I know I spent my whole relationship with Liz comparing her to you and I missed you entirely too much to ever risk losing you again. The whole like high school years up until three months ago, we acted like a couple unknowingly. I know we just labeled it best friends, but normal best friends don’t act like we did. I’m sorry once again,” Harry says as he watches her in hopes he’ll be able to read her.

She just smiles softly at him, her eyes so full of emotions that it’s hard to read which ones are in them.

“You better be glad my feelings for you didn’t go away completely. Yes you can take me out, Harry. It’s okay, I’ve missed you too.” She says and immediately his hands make his way to her face and he slowly begins to move closer. He wants to allow her time to say no, to change her mind but it never comes and he smiles briefly before their lips meet in a soft tender kiss. A kiss so full of love and warmth, making up for all the years missed and tears she cried unknowingly. It fills both of them with happiness as she giggles into the kiss and pulls away.

“Does that mean I can call you my boyfriend now?” She asks and he nods.

“Baby, you can call me anything you want now,” He says and she laughs, a mischievous flickers passes through her eyes.

“Even my best friend?” He immediately shakes his head and laughs.

“Anything but that.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry #harrystyles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #best friend!harry #my writing

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apomaro-mellow · 3 months

Text

Hot for Teacher(s) 3

Part 2 / AO3 Link

After school practices for the Thanksgiving performance was only for the students who wanted to put a little more time into it. Apparently a bulk of the rehearsal happened during their music class and that made sense. Still, Steve was glad to put a face to some of the kids his son mentioned. The first night there had been a girl who's lip trembled at the slightest upset and Steve knew that had to be Yasmin.

"She's a crybaby who cries over everything", Shawn had said one time.

"Hm, need I remind you of all the times you've cried? Why I remember just last week-"

"We don't need to talk about that", Shawn said, properly chastised.

Even so, Steve could see how it could get a little frustrating to be in a class with someone as sensitive as that. And yet, Mr. Munson never let on that he was frustrated or anything like that. Every time the tears came, he talked her down. Which was quite the feat since he had probably been doing it for eight hours at this point.

"You're really good with the kids", Steve complimented when Mr. Munson took a seat near them to rest.

Third grade was working on their performance piece on the stage now while the smaller kids got a break. Mr. Munson smiled a bit as he scratched at his head.

"Yeah, well, patience is key, as I'm sure you know. Actually, how old are the kids you teach?", he asked.

"Middle school", Steve answered, laughing a little when he saw the other teacher's eyes get wide in fear.

"Braver than any marine, I swear. I will take spilt milk tears over the raging hormones going on over there."

Steve's brain decided to highlight the word 'hormones' which made him delayed in his response. He cleared his throat to try and cover it up. "It's not as bad as all that. I've got the babies of middle school, the sixth graders, but don't tell them I said that. And I'm lucky I've got a group there that's absolutely obsessed with science."

He met Mr. Munson's eyes and was met with a million watt smile. One that he knew was on his own face too.

"That's the best feeling, ain't it? When they wanna soak up as much as you can give?"

"The best", Steve agreed. It wasn't always candy and roses but it was all worth it for those days when everything just clicked. "Speaking of passions, did you get that approval for your ideas for the show?"

"They said I could play guitar, but they vetoed my pyrotechnics idea."

That night, Mr. Munson walked him and Shawn back to their car. And as such, became a routine for two days out of the week. Through it all, Steve commended himself for only drooling a little over him and only when he was alone.

At home, one Saturday, Shawn was humming his class' song while Steve made them lunch. He looked to the calendar and realized the show would be that coming Monday. Well, he knew that but it hit him that in less than a week, Thanksgiving break would start and then there wouldn't be much of a reason for him to see Mr. Munson anymore.

Just as the thought came to him, he looked at the school events calendar he had put in his phone and saw that there would be a Winter Dance but that it was for 4th and 5th grade only. He held back a sigh. Oh well, maybe if he got particularly antsy, he could schedule a confere-no, nononono.

He wasn't going to waste a teacher's time over nothing. Just because, what? He wanted to see him?

He said as much when he talked to Robin the next day. They were sitting in his living room, Shawn was up in his room, reading on this lazy Sunday.

"So, you're just going to avoid him?"

"It's not avoiding. I'm just not going to go out of my way to seek him out", Steve clarified. "And maybe this little crush", he whispered the word 'crush' like tiny ears were listening, "will die down."

"Mhm", Robin nodded, unconvinced. "You know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

Steve leaned back against the couch. "There's at least one absence I'm not missing."

"...Don't tell me this is all because of him?"

"It's not because of him but...", Steve's eyes traveled to where Shawn's baby book sat on a bookshelf. Inside were the only pictures of Shawn's sire. And honestly, Steve wouldn't even have those if it were up to him. But he wanted to leave the door open just for when Shawn got older and could decide how much he wanted that man in his life.

"I don't think Mr. Munson is anything like him. Of course I don't. But I can't make a mistake like that again. If Shawn got hurt, I could never forgive myself."

Robin gave him a pat on the leg. "If you really think it's for the best."

It was. Steve knew that what was on the surface could be hiding something ugly underneath. He wasn't going to expose him or his pup to anything like that again. Mr. Munson was nice but these feelings weren't deep enough to swim in. Steve was barely getting his toes wet. He would stay high and dry and then Shawn would go on to second grade and then he would only see Mr. Munson in passing, if that.

Steve had all these affirmations in mind as he settled in to see Shawn's performance Monday. Planning ahead, Steve had told his school a couple weeks ago that he had a doctor appointment and wouldn't be coming in until later. Just long enough to pop in and see Shawn sing. As he had planned and rehearsed, Mr. Munson sat on a stool to one side of the stage, acoustic guitar in his lap.

It was all the school would allow and seeing as the kids' singing voices weren't super strong, it was for the best. Steve recorded the act, phone focused on Shawn while every once in a while, his eyes drifted to Mr. Munson.

After the song, Steve waved to Shawn, who waved back. He had told him ahead of time that he'd have to go back to work after seeing him, so that his son wouldn't be disappointed. When they saw each other at home later, Shawn's adrenaline from the day hadn't waned.

"So a lot of the other kids' parents took them home, so Mr. Munson let some of us play with his guitar!"

"Did he now?", Steve smiled.

"Uh-huh. He even taught us how to play. Do you think he teaches guitar?"

"Would you like some lessons?", Steve asked.

"Only if Mr. Munson is teaching it. He makes everything so cool."

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

Steve watched as Shawn ran ahead to go into the corn maze. Most of the corn was gone, so he wasn't worried about him getting lost as Robin went to get them hot ciders. Shawn scurried through the maze when he found someone familiar.

Robin had come back with two ciders that she and Steve sipped on while Shawn made his way through the maze.

"Dad! Look who's here!"

Steve looked up, expecting to see one of his little friends. Not Mr. Munson.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with chunky rings and his hair let loose, spilling over his shoulders.

"Dad look! It's Mr. Munson! Dad?"

"Mr. Munson! What a surprise!", Robin came in for the save while Steve was speechless. She gave him a subtle nudge that really wasn't all that subtle but that was okay because Mr. Munson was having his own crisis.

Because here was Mr. Harrington, enjoying a harvest festival, shoulder to shoulder with a beautiful alpha woman.

"H-hey, didn't expect to run into you here", Mr. Munson stuttered.

"Me neither", Steve said, voice a little breathless. He cleared it and remembered himself. "This is Robin, she's my neighbor. Robin, this is Shawn's teacher."

"Heard so much about you", Robin grinned.

Steve wanted to kick her in the shin.

"Hey, Shawn, how's about we go and pick out a pumpkin or something?", Robin suggested, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the other two, leaving them alone.

Mr. Munson looked like a deer caught in headlights and Steve couldn't blame him.

"Jesus, she couldn't be anymore obvious."

"Did you want to talk to me about something, Mr. Harrington?"

"No, I didn't. But, I think...I think we should have this conversation anyway." Steve ran a hand through his hair.

They went to a little sitting area the farm had set up near the food booths so that they could talk. Eddie's mind ran a mile a minute, thinking of what this could be about. Both good and bad. He'd gotten a hot chocolate both to keep his hands warm and to give him something to do with said hands. Hands that Mr. Harrington was staring at right now.

"I um", he shook his head and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "I just wanted to-god this is hard."

"Well, let's make it easier", Eddie said. "Is it about Shawn? Is he having problems in school?"

"No, it's not about that. It's about us-I mean, there is no us but I-goddammit", Steve hissed, cheeks getting red in embarrassment. He let out a breath. "Mr. Munson, I'm having..." don't say feelings don't say feelings don't say feelings "-sensations, that aren't entirely professional. About you."

"Oh."

"And I know nothing can come of it, but I just want you to know that, to know that I'm aware of them and if I ever come on, I guess too strong, please just let me know."

"Um, for how long?", Eddie asked, hoping he wasn't vibrating in his seat because it sure did feel that way.

"Uhh, pretty much since I first met you", Mr. Harrington admitted. "And I don't know if it's because you've been looking after me and Shawn when we walk back to the car, or if it's something else but you just smell...you feel safe. And it's hard for me not too....", he trailed off, voice getting soft.

He didn't know how much that meant to Eddie. His first year of teaching, Eddie had gone on scent blockers, not wanting to overwhelm the little noses in his room. But one day he'd forgotten and things just seemed to run more smoothly when they could get a whiff of him. For Mr. Harrington to say his scent made him feel safe...

"It hasn't exactly been easy for me either", Eddie finally said. "Me too, since that first day I... But you already said nothing can come from it."

There was a hesitant look in Mr. Harrington's eyes. "Well, you know, why not?"

"Why...not?", Eddie echoed.

"I have my personal reasons for not pursuing this, but they mostly involve Shawn. If he doesn't know about it, I mean if we can hide it from most people, you won't get in trouble with the school. And we won't, you know get Shawn's hopes up if it doesn't become serious."

"Why, Mr. Harrington, are you propositioning me?" Honestly, Eddie didn't give a flying fuck what this principal thought about his private life. At the end of the day, it really was just Shawn he was worried about. He didn't know what happened to the other half of his DNA, but he knew that kids with only one parent sometimes longed for a second. He couldn't make Shawn think that was him unless this was the real deal. And he wouldn't know that for sure if he didn't give this a try.

"For starters, when we're not on school grounds, you can call me Steve."

"Eddie."

"Eddie, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Steve's face was a mix of hopeful and confident that Eddie wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. "I'd love to."

Part 4

There is absolutely some angst with Steve's baby daddy comin down the line. I came up with it where I come up with all my best ideas, half asleep when I wake up in the morning.

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 4 months

Text

okay so normally when i make informative posts about current news, i try to always link a source for it (i tend to rely on the guardian) or at least explain the source of it.

but i dont know if the government are planning to publicise this or quietly implement it so im hesitant to give details on where i got this info. im just gonna say it was from someone/s who works in the department of work and pensions, and hope that my prior post history speaks well enough of me for you to trust that this isnt misinformation.

i dont like doing this but i think this information is too important for me not to share it and said info is fucking disgusting.

starting in march, in the uk, if you ask at the job centre for a voucher for a local foodbank, you are going to be turned away.

under the current system, if you go to a job centre that has a food bank referral service, the staff will fill in a slip (theyre advised not to call it a voucher but tomayto tomarto you know?) and refer you to a local charity which will allocate you food according to the slip.

that ends on march 1st. after that, they will just hopefully signpost you to other services that can help you get an emergency food parcel. that will likely involve you having to travel somewhere, potentially on a public transport, costing you more money that you dont have. and that does not guarantee that you will get the food you need either that day or at all.

our government does not care about its citizens, but especially not about us who are poor. they see the working class, the impoverished and the homeless as subhumans. they see us as what new right sociologist and white nationalist libertarian charles murray coined the underclass.

and you know this because of how the current system will be working from now until the end of february because if youre gonna stab someone while theyre bleeding to death, you might as well double tap it, ay?

from now until february 29th, you now must have an interview so that they can be "sure" that you need that food.

bear in mind that this does not cost the government anything. they are not losing money because of this service, if you want to call it that.

and that interview? that could take up to 3 days; its whenever they have a timeslot within 3 days of your asking. you could go in and say "i have no money and i have no food, i havent eaten for days, please help," and they could tell you to come back in three days, and then not even give you that slip of paper anyway.

this could kill someone. yes, it takes longer than three days to starve to death, but if someone is struggling that much to need help acquiring food, theyre gonna have more problems going on. people might choose food over heating and freeze to death; they might decide to eat food thats gone off and end up dying from it because they couldnt call 999 because they didnt have electricity; they might decide to try and injure themselves so bad that they have an extended stay in hospital as a way to get food and die in the process; they might not have eaten in weeks and starve to death.

but hey, if you do pass the interview process, youll get the referral you needed up to three days ago and a discussion about how better to manage your finances, because hey, youve already stabbed the stabbed person two more times, why not twist the fucking knife?

#uk politics #ukpol #british politics #britpol #britposting #food banks #long post #job centre #i dont know what to tag this as #i also dont like posting this without more details on the source of the info #but i dont know if the government are planning to publicise it and i dont want to risk them getting in trouble #rishi sunak #tories #fuck the tories #conservatives #conservative party #anti tories

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manjiroia · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡ sano manjiro, haruchiyo sanzu, haitani ran + rindou, kakucho + hajime kokonoi, draken, hanma + NEW BOY TAIJU :DD

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡ timeskip!characters , fluff , gn reader , trying something new and putting in SMUT (in detail, twitter links ;) afab reader) , minors- gtfo

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ♡ I come back and find out we hit a 1k milestone, so I made these. I apologise if some are OOC, I'm a little out of practice... but anyways, enjoy ♡

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘 that keeps at least one arm around you at all times. he's gone through so much, he *needs* to make sure nothing happens to you too ✧ so many kisses... sometimes you need to stop him with your hand on his mouth ✧ ... please give him affection soon though.. we don't want him raging through a meeting cause he's touch starved :')

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 who always comes home with blood stains on his suits, looking for you to clean him up. smiling when you hassle and nag him for not taking enough care of himself, and just chuckles + gives you a headpat instead ✧ he has a hand on your ass EVERYWHERE... literally all the time ✧ it just looks so holdable and cupable, can you blame him?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐑𝐀𝐍 that never fails to give you a sweet good morning kiss when he wakes up, makes you breakfast in bed and before he leaves for work. he just loves showing his affection to you ✧ another man that needs to be touching you, it's like someting they all have in common ✧ definitely makes "jokes" about marrying you and knocking you up ✧ its not a joke, but he doesn't think you know that

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 that always gets the faintest blush on his cheeks when he makes the first move. whether its holding your hand or asking if you want to go out for dinner. he's just shy and anxious about your response :')) ✧ when you bring him his lunch cause he forgot?? mannnn ✧ expect him all blushy and shit in the office ✧ he always comes home with a new bouquet at night for you when it does happen, stuttering out a quiet "thanks" for bringing his lunch to work :')) ✧ so cute

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 who holds the hem of your shirt whenever the both of you have to go grocery shopping. the scar over his eye doesn't help with the stares he gets, only feeling his heart thud comfortably in his chest when you look up at him with a soft smile ✧ I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS - he loves headpats ✧ nuzzles into your palm and everything ✧ when he wants one but your not offering, he just bends his head down quietly and waits for you to pat him

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄.... this man, he's always buying you something new every week. he's subtly looking over your shoulder whenever your on a shopping website, making a mental note of it and buying it for you at the end on the week. ✧ .... *sigh* ✧ I hope you have a really big house, if not- it's fine. he'll just buy one and fill it with all the shit he's bought for you ✧ you really need to put your foot down though when it gets too much, like.... who needs 5 different cars for work?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘 ONE TWO

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 ONE TWO

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐑𝐀𝐍 ONE TWO

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 ONE TWO

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 ONE TWO

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 ONE TWO

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 ONE

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 ONE

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐉𝐔 ONE

this is just all 3 of them (seperately) and this

𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 ♡

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

try to relax

bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni. (fingering, fxm intercourse, dirty talk) drug use (don’t do drugs kids) and kinda dub-con because drugs. this is a FIC okay fictional. FAKE. swearing. one mention of death, tiny illusion to bucky’s sad little life but he’s fine now okay.

a/n: i honestly don’t know how good this is but i’m just happy to have finished SOMETHING these past two weeks. ding dong eat this!!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You need to chill the fuck out.” You say from your spot against the wall. Even watching him was stressing you out, your eyes tracking him back and forth as he paces the room you have both been stuck in for the last 3 hours.

“And you need to take this more seriously.” He takes a break from walking in a straight line to run a hand through his hair, peaking out the window for the hundredth time.

“They aren’t coming. Not for a while, at least.” Your head rolls back, the hunched position making you ache everywhere, but you didn’t have anywhere else to go with Bucky’s pacing.

“How would you know? You’ve been sitting there half asleep on your ass for hours while everyone else is probably searching for us.” He was so worked up— had been all day. This mission had gone wrong the minute the two of you had been paired up. Secure the perimeter, that was all you had to do. It was simple, but you and Bucky were anything but.

You don’t know when it started; it had to of been in the past few months when you started helping Steve out with a few lower level drug guys that turned out to be linked to Hydra. You never thought drug-dealing would turn out to lead to a promotion like this— staking out a building with an Avenger, but now here you were, and Bucky seemed to hate it from the start. Hated you too, probably.

There was just something about you that didn’t mesh well with him. It could be the way he never seemed to take a breath for one second, constantly either in a state of combat or some sort of depressive episode. Either way, the two of you worked well together— as a working team, that is. Even if it was paired with constant bickering that made the entire team rip out the comms in there ears.

Bucky just made you feel… things. You didn’t know why you always bickered with him, always found an excuse to talk to him, even if it was to argue. You were just drawn to him in a way you didn’t understand, but it was best you didn’t. He certainly didn’t feel anything but mild irritation. Maybe more than mild.

“Look, they are either still trying to clear out the building across the street, orrrrr… they are all dead and we are next. Either way there’s nothing we can do about it right now, so you might as well get comfortable.”

“Our friends could be dead, and you want to get comfortable?”

“Your friends. My co-workers.” You drag your backpack over to you, using it as a pillow before laying down on the floor, preparing for a long night. The area Steve and Natasha were covering was huge, and now that you and Bucky had been locked in this room before you could finish your sweep, you were stuck here until they met up with you on the other side. “They aren’t dead, James. Without any super powered help though, it’s going to take them hours to even figure out we are still here. So chill out.”

Bucky sighed, but he had exhausted every way possible to get out of this room. There was a window, and if he was alone, he would take his chance and jump, but it was way too far for you, and Steve would kill him if he left you here. That’s the excuse he told himself, at least.

In reality, he didn’t want to leave you. You were the first person he’d had a connection with other than Steve in decades. Sure, you hated his guts and found him annoying, but you talked to him. Didn’t look at him like he was some kind of monster. You were never afraid of him, talking back at him like he was just another person, not a super soldier who could kill you in less than a second. You were also an ex-drug dealer, though, so maybe he shouldn’t value your opinion as much as he does.

The little fight he had about getting out of here drops out when his back hits the opposite wall to you, sliding down now that his body feels heavy with exhaustion. It had been a long day, and even if this mission was cut short, hanging around you all day always sucked the energy out of him. It was like adrenaline pumped him awake when he was with you—that was probably why you thought he was so strung out all the time. It was just you that made him nervous, put him on edge.

“I can practically hear you thinking.” You were staring at him, watching how his metal hand and the real one linked behind his neck as he leaned back. Yeah, he might hate you, but fuck if he didn’t look good doing it. His hair was getting a little longer now, fading around the nape of his neck, and you tried to look away but his eyes caught you like a snare, pulling you in.

“What?”

“You’re stressing me out. Take a Xanax or something, you need to just… relax.” He rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Of course you would tell me to take a fucking pill.” He shakes his head, and you shrug. “Your whole bag is probably full of shit to offload, huh?”

“One, I’m offended. I’ll have you know I’ve gone straightened arrow thanks to my new, well paying job. Two, this is my personal stash, and you’re lucky to be offered anything at this rate.” He scoffs, and for a second he thinks your bluffing— you must be. No one in their right mind would pack for a mission anything but the essentials; ammo, ropes, necessary supplies. Drugs were out of the question, why would anyone ever— “But, since we’re stuck here, it’s your lucky day.”

You reach into the side pocket of your bag, and pull out one small tin. It’s the size of your palm, and when you open it, the room is instantly filled with a smell that Bucky knows too well.

“Seriously? You brought a blunt on a fucking recon mission?” He nearly laughs. “You have to be kidding. You know Fury would kill you for that.”

“Well, technically it’s medicinal. And in the state of New York, it’s almost the same as carrying a firearm— legal as long as you have the right paperwork, which we do.” You pull out a lighter, and shuffle over on your knees to sit closer to him. He must be high already, because the sight of you coming closer, on your knees has his breath hitching in his throat. You reach out, offering him the tin.

“I’m not smoking.” You take the tin back, looking up at him through your lashes before lighting one end and inhaling deeply. Your eyes flutter shut, and he knows he’s watching you too intently, but your eyes are closed, and he lets himself indulge for one more second before looking out the window, hoping for a distraction from the way you have him feeling.

“Suit yourself.” You lay down, spreading yourself out on the floor as you bring the blunt back to your mouth. Your eyes cross as you watch yourself exhale, letting the heavy smoke fan out in the small space around you. “You know you could really use it, though.”

“I’ve had enough of people fucking with my head. I don’t need to do it to myself.” You sit up on your elbows, your hair sliding over your shoulder as you turn to look at him.

“This is weak as shit. With your super soldier blood, you probably won’t even get high, but if you don’t want it, I’m not gonna make you.” You weren’t feeling any of the effects yet, so the look of sincerity in your eyes almost makes Bucky feel a little bare. “I get it. Not wanting to fuck yourself up.”

“Yeah.” He manages to get out, watching at you inhale again. The room feels ten degrees hotter, and your chest puffs out just a little when you smoke. Bucky tucks his legs up to bend them.

“You drink like a fucking sailor though. Constantly. This—“ You wave the blunt in the air, smiling a little. “—this is much healthier.”

“Oh? Healthier? Must be why it’s illegal.”

“Medicinal.” You purr, looking at him again with a spark in your eye.

“I don’t get drunk.” You turn to face him then, still laying down, and the curve of your hip is exposed with how your shirt rides up. Bucky coughs, looking out the window again.

“Why do you drink so much, then?”

“Medicinal.” You grin lazily, flopping your head to one side, and then a light giggle comes out of your mouth, and Bucky is pretty sure he’s breathing in too much of your second hand smoke with how fast his heart is beating, despite the fact it’s all flying out the open window.

“You’re funny. Why didn’t I know you were funny?” You lay back down, exhaling more smoke and watching a little bit of ash fall off the end of the blunt.

“Too busy yellin’ at me.”

“Yeah, well if you didn’t go out of your way to piss me off so much, I wouldn’t yell.” Another few rings of smoke hover above you, and the more you smoke, the more intrigued he is with the effect it has on you, and what it would do to him.

“I don’t try to do that.” Bucky says, a little more defensive than he meant.

“Must be your natural charm, then. That or you just really hate my guts.” You say it jokingly, but there’s a tinge of truth behind it. You think he hates you? Sure, you argue, but he argues with everyone. It’s practically a personality trait. After a long silence, he finally finds the mind to say something.

“I don’t. Hate you.” His hands nervously tap against his knees. “If we’re being honest, I actually always kind of liked you. Even if you did piss me off all the time.”

“Aww. You like me!” You chirp in a sing-song tone and he scoffs, dropping his head to hide the stupid smile that makes his eyes light up. “That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah? I’ll take it back. No one’ll believe you; you’re high as shit.” You start laughing harder, proving his point.

“Well, there you go. Only took us being locked in a room for three hours, and now we’re best buds.” You laugh at your own joke, and Bucky shakes his head, only smiling because you were.

Inhaling again, the paper in your hand is nearly burnt out, and you relight it before sucking in one more time, and snuffing out the flame on the ground. The muscles in your shoulders nearly sink into the ground, and your eyes close, sighing.

“You okay?” He asks quietly after a few minutes, and you smile, keeping your eyes shut.

“Never better, Buck.” The nickname makes him straighten. You hardly ever call him Bucky, only James. He likes it a little too much; the way you say it. He sees how relaxed you are, how easy words come to you the longer you sit with the drug in your system, and he wants to feel that relaxed. Since he came back from Wakanda, he doesn’t think he’s had a second of feeling as relaxed as you are now. He was constantly wondering what was around the corner, terrified of his own mind, and even though he knew he was free, there was always going to be that thing in the back of his mind that told him to stay alert. Stay tense.

“What’s it feel like?” He hates how fucking young he sounds, but it’s an experience he’s never had. He didn’t do shit like that when he was young— never had a chance to. He was straight into the army, and the only thing he ever smoked was cigarettes.

“Warm.” You hum. For a second he thought you were asleep with how still you were. “Feels better the longer you wait.”

“Thought your tolerance would be better for a drug dealer.” He teases.

“I don’t use a lot. Never did.” You suck in a long, clean breath, and finally open your eyes again.

“Why not?”

“I gotta be with the right people. I don’t want my head all messed up around the people I was with. Need to trust them.”

“And you trust me?”

“Of course I do. I would of died a hundred times over if it wasn’t for you.” Sure, the two of you may not agree, and most of the time argue about it, but you trusted him a hell of a lot more than anyone you sold with. More than anyone, really. His eyes linger on the joint in your hand, and you raise an eyebrow. “You curious?”

“Kind of.”

“Really?” He shrugs, looking around the empty room. The sun was starting to set, washing you over in a hue of orange. There was literally nothing else to do right now. “Okay. You done this before?”

“I’m 106 years old.” He deflects, and you squint at him. “No, I haven’t.”

You laugh, sitting up and bringing your lighter in your right hand. You shuffle over on your knees, and you get a little closer than you need but Bucky lets you. Widening his legs, he lets you lean against the inside of one of his thighs.

You feel high as a fucking kite, and it’s not even the blunt that’s making you all lightheaded. Bucky smells so fucking good, and this close you can nearly sink into him. He’s watching you intently, eyes tracking when your hands fiddle with the paper and lighter, and as you bring it to his lips, he stares into your eyes when his parts his mouth.

“So, what you wanna do is—“

“Yeah, yeah. Light it.” He says, the blunt muffling his words as he leans forward. His chest presses against your side and you feel him breathe in, the small flame of the lighter licking at the twisted end.

He takes a long, deep breath and holds it for a couple seconds, staring at you with slightly widened eyes. You wait for it— the realisation it’s too much too quick, and in the next moment he’s coughing practically into your lap, turning away and snatching your water out of your hands.

“Jesus. You really are old.” He was still coughing, trying to swallow some water, but after he got a couple breaths back in he was smiling with you. Head resting back on the wall, grinning from ear to ear. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just been a while since I smoked anything.” You nod, taking a hit of your own. The familiar burn keeps the warmth spreading in your chest, and you can feel how hot your face is getting, the warmth of Bucky’s body heat making you want to reach out and grab him.

Okay— you needed to cool down. Clearly, being near Bucky was making you delirious, because the thoughts you could usually shut down were the same ones you couldn’t stop thinking about. How warm his mouth would feel, how easy it would be to curl into his chest and sleep this stupid mission away.

“Can I?” His metal hand gently drags the joint from your mouth as you nod slowly, staring up at him. You watch, enthralled at how he makes it look so good. He shuts his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of breathing and the honeyed feeling slipping into his chest. It was the closest thing you’d seen to pure perfection— how his hair fell, how his metal hand looked so careful, even though you knew what it could really do. Your eyes must nearly have hearts in them, you were staring with that much intent.

Bucky, on the other hand, was on cloud fucking nine. Two drags in and he could feel that warm, sleepy high you were talking about. He was worried about… well, something, at some point he thinks, but honestly he couldn’t hold onto a single thought other than the way you were looking at him right now. It was the drugs, he reasoned, but Jesus, he couldn’t help it. You were so close, and your eyes were so wide…

Wordlessly, the two of you share the second blunt, passing it between you with a few small laughs if Bucky chokes. You show him a few dumb smoke tricks you picked up along the way, and he fails miserably trying to copy them. Eventually the paper burns through and you snuff it out on the wall, letting your head fall back on the top of Bucky’s knee.

“Damn.” He says now that he’s sat in the feeling for a while. “You were right.”

“Huh?”

“Feels… good. The longer you wait.” You hum, smiling, and his face falls when you turn your head to look up at him. Wind blows through the crack in the window, and no matter how warm the weed is making you feel, you still shiver as it crosses over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… wind is cold.” He blows out a breath, head flopping to the side to squint at the window, almost like he’d forgotten it was there.

“We are high up. Gonna get colder tonight.” Neither of you expected an overnight mission, and you hadn’t even packed a jacket. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I’m cold, too. Come closer.” Arms outstretched, he looks way too inviting. It was James, though… and up until about three hours ago, you thought he hated you. Now, he wanted to… cuddle?

“James.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He pouts. Like a four year old.

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me.” You shook your head, hair falling over your now heated cheeks. Feeling like you had to prove him wrong, like you had to make it up to him, and also like the only place you wanted to be was tucked into his giant frame, in one movement you spin around and lean into him, your back pressing against his chest. You sigh, sinking into the feeling of him pressed to your feverish skin, every exhale dropping you further and further down in his lap. His arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel his nose on the skin at the back of your neck.

“S’better, yeah?” His voice is gravely and low, the heat of his words brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah. It’s good.” Your eyes were a little heavy, but you had never felt more awake. Bucky’s hands were fanned out on your stomach, holding you a little tighter now that he knew you wanted to stay.

“You smell nice.” His head is pressed against the back of yours, and the comment breaks you out into a fit of laughter, because of course he would say that.

“You would think so. It’s your shampoo I use.” You feel his laughter on the back of your neck, and it’s then that you somehow notice the sun has completely disappeared from the window. “Shit, Buck. What time is it?”

“Dunno.”

“We… we should try the comms again. See if Steve can hear us.” Bucky makes a noise, maybe agreement, or maybe he’s just humming a tune, but one of his arms skates along your side to reach for his pocket, and he holds out the comm to your ear, pressing the receiver.

After a few tries, you give up. It’s clear your going to be stuck here all night, but with the way you are now, you don’t really give a shit.

“Nothin’.” You say and he chucks the comm to the other side of the room, pulling you closer as he threads his metal arm back around your waist. “And you said I needed to take this more seriously.”

“I am being very…” His lips brush against the hot skin of your collarbone “..very serious right now.”

“Bucky…” He hums again, the vibration on your skin sinking all the way through your body. “You’re… friendly—when your high.”

