#I was gonna say “if we’re fish it would be easy” but then I remembered all of fish that get bitten in half by another fish while coming up

[caterpillarinacave]

I mean he does save a stranded fisherman from an isolated and uninhabited island in the northern Australia sea he might pull it off

[carmenized-onions]

Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment

logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.

[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.

Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.

portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..

possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.

it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.

“What are you, Amish?”

You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. You’re too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and you’re spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Why’s this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? What’s wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobacco—

“Ah, no, I’m just uhm—” You gesture your hand to your head. “I get migraines, kinda easy, so I can’t, uh— Can’t indulge.”

He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while you’re sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.

“Jack, right?” He nudges your foot with his. “That’s what your pop’s calls you, at least?”

“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jack.” You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. “You’re Mikey? The owner?”

“The Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.” He nods, and he says it like he’s proud but he doesn’t look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. “You bring your own lunch?”

You shrug. “Uh, yeah, grilled cheese with pork—” 

“Why would you—”  The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come out— Oh it’s that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorce— Mikey consults him. “Yo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderin’.”

Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, “No, cousin, whatssup?” He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when it’s offered up.

“Well, our little fixer friend here—” Mikey nudges you, again. “—seems to think me a fuckin’ ass.”

Now when did you say anything like that? “Wha—”

“Stop making lunches, I’ve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free ‘ere, aright? You’re workin’.” Doesn’t matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikey’s always seen you. 

‘workin’’ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.

“We’re gentlemen here, sweetheart.” Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikey’s frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. “Richie. Jerimovich.”

You’re not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. “Jack. It’s— I’m just Jack.”

You’ve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richie’s hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. “Yoink—!”

You whine, “C’mon—” “Let me make you a real fuckin’ sandwich, sweetheart—” “I’d just like my sandwich, alright?” “Oh, it’ll be your sandwich, alright? You think I don’t make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesn’t think I make good sandwiches.”

“Fuckin’ insane, cousin.”

You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. “Not what I said!”

“Why do you keep bringing lunch, then?”

Because it’s easy? Because it’s orderly? Because you’ve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day you’ve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine it’s all gonna hit?

“I just like making my own lunch.”

“Well, stop. You’re breaking my heart.” Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. You’re going to chastise him, but he doesn’t let you. “You like pork more than beef?”

“I think beef is fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

You take too long to respond, meaning the lie won’t be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef that— “I… I like pork more.”

“How dare you—” Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.

“No, no, I asked the lady a question. She’s wrong but I asked. Fair’s fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.” He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.

“Can I have that back—” “No. I’m makin’ you a goddamn real sandwich.”

You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. “I just said, I prefer—”

Mikey’s already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. “Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ pork sandwich, aright?”

Mikey’s guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. “He’s gonna make you fuckin’ pork, aright?”

“Aright!” Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers you’ve ever met.

Richie holds the door open for you, so you don’t get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikey’s voice ring, from inside the kitchen. “And if you’re not doin’ nothin’ for your dad, try to fix the fuckin’ coffee machine, would you?”

This fucking guy. 

You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, you’ve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it.

Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve been gone for years. But you’re probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? They’ve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, that’s a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesn’t give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him. 

What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He can’t remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He can’t remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. That’s bad, right?

“I need hands!” Carmen does not recognize the fact that he’s working until he hears his own voice.

Right. He’s on expo. He’s doing expo. That’s what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. That’s what was happening, right? Doesn’t matter. This is what he’s doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused. 

“Where’s Tony?”

“She’s gone.”

Fak pauses. You don’t leave, that doesn’t match up in his brain. It doesn’t really match up in Carmen’s either, but this is what’s happening now. “What’d’you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s fucking gone, Fak.” Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesn’t matter. Carmen nods to the plate. “Table twenty-five, go.”

“...Where’d she go—” “Fucking go, Fak!”

There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them. 

Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign ‘EVERY SECOND COUNTS’ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. You’re still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say he’s sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like it’s hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.

“Fak.” 

“Carm?”

“Table twenty-five.” Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. “Then fix that.” 

“Why not call To—” “Do you want a fucking job here or not?” “I—I do—” “Then do your fucking job, Fak.”

Carmen doesn’t need you. The Bear doesn’t need you. They can function just fine. Everything’s fine, without you. Everything’s normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so much— When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. That’s table twenty-five, he’s mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesn’t know. The whole kitchen doesn’t know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes. 

Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesn’t he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders. 

The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutes— Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis he’s supposed to be yelling about, right now.

Walk-In Hotfix, $80

Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250

Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70

Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120

Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20

Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500

You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okay— You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen. 

He flips over the note. He reads Sweeps’ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head. 

Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.

Said he’d like to speak to ‘Wine Girl’ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)

You didn’t eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didn’t get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but you’ve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for you— He plays— That’s not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. He’s definitely getting an ulcer, again. Where’s your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didn’t you? 

It’s embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestricted— When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. It’s mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.

Carmen’s eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel it’s been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesn’t matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. That’s what annoyed him, earlier, wasn’t it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didn’t want that?

His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.

“Where—” Fuck, he really is going to throw up. “Where we at on Booth Twelve’s dessert tray, Chef?”

You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesn’t know who it’s for. He doesn’t know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-three— twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? That’s how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. That’s probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. It’s already huge they haven’t walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?

Marcus is here, Syd is still out back— Well, actually, she might’ve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirty— No, forty— Fuck— Earlier. It’s probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.

What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family he’s ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. He’ll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. He’s good by himself.

You’ve been out of Carmen’s life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. That’s exactly how long it feels like.

“Try it try it try it.” You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. He’s the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee you’ve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. You’ve been in The Beef’s life for two months or so.

“Holy shit.” He nods, digesting it— Actually digesting it, which means— “It’s edible.”

“I know!” You all but shout, too excited to hide it. You’ve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what it’s supposed to— Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.

Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one you’ve still got yet to win over. “My ears, kid.”

“Sorry.” You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she can’t see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. He’s sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but it’s been taking forever, what else can you prove?

He decides to fast track you. “Yo, T.” She nods. She respects Marcus. But you’re just some girl that’s been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. “Try it.” He hands her your edible coffee.

She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. “Wow— You’ve made not poison, great job, baby.”

“I’m gonna get better.” You respond instantly. That’s something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. “I’m gonna make you a good coffee.” Determination, too.

“Bold.”

“Thank you—”

“No.” She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. “I like it bold.”

God, she’s so scary. “Heard.” She’s so cool. 

She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You don’t, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes you— Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. “You can come tonight.”

You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, it’s the perfect amount of try— Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.

“Cool.” Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd. 

You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your family— And even that hangs by a thread— And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.

Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. You’re tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.

What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.

Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?

Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Don’t think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.

You never do.

“Aye.” Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you—” “Now figure out how to make it worth drinking.”

You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. “I'm fuckin’ trying!” 

His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. You’re not sure how he always manages to get the knots. “T say you can come to family?” 

You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. “Mhm.” 

“Good.” He looks around. “Your dad here?” 

You nod. “In the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.” As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. You’re going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.

“Oh, good.” And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. “You can help me with family brisket, then.” 

“Nooooo—” “If you want family you gotta be family, Jack.” 

You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.

“Pork?” “Pork.” “Fine.” It's your recipe, so you must oblige.

He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.

Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.

Carmen hates being out front already and he’s only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who he’s now scared he’s become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list. 

“Dessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.” Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why can’t he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? He’s a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.

“Thank you, Chef.” Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesn’t. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like something’s wrong. Getting this guy’s approval is wrong.

This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he can’t. He’s stuck in place. He’s back in front of the fire, and he’s not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coy— Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say. 

“Let’s have it, Chef.” David goads.

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. “Can we step out, for a second, Chef?”

“Lookit this.” Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.

It's of… “What the fuck is that?” You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours. 

“I've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?”

It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.

Their most frequent regular’s favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.

“Carmy?” You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.

“Yessir. He’s still killin’ it.” Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. “Don't gimme those eyes, Jack.”

“You should reply!”

“He doesn't need a fuckin' reply.” 

You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to ‘Are you forreal?’

He just sighs, exasperated. “You don't get brothers, Jack.”

“I literally have brothers, Michael.”

“Yeah but it's—” He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. “It's different. We communicate different.”

“Sure.” You can admit that. “I'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But like—” You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. “It sucks bein’ the baby, I know that much.”

“You're the baby?”

“Yeah, why?” You lift your head from the chair back to him. “I got middle child energy? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

“No, no— Oldest.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.”

You scoff. But it’s not something you haven’t heard before. You’ve got the blood of people who’ve had to take care of people. “Well, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.”

You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. “You see the fuckin—?”

He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. “You’d like Nat. Similar ideologies.”

“I would love to know how your younger sister fuckin’ survived you, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, at that. “She’s a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.” He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. “This is actually kinda fuckin’ good, Jack.”

“Do you have to add actually and kinda?”

He rolls his head back, neck straining. “For what you had, it’s fuckin’ perfection, alright? Happy?”

“Fuckin’ delighted.” You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. “You?”

He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. There’s a split second where you’re scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet—

Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you haven’t, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.

“Fuckin’ delighted, Jackie.”

“Never fuckin’ call me Jackie.”

“Heard.”

Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, there’s probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesn’t care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. That’s it, then. You’re gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chef’s uniform. 

“You should quit.” Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesn’t house a bottle of wine daily.

“I’m aware.” Carmen lights it anyways. You don’t smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time he’d kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe that’s why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesn’t calm him down. 

“Your hair is fucked.” 

“And the food?”

“Busy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. You’ll re-learn.” David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. “Someone got in your head.”

“Someone other than you, yeah.”

“Awe.��� David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like it’s disappointing he’s not the only one living rent free in Carmen’s brain anymore.

Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what he’s always wanted to say. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

“How am I an asshole?” “Can you stay ‘til after close?” “You’re welcome.”

Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. “I— I’m welcome? For—For-for what?”

“You were an okay chef, when you started with me.” David doesn’t fear eye contact. David’s probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. “And you left an excellent chef, so you’re welcome.”

Carmen’s never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this man’s mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesn’t feel good, for some reason. It still doesn’t feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that he’s everything. 

“You…” Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. “You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and— and nightmares— You— You know that? You understand that?”

“Yeah.” David’s entirely unfazed. All he’s heard is a list of benefits, in his head. “I gave you confidence and leadership and ability— It fucking worked.”

Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?

“I’m— I’m, I’m— I’m actually fuckin’ stunned, right now, I—” Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. “My life stopped.”

“That’s the point.”

“That’s the point?”

“You wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focused— And you got excellent. And it worked. You’re here.”

You’re not bullshit. You’re not bullshit and he shouldn’t have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and he’s realizing that now. He’s an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful team— A family— A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyone— Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks he’s a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking same— And that is the actual thing that’s mortifying, tonight.

The real mortifying thing, isn’t that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirations— It isn’t your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. It’s mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.

“I just— I just made the—The only fuckin’ good thing in my life leave because— Because you got in my fucking head.”

David just raises his brows, like Carmen’s fucking stupid. Like there’s not a problem here. Because to him, there isn’t. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m—” The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks there’s a chance it’s gonna be you; begs a higher power that it’s going to be you. It’s not. It’s Richie. 

“Hey asshole—” Richie stops, when he sees David. “Ah. You’re needed, Chef Carmen.”

“Cousin— You’re needed, pronto.” 

“Not your Cousin.”

“Heard and resented.”

Richie’s had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but you’re pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. “Whaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?”

That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experience— Par for bar. It will not be the last.

“Nono— Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.” 

You kiss your teeth, tutting him. “You know how the fuckin’ machine works—”

“Want your coffee?” He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs.  

“Fine. Just get me a list of everyone’s—” He slaps a folded note against your forehead. “Orders.” 

“Fucker.” You take it off your head to read. “Whatta ‘bout Mikey’s?” He’s missing from the list.

Richie shrugs. “Surprise him, he’s out back— In one of his moods.”

You don’t know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. You’re meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you don’t know that. No. How could you? No, so you think it’s normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward. 

“Aye aye, Rich.”

He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive ‘muah’ noise, because that’s what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine. 

You’re pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You don’t really need this list of orders, but it’s good to visually ingrain in your brain. You’re thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Torani’s syrups for your coffee dreams. You’re here enough for it to be worth it, anyways. 

You’re probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.

You haven’t told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That he’s gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, you’re faced with a decision— Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.

You’re leaning towards the latter, at the moment. You’re leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. It’d be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay you— But you used to bartend in college— You could work dailies whenever you’re short. Probably. It probably won’t be that hard. Could it be harder than what you’re doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.

Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cup— A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot. 

But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you can’t handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Mikey? You’re feeling the knots build up again. 

Out back. Richie said he’s out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikey’s— cinnamon and caramel, this time— And head out back. 

And you see a sight that you’ve actually seen plenty of times.

You’ve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. You’ve just never seen it happen to a friend. You’ve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You don’t drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. It’d take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chest— You don’t feel it, you don’t give a fuck. 

“Cousin!” 

You’re a mom friend. That’s what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, pepto— All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pins— All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kid’s band-aids in your wallet. You’re a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.

“Cousin get my fucking bag, now!”

“Right.” Carmen’s honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But it’s probably just cover, to talk. People don’t typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. “Chef.”

“Chef.” David nods back. He looks at Richie. “Where’d your translator go?”

The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like he’s been crying— So it might just be that nothing phases him, right now— But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didn’t he tell him?

Maybe he did, actually. Maybe that’s what happened forty minutes ago? How’d that lead to you leaving? 

“My what?” Richie knows exactly what David’s getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.

But David doesn’t feel embarrassment, it’s just not in him. “Your somme.”

“She had to leave early.”

“Ah,” He nods, “You’ve got her number, by chance?”

A deep and sharp exhale, through Richie’s nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just can’t bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. “I do, I do, actually— I’ve had her number for three years, memorized, y’know why?”

David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. “She your wife or something?”

A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestly— One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. “Oh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like that—” And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. “Decided for some Godforsaken fuckin’ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious time— Let alone her hand.”

“If only, truly, David.” Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. “If fuckin’ only. If I had someone like that— I’d be on hand and fucking knee, for her.”

“Chef.” Carmen’s talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he can’t look anywhere else. 

“Chef.” David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesn’t fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshit—Certainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, that’s the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldn’t hurt to get your number, you’re perfect. Carmen doesn’t think he’d have taken the bait, but the fact that he’s not sure speaks volumes.

David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brother’s best friend stand outside their restaurant. There’s a joke in here somewhere, and it’s probably Carmen.

“I’d fucking kill him.” You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe no one fuckin’ said anything.”

“They might’ve.” He sniffs, arms crossed— Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. “But I couldn’t fuckin’ hear anything but him— And then the fucking car, obviously.”

You can tell he’s trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You don’t honestly care, and you don’t care if that makes you a bad person, either. 

“You’re not nothing, Mikey.”

It’s close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikey’s overdose. You’re finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needle— If you were sleeping beauty you’d be fucking dead. 

“I know.”

“Mikey, you’re not.”

“Don’t fucking Good Will Hunting me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You both laugh, but you’re still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. You’re still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. “They should’ve said something.”

“It’s different when you’re there.” He shrugs, again. “Hard to speak in those rooms.” 

Your lips stay tight, for a moment. There’s a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that you’re completely serious when you say— “I would’ve said something.”

“Sug tried to say somethin—” “She told you to stop, that’s bullshit.” “She was mediating—”

“And why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?” You frown, deeply. You don’t have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. “Just cause you’re the guy, means you can’t stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.”

He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. “It sucks, being the guy.”

“It fucking sucks to be the guy!” You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agree— You jab yourself again. “Fuck, ow— Yes, it sucks.”

“And—” You’ve really opened a faucet for him. “And no one wants you to acknowledge that you’re the guy— Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say ‘I know, I’m doing it on purpose.’”

You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. “No one wants the guy to know they’re the guy!”

“We always know!” “We always fucking know!” “We’re the guy on purpose!”

It’s rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidated— But instead, you’re both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.

“You shouldn’t have to always be good and—and like, understanding of every single fucking person— Especially when they’re a dick!” You yell, exasperated. “You are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!”

He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; it’s one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, “I know.”

“You’re worth standing up for, Mikey.” You emphasize. They should’ve said something. It shouldn’t have been on you. You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. They should’ve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them. 

His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesn’t, he might actually fucking cry, and that’s not what the guy does. “Okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He kicks your foot with his. “Now tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.”

You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. “I uh… Oh! I fuckin’ hate the nickname ‘Jack’, that’s something.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, teasingly intrigued— You’ve thrown him a bone, because you’re the guy, too. He’s able to focus on this in lieu of himself.

You nod and continue. “My dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or six— And it was ‘cause I like— For a kid, I was really into uhm, like— Like everything?”

“Like a nerd?” “Like a nerd.”

You chuckle. “I liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes do— I liked doing chores and like— Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made ‘em happy.” You’re a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. “And so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.”

You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. “Which like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me up— But my kid brain just garbled it and translated ‘you can do it all’ to ‘you have to do it all.’”

“Damn.” He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. “You got ‘guy’d’ at fuckin’ five?”

“Well, when did you get ‘guy’d?!” You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.

He shrugs. “Probably five.” “Exactly!”

You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. “So that’s why you hate it? ‘Cause of the weight?”

“‘Cause of the weight.” You nod. “Like a constant reminder, that I need to be like— constantly at service.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he won’t show. “Drinking helped?”

“Drinking helped.” You close the last stitch on the patch. “Which is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There was uhm—” You can’t help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. “There was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking loved— Or I guess still loves— Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, she’d have me try shit, and it’d be like— So luxe.”

“Right.” Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.

“And I wanted to be like… equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethin’ to say other than wow great job— Because I could tell she always wanted more.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “I haven’t gotten there yet!” “Well stop burying the lead!” “Oh don’t you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.” “Oh, fuck you.”

“Anyways!” You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. “I’d give her pairings based on research— still teens, so we couldn’t drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we weren’t…” You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. “We weren’t talking, anymore.” 

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “Kinda.” “Oh. I was being sarcastic.” “Yeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?” “What happened?”

“It was easy.” You shrug. “I started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for her— I didn’t really see it as a problem, because like, I didn’t do it to function, I never reached for anything like ‘oh I fucking need this.’”

“That’s how it starts.”

“That’s how it fuckin’ starts.” You nod. “Then suddenly we weren’t talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people y’know, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and I— Suddenly I did need that drink.” You should’ve just called her. She would’ve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.

“Who coulda thunk it?” “I know! Ridiculous.”

“How long you been stable, again?” 

“Six months, four days… But who’s counting?” You laugh, and so does he.

You’re both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey. 

“Michael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.”

He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. “Gimme.”

“Be patient!” “I am being the most patient a person can be.” “Yeah that’s fair.”

You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. “This is stupid.” Says Mikey. “Have some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.” Says you, pulling out your disposable camera. 

“Do we need photos?” “What the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?” “I dunno, write me sonnets.” 

“Do you want sonnets?” You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell you’re being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.

He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he won’t drag you down with him. 

You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. “Chip me.”

“That’s not what chip me means.” “It means something?” “I’m pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someone—” “Well Google it, Chip.” “Well, fuck, ok— Chip?”

He shrugs, “Better than Jack, no?”

You throw the necklace over his neck, like you’re knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when he’s deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when he’s supposed to be working on himself, he’s still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.

“Yeah, better than Jack.”

“This sobriety thing is going to be easy.” “ —Okay, so— The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hits—” “It’s gonna be so easy.” “I love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe let’s just be easy on ourselves if it gets hard—” “It’s not gonna get hard.” “That’s what she said—” “Fucking gross!”

He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, it’s a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.

“...Even when it’s not easy, we’re on the same team, okay? Don’t forget that. That we’re on the same team and I love you.”

He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that he’s choking you, but right now, he says, “I’m not gonna forget you love me, Chip.” and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. “I don’t know what I said—”

“You don’t know what you said?” Richie scoffs, he can’t help but laugh. “You don’t know what you fuckin’ said? Ah— It’s— It’s all good, man. You don’t know what you said, so it’s all good—”

“I’m apologizing—” “Nonono— No— It’s all good, I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I know how you feel now, so it’s all fuckin’ good.”