“I’m always friendly.” Fuck— the way he says it, he’s not even trying to but it makes your toes curl in your shoes. You don’t say anything, just let his head press into the crook of your neck, like he’s using you to hold himself up. He probably feels as weighed down as you do, all your limbs feeling like weights now. After a bit of silence, he picks his head up. “I like this.”

“You like it?” He nods, the few curls on his forehead tickling under your jaw. “Well, I can get you some if you—“

“Not the drugs. You.” A noise erupts from your throat, somewhere between a gasp and a pathetic whimper.

“You’re just high, Buck.” It makes you a little angrier than it should— he gets to say stuff like that now cause he’s all fucked up, but then he’s gonna go right back to his old self when this wears off in a couple of hours, and you hate that he can make you feel all these things with a few sweet words. As hard as it is, you slide out of his hold, and he frowns, head falling back to lean on the wall again.

“M’not.” He moans, shuffling up slightly.

“Yes, you are. Let me see your eyes.” Bucky lets his head fall forward dramatically, and now you’re on your knees in front of him, you can see how flushed his face is, and his eyes are bloodshot. “You’re high as fuck.”

“So?”

“So, you’re talking out of your ass. You don’t get to say things like that then take them back when your heads clear.” It comes out a little more bitter than you planned, and you shove yourself backward, putting more space between you two. It didn’t matter how much you wanted it— he was fucked, and would never want you sober.

“What? Wait… give me a second.” He rubs his eyes, and shakes his head in this totally endearing way that makes you want to slide back over in his arms, but you keep your hands cemented to the floor. “That’s not— I wouldn’t take it back. I do… like you.”

“Why are you saying that like it leaves a bad taste in your mouth?” He swallows and blinks slowly, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. If you weren’t so high right now, you might be more upset with him. Or more… reactive, in another way. Instead you just sit and watch him blink at you, nearly being able to hear the cogs slowly turning in his brain.

“No, I just... Jesus, you are so complicated.” Your jaw hangs open, and it’s you that gets a little closer this time.

“Me? I’m complicated?”

“Yes. Complicated.” He pronounces every syllable of the word, a slight smirk on his face. “You act like you hate me most days, but you always look at me like...”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me. Bad.” That wipes the expression off your face, and you can’t tell if it’s the drugs in your system or just the effect Bucky has on you, but you struggle to get a proper breath in. “Like maybe you want me as bad as I want you, and for some reason you don’t want to admit it.”

“Bucky.” You say, and it was meant to have some kind of warning in it, but it comes out more as a whimper. He was reading your mind, all those times you rolled your eyes at him, started an argument just so he would get angry at you and focus on you; you could blame the weed as much as you wanted, but even stone cold sober Bucky would be able to get you to give in this easy.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about it. Even once.” He shuffles forward on his knees, towering over you.

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Yeah, I do. Really bad.” He’s closer now, and you can smell the faint remains of his cologne. It’s nearly intoxicating. Your back was pressing against the wall, and you weakly kick out a leg into his chest, stopping him from getting closer. It’s the last thing you want, but Bucky stops, sinking back on his heels.

“You don’t. You aren’t thinking clearly.” His shoulders slump, and the way his eyes are all wide and puppy dog like, you can’t figure out if you should just let him do whatever he wants to you or splash water in his face. The only reason you haven’t jumped on him yet is because this must be the weed. It has to be, because there’s no way in hell Buck actually wants you. He’s just cold, horny, probably, but he doesn’t want you. He doesn’t even like you…

“Nothing I haven’t thought a hundred times before.” Bucky whispers, staying where he is opposite you. “Think about it too much, probably. All the time.”

“Think about what?” He smiles then, like he could almost see the last bit of your rational brain fly out the small crack of the window. He moves, not on top of you like you hoped he’d try, but next to you, exhaling as he relaxes against the wall. His shoulder presses into yours, and his head flops to the side nearly resting on you.

“Think about how you always piss me off. Like you do it on purpose.” The anxiety you were feeling starts to fade away, and the calming effects of the drug set in, making your eyes flutter shut as you smile. “Makes me think you just do it to get my attention.”

“You wish.” He’s right, reading you like an open fucking book, and even with his inebriated state he knows it. He looks up at you, grinning ear to ear, and you shove him. Not hard enough to get him off you, though.

“I’m not saying anything I don’t mean. I’ve never hated you. Never not wanted you.” He blows past the admission, stretching his legs out and moving so the entire length of his body was pressing against the side of yours. But it’s not lost on you. It’s almost like you’re dreaming— everything you never thought you’d hear is laid out in front of you, and your heart nearly stops at the thought of taking it.

“Wanted me, huh?” You deflect and he nods, still staring at you. “You have a shit way of showing it.”

“I haven’t got the best game nowadays. It’s been… a while.” Both of you laugh a little harder than necessary, and now you really feel it. That familiar buzz… it’s taken a little longer to set in, but now there’s not a thought in your brain other than the way Bucky’s head was resting on your shoulder, and his nose was grazing the skin just under your jaw. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You know this isn’t what I had in mind when I said you needed to chill out.” You suck in a sharp breath when his hand comes up under your jaw, two long fingers angling your head up just right, so your lips would melt together if he moved half an inch forward.

“That’s not a bad thing, right?” He says it so soft, and his eyes flutter closed, letting you make the call. You stare at him for a second, trying to find any part of your blissed out head that would take the moral high ground. “Cause I would be very, very relaxed if you kissed me right now.”

“Bucky…” His eyes open, keeping his hand on your jaw. “I don’t want to kiss you if you’ll go back to hating me tomorrow.”

“I never hated you.” His hand slides back, fingers threading in your hair and he shakes his head. “I want this if you do.”

“You know I do.” You whisper, and he hums, eyes darting between your mouth and his hands in your hair.

“S’fucking pretty, too. Always thought that.” The compliment makes you lose your edge, and you stutter through your sentences, trying to be the rational one— but let’s face it, he’s got you wrapped around one metal fucking finger.

“You aren’t— Bucky. I’m… we can’t. You are off your face—“

“I’m a fucking super soldier. One joint doesn’t make me want you any less.” Both of his hands hold you, his eyes wide. It’s like he’s suddenly awake, proving a point that if he concentrates, he’s still able to think clearly. “I want you. Now and tomorrow. After that.”

“After that?” You smile and laugh, and he brushes his nose against yours.

“Do you want this, doll?” You blink a few times and nod quickly, not wanting him to mistake your sluggishness for hesitation, and he leans forward. The buzzing of adrenaline is mixing with the warmth from the joint, and you know it’s going to happen, because he’s never someone you could say no to. When he finally kisses you it’s soft, electricity almost zapping if he wasn’t pressing against you so lightly.

It only lasts about three seconds and he pulls away, smiling like a kid before his metal arm wraps around your back and slides you over his lap. Both of you breathe in sync, sucking in air before colliding your lips again. It’s still slow, but harder this time, Bucky’s hand pulling your hair a little as he makes a fist, trying to hold onto something— anything to ground him.

Maybe it’s the fact your both in the clouds, or it’s the built up tension from months of bickering and side eye glances, but one roll of your hips has both of you panting, and you swear if you just get a little more friction you could finish right in his lap, him only needing to tug on your hair a little harder.

“Bucky.” You moan like it’s a curse word, and he growls into your mouth, pulling you tighter. Your movements aren’t controlled, your brain so foggy that you aren’t sure you can really feel your fingertips and how hard they might be digging into the strong lines of Bucky’s neck, but he’s just as gone as you are, and you both revel in the unhinged desperation that has you both pulling— pleading with the other to give in.

“Baby, baby…” He sighs, and kisses down your neck. His teeth scrape along the skin, nipping lightly, the warmth of his mouth following in a soothing apology. “Tell me you want me like I want you. Don’t want you to hate me for this.”

“Never fucking hated you, Bucky. Just…” You roll your hips again and let out the most pathetic sound you think you’ve ever made, the drugs only making everything feel slower and a hundred times better. “I want you. Want you now.”

Your hands slip between your bodies, and Bucky bites harder than he wanted to on your collarbone when you palm him roughly through his jeans.

“Fuck. Sorry, baby.” He kisses over the spot, now destined to leave a mark, but the way you bummed when he did it makes him think you like it.

“It’s okay. You feel good.” You say, breathless and voice heavy with need. He has to stop himself from tearing your pants open and shoving himself inside of you then and there, but the weed and the fact you were finally letting him touch you like this makes him want to draw this out. Make you wait; have it nice and slow like you deserve. “Buck. Please, need you to—“

“Shh. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles into your ear, feeling you shiver as both of his hands drop to rest on your upper thighs. He squeezes, forcing you to relax, although your limbs already feel like jelly. Then they slide upward, tugging at the button of your jeans and pulling them down. “You trust me?”

Nodding again, you both move at the same time. It’s awkward and fumbling, you trying to keep your hands on him while the both of you try to undress, and you feel so lightheaded that when Bucky swears under his breath while yanking your pants over your knees, you can’t help but laugh between the moments Buckys mouth isn’t on yours. He smiles back, you know even though your eyes are shut, and suddenly you don’t feel trapped in this room at all.

Your bare knees hit the cold hardwood floor and you sigh, putting the rest of your weight on top of Bucky. He sucks in a breath, one arm wrapping around your lower back, the cool metal making you flinch slightly. He notices, and goes to let you go, but you just shake your head.

“Don’t. I like it there.” Your eyes flutter open to find his own staring right at you, and when you talk he gets a lazy smile, his face relaxing before his real hand reaches up to your face and kisses you again.

“You like it?” He whispers, moving down to kiss your neck and you nod. “Good. That’s good. What about this?”

His mouth moves lower while his other hand does the same, resting on your hip and pushing you down a little harder.

“Yeah.” You breath, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug lightly and he groans, the sound making you smile. You can’t count how many times you’d imagined your hands in his hair. His hand lets go of your hip, rough pads of his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He traces the outline of your underwear, the gentle touch sending shivers up your spine and making it hard to get a full breath in. You press into him harder, the haziness in your mind pin pointed to the burst of pleasure rushing through you at the feeling.

“Let me help you, baby.” His words are a little slurred, and he moves slowly, but there’s nothing hesitant in the way his hand slips under the thin, ruined fabric of your underwear and draws slow, tight circles on your clit. You choke out a moan that’s lost in his mouth, body slumping forward as your head falls into the crook of his neck. “There you go. Good girl— good fucking girl.”

“Oh god—“ You moan, and he doesn’t get faster, just keeps that same slow, controlled pace.

“That’s it. Just relax— let me… shit, wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.” You don’t think you could possibly be more relaxed right now, feeling Bucky in all the right places.

He kisses along your jaw, letting his tongue dart out and teeth drag lightly over the spots that make you gasp. There isn’t a spot he hasn’t explored, the attention making you feverish and your eyes squeeze even tighter shut than you thought possible.

Your back arches and he grins against your skin, feeling your fingers grab his hair desperately and hearing you get louder and louder. His metal arm gripped your hip tight— forcing you to go at his pace, a slow staggering towards the building pleasure unfurling low in your stomach. When he kisses you again, head finally pulling back to your lips, it’s short and has you chasing his mouth.

“Wanna see those pretty eyes you when you cum. Look at me.” On command, you open your eyes, finding his gaze all too consuming. “There she is. You close, baby? Wanna cum around my fingers?”

Nodding, you cry out as he slides one finger inside of you, the wetness letting him open you up embarrassingly easily. He hums, almost smiling proudly, and you fight every instinct in your body to keep your eyes open and on him, because he told you so.

Everything halts for a second— you feel all your muscles contract and it’s almost like you’re falling, Bucky’s eyes burning into yours. He holds you closer, forehead pressing against you, and then pleasure overrides all of your senses. He guides you through it, his pace drawing out your release for as long as possible, still that slow, strong force that has you seeing literal stars even though you know you are looking at his eyes. The drug only heightens the sensation, feeling warmth and weightlessness like you never have before.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty.” You moan in response, feeling his index finger brush past your clit again as he slides away from your entrance. Heaving breaths return the oxygen to your brain, and you pull him into a bruising kiss, shaking fingers slipping under the fabric of his boxers.

You hear Bucky suck in a sharp breath when your hands skim lower, pulling his boxers down ever so slowly. He couldn’t figure out what to look at— your hands, soft and gentle, brushing against parts of his skin he’s not sure anyone this decade would of seen, or your face, the lazy smile and the way you bite your lip when you see how fucking hard he is for you just from hearing you say his name. Your hand brushes against him, lightly; teasing, and you smile a little wider when he lurches forward.

“Relax.” You say mockingly and he shakes his head, pulling your mouth back to his. Your bodies move in sync now, him shuffling down as you move up, and the kiss is only broken by a pleasured gasp from both of you as he slowly slides inside of you. “Oh, fuck—“

“You feel so good.” Bucky whines into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t move just yet, giving you time to adjust and only shifting your hips so you can take the weight off your legs. “Can feel how tight you are.”

“Bucky… please. Need you.” The feeling of him moaning against your skin makes your spine shiver.

“Alright, sweetheart. Stay nice and still for me, yeah?” Nodding, he shifts his hips, driving deeper inside of you and your mouth hangs open as fireworks shoot off in your stomach. His pace is slow at first, but Bucky doesn’t have the control he did with his hands. Not when he can feel you reacting to every move he makes, feel how you tighten around him when he talks to you— “Tell me how it feels.”

“Really… really good, Buck.” He looks up, not able to do anything but admire the way your head falls back, exposing all the little marks and bruises he’s made against your soft skin. “F-faster. Please.”

“Wrap your arms around me.” He can’t smell the weed anymore, just the intoxicating scent of you as your arms link behind his neck, kissing his forehead before he speeds up, feeling all that pent up anger and stress chin away with each passing second. “God, that’s it.”

He was too far gone now, being buried in you the strongest high he’s felt in his entire life— you were too sweet, too fucking tempting and good to him, he couldn’t even think about how wrong this was right now, all he could think about was how god damn good you made him feel, and how you were saying his name over and over like it meant something to you. Saying it with none of that hate and bite, no attitude, just pure fucking pleasure, and that thought pulled him over the edge.

“Buckyyy…” You whined again, jaw slack, and he could feel you were close too. Another few seconds and he’d be right there with you, and he wanted it more than he’d let himself admit.

“Hold on. Little bit longer.” He grunted into your mouth, one hand holding your jaw.

“I can’t… please—“

“Yes you can. So fucking stubborn. You can.” He kisses you softly and your eyebrows furrow in concentration— so fucking good to him—“Almost, baby. Doin’ so fucking good.”

He tightens his metal arm around your waist, moving your body into his so hard your nails dig into the flesh of his neck, and a choked whimper comes out of him before he can stop it.

“Gonna cum, okay? Wanna feel you first though… please.” The softness of his voice is what hurls you over for the second time, your body collapsing into Bucky’s strong arms.

You feel his abs tense under his shirt as he cums, the warmth of him filling you so deep you can’t imagine feeling anything else for days. You kiss him again, and his mouth falls open, wide and all consuming, pulling you in so deep you have no choice but to let him take what he wants, what he needs— and fuck, you are glad to give it to him.

There’s nothing cold about the way he holds you now, the open window blowing in a breeze from the now pitch black night, but Bucky’s arms are tight around your waist, and he’s still buried inside of you, panting with his face pressed to your skin. He’d catch his breath faster if he wasn’t constantly kissing along your collarbone, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Buck—”

“Don’t move yet. Just a lil’ longer.” You feel metal fingers grazing the line of your spine, running up and down in tentative lines.

You weren’t really going to tell him to move. You were going to say something about how the comm he threw had been flashing for twenty minutes, indicating someone was trying to reach the two of you, but couldn’t get through because neither of you were on the other line. You pick your head up off his shoulder, pushing him back gently to look in his eyes. His head falls against the wall, a grin spread on his face that makes him look a hundred years younger.

“Why are you smiling?” He laughs, slowly looking down your body to where you were still connected, his hands now resting firmly on your hips.

“Just… happy?” The rooms silence is broken up with your scoff and more of his laughter, the sound only making you feel even lighter. He gives your hips a light squeeze, and you open your eyes again. “Been thinking about this for months. You. You’re why I’m smiling.”

Kissing him again felt like the most relaxing thing in the world, and when he flipped you on your back, you shoved your backpack over the comm link, covering the flashing light and leaving the two of you in darkness.

#bucky x female reader #bucky x yn #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #the winter solider smut #the winter solider x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 8 months

Text

Enough For You

Based on this ask :)

Summary: Harry kisses EmRata in Tokyo and Y/N his girlfriend finds out on Twitter

Warnings: angst, sadness, insecurities

Word Count: ~ 2k

“Hi my love. Just calling to say I miss you and I love you more than anything. I know it’s super early for you so listen to this when you wake up and know that I’m thinking of you! Call me when you’re up.”

Y/N smiles tiredly as the sound of Harry’s low tone rumbles through the speakers. She loved the little messages he left for her to listen to when she wakes, since she’d been missing him so much on tour. They’d been together for almost two years but Y/N still wasn’t quite used to all the time they spent away from each other. Harry was constantly touring and while she tried to join him as often as she could, she had a full time job that she loved and she couldn’t just up and leave. Harry wasn’t due to come back for another 3 weeks but Glenne had let it slip that he had a few days off in Tokyo and Y/N decided to surprise him. She was flying out on a red-eye tomorrow evening and meeting him in the city.

She wasn’t really sure how she had gotten so lucky with Harry. They hardly ever fought, he’s kind and attentive and he really loved her. She knew he did and he made sure she knew it. They had been nervous being seen together in public because Y/N enjoyed her privacy and she had seen the internet tear apart Harry’s previous girlfriends. But, Harry’s fans had surprised her and been nothing but supportive of their relationship. Y/N even followed a few update accounts on instagram, thinking how sweet it was that they cared so much. Harry liked to joke that they were bigger fans of her than they were of him.

Jeff however, was not Y/N’s biggest fan. He had severely advised Harry against making things public with Y/N saying that “his image needed someone well known.” That comment had caused a rift between the two men as Harry fiercely and loudly defended his love for Y/N. Jeff had since apologised but things had been slightly tense ever since. Y/N tried not to let it get to her. She knew that it wasn’t strictly personal and he just wanted the best for his client.

“Hi my love. Daily update for you. I’m about to go on for the last show in Tokyo. I adore it here, wish you could be here with me. We’re heading out for some drinks with the crew after the show tonight. I think Jeff is bringing some people for press and all that. No shows for a few days so at least I can let loose tonight. Mostly a boring update today but I miss you! Talk soon sunshine.”

Y/N blinks the sleep from her eyes as she listens to Harry’s message, before properly looking at her phone. He would have sent that around 7 hours ago and her brow furrows slightly at the plethora of notifications on her phone. A quick glance at her notification screen shows a lot of missed calls, texts and twitter mentions. Y/N’s been with Harry long enough to know that the fastest way for her to get information is on Twitter.

So she clicks on the notification. Then she clicks on the link. And she immediately regrets it as her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach. Because it’s a video of Harry and a woman she doesn’t immediately recognise because all she can really focus on is the way his body is moulded against hers and the way their lips are attached and the way the video is over a minute long.

Harry and EmRata in Tokyo last night?!? Did he break up with Y/N??? You guys WHAT IS GOING ON?

Did you guys see the video?

Guys what the fuck?! I didn’t even know they broke up…

Y/N and Harry were together a few weeks ago? Did Harry cheat on her? He looks pretty drunk in the clip

#HarryStylesEmRata

#HarryY/NBreakUp

It’s tweet after tweet after tweet and Y/N sits upright on their bed, silent and numb for a moment. Then she promptly rushes to the bathroom and throws up.

She calls in sick from work and takes her time in the shower, turning up the heat and letting the water soothe her. It isn’t until after she’s changed and catches sight of her screen lighting up again and again that she cries. Sinks to the floor with a gut wrenching sob, clutching her chest as though her heart is actually going to break. Because she knows it’s him. And he’ll tell her he’s sorry. He’ll tell her he loves her and he was drunk and it meant nothing. But all Y/N can think to herself is “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Y/N isn’t prepared for it her to physically be in pain but she is. The tears flow down her cheeks and it’s almost never-ending as she finally has the courage to pick up her phone and read through her notifications. Some texts are from friends checking she’s alright, wondering if they broke up, one is from Gemma and about 40 are from Harry. He’s called her about 30 times, sent multiple text messages and left voicemails.

She opens Gemma’s text first, because it’s all she can really bare at the moment. The two women were close and Gemma knew just how much Y/N loved her brother.

(8:19am) Gem: I’m going to fucking kill him. Y/N I am so sorry for my idiot brother. Are you ok? Shall I come over?

(9:07am) Y/N: No don’t come over. I’ll be ok.

(9:08am) Gem: Did you talk to him? Please tell me you’re going to work it out.

Y/N bites her lip as she stares at Gemma’s message. She types and erases before finally sending something in response.

(9:12am) Y/N: We haven’t spoken. He’s called though. And, I don’t know if we can Gemma.

Y/N decides she can’t bring herself to listen to Harry’s voicemails so she opens his texts first.

(5:06am) H: Y/N I need to talk to you about what happened when I went out last night. You’re probably asleep but I’ve tried calling. Just… please call me when you get this.

(5:49am) H: Well there are videos on the fucking internet. Please don’t watch them before talking to me. You have to let me explain my love. Please hear me out.

(6:16am) H: Y/N I can’t tell if you’re asleep or whether you’re ignoring me. Baby I am so sorry. I had way too much to drink and Jeff arranged for her to be there and I… please call me back.

There were 6 other texts, which were all similar variations of the same thing before a final one about an hour ago.

(8:19am) H: I’m flying back home to talk to you. Stay in the apartment please.

Y/N knows that it’s almost 15 hours from Tokyo to London. She also knows that Harry is crazy enough to fly out of the country in the middle of tour. So she waits, wraps herself in blankets and lets the tears dry on her cheeks.

It’s close to midnight when Y/N hears the key turn in the lock and her heart stops. Because he’s here and she’s here and she isn’t sure she’s going to be able to get a word out without crying. Y/N keeps her eyes down as she hears him walk into the bedroom and drop his bags on the floor. She looks up at him slowly, taking in his red rimmed eyes and dishevelled appearance. He stays close to the doorway, his movement slow and calculated as though he’s scared she’ll run if he gets too close.

“Love, I am SO sorry.” Harry starts speaking, walking towards her slowly and Y/N’s eyes fill with tears.

“What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough for you?”

Y/N’s voice breaks off into a sob and Harry feels it like a knife to the chest. She hadn’t meant for that to be the first words out of her mouth but it’s what she’s feeling. Every insecurity she’d ever had, had just multiplied itself by 10 and come pouring out. Harry reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear and Y/N flinches at the contact.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I fucked up Y/N. Jeff invited her over as a good press opportunity and I had too much to drink and she kissed me.” He moves to sit beside her on the bed and Y/N brings her knees in to her chest.

“Harry. You kissed her back. I saw the video, you don’t need to lie to me. I… I can smell her perfume.” Y/N feels nauseous again and Harry looks at her with the most broken look on his face.

“Y/N it didn’t mean anything I swear. I was trashed and I got carried away.”

“Carried away? Harry, I saw the way you were holding her. You were kissing her like you were in love with her.”

“Y/N-”

“You kissed her like you kiss me.” It comes out almost as a whisper. Like a secret observation Y/N had been holding in.

“That’s not true. All I do is think about you Y/N. I’ve just missed you so much and I-”

“Sorry sorry hold on.” Y/N cuts him off with a watery, bitter laugh. “You missed me so much that your solution was to make out with another woman? Right. Got it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t love her. I love you. I flew here to tell you that. You’re my whole life. And I will spend the rest of mine trying to make this up to you. Because I can’t lose you Y/N.” He grabs onto her hand and squeezes and Y/N’s heart tells her to forgive him because she loves him. But her mind speaks before her heart catches up.

“I think you already have.”

A/N: Sorry guys :) Thinking of leaving this as a one shot...

Tags: @lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou

#harry styles #hslot #harrystyles #love on tour #harry styles au #harry styles fics #harry styles fic #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fan fics #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles x yn

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selfindulgentpixies · 9 months

Text

The hands that hold you

Part 7 of my SatoSugu x Gn!reader series is here! And yes it finally has an official name!

I'll put together a masterpost with links to all the parts and the title soon and have it linked in my pinned post. This is another soft chapter. There was more I was considering including but I really wanted to get this update out here. There's also art to go with it that will be at the end that you'll also be able to find on my art blog when I post it. For now enjoy a really fluffy chapter before things get rough again. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

CW: Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, chan is sometimes attached to reader's name. Polyamory though that's part of why you're here i'm sure

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It’s been roughly two weeks since the failed mission when you find yourself called into Yaga’s office. When you make your way in and sit in front of him he places a new ID in the middle of the desk and pushes it toward you. You blink at him in confusion before taking it. It’s just like your curren’t ID until you notice a key change. “Wait… I’m being promoted to second grade sorcerer?” You look at him, surprise pushing your eyebrows toward your hairline.

Yaga sighs but then smiles. “After that last mission, despite it ending how it did, Suguru and Satoru recommended you for promotion. Apparently you managed to impress them which is uncommon for the two of them”

You turn the ID in your hand before slipping into your pocket. “I suppose it is.”

Your hand is in your pocket thumbing over your new ID as you walk. In theory you should be happy about the promotion but you wanted to be sure you actually deserved it. You weren't sure you did honestly. You wonder if you should text either of your boyfriends about it. Your boyfriends… you feel your face heat up and you stop walking and lean against the hallway wall. You were not used to being able to think of them that way yet. It was so new. It was also the source of your current worry of whether or not you actually deserve the promotion. It felt a little too much like nepotism that the two of them endorsed your rise in grade.

Suddenly someone’s arm is resting on your shoulder and you and you don’t even need to look to see who it is. “Goodmorning, Haibara-kun.” You smile.

He leans forward with a grin. “Good morning! It’s good to finally see you up and out of bed.”Nanami and I were starting to wonder when you’d be joining us again. “

“You know how Yaga is about me. He honestly made me stay on bed rest longer than I needed to be. At least I think so.” You push off from the wall and from under Haibara’s arm.

“It’s good he cares so much though. It’s better to be safe than sorry by going out into the field before you’re ready,” He reasons.

“I suppose… but it was painfully boring. Especially when everyone else was busy. I hate staying still for so long. Even if it was kinda nice to catch up on playing games…”

“You were playing harvest moon or drawing most of the time when Nanami and I would come in and visit.”

“Speaking of.. Where is Nanami? Normally the two of you are like a set,” you prod despite knowing its potential to backfire.

Hairbara hums. “I’m actually about to go meet him. There’s a new bakery opening up he wants to go to. Wait, I know! How about you go with me. He’ll want to see that you’re up and moving around too.” And oh no he’s looking at you with those excited puppy dog eyes and you can’t find it in you to say no. Besides, you'd missed hanging out with your friends.

“Yeah okay, I’ll go with. As long as you don’t think Nanami will mind.”

Haibara gives a lil cheer and gives you a thumbs up. “Like I said, he’ll be glad to see you up and on your feet again.”

Which is how you found yourself in a cozy little bakery, decorated in warm and earthy tones. The smell of all sorts of baked goods floating through the air. “You know you didn’t have to pay for me, Nanami.”

He gives a small huff, his bangs coming loose and falling in his face so he has to push them back. “It’s fine. Think of it as a ‘glad you’re doing better’ gift.. Or something.”

Haibara pipes in. “See I told you he would be glad to see you.”

“That you did,” you say with a small laugh.

“Annnd now that you’re fully recovered, on the note of I told you so’s…” Haibara’s grin threatened to split his face.

“Oh no..” You feel your face heating already knowing what he’s going to say.

“So you’re really dating both Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai now? I knew they liked you!”

You groan. “Yeah yeah, you were right and I was oblivious.” You pointedly take a bite of your sandwich to try and spare yourself from saying more on the topic.

Nanami makes a small sound before speaking up. “I mean I get Geto-senpai but I’m surprised you like Gojo-senpai too. Is it just because they’re a package deal or-” You cut him off, a small flare of irritation sparking in your chest as well as another emotion you can’t quite place in the moment.

You swallow your bite a lil too soon so you can interject. “I like them both.”

It must be something in your tone or the look on your face, you’re not entirely sure, but Nanami rubs the back of his neck glancing away, suddenly looking abashed. “Sorry.”

“It’s-” you sigh “It’s fine. Just.. Don’t insinuate that I shouldn’t like Satoru just as much as I like Suguru okay?” Your shoulders sag slightly.

Nanami nods and Haibara looks between the two of you with a bit of confusion.”Am I missing something?”

You shake your head. “No everything is fine.” You pause. “Actually can I get your guy’s opinion on something?”

Both of them look at you. “Of course!” “Sure…”

You take your new ID out of your pocket and place it in the middle of the table. “I uh.. Got promoted. Apparently Suguru and Satoru made the recommendation. But it just feels kinda off since I’m dating them now. I’m not sure I actually deserve it-”

Nanami shakes his head. “I doubt that. Why would they recommend you for something that would put you in more danger if they didn’t think you could handle it?”

You blink. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I suppose that makes sense...”

Nanami folds his hands on the table next to his half eaten lunch. “Think about it. Being a second grade means that you’ll not only take on harder missions but will also be sent on some solo. If I cared about someone I wouldn’t recommend them to do dangerous things they couldn't handle for what.. A pay raise? Clout? If they recommended you be promoted that means they think you deserve it and more importantly can handle it.” Haibara is nodding along enthusiastically as Nanami talks.

You nod, your doubts about the situation lifting. “Yeah that.. Thanks, Nanami.”

He shrugs. “Just telling you what makes the most sense.”

“We should go do something to celebrate your promotion!”

“I mean we’re already out to eat…” You feel a bit bashful at the idea. “And Nanami-kun already paid for lunch for me because of my recovery.”

“Well then I can like.. Pay for ice cream ooor… we could go to an arcade! We should do something before you start getting sent out more.” Haibara suggests while giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You sigh and smile. Really how can you say no to those big brown eyes and that pout. Nobody had bigger golden retriever energy than your friend. “Yeah okay, we can go to an arcade and maybe get a treat after.”

Haibara cheers and pumps a fist into the air. It draws the attention of other patrons and Nanami lowers his head looking a bit embarrassed but still has the slightest smile curling his lips.

The arcade is all lights and chimes of game music, the chatter of teenagers filling the space. The three of you lose several hours there with even Nanami being full of his share of smiles and laughter. How often do the three of you get to just be young like this? Not often enough surely. Never enough. The three of you are contemplating where to go for icecream when you spot the claw machine. It was a nicer one, charged a bit more than the others. That’s not what caught your attention about it though.