“I love you—” “You love me? You love me? Oh, that would’ve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.”

Has it really only been thirty minutes?

“No— No, you know what?” Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. “If that’s what your fuckin’ love is— I don’t fuckin’ want it. And I don’t want that shit for Chip, either— So leave her the fuck out of your fuckin’ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.”

That one hurts, because it’s true. Carmen can’t say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. “Oh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause I’d say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blow— Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask me—”

“What?”

A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.

“Fuck you mean what?”

“I said what?” Carmen’s spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. “What—What did I say?”

Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he can’t tell if Carm’s lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. He’s pretty sure it’s more. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Cousin, what the fuck did I say to her?”

“You said she failed him.”

Yeah, Carmen’s gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, again— It’s not fucking working. It’s not working and he might as well tear his hair out because there’s no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.

“I am a monster.” Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. “I am bullshit.”

It’s hard to kick someone, when they’re down. It’s hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when they’re just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy what’s left of Carmen. Frankly, Carm’s sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving he’s a fucking problem.

“...I don’t know how to fix it.” But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. “How do I fix it?”

His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy. 

“Stop being you.”

“You don’t love me!”

“Of course we fuckin’ love you!”

“You don’t fucking love me!”

Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in. 

Your phone rings, in the middle of this. “Ah, shit, she’s calling back, hold on—” You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. He’s pivoted to screaming like— Well, a bear, now. 

You move just a few feet away— Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldn’t run back to Richie if his arms start to numb. 

“Yo, T.” You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, it’s painfully early— But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? C’mon.

“We’re doing this because we love you, fuckin’ numb nuts!” 

“Don’t be fuckin’ mean when he’s in a vulnerable state!” You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi. 

“I am not a fucking patient, Chip!” Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. You’re pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You don’t know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. “Open the fucking door!”

You only remember you’re on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. “...Two week milestone going well?”

“Just fucking peachy, T.” You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. “You think it’s healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.”

“Why’s he in the freezer?”

“Guess who was—” You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. “So fucking stupid— And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?”

“I apologized—” “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!”

“Yeah, I think freezer is the right call.” Says Tina; you’re both not sure if that’s true, but at the very least when he’s in there he can’t hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe that’s good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guilt— But you’re his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, you’re his mentor and you’re meant to do this. This is definitely— slam— the right thing—scream—to do.

“Yeah, probably.” You nod, to no one. “Well, basically, if you can let everyone know to just— Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for like— At least three hours. Maybe six. It’s not like you can work anyways, the freezer’s off limits until further notice.”

“You sure you don’t need us to come in?”

“Ah, T, that’s a nice thought but—” You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse, for more people to witness this.”

Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. “—Did you just knock over the fuckin’ stock—” “Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!”

“Let’s just say call me back in three hours.” Is what you settle on. You don’t want to see this, and you don’t want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. “Can you let everyone else know?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll let ‘em know.” First time Tina’s called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but you’re so distracted with everything else that you really don’t even notice it. “Keep yourself safe too, alright?”

“Okay, Mama.” You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. He’ll wear himself out, eventually, but you’re terrified about how long that’s going to take. So is Richie.

He nods to your phone. “How long?”

You don’t need to check to know. “In six hours, he’ll be at two weeks.” You wince as one of Mikey’s hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. “But it’s not like he’s suddenly going to go, oh well it’s been two weeks so I’m normal now, though.”

Richie just nods, pensive. “M’sorry.” 

You shake your head. “I was just bein’ a bitch, we’re all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.”

He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two aren’t here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. “We’re so fucked.” Because here it’s you two. You’re so fucked but it’s you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out that’s how Richie feels.

“I know.” You punch back against the door, alerting Mikey— Not that he wasn’t already alert, and speak to both of them. “Same team, though!”

One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey has— It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised. 

“Same team.”

You look to Richie for permission, he’s just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side. 

“Don’t open it.” You know he’s up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. “Six hours. It’s just six hours.”

But you can hear each other. And maybe that’s all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when he’s not here. 

“Six hours. Same team.”

“I don’t know how.” Carmen’s nose twitches. “I don’t know how to stop being fucking—Garbage— I’ve tried—” “Have you?”

It’s a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. “Have you done the work? Cause it’s— I don’t think you have, Carm.”

“...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix me—?” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. “That— That is the exact fuckin’ problem with you, Cousin.”

Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “What, that I’m self-aware?”

“That you just fuckin’ give up.” “I don’t just give up—” “You do! You give up and you go wah, I’m a Chef with issues and I’m gonna make it everyone else’s fucking problem—” “I am asking for help—” “Are you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.”

Richie exhales, eyes closed. There’s a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.

“That was below the belt, I’ll admit.” Says Rich, once they’re out of earshot. 

Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he can’t refute anything. 

Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank God— Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadn’t, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.

“Don’t yell ‘t me—” That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. “But I don’t think you got Andrea, at all.”

Andrea? Oh. “Chef Terry?” The Ever’s owner, Richie means. 

“Andrea.” Richie nods, taking a puff. “Every second counts— I don’t think you got it.”

Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, he’s the one that didn’t get it. “Yeah? What’d I miss?”

“It’s not meant to make you fuckin—” He gestures to the general form of Carmen. “Tweak. It’s not about speed or— or— like firin’ off on all fuckin’ cylinders.” 

“Then what is it?”

“It counts because it counts.” Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. “It’s— The fucking—” He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “When you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckin’ mont— Mont— What was it?”

“Montmorency.” Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. He’d redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.

“That was worth it, cause it— Cause it took time. Does that— Am I making any fuckin’ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.” Richie rubs a hand over his face, you’d probably be able to explain this better too. “It’s not the thing you’re doing that makes it count, it counts because you’re doing it.”

The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not love— It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort. 

Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?

The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps out— Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. “Are we good?” 

“No.” Says her Exec and Host. She nods, that’s good, cause she’s not good either. 

“Who’s runnin’ house?”

“No one.” Lies Syd, Tina’s running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. “Burn the money, I say.”

“So, what you’re asking me to do— If I’m understanding, correctly, which— I might not be— You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?”

“So I’m sensing—” You curl your hand in the air. “A touch of hostility, which is fair.”

Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isn’t the easiest thing in the world— Especially when this is your first time meeting him— And you’re begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money. 

“Listen, Uncle, please.” Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. It’s nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beef’s dining room. “It’s not like I’m brand new to the restaurant gig— We turn profit, here, we can fuckin’ pay people.”

“Can you pay me?” “We will—” “Or you could just let me cut my losses—” “I wanna do something real, Uncle.”

“Why’s she here, again?” You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow. 

“I’m here as… Proof… That he wants to do something real.” You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.

Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. “Are you having a fuckin’ baby or somethin?”

The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is he’s not even the first one to ask something like this— No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.

“What the fuck!” “Come on, Uncle…” “Do I— Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going on—” “She could be my daughter!” “Alright— So that is a little far, but the sentiment—”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that I’m suddenly going to hack up—”

Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldn’t be physically possible, because it’s on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.

“You will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncle—”

You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. “Verbiage.” 

He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. “You will not be giving your money to— To— You— You’re gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?”

Uncle Jimmy hasn’t looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. “And— And I’m gonna bring Carmy on, and we’re gonna do like—Like high level shit. Like a real fuckin’ Michelin level—”

“How many times have you gotten to a month?”

“First time.”

Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. “How many times have you tried getting to a month?”

“Five.” Michael says, “Six.” you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You weren’t with the Berzattos, upon Mikey’s request— And neither was Carmen, upon Mikey’s ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard. 

Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. He’s forming some sort of plan, in his head, you’re just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. “So you’re his sponsor, then?”

“Yessir.” “Do you feel qualified to do that?” “No-sir.”

Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel qualified.”

“You sober?” “Not really.” “Well that’s kind of a key factor, I’ve heard.”

You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikey’s Uncle— Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know he’s poking because he’s worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and it’s the blind leading the fucking blind. 

“I’m stable. I drink, sometimes— But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. I’m coming up on a year, I still attend A-A— Though not as often as I’m told I should— And I’ve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldn’t be his sponsor.”

Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. “And I told Chip— And our coord— That I won’t do the program without her.”

After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. “N’ this?”

“It’s like a… Proposal?” You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfucker— You’re not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. “It’s like a promise.”

You open the folder, there’s loose sketches you’ve put together of The Bear’s signage, plus Carmen’s original piece— It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist you’ve never met before. There’s also cut outs from the New York Time’s and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents. 

“We make money now.” Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. “Imagine what we could do with him.”

“It would be cool!” You wingman. A little too excited for someone who’s never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. “It’d be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.”

“Or you’d completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.”

Mikey defends, “The people don’t know what they like, yet.” while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmen’s texted, that Mikey has never replied to. “They will like this shit— It’s— It’s art, Uncle. When they see this, they won’t give a shit about sandwiches.”

“They’ll give a shit about the price.”

“Uncle, I’m the guy.” Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now it’s serious. “I can— We can do this.”

As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. “Joint bank account?”

You nod. “It’s so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.” Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.

“Y’know banks are a fuckin’ scam, right?”

You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the table— Thank God these tables are bolted. “I know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.” 

Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply. 

When he speaks again, it’s to say the most insane thing you’ve ever heard. “Ten grand a week.”

Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. “What?”

“Every week.” Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. “Every week that you keep going, that’s ten grand.”

You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikey’s— He does the same, and it’s like a contest for who’s going to break who’s hand first, with how hard you’re holding each other. 

Mikey’s first to ask the question, “Is that… Starting now or starting since I—”

“I’m so glad you asked, fuck no, that’s starting now.” He points to you, now. You flinch. “You’re gonna piss test him every fuckin’ week. I’m not fucking around about this.”

“Right. Heard.” You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.

“And it’s gonna be cash— It’s not going in that fuckin’ joint, aright?” “Heard.”

“...Alright. Deal.” Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikey’s hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. “I gotta piss, now.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Art of the deal.”

You push his face away immediately, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?”

Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and you’ll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you don’t know that yet. Carmen’s gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. You’re excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you. 

“That was fucking nuts.” Sydney decides that’s the best way to surmise it. “Like more than usual.”

“I’m aware.” Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that he’s just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Syd’s fucking mad, and she wants him to know. 

“I’ve— I’ve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she just— That’s not a thing she does. I, I’m so— I literally don’t know what the fuck to do, right now.” For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. “Oh my god, am I finally having a stroke?”

The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bear’s head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richie’s the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. “Who are we gonna call, f’this?”

If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldn’t be a question as to who they’d call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. “Ted?”

“Who’s Ted?” Asks Syd; that’s not Tony, Terry or Tommy.

“Ted Fak.” Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps. 

“They’re multiplying?”

Richie rolls back into his memory. “There’s eight— No, fuck, nine of them— I always forget Avery.”

Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.

“I don’t—I don’t have anyone, except her, y’know?” Syd sniffs. “Like after my dad, it’s— it’s literally just her. She’s my best and only friend.”

Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, “Heard.” 

“I don’t want to choose between her and my career.” Carmen thinks she’s pausing, so he waits, but she’s not talking. That was the end of the sentence.

“Heard.”

“If that’s what getting a star takes, I don’t want it.” That’s huge. That’s a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.

Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. It’s silent. She’s not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. “It’s just— it’s just not worth that.”

“How can I fix it?” Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits. 

“Can you stay after close?”

“—Nobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquette— Why does everyone get on and go ‘wow I love standing in the walkway’— I’m so— There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, I’m so pressed, I’m literally—” You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morning’s commute. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“If you weren’t a little passenger princess, this wouldn’t be a problem, Chippy.” “I have my fucking license! I just don’t have a car!” “Then buy one!” “With who’s money!?” “Mine?”

A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his money— The money he gets from staying sober. The money he’s saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where he’s been putting it. But you know he hasn’t spent it, so that’s all that really matters.

You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. “You’re going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.”

“It’s Jewish lightning—” “Top twenty-thousand reasons we do not say that— Number One—” “It’s gonna work! Just trust me!”

Mikey’s office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says it’s his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since you’re always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. It’d be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.

“I could fix it, y’know.” At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you. 

“I know. But I wanna prove I can, too.” 

That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. “Okay.”

You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. “Child incoming, no expletives please!”

“What the fuck is an expletive?” Mikey asks you, whispering.

You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. “It’s what you just did.”

Eva runs in, the way that kids do— The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jack— Because she hasn’t completely grasped the concept of gender yet— Good, no one should.

“Watch!” You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office. 

“Good job, Evie!” You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.

She nods, “Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.” You look up from her to Mikey. “Can you?”

“Can I cartwheel?” He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. “Can I cartwheel? Eve— She doesn’t think I can cartwheel.”

“Insane, Uncle.”

“Not what I said!” You can’t hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. “I’d love to see it, I really would!”

Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isn’t gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. “You go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, I’m gonna need space.” 

“You’re gonna break your neck, Mike.” Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. “I don’t wanna plan your funeral.”

“Please, you would plan a terrible funeral.” “That’s bull—”

“Expletive!” You cover Eva’s ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot. 

Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, “Y'need a grocery run, tonight?”

You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. “Pay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?”

“Marone!” Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. “The perfect woman—”

“Not Italian!” is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.

Richie rolls his eyes, “Not Italian— Fu—”

Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. “Exp—Expultive!” She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.

“Just go set up front, would ‘ya?” Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane. 

“Let's set the stage for your Uncle’s neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrr—” Richie makes good airplane noises. Richie’s a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikey’s back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately. 

You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, you’re just happy, because, “You’re already at three weeks again, and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh, I fucking noticed.” He doesn’t face you, when he says it, but it’s with a hearty chuckle. He’s noticed it violently, he’s just getting very good at the first month, now— Well acquainted with the burn out. “But now there’s money on the line, I can’t lose.” 

It’s not that money’s on the line. It’s that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldn’t do this for himself— but the guy could do it for his brother. So he’ll just be the guy, that’s what the guy’s do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.

“Well you’re doing good, I’m proud of you.” 

“You believe in me?” He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.

“Of course I believe in you.”

Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you can’t see his face. “...Why are we keeping the candles?”

Ah. You’ve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. They’re slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually they’ll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think we’ll need them? That’s what Mikey’s asking. You scoff. 

“You’re so stupid.” “What the— I confide in you and I get this—”

You interrupt him, arms crossed. “One day, one week, one month, one year, fuckin— When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?”

He’s mum, at that. You add. “We’re getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.” You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesn’t. He changes the subject because if he doesn’t, he’ll tell you everything and you will stop it.

“I want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.” You should’ve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you weren’t smart enough. 

“What the fuck?” You snort. “Okay, out of literally nowhere—” “You’d like him.”

“He sounds very nice.” “He’s not. He’s a—” “Ball buster, yes, you’ve told me.” “He’d like you.” “Why?” “Cause you’re you.”

“Wow, pretty inarguable there.” You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michael’s head. “Guess we’ll be besties.”

“I meant talk like talk—” “Are you trying to hook me up right now?” “He’s a virgin, so it’s definitely not a good deal for you—” “And— And why are we talking about your brother's sex life— Did we already explode and this is hell?” “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re getting into, he gets performance anxiety so—” “Mikey!”

“You’ll talk to him?” Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. “Yes, Bear, I’ll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.”

“Thank you! I ask for so little.”

After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michael’s office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesn’t want to see it himself and he absolutely doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because he’s fucking in them. It’s fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasn’t earned a gift from you, so he doesn’t— Not for now, at least. He hasn’t earned your art right now. 

Underneath your ICE folder is his notepad— The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paper— His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wanted— Wants? To add to The Bear. There’s twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and the—

Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. “Oh good.” He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES. 

“Come the fuck on—” Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another time— Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you. 

Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. That’s fine, soda on Carmen’s shredded throat really wouldn’t be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. “Oh, we’re doing a real list, now?”

Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. “Go.”

Richie leads, “You need to fucking relax.”

“Lay off her,” Sydney waves her hand over her neck. “Leave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.” 

“No— What? No— You should call her like now—” “Absolutely not the right move—” “Solve it hard and fast—” “Why hard—?”

“I’m just gonna wait.” Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesn’t have your tums, anymore. “Next?”

“An exorcism.” Richie doesn’t laugh, when he says it. “Also read fuckin’ Runnin’ on Empty— By Doctor Webb.”

The two cooks just look at him, like Richie’s grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. “I’m fuckin’ well read, shut the fuck up— It’s—” He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmen’s list, “It’s an audiobook, too, on fuckin’ Spotify— Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.”

“Yes, Chef.” Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while he’s at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, “Look into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.” 

Syd’s still reeling over the sudden character growth. “You need to relax with the self-help books.”

“Yeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynn’s ‘It Didn’t Start With You.’” Richie’s got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.

She’s got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos “Should I also read that one—” “Yes.” “Heard, Chef. Next?”

“It cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If you’re tweaking— Keep that shit between you and your therapist—” Syd switches from her notes app to search, “We’re finding you a fuckin’ therapist.”

“Is that covered in our contract?” Didn’t he write it? Carmen doesn’t know.

“Doesn’t matter. Also I don’t know, but doesn’t matter.” Syd hasn’t read it yet. She also doesn’t know.

You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket fees— Well, alright, he’ll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist. 

Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. “Also you smell like shit.” The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.

And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going to fuckin’ Kohl’s after this and we’re getting you a skincare— And haircare— routine. You’re seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckin’ Palmolive dish soap.”

“Well— I’ve been using Tony’s, actually—” “We know.” It’s a completely synchronized interruption. 

“It’s been her signature scent, since highschool.” “Who do you think took her grocery shopping when she didn’t have a car?” “I thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.” “You should go back to it.”

“I know. I will.” He’s got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when he’s taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you won’t mind him copying you. “No more Five in One.”

“You’ve been using fucking five in one!?”

Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didn’t, he did the very opposite— But even if he did, that’s weak shit. Carmen’s not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmen’s gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. He’s gonna be your man, and he’s going to fucking earn that title. He’s going to prove it.

“Okay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?” She’s a shit therapist. You’re imagining both you and her dead in your head. You’ve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that he’s a ghost. 

You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And she’ll ask you ‘Meet any interesting people?’ and you’ll say ‘Yeah. But he killed himself.’ That’s gonna suck. You didn’t prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are dead— And introduce them as such. ‘That’s my friend Richie, he died.’ Make it hurt now, so it doesn’t hurt then. 

You didn’t prepare enough. Didn’t do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, it’s your turn to talk again. You’ve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe it’s all coated in a film of grief, now. 

You’ll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didn’t know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the city— When he knew you’d be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit. 

Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richie— You’ll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three months— It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didn’t realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks he’d have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand. 

Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. You’re still not sure where that money is. Uncle isn’t either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. It’s meant for him anyways. You’ll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asks— “And do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?”

You look at her like she’s a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, “I don’t fucking know him.”

‘My best friend Michael is dead.’ ‘My best friend, Mikey, is dead.’ Doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. 

“Do you wish you did?”

“I really couldn’t say I give a shit, ma’am. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?”

She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brother’s place— February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as you’d planned, as Mikey planned, you’d instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early. 

You got home, and you found that you’d gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelope— Ah. Mikey’s handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. There’s no letter inside. No. There’s a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, there’s a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, his— With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it. 

You call him, immediately. He doesn’t answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring. 

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call with an old friend.

“Yo, Ice-y!” A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, you’re 0ICEChip, so you’ll show up at the top of his contact list, if he’s ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.

You don’t entertain him. “Where are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk, sweetheart.” “Shut the fuck up out for a walk— Where the fuck are you?”

He hums at your snarky tone. “Nephew didn’t take a liking to you?” “I came home early.”

The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. He’s outside. He’s somewhere outside. It’s a cold night. It’s usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning. 

“Oh.”

“Why did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?” You thought of 0ICE but you didn’t think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didn’t do enough. ‘My friend, Bear, is dead.’ You didn’t prepare enough. “Bear, c’mon, what’s going on? I told you, if we need to reset, it’s two steps forward, one step back, it’s okay—”

“It’s not.” “It is! We will get there!” “I’m not. You’re gonna get there, I’m not.” “That’s not true!” “I love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.”

“Mikey—”

“Chip, I’m not going anywhere. You’re— You’re fucking going somewhere. I can’t— I can’t let— We both know where I’m going and it’s nowhere you should begin to be.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to make that call. I decide what I bet on— Mikey, where are you?” You’re walking out of your place, you hadn’t even closed the door before leaving again.

Fucking idiot, you should’ve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. ‘My best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.’— Why didn’t you get a fucking car? You didn’t do enough. You can’t remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? “Are you using?”

“No. No. I’m— This is me, Chip.” “No it’s fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?”

“I love you, I didn’t want this to be— I-I—I’m not killing myself, Chip.”

“You’re not?”

You shouldn’t have believed him. You should’ve just kept walking. You would’ve figured out where he was, eventually. You should’ve called the coast guard, or some shit. Should’ve just figured it out.

“I’m not. I’m— I’m okay, I’m really just going for a walk— I-I just— I had a… I— I don’t want you to be my sponsor anymore. That’s it.” It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re a kid, and I can’t make you responsible for what I do.”

“I’m not a kid.” “To me, you are.” “Then we’ll find you someone else.” “Yeah, okay.”

You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. “You’re cold, Mikey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re just cold.” That’s all that’s wrong. He’s just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. “Go inside, soon. Come home.”

“I will.”

Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t. “Okay.”

“I want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, there’s no point in wiring all the time.”

Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldn’t figure out the wiring by himself— He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nod to no one. “I think your toilets fucked, speaking of.” You laugh, everything’s okay. There’s a long silence, and you think he’s hung up. 

“Good. Okay— You should— You should come fix it, sometime soon… Love you, Chip.”

“Love you, Bear.”

You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brother’s sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because you’re not his sponsor, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his chips. 

You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, “You should come over.” Richie doesn’t ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You don’t know why that’s the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that your— Your— Your best— Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck. 

You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dad’s place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he can’t keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this. 

You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.

Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You don’t want to, but it’ll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time you’ll think of everything, next time you won’t fail.

You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just don’t think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.

On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and it’s only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.

You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just don’t want to leave. You have a tendency to do that. 

You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud. 

“My best friend, Mikey, died.”

When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and again— and he will finally say it aloud. 

“My brother, Mikey, shot himself.”

No matter how you say it, it won’t roll off the tongue.

And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.

You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything you’ve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue. 

But Carmen manages to make “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry— I will never be able to surmise, how sorry—” roll off well enough. Alas, he’s interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here. 

“Guys I— Guys I don’t know how to run bar, and I don’t think I should’ve been trusted, with this.”

Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.

“I’m gonna fix it.” Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, “I will too.”

Because it’s not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.

It’s not negotiable.

I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because I’m. I’m really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one. 

Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originally— There might’ve ended up being more honestly, if I didn’t add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats aren’t cooking, Carmen’s side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is. 

I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmen— And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. They’d done too much work, and I don’t think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh. 

Speaking of Rich and Syd— FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way I’m sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckin— The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but it’s SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit i’m SO SICK!!!!! I’M HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!

Anyways it’s my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought I’d love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didn’t forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughts— It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people don’t read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

Next Part

[handelplayssims]

Reaper's Rewards - Week 6, Part 1

...I can’t stay away. Not when there’s a task list dangling in front of me when I pop into other files. Did skip ahead to the next day with the Goth family though. We’ve been replaying that Friday too many days! Bella worked and had a munch out by herself. Alex continued with talking to plants and I sorted out the researching ambrosia on another file. TO THE NEXT DAY. But first!

Neighborhood Watch!

San Myshuno: The Zeigler household moved out.

Oasis Springs: The Fujita household recently moved in.

SAVE. Might want to remember to do that this each day. Also we got a slumber party scheduled this day.

...really good idea I saved because hey, game crashed as I was trying to get Alexander to cook.

...aaaand all goals reset. At least I can research ambrosia. Game is buggy! Plants also didn’t grow. -grumble- Orchid first day and then NEVER AGAIN.

Right so once again, I am back to delaying until my pomegrante plant can grow and I get an Orchid. Or else cheat. Feeling and feeling more like cheating as time goes on but give it an in-game week, give it an in-game week. Right so, another slumber party at 7PM. Time to delay until then.

Hmmm. Alexander wants to plant things but we really don’t have the space around this place anymore to do that. Well, unless I want to tear down even more of the pre-made bush and greenery but eh. Let’s see. There is a little garden plot nearby I wonder what plants are in bloom. A pear and oh! Some roses! That would actually work real well with the gardening stuff around those bushes. Let’s get some. Next time also, gather up some lilies and plant them. It would be a good idea to have a few of those around the park as well.

Geoffrey needs to advise someone for his aspiration. Let’s go with Sione Hoapili and...he’s a klepto. We’re going to head off to the park. Successfully advised. Now I don’t have much more to do with Geoffrey. I’m having Alexander research the plants in a planter box and Venus play on the pirate ship. Oh! Garden Gnomes are here! Might as well have Alexander say hi to Moria and join up! It is the gardening + fishing club and what has Alexander been super into lately into that!

Also Geoffrey met Hector Laurent. Turns out, Hector is cheerful, family-oriented, and outgoing. A perfect new friend for Geoffrey and for Bella! Might as well say, “go say hello to my wife!” for that social thing. Let’s see, all three have done enough for their park business. Let’s head home!

...oh snap. We have prom and we asked Alexander’s date out to prom. Weeeeeelp. That’s gonna be bad. Shame I can’t send him to prom off-screen. RIP Prom but you happen every week. It’s time for slumber party!

Chatter is easy enough, let’s have some Sims play a party game. It’s time for Don’t Wake the Llama! Jenga is a pretty good party game, all things considered. Set-up be murder though.

Hmm. All we have is cookies. The cookies are from a previous part and- CUPCAKES! Hell yeah cupcake time. Thank you, cupcakes being free from the cupcake maker!

Hmm, after doing some other things, the sleeping bags were moderately set up. But alas, not everyone was alseep on them. Ah well. This is a haunted house after all. Some would take interest in the ghosties and the butlers.

...and some like Besty, just want to beeline for the tv and wake everyone up! GO TO SLEEP TINY CHILD!

Party isn’t done but it’s time for-!

Neighborhood Watch!

Glimmerbrook: The Cynthia and Ammy household recently moved out.

Dang, no revisiting them at some point.

Windenburg: The Guzman household moved out.

Cherry tree is in full bloom! Let’s graft an apple shoot onto it. And thus, we shall get a spliced pomegranate tree! ...don’t need it but I’d rather not hold onto this spliced plant forever.

...Besty, I don’t trust you heading to the living room! Bella! Run interference! Have her play a game with you! Gold party completed! Next we’ll do the playtime captian for Venus. Should be easy enough since I am more than enough skilled for it. ...though we’re going to need to stick to being in a playful moodlet. That’ll be fun.

Alright, at 10:30, all the kids have finally left the party! It’s time for Bella and Geoffrey to have a museum date! Been ignoring Bella’s aspiration for too long so it’s her turn for the social events. Man, I do want Lovestruck. I am sick and tired of base game dates and want something different and fresh! But that’s another time. Anyway, flirtatious actions and paintings have been viewed! Man, I need to go more museums in real life. It’s so much more fun than doing it in the Sims.

Let’s see, date’s done, let’s have Geoffrey advise on friends and- oh man the artist club is here. Unfortunately, all of the artist club is famous painters and artists so I can’t just say hello! Fan hanging around it is then.

...ooh! And Geoffrey got a random phone call asking for advice so he’s one away from finishing this apriation! Let’s talk to someone and give advice! Ohp, several of the artists managed to say hello as well, including local artist Alice Kim-Spencer! Let’s have her say hello to Bella ...OH IT’S 20 INSTEAD OF 10. Makes sense. This is supposed to last for awhile.

Ooooh, we got the materalistic pop up for Geoffrey. Probably for looking at all that expensive art! ...also nah. Geoffrey is a nice guy who doesn’t care about things! Despite the fact he’s surrounded by things and married into wealth twice over. HMMMMMMM. Mmmmm, still will go with nah. Well Bella needs to go piss and she’s closer to the library and gym than the museum. Let’s go have her work out.

….annnd the death flower thing vanished again. BLARGH. I’m just going to assume it’s travelling to too many lots or something. Ah well. I’ll return home, save, then quit. Been too long anyway. Ohp, local gym trainer said hello, might as well nab a donation from Cooper as we take his training. He’s a lactose intolerant active dance machine. Sounds like a fun guy!

Alright, food and then bed for everyone!

...DANG! One lily from my spliced flowering plant! -angry grumbles even more- Well let’s take a break for today and leave with-

Neighborhood Watch!

Nothing of note has happened recently. Check back tomorrow.

[the-firebird69]

Ogdru Jahad, Rasputin & The Portal Scene - Hellboy (2004) 720p

We are having him and his wife cracked the 7th seal which is in the Vatican this is after. And he says he made a monster and it's really just an octopus that he had mutate and it's not this is a deadly demon and he is introducing to Earth they show up blowing up but it doesn't matter regenerates into several of them. And you can see it's minion doing it. Is a nut case and he is a dead man he is mocking everyone and he looks like a buffoon but for real I'm having to do it again to drag his people around. Particular demon as a habit of becoming one of the most productive killers of Satan's in history. Of methodology and it sits and extends tentacles for hundreds of miles sometimes and thousands in an area one of them can do it and kills just about every single person in that area that we have to clear. Now he's doing because we haven't turned the keys and the demons entered and they are going to be president and someone says they detected their doings. But as you know his in and out of believing stuff but no they say he has proof and he's going to introduce different demons that would be the enemies of the other ones when this octopus was possessed and lots of people can tell. Some people can't and it's something that's not too hard to figure out it has big teeth and it could be from bugs and fish and crabs that are huge and mutated. With those other traits like you can survive in space. And frozen. It has a special name and it is something that is found mostly with literature about Mars it is from Mars and it does replicate a certain worm called a bloodworm and they turn into worms and there's a movie about them but those are just worms that were possessed and they die easy. I kind of tell you because you are massively rude we probably shouldn't but it's gonna force us to do the job. We're gonna use your rudeness to defeat you. Name of this particular demon is a Abadon Basically most people did hear about it think it's not a good one and it has to be monitored constantly and all of its young and we have to bring them in and hold them or put them in areas and limit their growth and it's absolutely true. Our theory is that he read this and remembered it and he's trying to find one so he can release it on the planet. And it is not the worm but it can produce worms but they get very big but they're not as long these are extremely effective at breaching bunkers and we do need it trump needs it too and he says it can control him but he doesn't control squat. Now is being invaded on New Zealand by the Pseudo Empire who's saying that they're Africans they are invading but it's not really that harsh it's pretty big it's only a certain area and it's not for show they're trying to do stuff. Soon they'll figure out that she'd just use tech and be done with it but they're not for some reason. We think they're getting information and they need it to defuse bombs and devices. It's going very well today we'll have a big huge announcement in about 45 minutes.

Thor Freya

Olympus

I can see how this sorta is do you realize we control them do you know what the name is you know what they do do you know what they replicate like and that we also monitor it do you understand we take over things using it I don't know any of that and I just bring it here it's my doings and it's my business and that's ridiculous he says you're not bringing here unless we want you to and we know what your business is and it's no big mystery. So what am I doing here nothing you're annoying me and I'm having to do this to devastate your stupid forces and you that's one thing it's a much bigger job you're going to ruin your realm because of what you're doing to me here. You won't get off me so you're gonna do this as a slave regardless of what you say in your snide idiotic remarks that make someone mad. Win no arguments by just making someone mad you can make someone mad all year long and it doesn't mean you've won an argument at all. And that's what you do to me you make me angry all day long and you haven't won one argument you haven't won one fight you haven't gained anything at all as a matter of fact you're like negative 60% or 70% of what you had across the board and you're about to lose your stashes and cashes when an accomplishment what a technique why don't you just plow through yourself I mean wow how annoying breathtakingly annoying and really we know what you're doing it for we explained it and you said earlier you're mad because you explain why I'm because you explain why I'm doing it and what it is you want to overwhelm the earth and us as well it's not a mystery and we did say it to you earlier regardless and we don't have to say it to you but boy you are a little **** aren't you**** you're a little **** you might have reasons to do this like you're a psychotic suicidal loser there's a bigger and better reason you're a slave of Dave's really but he doesn't control these and he might not control Saturn but still he had you doing these things

He wants out of this he says but he's not moving and he wants to go somewhere else and he can't get away but he's not trying i'm so sick of those lines he's sending his people to their deaths and then he can leave head hung low completely oblivious that he's on his path to his own death absolutely ignorant of almost everything that he's done and what a sad state of affairs for your realm they have such a massive lowlife loser here who cares if someone gets hurt if they come here and they know what they're doing at least you have tried but you're all cowards compared to Billy Hicks and he's not because he's a moron and a psychopath.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hi!! Could you write for Bucky prompts 4 and 26??

♡ Hi, Anon!! I love this prompt pairing so much! Thank you for requesting this, and for waiting on me to get around to it! In this one, Bucky and the reader visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn't know is that, later that night, he'll learn that he's going to be a father. There's some pretty fall imagery and lots of sweet moments. I hope you like it! (Note: this isn’t canon regarding Bucky’s true age)

♡ Prompt 4: "Remember we used to come here when we were kids?"

♡ Prompt 26: “I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I? You’re really pregnant?”

All I Ever Wanted

There was a crispness to the evening air as the beginnings of fall settled within Brooklyn. The trees of Prospect Park, once green, were slowly transitioning into rich shades of orange and red. As you and Bucky walked along one of the pathways, leaves crunching beneath your shoes, there was an absence of car engines and horns—it was peaceful. All there was to be heard was chirping birds, the soft chatter of other park-goers, and the occasional whir of a cyclist’s wheels whenever one passed by.

Upon reaching a wooden bridge, the gentle sound of flowing water emerged as well. Beneath it, was a slender waterfall that fed into a small pond with dead leaves floating on the surface. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you admired it from over the railing. Somehow the whole day, including that moment itself, had managed to feel like a dream.

The two of you hadn’t been to Prospect Park in what felt like forever. Life had a way of sweeping you up in winds of responsibility that kept you from enjoying moments of stillness. But those winds had since drifted elsewhere, leaving the two of you with the freedom to simply be. Venturing out into nature and away from the noise had been Bucky’s suggestion earlier that morning. There was no place like the outdoors that was capable of soothing the soul.

“Look, doll,” he said eventually. Your eyes followed where his free hand pointed.

On one of the big rocks peeking out of the water below, a yellow butterfly had perched itself on a rock. “Yeah, I see it. It’s so pretty.” You smiled when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You know what butterflies symbolize?” You met his gaze, willing for him to continue. “Life and new beginnings,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a fraction of a second, you froze. You’d managed to keep yourself collected for the entirety of the day, but hearing those words quickened your heartbeat. Enough so that you became all the more reminded of what he didn’t know—not yet.

That morning, as he spoke to you through the bathroom door about going to Prospect Park, you’d been staring at a positive pregnancy test. You barely had enough breath to agree to the outing. And when he’d asked if you were okay, you told him you were fine, but left out the fact that your lives would be changing forever in the months to come.

The two lines on the stick explained weeks worth of your body trying to communicate to you. It explained that deep sense of knowing that refused to go away. To say that you wanted to merely tell Bucky would’ve been the largest understatement of your lifetime. With all the emotions that stirred within you, you wanted to scream, cry, and jump at the same time.

A voice within you encouraged you to make the moment you told Bucky really special and intimate. Especially considering every turn that his life had taken over the years. So you vowed to wait until the two of you arrived home from your evening at the park.

“Life and new beginnings,” you repeated. You were already aware that such was associated with butterflies, but hearing him say it in that moment carried a certain magnitude. “I love the sound of that.”

Later, after walking further, you found yourselves nestled on one of the benches overlooking the lake. The water sparkled in the warm light of the sun as it prepared to set. A couple men stood peppered along the bank fishing. Children giggled as they chased after each other. Paired with the fall trees and colors all around, it was nothing short of a beautiful scene.

You let your head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and took his real hand in yours to play with his fingers. There was a time, years ago, when the two of you would play along that same lake—throughout the whole park, actually.

You were the first to speak after a while, “Remember we used to come here when we were kids?” You straightened up from his shoulder to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he said, a smile starting on his face. “Especially during the summer. We’d always try to find open fire hydrants to play in after we left. And if we were lucky, our mom’s would let us get ice cream or shaved ice,” he recounted, chuckling. “Those were the days.”

You shook your head. “I know. Now look at us.” About to have a child of our own, you thought.

“Yup. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, casting out a brief look around at the serenic evening. Then he focused back on you, his tone shifting, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” you tried not to answer too fast. “Why?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit and gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s on your mind—ever since this morning,” he noted. “But you have yet to tell me what that something is, pretty girl.”

It took everything not to tell him right then and there, as you sat under a blue and orange sky in the park you knew like the back of your hand.

You offered him half a smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading you for a long time so it’s easy.” You allowed yourself to chuckle when he playfully quirked his brows. “So am I gonna have to work really hard to coax it out of you?”

You shook your head earnestly. “I promise I'll tell you when we get home… I have something to show you.”

On your way out of the park, there was a mama duck waddling under a tree with her ducklings trailing behind her.

It wasn’t until after you and Bucky made it back to your apartment, and had changed into something comfortable, that you told him you were ready. He sat on the edge of the bed as you went to retrieve the small gift box holding the pregnancy test. It was a miracle that you had had enough supplies left over from birthdays and holidays to be able to make it look as presentable as it did.

You extended it to him from a couple feet away. So much anticipation had built within you that you felt light, and as though you were buzzing.

Bucky accepted the box, and looked up at you. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes. “Why are you standing a mile away from me? C’mere.” You inched closer, and laughed when he pulled you to stand more so between his spread legs.

As he began to undo the white ribbon on the box, your lower lip was secured between your teeth. It seemed as though he was moving entirely too slow and fast at the same time.

As soon as he popped the lid off to reveal the pregnancy test sitting on top of little strips of crinkled, beige paper strips, your heartbeat sped up. Bucky’s attention lingered on the test. When he finally looked up, his gaze attested to the influx of thoughts that had been sparked into motion within his mind.

“I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I?” He briefly looked back down to stick again. Two lines. “You’re really pregnant?”

A smile broke across your face. With the news out, it felt as though you were uncaging a group of birds that had been longing for freedom for way too long. Before you could say anything else, Bucky set the box aside and stood to press his lips to yours. You stumbled back at the intentness in which he gripped your waist. It was a kiss that you felt every part of him through; his love, his passion, his warmth. And an intoxicating mix of joy and expectation.

He pulled away just enough to speak. “We’re gonna be parents?” His breath fanned over your lips. Then he leaned back in to kiss you once more, a soft peck. “You’re carrying our child?”

Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt, and the feeling of palms against your skin was pleasant in the best way. One was cooler than the other, but they were both gentle and reverent.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I found out this morning.”

He scratched gently at your stomach, sending a shiver through you. “You managed to keep it to yourself the whole day. That’s what was on your mind?” He kissed you again.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you. No idea.” You brought your hands up to his cheeks, the budding stubble scratchy against your palms. “But I wanted to wait until we came back from Prospect.”

Bucky released a breath after a few beats of silence. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said, voice low. “This is so crazy—a good crazy.”

“I know. I’m happy and terrified at the same time,” you admitted. “I’ve never felt this way in my entire life, but it feels….”

“Good,” he finished.

A laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, he was getting down onto his knees to be level with your stomach. It wasn’t until he lifted your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach that the reality of the moment set in. For the first time since learning about your pregnancy, tears slipped down your cheeks.

Bucky heard you sniffle, and stood back up to take your hands in his. “This is all I ever wanted, you know that, doll?” A few tears had come to the waterline of his eyes. “A beautiful wife, a family. This is all something I thought I’d never have.”