You wander over to the machine and almost like they were meant for you to see there’s a white cat plush with a blue ribbon and a bunny that’s such a dark shade of purple it’s nearly black with a gold ribbon opposite it across the machine. You’re taking out your money without even thinking about it.

Nanami cuts into your thoughts. “You know it’s probably rigged right? In some of these machines the claw only properly grips things after so many attempts before it resets.”

You turn toward him with a pout. “I wanna try anyway.”

The blonde boy lets out a sigh. He knows that look on your face. You’ve already decided to throw your money away at this machine to get whatever it was you were fixated on. “What are you gonna try to win anyway?” He raises a brow when you suddenly look away from him bashfully and focus on putting in your money. “Well?”

“It’s two things actually” Oh so they were probably gonna be here for it a bit. And then you point at the white cat with blue eyes and bow then towards a similar dark purple rabbit with a gold bow.

He blinks slowly, gears turning in his brain leading him to a conclusion that Haibara voices. “They kinda remind me of Gojo and Geto-senpai!”

The silence is deafening between the three of you as you duck your head and send the claw toward the cat, the machine making a low buzz with the movement. The claw lowers and grips the cat by the bow, it raises, the machine buzzes lowly as it’s brought toward the chute and dropped in. You quietly lean down and take it out, and you hide your face in it.

“That’s exactly why you want them, isn’t it?” Haibara nudges your shoulder with a smile. At your slight nod he speaks again. “Well I think that’s super sweet of you.”

You glance at him for a moment, he doesn’t seem like he’s making fun of you, though being Haibara he’s never made fun of you in a way that would actually hurt. Just light teasing. His smile is earnest and you decide he means it. You hold the cat plush out to him. “Can you hold this while I win the other one?”

“Of course!” He takes the plush. He can understand why you wouldn’t want to set it down anywhere in here. It’s a pristine white.

The rabbit is harder to get unfortunately. You manage to pick it up several times but the claw always loses its grip or your aim is just slightly off. It’s been a half hour of attempts and you’re low on change and the energy around you is getting increasingly gloomy. Nanami hates being right sometimes. Which is why he gently nudges you aside.

“Here let me try for it.” He doesn’t look at you as he says this but he still catches how your face lights up out of the corner of his eye and can’t help but smile a little.

When he gets the plush on the first try and successfully drops it down the chute he is not expecting you to jump up and hug him. His cheeks go pink and he stands rigid. “H-hey-”

“Thank you thank thank you!” You chant as you hug him tight before letting go and dropping back down to retrieve the rabbit. Haibara is laughing at your antics and Nanami gives him a half hearted glare. Truly it was nice for them both to see you so excited after everything that had happened recently. You bounce on the balls of your feet and retrieve the cat plush from Haibara. “Sooo icecream?”

The sky is painted in brilliant hues of oranges and pinks as you and the other two first years finish ascending the steps to jujutsu tech, the summer heat having only broken somewhat by the time the three of you had to make the climb. You and Haibara collapse shoulder to shoulder on the ground. Nanami looks at the two of you as if to say ‘really?’ even though his bangs are clinging to his face with sweat and his face is flushed. “I really hate these stupid stairs.” You say this and there’s multiple reasons why that’s the case but at the moment it’s because of how much worse they make the heat seem.

The three of you rest in silence for several minutes before you speak up. “Thanks a lot for today you guys.. I had a lot of fun.” You stand and brush yourself off.

“Of course! We’ve all been so busy lately and you were stuck in bed so long we needed to get out and do something fun.” Haibara says as he hops to his feet. “Hopefully we’ll get a chance to do it again soon.”

“Preferably without you throwing your money at a rigged machine next time.” Nanami prods but you can tell from his voice he’s only teasing you. You stick your tongue out at him and shortly after you part ways from them.

It’s only after you’ve showered and placed a gift each in Satoru’s and Suguru’s rooms that you finally flop into your bed dramatically. You were exhausted. Today was the most active you’d been able to be in two weeks. You wished that even one of your boyfriend’s were on campus so you could curl up with one of them but they’d both been being sent on back to back missions after those first couple days of your recovery. Summer really was a terrible time for sorcerers. It didn’t seem fair that the two of them were tossed right back into the field.

You pout and roll onto your stomach. You only got to see either of them in passing when they’d stop in to check with you between missions so you could physically see they were both alright. Otherwise you’d just been texting or calling when they had the chance.

You perk up slightly when you hear a knock at the door, and now that you’re looking for it you feel Satoru’s energy. “You can come in ‘toru.” you’ve hardly finished speaking before your door slides open and Satoru enters your mostly dark room. He closes your door as an afterthought before making his way to you. Before you say anything else he’s flopping all of his lanky weight on top of you. “Satoru, you're too big for this! Ahh! Did you just get out of the shower?!” You try very hard to squirm away from him.

He ignores your protests and squishes you against the bed, his hair dripping water onto your face and pillow as he kisses your cheek obnoxiously and laughs when you try to shove his face away. “Stooop at least go dry your hair off first!”

“I don’t think I will~” he sing songs though there’s a slight tiredness to it. He squishes his cheek against yours, his wet hair rests against your face and pillow.

“Satoruuuuuu” You draw out his name in a whine.

He hums and props himself up on an elbow, just looking down at you with bright eyes. Even in the moonlight you can see he’s tired though. He sets something on your chest you hadn’t noticed him bring in before given how he’d immediately smothered you in his affection. “Found the gift you left for me.”

You feel your cheeks heat slightly as you scoot to sit up, catching the plush cat before it can tumble off your chest. “Do you like it?” You worry that the gifts you got for Satoru and Suguru would be seen as too childish despite your earlier determination and enthusiasm to get the plush toys.

Satoru begins to tangle his legs with yours and curl around you. “Of course. It means my sweet ___-chan is thinking of me while I’m gone.” He takes the plush cat and places it on the bed next to you as he drags you down. “It’s cute. Also liked the box of sweets you left with it.”

“..Did you eat the sweets already, Satoru?’

“I was hungry when I got back…”

You sigh heavily but smile a little. “Well, I’m glad you liked what I got for you.” you bask in his presence before you speak again. “Two things though, you’re going to make us both sick by laying in my bed with soaking wet hair, and two my bed really isn’t big enough for both of us. You’re going to fall over the edge and drag me with you.”

“What a romantic way to go then. Falling to our doom tangled together,” His tone is dramatic but there’s a boyish grin splitting his features, teeth bright in the moonlight. You swat him on the chest drawing an “Oof!” from him as well as a laugh. It makes warmth bloom in your chest.

“I mean it. We should either go to your room or to Suguru’s room so we’re there when he gets back. Also let me dry your hair if you’re too tired to do it.” Because honestly you’re pretty sure that's why he hasn’t done it yet.

He hums, seemingly considering your suggestions. “I suppose.. “ He pecks your lips before disentangling himself from you. Really he’d never turn down a chance to have you take care of him, and you do take care of him. You direct him to your blow dryer and you spend the next stretch of time drying his hair into a cloud of fluff, gently running your fingers through the strands and massaging his scalp. When his weight settles heavy against your legs from his place sitting with crossed legs on the floor you wonder if he managed to doze off. You click off the dryer and set it aside, continuing to card your fingers through his hair.

“You still with me?” Your voice is soft and filled with affection.

He nods and then yawns. “Yeah I’m awake.” He tips his head back to smile at you tiredly. “You sure we can’t just sleep in here?”

“My bed is way too small for you even if you were alone let alone with us both on it. So pick, your room or Suguru’s? I’m sure he’ll be glad to see us waiting for him even if he shoves us over to get in bed.”

Satoru huffs. “You mean shoves me. He’d never push you out of the way and you know it.”

You smile. “I know.” You lean down and rest your chin on top of Satoru’s head. “So what’s the verdict?”

“Suguru’s room is closer than mine,” he states sleepiness lacing his words.

You nod before sitting up straight and giving him a nudge to get up. You don’t point out how the difference in distance isn’t that much. Satoru stands and turns toward you with a long and languid stretch, his t-shirt riding up to expose his stomach. You poke his stomach making his muscles jump. When he glances down at you with narrowed eyes you blink up at him innocently.

You know what he’s about to do so you quickly swipe the cat plush before darting around him to the door. Unfortunately for you in the time it takes you to open the door he’s got you and the two of you tumble into the hall with him viciously attacking your sides with tickles. You squeal and kick trying to escape.

“And what are the two of you doing?” A tired voice yet still amused voice drifts over the two of you.

You’re still wheezing with giggles when both you and Satoru look up to see Suguru standing in the hall with a towel and a set of clean clothes over his arm. One can only assume he was on his way to the showers. His hair is half free of its bun and on the side where his hair is falling loose his face is smeared with grime.

“Suguru!” You cheer, or are you pleading for assistance?

“They’re being punished for the most grievous of crimes.” Satoru says all too seriously as he lets his face fall to your soft stomach drawing a grunt out of you.

“I poked his stomach while he was stretching.”

This makes the dark haired boy snort. “Guess you get to deal with the consequences then.” He says with a smile as he steps around the two of you.

“Noooo Suguru! Save me-” You’re cut off by another fit of laughter as Satoru resumes his assault.

Suguru throws you a wave over his shoulder, leaving you at Satoru’s mercy. Chuckling when after he turns a corner he hears Satoru yelp indignantly. “You bit me!”

“I-I” you gasp and giggle. “-I couldn’t breathe!” is the last thing he hears before he’s out of earshot.

—

When Suguru returns from his shower it’s to Satoru sprawled half on top of you across his bed while you sit up playing on your phone while propped up against his head board. Apparently Satoru had forgiven you for biting him if the way his face was pressed into your stomach was any indication.

You stop what you’re doing to greet him. “Feeling any better after your shower?” You were glad to see there was only minimal irritation on his face where the grime had been.

Suguru makes a noise that you interpret as confirmation. His hair is half wrapped in a towel as he makes his way into the room. He’s going for his blow dryer. At least he intended to dry his hair before bed unlike someone.

“Do you want me to do it?” You ask, you’re tired yourself but for fun reasons unlike either of your boyfriends.

Satoru whines, surprisingly awake. “Nooo then you have to move if you do that.”

“Or I can just sit on you,” Suguru says dryly.

“You wouldn't.”

“Oh I wouldn’t just like __-chan wouldn’t bite you.”

Satoru turns his head and narrows his gaze at Suguru for a moment before making a grumpy sound and rolling off you so he’s no longer sprawled across you and the bed, allowing you to shuffle to the edge. You repeat a similar process to what you had with Satoru, though Suguru’s hair takes more time since it’s longer and because you work some product into his hair. You lean down and kiss the top of his head once you’re done. “All set.”

Suguru turns on the floor and wraps his arms around your middle before pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Thank you,” the words are murmured gently against your sleep shirt and you card your finger through his hair. The soft moment is only somewhat broken by Satoru snoringloudly on the other side of the bed. Suguru rolls his eyes and then stands. He urges you toward the middle of the bed so he can flop in, slinging an arm across your middle. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, you know?”

“But I wanted to,” you half cut off at the end in a yawn.

You think Suguru sighs before he presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

You hum sleepily, not confirming nor denying. “Did you see your gift when you got back?”

“I did, it’s cute.” He smiles against your hair.

“Not too kiddish of a gift?” you ask shyly.

Suguru squeezes you with the arm he slung across you earlier. “Not at all. Definitely helps prove my point that you’re too sweet. Saw the stuffed cat too when you and Satoru were flailing around in the hall. So you got us matching gifts. Did you get yourself one?”

You shake your head. “No, just for the two of you. I gave the machine enough money as it was.”

“Hmm?”

“Ah, I uh won them from a claw machine game today while I was out with Nanami and Haibara. I got the cat pretty easy but you can ask Haibara and Nanami how well getting the rabbit went. Nanami felt so bad for me after a half hour of failed attempts that he actually won it…” you trail of embarrassed. You’re not sure why you admitted that.

“Went to all that trouble to make sure I got a gift too.” He kisses your forehead and gives you a moment to react and close your eyes before kissing your eyelids, then gently kissing your lips which you reciprocate, smiling into the kiss.

“Of course, you deserve it.” You glance away from him and he feels warmth swell in his chest. He gives you another gentle kiss before shuffling down the bed slightly so he can lay his head on your chest above your heart, listening to how it beats rabbit quick at his actions. He falls asleep like that, not even caring that it leaves his feet partially hanging off the bed. You absently card your fingers through his soft hair as you lay there, waiting for sleep to take you as well.

Art by me of the stuffed animals reader won. My art account is @rossithepixie

___

And here it is! I hope you guys enjoyed this one. It was getting pretty long and I really wanted to get out the next chapter since it's been a couple weeks because I got too sick to write very much. I've already started on chapter 8 so hopefully as long as my health holds there won't be as much of a delay.

Tag list: @strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @icy-spicy @sleezzsister @moonsua1 @yuuuumii @yokaimoon @chibiizzy @porridgesblog @suhmie @defacatestenderly

#gn!reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader x suguru geto #gojo x reader x geto #jjk x gn!reader #gojo x gn!reader #geto x gn!reader #rossi writes

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softpascalito · 1 year

Text

javier peña x f!dea!reader - we got your back.

Summary: You work as a new DEA agent alongside Peña and Murphy. A not-so-kind colleague reveals more about you than you would like. Protectiveness and fluff ensues.

aka

my friend wrote me some hurt/comfort headcanons and i turned them into a small something :)

Relationships: Javier Peña x FemReader (can be read as romantic or platonic)

WC: ~4200

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Canon-Typical Violence, No beta we die like Colonel Carrillo, Family Issues, They arent specified but reader is implied to be from a dysfunctional family, Steve is here too

AO3 LINK // PART 2 // PART 3 (on tumblr)

Notes:

hello!

there is a mention of the readers dysfunctional family in this story. if you relate to that in any way, please always remember that you are worthy of healthy love. it exists. seek help or advice if you need it. toxic environments arent forever. if you need to talk, my inbox is always open.

i havent written anything in a while and english is not my first language so please be kind and leave a comment if you like it <3 _______________________________

Chapter 1

You had been in Bogotá for less than three months and while the past weeks had been filled with too little sleep, too much coffee and the daily fear of being targeted by a sicario , you had developed somewhat of a routine in the new environment. This was in large parts due to work at the Embassy. With Bogotá traffic being, well, Bogotá traffic, there'd been several days where you'd just bunked down on your office floor instead of going home to your bed which eventually had led to both Javier and Steve and now you always keeping a spare pillow and blanket around the office to make it slightly more comfortable. The most homey part about the Embassy however, were the people. Not just the two agents you were assigned to assist, hell, not even just the DEA department. Everyone helped each other out wherever they could. Being a gringo in Colombia with a drug lord promising a nice sum of money for your head was impossible to bear by yourself. And only almost impossible to bear with a bunch of people who were in the same position as you. You got along with almost everyone at the embassy. Almost everyone . The harsh contrast to your other, kind colleagues was a DEA secretary: Raquel Vázquez. She had been throwing obstacles and hateful glances your way as soon as you had arrived. You weren't even sure why she hated you so much. She was the wife of another agent and as spouses were not allowed to work anywhere but the embassy, she was stuck with her desk job, spending the day signing off letters, faxing intel to Washington and her favorite pass-time: taunt you for whatever she could come up with. “Hey, are you even listening?” Steve is crouched down in front of your desk and waving his hand through your line of sight, trying to grab your attention. Almost immediately there is a dramatic, loud sigh from the other side of the room:” How do you expect her to function on a job like this if she can't even manage to function within her own family?” Raquel snaps before rolling her eyes and pretending to look at the documents in front of her. Your head practically whips around as your brain processes what she just said. How the hell does that bitch know about your family situation? “I- I need to get a refill,” you mumble as you get up abruptly and grab your coffee mug, your old chair screeching as it is pushed back. Suddenly you're feeling a lot smaller as you navigate your way through the desks and flee to the small kitchen down the hall. You almost collide with Javier, who is just getting back from a meeting. You squeeze past him, not even giving him a chance to tease you. If one more person gets on your nerves, you are surely going to cry and you do not need that in front of your colleagues. Least of all in front of Raquel.

“Is everything alright with her?” Javier asks as he walks over to Steve, who is still kneeling in front of your desk and staring at the doorway you just left through. He slowly stands up and turns his attention towards the secretary, casually leaning over your now abandoned desk with crossed arms as his angry gaze bores into Raquel's skull. His eyes not leaving her, he turns towards Javi:” Do you know Y/N's family?” He asks bluntly. Javier seems somewhat taken aback by the question. He ponders for a few moments, his furrowed eyebrows forming a deep line on his forehead as he slowly shakes his head:'' I don't think she's ever mentioned them. Didn't come up. Why?” Steve's gaze is still on the secretary, knowing that she is listening in to every and each of their words:” Raquel mentioned them.” He raises his voice slightly:” How did you put it? Dysfunctional ?” Javi clenches his jaw as he turns to the woman as well. With a few quick strides, he approaches her desk and almost slams his hands down on it.

“Señora Vázquez.” His voice is barely more than an angry, deep grumble. The woman jumps slightly as she looks up at him as he towers over her. Before she can even open her mouth, he continues:” Don't you think the higher ups would be interested in the fact that you prioritize the private life of your coworkers over your actual work?” At the implication of his words, a panicked look appears on Raquel's features:” I don't know what you're talking about.” Giving her a warning look, Javier turns on his heels and follows you, muttering a “gonorrea de fea” under his breath.

You are standing in the small kitchen space, your elbows resting on the counter as you hold your head in your hands. The empty cup that had served as your makeshift alibi is standing next to you, forgotten. You hear the footsteps just in time to scramble back up and clutch the empty mug in your hands as you try and put on a nonchalant face. Judging by the way Javier is looking at you, you're not doing a very good job. He has been leaning against the doorframe and is now slowly stepping towards you:” I didn't mean to startle you.” You notice he has activated what Steve and you always call his “puppy face”. There is a softness in his brown eyes that you know is reserved for those closest to him as he leans against the counter next to you. ��I- It's fine I just …” You stumble over your own words, too upset to find a quick excuse for your behavior and lie to him. The truth is, you're not entirely sure you want to lie to him. Not when he is standing so close to you, looking at you with that stupid, heart-melting look in his eyes. “I heard about what happened,” Javi interrupts your rather unsuccessful attempt at explaining yourself. So whatever excuse you have ready, I don't need to hear it.

He gently reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping closer and taking the empty mug out of your hands. He notices that it's empty. He doesn't mention it. Instead, he reaches around you to place it on the counter before gently pulling you into his embrace. Javier isn't really a hugging person. Hell, you aren't either. But he holds you close, gently stroking your back and you feel whatever resolve you had left about allowing him to comfort you evaporating into thin air.

“You know Steve and I always got your back, right?” He mumbles, his voice low. You can feel his lips on your forehead as he ever so gently places a small kiss on it. You know he is expecting an answer but you feel as if opening your mouth will also open the floodgates so you simply nod your head. He sighs softly:” Good, good. I also want you to know that if you need someone, you can come to me anytime. Day, night, fucking lunchbreak, I dont care.”

Leaning back just enough so he can see you, Javi gently lifts your chin up with his hand, forcing you to lock eyes with him to make sure you can see that he actually means his words.

“I'm here for you, cariño and I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage to breathe out, your heart bursting with love and appreciation for the man in front of you. Smiling, satisfied, Javier presses another small kiss to your temple before letting go of you to pour you a new coffee. He adds a large splash of milk, just as you like it and insists on carrying it back to your desk for you. As you make your way through the hallway, just before you walk through the large door that leads into the DEA office, he stops in his tracks, turning to you with a smirk on his face.

“You also know that I'll put everything into getting Raquel fired if she ever bothers you again, don't you?” A laugh escapes you before you can help it and you gently nudge him to go on:” Im counting on it.”

You could swear it's the biggest grin you've ever seen on his face. _________________________________

thank you for reading, you lovely people. and a huge thank you to my friend hannah who wrote me the headcanons that i made into this small story. she is the true genius behind it and an absolutely amazing person, ily <3 comments or feedback are always very appreciated and truly make my day <3

#javier peña #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #narcos fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña imagine #pedro pascal #pedrito #narcos #javi peña #javier peña x dea!reader #javier peña x female reader

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bluehoodiewoozi · 1 year

Text

Dreamers

Lee Seokmin (DK) x fem!reader

Genre: mostly fluff, with a hint of anxiety

Word Count: 10.9k

Wanings: food mentions. adult language. a few parts may come off as suggestive, but not really. y/n is an environmentalist but not vegan.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Sleepwalking is a nasty issue. You find yourself in the correct building but wrong apartment, sharing a room with a ridiculously cute boy who seems to find it amusing.

Note: This one goes out to all of my ambitious girlies! Keep working towards your dreams!

The moment you stepped onto the evening bus you regretted the decision.

With a bright smile, Sunny greeted you, rushing to move her bags into her lap so you could take the seat next to her, all while never once taking her eyes off you. Her brows rose in a questioning manner. You cursed under your breath as your neighbour’s usual warm smile morphed into a look of disbelief when you sank into the seat next to her.

With a sigh, you raised a hand to silence her. “I know.”

But she didn’t take the hint. “When was the last time you slept? Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Why do you keep asking questions you already know the answer to?” you whined and hugged your bag close to your chest. “I’m sure you heard me showering at 3 am.”

“The bags under your eyes aren’t supposed to make it look like you have a black eye,” she told you as if she hadn’t heard you at all, still eyeing you in worry. “How much did you sleep? You look worse than Jeonghan when he thought I was mad at him.”

“Does it matter?” You huffed. “At least I’m getting some rest.”

“I think it only counts as rest if you actually get 8 hours of sleep every once in a while,” she countered with a snicker, “which, by the looks of it,” she gave you a once-over, followed by a disappointed a sigh, “you haven’t had in years.”

“I sleep just fine. I’m healthy, I am productive,” you defended and tightened your hold on your bag. “Sleep is for the weak anyway.”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how you’re friends with me but not Jihoon. Your mentality is almost identical.”

“Listen, somebody has to do the work. And unlike some, I’d actually like my work to amount to something bigger than an average paycheck that barely covers my bills. I have ambitions. I want to make the world a better place.”

“Honey, at this rate you’re not gonna live long enough to see your ambitions come to life,” she grumbled under her breath and linked your arms. “It’s okay to rest every once in a while. Take a week off from work and actually just do something fun for a change.”

You grimaced. “I’d rather not. Messes with my groove.”

Sunny had no words left to say. She stared at you with a wide mouth for a moment before sputtering, “How– How are we friends?”

“Fate brought us together so you could nag me at all possible hours,” you joked, looking out the window now to avoid missing your stop. “But seriously, I don’t need to rest. I love my job and my colleagues and I’m making a change.”

“You should at least go to sleep early tonight.”

“Can’t. I have a big report due next week and I don’t want to miss my deadlines.”

Her gaze hardened immediately as she cursed, “Why, you little–”

“Hey!”

“I’m just worried about you,” she mumbled through a pout just as your bus arrived at your shared destination. With a begrudging sigh, she unlinked your arms and gave you an encouraging pat on the shoulder as the two of you stood up and walked over to the door “Well, I guess it’s your life. But I swear–” she pointed at your face, eyes squinted in a glare; she interrupted herself mid-sentence, “no, I vow that if you collapse under the stress, I’ll personally go and hand in a letter of resignation in your name.”

You scoffed at her empty promises, smiled, and stepped off the bus. You had no doubt you would be just fine and she was overreacting over nothing. She couldn’t wrap her mind around your work ethic and goals – she was built of an entirely different wood.

Then again, you couldn’t deny you often felt a little jealous of her. The nagging feeling hit once again when you looked up to find Jeonghan standing at the gate of your building, his smile widening the closer Sunny and you got to him. You envied that she had found – through trials and tribulations, you’d admit – a perfect man to brighten her days while you had no time to even contemplate romance.

“How was your day, my beautiful lady?” Jeonghan greeted your neighbour with a sweet kiss on her forehead before taking her bag and leading her inside with a hand on her back. He didn’t forget to offer you a welcoming smile and a friendly “good evening” as well, both of which you returned.

“Are you going to the 5th floor tonight?” you asked them as the three of you trudged up the stairs and they made no effort to walk to her apartment.

Sunny nodded. “It’s movie night and he has the bigger TV.”

Jeonghan let out a loud ‘ha!’ and grinned at her victoriously. “So you admit it. My TV’s better than yours!”

“That’s–” She sighed deeply. “That is not the point right now–”

“How is it not?”

Unable to continue watching their lovers’ quarrel, you hummed and waved them goodbye before promptly unlocking your apartment, walking in, and quickly locking it again as if their bickering or cheesy nicknames could otherwise follow after you.

You had far more important things to do, after all.

With a tired sigh, you warmed up some of last night’s leftovers and opened your laptop. The familiar Times New Roman font on your screen prompted a soft groan, but still you squared your shoulders and got to work.

If you were quick, you’d get this done way before the deadline. Maybe you could even go to work in the morning with a nearly finished report! You smiled at the thought.

But life doesn’t always go as expected.

You thought you were old enough to know this fact already. After all, when had life ever followed your expectations? It seemed to enjoy throwing curve balls right at your head.

You woke up with a splitting headache at 7 am, an hour before your usual alarm. It was strange – you concluded so as you stared at the time on your phone through a squint. With a soft huff, you let the phone drop back onto the mattress and your head onto the pillows.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you then heard a voice.

Your eyes snapped open. There was someone in your room.

The voice sounded apologetic as it continued in a whisper, “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make any noise. Sorry. Let me just get my shirt and–”

You sat up abruptly to stare at the intruder – a handsome familiar-looking man shuffled around the walk-in closet. Worst of all – he was shirtless. You dreaded to think of what had happened the night before.

“Who– Who are you?” you stuttered out, instinctively lifting the blanket higher against your torso despite the fact that you were fully clothed. “Why are you in my apart–”

Then it hit you. The worst of the worst realities.

“Holy shit, this isn’t my apartment!” you screamed and jumped out of bed to apologise profusely. “I’m so so sorry! I had no idea! I don’t how–”

“Hey, hey!” The man – now wearing a crispy white button-up shirt – walked out of the closet hurriedly, a worried smile on his face as he rushed to comfort you with a gentle hand on your back, leading you to sit back on the bed. “It’s okay.” He let out a laugh. “I was going to let you sleep for a while more. It’s okay.”

You had no clue how he could be so calm about this. What the hell happened last night?!

You stuttered. You sputtered. You gasped for air like a fish out of the water. You were on the verge of a panic attack at 7 am in the morning and he was smiling, all while patting and rubbing your back like it was the most natural thing.

“Why am I here?” you eventually managed to breathe out. You hated to admit that his calm and friendly nature was helping you adjust to the situation.

He raised a brow, his soothing movements stopping. “I was hoping you could answer that.”

When you made no move to do so and only offered him a puzzled look, he shrugged. “I woke up to someone trying to unlock my door at 2 am. Almost cried, actually, but then I heard a knock and Mingyu telling me to open the door, so I did and you…” He gestured widely to his room. “Well, you came in and went straight to bed as if it was your own home. I didn’t know what to do but Mingyu and I figured you needed to rest.”

You stared at him with a dropped jaw. “You didn’t think to call the police?”

“Well,” he grimaced, “I was going to but you really looked like you needed to sleep.” He gave you a worried look, inspecting your face. “You still do, actually. Do you sleep at all, like, outside of my bed?”

“I sleep plenty,” you scoffed and got out of the bed, wiping your face with your sleeves as if to rid it of any evidence that might suggest otherwise. With an awkward look, you bowed and began heading out. “Well, thank you for… your hospitality. I’ll get going. I’m sorry for bothering you. This won’t happen again.”

Before he could say another word, you slammed the door shut behind you and began heading… where were you heading?

You looked around the hallway. It was still your building. You could recognise these hallways even in your sleep. A quick glance informed you that you had just stepped out of apartment 1D – the apartment directly below yours.

You groaned as the realisation sank in that you could never visit the first floor without feeling awkward again. With a sigh, you headed up the stairs to your own apartment.

“Isn’t that Seokmin’s apartment?” Sunny pointed out when you told her of your horrible adventure on the bus home from work later that day. She frowned a little as she tried to recall exactly who lived there.

“Whoever it was, at least it wasn’t Jihoon.” You shuttered to even think about it.

Sunny grimaced. “Yeah, I’d be bailing you both out of jail right about now.” She then shrugged. “Yeah, I think that’s Seokmin’s apartment. He really just let you stay the night there?”

“Apparently?” You wanted to laugh at the insanity of the situation. “I have no recollection of what happened or how I ended up there. The last thing I remember is working on my report in my kitchen and then waking up in a shirtless man’s apartment.”

“Shirt–” She almost broke her neck at the speed she turned her head to look at you with wide eyes. “He was shirtless when you woke up?!”

“He was getting dressed for work–”

“Well, is he hot?!”

You had never wanted to throw someone out of a moving vehicle so much before. “Is this what you’re focusing on right now? I’m going through a crisis here!”

“Yeah but–”

“You literally have a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, but–” She paused mid-excuse and nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Right. You have a point there.”

“How did I possibly end up in his apartment at night without remembering it?” you contemplated, leaning your head back against the seat. “I can’t think of a single explanation.”

“It is weird,” Sunny hummed in agreement as the bus rolled to your stop. The two of you got off.

“Where’s Jeonghan?” you wondered in surprise upon not seeing him all the way up to the second floor.

Sunny shrugged, still deep in thought about your predicament. “I don’t know. Probably causing trouble with Junhui again. Possibly getting on Joshua’s or Hyesoo’s nerves. Maybe he stole someone’s mail or took the hinges off someone’s door. Not my problem.”

You could only stare at her in absolute wonder. “He’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s his own person.” She then clapped her hands together in revelation, stopping in her steps in the middle of the hallway. “Didn’t you say you used to sleep-walk as a kid? I swear you mentioned it over coffee once.”

You nodded. “Yeah, but it hasn’t happened in a literal decade.”

“Who’s to say it didn’t happen again last night?” she suggested with a shrug. “By the way, do you wanna come over for coffee and cake? Jeonghan bought one on sale because the expiration date is today, but it’s sort of giant.”

After contemplating for a moment (more of a debate really, won by the grumbling of your stomach), you agreed and followed her into her apartment.

As the two of you walked into the kitchen, she continued, “All I’m saying is that there’s a lot going on in your life right now and maybe it all worked together – the stress, the lack of sleep, you get the gist – and now you’re sleepwalking again.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“You should see a doctor about that,” Jeonghan suggested. You jumped in your spot before finding him sitting at the dining table, fully focused on assembling a lego set. He continued without a care in the world, “Sleepwalking can be a serious issue.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

He finally glanced up to offer you an amused look and a chuckle. “I’m her boyfriend. Where else would I be?”