You sniffled again, nodding. “You deserve everything,” you murmured.

“I have my everything right in front of me.”

Without waiting another moment, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tighter than you had in a while. Parents. The two of you were going to be parents.

-

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like. For more fluffy Bucky Barnes fics, click here.

[amjustagirl]

mackerel - a domestic interlude

pairing: miya osamu x f! reader wc: 616 genre: fluff, fluff, fluff warnings: none

a/n: my submission for the ‘love found in ordinary days’ collab!!!

Miya Osamu falls for you hook, line and sinker, when he wakes up to the smell of perfectly grilled mackerel. 

His nose leads him out of bed, into the kitchen where he finds you dressed in a yellow apron, a wide smile on your face. 

“Good morning ‘Samu”, you chirp, setting the plate in front of him. “Food? You must be hungry.”

He can’t remember the last time someone actually cooked for him - other than the holidays when he returns home and allows his okaa-san to cook up a storm for ‘Tsumu and him. The fact that he runs a successful restaurant has made everyone assume he’d be responsible for anything kitchen-related, cooking suppers for ‘Tsumu when he comes over to complain about his latest awful date, heck, he can’t even count on two hands the number of times he’s whipped up romantic dinners to satisfy his dates. 

No one has taken it on themselves to cook for him. At least - no one, until you. 

It was supposed to be a trial run - you moving in with him. It made sense. You’re stuck working from home, his apartment is larger than yours, and it’s a good chance to see if you can stand him and his living habits and his workaholic tendencies and a stray ‘Tsumu dropping in every once in a while. 

“Is everything alright, ‘Samu?”

He shakes his head to clear his churning thoughts. 

“Itadakimasu”, he says, clapping his hands together, bowing slightly over his bowl of rice. The first bite and he already has to stop himself from tearing up. Mackerel is a basic dish - a staple of a traditional Japanese breakfast, but it invokes fond memories of waking up early for school just so he can chat quietly with his okaa-san as she pan fries the fish to serve it alongside a piping bowl of rice, a thick roll of tamagoyaki and steaming miso soup. 

“Doll - we gotta serve this at our wedding.” 

There’s a clatter in the sink, and he winces as you drop his precious kitchen knife. You spin around to stare at him, wide-eyed. 

Wait a minute. Wedding? 

You both spend a few moments gaping at each other like fish. It would be easy for him to laugh it off as a slip of his tongue, but he suddenly realises he doesn’t want to. He wants to wake up to the smell of mackerel, cook your favourite dishes, curl up beside you in bed every night. He wants to listen to you hum your silly, made up songs as you sort the recycling, fold the laundry, celebrate with you in good times, be your first port of call when you’re sad. 

He wants to build a home with you, come home to you everyday. 

“Yeah”, he says, clearing his throat gruffly. “We should serve this at our wedding.”

An impish grin appears on your face. “I wasn’t aware we were getting married. Did I miss the wedding invite?”

“I’ll send ya a google invite, that good enough for ya, brat?” he grumbles playfully, but drops to one knee before you anyway. 

“Marry me”, he breathes, taking your hand in his. “I don’t have a ring yet, but I’ll take ya to pick one out when the shops open, and ya can just move the rest of ya shit in since yer lease is expiring anyway, and we could be happy together - forever, if you’ll have me.”

It’s not the most graceful proposal - but that doesn’t matter because you launch yourself at him, peppering his face with kisses anyway. 

“Tsumu’s gonna complain that we’re serving mackerel at our wedding instead of fatty tuna.”

“Screw Tsumu”, Osamu replies breezily. “I’m gettin’ married to ya, not him.”

a/n: ehehe check out my fellow southeast asian hq writers too yeah!

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[studiobeebo]

IM SO GLAD I COULD CONVINCE U BC ITS FANTASTIC AND I HOPE MORE PPL GET INTO IT! and im literally the biggest slut for aquariums so ty ty and hope u enjoy 🤙🏽 @alibrick1

♡ Aquarium Date ♡

Soshiro Hoshina x Unspecified Gender! Reader

as always if y’all enjoy this please remember that reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

“What’s so funny?” You huffed, giddiness at the sight of the incredible creature in the tank in front of you quickly turning to suspicion upon turning away to look for where your boyfriend could have wandered off to, only to find him standing a few feet behind you, laughing.

“Nothin’.” He chuckled, a smile still on his face as he closed the distance between the two of you, though now his eyes were on the large whale shark that passed by behind you, which was arguably where his attention should have been considering the two of you didn’t go to the aquarium just stare at each other, but he couldn’t help his focus shifting to you more often than not.

Things at the base had been a bit hectic to say the least and being the vice captain, that chaos naturally landed right in his lap and he was expected to take a large part in getting things under control. That combined with the fact that you hadn’t exactly gotten off easy yourself meant that the two of you had been seeing very little of one another, which was generally expected due to your jobs and the fact that he was never really ‘off duty’ due to his position, but you’d barely had time to do anything aside from maybe eat lunch together and even that had become rare.

To be honest, he was arguably more put off by your lack of time together than you were, yet it was you who ended up finally requesting to get a weekend off with him.

While you decided to shoot high by asking your captain if her vice captain could be included in your time off, you were expecting her to draw the line at him considering the amount of work that had to be done, but to your surprise she agreed. It was something about how she knew good performance stemmed from a well rested mind, but all you heard was ‘you get a weekend off with your boyfriend’ and you were practically running down the hall ordering shinkansen tickets to Osaka and texting Soshiro simultaneously. He didn’t believe it at first, but he was more than happy to agree so here you were, at the Kaiyukan aquarium on a well deserved weekend off.

He himself was pretty impartial to aquariums and zoos, he dealt with insane creatures damn near everyday so there was never really anything about the attractions that really drew his attention. You, on the other hand, were someone who had become very good at drawing his attention and he’d caught himself staring a good handful of times throughout your day.

It was partially because of your looks, especially since you had gone all out considering the fact that you rarely got to do so, but mostly because this was the first time he had seen you looking excited and happy in a while. Usually when you saw one another, you were both exhausted and just about out of any energy you could muster, so seeing you looking into the various fish filled tanks with a wide smile playing on your lips and an extra pep in your step was more than enough to give him reason to stare.

He only laughed because he couldn’t believe himself for being so romantically cringey, plus it was funny seeing you practically smash your face against the glass to get a better look at the gentle giant that swam by every once in a while, but he was quick to act like he definitely-totally-100% wasn’t laughing at you.

“ ‘Nothin’ “, you mocked while gently elbowing him in the ribs before leaning into his side as he feigned dramatic pain. “You’re a shit liar, I can always tell when you’re laughing at me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.~” He hummed, this time letting out an actual ‘ow’ upon receiving a kick to his foot as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Just in a good mood ‘s all.”

You hummed, shifting your eyes to look at him before looking back at the display before you. You liked to act like you didn’t care in retaliation to the amount of teasing you received from him, but you really did want him to have a fun weekend to relax a bit. You had been a tad bit worried that he might have wanted to spend his small slice of free time having time for himself, not that you would blame him, so you were relieved to see the lack of tense body language that you had been seeing in him as of late and a genuine smile on his face.

“In a good enough mood to buy me dinner?” You challenged with a raised brow, not wanting to dwell on being mushy for long as he let out a laugh of his own while giving a gentle squeeze to your waist.

“You’re not very good at being persuasive.”

“What do you want me to do, pose?”

“God no, that would be embarrassing and then I’d have to act like I don’t know who you are.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a faux huffy “Fine then.”, though when you went to pull away from him he was quick to tighten his grip, reflexes as fast as ever as he pulled you closer and muttered a resigned “Fine, fine.” against your skin while pressing a playful kiss on your temple.

“Gross, people are gonna think we’re dating or something.” You teased, this time actually wiggling out of his grasp to get a move on as your hunger began to creep up on you at the mention of dinner.

He simply smiled, moving to follow after you as he had done so many times before and would probably end up doing until the day he died.

“Yeah, well-“ He started, lacing his fingers with yours as he caught up. “Guess we’ll just have to tell them I got lucky.”

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

[idamariaw]

A one-shot where you meet a british man, a bit clumsy for his own good sometimes but at least it brought him to you.

This is dedicated to @atlafan, Happy Birthday 🌸

The air was humid, warm and had a strong scent of your favourite jasmin bodywash as you carefully stepped out of the bathtub to continue to get ready for your date tonight. A date that you’ve been looking forward to all week and made it way easier to get through classes and exams, even though you didn’t know much about Harry yet. That was his name, Harry Styles.

You met him just over a month ago in the coffee shop near your apartment where you spend most off your afternoons to study or read, the earthy and warm environment having a calming effect and the staff always sweet. You were reading an article for your course in political science, Stevie Nicks ’Wild Heart’ playing with your notes and books neatly in a pile by your side as eveything sudden flew to the ground with a large thud. It startled you a bit and you took your headphones off to register what caused the mess while you heard a voice beneeth you along your dropped belongings,

”Shit! I-i’m so sorry. My guitar bag got stuck in the corner of your books, I really didn’t mean to.”

A mop of chocolate curls cought your eyes while speaking to you with his deep voice and keeping to apologize even though it didn’t matter, you knew it was an accident. After picking up your things he got up to his feet and you got the oppurtunity to really look at him now. Tall, broad build at the shoulders, skinny jeans with a button up in different patterns, curls to his chin and the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen.

”I’m so fuckin’ clumsy, first time at this coffee shop and this happens.” Now you noticed he had an accent, a british one? Well if your cheeks weren’t burning before they sure were now.

”Oh no it’s okay! I promise. Accidents happen, i’m pretty clumsy myself so you’re not alone. I was getting zoned out on my work anyway so you helped me with that” You said with a smile to reasure you’re not irritated or anything.

”Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but your muffin got on the ground as well. Let me buy you another please?” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit and pouted his heartshaped lips and you just couldn’t say no.

”Oh and I’m Harry by the way, Harry Styles.”

After that you asked him to sit down with you and tried to give him a good impression of the shop although it’s caotic beggining. You learned that he actually was brittish, was majoring in English Literature, wrote music and sang covers with his band.

You met him every now and then the following weeks and after sharing a carrot cake with a latte a few days ago he finally got the courage to ask you what you thought about for weeks,

”Would you be willing to see me outside this coffee shop for dinner on Friday? Please?”

And here you were, freshly out the bath and in your closet looking for an outfit. It was early autumn and Harry said he’d pick you up at 6, so a leo printed long skirt and a sage green knitted sweather along with maroon converse and a bamboo knitted purse with some jewelry would work. A pretty little matching lace bralette and panties underneath just in case things would go that way. Just as you put on a layer of your strawberry flavoured lip gloss you heard the doorbell ring and your heart skipped a beat. You looked over yourself once more before getting your purse and rushed to the door.

There he stood, so good looking it almost made you angry, with his signature black skinny jeans, a black button up, brown boots, a tan coat and hair up in a bun.

”Hello darling, I’m sorry if i’m a tad early. These are for you by the way.” He came in for a hug and kissed your cheek as he handed you a bouquet of red roses and you got a chance to take in his strongly scented perfume that consumed your senses.

”No I was just ready so it’s okay! Wow thank you, i’ve never gotten flowers before. I’m just gonna put these in a vase and I’ll be right with you.” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he leaned against the treeshold.

”Really? Hm I’ll remember that then. I’ll just wait by the car, we’re going for a drive about 20 minutes away if that’s okay. Take your time darling.”

As said, he waited by the car and opened the door for you on the passenger side and then you were on you way.

”Can I have a guess at where we’re going? Dinner somewhere maybe?” You asked even though you didn’t really have any but you’ve always loved surprises and he didn’t even know that.

”Well you can guess darling but i’m not sure you’re gonna figure it out that easy. But yes, we will have dinner in a way.” He answered you with a crooked smirk, showcasting his dimples.

After the 20 minute drive he parked by a black steele double gate leading the way to something you were quite familiar with but haven’t visited in ages.

”The botanical garden?” You asked surprised while Harry opened the door for you to step out.

”Yeah, is that alright with you? I figured as you like the atmosphere at the coffee shop so much this could be nice.” He said a bit shyly.

”Are you kidding me? Ofcourse I love it, I used to be here as a kid with my parents a lot but haven’t been in ages!”

”Thank god, I got nervous there for a second. I’m just gonna get some things in the car but you can start walking up and I’ll meet you at the front.” He said as he started to pick some things out from the back.

You felt giddy and excited as you approach the building and started to walk up to the front like Harry told you. It was when you came to the entrance that you noticed it’s closed and locked. Did Harry know this? Then you felt a hand at the small of your back and the smell of his perfume announced his presens as you turned around and what you saw made you melt to a puddle inside. The guitarbag was secured aganist his back and in his arms he held a picnic basket with a blanket and filled with all kind of goods.

”An evening picnic at the botanical garden with some live music, can’t go wrong with that can we?” He said with a cheeky shrug even though you could sense the nerves in his eyes.

”Seriously? That’s so nice Harry, oh my god. It’s to much to be honest. But how do we get in? And is it even aloud?” You didn’t want to doubt him or his plans but you couldn’t help it as it was actually closed.

”Hm don’t need to doubt me darling. I know the owners son as I helped him with a poem analysis in our class so he owned me a favour.” He explanied as he fished up the key in his coatpocket and opened the door with ease.

The setting and environment was everything you remembered from when you were younger and visited this place, green and thriving plants and vegetation everywhere, even a little pond in the middle with a fountain. The ceiling was made of pure glass so you could clearly see the sky that began to darken and stars starting to shine through, it was breathtaking.

”I was thinking we could set up and get up these stairs close to the roof to we get the best view.” You heard Harry speak up as he lead the way up to a white spiral stair that got you to a spot near the roof to spread out everything and sit comfortably.

He really didn’t spare anything on the food or drink, a nice rosé wine, fruits and berries of all kinds and a fancy charcuterie board.

”Harry I hope you know that you didn’t really need to do so much for our date, a romcom with a burger and fries would have been just as nice. But I really appriciate this, thank you so much.” So said honestly because it was true, just being with him was more than enough.

”Thank you for being honest darling but it’s not to much. You deserve the effort and I want to show you how important this is for me, how important you are for me. Feed me a strawberry please? And do you have any song requests?” He said as he brought up the guitar from its bag.

”Maybe ’Leather and Lace’ by Stevie Nicks if you know that one?” You asked softly as you brought the strawberry to his pouty heartshaped lips and your throat got a bit dry when he hummed against the fruit as he took a bite.

”Mmh, thank you darling. And yes I know that one, a pretty big Stevie fan myself actually.”

He said as he started to play the strings on the guitar, the melody started to fill the garden and softly singing the lyrics made everything complete. It was almost like the man in front of you couldn’t be real with how perfect he looked.

”You’ve been staring at my lips quite a lot this evening.”He said taking out of your trance and making you blush down your neck.

”W-what? Oh i’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” You started to explain yourself but he cut you off quickly,

”Shh, no darling it didn’t make me uncomforable at all. Come here please.” He made grabby hands at you as you sat opposite to him on the blanket so you could come up to his lap.

”I promise you it didn’t. I’ve been looking at you too you know, so beautiful today it makes my heart ache. So happy and thankful, proper cuite you are. Must have the sweetest mouth to. Would you let me have a taste?” He said as his fingers came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lips almost touching yours.

”Yes Harry please.” You almost whimpered against his mouth until you felt his lips softly pressing aganist yours. You shifted in his lap to wrap your fingers in the nape of his neck below the bun to deepen the kiss, Harry leaning back to take a breath.

”Tastes like strawberrys darling, gonna give me a toothache with this sweet mouth of yours.”

You continued to kiss for a while and as he moved down to your neck he felt you shift against him more and he got the courage to lay you down on the blanket and hover over you to get better acess to the rest of you.

”Can I take this off? Or will you be cold?” He asked while playing with the hem of your sweather.

”No I want it off please, I won’t be cold.” You barely finished the sentence before the sweather was off and Harry started to kiss from you neck down to the crease of your breasts.

”Smells like flowers darling, and so soft. Perfect tits you have.” His raspy voice sent a shudder down your core the same time as he carefully touched your breasts and started to kiss them through your lacy bralette.

”What’s this hm? A fuckin nipple piercing? Almost as if you’re tryin to kill me, fuck.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot about that one in your right nipple and he sucked and nipped at it as a man obsessed.

Being teased and played with for so long now made you whimper again and you tried to buck your hips into him for more friction now as you started to ache from your lower region.

Harry noticed this and made the decision to use this against his favor.

”Do you want my mouth somewhere else darling? Seems like your aching pretty bad. Or fingers maybe? Need you to talk to me.”

”Yes please, I want your mouth on me so bad. Please Harry.” If you weren’t so worked up you would feel embarassed for your neediness but you just couldn’t care right now.

”So polite, ofcourse I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, you’ll have. Can I take the skirt off?”

You nodded quickly and he got down so he was facing your core and budged up the skirt around your hips. He kissed your mound over your panties and looked up at you with a cheeky smirk.

”Matching knickers, hm? You’re flattering me darling, being so pretty for me.”

”I-i was just being hopeful…” You let out a breathy laugh at his observation feeling the blush creeping to your cheeks again.

”I was to if i’m being honest but I didn’t want to push you into anything, i’m so thankful that you let me see you like this but I really want to take these of as pretty as they may be and taste you properly. Smells so fuckin’ good I’m going insane.” He took the panties of and let out a low growl while spreading you open with his fingers and see how you were glistening from the wetness under the starlight. Going in for a long stripe with his tounge from your slit to your swollen nub, sucking and nibbling at it just the right way to make you give out a loud shaky moan. He continued playing with your clit with his tounge and lapping up all the sweetness he could get while he felt your legs starting to shake against his head and your moans only got louder.

”Making such pretty noices for me darling, keep going. Need to know that I make you feel good. Want my fingers as well while I play with your clit? Already so swollen for me.”

”Yes fuck i’m gonna cum soon, please Harry I want your fingers please…”It was all you could say before you felt two of his fingers press against your slit and tounge going back to your clit. Your hands found his hair and he let put a growl against you as you tugged on it harder than you intendent, small strais of hair coming out from the bun.

”You can cum darling, I’ve got you. Being so good for me and letting go like this. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, so so fucking good for me. Let me have it, please.” He continued to thrust his fingers as he said his dirty words and that sent you off the edge and gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. Small tears rolled down your cheeks and Harry kissed your inner thighs to help you come down. He licked his fingers clean and covered you again with the skirt, going up to face you and kiss your lips.

”Mmh, hi pretty girl. Felt good?” He asked nuzzling against your nose and stroking your cheek.

”Oh my god, yes. You’re literally perfect Harry, thank you.” You closed your eyes and cuddled into his side as he laid beside you looking up to the stars against the glass ceiling.

”No I’m not darling but thank you. What do you say about cleaning up and head over to mine, watch a movie and I can make you a cuppa? Sounds good?” He asked you before whispering quitly to himself ”And thank god for me being a clumsy fool.”

[futuremrsreid]

Baby Steps

Request: @gubswh0re requested: "hi! could you do 20,25 & 48 from the promt list all in one? would be amazing, thank you!!"

Summary: A case gone wrong and Spencer blames himself. Reader tries to make him feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid x reader

Category: hurt/comfort, angst, a bit of fluff if you never felt happiness before

CW: sad as fuck uhm I lowkey broke my own heart but its also really sweet

Word Count: 1,9k

If I had to describe Spencer Reid handling his emotions in two words, they would be “quiet suffering”. In the two years I have known him he only opened up a handful of times. Not in the sense of him never talking about his past or things that happened to him, but whenever he talked about these things, he tells them like one of his facts. He tells you that his mother has schizophrenia, but he doesn't tell you how he feels about it. It always reminds me of a medical anamnesis.

On rare occasions, he would break. Everything became too much, even for him. I remember the first time I witnessed it very clearly. It was after he visited his mom for a few days and, from what he told me, she was in such a bad condition that she didn’t even recognize him. He was devastated and when he was on his way back he drove straight to my apartment, not knowing how to deal with everything. Spencer didn’t call or text before he arrived there and saying I was surprised when I opened my door doesn't even come close. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Truth be told, I was very overwhelmed so I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled him inside and hugged him as hard as humanly possible. 

In the office everyone always jokes about Dr Reid and his fear of human touch, but he hugged me back so hard that breathing became just a little difficult, and in that moment I realized the reason he doesn’t hug people isn’t because of his fear of bacteria. It’s because of the closeness of it. My heart cracked then.

The next discovery I made was that Spencer is a quiet cryer. I didn’t even notice it until his tears started seeping through my shirt and I could feel the wetness. I don’t know how long we stood there, but when I could feel him calming down a bit, I pulled away just enough to be able to look at him. He was extremely embarrassed and started to pull away completely to cover his face with his hands, but I’m too stubborn for that, so I grabbed his wrists and made him look at me. He started crying again then. 

It took an hour until he started telling me what got him so upset and after that we talked the whole night, about his mother, her sickness and everything related to it. I always hoped that he would open up about it eventually, but when he finally did, I couldn’t handle it very well. I tried not to cry myself, but that is hard when the person you love most breaks down in front of you like that. 

That night I held him close, let him lie on my chest, played with his hair - everything to try and make his pain go away. And after that day I thought things would have changed, that he would stop hiding and open up more to me,  but I was very wrong. When he woke up the next morning he apologized about a hundred times and no words or reassurance made him less ashamed. Afterwards he tried to act like nothing had ever happened.

So in conclusion: I had done a lot of difficult tasks in my life, but getting Spencer Reid to talk about his feelings was by far the most difficult. Nonetheless, today was one of those rare days.

We just came back from a really shitty case that resulted in more victims than it should have due to the police department holding back evidence. It was messy and frustrating and exhausting. Spencer was there when one of the victims was shot and he blamed himself for not preventing it, even though we all told them that there was no chance that he could have done it.

And as if the case itself wasn't bad enough, we were stuck for more time back in the office to do the paperwork. When the clock turned 8 pm Hotch came out of his office to tell us to go home. We all sighed in relief and started packing up our things. All of us except a particular dr. He was still sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer. I watched him for a while, contemplating what to do, and after everyone said their goodbyes, I walked over to him.

“Come on. I’ll take you home”, I said, leaning on his desk trying to catch his eyes with mine. No luck.

“I still have work to do, I’ll take the subway home later.” He continued typing like i wasn’t even there and I got frustrated. The case was already bad enough and I would not stand here watching him torture himself.

“That wasn’t a request, Spencer.” I didn’t intend to sound so harsh but hey, at least it made him look at me. “We are gonna leave. Now.” He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again, he knew better than to argue with me. My eyes said it all: If he would stay, I would stay. And since Spencer Reid cares about everyone but himself, he closed his computer and packed up his things.

The walk to my car was quiet, and so were the first 5 minutes of driving. I kept glancing at him from the driver's seat, but he was looking out of the window, lost in thought. The guy on the radio made a stupid comment and normally he would have immidiatly complained, but it seemed like he didn’t even hear it. His brain is a beautiful place with a million facts and ideas, yet I can imagine how scary it can be as well. When Spencer gets really lost in his thoughts he begins to spiral and I can just guess that that is what happened at that moment. Only then I came to the conclusion that he wanted to stay and work because that would distract him from anything going on inside. 

“Talk to me, Spence.” My tone was pleading, practically begging at this point.

“I’m fine, y/n.” I sighed. I was thinking about just letting it go, but then I thought about him alone in his apartment, stuck in this beautiful scary brain of his. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. I took a deep breath. If you're lost, stick to what you know.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”, he turned to me with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Do you trust me?”, I asked again, looking him in the eyes this time.

“Of course I trust you. Why are you even asking me this?”

“We’re making a detour. I’m gonna show you something.” My words didn’t leave room for questions so we just fell silent again. He continued to watch me with a questioning look, but i tried to ignore him. I was too focused on taking the right turns anyway. It was hard to find my way in the dark, but 5 minutes later we were there. I got out of the car and waited for Spencer to do the same and after he did, he seemed more confused than ever. I walked over to the familiar building and fished for a key at the same moment. 

“What is this place?”

“It’s an art gallery. My mom used to work here.” I found what I was looking for and started to unlock the door.

“And you just have a key to this place?” If the circumstances were different, I would have laughed at his confusion, however, the circumstances weren’t different.

“Yep.” The door opened and I looked for the light switch. “Come on, just follow me.” 

I led us up the 5 flights of stairs and then, after 2 more doors we were finally there. The place that has been the only place I called home for the years before I joined the team.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? We’re not breaking in right now, are we?” At this I did laugh. I stepped further onto the rooftop. 

“Relax Spence, we are not breaking any laws.” He was still hesitant so I took his hand and pulled him to the edge. The railing was high, meaning there was no danger of falling down. I let go of his hand and leaned on it. The building was on a small hill and since it had a few stories, you were able to look over a big part of the city. It was always a beautiful view, but that night was extra special. It was a Friday in the late summer, which didn’t only mean the sky was clear, there were also a lot of traffic lights and buildings that shone bright. 

I just watched and after a few minutes Spencer stood beside me and did the same. Some time passed before I broke the silence.

“How many people are living in the US?” He didn’t hesitate before answering. It was like a reflex for him by now. I liked to ask random questions all the time and to this day, he always had an answer.

“331.002.651 people.” I paused for a few seconds.

“You can’t protect all of them, Spencer.”

“Y/n I-”

“I mean it, Spence. It is humanly impossible to protect everyone. You can protect some of them, maybe even a lot, but you won’t ever be able to do that if you keep beating yourself up over incidents like today.” He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. “I know how you feel and I know it’s not easy. There was no chance for you to save that girl, Spencer. Zero. And if you can’t accept that, you will lose yourself. And then you won’t be able to save anyone anymore.” I know it was harsh, however, sometimes that's the only language he understands.

“You could have said all of that in the car.” He paused. “Why did you take me here?” I didn’t expect him to comment on what I said. He knew I was right, that’s all I needed.

“My mom sometimes took me with her on her shifts and after she was done we would go up here. After she died the owner gave me a key so that I could come here every time I needed it. Or needed her.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not anymore. This place was the only thing making me feel at home for years and I came almost every day, but when I started working at the BAU I stopped going here more and more. And now I don’t really need it anymore, because my apartment finally started feeling like home. Especially when you are there.” I looked at him while saying that last sentence and I saw him smile for the first time in days. His eyes caught mine.

“Thank you, y/n.” Those words could have many different meanings. Thank you for taking me here. Thank you for staying. Thank you for making me feel better. But it didn’t matter what he meant, because I knew.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I think I’d like to stay for a bit longer.”

And that's what we did. We stayed there for hours. That night we talked through every possible way of how Spencer could have acted differently, yet every scenario ended with the death of that girl. After that he finally accepted that it wasn’t his fault. Baby steps.

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

���Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

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[atlafan]

The Tutor - One Shot

a/n: based off this ask! I’m real happy with this one y’all. I’m happy to present tutor!Harry x hockey player!y/n, a nice little college au. Friends to lovers if you wanna categorize it. Enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are always super helpful. (semi-proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes) 

Warnings: fluff and smut, partying, alcohol consumption

Words: 24.5K

Part Two Part Three

“This psychology professor is out to fucking get me!” Y/N groans as she plops down on her couch. “I don’t understand the books we’re reading, and he doesn’t even lecture from the powerpoints so I never have any idea what to write down.”

“Y/N, who the fuck told you to take a psych class anyways?” Amanda says to her.

“I thought it would be an easy gen ed for my science requirement. I didn’t want to take a fucking lab science, that would have been worse!”

“It’s only the beginning of the semester.” Gina says. “You should sign up for a tutor now before it gets so bad that coach benches you.”

“Goddammit!” She yells as she gets up. “I’m headed to the tutoring office, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Why there wasn’t an online form for tutoring she’ll never know. Y/N couldn’t risk getting a bad grade in her psych class. Hockey was her life, and she was a sophomore now so that meant she had more of a chance for playing time. Not to mention she worked her ass off over the summer, and her coach has been noticing her improvements at the few practices they’ve had.

She enters the tutoring office and the woman at the front desk gives her a form to fill out. She has to put down the class, who’s teaching it, and what she’s specifically having trouble with.

“Thanks, Y/N.” The woman smiles brightly. “We’ll email a student that received a B+ or better in this class, and then they’ll email you to coordinate a time to meet. You can meet in here, or the library, or wherever works best for you.”

“Okay, thank you.” She sighs and leaves to go back to her student apartment.

She felt lucky not to be in a dorm this year, but Y/N couldn’t wait to get an off campus apartment with the other hockey girls next year. For now, the on campus apartment will do. Her and her friends change to go to the gym, make dinner together when they get back, and head to the library to do their homework. This was another thing that Y/N liked about being on the hockey team, no one was ever left behind.

//

From: Harry Styles

To: Y/F/N Y/L/N

Subject: Tutoring

Hello Y/N,

My name’s Harry, the tutoring office sent me an email saying you needed help with Mind, Brain, and Evolution. That’s definitely a tricky class! I’m more than happy to help, I managed to get an A- in that class somehow. When works best for you? I’ll do my best to work around your schedule.

Best,

Harry

Harry Styles

Sociology Major/Applied Ethics Minor

Student Senate

Y/N rubs her eyes to check the time the email came through. 6:30AM. Who the fuck wakes up that early to send an email, and what normal student had an email signature? She rolls her eyes when she sees he’s on student senate. Curiosity gets the better of her, so she looks him up on Instagram. His account was private so she heads over to Facebook. She could only see his profile picture. It looked like it was from over the summer. He has a huge smile on his face, sunglasses on, a white t-shirt and short, yellow swim trunks. He was holding up a fish he caught.

“God help me.” She groans.

To: Harry Styles

From: Y/F/N Y/L/N

Subject: Re: Tutoring

Hey Harry,

I’d like to start ASAP. I’m on the hockey team, so I have ice times early in the morning, and evening work outs. I’m usually free from 2-4PM most days. We could meet at the library at 2 today if that works for you. Also, just feel free to text me, I’m not always great with email, tbh. xxx-xxx-xxxx

Thanks!

Y/N

Y/N stretches and gets out of bed. Her, Amanda, and Gina all head down to the ice arena for their early ice time. Once that’s done the three shower up, and head back to campus for their first class. Luckily, they were all business majors, so they were able to sign up for a lot of the same classes.

“Hey, did your tutor reach out to you yet?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, it’s Harry Styles. He emailed me super early this morning, like right when I woke up for practice basically. He’s on student senate, so I’m not surprised.”

“Well, at least he reached out already.” Gina says.

The three sit down, and Y/N checks her phone before throwing it in her bag

Unknown Number, maybe Harry Styles: Hey Y/N! It’s Harry. I got your email, so I wanted to text you like you asked. 2PM works great for me today. Wanna meet in the café first and then we can find a spot?

Y/N: hey, yeah, sounds good, see you then!

The day goes by mostly normal. Y/N gets through her couple of classes, has a large lunch with the team, takes a quick power nap, and heads to the library café to meet Harry. She could certainly use an afternoon pick me up to get through the tutoring before her evening workout.

When she walks into the café she smirks to herself seeing Harry already there. He was wearing a pair of khakis and a blue t-shirt. His hair was a little longer than in his profile picture, Y/N could really make out his soft curls. He was wearing a pair of glasses and looking down at his phone.

“Um, Harry?” She walks over to him and he looks up. He gives her a warm smile. She takes a moment to notice he has a number of tattoos on his left arm. Much more prominent now than in the one photo she was able to view.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Great to meet you. Your first coffee’s on me, what can I get you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that?”

“I insist.”

“If anyone should be buying coffee it’s me. You’re gonna have your work cut out for you with me.” She sighs.

“Nonsense, I think it’s great you reached out for help. Now tell me, what’s your drink?”

Y/N tells Harry she’ll have an iced coffee and he nods. He gets them both an iced coffee, and he gives her a moment to add her cream and sugar.

“You seriously drink that black?”

“Yeah, it’s how I have it at home, I’m just used to it.” He shrugs.

Right, he was an international student from England. She follows him into the main area of the library and they find a table to set up at.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Be my guest.” She says flatly.

As he sits down she’s able to get a whiff of his cologne, and it actually smelled good. Like vanilla, but spicy? She now sort of wished she wasn’t in her workout clothes, and dressed a little nicer.

“So, what’s your major?” He asks as he pulls his laptop out.

“Business…I saw that yours is Sociology?”

“Mhm.” He smiles and opens his computer.

“What is Applied Ethics?”

“Oh! Glad to know you actually read all the way to the bottom.” He chuckles. “It’s just ethics, but with practical ways to apply it. I just picked it up this year so I’m taking a class called Creative Problem Solving in Ethics, and then I can take classes about business ethics or medical ethics or whatever else. I like it a lot.”

“What made you want to add that?”

“A lot of the classes double count in my major so I just figured why not?” He shrugs. “Enough about me. Why business?”

“My mom owns her own business and I’m hoping to take it over when I’m older.”

“What type of business is it?”

“It’s just bar.” She shrugs. “But she’s owned since I was a kid, and we want it to be a family business. I have a couple of younger siblings in high school and they feel the same way. I work there on breaks.”

“You’re allowed to work in a bar?”

“You can be eighteen to serve alcohol. I’ve only got another year and a half to go until I’m twenty-one anyways.”

“You’re a sophomore?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, me too.” He smiles. “And you said you’re on the hockey team?”

“Yup.” She squints at him. “You’re on student senate, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What is with you guys always going to the men’s hockey games? You guys never come to ours. It’s a little annoying, to be honest. I noticed it last year.”

“Well, to be fair, I never go to hockey games, I don’t really care for the sport.” He runs a hand through his hair as her mouth forms into a straight line. “But I can certainly talk to the group to see if they’d be willing to go to your games too. Everyone deserves spectators.”

“Do you like any sports?”

“I don’t mind soccer…but other than that, not really. Oh! I love the Packers, but I only watch their games.”

“You seem to be a fit guy, so you must do something to stay in shape.”

“I run on the treadmill at the gym.” He blushes slightly. “And then I’ll lift a few weights, nothing crazy. Do you, uh, have your books with you? We should probably get started.”

“And here I was thinking I could distract you with small talk.”

Y/N takes her books out and sets up her own laptop. She explains that everything just feels confusing, and that it’s difficult to follow along in class. Harry listens and tries to give her some tips on how to deal with the professor. He takes out his old notes, and she sees the units are the exact same. He explains what he found helpful to remember for the tests.

“Now, I can’t just give you these, but we can use them to help you study. He may have updated the tests since I took them, but we can use my answers to give you an idea of what he’s looking for.”

“How were you able to do so well?”

“I have to take a couple of psychology classes for my major, so I took this as a gen ed. I already knew a ton of stuff about the brain, and the rest wasn’t too difficult, but I know psych isn’t for everyone, so I hope you don’t feel…stupid or anything because you’re not.”

“How do you know?” She smirks. “I could be a real buffoon.”

“To make it through this school’s business program I’m pretty sure you need a brain.” He nudges her. He checks his watch and sees it’s ten of four. “Wow, I can’t believe we used up the two hours.”

“Sorry.” She mumbles as she packs up.

“No! It’s great, actually. I get paid by the hour so it’s no skin off my nose. When do you want to get together again?”

“Maybe we could do this on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Works for me, I’ll put you in my calendar so it’s a standing thing. I can send you the calendar invite too.”

“You’re very…professional, Harry.”

“Thanks.” He smiles and stands up.

She didn’t exactly mean it as a compliment, but she wasn’t going to correct him. They walk out of the library together and then go their separate ways. Harry was nice enough, and he was a decent tutor so far, so it wouldn’t be totally painful to meet up with him. It just annoyed Y/N that a fucking gen ed was stressing her out so much. 

//

A couple of weeks go by, and Harry puts in the hours with Y/N. She had her first big test coming up, and her first home game. Harry was a great study partner, he really helped put her at ease.

“You’re going to do great, I can feel it.”

“Thanks.”

“So…your first home game, are you excited?”

“I’m super excited! I’m starting this season. I just hope we have some people in the stands to cheer.”

Harry hums his response and nods.

“Well, I hope it’s a good game.”

The next day, Y/N takes her test, and she was surprised to see that she actually knew her stuff. For once she left the classroom feeling good. This helped pump her up for her game. When the team leaves the locker room they’re all stunned to see the arena packed. It was never like this for their games. Y/N looks around and sees all of the kids from student senate, including Harry, cheering for them. The arena was full of their school colors and signs. It was quite a sight to see.

Needless to say, the girls won. With all that support and cheering, who wouldn’t be able to play their best? The older girls on the team say there’s going to be a victory party at their apartment tonight. Y/N couldn’t wait. She changes quickly in the locker room, and heads up to campus with Amanda and Gina to get ready.

“I love when Ashley hosts parties, she invites the hottest girls.” Amanda says.

“Oh, is someone hoping to get lucky tonight?” Y/N teases her.

“Don’t I deserve it? I did score a goal.”

“You sure did, with help from me.” Y/N grins.

“Alright, so then maybe you deserve to get some head then.”

Y/N and Gina burst out laughing.

“Right, because guys are just dying to get on their knees for me.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh! You should invite Harry out. He must have had something to do with why so many people were there, right?”

“I have no idea. I only mentioned once that it annoyed me, but now that I think about it some girls from the soccer team said they had a lot people at their home game the other day.”

“Same with the field hockey girls.” Gina says. “I hope some of them come out tonight. There’s this one girl, Leigh, oh my god I wanna wife her up.”

Y/N laughs and shakes her head. She puts on a black, short pencil skirt and pairs it with a black lacey crop top. She straightens her hair and does her makeup. Amanda and Gina make noises and tell her how sexy she looks. They do a couple of shots, and then make their way to Ashley’s. Once all of the hickey girls are there, they cheer and do shots together.

The apartment was getting more and more packed. Y/N notices the senior class president talking with Ashley, and it made her wonder if anyone else from senate was there. She ends up slamming into something hard. When she looks up she sees Harry in front of her. Although, he looks much different. No glasses, an almost see through white t-shirt so the tattoos on his chest and stomach were more visible, and black jeans with some tan boots.

“Hey, Y/N! That was a great game!”

“Thanks! I was surprised to see you there!”

“We…! Hold on!.” He grips her wrist and tugs her into the kitchen where it was slightly less loud. “Jesus, could barely hear myself think.” He chuckles. “Anyways, yeah, you sort of inspired me to start an initiative.” She watches him grab two red cups and go into Ashley’s freezer. “Want some vodka? We brought our own.”

“As long as there’s something to mix it with…”

“Cranberry juice?”

“Works for me.”

She watches him carefully as he makes the drinks, and hands her a cup. They clink them together and they both take a sip.

“Tell me about this initiative.”

“Well, I sort of felt bad when you said no one ever comes to your games, and it made me think of the other women’s teams. The senior class president is a girl so I brought it up to her first, and she told me it would be a great idea to try and get other clubs to come cheer on the teams. It took a lot of planning in a short amount of time. We definitely had the largest turnout at your game, I think it’s because you can actually sit down and get snacks.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Were you surprised?”

“Very, that was really nice of you.”

“And we’re going to keep doing it too. Definitely wasn’t a one time thing. I actually enjoyed watching you. Um, all of you.”

“Right.” She smiles as she takes a sip. “Can I ask…how did you get an invite here?”

“Kelly made it happen. She spoke to your captain…uh, Ashley? She sort of filled her in and asked if we could pack the arena if senate could come to the party.” He looks out to the living room full of people. “Are there usually this many girls? I’m not complaining, I just figured the hockey guys would be here.”

“They usually show up later, a lot of them end up in the basement where the beer pong and dancing is. There’s a lot of girls here because more than half the team are into girls.” She laughs and takes another sip. “Damn, you really know how to mix a drink, this is good.”

“Thanks.” He takes another sip of his own. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Into girls.”

“Not in that way, no. Although, sometimes I wish I was.”