“I invited her over for coffee and cake,” Sunny informed him with a kiss on his cheek. “Play nice.”

“Yes, princess,” he spoke in reply before turning back to you. “But I would really go to the doctor if I was you. If it’s bad enough that you wake up in someone else’s apartment, it’s bad enough to warrant a doctor’s visit.”

You felt yourself pale, your blood running both ice cold and lava hot. “How– Why do you know that?”

“It’s the talk of the town,” he joked before waving his joke off. “Just kidding. I met Seokmin on my way to the store earlier and he told me. He seemed worried about you.”

“So it is Seokmin!” Sunny cheered victoriously. “I knew it! I told you!”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Good job.”

“Thanks.”

You sat down at the table and slumped in the chair. “But if I’m sleepwalking, why did I go to his apartment?”

“Isn’t it right below yours?” Jeonghan pointed out like it was obvious. “Asleep you probably thought you were going to your own apartment. You just mixed up the floors.”

“So,” you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose before meeting his eyes and maintaining eye contact, “what you’re suggesting is that I fell asleep–”

“Yes.”

“–in my apartment–”

“Mhm.”

“–then left my apartment for some reason–”

“That much seems obvious.”

“–and then went to Seokmin’s apartment–”

“For some reason, yes.”

“–one level below my own?”

Eyes widening, he hummed at the slight error in the logic. “You do have a point. Why would you leave your own apartment to go to your apartment?”

“My head hurts just listening to this,” Sunny informed the two of you while serving the cake. As a slice fell over on a plate she quickly assigned to Jeonghan, she suddenly suggested, “What if you thought you were going on a walk and then returned home?”

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he began recounting, “So, what you think happened is that she fell asleep–”

“I’m going to kick the both of you out if you start again,” his girlfriend declared all of a sudden, pointing a knife in his direction. “I’m serious.”

“It is a reasonable guess though,” you decided as Sunny placed a plate of cake in front of you. “I do love going on walks when I’m stressed.”

“Then–”

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. You watched in mild amusement as Sunny and Jeonghan silently argued over who should open the door and if they should open the door at all. Eventually, to your surprise, Jeonghan relented and got up with a slight groan. The moment he was out of the kitchen, Sunny stole his seat across from you.

“I think the worst part is that I don’t know how to face him again, like ever,” you started the conversation again while taking a bite of the cake. “It was so awkward.”

“Speaking of awkward,” Jeonghan announced and led the newest guest into the apartment. The now familiar feeling of both ice and lava in your veins made a new appearance as you recognised the visitor. Your spoon dropped back on the table.

Seokmin offered you a friendly smile and a wave. “Ah, so that’s where you are. I tried your door but no one answered so I wondered if I had the wrong place.”

“You–” That was the only syllable you managed to voice. Your brain was scattered, filled with pictures of the awkward morning as well as a single fluttering butterfly carrying an obnoxious sign that said ‘he cares’. You gulped.

Thankfully, Sunny stepped in. She smiled brightly and ushered Seokmin to take a seat while she found an extra plate.

“I wasn’t going to come and bother anyone–” he tried to reject the offer of cake, but failed to. He was too friendly for his own good – just like the rumours around the building often said. He sat in the seat Sunny had preoccupied just seconds ago, right across from you, and smiled at her. “Well, if you insist.”

“What can I do?” Jeonghan sighed and theatrically looked away as he started his monologue. “Everyone loves my girlfriend so much. How can I possibly keep her–”

“Stop being melodramatic and come eat, idiot,” Sunny laughed and took the seat next to you. “So, Seokmin, what brings you to my friend over here?”

Seokmin opened his mouth to reply before turning to you and softly asking, “Is it okay to talk about it here?”

Sunny chuckled. “About her waking up in your apartment? Go ahead. I think everyone in the building knows already.”

“Oh.” He offered you an awkward-looking smile. “Well, sorry about that. I only mentioned it to Mingyu and Jeonghan but I guess– Nevermind. I just wanted to tell you to not worry about it.” His smile brightened, genuine and full of warmth all of a sudden. “We all have rough days – and rough nights – and I’m just glad you got some rest.”

“I have one question,” Jeonghan raised his arm before asking, “where did you sleep?”

“Me?” Seokmin shrugged. “The sofa. There was a woman in my bed.”

You somehow felt both worse and better than before. At least you knew he didn’t hold a grudge – after all, he seeked you out just to tell you it had been fine – but at the same time: you made this poor man sleep on the sofa instead of his objectively comfortable bed.

“I’m so sorry–”

“I said it’s fine,” he laughed and reached out to pat your hand. “I really don’t mind. You looked like you were sleeping very well. But–” he tilted his head in thought, a slight frown appearing, “–is it possible you were sleepwalking? You didn’t react at all last night, to anything. You just… brushed past us like we weren’t even there. I don’t know if you even had your eyes open.”

Sunny all but slammed her spoon on the table to give you a haughty look. “Yep. Told you. You were sleepwalking.”

You frowned. “I guess it’s possible.”

“Should I…” Seokmin scrunched up his nose in thought. “Should I maybe keep a look out in case this happens again?”

Immediately you shook your head. “No. No need. It was a one-time thing. A fluke. It was nothing. Won’t happen again.” In your attempts to not look at him, you happened to eye the clock. Your jaw dropped. “Oh. I should go home. I have–”

“–a report due in a week and deadlines to meet,” Sunny finished for you with a laugh. “I know, I know. Go.”

Jeonghan spoke up as well, “Take the plate and another slice of cake before you go. I want to know you eat at least a little between your work.”

You did as you were told and made your escape without another word, not even a goodbye to Seokmin.

You had no time to feel guilty or consider that your heart fluttered a little at the thought of him coming to find you. Once again, you buried your feelings into lines of Times New Roman in your report.

“Oh, you come here too?” you heard his voice just two days later at the grocery store.

It was a little surprising to find him there: the store was a good mile further from the one closest to your building. Like a startled owl, you stared and blinked at him in the cereal aisle.

As you opened your mouth to respond, he chuckled and looked away at the cereals. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk to me. I just needed to get some Fruit Loops and figured I might as well say hi.” He placed the cereal in question into his basket and offered you one more friendly smile and a playful wave. “So, hi!”

“Hi,” you managed to drag out as you lifted your hand in a wave.

With a chuckle, he turned and headed away to the next aisle. You thought you were free from him for the day.

But alas: you found him again when you went to get eggs. He seemed to be contemplating between two brands. You tried your best to go unnoticed as you searched for your favourite local free range brand. To you dismay, he stood right in front of the eggs you seeked.

“Excuse me,” you started and tapped his shoulder when he didn’t seem to notice.

He smiled upon recognising you. “Yeah?”

“Could you move? I want those eggs.”

“The expensive ones?” He raised an eyebrow and handed you a carton. “They’re almost triple the price of the store brand.”

“But they’re free range and locally sourced. You should try them,” you explained with the slightest bit of enthusiasm before placing eggs into your cart and walking away in the direction you thought him least likely to follow.

You truly thought you were free of him when you went to the checkout, but once again, as if tasked by god himself to be wherever you went, Seokmin was in front of you in queue, meticulously placing his items on the counter. As he turned to put away his basket, his eyes found yours and a bright smile appeared on his face. “Oh, it’s you again!”

“It’s me again,” you replied with an awkward laugh.

“Are you leaving too?” he wondered while fishing his bag for his wallet. When you nodded, his eyes lit up. “Do you need a ride home?”

Your eyes widened. “A ride?”

Why was he offering you a ride home? Why was he so friendly with you at all? You had broken into his apartment – in the eyes of the legal system anyway – and he was smiling at you like you were a beloved friend.

“Of course. We should stick together, no? We’re neighbours, after all– Hold on,” he interrupted himself to respond to the cashier, “Yes, by card please.Thank you.”

“You might have to wait a moment then,” you finally relented when he turned to you once again, eyes resembling a puppy. His smile widened at your words and he nodded.

The ride home was short and awkward. You greatly feared he would try to retaliate for the emotional damage you might’ve caused by sleeping in his apartment. To your relief, he did not such thing and only continued cheerfully chattering.

“–but I feel like a dog would be too much work, you know? I love dogs but I don’t have that kind of time.” He offered you a glance. “Do you have any pets?”

You scrunched up your face in thought as the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot of the building. “I have a cactus.”

“... Does it have a name?”

Eager to not disappoint, you blurted out the first name that came to mind: “Bertha.” You shut your eyes in shame.

But as the two of you got out of his small red car, he laughed. “Bertha? Sounds lovely. Is she high-maintenance?”

“Very.”

“Yeah?”

You decided you liked his laughter and the bright smile that came with. “Easier than a dog though.”

He laughed louder at that and handed you your grocery bags. “I bet. Maybe I should get a cactus too.”

“I highly recommend,” you chuckled, finding his laughter contagious. “It’s very fulfilling to watch it do absolutely nothing all-year-round.”

When the two of you got into the hallway, he paused in front of the staircase. As you were about to ask him about it, he asked, “Do you need help with your bags?”

“No, I’m–”

“They look heavy.” He frowned before holding up a single finger, jogging over to his door, dropping his singular bag in front of it, and running back to you. Before you could formally protest, he grabbed the bags from your hands and began the journey up the stairs. When you froze in your spot, he turned to ask, “Well, aren’t you coming? Or were you going to sleep at mine again?”

Your face burned at the teasing comment. You decided following after him was the lesser evil.

“There we go,” he cheered when the two of you reached your door. He rubbed his hands against his thighs a few times, awkwardly like a schoolboy, before smiling and waving goodbye. “I guess this is goodbye for the day. It was nice talking to you.”

You didn’t manage to even thank him before he was already halfway down the stairs. Maybe you made him as nervous as you made him. As you went to sleep that night, you replayed the interaction over and over again in your head, failing to hide a smile at the memory.

The valley of the mattress had a hold over you. You had never been so comfortable waking up – well, with the exception of maybe once or twice.

The pillows were the perfect temperature, the blanket hugged you just right, the big teddy bear you hugged to your chest smelled fresh out of the washing machine–

“Since when do I have a teddy bear?” you grumbled in confusion and pried your eyes open. You felt all blood rush away from your face as you looked at the bear – light brown with a baby blue bow, its eyes shining up at you.

You had never even seen this bear before.

Cursing under your breath, you glanced around the room. You were back in your very own personal hell full of flowing beige curtains, white unfamiliar sheets, and teddy bears: the hell known as Seokmin’s apartment.

The realisation brought tears of frustration to your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them loose. It was barely 8 am but you were already on the verge of crying – what a joke.

Wiping your eyes, you all but slammed the bear down on the bed (you’ll never admit you did feel a little bad about it seconds later and gave it a little pat on the head) and stood up. You stumbled out of the bedroom and towards the front door.

As you reached for the doorknob – the final obstacle on your journey out of hell –, you heard his voice, sweet as honey like always, “Oh, you’re not going to stay for breakfast?”

You froze.

“I made extra waffles and all,” he added, sounding a little dejected. You didn’t have the heart to tell him no, so you sighed softly and turned around to give him a tight-lipped not-quite-genuine smile. His own grin brightened at the sight. “Is that a yes? You’ll stay?”

“Only for the waffles,” you lied and took a seat at his table.

He laughed and placed a plate of fresh food in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “Not because you don’t want me to feel bad?”

“No,” you grabbed a fork and began filling it with food, “I just don’t like food waste.”

“Oh, right! Minghao said you work for an environmental company. That sounds cool.”

“Yeah?” You swallowed your food. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

He cleared his throat as though the question had caught him by surprise and he was too shy to say. After a moment of silence, he bashfully admitted, “I’m a music teacher at primary school.”

You blinked in surprise. “A music teacher?”

“Well, I wanted to be a singer– a musical actor, actually,” he explained, his voice fluctuating in volume and his ears bright red, “but I’m a little too shy to audition. So I just stuck with teaching others to sing.”

“That’s so cool though,” you told him with a smile. “Are you good at singing?”

His ears seemed to turn an even deeper red. “My friends think so but I don’t know. I think there’s still a lot of room for improvement.”

“Then why not audition? You only live once.”

He seemed thoughtful all of a sudden, watching your increasingly awkward self. You were just about ready to apologise for your possibly intrusive question when he softly asked, “Why not rest and live a little? You only live once, right?”

The question felt awfully pointed and you didn’t fail to let him know with a glare.

“I’m serious,” he declared, his lips pouting a little as if he was actually upset at your lack of self-care. “Whenever I see you, you’re always rushing somewhere. The only person you seem to be friends with is Sunny, and maybe Jeonghan by association.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself. “I’m also friends with Minghao–”

“He barely even leaves his apartment. He doesn’t count.”

“He counts!”

“Do I count?”

“Of course you–” Your eyes widened as did his smile.

“We’re friends now!” he declared while pointing an accusatory finger at you, his voice raising in excitement. You began to protest but he was having none of it. “No take-backs! We’re friends – you just said so!”

“I didn’t actually–”

“Nope. No. We’re friends.” He narrowed his eyes at you, his smile never fading. “Or do you just sleep in random guys’ beds?”

You wanted to protest, you really did, but there’s only so much you can say to defend yourself against such accusations. Besides, his bright smile at your defeated nod could’ve won awards.

Accidentally waking in his apartment didn’t end. No. In fact, it somehow got worse.

Once every week quickly turned into once every few days. You were tempted to start keeping track of how often you woke up in your own bed but one could assume the numbers wouldn’t be too impressive.

You grew accustomed to the smell of his detergent and the smell of breakfast in the mornings. Was this what it might’ve been like to be in a relationship?

“How come you’ve never dated anyone?” he wondered once over breakfast.

You shrugged. “I don’t have the time.”

“Too busy saving the world?” he teased like he often did. Over time you stopped finding it annoying (perhaps because he sounded almost genuinely proud of you every time he said it).

“I assume you don’t get a lot of dates either,” you bit right back between bites of pancakes.

He seemed to be taken aback by your observation. “What makes you think that?”

“You sleep with a teddy bear, Seokmin,” you deadpanned.

He pouted. “Fluffy is a premium sleep companion.”

You laughed. “Is he?”

“You steal him every other night!” he accused with a chuckle. “I’m sure you know how great he is by now.”

“He’s truly a– What did you say? A premium sleep companion?”

“That’s what the label said when I got him.”

“Maybe I should invest in a bear too,” you wondered thoughtfully between bites.

Seokmin raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you?”

“No ti–”

“If you make the ‘no time’ excuse again, I will scream,” he said with in utmost seriousness. You promptly shut up: Seokmin’s lung capacity was well-known by everyone in the building.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “You know, if it’s physical contact that you need to sleep– Nevermind. How are the pancakes?”

Whether it was to save your or his dignity, you chose to ignore his first comment and answered only the last question, “Their colour is nicer than usual. I like the golden colour.”

“I guess the free range eggs really do make a difference,” Seokmin mused with a chuckle. When you offered him a surprised look, he hummed in confusion. “What?”

“You bought free range eggs? Didn’t you say they were too expensive last time?”

He shrugged. “I figured I might as well try to make some more ethical choices while shopping. Besides, you recommended them–”

Your eyes welled up a little. “You bought more expensive eggs because I recommended them?”

“And because I care for animals,” he added in a little too fast.

You laughed and nodded. “For the animals, right. Me too.”

“Do you ever rest from your work?” he wondered after a moment. “What do you do outside of it?”

“I… don’t know. I read. I like to clean.”

“But what about going to festivals? Swimming? Cycling? Dancing?” He grew more and more desperate as you rejected every hobby he offered. “No wonder you’re so tired all of the time! You’re a workaholic.”

You snorted. “Sunny did say I’m similar to Jihoon.”

“I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“I think he’s worse though.”

“Oh, definitely, but he doesn’t go to sleep in his neighbours’ beds,” Seokmin pointed out with a look of worry. As he watched you for an exactly uncomfortable amount of time, his eyes eventually lit up again. “I have an idea. What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

“Working–”

“I swear if I hear that word one more time, I will scream.”

You, once again, promptly shut up.

“Great,” he beamed and clapped his hands together, “I’ll text you to details later.”

“You’re not even going to tell me what we’re doing?”

You sighed in disappointment as he smiled brightly and shook his head ‘no’.

A knock on your door notified you of his arrival. Despite being sure it wasn’t meant to be a date and knowing that Seokmin had seen you in far worse condition, you still took a deep breath and gave yourself a quick once-over at the mirror.

When you opened the door, he smiled at you brightly. “I see you’ve dressed up too.”

“I would hardly call this dressed up,” you told him rather sheepishly, suddenly even more aware of you appearance. “You look very dapper as well.”

“Yep, and do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

His smile widened so much you worried for his cheeks. “Because you and I are going to the theatre.”

“The theatre?” You paled at the mention and looked down at your outfit. “I feel like I’m underdressed then.”

“You look fine,” he laughed and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go or we’ll be late. And trust me,” he widened his eyes for dramatic effect, “you don’t want to be late.”

You gave in begrudgingly and locked the door as fast as you could while he practically bounced at your side in excitement.

“What are we going to watch then?” you finally remembered to ask when you entered the theatre less than 15 minutes later. “I swear, if you dragged me here to watch an opera–”

“It’s a musical, actually,” he admitted bashfully. “I love musicals and I don’t know much about other theatre performances so I thought– But if you don’t like musicals, that’s–”

“I don’t mind musicals,” you told him with a little laugh and pat on his shoulder. “But I have to admit, it has been ages since my last time at the theatre, and I haven’t seen a musical in a few years at least.”

“That’s fine. I’ll guide you through it.” And as if the last shy bone had left his body, he grabbed your hand and led you to your seats, all the while widely smiling at you and giving your hand periodical squeezes of encouragement.

His hand never left yours for the duration of the musical, not even for intermission, not even when he ordered cake from the theatre café to hold you over until after the show. His hand remained warm in yours, fingers squeezing a little tighter every once in a while, his thumb running over the back of your hand.

It was so warm, so comforting. Just his presence alone was enough to make you dizzy with the feeling of safety and happiness. His touch? You were floating on cloud 9 with zero regard for what was going on below – or on the stage, for that matter.

Frankly, you could barely remember to watch the musical because you were so busy marvelling at the feel of his hand in yours.

“That was so good,” he excitedly told you as the two of you returned to your apartment. “The music was phenomenal.”

“The actors were very good.” And that was the only contribution you could make to the conversation because you definitely hadn’t paid any attention to the plot and your knowledge of music was simply not there.

But thankfully, that seemed to be far more than enough. His eyes gleamed as he sat onto your sofa and gestured widely while speaking, “Right? The leading woman was just– Incredible, fantastic. Her range! I’m a little jealous, actually.”

You took the seat next to him. To your surprise, his hand found yours once again, wasting no time in interlocking your fingers. And just like that, paying attention to anything else became difficult.

Were you really developing a crush on him? Just like that? You refused. You were too busy to be pining after a man.

But when slid closer to your side and looked at you like you were the most wonderful person to ever exist, you suddenly didn’t care about the lack of time. Screw it. You’d make time if it meant you got to see his star-filled eyes again.

“... Sorry, what?” you coughed out when he paused and looked at you expectantly.

He laughed. “You’re so cute. I asked if you wanted to go see another musical with me someday.”

“I’d love to,” you blurted out without thinking.

Yeah. Screw deadlines.

“Okay, perfect!” His smile brightened up the entire room as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Because I heard they’re doing Excalibur next season and I desperately need a friend to go watch it with me. I saw the premise and heard a preview of one of the songs and they’re holding auditions next month and I am already obsessed–”

Your brain was barely functioning at all, and yet you could recall one single memory from the depths of it. A dream he had shared. “Then why don’t you audition?”

He sat up abruptly, looking at you as if you were insane. “I couldn’t possibly–”

“Why not?” you asked. “I heard you singing the other day. You’re really good. I think you could get any part pretty easily.”

His ears turned more red with every word you said. “You flatter me…”

“I’m serious, Seokmin!”

“I’m not that good. And I have zero acting experience, aside from a few courses I did in college. Why would they ever pick me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” you countered and he scoffed.

“I can think of a few–”

“You never know if you don’t try,” you told him and raised your hand to brush a stray hair off his forehead. “I’m rooting for you.”

As your words faded into the night and your eyes met, you wondered if he could feel the sparks flying and bursting all around you as well. Did he also feel that overwhelming adoration for you?

He sighed after a while, a bashful smile on his face. “You must be tired. It’s been a long night. Go to sleep.”

“I really should,” you yawned as if on cue. You shared a laugh at the timing.

He squeezed your hand one last time. “Well, good night then. I expect I’ll find you at my apartment in the morning–”

“Or you could stay here and we don’t have to worry about that,” you blurted without thinking. Your face flashed hot right after.

Had there been any alcohol in that cake he bought for you? Why were you feeling so bold all of a sudden?

“I–” He seemed speechless.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you rushed out and avoided his eyes. “I think I’m just really tired and work has been stressful and maybe my brain is just broke–”

He placed his hand behind your neck and led your head to rest against his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on your back. You could hear his body rumble with laughter as he held you. “I’d love to stay over. Besides,” he pushed you away just enough to look you in the eyes again, “I think it’s only fair that I get to sleep over this once, because you sleep over at my place a lot.”

You frowned and pouted. “It’s not like I mean to–”

“A lot,” he repeated with wide eyes and a teasing smile before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

When you recounted the half-embarrassing and yet half-lovestruck happenings of the previous night to Sunny on the way back from work, she stared at you in bafflement.

“You actually asked him to sleep over?” she gasped, hand over her heart as if she was a peasant woman of the 16th century hearing the most scandalous gossip. “You little vixen!”

“Nothing happened,” you insistently told her as the two of you stepped off the bus.

She huffed. “That’s honestly so boring. I mean, have you seen that man? What I wouldn’t give to–”

“I am once again reminding you that you already have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t know what we’re into in the bedroom,” she countered with a smirk.

You only now realised how much Jeonghan was rubbing off on her. She was becoming a second him, slowly but surely. Couple of the year.

“I’m taking away your friend privileges, Sunny,” you told her at that and rushed ahead to avoid hearing any more weirdly Jeonghan-like jokes from her.

She laughed at that before running after you. “Okay, okay, no more dirty jokes.”

“Thank god,” you sighed towards the sky.

“So, did any sleepwalking occur?” she then asked before humming in thought. “Well, I imagine if it had, I would’ve heard about it by now. It would’ve been quite a sight to see Seokmin running after an asleep you towards his apartment at 2 am.”

“I didn’t sleepwalk.”

And frankly, if you had, Seokmin must have done a very good job of getting you back to your own bed because you woke up exactly how and where you fell asleep – wrapped in his arms, head resting in the crook of his neck.

Sunny suddenly stopped in spot. Her eyes wide, her lips parted. She pointed an accusatory finger at you, “Wait, does that mean you two are dating now?”

You weren’t sure you had the answer. And you wouldn’t have time to find the answer for a while.

“Good morning!” you heard Seokmin’s voice before you even opened your eyes.

Unlike the previous few times, disappointment filled you as realisation hit. You groaned and turned over to bury your face in his numerous pillows, hoping you could suffocate yourself out of a mildly infuriating nightmare.

Seokmin clicked his tongue. “Not quite the greeting I was expecting, especially considering I was greeted with a hug the last time we shared a bed.”

“Shut it.”

“Oh, you’re mean today.”

“Did I fall asleep mid-work again?” you sighed and slowly sat up to glare at nothing in particular. Seokmin went to great lengths to avoid whatever direction to directed your deadly look to. “God, I bet I didn’t even make it to the second graph– I’m not gonna have time to go to the office for work today.”

He stared at you curiously. “So, work from home? I mean, if you have the possibility.”

“Yeah, but then I’ll get distracted and then I still won’t end up doing anything,” you whined before falling back into the pillows. You wanted to cry just at the thought of that stupid report waiting on your idle laptop.

“Why are you so stressed about this report anyway? I don’t think you were ever this upset over any other reports.”

“If this project report goes through, and we pull off this project – which I still have to plan, oh my god, I am so far behind–”

Seokmin laughed at your frantic movements and moved over to place his hands on your shoulders and keep you still. “Hey, hey, don’t get distracted. If the project goes through…?”

You took a deep breath. “If the project goes well, I will get a promotion. Less hours, better pay.” You sighed. “Then maybe I’ll be able to get a dog like I’ve always wanted.”

“That sounds wonderful! We should celebrate with breakfast,” he suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

But as tempting as it sounded, you simply didn’t have any time to chat. You had work to do. And so, you stood up, fixed your hair, gave Seokmin an affectionate yet half-hearted pat on the back and headed for the door.

You couldn’t wait to spend your day in complete lonely misery. At work you at least had friends to talk between sections. All you had in your apartment was Bertha and instant coffee.

And it was as if Seokmin knew it just from the way you spoke to him that morning.

When the clock struck twelve, you heard a timid knock on your door. Confused at the noise and a little disoriented from the five pages of words you had written, you stood up and went to the door.

Your heart grew three sizes when you saw him standing there, looking so awfully huggable in his large white hoodie and grey sweatpants, glasses on his nose accompanied by a kind smile. You were so surprised to find him there that you failed to consider why he came.

He had to nudge you with the plastic bag he was holding for you to even notice it.

“Sorry,” you stammered and stepped aside to let him in, “I’m just a little-”

“Stress? Overworked? Confused because you’ve been staring at a 15-inch screen for the past three hours?” he suggested and brought the bag to the kitchen. “That’s okay. Don’t even mind me.” He smiled as he nodded towards your laptop. “Go on. Work waits. The sooner you get to it, the sooner it’ll be done.”

Disoriented as you were, you didn’t dare argue and slowly walked back to your previous seat at the coffee table, all the while watching him cautiously.

As your fingers landed on the keyboard, he began lifting things out of the bag. You watched in awe as he stacked snacks and vegetables onto the counter.

Feeling your eyes on him, he lifted his head to glare at you. “Work.”

“Work,” you repeated on instinct and turned back to your laptop. He laughed a little at your robotic tone.

Some 20 minutes later, you felt a presence next to you. When you turned to face it, Seokmin was holding an fruit slice up at your lips.

“Eat,” he told you softly. You did as told.

“What are you doing?” you asked between confused laughter and chewing. Your eyes landed on the bowl of fruits he had placed in front of you.

He shrugged. “Taking care of you. You seemed so upset this morning… I thought it would be nice to spend my free day helping you.”

Your eyes widened. “It’s your free day? And you’re here? You should be resting!”

“Watching you is all the rest I need,” he winked playfully before lifting another fruit to your lips. “Now, eat up. This is lunch. I’ll make something better for dinner.”

“You don’t have to–”

He took this chance to shove a piece of apple into your mouth, effectively interrupting your speech. “I will, and I don’t care what you say.”

He glanced around the apartment as you began to eat the fruits on your own. “When was the last time you opened a window?”

You watched curiously as he stood up (with a groan because his bones simply weren’t as nimble as they used to be) and headed over to the windows, opening a few to air out the room. As he did so, he told you, “They say that good airflow and fresh air help the thought process. We air out the classrooms between every lesson so the next students won’t get too tired.”

“I don’t think I’ve opened any windows in here since I first moved in,” you confessed before turning back to your laptop. Before you could your train of thought again, a soft fabric was placed on your shoulders. You looked up to find him smiling at you brightly. “So you won’t get cold.”

“What about you then?”

He shrugged and winked. “I’ll just consider this my daily walk in the park.” He then looked around the apartment again, as if looking for something to do. You couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Maybe… you could… make me a cup of tea?” you suggested.

He lit up at the idea. “Coming right up!”

Before heading to the kitchen, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. It seemed almost like a reflex – like he didn’t even need to think about doing it.

Relishing in the leftover warmth of his lips and the feel of his hoodie on your skin, your work took a backseat for a while. Instead of thinking about your project of a lifetime, your brain was drowning in one singular question. You glanced towards the kitchen to watch him, a smile appearing on your face as you did.

“Seokmin?” you called out softly after a moment.

He hummed in response immediately, eyes lifting from the cup he was preparing so he could offer you an encouraging smile.

You took a deep breath. “What are we?”

He paused. “What do you mean?”

“You and I. What are we to each other?” you wondered, unable to look away from him. There was something you badly wanted to hear him say and yet feared at the same time. “What are you to me?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “I… I’ll be whatever you’d like me to be.”

“Whatever? A friend?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he breathed out, a little shakier than before.

“What about a lover?”

He smiled. “If you so wish.”

“Then… what do you want me to be?” you asked him quietly, a part of you praying your words would go missing in the incoming wind before they reached him.

“I just…” He bit his lip in contemplation, ears turning red, and avoided your eyes.

“What do you want me to be to you, Seokmin?” you repeated your question, a little bolder this time, hope sparking in your heart.

He looked up again, into your eyes. “Mine.” You let out a breath – of relief or fear, you weren’t sure – but he didn’t hesitate when he repeated, “I want you to be mine.”

You felt guilty for the words you’d utter next. “But we don’t have the time for that…”

“That’s okay,” he assured you with a kind smile. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Slow? How slow do we take it?”

“As slow as you need. I’m not leaving.”

“I signed up for the auditions,” he told you over breakfast a few days later. “Jihoon’s helping me prepare.”

You were still neck-deep in your project, struggling to meet the deadlines and coordinate your team. This seemed to lead the asleep you to Seokmin’s apartment more often than not. It was almost like you woke up in his bed every morning now.

But even in your despair, you couldn’t help but be excited for Seokmin.

Your eyes lit up and a squeal came out as you grabbed his hand over the table. “Really? You did?!”

He used his free hand to rub the back of his neck bashfully. “Well, you said I should give it a try, right? Who knows,” he shrugged, trying his best to seem nonchalant or even fake a little bit of confidence, “maybe they’ll give me a part.”

“I’m sure they will,” you insisted, squeezing his hand. “Your voice is amazing and you’re so handsome – the ladies are going to swoon when they see you on the stage.”

He laughed. “Will you be one of those ladies?”

“I’ll be in the front row,” you solemnly promised. “At every show. You’ll get sick of seeing me.”

“I could never,” he assured you.

Seokmin’s audition would take place two weeks later. You made sure the mark the day with a big red circle on your calendar – on all three of them, in fact. And now it was time.

Between your seemingly endless stream of project complications and Seokmin’s daytime job and audition preparations, you barely saw him. If it weren’t for your persistent sleepwalking problem, you wouldn’t have seen him at all. And so, the curse had became a blessing.