“Why’s that?” They’re closer to the wall near the doorframe, and Harry places one of his hands on the wall so he can stand a little closer to her. People were walking by them so it’s not like they were the only people in the kitchen.

“Because guys always assume I’m a lesbian or something because I play hockey, so they don’t even bother looking at me.”

“That’s too bad.” He looks her up and down. “You’re quite a sight to see, and I don’t just mean because you’re all dressed up tonight.”

Y/N blushes slightly. She was suddenly painfully aware of how close Harry was to her. Was he flirting? Making a move? Did she want him to? Was he just drunk? Was she drunk?

“You…you look nice tonight too.” She tugs on the hem of his shirt. “You have a lot of tattoos.”

“Does it surprise you?”

“A little. I’m even surprised to see you out like this.”

“Just because I take school seriously doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun.” His lips curl up as the song changes. “Do you wanna go downstairs and dance?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

She leads him down the stairs to the stuffy basement where a ton of sweaty people were dancing and playing pong. Whoever had the aux tonight was a genius, playing bop after bop after bop. Traphouse was just starting to play. Y/N was hoping for less of a slow grind to start off with for her and Harry, but oh well. She downs the rest of her drink and tosses the cup somewhere. Harry’s eyebrows raise, but he does the same. If she didn’t care, why should he?

Harry easily was a foot taller than her, especially with him wearing his boots. His hands find her hips and hers hook around his neck. He steps to put his leg between hers so she could grind on his thigh. He clearly knew what he was doing, and she was sort of impressed. Even though he was right there in front of her, it was still hard to think of Harry as someone who partied.  

She presses her head into his chest as they get going, and his head dips down to rest against hers. Getting to smell his cologne this close was making her feel even more intoxicated then she was. The song fades into Shake It by Metro Station and they both start giggling. Y/N steps away and starts singing the lyrics and so does Harry, not that they could hear each other. They dance like idiots and laugh a lot. That songs fades into Acquainted by The Weeknd. Y/N turns around and grabs Harry’s hands to put on her hips. He presses his pelvis to her ass, bending slightly at the knees so they were lined up. She moves her hips in perfect rhythm to the song and he follows right along with her. He feels himself growing tighter in his jeans, but he doesn’t do anything to suppress it, and she doesn’t mind one bit. If anything, it makes her press back harder on him. That song was just too powerful. Her head rolls back to chest as they continue to grind, and he hides his face in her neck. In a moment of bravery he starts kissing on her. One of her hands hooks around him so she can tug at his hair. He bites down and a slight moan leaves her lips. He pops off her and she turns around to face him. She presses her body close to his and keeps her arms around his neck. His hands are low on her back, just above her bum. He looks down at her and she leans up further so their lips can touch.

He tastes like the vodka cranberry that he was drinking earlier as she licks at his bottom lip. He opens up for her and she licks into his mouth. His tongue meets hers and he pulls her as close to him as he can. Things were getting heated quickly, especially as they continued to grind on each other. When the song ends they stop to look at each other. He leans down to her ear.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?”

“Yes.” She nods and he smiles.

He takes her hand in his and they both go upstairs. Y/N finds Gina and Amanda to let them know she was going over to Harry’s. Now, not that Y/N was living a lie, but she was definitely still a virgin. She had made out with plenty of guys, but that’s all. Her friends knew this so they both ask to make sure she was certain she wanted to go back with him. She assured them that she did. As they leave, Harry puts his arm around her shoulders, and she puts hers around his waist.

“I don’t live too far from here.”

“You’re off campus?”

“Mhm.”

“How?”

“I live with some of the other international students. Some of them are older, it just worked out.”

“Must be nice, I can’t wait to get off campus next year.”

“The privacy is definitely nice.” He says as he pulls her closer.

They walk up the steps to his apartment and he keys in. He pulls her up a set of stairs and down a hall that leads to his room, and he unlocks that door as well. Just as she thought, his room was neat and tidy. Even his bed was made. It was a decent sized bed too, a full, way better than her extra-long twin.

“Wanna listen to some music? I have, like, every record you could think of.” He walks over to his record player and she crosses her arms.

“Of course you have a record player?” She rolls her eyes.

“What? The sound quality is better.” He side eyes her. “Come here, come pick out what you want to listen to, I’m gonna grab us some water.”

“Okay.”

He slips out of the door and she hears him do down the stairs. She flips through the various records, rolling her eyes once in a while, and then she settles on Marvin Gaye.

“Subtle.” He smirks as he comes in with two glasses of water.

“What? I didn’t like anything else.” She takes a glass from him and takes a decent sip.

“Sure.” He chuckles and sets his glass down on his desk, she moves to do the same.

One of his hands finds her hip, and the other cups her jaw. He leans in to kiss her and it was like they never parted in the first place. She tugs him back towards his bed and they both fall onto it. She gets herself back so her head is on his pillows. He kicks his boots off, (her flats fell off when she got on the bed), and he hovers over her. His lips find her collar bone and he starts to suck on her skin. She gasps but lets him continue. He plants wet kisses around her upper chest and throat. Her hands were running through his hair. What’s Going On was playing in the background, and Harry’s hands were running up her thighs.

Her legs are parted, and Harry grinds himself against her. She pulls his face to hers so they can kiss. She didn’t know how many roommates he had so she didn’t want anyone to hear her moan out. He sucks on her bottom lip as his bulge continues to press against hers. How was he so good at this? How much action did he get? He was a sophomore like her, but how old was he actually?

“How, how old are you?”

“What?” He laughs.

“How old are you?” She repeats. 

“I’ll be twenty in February, why?”

“Just wondering…um, you said some of your roommates are older so…”

“Y/N, I promise if I were a lot older, I wouldn’t be trying to fuck some nineteen year old.” He smirks. “You are nineteen, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

A wave of relief covers her body as he starts to kiss on her neck again. She couldn’t believe the guy that’s been tutoring her was doing this to her. She could feel how wet she was getting. He groans into her neck as he grinds into her again. She feels his hands go up under her pencil skirt and grab onto her panties.

“Harry, wait!” She gasps. “Don’t!”

He lets go immediately and sits back on his calves so he can look at her. She closes her legs and sits up against the wall.

“Sorry, was I moving too fast?”

“No, it’s just…I thought I was ready for this, but I don’t think I am.”

“Oh…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s okay. We don’t need to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“Are you sure? You’re not mad?” She chews on her bottom lip. He was probably hoping to get laid tonight and she just ruined that for him.

“Mad?! I’d be pissed if we did something you didn’t feel comfortable with. I’m not mad, Y/N. It’s really no problem. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I wanna keep making out.” She mumbles and it makes him smile. “I like the way you kiss.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He sits next to her and pats his thighs. She swings her leg over so she can straddle him. She pecks at his lips as her hands tug at his shirt.

“I wouldn’t mind if your shirt came off either…if you wanted.”

“Sure.” He stretches to get it off and he tosses it aside.

She runs her hands up and down his torso, tracing his tattoos, as his hands clasp around her back. She presses her lips to his neck and he sighs. She sucks on the spot just below his ear and he pulls her closer. He presses his hips up to hers so their grinding against each other again. She kisses along his jaw until her lips are on his again. He sucks on her tongue and it makes her moan against him. She tugs at his hair again and he has all he can do to not lose it in his pants. She was rubbing herself on his bulge in just the right way, she could feel the knot in her stomach growing more and more.

“Oh god.” She grunts and hides her face in his neck.

“Almost there?” His hands move to her hips to help her move on him.

“Y, yeah, I think so.” She was panting. “Shit, H, Harry.”

“Don’t fight it, it’s alright.” He grunts as he presses her down as close as possible on him.

She cries out into his neck and she slows her own movements as she works through it. She twitches on top of him during her aftershocks and then she just clings to him. He rubs her back to soothe her. He wasn’t sure if someone else had ever given her an orgasm before so he didn’t want her to feel freaked out or anything.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

She presses her swollen lips to his and she whimpers. He was incredibly hard and he needed to go relieve himself before he got blue balls.

“Y/N?” He says against her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I just go use the bathroom quickly? And then I’ll come right back to you.”

“Okay.” He gently lifts her off of him and her eyes grow wide when she sees his bulge. She was also slightly embarrassed because even though he was wearing black jeans, she could see where her wetness got onto him. “You can wear this if you want…” He rifles through his drawers for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Be back in a sec.”

He quickly leaves the room and she changes into his clothes. She really needed to pee herself, but she didn’t want to walk around his apartment alone. She patiently waits for him, scrolling on her phone, and he returns. There was a new sheen of sweat on his chest, and his bulge was gone. He goes into his drawer for a new pair of boxers.

“Would you care if I just stay in these? It’s a little hot in here.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Um, would it be weird if I asked you to walk me to the bathroom?”

“Not at all! Come on, love.”

She smiles at the pet name. He used it a couple of times when he was tutoring her, but now it felt especially good. Harry thought she was cute. His big bad hockey player had gotten all soft around him. He walks her down to the bathroom and he changes in the hallway quickly, feeling relief from his clean pair of boxers. He also couldn’t help but smirk to himself thinking of how large his clothes were on her. Y/N uses the toilet and then uses some of the mouthwash on the sink before opening the door.

“All set?” Harry whispers.

“Mhm.”

She tries not to stare at his almost naked body as they walk back to his room. He flips the light off as she crawls into bed, and he grabs his laptop. She watches as he opens up Disney Plus.

“I’ve been watching Hannah Montana, do you feel like watching that?”

“Are you serious?” She laughs.

“Yeah! I’m fucking sick of people making references and me having zero idea what they’re talking about. Her songs are all over tik tok and I never understand.”

“Well, lucky for you I love this show, so I’d be happy to watch.”

“Good.” He smiles and hits play. He sets the laptop up at the end of the bed, and throws an arm around her. He strokes her arm lightly with his fingers that she noticed he painted black tonight.

“So…that wasn’t weird?”

“What?” He asks without looking at her.

“Um…me…doing that on you?”

“You mean when you came from grinding on me? No, it wasn’t weird.” He smirks and looks down at her. “It was pretty hot actually.”

“Did you…take care of yourself?”

“Yeah, is that weird?”

“No.” He kisses the top of her head. “You’re okay that I didn’t offer?”

“You pretty clearly said you weren’t ready to do that, so it’s fine.”

“I’ve never, um, taken my pants off for someone before…my top either.” She blushes. The alcohol in her system was making her a little too honest.

Harry sighs and reaches forward to pause the show. He sits back and looks at her.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. Whether you’ve had sex before or not, you didn’t want to tonight and that’s okay. I should have asked first before grabbing at you like that, so I apologize.”

“No! No, it was okay, I just got nervous. I thought…I mean…when we were at the party I really thought I wanted to, I don’t know what happened. It got real all of a sudden and I panicked.”

“I like you, Y/N, I don’t mind waiting.”

“What do you mean you like me?”

“I mean I’ve had a fucking crush on you since the first time I tutored you. I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way, so I just kept it to myself.”

“Oh.” A boy had never liked Y/N like this before. Sure, she had found random drunk guys to make out with at parties before, but a boy had never openly said they liked her. “This is all so surprising, I’m a little overwhelmed.” She looks up at him and kisses his cheek. “But…I really liked what we did tonight, so maybe when I’m more sober we could talk about these feelings of yours more?”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and pecks her lips.

“Hit play, this is a good episode. She thinks her dad wrote a song about a bunny that stole his money.”

“Do hijinks ensue?”

“Oh, yes, many.”

“Fantastic.”

He leans forward to hit play, and she cuddles up with him.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with Harry’s arms wrapped around her. It was early. She squints and sees his clock says 7:15. Her head and stomach didn’t feel great, but she easily could have felt worse so she wasn’t complaining. She adjusts against him and turns over to lay on her back. His hand moves to the side of her neck, and he gives her cheek a few smooches, making her giggle.

“Morning.” His morning voice ripples through her. Harry was sexy, it was official.

“Morning.” She whispers.

“Wanna go to the dining hall for breakfast?”

“Could I stop by my apartment first?”

“Sure.” He gets out of bed and looks for something in his dresser. “Here.” He tosses her some sweatpants. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”

When he comes back she’s wearing her crop top paired with his sweats. She put his other clothes in his hamper. His towel was hanging low on his hips. He grabs some clothes and changes in his closet. He comes back out in a hoodie and joggers. He cleans his glasses and puts them on.

“You won’t be cold?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.”

They leave his place and walk to hers. Campus was always interesting this time of morning. There were other people walking back to their dorms and apartments. Y/N felt lucky she wasn’t walking alone.

“This is me.”

“Oh cool, you have student app. I’ve been to a couple of these, they’re nice.”

“Yeah, I have my own room, it’s just annoying that we still have to follow all the rules.” She unlocks the door and he stands outside with his hands in his pockets. “You can come in if you want? You can come up and wait in my room.”

“Alright.”

They both go in and head up the stairs. She was thankful her room was mostly clean, but her bed certainly wasn’t made. She grabs another shirt to change into and tells Harry she’s just gonna be in the bathroom. He sits on her bed and looks around her room. All of her hockey gear was piled up in a corner, she had posters of different teams she liked, and she had a poster of Dylan O’Brien from when he was on Teen Wolf.

She comes back shortly in a sports bra and his sweats, and her hair up in a messy bun. She throws on a hoodie of her own, and smiles at him.

“Okay, I’m all set.”

“Great, I’m starved. Definitely need a coffee too.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Just as she opens the door to go outside, she sees Amanda.

“Wait, I thought you stayed at his place.” She says.

“I did, we just came back here so I could change.”

“Those aren’t your pants.” She smirks. “Hi, Harry.” She teases.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Amanda.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where’s Gina?” Y/N asks.

“Passed out in her bed, I think. I made sure she got home before hooking up with this girl from the soccer team. My god, Y/N, she-“ Amanda stops herself. “I’ll tell you later, I need to shower. Where are you headed?”

“Dhall.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Y/N smiles and shakes her head at her friend. Her and Harry walk to the dining hall and swipe in. They decide on where to sit before going up to grab food.

“So, what other Disney shows are you going to catch up on?” She asks as she sips on her coffee once they’re at their table.

“I think That’s So Raven is up next.”

“Oh, excellent choice.” She smiles. He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm. He can’t stop smiling at her. “What?” She asks, shoveling eggs into her mouth.

“Nothing, I just think you’re cute.”

Y/N nearly chokes on her food, and takes a large sip of her iced coffee. He gives her a concerned look as she calms down.

“Oh, yeah, you have a thing for me.” She blushes. “Still need to get used to that.” 

“The real question is, do you have a thing for me? I mean, you must a little bit with how you were kissing me last night.” He gives her a coy look before biting into his toast.

“You’re…I mean, yeah, I have a thing for you. I like you, I like when we get together for tutoring. I even started looking forward to it.”

“How’d your test go yesterday, by the way?”

“I think it went really well…he said we should have our grades Monday.” Harry hums his response. “You’ll still tutor me, right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know…I just feel like I made things weird…”

“Would you stop with that? I had plenty of fun last night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.” He shrugs. “I really don’t care that I didn’t get my dick wet, Y/N. I care more about you being comfortable.”

“But you could have taken someone else home and-“

“I didn’t want to take anyone else home. Just wanted you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

“But…why?”

“Well, for starters, since we met you’ve just been utterly yourself. You’re not afraid to say what’s what. I like when people speak their minds. I’ve tutored a lot of athletes, and I’ve never seen one work as hard as you. Usually they want me to do everything for them, and I don’t because I can’t be there to take the fucking test for them, but you genuinely wanted to understand the material.”

“I just always look like such a schlub when we meet, though.”

“See, what you call schlubby, I call sporty. You usually go to the gym after our meetings, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. I like all people, but I’ve never really been attracted to frillier girls. I like when girls don’t feel the need to impress others all the time. You’re just comfortable, and I like that.”

“I dress up for class sometimes, I just-“

“You don’t need to justify anything, Y/N. I mean, you looked insanely hot last night, but even if you had shown up to that party in sweats, I still would have wanted you to come home with me.”

“So…you wanna, like, date me? Is that it?”

“Date, hang out, whatever.” He shrugs. “I’m not picky about labels.”

“And you’re not talking to anyone else?”

“I haven’t had the time. I’ve been tutoring this really needy girl that has to see me twice a fucking week.” He smirks at her and she nudges him.

“I may be small, but I could beat the shit out of you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, babe.” He winks and takes a sip of his coffee. “I have some stuff I have to do today, I like to get my homework done on Saturdays, but are you free tonight?”

“Yeah, we have the weekend off since we won. I don’t think the girls are doing anything, if they are I could always skip out, why?”

“My roommates and I are having a movie night if you’d like to come over.”

“I wouldn’t be crashing?”

“Not at all. They bring dates all the time.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds nice.”

“I can come get you too so you don’t have to walk alone.”

“What movie?”

“We haven’t decided yet. Nothing scary, I can tell you that.”

“Works for me.” 

//

“Spill it, bitch, let’s go.” Gina says as she pins Y/N down on the floor of the living room.

“You guys are annoying.” Y/N giggles from Gina tickling her. “Okay, okay!”

Gina gets off her and helps her up. She gets on the couch and lays her head in Amanda’s lap. Amanda strokes her hair and she sighs.

“We went back to his place, we made out, and then I got nervous so I didn’t take my clothes off, but we ended up dry humping, and things didn’t stay dry very long.”

“Oh my god, did he jizz in his pants?” Gina asks.

“No, but I did. I can tell he’s big, and we were grinding really hard on each other and I came.”

“Oh my god!” Amanda squeals. “What did he do?”

“He took care of himself in the bathroom, and gave me some clothes to wear. We ended up falling asleep watching Hannah Montana. God, and he likes me, like he really likes me, and I think I like him too. He invited me over for a movie night with his roommates later.”

“You know what was a good sign? The fact that he wanted to get breakfast with you, and walked you to and from the dining hall. That’s a man right there.” Amanda says.

“No, what makes him a man is that when Y/N said stop he stopped.” Gina remarks. “I like him already.”

“He was seriously so chill about it, I was honestly shocked. I appreciated it, but I wasn’t expecting him to be so okay with me not wanting to go further.”

“That’s the shitty thing about college. Good people are a dime a dozen.” Amanda says 

//

Y/N straightens her hair and puts a little makeup on. She settles on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt with the school’s logo on it. She takes a shot with the girls just to take the edge off, and hears a knock at the door. She grabs her jean jacket and opens the door.

“Hi, Harry.” She beams.

“Hey, love, how was your day?”

“Good.” She giggles and leans up to kiss his cheek, taking him a bit by surprise.

“Now, young man…” Amanda says, walking over with Gina. “What time can we expect our girl home?”

“Who said she’s not spending the night again?” He raises an eyebrow at them. “Quite liked waking up next to you.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N says, clearly flustered. “I’ll text in the group chat so you know what I’m doing, bye!” She pulls Harry out the door. “Don’t add fuel to their fire.” She nudges him.

“I was just being honest.” He throws his arm around her. “I hope you’ll stay again, but if you don’t want to I’ll bring you home, no big deal.”

Instead of going right up the stairs when they get to Harry’s place, he leads her down the corridor, passing by the kitchen and a hall bath, and into the large living room. There was a giant sectional sofa and even more giant TV across from it. There were a couple of guys sitting down already.

“Oi, there you are.”

“I said I was stepping out to get my girl, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Y/N, this is Louis and Niall.”

“Hi.” She says, trying not to melt into a puddle from being called his girl.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get some popcorn made. Do you want a beer or anything?”

“Beer’s fine, thank you.”

She sits down on the edge of the sofa and leans against the arm rest.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” Niall asks.

“Mhm…you look familiar, are you on the soccer team?”

“We both are.” Louis says.

“Oh, cool. Is it just the three of you here?”

“No, we have two other roommates, but they practically live at their girlfriend’s places.” Niall explains. “We have some other friends coming soon, though, it’s good for you to claim your spot now.”

“Yeah, some of the other senate kids usually join us.” Louis says. “So you’re the girl Harry’s been tutoring, huh? He won’t shut up about you, it’s pretty cute.”