“You’ll do great,” you assured him minutes after waking up in his bed. You made sure to give him the warmest hug before letting him leave the room. “I believe in you. And so does Jihoon, apparently.”

Seokmin pouted. “Did he say that or are you lying to make me feel better?”

“We talked yesterday,” you told him, appalled that he’d even accuse you of such atrocities. “He said he has complete faith that you’ll do well.”

“I don’t believe you but–”

“Do you want to fight me? Already?” You raised a brow and he shook his head immediately. “Exactly. Just accept the compliment. And don’t forget to call me when you finish, okay?”

“Of course,” he promised.

He kept that promise. Just as he stepped out of the theatre, his shaky hands picked up the phone and chose your number.

You answered the call with prep in your voice. It had been a good day so far and you were expecting to hear his no-doubt joyous retellings of the audition.

What you weren’t expecting was: “Can you come get me? I think I might cry.”

“Why, why?” Despite your words, you didn’t hesitate to slam your laptop closed and grab your jacket. “Are you okay? Were they mean?”

“They weren’t mean,” he mumbled on the other side of the line, “but I don’t think I did well.”

“I’m sure you did wonderful,” you spoke while rushing down the street. Thankfully, the theatre was barely a five-minute walk from your office – half that at your current pace. “You’re just putting yourself down over nothing.”

Seokmin whined. “You’re seriously overestimating me.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“No, I’m serious. You overestimate me.”

As you crossed the street, you noticed a familiar figure dragging his feet along the pavement, head low and shoulders slumped. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because you like me a little more than you should,” he suggested while kicking a pebble. You could already hear his voice even without the phone. “I’m sure the directors think I’m a joke or something. God, I am so–”

“Don’t you dare say another bad word about yourself,” you scolded him with a gentle slap against the back of his head.

He stared at you in bewilderment – both from the fact that you might as well have appeared from thin air and the fact that you just did that.

But you were unrelenting in your affection for him. “Lee Seokmin, listen to me: you did absolutely great. You did your best. And even if you don’t get a part this time, they’ll value the fact that you now have experience with auditions. Take it in stride.”

Tears gathered in his eyes. Before long, he pulled you into his embrace, holding you impossibly tight. “You’re just saying that… Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, silly,” you laughed and hugged him back just as tightly. “I think we should celebrate this occasion.”

“Even if I screwed up and don’t get the part?”

You scoffed. “Absolutely! A little cake can make everything better, no?”

He sighed. “I don’t think I can eat right now. I might throw up from the nerves.”

“Drink then?”

He contemplated and then straightened up. “I could go for some bubble tea…”

“There we go!” you cheered and gently pinched his cheeks, prompting a small giggle. “My treat because you did so well today and I’m so proud of you.”

This time it was you who grabbed his hand without any hesitation, more than happy to reassuringly squeeze it as you walked and talked.

“When will you get the answer?” you wondered.

He sucked in a breath. “In about a week, they said. Or maybe never–”

“Seokmin,” you scolded.

“In a week,” he corrected himself with some enthusiasm. “I’ll get answers in a week. And then I might actually cry.”

“And I’ll be there when you cry tears of joy, darling.”

“Tears of joy?” He raised a brow and smiled in disbelief. “You seriously put too much faith in me.”

You nudged his side. “As if you haven’t been equally supportive about my promotion.”

“Oh, right,” Seokmin gasped, “won’t your promotion interview be in a week too?”

You would’ve preferred he didn’t remind you. Then again, you guessed it was only fair.

“Will you come over to hold me when I cry too?”

“Tears of joy?” he teased and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I’ll be just a call away.”

The week somehow passed at both the pace of a snail and the pace of Junhui on a sugar rush.

After finding you in his bed every single morning, Seokmin resorted to just sleeping over at your place, tightly cuddling you to keep you in place. He now had a whole drawer dedicated to his things in your bedroom.

The day started okay. You were awoken not by a loud alarm like you had expected, but by Seokmin gently singing you awake.

For a moment, you thought you had died and gone straight to heaven – maybe working so hard to save the environment had paid off after all, you thought. But no, it was just your reality.

What a beautiful reality. You couldn’t help but smile as you cuddled into his chest.

“If you keep clinging onto me like that, I won’t be able to make my famous waffles for a lucky breakfast,” he whispered but made no attempt to push you away.

The delicious breakfast was followed by an encouraging hug on the way out of the building, him to the school and you to the office. You wore a smile the entire time.

Up until you made it to your desk. Then the reality began sinking in.

This was the day that could make or break your career. The day you had worked so hard for that you neglected your private life for so many years.

As the clock on the wall slowly ticked forward, your hands began to shake. Your throat was dry. Your head was fuzzy, full of nothing but anxiety. If someone had asked you about anything, you would’ve only been able to stare at them with a mouth wide open.

20 minutes until your scheduled interview. You were starting to feel sick.

When another colleague came to give you a supportive pat on the back, you excused yourself and grabbed your phone to rush outside to the balcony. You sat on a chair and willed yourself to take deep breaths as you tapped on his number.

You wanted to slap yourself when you realised that you hadn’t even bothered to check if he was on break yet.

But he answered on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? Did you have the interview alread–”

“Seokmin, I can’t do this,” you whimpered into the microphone. “I can’t do this. They’re gonna realise I’m an idiot and they’ll fire me and–”

“Woah, woah, what happened to your positive can-do attitude?” he wondered. “You’ll be fine.”

“No–”

“(Y/n),” he said your voice so firmly that your breath got caught in your throat. “(Y/n), you will be fine. You’ve worked there for so many years, you’ve achieved so many things. If they wanted to fire you, they would’ve done that by now.”

You took a shaky breath. “What if it’s an elaborate prank?”

“Why would– Baby, listen to me. You’ve worked hard. You put everything you had into that project – I was there, I saw it. You and your ideas are invaluable to your company. They’re going to ask you a few questions as a formality and they’re going to give that promotion and then you and I are going to go to a celebratory dinner and it’ll all be over.”

“And I can get a dog?” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You can get two dogs if you want, baby,” he laughed. “You deserve it. Don’t underestimate yourself. I believe in you and I’m sure your co-workers do as well.”

“How do you always know the right words to say?”

He laughed once again. “Baby, I’m a teacher. I’m literally trained to comfort people. I’m just glad I’m able to comfort you as well.”

“Thank you.”

“No need,” he responded, “just go and ace that interview. Okay?”

“And then you’ll come and wipe my happy tears?”

“You already know the answer to that question. But I expect the same treatment when I get my audition results.”

“Will do.”

“Go and get them, tiger.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but something about the conversation seemed to have lifted the weight off your shoulders. When you walked back to the office, the upcoming interview no longer felt as taunting.

As the clock hit 2 pm, you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath and headed to your manager’s office.

When the day ended, you found Seokmin standing in front of the office building, a blinding smile on his face.

“Well?” he asked expectantly, though the look in his eyes said that he had every faith that you would only give him good news. You were glad to prove him right.

Your coy smile was replaced with joyous laughter as you ran to hug him and called out, “I got the job!”

“You got it? You got it!” he cheered with you, jumping up and down with you in his arms, not far from spinning you around in the air. “I knew you would! What did I tell you? Silly you,” he let you out of his hold to place his hands on your cheeks and pull your face closer to his own, “you thought you wouldn’t get the promotion. Look at you now. I’m so proud of you.”

You breathed out in relief. The smile seemed to never stop tugging on your cheeks. “I’m so relieved I could cry.”

“Then who will dry my happy tears?” he teased with a bright smile.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Wait–”

“I got the part,” he whispered, his smile only growing wider, eyes sparkling. “I’m going to become a musical actor, officially.”

“Oh my god!” you practically squealed and now it was your turn to hug him and jump. He was glad to join you, laughing in glee. “I knew you could do it! I knew it!”

As joy got the best of you – and who could blame you: this was the happiest day of your life so far –, you grabbed his face and pulled him closer to you to press your lips against his own. He melted into the gesture, arms wrapping around you tighter as if to will the moment to last forever.

When you pulled back, just enough so that your noses touched, he laughed in disbelief. “I thought we were supposed to take it slow?”

“Screw taking it slow,” you whispered and kissed him again. “Might as well make it a triple celebration.”

“I like the sound of that.”

BONUS !

While practically leaning out of their open window to watch you and Seokmin kiss under the streetlights on your way home, Jeonghan and Sunny argued.

“I told you they would get together,” Sunny declared, her eyebrows raised as if to dare her boyfriend to prove her wrong.

Jeonghan scoffed. “Please. They’re just kissing. It could be casual.”

“Just say you don’t want to owe me 20 bucks.”

“I don’t owe you 20 bucks! We have no confirmation!”

“Jeonghan, listen here–”

“No, no, you listen–”

“Both of you listen here!” Chan bellowed from the window above them. “If you don’t stop arguing right now, I will report you both to Jihoon’s parents! Some of us are trying to sleep!” Silence followed. “And pay her the 20 bucks, Jeonghan. They’re clearly together.”

Jeonghan grumbled and glared upwards before fishing a 20 out of his pocket and handing it to his smiling girlfriend.

#seventeenweeklyarticle #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seokmin x reader #seokmin scenarios #seventeen fic #dk scenarios #.avy writes #series: serenity street 17 💙

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writtenonreceipts · 5 months

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a/n: Bonus points if you can point out where one of my (many) mental breakdowns occurs. She’s a bit of a disaster. I literally don’t know where this came from…

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas @aelinschild! Written as part of the @rowaelinscourt secret santa exchange. Thanks for putting up with me and my myriad of asks. It’s been wonderful to get to know you these last few weeks! <3<3<3<3

Find the companion Elorcan piece here! Set just a few months before the main events of this story.

AO3 Link here

Warnings: nothing major, non-explicit/passing mentions of trauma/abuse, very brief mention of drugs ~25k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Until the Dust Settles

A golden sun set behind the Oakwald Mountains, casting long shadows across the long stretch of land that made up Whitethorn Ranch. The acres were a makeup of subtle rills and hills where horses could run for ages and the flatter earth where a decent sized garden yielded a fair amount for the farmers market in the spring and summer.

The land had been in Rowan Whitethorn’s family for over one hundred years—it was the only home he’d ever known. He’d grown up racing horses through the vast fields or spending winter chasing down animals that had gotten loose in a storm. He would admit that sometimes it was a hard life to live—the constant work, the fear for the animal’s safety. But it certainly had its benefits.

The spring and summer that actually made the land worth having. Not only because there in the farther outreaches of the countryside, things seemed untouched by society—which really was the only thing worth mentioning. But it also allowed for the most tourism and when most people came to visit that ranch.

For nearly twenty years now, Whitethorn Ranch was mostly known for its outreach program for troubled teens. When kids needed time away from home where it was for depression, anxiety, trauma, misbehavior—they came to the ranch.

It had started ages ago when Rowan’s great-grandfather came to own the land and took on the runaways who were escaping bad situations. His great-grandparents accepted anyone who came by the ranch as their own and the attitude extended through the generations. By the time Rowan’s father gained the land, things had turned to be more professional.

The ranch used a mix of therapy modems and simple outreach to help those who needed it. They offered day visits for schools, riding lessons, even month-long visits and stays for extreme cases. It was careful water to tread sometimes. Recently, Rowan had been more conscious about making sure the kids who came felt safe and wanted. He never accepted anyone who was forced to come, unless he could talk to the kid first. Even then, he knew that help only helped when someone actually wanted it.

But now as Rowan stared over the golden horizon, he wondered how anyone could turn a sight like this down.

He tightened Goldryn’s reins and clicked his tongue, directing the horse back to the stables. It had been a long day of checkouts and clean up. This late in the fall, most people only came by for tours or field trips. Business wouldn’t pick back up until May at least.

For now, the ranch would rely on its usual borders. There were a few families that owned horses but didn’t have the land to keep them, so Rowan rented out stalls and charged for care. It kept him busy enough in the slower months. Him and Lorcan, his best friend from college, made things work though. It had taken a great deal of convincing to get Lorcan to come out here, but the grumpy bastard enjoyed being outside and this job presented plenty of opportunity.

It certainly helped that Lorcan had recently started dating Elide Lochan, who was a staple to the small town. And Rowan had to admit—they were good together.

As he rode down a worn path along the paddock fence, Rowan could see a shape waiting for him in the distance. He grimaced. There was only one person that would be so intent on talking to him.

He slowed Goldryn to a trot, knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

Leaning against a fence post with her arms crossed and golden blonde hair hanging in loose curls was Aelin Galathynius. Brilliant, beautiful, and a pain in his ass. She had come to the ranch almost six months ago after graduating from a top university specializing in trauma. She was exactly what he needed for what he was trying to accomplish here and exactly the right person to drive him insane.

Rowan pulled Goldryn to a stop at the fence gate and stared down at Aelin. Her cold blue eyes stared right back up. She’d long since traded her fancy clothes and high heels out for jeans and t-shirts. She even wore a baseball cap on occasion. And yet the change of close did nothing to diminish her looks.

“I need to talk to you,” she said. She didn’t flinch when Goldryn stamped her feet with a loud snort. Another thing Aelin had improved upon, not being jumpy around the animals. Though, she did eye the mare with a bit of distrust.

“It’s outside of my office hours,” he replied. “Try again tomorrow.”

Aelin scowled at him. It was the same excuse she used on him when he needed to talk to her, he didn’t see why she should be so upset to have it thrown back in her face.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” she said.

“I know what I said.” He adjusted his hold on the reins and shrugged. “It’s been a busy few days.”

He jumped off of Goldryn’s back, landing in the earth with a soft thump. He could just as easily have Aelin open the gate for him, but he was convinced she would have tried to scratch his eyes out if he’d asked. Keeping one hand in the reins, Rowan unlatched the gate and swung it open towards him. Goldryn snorted again, huffing as she backed up a few feet to make room.

Aelin too had taken a step back but she didn’t go far. She was several inches shorter than he was, even in the boots she wore, but still taller than the average woman. She had a lean, athletic build Rowan had seen put to good use. When some of the kids got restless on their extended stays she would workout with them, go for runs, turn hay bales, the whole nine-yards. She wasn’t weak by any means.

“What do you need, princess?” he asked as he led Goldryn through the gate, locking the paddock again behind him. He kept himself between Aelin and the horse, mostly because he knew she still wasn’t comfortable around the larger animals and even he wasn’t that cruel.

Still, Aelin almost stalked off right then. Rowan could see it in her eyes, the tilt of her chin. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had. Hell, he’d never met anyone as stubborn as Aelin Galathynius. Not even one of his horses had as much attitude.

But he knew she needed something and even though it killed her, she uncrossed her arms and kept pace with him as he set off toward the stables.

“Don’t call me that,” Aelin said flatly. She flicked her hair over one shoulder as she kept her steps purposeful, even when she stepped in a small hole and nearly went careening forward.

Rowan tried to reach out and steady her as he kept Goldryn reined in, but Aelin waved him off. She straightened herself out and got on even footing before she continued to scowl at the ground. She’d always been like that too—refusing help and insisting she could manage things on her own. She was damned near worse than Farasha.

“Easy,” he said. He was talking to the horse, who was yanking on the reins a bit too hard. Aelin of course would never miss an opportunity to glare at him.

It was a shame they hated each other; Rowan decided. Because try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Between her blue eyes, the golden waves of hair, the mischievous tilt of her lips—he’d be a fool not to acknowledge it. But Aelin was also impossibly stubborn. She fought him on everything. She was opinionated. She was selfish. She was—

“I want you to open up another week for kids to come and stay over Christmas and New Years,” Aelin said. She adjusted the yellow and black flannel she wore, eyes straight forward.

She was going to drive him to an early grave.

It was Rowan’s turn to stumble as he spun to look at her. “You what?”

Goldryn snorted, pulling on the reins again. Oh she was mad at him. They were a few minutes late to dinner now and she knew it. Damn horse.

“An extra week for kids to come stay over the holidays,” Aelin repeated. She didn’t flinch from the way he turned his own glare on her, only kept walking with that insufferable tilt to her chin.

“Why?” he asked.

Christmas—any of the holidays this time of year really—always made for a quieter time on the ranch. People were more content to stay at home and put off their problems a little longer. It wasn’t until after that people realized how much they hated their circumstances. Even then, they didn’t seek out his ranch for anything more than daily horse rides. Nothing to actually problem solve.

“It’s a hard time of year for kids,” Aelin said.

They reached the stables and she helped slide the great door open. Immediately, the heating system blasted them with a warm gush of air accompanied by the scent of hay, manure, and feed. It was a scent Rowan had grown used to and, strange as it was, he took comfort in.

Rowan handed Goldryn off to one of the stable hands who took the mare to her stall. Turning to Aelin, Rowan crossed his arms over his chest, taking her in. She had a fiery determination about her and he knew he wouldn’t be able to brush her off easily.

“Open up an extra week so these kids can have a safe place to come,” Aelin insisted. “There’s a program with the city—”

“Please, Aelin, I know what that means,” he said, already walking away. She could trail him and make her case if it was so important. “I won’t actually get paid for the extra costs. The city pretends to take care of all the funding but doesn’t actually give me what I need.”

“I’ll take care of it all,” Aelin said, indeed following right after him as he moved to the feed barrels. She even managed to dodge the droppings from the lone pig that wandered the stables. “I’ll keep up the communications with the program. I know the director, she’s not a flake.”

Rowan had heard things like this before. Sellene had tried to get him to take state funding before too, all that resulted in was mounds of paperwork and audits.

He opened the feed barrels and started scooping portions into waiting buckets that would go to the various horse stalls. Aelin took one of the buckets as soon as it was filled, her manicured fingers wrapping around the handle.

“The Cavarre Foundation wants to help kids,” Aelin continued. She grabbed another bucket. “They’ve already got a list of kids they can send over.”

“Then they can wait til after the holidays,” Rowan said.

He hefted his own buckets and went to the first stall. A yearling named Quinn was already waiting for his feed. His owners were aiming for the colt to be a stallion and show for congress. Quinn had a bit too much attitude to take to that sort of training, he’d be better as a rodeo horse or in the fields, but Rowan wasn’t being paid for that commentary.

“Watch it buddy,” Rowan warned the colt as he opened the stall and eased toward the trough in the corner. Quinn nickered and pranced a bit, but ultimately didn’t give him any issues.

Aelin waited outside the stall, the tension in her body obvious. She should just go and catch up with him later. He would have suggested it too if she didn’t immediately start talking again.

“What if their home lives aren’t the best? These kids have been selected from a few of the foster homes in the area and recommended by psychiatrists that this would be a beneficial healing opportunity.” Aelin dodged around a worker moving hay, this time landing one foot in a pile of pig dung. She didn’t flinch. “Isn’t that what this ranch is about?”

No it wasn’t.

Rowan opened the door of Hessina’s stall. The mare was pregnant, due in late February, and had to be the sweetest horse he actually owned. Rowan offered her a nose rub that she eagerly accepted.

“Are you even listening to me?” Aelin asked as Rowan closed the stall again.

“Hard not to when you won’t shut up,” he muttered. He couldn’t tell if she’d heard him or not--her scowl remained perfectly etched on her face and she betrayed nothing as she walked with him to the next two stalls.

It didn’t take long to get most of the horses fed and ensure they had plenty of water. The night wasn’t set to get too cold, so they wouldn’t bring out the blankets. The heating system worked well enough to keep things warm but not freezing and these horses were all conditioned and bred for the chilly winter weather as it was.

By the time Rowan was ready to head back to the main house it had almost darkened completely outside. Another long day done only for it to continue tomorrow and the day after. He’d only been officially running the ranch for five years and he was ready to be done with it.

After making sure everything was set for the night, and checking in with the shift leader, Rowan decided he could leave everything as it was. Lorcan would be in tomorrow to do a once over. As the lead stable manager, he oversaw the functioning of the workers and the horses. He even did a bit of training on the horses. Not that Lorcan would ever admit to doing so.

“You still here?” Rowan said to Aelin as he headed back to the cold night. It was a twenty-minute walk, but the weather had been decent enough that he hadn’t wanted to bother with his car.

“You never gave me an answer,” she said.

They walked across the long drive that led straight to the main house. The road wasn’t paved, only gravel packed dirt that wound it’s way around the property. When kids were staying in the cabins, Aelin had a room designated for her in the house, but she usually just went back into town where she rented an apartment. As far as he knew, she was still planning on leaving when they reached her car.

“I already told you no,” he said.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make; opening the ranch up for a week. Especially over the holidays. He knew that Lorcan didn’t care about this time of year and there were a few ranch hands that wouldn’t mind the extra time to work. But if the city program never paid him, he could never pay for the extra work. And while he knew he could handle the work on his own if necessary…well, Rowan just didn’t see the point of approving this.

“It’s a lot to take on without much warning,” he added, before Aelin could rise up in a defensive retort. “Give me a day, alright?”

They finally reached the main house with its large wrap-around porch, the whitewashed wood, and three-story windows. His cousin was probably inside already cooking up a meal that she’d filmed for her Instagram page. It was the kind of house for a family, for someone with more to their name than Rowan did. Sometimes he really hated coming home.

Aelin car, a small two-door Audi, waited from where she’d parked it that morning. Rowan would be very interested to know how she planned on getting around once the snow started.

“I’ll take on any extra work you need,” she said, “cooking, cleaning, I’ll care for horses—”

“You hate the horses,” he said.

Her mouth twisted to the side. “I’ll do what I need to do. Please, Rowan. I think this would be a really good opportunity.”

Rowan didn’t know what surprised him more: the fact that she said please or used his first name. He made the mistake of meeting her gaze, the gold undertones of the blue bright in the porch lights. Shaking his head, Rowan muttered a curse.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” he told her.

Aelin nodded once. “Thank-you.”

It was the most civil they’d been to each other in a long time. Usually their exchanges ended in accusations, shouting, and name calling. Aelin too seemed caught off guard by it. She stepped back, digging for her keys in her pocket. She nodded again before returning to her car.

Rowan remained outside as she made a quick U-turn in the large gravel drive. She disappeared into the night quietly, the taillights soon lost as she curved down a bend in the road.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

Rowan already knew the answer he would have to give Aelin. It was one he’d have to give his entire staff. And he knew no one was going to like it. Come new year he was going to sell the ranch to someone new. And just like that the legacy his family had left him would be gone.

…

As she drove down the highway into town, Aelin found herself wringing the steering wheel of the car while imagining it was Rowan Whitethorn’s neck. She knew, she knew, he was going to tell her no. He would text her first thing in the morning and tell her that her request would be denied. That the thing she actually cared about wouldn’t see the light of day.

He was a bastard.

She’d known it from the first day she’d met him so many months ago.

It was her first full day in Oakwald, having left everything behind in Terrasen, and she was ready to start anew. She’d expected things to be hard. But she hadn’t expected Rowan Whitethorn to look at her with such contempt and tell her that she really had no business being there in the first place. As if he hadn’t hired her just a week ago to fill a vacancy in his staff.

Not to mention the look he’d given her clothes, her car, everything about her was some big cosmic joke.

Aelin sighed and turned off the highway to the bar where her one real friend worked.

Her little Audi was out of place among the trucks and SUVs. She just needed to make it another two weeks without any bad weather and she’d have access to her new car. Locking up, she hurried into the bar, already relishing the warmth awaiting.

In the span of one minute, the cold November air nearly sucked the life out of her. The bar was a welcome reprieve as it was always kept at a decent heat. Even with the scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air, it had a comforting air about it.

Aelin went to the counter and slipped into a stool right next to Lorcan Salvaterre.

“Seriously?” he growled at her with a malicious side eye.

“It's the best of both worlds,” Aelin said with a cheeky smile. “You don’t like sharing your girlfriend, but she’s my best friend. You still can talk to her and freely ignore me.”

Lorcan was not impressed by the explanation. Back in the city, Aelin would have done everything in her power to avoid a man like him. He was massive with long black hair and enough scars to indicate bad news. His leather jacket strained with his broad shoulders and thick muscles. And while Aelin would admit she had a thing for guys of a certain physique there was something dark about Lorcan that she couldn’t explain. Which made it all the more surprising that he and Elide had started dating.

“Hey, Aelin!” Elide appeared from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, carrying a tray of appetizers for another table.

“Hey!” Aelin called back.

Just a few months ago, Elide had told her about the confession she’d overheard where Lorcan admitted his feelings for her. It had led to a heated kiss and a night that Elide said was the best of her life. It was the only explanation Aelin needed or wanted. She was glad her friend was happy, even if it was with Lorcan Salvaterre.

“Glad to see you’re still grumpy as ever,” Aelin told Lorcan. She snagged a few pretzels in one of the many bowls set up along the bar. She’d long gotten over her germ contamination worries.

Lorcan grunted and sipped his beer. Aelin rolled her eyes.

“You’re just like Whitethorn,” she said.

Another grunt. Well, it was better than utter ignorance she supposed.

Elide appeared a minute later. She leaned against the counter and raised a brow.

“Wow, you actually chose to sit next to Lorcan,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”

“I figured it would be better than making the old man upset that you would choose me over him to talk to,” Aelin explained. “Besides, I think he’s warming up to me.”

Lorcan cut her a look that only had her grinning.

Elide snorted a laugh. “Yeah, besties the two of you. What would you like to drink?”

“Just a coke,” Aelin said, “I should get home soon.”

“Coke and mozzarella sticks coming up,” Elide said with a wink. She glanced at Lorcan. “Babe?”

Lorcan stared at his girlfriend for a long moment before registering what she said. The corner of his mouth picked up in a smile and he shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Elide only smiled fondly as she got Aelin her coke and went to put in an order for mozzarella sticks.

It was strange to Aelin just how enmeshed she’d gotten into this small town just in the past few months since arriving. She never thought she’d find a place to belong more than in Terrasen, but there was something about Oakwald that she couldn’t deny enjoying. It certainly helped that she and Elide had become such quick friends.

But really, Aelin was glad to be out of Terrasen. She needed a new start. A new life. Here, no one knew her history, her parents, anything beyond the fact that she was the new therapist on Whitethorn Ranch. And she liked it that way.

Elide returned a minute later, her thick black hair piled in a new bun atop her head. She often worked doubles all week long without much time for herself, let alone to date anyone. But Aelin had learned a long time ago that Elide was as good as they came. She worked hard, cared harder, and was one of the most genuine individuals she’d ever met.

“How was the ranch?” Elide asked. She set another beer on the bar for Lorcan without his needing to ask for it.

“Good,” Aelin said, “it’s been slowing down. But if Whitethorn wouldn’t be such an ass, it would pick up. I pitched him my idea for the extra week over the holidays. He’s just going to say no, though.” Beside her, Lorcan made a noise. She shot him a glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, “it doesn’t matter.”

He looked up when the bar door opened and a few of his friends came in. He rapped his knuckles on the counter before standing to go join them.

Aelin looked back to Elide. “How can you like him?”

“Because I do,” Elide said simply. She leaned across the counter with a sigh. “I’m sure Rowan will approve your idea. It’s a good one and he knows it’s what his ranch is for. Take him the numbers and notes you came up with. He can’t say no to concrete evidence.”

Aelin nodded absently. When she’d come to Oakwald it had been in part to get away from Terrasen. But it had also been a beckoning call from her cousin and his wife.

Lysandra Cavarre-Ashryver had been a close friend of Aelin’s for years when they’d grown up together in Terrasen. They’d lost contact when Lysandra’s foster family took her across the country. Aelin too had lost contact with her cousin after a series of messy family drama. It was only after Aelin’s…accident a few years ago that they’d slowly reconnected.

And to be honest ever since talking with Lysandra and Aedion again, Aelin had slowly started feeling like herself. It had only taken six years.

“I just…I really think it’s a good plan, especially for those kids,” she said. This entire thing was the only thing keeping her afloat right now. A job that gave her purpose, a chance to reunite with her cousin…it was better than being left with the reality of potentially going back to Terrasen.

Aelin shuddered at the thought and sipped her coke. The carbonation danced on her tongue as she swallowed.

“He’s going to say yes,” Elide said. She gave Aelin another look of assurance before going back to the kitchen to check on orders.

Aelin didn’t know what to think. Elide had to be on her side, that’s what friends did. But Elide was also not the kind to cling to false hope.

“Yeah,” she said to herself. She had to believe that this would go right. Because the alternative…well she didn’t want to think about that.

…

“What do you mean no?” Aelin asked.

She stared across the desk at Rowan who looked utterly passive as he sat in his chair, fingers steepled before him.

They were in the office of the main house where most of the “on paper” business of the ranch was taken care of. Aelin had spent a bit of time here over the last several months. Mostly to force Rowan to listen to her on a subject. And just like all the other times before it was proving to be hostile and unproductive.

The office was simple in decoration with only a few framed pictures of Rowan’s dad, granddad, and great-granddad, a few knick-knacks on the shelves, and medals and certificates of recognition that the ranch had received over the years for various horses that had made nationals and other such things.

Aelin didn’t like the room very much. The rest of the house had a homey feel, but she believed that was because Sellene lived on site while she went to school at the local community college and hosted an online cooking show with Instagram. It was Sellene that added the feminine touch to the main concourses. Rowan hardly seemed like the domestic type. If things were his way the entire house would be empty save for a display of guns.

“I mean no,” Rowan said. He didn’t even look apologetic as he delivered the news. “It’s too much work for the ranch in this season. Most of the workers are already leaving until things pick up in the spring. And if you can’t guarantee payment then I’m not putting in the risk.”

She pulled out the binder she’d curated with Lysandra and dropped it on the desk with a thunk.

“I have the costs and benefits listed, what the program will offer in payment before and after, they have releases all lined up, the programs director is willing to come down and help with whatever is needed supervision wise for the kids.” Aelin flipped the binder open to the different graphs and spreadsheets. “If you’d just look it over.”

She was trying desperately to keep her voice even, to keep from shaking and revealing too much, but Aelin could feel a familiar sense of panic rising within her. This was happening. He was going to turn her down and she would be left with the solid evidence that she couldn’t even do something as simple as start a therapeutic program on her own.

“Aelin,” Rowan said. He leaned across the desk and placed a hand on the open binder. He didn’t even bother to look at the pages of carefully crafted data. Instead, his stupid green eyes bore into her with what Aelin could only describe as pity.

The bastard was pitying her?

She slid the binder away from him, protective of it and all the work she’d put into its contents.

“Fine,” she said. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In the last seven months of knowing him, he had always been cold and heartless. The kind of person that Aelin should have known better than getting into business with. He wasn’t any better than—

“I have three conditions,” Rowan said suddenly.

Aelin snapped her eyes back to his. He couldn’t really mean—

“First, you’ll be expected to pick up extra slack from the workers who already have approved time off for the holiday,” Rowan said, “and you’ll have to convince Lorcan to work over time.”

Aelin blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No strings attached?”

“Well, I doubt you’re going to get Lorcan to help.” Rowan shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He paused as if considering what his next words would be. “He doesn’t like helping people very much.”

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Aelin said, her body still thrumming with excitement. “No need to sugar coat it. What was your third condition?”

Rowan adjusted the cuff of his shirt. “The program director needs to have at least a quarter of the payment to me by tomorrow afternoon.”

“She can have it to you by today,” Aelin said automatically. She knew that just like her, Lysandra had been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along and had made sure she had sufficient funding all lined up. Plus, there was Aedion who would go to hell and back if it meant getting Lysandra something she wanted.

Rowan didn’t seem convinced that her words held much weight but he only nodded. “Alright. Then from the twenty third to January second you’re in charge.”

“Deal. Done.” Aelin agreed automatically. She would have given him the twenty in her wallet and her library card if it would make a difference. Which it should. Her library card was worth gold.

Despite his agreement, displeasure was plain to see on Rowan’s face. He still didn’t like this plan. Well he could just suck it up. By the time Aelin was through and was able to execute all the ideas she had—he would see. This was going to be a brilliant idea, one that could easily become a new tradition for the ranch.

He held out a hand toward her and Aelin stared. Did he want to shake on this?

“The binder,” he said, one silver brow raised.

Aelin felt a bit of heat rise in her cheeks, but she forced it back. This binder was her baby. Quite literally the thing that had pulled her through her master’s program, and hopefully to a doctorate.

“You’re going to be mean to her,” she said.

“It’s a binder.”

“It’s my child.”

Rowan’s lips parted in surprise. Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d caught him off guard. It was his turn to stare at her, those green eyes boring into her with such intensity Aelin would have thought he could actually see into her soul.

“I need to know what you’re going to put my ranch through,” he said.

Aelin pursed her lips. She knew she’d have to relent, but handing over the binder felt like handing over a piece of her and she didn’t think she was ready for that. Rowan’s hand still wanted expectantly and she glanced down at it. His palm was upturned and she could see the roughhewn calluses on his fingers and knuckles. His skin was clean though, the nails neatly trimmed and no dirt tucked in the nail beds. She’d never quite realized just how big Rowan actually was, in all these months. And here he was holding out a hand to her and all she could do was stare.

Like a maniac.

She dropped the binder into his hand. He barely twitched.

“I’ll just wait to hear from your…friend?” he asked.

“Lysandra Cavarre,” Aelin said. Technically Lysandra Ashryver, but Aelin really didn’t want to go into the complications of last names and what they meant. She’d made it this far without any association to her past, she could keep it up a while longer.

“Lysandra,” Rowan repeated, committing the name to memory. He nodded and accepted the binder onto his desk. “I’ll leave you to it then. You’ve got a lot of work to do if you think Lorcan’s going to agree to this easily.”

“Oh, he’s even more of a bastard than you,” Aelin replied quickly. She smiled as sweetly as she would if she were talking with someone she liked. “But I’m best friends with his girlfriend.”

With that, Aelin rose from her seat, collecting her bag as she went. When she reached the door, she turned back and smiled again.

“You won’t regret this.”

Just as she was pulling the door of his office shut behind her, she could have sworn she heard the soft murmur: Mala save me.

Aelin smirked to herself as she walked back through the house. If she was adding just a little bit of extra misery to Rowans day, she didn’t suppose that would be an issue. The grumpy buzzard deserved it.

She passed the kitchen where Sellene was sitting at the counter, a pile of books for school in front of her. Pausing, Aelin rerouted to just say hi to the Whitethorn cousin.

Sellene, a few years older than Aelin’s twenty-five, had always been a staple of the ranch. Even when she was doing her schooling, she’d taken time off to help raise her younger brother Endymion after their parents passed, she was almost always at the ranch. Now that Endymion had gone to his own college of choice, Sellene was now able to pursue her own desires.

“Hey, Sel,” Aelin greeted. She went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle.

“Hey Aelin,” Sellene said. “Rowan giving you a hard time?”

“Has he always been so cranky?” Aelin asked. She sighed and leaned against the counter as she rested her elbows on the granite.

Across from her, Sellene chuckled. “I guess you could say that. Just be glad he likes you.”

“Please.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “He hates me.”

“If he hated you, do you think he’d keep you around?” Sellene raised a brow in question. “He’s an ass, but he knows you work hard.”

Aelin wasn’t so sure of that. Really, she was convinced the only reason Rowan didn’t kick her off the ranch was because there were no other options for therapists to come out into the area. It had only taken half a day for Rowan to call her in for an interview when she’d first applied. The job offer came the next day.

“Whatever you say,” Aelin said. “You want to help me piss him off even more?”

Sellene sighed. “I would love to, unfortunately I am going to be headed out to visit Endymion during his break. It’s harder for him to leave his job.”

Aelin shouldn’t have been surprised. In the few months she’d been a part of the homestead she’d learned quickly that the Whitethorn cousins were a tight knit group. Still, it would have been fun to pit Sellene against Rowan at least for a little bit.

“That’ll be fun,” she said. “I’m sure he misses you.”

“Oh, I plan on embarrassing him to no end,” Sellene replied seriously. “He’s eighteen and thinks he’s the smartest person alive. The boy’s gotta learn some humility.”

Aelin snorted a laugh. Honestly, it was the same thing her own cousin would have said about her.

Sellene shut down her computer sighed. “But I am going to miss this place. It’s always the best being here during the holidays. It’ll be weird not to see it all.”

It was a strange sentiment to share and Aelin didn’t quite know how to respond. But she didn’t have time to ask about it. It was already getting late in the day and she needed to call Elide to enlist her help. And then tell Lysandra to send a deposit Rowan’s direction.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Aelin said, she’d have time to get more information from Sellene later.

“Yeah, good luck, Aelin,” Sellene said, smiling softly.

Aelin offered a wave before she hurried out of the house, phone in hand.

It only rang once before Elide answered.

“Elide?” she asked. “I need your help.”

…

For some reason, Rowan had thought that Aelin wouldn’t succeed in meeting the three conditions he’d set out for her. Because, really, how would she be able to convince Lorcan of all people to work over time?

He supposed this was his first lesson in not underestimating her because not half an hour after Aelin left his office the morning, he’d approved the project then he got a call from one Lysandra Cavarre asking for routing information that she could send money to.

By the end of the day, he’d gotten a text from Lorcan.

Your girlfriend’s a menace.

Rowan had stared at the message for entirely too long.

Not my girlfriend.

Lorcan’s brief response said more than anything else could: right.

The brief exchange caught Rowan off guard. Not only for the fact that Lorcan didn’t insult Aelin, but the mere idea of calling her his girlfriend. She was the bane of his existence. In the entirety of her time on the ranch she’d demanded change, created chaos, and riled him up with all her little remarks.

Aelin Galathynius sought to drive him insane. Even when he tried to return the favor, nothing he did seemed enough to deter her. She only rose to the challenge. He guessed he could respect her for that.

Three days after striking the deal with Aelin, Rowan woke early, as he usually did, and headed to the stables. They still had two weeks of preparation before the holidays but there was still plenty to do.

Rowan dressed quickly before heading to the kitchen where Sellene had left a smoothie and protein bar in the fridge for him. When there were kids or other guests staying in the cabins, there was a bigger fanfare made for breakfast. For now, this was usually what he got. He’d much prefer making his own food, but he always appreciated the effort from Sellene.

He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl as well and headed out to his truck. It was barely four-thirty in the morning but that was the life he’d set out for himself. He’d barely made it down the deck stairs when he noticed the other car sitting in the drive next to his.

Aelin was leaning against the side of her tiny car, wearing a large flannel and jeans tucked into a pair of boots. In her hands she held two thermoses.

“What?” She called out to him. “Did you sleep in?”

Rowan crossed the yard toward her. “The sun isn’t even up.”

“Yeah, I hate it.” She took a long sip from one of the thermos’ before thrusting the other at him. “Here. Black like your soul.”

Rowan stared at the thermos for a minute before he accepted it. “Thanks?”

The morning was dark, not even the horizon had started lighting, yet Rowan could still see the amusement playing in Aelin’s eyes as she watched him. Her hair hung in a long braid over one shoulder, a few tendrils escaped around her temples. She didn’t wear any makeup and still there was something so striking about the way she looked.

“It’s not poisoned,” she prompted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a sip of the coffee. It was strong and bitter, just as he liked.

“You said I’d need to help pick up the slack,” she said, following him as he walked to his truck. “So here I am.”

If he were being honest, Rowan was surprised. Aelin had never stuck him as the type to do manual labor. Or really work for that matter. Her wealth and status had been obvious the first time he’d met her. Then there was the car, the designer clothes, the manicures. When he’d hired her, all he’d received were glowing referrals. Another surprise. Even now he was still trying to reconcile his initial impressions of her to who she really was.

“Here you are,” Rowan agreed. He gave her another once over, unable to help but notice the curve of her hips beneath the open flannel. Dammit.

Shaking his head, he unlocked the truck. He could practically hear his mother yelling at him for not opening Aelin’s door for her, but his hands were full. Besides, Aelin didn’t seem to notice. She hopped up into the front seat. Her movements were graceful and easy as though she’d done so a hundred times before.

Rowan settled into his own seat and started the truck up. There was a small layer of frost on the windshield waiting for them. His least favorite part of the day was waiting for the heater to get into gear and finally warm up.

“Are you always up so early?” Aelin asked suddenly. She was huddled in her seat, staving off the chill which was the only thing about the early hour that seemed to be bothering her.

“Yeah,” Rowan said. “Unless Lorcan’s going to be in early. But I told him to take the later shift until he comes in for your event.”

Aelin hummed at that as she took a long sip of her own coffee. “Interesting. You should get more sleep. It’s good for you.”

“I’m in the wrong business for that, princess,” he muttered.

“Don’t call me that,” Aelin said. She cut him a glare, her lip curling slightly.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because.” Another sip of her coffee.

Rowan said nothing and tried clearing the windshield. It cleared well enough. He at least wouldn’t be out on the open road, so a few skiffs of remaining ice weren’t the end of the world. Putting the truck in gear, he backed up a bit before turning.

“Are you always such a morning person?” he asked as they headed down the long drive.

“Hell no.” Aelin made a face. “If I had it my way I wouldn’t get out of bed until noon. This is my second round of coffee. Do you have any idea how much I am not looking forward to today? It’s going to be miserable. The worst. I hate mornings.”

She spoke with such vehemence that Rowan wondered if there really was a way for morning to be such a real entity for someone to hate. It was also amusing, especially the way her nose crinkled in disgust.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can’t hate that.”

“It’s pitch black and I can see my breath,” she deadpanned. Sighing she adjusted in her seat. “C’mon, buzzard, you wouldn’t rather be in bed still? All warm and snuggled up?”

“No,” he said.

Aelin chuckled in that nonsense sort of way she had. “Hmm, right. Even you have to admit a lazy morning in is fun. With the right company.”

Rowan stared staunchly forward. Though, he could still see that insufferable grin of Aelin’s out of the corner of his eye.

“Ignoring me now?” she pressed.

The sight of the stables had never been more glorious.

“No, you’re just impossible.”

“Thank-you.”

Rowan parked the truck in its usual spot and tried hard not to smile. He settled with an eye roll.

“Let’s go buzzard,” Aelin said. She threw the door open and hopped out of the truck. “Show me the ropes.”

If there was one thing Rowan knew to be true—it was going to be a long day. Though as he clambered out of the truck himself, the thought didn’t seem as heavy as it once may have been.

…

In the end, the day wasn’t bad. In fact, things ran far smoother than Rowan had been expecting. He’d thought that by having Aelin shadowing him things would go a lot slower and he’d have trouble getting everything done, but she was a ready student.

She handled feed buckets with ease, tied perfect knots on the first try, she even mucked stalls without complaint. If Rowan didn’t know any better, he’d have said she’d spent time in a barn before. A lot of time. She seemed to know her way around the equipment, knew the terms, and sometimes reacted before he even needed to give instruction.

When he tried to ask her about it, she told him he was insane.

It wasn’t the first time someone had lied to him, but he figured it wasn’t worth trying to needle the information out of her.

The routine continued for the rest of the week. Aelin would be at the ranch first thing in the morning with coffee and they’d work all day together until dinner when they’d return to the main house.

“You know you still have a room in the house, right?” Rowan asked one morning. “You don’t have to do this back and forth.”

“Oh,” Aelin looked out her window as they passed familiar pastures. “I guess…I figured you wouldn’t want me there? Sellene’s gone and all, why not have the place to yourself?”

It was true, Rowan often enjoyed his time alone unless he went into town to have a drink with Lorcan, Fenrys, and Connall. A recluse, Aelin had called him on occasion.

The strange thing about it was…Rowan didn’t think he would have minded Aelin being around more. She drove him mad, more often than not, but even in the last few weeks (days really) there had been a subtle shift. One that he didn’t know how to identify.

“Your friend is coming with the new group of kids, right?” Shifting the conversation seemed the safer option so he didn’t hesitate.

“She and her husband,” Aelin agreed, he didn’t miss the look she gave him. “They were planning on staying at the house, if that’s still alright?”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of space,” Rowan said. The house was enormous with five separate rooms and four bathrooms. His great-grandfather had always wanted a home to welcome as many guests as possible so new additions were added on continuously in the early years. His own parents had hoped to keep the house full of children. In the end, it was only Rowan who waged war upon the floorboards.

Aelin nodded absently, her fingers drumming on her thermos absently. “I’ll come up with them and stay the week before and during.”

“Alright,” Rowan said. The drive to the stables that morning was the same as ever with only another light dusting of snow falling from the sky. As late December encroached, it wouldn’t surprise him if they were due for a storm.

“They’ll be coming tomorrow, I think,” Aelin said, “Lys and Aedion.”

Rowan started. “Aedion Ashryver?”

In her seat, Aelin visibly flinched. She covered it almost seamlessly as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sat up a little straighter.

“He’s an ass,” Aelin told him. “Though, very good looking.”

Rowan could only stare. The Ashryvers were practically celebrities in the world of horses and ranch work. Evalin and her sister Andra made waves when they were young for their work in showing horses, not just in contemporary riding, but racing, and rodeo. They’d set a standard for those that would come after as they changed the equestrian world for years to come.

He didn’t know much of what had happened to either woman after they’d aged out. Only that they continued to run a ranch out in the countryside of Terrasen for breeding and training. He knew there had been a scandal of some sort five or six years ago involving a rider and a trainer, but the story evaded him.

When they got to the stables, Lorcan’s own truck was already there and he’d turned on the floodlights to help beckon in the rising dawn. They were still a week out from when the Christmas group of kids would come, so Lorcan shouldn’t have even been there.

Rowan glanced at Aelin who didn’t seem the least bit surprised at the sight.

“How did you get him to agree to this?” Rowan asked.

“I can be very convincing,” Aelin replied simply. “And Elide.”

Not sure he wanted to know the full details in that, Rowan let the rest of the conversation drop.

As always, Lorcan remained in his quiet way. He went about his usual duties without comment, only nodding in acknowledgment as Rowan and Aelin entered the stables.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping in?” Rowan asked. He rested his keys on the rack beside the doors, not yet ready to take off his coat to the morning chill.

“Couldn’t,” Lorcan replied with a shrug. He nodded to Aelin. “Regretting your choices yet?”

“Nope.” Aelin smiled brightly. She took a long sip of her coffee and went to the row of shelves reserved for personal items.

Lorcan shot Rowan a look that he ignored. They’d had plenty of conversations about Aelin and the week she had planned for the holiday. Besides, if Lorcan couldn’t say no to Aelin (even if Elide wasn’t a factor) they were both idiots.

Knowing better than to try and tease Lorcan about how quickly he’d fallen for Elide, he crossed the stables to where his friend was working on preparing some equipment.

“What’ve you already taken care of?” He and Aelin had gotten a slightly late start for the day--a mix of him waking up late and the frost and Aelin needing to steal breakfast from him.

“Not much,” Lorcan admitted, “everything’s pretty much good. The vet’s coming around for check-ups this afternoon.”

“Do you know how the cabins are looking?”

Lorcan shrugged. “Probably about the same as when the last group left.”

That shouldn’t have surprised him. “We’ll go take a look then come back to help prep for the vet visit.”

“Sure,” Lorcan said. He glanced to where Aelin was kneeling before the ranch pig, dubbed Ex because it had been Endymion’s turn to pick a name. The finalists of names fell between Frank and Excali-wilbur and Endymion did not disappoint. “Have you told her yet?”

Rowan scowled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure,” Lorcan said, scraping off a bit of dirt from an old bridle set. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The words sat heavy with Rowan the rest of the day. He knew that Lorcan just liked screwing with him on occasion. But there was also a part of him that worried if there was truth to Lorcan’s ominous words. He really didn’t see what it mattered though--whether he was going to sell the ranch or not was his own business.

He really didn’t see what the difference was if he continued to owned the ranch or not. Sellene and Endymion hadn’t expressed any in taking the land over for themselves and they were the only living relatives Rowan knew about. Theirs were the only opinions that mattered.

Still, by the time he and Aelin finished getting the cabins ready for the guests in the coming weeks, he couldn’t help but feel a niggling sense of guilt. He kept tamping it down of course.

It wasn’t until mid-day that the vet came around that Rowan was finally able to turn his thoughts in different directions. They had two pregnant mares in the stables that year which was the biggest concern Rowan had. They’d both foaled before but there was still plenty of room for things to go wrong. Besides them, there were six other horses to be looked over. It was usually a two-day affair, especially when weather got a little dodgy, but the vet seemed confident they’d finish up by the end of the day.

While the vet was in with Farasha, Rowan realized he hadn’t seen Aelin for a bit. He might have had his misgivings about her, but she’d proven herself to be responsible and attentive in all her recent duties. Even if she didn’t like horses.

Rowan glanced around the main floor of the stables before heading to the back stalls where the two pregnant mare’s were settled. It was the warmest part of the large barn with the largest stalls. His boots scuffed in a bit of hay as he went and he almost missed the soft voice talking to the horses.

Diana and Hessina, thankfully got along alright. Sometimes pregnant mares could get a little feisty with each other, but the two had been inseparable when they’d been born the same season almost six years ago now. Rowan remembered the day.

He stopped just outside Hessina’s stall and what he saw made him question just about everything he thought he knew.

Standing in Hessina’s stall with a set of brushes and other items was Aelin. She carefully ran a curry brush over Hessina’s coat in methodic movements. All the while she continued to talk softly to the mare.

“Alright, mama,” Aelin said, “let’s get you cleaned up. You deserve it don’t you? Especially before baby gets here, huh? Look at you so pretty standing here for me.”

For a minute, Rowan thought he’d wandered into an alternate reality. In all the months of her being on the ranch, Aelin had never approached one of the horses so willingly. She’d kept her distance from the barn and the animals beside the pig and the goats. He’d never have expected her to spend time with any of the horses, let alone grooming them. And doing so with obvious practice and ease.

“I thought you hated horses?” he found himself saying.

Aelin froze. It was the first time he’d ever caught her off guard.

“I never said that,” she replied. She traded out brushes and ran a shedding blade over Hessina next.

“You’ve never spent more than a minute with any of the horses in all the time you’ve been here,” Rowan said.

He entered the stall and grabbed a brush to use on Hessina’s mane. Somehow, no matter what he or any of the stable hands tried, the long hair always got tangled even if they were careful to brush it the day before.

“That doesn’t mean I hate them,” Aelin said. Her voice was soft, lilting in that way she’d used when she was addressing Hessina specifically. “Not when they’re such pretty girls.”

Her long fingers ran over Hessina’s sides, pausing over the swell of the mare’s belly. It seemed as though she knew exactly how to handle a horse. Or at least where to massage a pregnant mare’s muscles effectively or how to run a flat brush over the coat to leave it gleaming. Truth be told, he’d never seen Hessina looked as relaxed as she did now under Aelin’s ministrations. No matter what Aelin said, she was a natural.

Rowan tugged at Hessina’s mane with as much care as he could. But he noted the twitch of her ears.

“Sorry,” he murmured, knowing he’d pulled too hard. He glanced back to Aelin. “Seriously, you’ve never spent this much time with the horses before. You know how to care for them. And you can make a decent knot. I thought you were a city girl?”

Aelin shrugged, walking to Hessina’s other side. “I am a city girl.”

“No.” Rowan shook his head. “There’s more to you than that.”

They stood across from each other now, more or less. And Aelin wouldn’t meet his gaze as she brushed out Hessina’s other side. Her lips thinned and Rowan knew she was thinking deeply on something.

“I used to read all the horse books I could,” she finally said, “made my mom buy them all for me. I had a whole bookshelf devoted to them. And then I grew up.”

Her hands paused, fingers grazing over a few stray bits of Hessina’s mane. A stray thought took her mind far away from that place. Far enough that she stopped brushing entirely. Hessina took offense to that and nickered, dipping her head back towards Aelin.

Chuckling, Aelin reached out and scratched the mare’s nose before she continued brushing.

“What about you, Whitethorn,” she asked, blue eyes sparking with delight as she finally looked at him. “Were you always in a horse boy phase or did it come suddenly?”

He rolled his eyes. “I grew up on this ranch, it’s all I know.”

Aelin paused at his words. She looked as though she wanted to something, but the words were lost on her. Instead, she shook her head and nodded at his work.

“You’re making that worse, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said defensively.

No matter what he said though, Aelin came over to take a look at the work he was doing on the mane.

“A girl’s pride is in her hair,” she said, whether to him or Hessina, Rowan had no idea.

He could only watch as Aelin took over detangling and brushing. Her hands were soft as she tugged and brushed. Occasionally she would murmur something and give the mare an affectionate pat on the neck.

What he didn’t notice was how close he and Aelin were standing, not at first. But the second he realized it; it was all he could think about. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her and he could still smell the lemon verbena of her shampoo in her hair. Even with the bit of sweat and dirt that lingered on her skin.

There was something about watching the methodical way she worked that was mesmerizing. Nothing seemed to frustrate her as she went even when something didn’t detangle immediately or if she had to make a bigger mess in order to get things right. She would only hum under her breath and continue.

“Do you—” she began to speak and spun almost directly into him. She made a small noise of surprise and stumbled just a bit before Rowan reached out to steady her. “Hell. Sorry.”

She blinked up at him with those bright blue eyes and he noticed a ring of gold around the pupils adding to that light that always seemed to illuminate her.

Gripping her arms, he waited until she regained her footing before slowly pulling away.

“You good?”

Aelin nodded; mouth parted slightly as though she were about to say something.

The illusion shattered when Lorcan called out from the main stable.

“Whitethorn, get out here!”

It was probably better that way—for Rowan to leave Aelin there. She turned back to Hessina and kept talking with those soft words and gentle inflections. Whatever spell had been over them was long gone. Though that was for the better. Rowan didn’t need to get close to Aelin. Not now.

So, he tried to forget about the last ten minutes and went to help Lorcan with whatever it was he needed.

…

When she was eighteen, Aelin had her first serious crush.

It was different than all the other little sparks she’d ever gotten before. It was different, new, and completely reckless. Oh, she’d never acted on it, not exactly. And maybe it was better that way. Because in the coming year (and several years after) Aelin would come to realize that boys, men, would never treat her well. Especially not the ones that had country written into their bones.

So when she came to Whitethorn ranch at the beginning of the summer, she’d told herself it was for the experience. It was for the work she loved. It was for the kids who needed help.

And then there was Rowan.

They’d clashed the entirety of their working relationship and Aelin really didn’t know how she’d lasted as long as she did. And here she was now, on the brink December and the New Year right around the corner.

She sighed and straightened the small room designated for her at the main house. Rowan had let her off for the two days leading up to the main camp days when Lysandra and Aedion would be arriving.

The room was the next biggest aside from the master suite that Rowan slept in. With its own bathroom and the large window that overlooked the back western side of the ranch with the mountains in the distance—Aelin loved it.

It was already decorated with a few things of the Whitethorn family. A few black and white photos from the early days, hand embroidery frames, and a few porcelain figures in the inlaid shelving. It was simple and homey and for whatever reason, Aelin didn’t feel the need to change anything. Except for the piles of books and a few pictures of her own family.

As she straightened things up, and prepared the bedroom across the hall for Lys and Aedion, she couldn’t help but think of the last few days with Rowan.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but they hadn’t killed each other. There weren’t even any attempts. Sure, their words held just as many barbs as before, but it felt different. Or maybe she was just hoping there was something different.

For as much as she complained about how small Oakwald was and how difficult working on the ranch and the therapy work here was--she wanted to make this home. She wanted this to be a place she could put down roots. Here, no one knew her past. No one knew who her family was. No one knew every little detail about who she was other than simple being Aelin.

Her phone started ringing at the same time a series of honks echoed from the front of the house. Grinning, Aelin answered the phone already knowing who was on the other line.

“Are you here?” she demanded.

“Bitch, what do you think?” Lysandra said on the other line. In the background Aelin could hear Aedion: stop honking the horn, Lys. She knows.

“I’ll be down in a second,” Aelin chuckled.

She flew from her room and down the stairs of the house. She barely bothered with the slippers waiting by the front door before she threw the front door open.

The SUV hadn’t even come to a full stop before the passenger door opened and Lysandra got out. Her long dark hair hung loose and she wore a simple gray sweater and jeans. She screamed when she saw Aelin and ran across the yard toward her.

Aelin met her halfway, pulling her friend into a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Lysandra was saying as she continued to hug Aelin. “It’s been so boring without you.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone with Aedion,” Aelin teased. She pulled back, grinning.

Aedion huffed as he came around the SUV. His blond hair, so similar to Aelin’s, long enough to just barely fit into a low tie, his handsome features slightly distorted with a scowl.

“I love you too, Aelin,” he said, trying and failing to hold his disapproving look.

Aelin launched herself at her cousin. It had been a while since they’d seen each other between work and distance. But she was grateful he had chosen to come and help both her and Lys.

“You do love me,” she insisted, “I introduced you to your wife, after all.”

Aedion pulled back with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, I’m forever in your debt.”

“I know,” Aelin said seriously. She then turned and linked arms with Lysandra. “C’mon, I’ve got a room ready for you.”

Her friend didn’t immediately follow through, instead turning in the cold morning air, taking in the sweeping blue skies and acres and acres of land surrounding them.

“Seriously, Aelin, where are we? This feels like a step out of time.”

She’d thought the same thing when first arriving. “It’s better in summer and you're not freezing your butt off.”

Indeed, during the winter the sun could be out and bright and happy like it was now, but it was still cold enough to want to literally crawl into a fireplace and never come back out like some sort of dragon.

Aedion offered to get the bags, letting Aelin and Lysandra head up to the house.

“So,” Lysandra said as they went to the kitchen. “Where’s Rowan?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “He’s at the stables finishing things up.”

“But he’ll be here later?” Lysandra pressed; one brow raised.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been sleeping under the same roof and nothing’s happened?” Lysandra scoffed and accepted a proffered glass of water.

“Please, Lys, he’s my boss. And an ass.” Aelin turned to find snacks or something else to offer while her cheeks flushed at Lysandra’s words.

“Mm-hm,” Lysandra hummed with obvious doubt. “I’ve looked him up, he’s hot.”

“Lysandra!” Aelin spun on her friend who let out a cackle.

“You should see your face,” Lysandra laughed. “You know I’m right.”

“He’s made my life miserable,” Aelin said, “and, like I said, he’s an ass.”

“Right.” Lysandra merely sipped her water and sighed. “You keep saying that.”

Much to Aelin’s appreciation, Aedion entered the house, bags in hand. She left Lysandra in the kitchen and showed Aedion to the room she’d set up for the two of them. It was the one room just a little more isolated than the others, but that just made it feel a little cozier. Which she didn’t think they’d mind.

From there, the rest of the day was relatively nice. Even with Lysandra’s continued teasing about Rowan. Thankfully, she kept most of it up when Aedion wasn’t around.

Aelin gave them a tour of the house and immediate grounds before heading out to the cabins reserved for the kids that would be arriving in the next several days.

She and Lysandra were able to go over the various activities and group sessions and plan out where each would take place and how transport would work. Thankfully, the main house was a good central point and should the weather stay nice, walking wouldn’t be an issue.

“There’s supposed to be a storm,” Aelin said at one point, “but they’ve been saying it would happen for two weeks now, and nothing. I think it’ll just hit Denver and move on.”

That was the hope. But Aelin wouldn’t let herself worry about a snow storm right now. They had a contingency plan in place, but the weather had been cooperating thus far that she doubted it would be an issue.

Later that night as they were fixing dinner, Aedion broke out his excellent cooking skills with a chicken and vegetable skillet, Rowan finally returned home.

“Welcome back, Buzzard!” Aelin called when she heard the door open and shut. She also heard the way he paused while trying to decide if he could get out of being social. “We just made dinner, come join us.”

Lysandra shot her a look, but Aelin ignored it. Instead, she got an extra plate ready as Rowan slowly trudged into the kitchen.

“This is Lysandra and Aedion,” Aelin said, “Lys founded the group that we’re hosting next week. And her husband, Aedion, is the muscle.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t mention that Aedion was her cousin, but the admission just felt off. Aelin had spent so long distancing herself from her mother’s name and the attention that it got that it just felt natural not to bring it up. Besides, that wasn’t the point of this visit or the event they’d worked so hard on.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Rowan said, he didn’t smile, but Aelin supposed him joining them all for dinner was good enough.

“We’re just running through the week,” Aelin said. She handed him his plate which he accepted. “Is there anything you wanted to talk about with the itinerary I gave you?”

Rowan didn’t answer immediately. He settled in his seat next to her and took a bite of his food, thinking. Or just avoiding talking.

“Nah,” he said after a minute. “Everything looks fine. There’s going to be ten kids in total?”

“Maybe eight,” Lysandra spoke up, “it’s a little hard to get exact numbers right now. Some kids are being shuffled so close to the holidays and their guardians are being…difficult.” She made a disgruntled sort of face. “But I know for sure eight of them are ready to go. The other two we’re waiting on some consent forms.”

It wasn’t anything surprising to Aelin. But they would make the best of it and hopefully all the kids they’d planned for would come.

“There’s plenty of room no matter who chooses to come,” Rowan said, “so that’s not a problem.”

“You said you’re not going to be around on the Friday after Christmas though, right?” Aelin asked. He hadn’t told her why or what he was doing, just that there was business on the ranch that needed taking care of. She thought better than asking for more details especially when he was so guarded about the affair in general.

Rowan paused for a heartbeat in his ravenous eating and Aelin almost wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way his eyes skirted to hers and dipped away just as quickly.