“Oi! Don’t embarrass me or I’m not sharing the popcorn.” Harry says, tossing them each a beer, and handing Y/N one. He sits down next to her with the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

A few of the student senate kids show up and Harry ends up pulling Y/N into his lap to make room on the couch. She didn’t mind one bit. They had settled on Napoleon Dynamite for a movie, which was perfect. There was one girl, though, that had sat right next to Harry, and she had sort of been flirting with him. Take the hint, I’m in his lap, not you, Y/N thought to herself. Harry notices Y/N finish her second beer.

“Want another?”

“I can get it.”

“You’re my guest.” He kisses her cheek and lifts her up so he can get up.

“How long have you known Harry for?” The girl asks.

“Um…like a month? What about you?”

“We met last year.” She flips her hair.

“Here we are, a fresh beer.” He hands one to Y/N and tosses a couple out to his friends. He lifts Y/N up and plops her back in his lap, making her giggle.

Everyone was having a good time, laughing at the hilarious movie. The lights had been dimmed when the movie started, so Harry was able to discretely kiss on Y/N’s neck once in a while. When the movie ends, Louis and Niall let Harry know there’s a party at the soccer house and he can swing by if he wants, and out the door they go. That leaves Harry and Y/N with the senate kids. They get into a game of Cards Against Humanity, which ends up being pretty fun. It was starting to get late, though, and it was clear that Harry wanted to be alone with Y/N.

“One more round.” The girl says.

“Nah, come on, Ari, we should go.” A boy, Billy, says.

“Yeah.” Another boy, Andrew, agrees. “I’m beat, and we need to walk you home.” They both stand up, and he extends a hand to her. She groans, but stands.

Harry walks them all to the door and says goodnight. He walks back over to Y/N who was cleaning up the living room.

“You don’t have to do that, I can clean up, love.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a few cans.”

“Follow me, we have a recycling in the kitchen.”

She follows him in and he opens the door for the pantry where the kept a bucket for empty cans.

“That girl has a crush on you, yeah?”

“Who? Ari?! No way.”

“Come on, Harry.” She scoffs. “If I wasn’t sitting on top of you I’d say she was.”

“Aw, it’s cute your jealous.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I’m not, I’m just saying.” She wraps her arms around his neck. “I picked up on the vibe.”

“Well, even if she did it doesn’t matter because I don’t like her like that. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“I should fucking hope so.” He chuckles. “Wanna come up to my room?”

“Yeah.”

He pecks her lips and then leads her up the stairs. He flops onto his bed and she crawls on top of him. His hands find her hips and she rids him of his glasses, gently putting them on one of his pillows. She leans down so their chests are pressed to each other and they start kissing. One of his hands moves to the back of her head so he can tug at her hair.

“Can I…touch your butt?” Y/N laughs against him and nods yes. His hand slides further south and he squeezes her right cheek. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

She sucks on his bottom lip as her answer and he pushes his hips up to hers. They grind against each other just as they did the night before. Both of his hands knead her cheeks as her hand slide up under his shirt. They were both starting to sweat. She sits up on him and lifts her shirt off. His eyes grow wide as he sees her breasts practically spilling out of her bra.

“It’s hot.” She whines and tugs at the hem of his shirt. He sits up so she can pull it off him.

“Let me turn the fan on, yeah?”

She nods and lets him get up to turn his fan on. He snatches his glasses and puts them in their case on his desk, and then he gets back on the bed, sitting up against the wall, and she crawls back into his lap. He kisses on her necks and down her chest, biting on the fleshy parts of the tops of her breasts. She tugs at his hair and rolls her hips down on him.

“You…you can take it off if you want.”

“Are you sure? Is that what you want?” He looks up at her. “Last night…”

“I was really drunk, I have more of my wits about me now. I’m okay if my bra comes off.”

“Okay, but if you wanna cover back up just let me know.”

“I will.”

He reaches around and gets her bra unhooked in a couple of swift movements. He tugs it down her shoulders and tosses it to the floor. He gazes at her bare chest and licks his lips. His large hands cup both of them and he kneads them at first, just getting a feel. His thumbs rub circles into her nipples, getting them nice and hard. He kisses down her chest again, and just uses his tongue to lick and swirl around her nipple. Who was he? Y/N’s head was swimming. She thought Harry was just a stuffy, studious college kid, but fuck, he was almost…devious. He blows on her now wet nipple before wrapping his lips around it to suck on.

“Oh!” She gasps and presses his head closer to her. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, loving the new sensation he was bringing her. He pops off and does the same to the other one.

“So,” He says, kissing his way back to her neck. “No one’s ever had the privilege of seeing you like this?”

“No.” She swallows.

“I feel really lucky then.” He nips at her bottom lip. “You like the way it felt?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “Felt really good.”

“Good. I always wanna make you feel good.”

He puts his face between her breasts and press them around his cheeks, making her giggle. He mumbles something.

“What?” She laughs and he looks up at her.

“Just feels so nice, they’re so big.”

“Sometimes I have to wear two sports bras so I’m not bouncing around on the ice.”

“I bet.” He starts kneading them again.

“I feel like I just wanna do everything with you.” She says as she rolls her hips on him again.

“God, I feel the same way, but only when you really feel ready, Y/N.”

“I know, you just make me feel so comfortable.”

“Have you…I mean you said you’d never taken your pants off for someone before, but have you ever seen someone else?”

“Um, no…”

“So you’ve never gotten a guy off before.” He doesn’t ask, he’s more so confirming.

“Right.”

“Okay.” He smiles and kisses her. “Think we should cool it for the night then before I get a little too excited.”

“Oh, alright.” She was hoping to maybe come again. He lifts her up and sets her down. She crosses her arms over herself as he gets up, he looks over his shoulder at her.

“No need to cover up, babe, I’m just changing outta these pants.”

“I just feel a little exposed right now.”

“Want one of my shirts?”

“Yes, please.”

He tosses her a t-shirt and she puts it on. He strips down to his boxers and gets back on the bed. He furrows his brows at her leggings.

“You’re not gonna sleep in those, are you?”

“Well…I’m only wearing a thong underneath, so I’m not sure what else to do…”

“Christ.” He blushes and gets up, searching for a clean pair of boxers. “You can wear these if you want.”

“I feel like I’m going to own all of your clothes at some point.”

“I like the way they look on you, so I don’t mind.”

She stands up and turns around to change while he lays on the bed. He wants to respect her privacy, but he’s nineteen, so he sneaks a peak. She climbs onto the bed with him and snuggles up. He falls asleep before her, and she can’t help feeling restless.

“Harry.” She sits up nudges his shoulder. “Harry, are you awake?”

“I can be.” He says softly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…I just…um, would you…take care of me?”

“Y/N…” He sits up and caresses her cheek.

“It’s so hard just laying here next to you, I want you to touch me or something. You made me feel so good last night, and you got me all riled up before.”

“Left you hanging?”

“Yeah.” She pouts.

“What do you want me to do specifically? I only wanna do something you wanna do.”

“I don’t want to have sex, but I do want these boxers to come off, and I think I want your head between my legs…if you’re up for it, that is.”

“Oh, babe.” He smirks. “I’m more than up for it. Just tell me to stop if you get nervous.”

“I will.”

He shifts to get between her legs, and he tugs on the boxers, slowly sliding them down her legs. Once they’re gone he gently opens her legs up for him. She was shaking slightly.

“Hey, hey.” He leans up to kiss her. “You’re alright, yeah? Do you not want to do this?”

“No, I do, please it’s okay. I really wanna feel you on me.”

“Okay.”

He gets back between her legs. It was dark, so it was a little hard to see, but it wasn’t rocket science, so Harry licks up from her center to her clit. She gasps, and he does this a few times.

“Doing alright?”

“Yeah, keep going.” She bites her bottom lip.

He licks and sucks around her folds and then he sucks on her clit. This causes her hands to fly to his hair. He flicks the tip of his tongue on the small bundle and then sucks again. Y/N tries to stifle her moans by biting her lip, but it’s starting to hurt.

“No one’s home, love, just let it out.” He says against her. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Please, yes, need it.”

He smirks up at her, not that she can really see. He sucks his middle finger into his mouth before slowly inserting it. She gasps out a moan. He’s slowly lapping away at her clit while his finger goes deeper, to his knuckle. His hips press into the mattress, trying to get some relief of his own. She was so warm and inviting, and it was killing him. He was taking it slow with her, not wanting to hurt her, but he couldn’t help himself from twisting and curling his finger. He was looking for that special spot.

“Oh my god.” She gasps. Bingo. He’s got it.

“Right there?” He rubs his finger against it again.

“Yes, oh shit.” She groans.

Harry sucks on her clit while continuing to use his finger inside her. She can’t help the way she’s breathing and panting, it just makes him work faster and harder.

“H, Harry, I think I’m going to c….oh my god!” She throws her head back as she feels her release.

He retracts his finger and laps away at her center. He kisses her inner thigh to help calm her down. He sits back up slowly to look at her. He couldn’t tell, but her cheeks were flushed.

“Would you, um, walk with me to the bathroom?”

“Of course.”

She doesn’t bother putting the boxers back on. The shirt she was wearing covered her plenty, and he was just nose deep in her crotch so she didn’t need to be shy. Once she’s done he tells her to go wait for him in his room. He needed to take care of himself.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” He teases as he gets back into bed with her. 

“I feel bad…”

“About what?” He pulls her close to him so she can rest her head on his chest.

“I should have taken care of you.”

“One step at a time.” He kisses the top of her head. “When you feel ready we can do that. I feel happy that you trusted me enough to do what we just did.”

“I feel happy too.” She yawns.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that. 

//

Monday, Y/N got her test back from her Mind, Brain, and Evolution class. Her eyes grew wide when she saw her grade, an 88%! She was ecstatic, and couldn’t wait to tell Harry. She didn’t get to chat with him too much Sunday. He walked her home, kissed her goodbye, and then had to get some things done before his student senate meeting. Why they met on Sunday evenings was beyond her.

It was just her luck that he was at the dining hall for lunch at the same as her. She sets her food down and snatches the test from her bag.

“I’ll be right back ladies, gotta go tell my man how well I did.” She grins.

They all cheer her on as she struts over to him. She was clad in a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, but she still felt cute. She’s felt incredibly cute ever since Saturday night. Harry was deep in conversation with his friends Y/N goes right over to him and wraps her arms around him, shaking the paper in front of his face. It takes him completely by surprise. He snatches the test and he looks up at her.

“Oh my god!” he nearly squeals and stands up to hug her. “This is amazing! I knew you could do it.”

“A B+, I couldn’t believe it! I still can’t, and it’s all thanks to you.” She wraps her arms around his neck, not giving a fuck that his friends were watching, especially that girl Ari.

“It was all you, I’m so proud of you.” He kisses her forehead.

“I better get back over to them so I can eat, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“I’m glad you came over here. I’ll see you tomorrow at two, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles.

“Great, celebratory coffee on me then.” He smiles back and kisses her cheek before she walks away.

“So, you’re, like, dating the hockey girl?” Billy asks.

“There’s more to her than that.” Harry says as he sits down. “We’re hanging out.” He shrugs.

“What class are you even tutoring her in?” Ari asks.

“Mind, Brain, and Evolution. She’s actually really smart, she’s a business major. This class is just tricky.”

“I remember taking that last semester with you!” Andrew chimes in. “Think I only passed because we sat next to each other.”

“Now that she’s got a good grade you don’t still need to tutor her do you?” Ari asks.

“No, I’m definitely going to tutor her.”

“Why?”

“You know how when you go on antibiotics and you start to feel better, but you may have like half your pills left to take? You don’t just stop taking them until you feel better, right? You have to take all of your medicine.”

“Yeah, and Harry’s for sure gonna give her that medicine.” Billy teases him.

“Oh, stop. I like her, and she likes me. Thank god, thought I was going to explode from it being one sided.”

“When’s her next game?” Andrew asks.

“Wednesday. We have to make sure we go again. 

//

Harry already has the iced coffees ready to go when Y/N meets him in the café of the library Tuesday afternoon. She was clad in her workout clothes, hair up in a messy bun.

“Thank you.” She smiles and takes the coffee from him.

“I even put the cream and sugar in it for you.”

“I noticed, how kind.” She smirks.

They find a table to go study at and set up. She goes over the new unit and what’s already sort of not making sense to her. Harry goes over his notes, and does his best to explain things to her. After an hour or so, they take a break.

“How have you been feeling?” He softly asks her.

“About what?”

“What we did Saturday night…we haven’t even texted about it, so I didn’t know if you were avoiding the conversation.”

“Oh! I feel really great. Um, I guess I just didn’t know what to say. I’m glad we did it.”

“Me too.” He looks down and then back to her. “It’ll be nice to do it again, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles and a slight blush covers her cheeks. “Um, I don’t know if you’re coming to the game tomorrow or not, but-“

“I’ll be there.” He cuts her off. “Go on.”

“When we have games during the week we can’t exactly party all night, so we usually go downtown and order a bunch of food. Some of the girls invite their significant others, and, well, if you don’t mind being out a little late I was wondering if you’d wanna come too.”

“I’d love to.”

“Really?!”

“Sure.” He smiles. “Gotta be there for my girl.” He clears his throat. “Let’s get back to it, I don’t wanna make you late for the gym.”

Y/N liked that Harry was always so serious, she may not have before, but now she just thought it was cute. He lets her do some reading for class while he works on his own homework.

“This is nice.” He speaks up.

“What is?”

“Just doing homework together. We could do this more if you want. I’d obviously still tutor you on the clock, but we could get together sometimes to do other homework.” He stops typing and looks at her. “Then we could, uh, see each other more…if you wanted.”

“I’d like that.” She smiles. “I end up doing homework with the girls a lot, but you’re more than welcome to come over and join.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She looks at the time and sighs, closing her laptop and packing up.

“I have to get going.”

“I’m gonna stay here a bit longer, otherwise I’d walk you out.”

“That’s alright.” She leans down and pecks his lips before slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the game?”

“You will.” He smiles brightly. “Bye, love.”

“Bye.”

Y/N had butterflies. This was a dream come true.

//

The ice arena wasn’t as packed as the first home game, but there were still a lot of people there. The thing about women’s ice hockey is that you aren’t allowed to fight, so it’s less exciting than men’s ice hockey. Or, that’s what people say. It was annoying that they couldn’t fight. There were plenty of people that Y/N just wanted to deck while she was out there.

She looks out to the stands and sees Harry with the student senate crew holding up a sign for her. It had her number on it and everything. Harry looked cute in his beanie and sweater. Y/N played great and she loved looking over to see Harry cheering, not that she let it distract her. She was able to assist two goals, and the team won 4-1. It was an incredible game.

After the coach goes over what their next practice will consist of, and his congratulations, he leaves to let the girls change.

“Dinner down at the pub in twenty ladies!” Ashley yells.

Everyone runs to the showers to clean themselves up. Y/N throws on a pair of jeans and a black top. She grabs a light windbreaker and puts some product in her wet hair so it dries nice.

“Is Harry coming down?” Gina asks.

“Mhm, he’s going to meet us down there.” She smiles.

All of the girls walk down together. Ashley called ahead so there were a ton of tables pushed together. Harry was waiting outside the pub, along with some of other significant others. Y/N practically jumps on him.

“Great game.” He says into her neck.

“Thanks! I loved seeing you out there. It’s nice to actually have people cheering for us.” She kisses his cheek and lets him go.

Everyone finds their seats. Ashley and some of the other older girls order different pitchers of beer for the table. It was a college bar so no one was really double checking ID’s, especially on a Wednesday, so Y/N poured herself and Harry a glass of beer. They all cheer and clink their glasses.

Nachos, mozzarella sticks, chicken wings, fires, and anything else that could be thought of were ordered for everyone. Harry fit right in with everyone, already having a small report with Amanda and Gina.

“I still can’t get over this.” Ashley says. “Our little baby Y/N bringing a guy to dinner.”

“Didn’t you come to the party at our house?” Megan asks. “Is that how you two met?”

“No, he’s been tutoring me for a class.” Y/N explains. “He just happened to be at the party last weekend.”

“Well, Harry, you can come anytime. I know it was your idea to get more people at the women’s games.” Ashley says.

“Y/N told me how much it bothered her that senate goes to a lot of the guys’ games, thought it was only fair to support the girls too. Your games are way more fun to watch. You’re really fighting for it out there, you can feel it.”

“Oh, he’s a keeper for sure.” Megan says.

Y/N leans in to Harry and he puts his arm around her. She looks up at him once the attention is off her a bit.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a little bit?” She asks.

“I would, babe, but I have an 8AM, I need to go home after all this, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I have an early practice anyways…”

“I can hang out tomorrow night, though. I usually go to the soccer house with Niall and Louis, I’m sure they won’t care if you come.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She smiles and so does he. Damn him for being so responsible.

“Plus, I’ll see at two for tutoring, right?”

“Right.”

“I could come to your place for that.”

“I don’t think we’d get much tutoring done if we do that.” She winks at him and it makes him laugh.

Amanda and Gina give a few minutes to kiss Harry goodbye before they need to part ways.

“Sorry.” She tells them, wiping the corners of her mouth. “He’s such a good kisser.”

“Apparently on both sets of lips.” Amanda teases her.

“Stop! I told you that in confidence.”

“I still can’t believe it didn’t make you want to fuck him right after.” Gina says.

“Believe me, I think I’m getting ready for that, but I’m nervous to see it.”

“His dick?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, I’ve never really seen one before, and I can tell his is big. What if it breaks me in half?” She jokes.

“I bet he’d love to hear that, ask him to break your back.” Gina bursts out laughing.

“You two are annoying.” Y/N groans as they continue their walk to their place.

//

It was hard to get through tutoring for both Y/N and Harry. She wanted him, and he could tell. Every time she looked at him he could see it in her eyes. She was being especially pouty and touchy and it was getting to him. Somehow, they both made it through, and he told her he’d pick her up around nine to bring her to his place to pregame before going to the soccer house.

She gets her workout in, showers, and then makes dinner with Amanda and Gina. The three all get some more homework done before going upstairs to get ready.

“Alright, what am I wearing? Jeans and a crop top?”

“What if you wore like a bralette and some high waisted mom jeans?” Gina asks. “That’s always a look.”

“I don’t know what the vibe is at the soccer house, I don’t want to be too exposed.” She pulls out her mom jeans and a black short sleeve crop top. “I think this could be cute, and I’ll put some waves in my hair.”

“I like it.” Amanda asks. “You’re going to his place first, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Assert your dominance and pack an overnight bag. Bring your own toothbrush and pj’s. Show him you’re not afraid to get comfy.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I feel like I’ve been stealing his clothes.” She snatches a string backpack from the floor. “Plus, my drinks won’t clink the bag with some clothes in there. What are you two up to tonight?”

“I think we’re going over to the field hockey house for a bit, and then we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“Nice! That’ll be fun, they always throw great parties.”

The three all finish getting ready, and Y/N packs her hard seltzers into her bag. Harry knocks on the door right at nine, and she flings herself onto him. He chuckles as he kisses her.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Yup, bye girls!” She yells as she swings the door shut.

When they get into Harry’s she moves to go right up the stairs to his room, but he clutches her wrist.

“Pregame is in the kitchen, babe.”

“I know, I just wanna put my bag in your room first, is that alright?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” He goes upstairs with her and he watches as she pulls out shorts and a t-shirt, her toothbrush, and her hairbrush.

“It’s okay I brought this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I want you to be comfortable.”

“Just making sure.” She grabs her bag and they both head downstairs.

She cracks open a seltzer and they all listen to music while they get a little buzzed. Niall and Louis were funny. Harry leaves her down in the kitchen with them for a few minutes while he goes upstairs to put his contacts in. He didn’t like wearing his glasses to parties because one time someone pushed him, they fell off, and broke. His mum wasn’t too happy when she had to ship him a new pair.

“Did you all live together last year too?”

“Nope, I met Harry from class, and we were already on the soccer team together.” Niall says. “They have these mandatory international student meetings, so the three of us sort of just started hanging out. Lou’s a couple years older so we were able to get off campus. The other two, who are literally never here, are international students too. It all sort of just worked out.”