“I’ve got a meeting planned most of the day,” he said, “but if anything goes wrong—”

“They’ll be fine.” Aedion spoke up with a wave of his hand. “If there’s anyone who knows how to embrace chaos to her advantage it’s Aelin.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, passing the water pitcher around the table. “I stole my dad’s truck once and it worked out fine.”

“I’m talking about the time you set off all those fireworks and nearly set the house on fire, but thanks for proving my point.” Aedion grinned at her glare.

Rowan only shook his head from beside her. “What the hell kind of childhood did you have?”

“Normal, perfectly normal.” Aelin said. Desperate to keep the conversation moving and away from any revelation of how she and Aedion were related, she kept talking. “Besides, none of that will be happening this week. I didn’t have time to find any fireworks.”

“Please,” Lysandra said, “you don’t even try not to cause problems. Remember in college you stole that frats keg?”

“Because Archer Finn plagiarized my report on Edgar Allen--you know, he was an ass that’s all that matters.” Aelin had done a lot of questionable things in the name of justice. But stealing that keg was damn near the top of the list considering the fact she nabbed it in the middle of the biggest party of the semester. Truly remarkable. “So it was less of a problem and more karma calling his name.”

“So,” Rowan said, glancing over at her, “you really have been a menace all these years?”

She should have been affronted by his teasing but with the way he was actually smiling with amusement burning in his eyes and the levity of the night—Aelin found she couldn’t be mad. Because here, for this small moment, Aelin wasn’t scared about what the future might hold.

…

Despite the teasing of her cousin and Lysandra, Aelin really did exist best in chaos. She wasn’t at all intimidated when the week officially started for the outreach program. She didn’t even have panicked stress dreams about it either. Everything had been planned out in detail. It was going to be a success.

And everything her friends had done to help make it possible just warmed Aelin all the more. Between all that Lysandra and Aedion did on their end, to Elide volunteering her days when she wasn’t needed at the bar, and Lorcan willfully helping out (through whatever bribery Elide had offered), everything started off without a hitch.

The thing about therapy that Aelin loved the most was the breakthroughs. The understanding that came with trauma and healing. It was often a long hard journey, but it happened. And when you worked with kids? It made the work all the better.

The week wouldn’t be focused on the talk therapy of it all though. Mostly they’d be going on hikes, cooking in the main house, learning about the horses and caring for them, and then a little of the therapy side. This week was about feeling safe and finding joy in an otherwise hard spot of life and Aelin was determined to help offer that bit of peace.

After all the kids arrived, twelve total and ranging from twelve to seventeen years old, everything continued as expected. The kids were paired off closer to their ages into the two different cabins and it all seemed to be working for the best.

Aelin found that two of the younger kids, Evangeline and Luca, were the more hesitant of being there. Despite Luca’s outgoing nature, Aelin could tell there was a bit of worry in his attitude as he always seemed to look to her for approval in any of the activities they did. Evangeline always sidled over to Lysandra. It wasn’t a strange occurrence, just one they needed to be careful with.

Though, if Aelin knew Lysandra like she did, her friend had done work with Evangeline before and was fiercely protective of her now.

“How many s’mores can these kids eat?” Rowan asked one night.

They were having an outdoor campfire with s’mores and other treats while Elide of all people told scary stories.

“Sugar is an essential food group, buzzard,” Aelin reminded him, “especially for teens.”

They stood just a bit away from the fire pit outside two of the cabins, just far enough away to not be distracting. It was Thursday meaning the week would officially finish out on Monday and the ranch would be able to return to its usual winter hours and day to day functions. Aelin was a little upset by the idea, but she was sure Rowan was as giddy as he could be over the prospect.

“I thought that was just you,” Rowan said.

Aelin kicked him with the toe of her boot. If her hands hadn’t been stuffed into the pockets of her coat, she might have flipped him off.

“Ha, ha,” she said.

“Seriously,” Rowan continued, “I’ve seen the stash you think you’re hiding in the kitchen.”

“Chocolate is good for the soul,” Aelin sniffed, “and I recommend the occasional indulgence as a therapist.”

Rowan shook his head, looking out over the fields behind them. A ghost of a smile fell across his lips and even in the flickering shadows of the fire, Aelin thought it was the most beautiful sight.

“Occasional indulgence, sure,” he murmured.

“We can’t all love kale as much as you do,” Aelin said. She’d seen what he came home with from the store. Kale and zucchini and any myriad of health foods.

He only smiled at her and Aelin felt it like a punch to the gut. She had no idea what had happened in the last few weeks, but somewhere along the way the loathing had simmered away to…appreciation? Admiration? Whatever the feeling was, she didn’t know where it came from, but it was here all the same.

“Thank-you for agreeing to this Rowan,” she said, before she could lose her nerve. “For agreeing to let us host this week and letting these kids come here. I know it’s not the most convenient thing. But I know it means a lot to them.”

And me, she added silently.

His smile fell just a touch. “Aelin—”

Whatever else he was about to say was swallowed up by Lysandra announcing it was time to head off to bed. The quiet contentment of the night disbanded as the kids all voiced their complaints and pleads for another story. Apparently Elide’s tales about bloodthirsty witches were all the rage.

But it was well nearing eleven and they’d all been up late enough as it was and Aelin herself was exhausted. They rounded everybody up and had them filter off to their cabins. Elide and Lorcan would serve as chaperones that night, giving Lysandra and Aedion a break.

Hopefully it would put a stop to a small issue growing between Luca and one of the other boys, Aelin didn’t know all the details as Luca refused to talk further about it, but she was worried nonetheless. And even if she wasn’t sure about the idea of Lorcan as a chaperone, Rowan assured her that he was surprisingly good with kids. Aelin decided she would trust Rowan on that front, and let the issue slide. For now.

…

Friday dawned dark and chilly. The sky was full of gray clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. It made Aelin feel boxed in even if there was still just as much open air as before. But those clouds hung low and didn’t budge.

She tried to not let it bother her, it was bound to happen eventually. And in this area the weather was always changing. By the afternoon there would be a break in the clouds and the sun would return. Or else they’d just get a light skiff of snow.

The day was being treated as a small rest day, of sorts. The kids had helped cook breakfast for everyone, played a few games outside, and they were now headed out to the stables to help build a shed for the goats.

It was less of build and more of a supervision. If the kids wanted to help they could, if not, Aelin had it on good authority the goats enjoyed chasing people as a game. Plus, one of the stable hands that had volunteered to help out was a master sling-shot expert and could take the kids to the side of the barn to practice their skills (on non-living targets).

They got to the stables just after lunch and clean-up. This was going to fill most of the rest of the day and then lead into a few individual sessions with the kids. No one had mentioned that it was Christmas or anything of the sort and none of the kids seemed to be having any major issues. But Aelin wanted to have a chance to talk with them and see if this week had helped them at all. From what she could tell it hadn’t done any irreparable damage, but kids could be excellent at masking their emotions if they really wanted to.

As the building commenced, Aelin took note of Rowan’s truck outside the stables in its usual spot. Beside it was another car, a Tesla of all things. She’d thought Rowan was supposed to be in a business meeting, not at the stables.

She made sure the kids were all occupied doing what they were supposed to, or at least just having fun, before she walked over to where Lorcan was exchanging water for one of the troughs.

“Is Rowan here today?” she asked without preamble.

Lorcan raised a brow and leaned against the fence, balancing the empty blue water barrel beside him. “What?”

“Rowan,” she said, gesturing to his truck. “I didn’t think he would be on the property today.”

Looking away from her, Lorcan ran a hand over his jaw. It was obvious he was trying to decide what to say exactly and that made trepidation rise in Aelin’s throat.

“He’s here, I can’t tell you more than that though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Lorcan said, pushing off of the fence, “that you can talk to Rowan about it.”

He walked away then, leaving Aelin to mull over the words that she already didn’t like. She watched him trek back to the stables and a part of her expected to see Rowan walking out as though waiting for that exact moment.

It was foolish, she knew. Whatever worry was gnawing at her gut was unfounded and she didn’t need to get caught up on this.

Aelin forced herself back to where the kids were helping out with nails and plywood, a few had wandered off to stack crates together which the goats started climbing on with ease. She came to a stop beside Lysandra, stuffing her hands into her coat against another stiff breeze. The air smelled cold, if that could even be a scent. But she didn’t know how else to describe that stiff, clean sterility.

“What’s up?” Lysandra asked, leaning into her.

“Nothing,” Aelin replied, glancing one more time at the stables. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

Lysandra didn’t look convinced. She remained quiet though as she returned her attention out to the paddock of goats and kids.

Aelin did her best to try and pay attention to the kids and offer encouragement and commentary where needed, but her mind was elsewhere. Which, she knew was stupid. She shouldn’t be thinking about Rowan and what was going on with him and his “business meeting” if that’s what was really going on. And she shouldn’t even care whether or not it was for business. Right?

A part of her did care though. A part of her wondered what his meeting was about and why he hadn’t gone into detail about it with her. She knew they weren’t technically business partners, but she did a lot of work for him all the same. And the things that she did were specific to the business and therapy modem that Whitethorn ranch was known for. Shouldn’t she be at least a little involved?

Half an hour later, Aelin had almost completely distracted herself until she heard the sound of Rowan’s low voice. She spun towards it, already knowing what she would say to him. But the second she turned it wasn’t Rowan that caught her attention. It was the well-dressed man walking beside him.

Aelin felt her entire body seize up as a cold numbness swept through her. Static crackled in her ears and her mouth went dry.

Because there beside Rowan was the man who had ruined Aelin’s life.

With auburn hair hanging loose around his face and gray suit that never seemed to wrinkle or stain--Arobynn Hamel looked the same as the day Aelin last saw him. She still hadn’t been released from the hospital after the accident, still unsure if she’d be able to walk again, and still unsure what her life would look like. But she’d held on to hope. She’d held on long enough for him to come and place blame directly on her shoulders before sauntering away as though he couldn’t have cared less about what happened to her.

She’d been nineteen then. Nineteen and convinced that he was supposed to be the answer to all her problems. That was the thing about glorifying people when you were a kid, you never understood just what a dangerous game that was.

She tried reaching out for Lysandra, but her friend had entered the goat paddock to help hold a few boards in place. She was alone. Alone and watching the second Arobynn saw her. He immediately made a b-line towards her.

“Well, well,” Arobynn said as he approached. Just as he’d always been, he had that cold arrogance about him. It was the same sort of swagger than everyone in their circles had. The kind of money and stature, that he was better than everyone else around him. He had to be in his mid-thirties now. Though, he didn’t look it. He was just as handsome as ever. “Aelin. What a pleasant surprise.”

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. Swallow and look past that perfectly charming smile he wore. “Hamel. What are you doing here?”

Arobynn merely smiled, stretching his arms. “You don’t know? Rowan and I are in the midst of a business deal.”

Behind Arobynn, Rowan appeared. He looked just the same as he always did: brooding, stoic, and pissed to hell and back. His green eyes flicked between Aelin and Arobynn, scowl deepening.

Aelin felt the pit in her stomach grow and she swore she was going to vomit. She did her best to remain in control of her emotions as she looked at Rowan.

“What deal, Rowan?” she asked. Though, she already knew the answer, didn't she?

“I’m buying the land,” Arobynn answered before Rowan could. “I’ve been expanding my business, didn’t you know?”

No, she didn’t. Because Aelin had done everything in her power to avoid anything that had to do with Hamel in the last several years.

As though sensing her distress, Arobynn flashed another sharp smile. “I look forward to working with you again, Aelin. Just like old times, isn’t it?”

There was nothing she could say. She couldn’t trust herself not to yell or scream or cry or any combination of the three. That would be showing weakness. And she was not weak.

“I’ll have my attorney look over your offer,” Rowan said quietly, drawing Hamel’s attention again. “We’ll be in contact.”

“Good,” Arobynn said, “I’d rather see this done sooner than later. Whitethorn.”

Without any semblance of pleasantries, Arobynn left them and returned to his car. That stupid silver Tesla that looked like a box and had no business being out on a farm. For all Aelin cared it could go crash in a borough and get waylaid by hay and snow. It wasn’t until the car silently pulled away and back down that Aelin felt her own voice return.

“You’re selling?” It was more of an accusation than anything.

Rowan straightened; arms still crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

“Why?” At least her voice wasn’t shaking. At least she still sounded somewhat in control.

“Because I have to,” Rowan replied, but he looked away from her and Aelin knew that wasn’t the truth of it. “The why doesn’t even matter Aelin, you wouldn’t understand.”

A laugh escaped her. Of course she wouldn’t. Because she’d only been here a few short months, she wasn’t really a part of the life here or any of where the ranch had come from. But she’d still put her blood, sweat, and tears into the ranch. She’d wanted to see it succeed, that’s why Rowan had even hired her as a part time trauma specialist, wasn’t it?

“I know enough about this place,” she said, “it’s a staple of the community, of honest good work that no one else does, Rowan. I know that much. I understand that much. That it’s helped more people get unstuck from life than just about any other program I’ve seen.”

He only shook his head, hand running through his hair. The silver locks fell over his brow and for a moment, for one brief moment, Aelin thought she saw a part of him that she could reconcile with. A softer allusion of the hard contours that Rowan often displayed.

“My reasons are my own,” he said firmly. His eyes sparked with anger as he watched her. “And it doesn’t really matter beyond that. I can't keep doing this. And--why do you even care? It won’t even affect you that much. Hamel’s going to keep it as a horse ranch mostly, and agrees with the work going on. I don't think he'd change much. He obviously likes you, so you can do whatever you want.”

Aelin couldn’t hide her flinch. She tucked her arms around her middle more as an effort of protection and hiding than anything else. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Aelin. You don’t need me here,” Rowan said, “this place will do well enough without me.”

“So you’re giving up?” She could only stare at him. This wasn’t the Rowan Whitethorn she’d come to know, the one that she fought with on a daily basis. This was someone else entirely.

“It’s none of your business, Aelin.”

“I’m a part of this ranch, aren’t I? I’ve been here for months, and for what?”

“I never asked you to stick around.” Rowan let out an exasperated huff.

“He’s not a good man, Rowan,” Aelin said. Most of the fight had gone out of her, replaced with dread and pain. “You don’t want him buying this land, your home.”

“He’s rich, what does it matter?” Rowan pressed. “He’ll be able to do more with this place than I ever could.”

Aelin could only shake her head. Yes, Arobynn was rich. Rich enough that he could whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. She tilted her head up just in time to catch a snowflake on her cheek. The small chill was electrifying on her hot skin. Slowly, more flakes continued to fall, fat and thick it looked like the forecast had finally chosen to be right.

“I can’t do this,” she finally said, “I’m going to check on the kids.”

She didn’t wait for Rowan to try and call her back. She didn’t realize until she was entering the goat paddock that she had wanted him to.

…

It wasn’t until later that night as the kids were eating that Aelin had a moment to talk with Lysandra. The snow had picked up and continued to fall throughout the afternoon driving them all inside, which after a week full of activities and being outside continually--it was a welcome break.

They were inside one of the cabins, pizza and soda spread out for the kids to enjoy. Almost everything about the day had gone well. If you didn’t count the Hamel matter. The distraction and reality of what her life was spiraling towards wasn’t the best way to head into individual sessions, but Aelin had learned long ago how to compartmentalize.

Now, she was able to feel a little more relaxed as she and Lysandra were able to sit back while the kids started a terrible round of UNO.

“He’s so lucky I didn’t see him,” Lysandra said around a mouthful of pizza. “I would have kicked him in the balls then dragged his ass around from the back of a tractor, you know I would’ve.”

“I know,” Aelin assured her.

She picked at her pizza, appetite long since gone. All she could think about was the fact that she’d seen and spoken with Hamel. And she’d survived it.

It was strange, being faced with a reality you thought was finally put behind you. But that was life, wasn’t it? You just kept learning the same lesson over and over again. She just wondered what she was supposed to learn this time around.

“Did he say anything to Rowan?” Lysandra asked. “Does Rowan know anything?”

“I hope not,” Aelin said. That would just be icing on the cake.

Her past was a mess as it was. Rehashing it and telling her side of things after someone had already been exposed to the lies of the story—well it wouldn’t do any good.

Still, Aelin didn’t want to think that Rowan knew about what had transpired. Or if he’d think any different about her over it. Most people did when they learned the truth and even if she was mad at him, Aelin didn’t think she could bear Rowan looking at her any different.

The story began back when she was sixteen. Sixteen and in the throes of series equestrian training. And she wasn’t the type to show in the dressage. Aelin was a competitive rider in barrel racing, jumping, and the grittier events. Her former trainer had just moved and who was to fill the position than Arobynn Hamel.

His methods were brutal and his words were cruel. But young as she was, Aelin could only see what he could make of her. And her parents had been none the wiser either.

Even after the drugs and borderline abuse.

Aelin shook off the memories. “It doesn’t matter if Rowan knows or not, does it? He isn’t going to stick around. He made that clear.”

“Are you going to stay,” Lysandra asked. Her voice was painfully soft and Aelin had a hard time meeting her friend’s eyes.

“No. I can’t…I can’t be around Hamel again, Lys.” Aelin set her uneaten pizza aside. “After everything…I thought I finally had a place, you know? That this was a good fit for me. Even if Rowan’s an ass and doesn’t like me. I liked the work.”

“Maybe if you talked—”

“No.” Aelin shook her head, cutting Lysandra off before she could even begin. “Rowan won’t talk it out. He’d just sell the place faster if it meant getting rid of me.”

Lysandra sighed. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

Lysandra didn’t answer, instead waving as Elide walked through the door, leaving a blistering trail of snow outside behind her.

“I hope it’s alright to stop by,” Elide said with a smile. She grabbed a piece of pizza and settled between Aelin and Lysandra. “Lorcan’s still finishing up at the stables.”

“Good,” Lysandra said, moving over so Elide had plenty of space. “We need to talk sense into Aelin.”

“I’m not a miracle worker, you know,” Elide replied. She grinned all the same and nudged Aelin’s leg with her foot. “What kind of sense are we talking?”

Aelin groaned, shaking her head. One of the counselors took a few of the kids to the other cabin to prepare for bed. It was nearing that time where they would all turn in. The growing storm outside made the night feel sleepy and dark. Not that Aelin minded. Sometimes a lazy night was just what she needed, especially when she could curl up with a book.

“Lysandra thinks I’m being too hard on Rowan for deciding to sell the ranch,” Aelin told Elide, careful about how loud she spoke. She didn’t want to risk upsetting the remaining kids or the other counselors.

Elide’s eyes widened at the news.

“You can’t tell—” Aelin said quickly. She shouldn’t have even told Lysandra about Rowan’s plans. Even if Lorcan already knew about Rowan’s decision, it was just in bad form for Aelin to be gossiping out it.

“I won’t,” Elide assured her. “I promise.”

What Aelin had done to deserve friends like Lysandra and Elide, she didn’t know. As she tugged on the end of her braid she didn’t know where to begin.

“I know I don’t really have a hand in this ranch or can’t tell him what to do,” Aelin said, “but I’ve put so much work into it that…”

Aelin let her words trail off. Did it really matter what she’d done? He obviously didn’t care enough to listen to her. She couldn’t care. She shouldn’t. Because in the end, she always came out alone.

She was going to tell her friends that she was fine and it didn’t matter when the shouting started from the other cabin.

Back at the main house, Rowan and Aedion were settling everything in for the night. After baking four giant pizzas for the kids (delivery drivers refused to drive all the way out to the ranch and the weather had taken a bit of a chilly turn) they settled in to watch the latest football game.

What he didn’t expect was for Aedion to strike up a conversation.

“You know,” Aedion said as a commercial break started, “I’ve never seen a place like this ranch before, it’s pretty remarkable what you’ve done.”

Rowan really didn’t know if that was true. All he’d done was come in after his grandparents and parents established everything for him. The last few years it felt like he’d barely been treading water. Until the last few months when Aelin had swept in with her binders and her plans and damned conspiratorial smile.

“I haven’t done much,” Rowan replied. Mostly kept everything afloat as best he could. “It’s mostly been Aelin bringing things back to life.”

It really was an apt description of the woman. She was vibrant in the way she approached everything she did. Never did she let anything pass by that was half-hearted or untended. Rather, she made sure it was taken care of properly. It was probably what made the fall season so successful. No…no probably about it, it was what made the season one of the best in several years.

“She does tend to do that, doesn't she?” Aedion laughed. “It’s annoying as hell, because then she thinks she’s always right. Which, I mean, technically she is always right, but she can’t know that. She’d be insufferable if we told her.”

Rowan shook his head in agreement. Though, if he thought about it, Aelin had enough confidence that even if she were wrong about something she would make things work in the end. She had the faith and the sheer force of will to see something accomplished that an obstacle was merely a stepping stone to what she wanted.

“So,” Rowan began, a thought occurring to him as he thought about his own understanding of Aelin. “How do you know Aelin? I never got that story?”

That earned him an amused look from Aedion who sat up straighter.

“She’s an Ashryver, you know,” Aedion said slowly, “as in Rhoe and Evalin Ashryver Galathyinius.”

Rowan froze at the pronouncement and slowly, painful understanding washed over him. “What?”

In the chair across from him, Aedion shook his head, blond hair falling in his face.

“Doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t know,” Aedion chuckled wryly. “She doesn’t use her mom’s name very much, considering...But yeah. Ashryver-Galathynius. We’re cousins, were raised together through just about anything. I was there in all of Aelin’s training when she really got into the horse scene. She was the national champion in racing and show three years in a row until the accident.”

Rowan could only stare blankly at Aedion. He didn’t know how he’d missed the similarities, hell, their eyes were even the same. Why wouldn’t Aelin say anything? Especially when he had given her so much crap about being a city girl. She could have shut him up without any effort.

Though, at Aedion’s mention of an accident, he remembered something vaguely happening in the world of showing and competition. That side of the horse world was something he’d never stayed completely caught up in. Especially not years ago when he’d been so busy with taking the ranch over.

“She was nineteen, it was going to be her fourth year in a row of winning that championship,” Aedion explained, “and she’d put herself through hell for it. She kept herself in the best shape, hardly ate. Was always training. Her trainer—” a sour look flashed over Aedion’s face— “her trainer wouldn’t leave well enough alone and always pushed her further than anyone should go, not at that age. It was never proven, but I’m pretty sure they slipped her drugs and the horse too because they were racing barrels which is Aelin’s best event and next thing you know the horse gets spooked and Aelin goes flying.”

Aedion paused, running a hand over his jaw as he stared into the fireplace. “It’s a miracle she wasn’t paralyzed. Or worse. Arobynn never even got a slap on the wrist for it.”

Rowan’s gut churned in a sickening way. “Arobynn Hamel?”

The dark look in Aedion’s eyes was answer enough.

Rowan remembered all the times in the last several months of how he’d berated Aelin for her lack of knowledge on a ranch, how she shied away from the horses. He’d accused her of so many things that he just hadn’t known about.

“She recovered eventually,” Aedion said, “but I don’t think she was ever the same. She never got on a horse again after that. But she volunteered a lot at various stables back in Terrasen or at those camps for kids with autism, y’know? Kinda like what you do here. And then she got her degree and has talked about applying for a doctorate. Damn. She was always going to become something.”

“I didn’t know, about her past, I mean,” Rowan murmured. His fingers tightened on the drink in his hand, long forgotten in the conversation.

“It’s why she tends to drop her mom’s name,” Aedion said, he shot Rowan a wry smile. “She doesn’t want that to be all people associate with her. Her parents love her, don’t get me wrong, but they always put so much pressure on her. Rhoe and Evalin practically raised me too and I got the same treatment. The Ashryvers aren’t known for weakness.”

If there was anything Rowan had learned in the past week, it was the truth of that sentence. Aelin was so much more than the city girl he’d first thought her to be. Everything she had done in her time on the ranch had been to help the kids and families that came through. She had worked so hard to turn this place into a functioning therapy ranch and she’d done a damn good job at it.

And he’d gone on to sell the ranch.

Not that he really owed the explanation to anyone. Sellene was guilt-tripping him enough as it was. But he’d found the last few months to be more bearable. Somehow. Impossibly. Even with Aelin being as difficult as she was sometimes. But that was what he liked about her. She challenged him. She made plans and got things done. She was fearless.

And he’d gone on to sell the ranch.

The one place she’d said made her feel like she was coming home.

“I need to--” Rowan began, already reaching for his phone so that he could call her.

He didn’t get far though when the front door opened with a loud thud. Rowan was on his feet in an instant, for some reason thinking it would be Aelin. Instead, it was Lysandra and Elide with a very distraught Evangeline. The young girl had tears streaming down her cheeks and snow was still melting in her hair from the storm raging outside.

“What happened?” Rowan demanded, already sensing the trouble afoot.

Evangeline shrunk back into Lysandra, shaking slightly. Rowan doubted it was from the chill. He cursed himself for adding to the girl's distress. If he remembered correctly, Evangeline was in between foster homes as the last place was unsuitable. That scar on her cheek was fresh enough that Rowan could guess what unsuitable meant.

He softened his voice. “Is everyone alright?”

Evangeline squeaked, her hair falling in her face. Behind her, Lysandra made a soothing sound as she gently brushed Evie’s hair back. Her glare cut right into Rowan making it clear what she thought about him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Lysandra said, “you’re not in trouble. Just tell Rowan what happened.”

Evangeline sniffed loudly and nodded. “It was Luca. He and Derek got in a fight when we were playing a game and Luca left and I told him not to but—” Evangeline forced a shuddering breath “—but he left anyway out in the snow. So I went and got Aelin and Lysandra.”

“Aelin went out looking for him,” Lysandra finished quietly. She gave Evangeline’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “But it’s turning into a blizzard out there, I don’t know how far either of them will get. We left one of the other counselors to keep an eye on the rest of the kids.”

All Rowan could register in that moment was Aelin is out in the blizzard. It took his remembering that they were all looking to him for answers for him to snap to attention. He turned to Elide.

“Lorcan?” He asked.

“Finishing up in the stables,” Elide said, “he’s probably still there. And probably let her take a horse.”

Rowan doubted that. Even if Lorcan wasn’t fond of Aelin, he wouldn’t let her go out in this weather.

“Try calling him,” Rowan said, “see what he knows.”

When Elide nodded and stepped away, he looked back at Evangeline who was still shaking against Lysandra.

“It’s alright, Evangeline,” he said, “you did the right thing by letting us know what happened. Are you still cold?”

“N-no,” the girl stuttered softly.

Rowan held out a hand to her anyway. “Come have a seat by the fire, I’ve got hot chocolate in the kitchen too.”

Hesitantly, Evangeline accepted his offer. He got her settled in the chair he’d vacated and found one of the many fleece blankets Aelin had left lying around. After wrapping her up, Aedion had his phone out and played a Disney movie to distract the girl.

The adults huddled together in the kitchen while Rowan readied the promised hot chocolate.

“Lorcan said that Aelin took off on one of the mares,” Elide said quietly. She still held her phone to her ear, the call with Lorcan active. “He wants to know if he should go after her.”

“I’ll come out to the stables now, have him wait for me,” Rowan replied. He pulled a freshly heated mug from the microwave and dumped in a cocoa packet. It wasn’t the best but it’s do in a pinch. Besides, knowing that Aelin spent so much time up here there was bound to be whipped cream in the fridge and marshmallows in a cabinet. “I’ll ride out with him.”

Lysandra took the mug from him. “Then go. I’ll finish this. I don’t know about riding horses.”

Rowan looked at Aedion who shrugged.

“I mean,” the other man said, “I know how to stay on.”

“Good enough,” Rowan said. He turned to Elide next.

“I’ll wait at the barn with blankets and flashing lights,” she said before he could get a word out. “Now let's go, the snow is only going to get worse.”

It was more than enough to kick the rest of them into action.

After finding all the spare coats, socks, and blankets they could, they piled into Rowan’s truck and made the quick trip across the drive to the stables. All Rowan could focus on was the snow.

It no longer fell in thick innocuous fluff, rather it had turned to tiny flecks of ice that could cut skin. The heavy wind didn’t help anything either. The weather had quickly dissolved from mediocre to abysmal in the span of an hour. The snow was no longer sticking to the ground, instead billowing in icy white clouds all around them. Any semblance of being on an actual road was lost.

Rowan tried not to let it bother him. He tried to remind himself that Luca wouldn’t get far in this weather. Aelin was an experienced rider…even if she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly ten years. His gut still churned in trepidation and a mild sense of panic set his heart to racing. It was fine.

They reached the barn to find the side door open and Lorcan’s outline waiting with two horses already geared up and ready.

Piling from the truck, Rowan threw on his coat and grabbed the thick goose down parka for when they found Luca. He wrapped a scarf around his face as best he could to protect from the wind.

Aedion had the same idea. He’d also found a hand to pull down over his hair and ears.

“No,” Lorcan said as soon as he saw Elide’s smaller form emerge from around the truck. “Absolutely not. Go back to the main house.”

Had her arms not been full of blankets and spare coats, Rowan expected Elide would have flipped her boyfriend off.

“Make me.” She gave him a look that offered no room for argument and slipped into the stables.

Lorcan turned to Rowan, fury clearly written in his face.

“She’s going to stay back and keep the lights on for when we make our way back,” Rowan told him. “She’ll be fine.”

In any other situation, Rowan was sure Lorcan would have argued further. Instead, he passed off the reins to Goldryn.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. He then turned to Aedion to offer the other horse. Rowan had no doubt a third was already saddled and bridled just inside the doors.

Rowan made no promises as to what sort of decisions he would be making. He merely got one foot in the stirrups and hauled himself up. They’d wasted enough time and he wanted to get out there and find both Aelin and Luca.

“Rowan!”

He turned to see Elide running towards him. She waved an object in one hand, a flashlight.

“Phones will be useless,” she explained. “And I can’t find any walkie-talkies. Morse code, yeah?”

Smart. He accepted the light and clicked it on and off again. “Thanks.”

“Just find them.” Her dark eyes were pleading but nothing else about her smaller stature betrayed any of her worry. When Rowan nodded in assurance, she turned back to the stables. Rowan tucked the flashlight into the front of his coat before finally turning towards the direction he thought Luca would have gone from the cabins.

As the wind picked up and sent another cloud of snow to wash over them, Rowan tensed for a moment before urging Goldryn on. They had some ground to cover before they made it to the cabins. But it had been at least twenty minutes since Luca had run off. Even with the terrible weather, a determined kid on the run could do a lot of damage.

“C’mon girl,” Rowan called, nudging Goldryn into a canter.

He knew this land better than anyone. And he wouldn’t let anything happen to Luca or Aelin if he could help it.

…

Ice cut into Aelin’s skin as she and Farasha continued through the snow. She hadn’t thought to grab a scarf or face covering, hadn’t thought to find a thicker coat. The best she’d grabbed was a thin lap blanket. All she’d heard was that Luca ran off into the storm after an argument with one of the other kids. She would have thought about strangling Luca if she weren’t so worried about him.

“Luca!” she called out, wincing at the cold wind nearly choking her own voice.

She hadn’t even let her own panic take over at the thought of riding again. She’d saddled up the large horse in record time and told Lorcan to ready two other horses for him and Rowan to come search with her. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Rowan may not come, may not care as much as she did. But even if she was pissed off at him, she couldn’t imagine that he would stand idly by when a kid was caught out here in the weather.

Her fingers were stiff as she gripped the reins, grateful at least for that bit of distraction. It had been ages since she’d been on a horse and ridden. After breaking her back in a nasty fall and dealing with the repercussions from Hamel, she had sworn she would never get on another horse. She had sworn she would never return to this life. But here she was because all she wanted to do was help the kids who needed it.

She shuddered and not just from the cold.

The terrain wasn’t terrible, even with the way the rolling snow covered the ground and how dark the night had gotten. Even in the last seven months Aelin had grown used to the land. She’d spent hours walking, running, and just enjoying the ranch. Between walks with the kids she worked with or helping with moving the small herd of goats from pasture to pasture—Aelin felt like she knew the ranch as well as anyone.

Yet, as the wind continued to howl and the snow beat relentlessly against her side, Aelin had the sickening feeling she was getting lost. She fumbled for her phone and pulled up the flashlight. It hardly made a difference, in fact, the light was swallowed up almost as soon as it left the phone.

Aelin bit her lip to keep from cursing. She didn’t want any more cold air in her mouth finding its way down into her lungs.

How long had she been out here? An hour? Two? How long would Luca last with just his pajamas and simple coat?

Beneath her, Farasha grunted. It would only be a matter of time before the horse had had enough and would insist on turning back.

With numb fingers, Aelin patted the horse’s neck. They would find Luca. They had to.

The only logical direction Luca could go from the cabins was the main house. But if he were too embarrassed or upset, he may just go in the opposite direction. But all there would be was darkness. Empty and heavy. Or…or maybe…

Aelin thought back to the first day Luca had arrived and when she’d showed him the old homestead. It was an old cabin that Rowan’s great-grandfather had first lived in upon buying the land. She’d told Luca the same story Rowan had told her: with hardly any money his great-grandparents made that tiny cabin a home until they could till the land and make a living come spring. They’d survived against all odds and used it as a sign of a new beginning.

Spurring Farasha on, Aelin took off for the cabin. Luca had been enthralled by the story, asking question after question, he even asked to visit the cabin a second and third time.

Okay, okay, okay. It was the only thing Aelin could think that wouldn’t send her into a different sort of plummeting thoughts.

Even as the icy wind and sharp snow continued their assault, she told herself that everything was okay.

Aelin was beginning to lose hope, letting the soul wrenching feel of dread rise up within her. It had been too long. There was no sign of the cabin nor of Luca.

This was her fault. It was all her fault.

A flicker in the distance caught her attention. A shadow mingling with the already thickly cloying shadows and manipulations of the storm.

“Luca!” Aelin yelled. As Farasha continued diligently on, the small old cabin came into view and there, trekking towards it was a small hunkered shape. “Luca!”

The shape stopped and Aelin heard a voice in the wind. Hope rose within her, beating against the dread and panic.

“Hold on!” Sensing her urgency, Farasha pressed on, though Aelin could tell it was with reluctance.

It took several agonizing minutes to move the few yards closer to the cabin but they made it. And there, trying desperately to reach the old cabin was Luca.

Aelin let out a string of curses as she slid off of Farasha. She gripped the lap blanket in one hand, keeping it close as she ran to Luca. The boy couldn’t reach out to her, his arms wrapped tight around him. His coat was too thin for this weather, his old boots unlaced. Aelin swore his skin was blue, not just his lips.

“A-a-aelin?” he stuttered, the sound of her name was too soft from his mouth.

Aelin threw the blanket around him. She pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around his middle as she tried to rub warmth into his limbs.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, unable to curb her own panic. “Luca. Luca. Luca.”

The boy trembled against her. He was trying to talk, to apologize, but Aelin kept him tugged against him so tight his words were muffled.

Ice stung Aelin’s eyes as she pulled away and knelt before him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, speaking over the sound of the wind.

He nodded even as his body still shook. Hell.

Aelin drew Luca back against her side. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve got Farasha and we’re going to get back to the house. Everything’s fine.”

She wasted no time in leading Luca to the horse. She boosted him up into the saddle, helping him scoot as far up as he could. Aelin braced herself as she scrambled up on the horse behind him. The motion wasn’t as smooth as it could have been. Combined with lack of practice, cold, and, admittedly, fear, Aelin didn’t let it bother her.

Once settled, she pulled Luca against her chest and reached for the reins.

“We’re alright,” she told him. What else could she say? “We’re going to go back to the house and get you warmed up.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Luca chattered. “I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

Aelin shushed him gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Luca trembled against her chest but fell quiet as he tucked his face into the blanket, she’d given him. The wind had picked up and snow swirled around them. Aelin squinted, trying to keep ice from pricking her eyes. It only made tears start to well and track down her cheeks. In a matter of seconds, she could feel her skin freeze. Aelin dared not blink for fear of her eyes freezing shut. Instead, she tapped her heels against Farasha’s side.

Even with the added load of Luca, the horse surged forward. Aelin had no idea if they were headed in the right direction. All she could do was hope that the horse had a better sense of where they were than she. But with how dark the night had fallen and the increased snowfall, Aelin couldn’t help the panic welling within her. She had found Luca, sure, but that was only half the problem.

Now they had to trek back through the storm to the stables. Aelin guided Farasha as best she could, but the sheets of snow that swirled around them certainly didn’t help.

To ease her own worry, she wrapped an arm around Luca, keeping him close. He was still conscious, which was good. She tried asking him questions to make sure he stayed that way but after a few rounds of feeling like her throat was freezing and Luca’s continued shudders--she stopped.

Come on, she thought to herself. She was strong enough to do this. Strong enough to get Luca back safely. Even if no one else thought much of her--she could see this through.

And then what? She’d be out of a job. Likely forced to move back to the city and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to stay here either if what Rowan said was true.

If Arobynn Hamel took over the ranch Aelin knew she couldn’t stay. Hamel was cruel to say the least. Vindictive, arrogant, abusive. He had pushed Aelin beyond her limits and was the reason her life had changed forever.

She wanted to hate Rowan for what he had planned. But how could he have known? She never talked about her past as it was. It wasn’t even any of his business if she did leave.

Damn him. Damn him for giving up on this place in the first place. And damn him for making her think that she almost had a home here.

A shiver rolled through Aelin’s body. How could she still feel the cold? Everything was numb at this point. She didn’t even know how she could remain upright in the saddle, let alone hold the reins. But the cold had settled in so deep that it was simply an extension of who she was now.

They passed by a fence post that Aelin didn’t recognize. Or did she? Was it the one along the easter paddock? That meant they were near the stables right?

The top of the post only had a thin layer of snow on top, the barbed wire extending along to the next post already had icicles forming.

As if sensing her unease, Farasha moved a little faster. But, really, there wasn’t much the horse could do. Not in these conditions.

Aelin tilted her face up to the sky, as though that would do anything. All she could see was the mass of snow and ice continuing to fall. The gray sky overhead a mass of terror and pure power. Never had she felt so insignificant until that moment. She was a small speck in comparison to the universe overhead.

She dropped her head again and stared forward, willing herself to see some chance of hope.

There was nothing. Nothing but white. Nothing but gray. Nothing but--

A flash of light.

Aelin straightened in the saddle and stared at where she’d seen the flash. She hadn’t imagined it. She couldn’t have.

There it was again!

A quick flash followed by a longer one. The flashes continued in somewhat the same manner, like morse code.

Aelin’s fingers were too stiff to try for her phone. She would have dropped it before managing to get it unlocked. All she could do was guide Farasha towards the light. Aelin had never learned morse code beyond SOS. But she’d been out on this land plenty of times and she knew there weren’t any strange flashing lights around. And these flashes seemed too deliberate in any case.

It was the only reassurance she could hold on to. That and keeping Luca in one arm.

Another few minutes passed on until Aelin could hear a voice on the wind. She didn’t register it at first, but it was familiar. The shout came again; long and steady.

“Luca! Aelin!” Their names were drawn out into multiple syllables but it was someone shouting for them.

Not just someone. Aelin would have recognized that voice anywhere.

The flashlight beam grew stronger the closer they got and Aelin could soon make out a shape sitting astride a horse.

“Rowan,” she whispered, more to herself than anything. Because who else could it be. “Rowan!”

It was only a minute later that had Goldryn loping toward them with Rowan. He still had the flashlight in one hand, beaming brightly against the night.

“Aelin!” he yelled. He drew in close, close enough to grab her shoulder.

The flashlight helped illuminate him enough that Aelin could see the taut lines of his face, his eyes wide in panic. The scarf around his lower face had fallen away and snow was building up in the creases. But it was him. He was here, staring at her like she was the greatest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“We’re fine,” she said, loud over the storm. “But we need to get Luca warmed up.”

Rowan dropped his gaze to the boy who was still pressed against Aelin’s chest.

“Let's go,” he said, “it’s not that far.”

Aelin could only nod as he turned Goldryn and led the way to the stables. Farasha, blessedly brilliant beast that she was, followed without any prompting.

The tightness in Aelin’s chest loosened with each step made. They had made it. It really was going to be alright.

Quicker than Aelin realized, the stables came into view. Bright light from the floodlights broke through the storm and she could see the doors were cracked open just a bit. Two other horses were by the doors being tended to. It took Aelin several moments to realize it was Lorcan and Aedion waiting there. They soon disappeared into the barn, taking the two horses with them.

When Rowan and Aelin reached the stable doors, both men had returned. Lorcan wasted not time in coming to Aelin’s side. He grabbed Luca from the saddle, hauling the boy into his arms and taking him inside. Aelin could only stare after. She had no idea if she could move, let alone blink.

It wasn’t until Rowan appeared in her line of sight that she did blink, miraculously without frozen eyes. She had no idea when he’d gotten off his horse but here he was right beside her. He reached out, one hand going to her side as he gently tugged her off of Farasha.

She fell into him. It was an accident, really. But her body was still numb and she might have been in shock, but she went tumbling off of the saddle in as inelegant a dismount as could be imagined. Rowan’s arms stayed around her, keeping them both upright.

“I got you,” he murmured into her ear. He kept a firm hold on her as she slowly regained her balance.

Somehow, he still had warmth to share. As he kept her tight in his grasp, Aelin could practically feel her own body leeching it off of him. She was desperate to feel anything other than the raging cold threatening to freeze her entire body.

Lorcan appeared in another minute and helped with Farasha, Aedion took control of Goldryn.

Rowan led Aelin into the stables that were already infinitely warmer than the storm outside. There seated on a few bales of hay was Elide, well at work with getting Luca wrapped in a fresh blanket and tugging a hat over his head.

“You’re half frozen,” Rowan said. He kept walking Aelin away from the opened doors of the stables. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Aelin could only stare at him.

The familiar scowl was in place and his brow was furrowed as he worked to get her out of her wet coat. A thin and useless coat, he pointed out. He replaced it by draping a thicker one over her shoulders, holding it in place when she didn’t take it herself.

All she could do was stare at him. He had come for her. He had gone out into that storm and came to find her. Luca too. But with the way he was staring at her and brushing the messy strands of hair from her face--all Aelin could really process was that he was here for her.

“You’re fussing,” she managed to whisper.

“Of course I’m fussing,” he said, incredulity spreading across his face. “Aelin, you’re freezing.”

Of course she was. She’d spent the better part of an hour (more?) searching through a blizzard on a horse looking for Luca. Her entire body shook with cold and a mild panic of what she’d just accomplished.

Rowan tugged the coat tighter around her as he kept talking. But Aelin couldn’t hear what he was going on about. A shrill ringing started in her ears blocking almost everything else out. And then the shivers wouldn’t stop. Her entire body was shaking and it was all she could do to stay on her own two feet before she pitched forward straight into Rowan, vision going black.

…

When Aelin woke, she found herself surrounded by a thick warmth that engulfed her. It was far welcome from the dreams of freezing snow and wind that she’d had all night. Grateful for the thick blankets tucked all around her, Aelin snuggled in deeper, breathing in a familiar scent of pine.

Her eyes snapped open with sudden awareness.

She wasn’t in her own bed.

Pain lanced through her head as she tried sitting up. The sheer weight of the blankets piled on top of her was enough to keep her down though, for at least a minute longer.

What the hell had happened? Her body ached as though she’d run a marathon and she was certain her toes were frozen solid and—

And there had been the blizzard. And Luca. And she’d gotten on a horse and rose out into a blizzard to find him.

That thought alone spurred her on. She shoved the thick quilts aside, pausing only at the patchwork of the top blanket that was a blend of greens and silvers in a pattern she couldn’t quite make out, but it was handmade. She could tell that much.

Aelin then realized that she was in Rowan’s room. If not for the scent of pine and the obvious splashes of green throughout the decoration, then the picture on the bedside table. It was of a boy no more than ten with a shock of silver hair standing on a dock that overlooked a lake. In one hand he held up a fishing line with a giant fish dangling from the hook. Beside him was an older man, his father, who had a proud grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around the boy. And there was another picture of a woman with tan skin and brilliant green eyes smiling down at a bundled baby in her arms.

She was in Rowan’s room.

The thought shocked her enough that she remained seated on the edge of the bed right up until the door opened. Mind still reeling, Aelin could only watch as Rowan himself slowly stepped into the room.

He stopped immediately upon seeing her awake and sitting up. Dressed in his usual attire of jeans and flannel she almost would have guessed she hadn’t been asleep that long. If it hadn’t been for his disheveled hair or the stubble on his chin and cheeks.

“You should be asleep,” Rowan said. He held a cup of water in one hand and slowly walked it over to her, setting it on the bedside table she’d just been examining.

“I was,” Aelin replied, even with the short words her voice rasped with disuse and exhaustion.

Rowan who now stood just before her, his knees brushing hers, reached out and brushed a few messy strands of hair from her face. His fingers were warm against her skin and the calluses rough as they scraped gently along her cheek. The expression in his eyes held something Aelin wasn’t sure how to read. She’d thought she’d gotten decent enough at interpreting Rowan that it unsettled her just a bit.

Instead of the depthless sea of green she was so accustomed to, he was now guarded and hesitant. Compared to his usual assurance and confidence--Aelin was at a loss of what to say.

“Drink this,” Rowan said, filling the silence. He pushed the glass of water into her hands along with a few pain pills and the granola bar. “And eat. The pills will settle better with something in your stomach.”

Aelin set the items aside. “I’m fine.”

“Aelin.”

The warning in his voice had Aelin’s hackles rising. She set her jaw and glared right back at him.

“I’m fine.”

They stared at each other, neither budging. And they could sit there all day for all Aelin was concerned. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep or of any of the other details of her passing out, but she did know she was still pissed Rowan and she would hold out for as long as--

“Please,” Rowan said, voice uncharacteristically soft, “just eat something.”

The breath stilled in Aelin’s lungs. When had she ever heard him say please? It was such a strange word coming from him that Aelin automatically reached for the granola bar and unwrapped it. She took a few bites before swallowing the pain pills with some of the water.

“Happy?” she asked, placing the water back on the bedside table.

Rowan, as expected, remained silent. When he turned aways from her, Aelin thought he was going to give her some peace and quiet, but he was only putting a little distance between them. Which was probably for the best considering Aelin was having a difficult time breathing normally when he was so close. She would blame it on nearly getting hypothermia. That was it.

“Do you have any idea how stupid it was for you to go out like you did?” he demanded. He’d stepped back closer to the window, pale light filtering through the thin curtains to illuminate him enough that Aelin could better see the outlines of his face and the stiff way he held himself.

“I was trying to find Luca,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Get help,” Rowan said, “it was a blizzard Aelin, what if something had happened?”

“Exactly.” She rose to her feet, blinking back the fuzzy blackness along the edge of her vision. She wasn’t going to let him berate her. “I couldn’t let something happen to Luca. He was my responsibility. It’s a miracle I found him at all.”

Aelin waited expectantly for him to say something else. To continue to tell her how stupid she was, how upset he was. That she’d made mistake after mistake.

But he didn’t.

Rowan stood before her, hands on his hips and lips pressed tight together. Silent.

“I wasn’t going to leave him,” Aelin said, and she was shocked to find emotion beginning to clog her throat. “I couldn’t.”

And then Rowan did the absolute last thing she expected. He hugged her.

One moment he was two feet away looking as mad as she’d ever seen him, the next he was pulling her into a bone crushing hug. His arms wound around her, one hand buried in her hair to keep her close. It took Aelin a few seconds to reorient herself but she carefully returned the hug.

Several different questions and emotions swam through Aelin’s head. Most of which dealt with the variety that Rowan was actually displaying affection of one sort or another. He wasn’t a stone wall of silence in that moment but someone who cared. At least, that was how she chose to interpret this display.

“It’s alright,” she found herself murmuring. “Everything’s fine.”

She realized belatedly that the anger she’d felt rolling off of him was actually fear. That he’d been scared for her. She marveled at it really, that Rowan Whitethorn would be worried about her.

Aelin gently eased back, just enough that she could look at him with a bit more clarity. Her entire body was still brimming with exhaustion, she could feel her own tiredness thudding through her bones with every beat of her heart. It was only a small, dull ache though in comparison with the unyielding depths of Rowan’s dark eyes.

She didn’t go far though. The warmth radiating off of him was welcome, feeling almost as though she were back in bed and wrapped in the many blankets. Being so close to him was strange, different. She’d never allowed herself to get so close to him before that now, being held by him--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe and secure.

“Sorry,” Rowan said, though he didn’t release her entirely as one hand trailed softly along her side.

Not knowing how to navigate any of this--Aelin avoided a direct response.

“How’s Luca?” she asked.

“Fine,” Rowan said, “he woke up twenty minutes ago and is perfectly fine.”

“Good,” she said, genuine relief flooding her. “That’s good.”

“We had him and Evangeline stay in the house, Evie stayed in your room,” Rowan went on to explain. “Because the weather was so bad, Lorcan and Elide stayed the night too. They’re with the rest of the kids down at the cabins.”

“Rowan, I,” Aelin began, knowing that she did at least owe him a little of an apology. In part for her recklessness (though they would both know she wasn’t really sorry) and for the way she acted after learning about Hamel.

“Don’t,” he said, quick to cut her off. His fingers dug into her sides grounding her right where they stood. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said anyways, he gave her an exasperated sort of look that made her smile. “Not about Luca, I stand by going after him, but Hamel. There’s more to that than I’ve told anyone.”

Rowan cleared his throat, eyes flicking away for a brief moment before resettling on her. “Aedion might have told me a little about that. And about…”

He trailed off when Aelin turned away. She didn’t know why she did, why she wanted to ignore her past and lock it back up again where no one, not even she, could find it. But she did. Because she knew how it sounded, how it looked. The spoiled rich girl from the good background with everything at her beck and call falls into a mess of drug use. Even if she hadn’t known about it.

When the backs of her knees hit the bed, Aelin collapsed onto the mattress. She was exhausted anyways and really just wanted to sink back into the blankets and fall asleep. Maybe pretend none of this had ever happened.

“I ended the deal with Hamel,” Rowan said. “Literally just got off the phone with him to tell him I wasn’t selling anymore.”

Aelin felt her jaw fall open as she stared up at him. “You what?”

If there was anything he could have said to shock her, that was it.

“I’m not selling,” Rowan repeated. He looked as serious as he ever did, not a fleck of emotion on his face. It was a strange beauty he held, Aelin thought at that moment. The hard planes of his face, his sharp jawline, and the full curve of his lips—all of it combined together in such a way that nearly stole her breath away.

“Why not?” she whispered. “Not to him or not at all?”

He swallowed, throat bobbing. Aelin thought it curious, why would he care about this so much to end the deal that, as he’d said, would bring in a great deal of money? And why would he care enough to not want to talk about it further?

“No deal at all,” Rowan said, “my attorney’s processing a formal citation for it now.”

“Why?” she asked again. Why did she care so much? Was it her own love for this ranch that has somehow developed over these brief few months? Was it no more than the desire to know that Hamel was getting screwed over?

This time when he came towards her, Aelin didn’t move. She only watched as he slowly drew closer until once again, his knees knocked against hers. He hovered over her, his broad frame blocking out the light from the window. But he wasn’t imposing, wasn’t a cruel thing engulfing her. It was just Rowan.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he said. The admission sent shivers running along her arms, racing down her spine. “Not after, everything.”

“Everything,” Aelin repeated, trying hard to ignore the way her heart was hammering in her chest and how her stomach dipped at the low timbre of his voice. “It was the binder, wasn’t it?”

She couldn’t help the teasing words. The binder that had outlined this week of kids coming to the ranch had included a brief plan of continued action to take on seeing more progress made for various revenue opportunities for the ranch. Really, Aelin hadn’t expected Rowan would read much into it.

Rowan snorted a soft laugh, head tilting up as though he were looking to the heavens for help.

“Yeah, I guess that was it.” His words weren’t convincing. Not even in the slightest. Especially not when Aelin saw that small spark in his eyes, the way he was so close yet still so far. And Aelin, despite everything that had happened, wanted him closer. Rowan, she knew, was too chivalrous and wouldn’t do anything to push her over whatever line they were toeing.

She reached up, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt, the fabric soft against her skin.

“I told you it was—” Aelin never had the chance to finish teasing him further when he swept in to kiss her.

It was a soft brush of his lips against hers, barely anything at all. And still it made her breath catch, caused goosebumps to race over her skin. She arched into him, eagerly seeking out of his touch. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so wild in her own skin.

Rowan cupped her cheek with one hand as he drew her closer. The deepening kiss nearly drowned her. He paused only once, hovering before her in a silent question. Aelin responded by fisting her fingers in his shirt and dragging him to her. His lips turned insistent against hers, drawing a small sound from her throat.

In all her time at the ranch, Aelin had never known Rowan to be so gentle or careful. But the way he treated her as though she were something to be cherished, something to be loved—it had her heart seizing in her throat.

She wanted more, needed more, and given the way Rowan’s hands ran through her hair and down her sides she knew he did too.

Which, of course, was when a soft knock came at the bedroom door.

“Aelin?” It was Lysandra come to check on her.

She and Rowan broke apart, putting just enough distance between them. There was no guilt or regret in Rowan’s eyes, rather a promise just for her.

Aelin straightened, adjusting her mussed shirt. “Come in.” She reached for the half-eaten granola bar and started to finish it off, just so she could have something to do with her hands and maybe detract from what she and Rowan had been up to.

The look on Lysandra’s face said she wasn’t convinced. She raised a brow, fixing her look solely on Rowan before turning to Aelin.

“I told him not to bother you,” she said.

“I was already awake,” Aelin said honestly.

Lysandra hummed, her mouth curving into a smirk. “Sure. Well, there’s a real breakfast downstairs. And Luca wants to thank-you in person for finding him.”

“Thanks, Lys,” Aelin said.

Her friend waited a moment longer before turning to leave. She left the door open behind her.

Aelin waited until Lysandra disappeared down the stairs before she rose to her feet. She was tired and still a bit achy but she knew that if she and Rowan remained up here any longer it would only result in an embarrassing call out. That or Aedion would be sent to collect them. And for her cousin's health and Rowan’s own sanity, Aelin thought it best not to avoid the inevitable.

Automatically, she reached out for Rowan and took her hand in his. She laced their fingers together and gave him a small squeeze.

“I never did thank-you,” she said, stepping closer to him, willing to snatch just one more moment.

Rowan arched a brow. “For what?”

“You came to find me,” she said, “even after everything.”

His face softened and Rowan brought their clasped hands up between them, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“I’ll always come if you need me,” he promised.

Aelin smiled, unable to help it. For the first time in ages, she felt a small bit of joy begin to kindle deep in her chest. Where once it might have scared her, now it was a welcome feeling, one that she would keep close deep within her.

“C’mon, buzzard, before she sends Aedion up to get us.” She tugged him to the door with her so they could join the fray awaiting downstairs for them.

And over the next few days, Aelin wouldn’t know what the future would bring. She didn’t know if anything would happen between her and Rowan or if this was some strange moment shared together. She didn’t even know what would happen with her career.

What she did know was that she wanted to fight for it, whatever may come.

…

Epilogue—Six Months Later

It was the howling of a dog that woke him at six in the morning, not his usual alarm. At first, Rowan was keen to ignore it and instead try to fall back asleep. But the dog howled again, mostly out of need for attention than anything else. He rolled over in bed, one arm reaching out to the warm body beside him.

“Your child is calling,” he grumbled.

Aelin cursed from where she was tangled in the blankets. “You’re the one that bought her.”

Indeed, Rowan had purchased the dog that let out another howl outside. He’d figured if he were going to keep the ranch, they should have a dog. What he hadn’t planned on was the little demon to end up being almost exactly like Aelin. He should have known.

Snorting a laugh, Rowan tugged her closer, ignoring the way Aelin’s blonde hair was splayed out messily, nearly engulfing him. He wrapped a hand around her waist, keeping her close. She was soft against him; curves and angles fitting perfectly with him. No matter how many times they woke like this, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

Aelin rolled over in his arms so they were face to face and she could hook her leg over his hip. Already she had one hand buried in his hair as she settled down again. Rowan cracked an eye open to watch her.

Eyes closed and a look of contentment on her soft features, Aelin still remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The nightgown she wore was a poor excuse for covering. The thin straps had fallen down her shoulders and left her chest almost perfectly exposed. The hemline rode up far along her thighs. And he was well aware she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath.

He had no idea how they’d come to this point—no idea how he’d managed to not screw things up beyond measure. Given the way they’d started—they by all means should still hate each other. But here they were, tangled together in a mess of limbs.

He realized too late that she’d opened her eyes.

“Staring?” she asked.

“Always.”

Aelin grinned in that delightfully bright way she did. It was enough to strike any man dumb. Taking advantage of his distraction, Aelin swooped in for a quick kiss.

“I’ll take care of the dog if you make me pancakes,” she said, already climbing out of bed.

Rowan, however, had another idea. He snatched a hand out, catching her wrist to pull her back down on the bed. Aelin yelped in surprise, nearly falling on top of him. She caught herself though, one hand braced on the mattress next to him. Golden hair fell around them as a curtain, a tangled, messy curtain.

Leaning up, Rowan caught her mouth in another kiss. This one far more than a simple peck. Aelin sighed against him as one hand trailed along his bare chest, her fingers working in soft caresses at his side.

As he deepened the kiss, Rowan sat up and wrapped an arm around Aelin. He pulled her fully into his lap, fully intending to have a proper morning together when the alarm clock finally went of and that damned dog started another round of howls from outside. Groaning, Rowan tried keeping her close for just a moment longer.

“Sorry cowboy,” Aelin said breathlessly as she pulled back. “Our child is calling. And you’re going to be late.”

She brushed her fingers through with a fond smile before getting out of bed. This time Rowan let her go, though he wasn’t happy about it.

Aelin threw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt before she ran downstairs, calling for Fleetfoot the entire way.

In the six months since the blizzard that brought them together, many things had changed. Normally Rowan would have shied away from it all. Change never meant anything good. It meant things would be different, that there was a new reality set forth before him. And, always one to stay the course, he’d never pursued much beyond what he already knew.

But he supposed the change Aelin wrought within him was just what he needed. And not just in keeping the family ranch. But she made him want to be different, to be better.

After he changed, Rowan headed downstairs. Aelin was outside with Fleetfoot, the golden lab that was supposed to be a herd dog but much preferred human company than goats. He watched them through the kitchen window as Aelin threw a ball for Fleetfoot to chase.

The golden sun already illuminated the sky setting everything alight. Spring came swiftly and full of new opportunities. And for once, Rowan didn’t dread it.

Even though he was running behind, Lorcan would kick his ass for it, Rowan whipped up a batch of pancakes and already had a few on the griddle by the time Aelin and Fleetfoot scampered back inside.

Fleetfoot pranced around happily and dashed into the kitchen to make sure Rowan knew she was there.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan said as the dog rubbed against one of his legs. “Go ask your momma for treats.”

Aelin instead fixed Fleetfoot’s food dish with the allotted portion of kibble. Though, Rowan knew the dog would get at least one treat before the hour was out.

While Fleetfoot attacked her breakfast, Aelin came and wrapped her arms around Rowan’s middle. She pressed her forehead into his back and sighed as she rested against him.

“You didn’t have to make pancakes,” she told him quietly.

Rowan flipped the few that were on the griddle before turning to accept a full hug. He brushed the escaping bits of hair that flew from her bun out of the way and shrugged.

“I wanted to.”

“Hmm,” Aelin hummed and pressed up onto her toes to kiss him. Chaste and sweet, the kiss still held a lingering promise of what exactly she wanted to do to him. “Well, thank-you. But you should go. Lorcan’s going to be pissy enough as it is.”

“Yes dear,” Rowan said.

He let Aelin take control over the pancakes and grabbed a protein bar from the fridge before heading out for the day. He paused when he reached the door looking back at Aelin as she pulled the batch of pancakes from the heat.

“I love you,” he said.

She looked up, blue eyes dazzling with her smile. “Love you, buzzard.”

The door closed softly behind him as he hurried down the porch to his waiting truck. Beside it was the SUV Lysandra and Aedion had left behind, taking Aelin Audi with them once the snow let up. The chrome silver was spattered with mud and dust looking as though it perfectly belonged where it was. The sight brought a small smile to him.

His truck rumbled down the road to the stables where they would already be preparing for the first spring camp of the season. They were expecting fifteen kids in total with another week planned for the wait-listers that hadn’t gotten in the first time.

The day after the blizzard, Rowan officially terminated any agreement with Hamel that had been talked about, just as he’d promised Aelin he would. They’d faced some backlash, but it was remarkable just what a few loyal names could do to help make things right. Though, Aelin’s own determination in not letting the man have any more control over her said enough.

Now she worked in town at the singular therapy office, providing help to those who wanted. When she wasn’t there, she was at the ranch helping him and continuing to plan and host events for more kids and individuals seeking help and comfort for their traumas and other mental health concerns. Just like she’d always wanted.

Rowan drove past the wide-open field of the ranch his family had called home for over a hundred years. And when he glanced in the rearview mirror at the ranch house fading into view behind him, he hoped that it would remain that way for a few more generations after.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

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