“Harry’s a great roommate too, he cooks a lot.” Louis chuckles.

“Because if I didn’t.” Harry says as he comes back in. “You two would waste your money on shit all the time.” He throws his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and finishes off his drink.

“We ready? It’s ten, gotta get there before they start turning people away.” Louis says.

Everyone agrees, so Harry loads up Y/N bags with some drinks, and out the door they go.

”I have to warn you, the soccer house is gross.” Harry says. “Those guys leave it a mess. It’s huge so it’s great for a party, but you’re better off having a wee in the bushes than using one of their bathrooms.”

“Well, I’m glad I went before we left then.” Y/N chuckles.

They all get inside, and music is already blaring. Y/N recognizes a few of the guys and she gives them hugs. They congratulate her on her win from the night prior. The house packed already, it smelled like various types of smoke, the floors were sticky with god knows what, and there were a fuck ton of guys.

“Y/N you need a drink?” One of them asks.

“No, I brought my own, but thanks!” She follows Harry into another room where things were a bit more chill. They each take a drink out of her bag and crack them open.

The party was fun for the most part, good music was playing, and Harry looked fucking hot. Y/N liked that he clearly had outfits for partying and outfits for school. Tonight he was wearing a blue short-sleeve button up with the first few buttons undone paired with a black pair of skinny jeans that had a few rips in them. He had rings on his fingers and his nails were painted a pastel purple.

Y/N wished she hadn’t been drinking so much because she desperately needed to pee. She wondered if what Harry said was true, if the bathrooms were really that gross. She searches for another girl and leaves his side.

“Hey, this is random, but you wanna go to the bathroom with me?”

“OMG, sure!” She says brightly. The girl had long blonde hair and a tight dress on.

“Thanks!”

That was the one good thing about drunk girls, they were always willing to be a bathroom buddy. The girl tugs Y/N up a set of stairs.

“Less people using this one!” She says over the music.

She was right, no one was upstairs. It was nice to take a break from the loudness. Both girls go into the bathroom and grimace.

“I don’t get this, boys need to sit down to shit, wouldn’t they try to keep it clean?” The girl scoffs and checks her makeup in the mirror.

“Guess I’ll be squatting.” Y/N sighs, and unzips her pants. She squats over the toilet and pees. “Thanks for coming with me, I wasn’t about to ask my…uh, my date to come with me.”

“No problem girl! I need a pee break myself.”

Y/N flushes and stands up all the way, switching spots with the girl so she could pee. Y/N washes her hands and checks her own makeup.

“Who are you here with?” The girl asks as she pulls her panties back, moving to wash her hands.

“Harry Styles.”

“Oh! I’ve seen him around, he’s cute.”

“Very.” They both giggle. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Karina.”

They smile and both head out and down the stairs. They wave goodbye to each other as they make their way back to their people. Y/N walks right up behind Harry and wraps her arms around him. He’s surprised at first and then relaxes when he sees it’s Y/N.

“Where’d you go with that girl?!”

“To the bathroom! We used the one upstairs!”

“Did you know her?!”

“Nope!” She laughs and so does Harry.

As the night goes on, Y/N starts to feel dancey and notices other people dancing in one of the larger rooms, so she tugs Harry over and wraps her arms around his neck so they can grind front to front. His hands go right to her hips, and his lips find her cheek and then her neck. One of her hands slides up to his hair to rake through. She noses his jaw to get his attention and suddenly her tongue was in his mouth. He pulls her closer and backs them up towards a wall, pressing her up against it. She wondered, briefly, how many girls Harry had made out with at a party. She knew he had to have fucked a lot. No guy could be that good at eating out without some practice. The jealousy she feels seeps in and she bites down on his lower lip a little too hard. He winces and pulls away for a moment. He catches his breath and looks down at her, moving some hair away from her face.

“Alright?!”

“How often do you do this?!”

“Do what?!”

“Make out with girls at parties! Take those girls home and fuck them!” She wasn’t sure where this was all coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was starting to sink in that she gave up a part of herself to someone that she had only known a few weeks.

“Hey! Whoa! Where is this…” He leans in to speak into her ear. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just feeling…weird all of a sudden. You have so much experience, and I don’t have a lot, so-“

He moves back to look at her. He cups her jaw and leans in to kiss her. He gives her a few kisses before moving his lips to her ear again.

“Let’s get out of here, then we can talk more, okay?”

She nods yes and he takes her hand. He leads her out of the house, and the chilly night air hits her like a ton of bricks.

“Can you walk alright?” He asks her.

“Can I? Yes. Do I want to? No.”

“Alright, well hop on.” He crouches in front of her.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, all aboard.”

She giggles and hops onto his back. She rests her chin on his shoulder and nibbles on his earlobe, making him giggle.

“Thought you were upset with me for a second.”

“I got jealous.”

“Of what, babe?”

“Anyone that’s ever been with you.” She shamelessly admits. “I know that’s dumb.”

“I haven’t been with that many people.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“It is if it’s bothering you, Y/N.”

“You’re just really good at it, and it made me think that you’ve had a lot of practice. Not to mention that everything you do surprises me. I’m still shocked that you’re the type of guy to make out openly at a party.”

“I mean, yeah, I’m a nice guy, but I’m like any other guy sometimes. I’m respectful, but I still wanna have fun.”

He gets to his place and sets her down so he can unlock the door. They both go straight to his room, and they sit on the edge of his bed.

“We were having such a good time, walk me through what happened?” He asks as he gets up to take his contacts out.

“I don’t know, it was like while we were kissing it made me think of how many times you’ve done that sort of thing before. Doesn’t that happen to you with me?”

“Not really.” He sits back down next to her, running a hand through his hair. He kicks his boots off and looks at her. “I’m more or less just lost in you.”

“I think I’m just feeling vulnerable since we haven’t been alone since I was so exposed to you.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you last night when you asked me to come home with you.”

“No! It’s okay, we both had to get up early. I’m being dumb and needy.” She shakes her head.

“You’re not being either of those things. We can wait a while to do something like that again if you want.”

“No! I don’t want to wait. I really liked it. I guess, I mean…”

“Are you worried that you’re not the only one?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Babe, I’m not talking to anyone else, I thought it was pretty clear. I’m not in a rush to put a label on anything, but I’m not fucking anyone else, I swear.”

“Okay…”

“I’ve only ever fully been with like six people if that makes you feel better.”

“Harry, I really don’t need to know.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m some sex maniac. I had sex in high school, and then there were a couple of girls last year, and then a couple people this past summer. If I seem good at it, it’s only because I’m vocal and I ask to make sure things feel good, that’s all.”

“Alright, I’m sorry for being so stupid. I ruined the entire night.”

“You’re not stupid, and you didn’t ruin anything, okay? I’m gonna go get us some water, feel free to change and then we can just watch TV or something.”

“Oh.”

“What?” He asks as he stands up.

“I just thought, you know, you’d want to take my clothes off for me.”

“I mean, I do, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We both had a lot to drink, Y/N.” He gives her a soft smile and leaves to go downstairs.

She sighs heavily and then changes into the pj’s she brought. He comes back and hands her a glass. He starts unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

“I really like what you have on tonight.”

“Yeah? I liked your outfit too. Although, you look pretty cute right now.” He smirks and drags his jeans down his legs and gets onto the bed with a sigh. 

“Oh, do I?”

“Mhm, very cute.” His eyes trail down her body and they grow wide when they get to her legs. “What happened here?” He points to the various bruises on her thighs and shins.

“Oh, it’s just from going to the gym and games and stuff. I always have bruises on me.” She shrugs. “No big deal.”

“Poor thing.” He rubs his hand over one of her thighs.

“It’s really not a big deal.” Goosebumps raise on her skin from his gentle touch. She lays down fully next to him, rolling onto her side to face him. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She nuzzles into his chest and he rubs her back. They stay like that for a while, and she starts to hear her breathing level out. He carefully gets up to turn his light off, and goes back to the way he was.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up pressed into Harry’s side. He was out like a light. She gets up and grabs her toothbrush and pads out to the bathroom. She gets in and locks the door behind her. She splashes some cool water onto her face, and brushes her teeth. She tip toes back to Harry’s room, and crawls back into bed.

“Where’d you go.” He mumbles as he moves to spoon her.

“Just to the bathroom.” She whispers.

He nuzzles into her back, pressing his pelvis to her ass. He pushes a leg between hers to get especially cozy. She adjusts against him, and things sort of just sped up from there. He started moving against her and the second she whimpered, he was dipping his hand into her shorts.

“Is this okay?” He asks, kissing on the exposed part of her neck.

“Yes.” She breathes.

His fingers rub on her clit at first before going between her folds. He groans when he feels how wet she is. He drags it up to her clit to rub circles on her. She turns over onto her stomach and he follows her, continuing to grind himself against her ass, and rubbing on her clit.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Hearing him moan her name was doing things to her. She moves her hips along with his, and she starts to feel warm all over. She was moaning into his pillows, and he feels her writhe under him while she comes. He takes his hand away once she’s done, and she rolls onto her back.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…give you a hand job?”

“You really want to?”

“Yeah, I really do.” She bites her bottom lip and he moves to lay next to her.

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

He starts to lower his boxers and he looks at her again. She nods and he gets them of all the way. Her eyes widen. He really was big, and thick too. She sort of knew what to do. She had seen enough porn to know she at least needed to make sure her hand was wet, so she spits into it, and carefully grips him. He hisses from her touch.

“Wanna know what I like?” He asks her.

“Yeah.”

“While you do it, put these fingers over my tip.” He moves her fingers he wants them and then she moves them back and forth while her hand works around him. “Shit, just like that, it’s perfect.”

Y/N can’t help but look at Harry’s perfectly sculpted happy trail that leads down to the small tufts of hair right at his base. His balls weren’t hairy, he clearly did a lot of manscaping. In a bold move she uses her other hand to cup his balls, and his head rolls back into the pillow.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, just, like, massage them a little, but not too hard.”

She nods and gives him gentle squeezes while her hand continues to work on him. This wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t sure what she was so nervous about, it was just a penis. She licks her lips and looks at him.

“Can I…put my mouth on it?”

“Fuck, yeah, please.” He grips the sheets as she wraps her lips around his tip. “Just no teeth!” He reminds her at the last second and she pops off.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Unhinge my jaw?”

“No.” He chuckles. “Just try to keep your lips around your teeth or keep your mouth wide. Use your tongue more than anything.”

She nods and goes back down. He has to fight to buck up into her. She only keeps her mouth around his tip, not wanting to go crazy. She pumps the rest of him, drool dripping down her chin.

“Y/N, I’m getting close.”

She keeps sucking on him. When she looks up at him, making eye contact, he loses it. She spurts into her mouth and her eyes widen at the taste. It didn’t taste bad, but it certainly didn’t taste good either. She takes it all, but she sure as shit wasn’t going to swallow. She looks around his room for his trash and when she spots it, she gets off the bed and spits into it. She grabs the glass of water from his desk and swishes it around her mouth before spitting again.

“Sorry.” She breathes. “I just-“

“You’re apologizing? Get your ass over here.” He smirks. She gets back onto the bed and he holds her close. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to swallow it unless you really wanted to. I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

“So, you’re not offended?”

“You just gave me a blow job, I’m not offended at all.” He kisses her forehead. “I’m just gonna go use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” He grabs his boxers and slips them on and leaves the room.

Y/N snatches her phone and texts in the group chat letting Amanda and Gina know what just happened. She couldn’t wait to get home, she needed to talk about it now. When Harry gets back she nearly throws her phone. She puts her phone down gently and cuddles up to him when he lays back down. He kisses on the top of her head a couple of times and rubs her back.

“That felt really good, by the way.”

“You’re not just saying that?” She pouts up at him.

“Not at all, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that. It was nice to feel the real thing.” His lips curve up as he looks down at her. “You’re a natural, sure you’ve never done that before.”

“Never, I swear.” She giggles. “I’m glad it was good for you.”

“It was fantastic.” He sighs.

After snuggling a little longer, they both decide to get up. Harry makes Y/N some eggs and toast for breakfast before walking her home. They get to her door and he has trouble saying goodbye. His lips just won’t leave hers.

“You have practice today?”

“Mhm, and then an away game tomorrow. We leave early in the morning. I’ll text you when I get home, maybe we can meet up.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles. “So I won’t see you at all tonight?”

“No, we’re not allowed to go out the night before an away game.”

“Fair enough.” He sighs. “Alright.” He kisses her against, sucking on her bottom lip before letting her go. “Can’t wait to hear how the game goes.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

She goes inside and runs upstairs. She knocks on Amanda’s door before going in and they both squeal. Gina comes in and squeals with them. 

//

It was a rough game. They lost by one goal. The bus was quiet at first, but the coach ended up farting and it made everyone laugh, lightening the mood. They wouldn’t be going out to celebrate tonight, but Y/N knew a few of the girls would be getting together. She was pooped and didn’t feel like drinking. She was sitting in the window seat on the coach bus next to Gina, who was turned talking to one of the other girls, so she takes the opportunity to call Harry. Now that she thinks about it, they’ve never spoken on the phone before. She puts her headphones in and dials his number.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey! How was the game, babe?”

“We lost…by one goal.” She sighs.

“I’m sorry, that must not feel great. I watched the live stream, but I was only able to catch the beginning.”

“You…you actually watched part of it?”

“Yeah! I wanted to support you. I had to tutor this afternoon so that’s why I wasn’t able to watch the whole thing.”

“Well, thanks for watching a little…”

“Of course, babe.”

“Um, we should be back to campus in an hour. I need to shower and stuff, and I don’t really feel like going out, but would you wanna come over and cuddle?”

“I’d love to. I’ll bring my laptop so we can watch Disney movies.”

“That sounds amazing. I’ll text you once I’m all set.”

“Sounds good, see you soon.”

Y/N hangs up and taps Gina on the shoulder. She tells her that Harry’s gonna come over and she nods excitedly. She takes the second shower once Amanda is done, and then puts on a pair of comfy sweat pants and throws on a t-shirt. Harry comes over, and she takes him right up to her room.

“What are your roommates up to tonight?”

“Not sure, they’re probably just hanging out too.” They both get onto her bed. “Sorry there’s not as much room as your bed.”

“Are you kidding, this is going to be a great cuddle.”

He sits up against the wall, and has her sit in front of him, placing the laptop at the foot of the bed. They decide on The Goofy Movie. Although, Harry is being very distracting. He rubs Y/N’s shoulders and neck, and then his arms wrap around her waist. He gets up under her shirt, one hand kneading one of her breasts, and the other dips into her sweatpants. He starts kissing on her neck and her head rolls back to his shoulder. She bites her bottom lip as his fingers get inside her underwear and start rubbing at her clit. His middle finger slips inside her and she gasps.

“Alright?” He nips at her earlobe.

“Mhm, don’t stop.” She bites her bottom lip. They’ve both forgotten about the movie, almost thankful it’s just background noise to help muffle things. “M’getting too hot, Harry.” She whines.

He nearly rips her shirt off, exposing her full chest to him. She gets up and wiggles out of her sweatpants. He gets his own shirt off, and then she straddles him. She kisses down his neck and sucks where she pleases.

“I did some thinking last night while you were gone.” He says between pants.

“Oh yeah?” She rolls her hips down on him.

“Yeah.” He grips her hips and moves his up to meet hers. “If I’m only seeing you, and you’re only seeing me, then I think I should just cut the crap and ask you to be my girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“You…I thought the labels-“

“I was being stupid about that. I wanna be your boyfriend, Y/N. Can’t risk anyone else scooping you up. I need you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

“Like, officially though.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want you to be my boyfriend too.”

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and goes to change his Facebook status when he realizes something.

“We’re not even friends on here…”

“We’re not?! Could have sworn that happened when you started tutoring me.”

“No, I guess not. Think that was just insta.” He sends her a friend request, and she accepts, and then they both change their statuses. “There, now there’s no question about it.” They both set their phones on the floor, and get back to it.

Their tongues slide against each other as he gropes various parts of her body. Things were getting hot and heavy fast.

“Want you, please.” She whimpers against him.

“What?”

“Please, Harry, fuck me.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m ready, I swear. We’re both sober, I want this. Please, Harry, please fuck me, don’t make me beg.” She pouts. “Fuck, I don’t have any condoms.”

“I…have some in my backpack.” He blushes. “I just keep them in there, I didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad you have some. Do you wanna do this?”

“I do, but only if you’re really sure.”

“I am.” She smiles and he nods. She gets off of him and lies down on the bed while he searches through his backpack.

“Do you want me to finger you some more?”

“No, I really just want your dick.” She slides her underwear down her legs and tosses them to the floor.

His mouth was watering. He strips himself of the rest of his clothes and snatches a condom. He makes sure her door is locked, and closes his laptop before getting on top of her. He opens the foil packet, and rolls the rubber down his length.

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, Harry, I swear.”

“I’ll stop at any second, okay? You just need to speak up.”

“Okay.”

She spreads her legs apart for him, and he leans down to kiss her. He rubs his tip against her clit and through her folds, making sure she’s wet. He starts to push inside her, and all she feels is pressure and stretching. It sort of burned a bit as he did it. She takes a deep breath and digs her nails into his shoulders.

“Almost all the way in, can you take it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can take it.”

He groans once he’s all the way in. He was so fucking snug inside her, it was a miracle he didn’t nut right then and there.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” She had a couple of tears in her eyes.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“It hurts a little, but not enough that I want to stop. I’m just getting used to you. Try moving.”

“Okay.”

He slowly rocks in and out, watching her face to make sure she wasn’t in too much pain. It was crazy, it was a like a switch went off because as soon as he got going with a good pace, it started to feel good. Even the stretching, she liked how it all felt. One of his hands kneads her breast and tweaks her nipple and his lips attach to her neck.

“Okay, babe?” He says into her ear.

“So good, Harry.” She wraps her legs around his back and digs her heels into his ass.

He couldn’t do much with her tonight, he knew that. He couldn’t fuck her from behind or even let her on top, but he could make her feel amazing. He snakes a hand between them and rubs her clit.

“Oh!” She gasps.

“Like that, baby girl?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes, Harry.” She arches up into him. She’s breathing heavily and scratching at his back. She almost felt like she needed to pee, but she knew it was just her orgasm getting ready to wash over her. “Shit, oh fuck, shit!” She cries out as she comes around his cock.

He spills into the condom shortly after, not being able to hold on much longer himself. He pulls out of her slowly, not wanting to hurt her and she winces.

“I know, baby, I know.” He feels terrible, he knew she had to feel sore. He gets up and throws the condom out in her trash and gets back over to her quickly, caressing her cheeks, applying kisses all over her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and practically melts at his tenderness. “I really need to pee.” She chuckles.

“Alright, let’s getcha to the bathroom then.”

“I can go on my own. Just need a shirt.”

“Take mine.” He grabs it off the floor and hands it to her. He slips his own boxers back on, and helps her stand up.

He watches her waddle out of the room. She winces as she uses the toilet, and she grimaces at the toilet paper when she sees a light pink color. He was so careful with her, extremely gentle, but she was still a virgin at the end of the day. Well, not anymore. She just gave something major to Harry. She waddles back to her room, and smiles when she sees him still half naked, waiting in her bed.

“Do you want the side with the wall, or-“

She practically jumps on top of him, and she attacks him with kisses. They both giggle and then she settles to lay on top of him for a bit. He rubs her back and soothes her as best he can. He gets up to use the bathroom, and when he comes back they decide to finish their movie and spoon before falling asleep.

//

Harry held Y/N all night. She felt extremely safe in his arms, and it was exactly what she needed after doing something so big for her. She adjusts against him, and he gives her kisses on the back of her neck and she smiles. She turns over and buries her face in his chest. He strokes her back and kisses the top of her head. He was being careful with her, knowing that she would need some extra reassurance.

“How are you feeling?” He finally asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m okay.” She mumbles. “A little sore, but I’ll be alright.”

“I tried not to be too rough with you, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him and smiles.

“You weren’t rough at all…I probably should have let you finger me a little more beforehand. I just really wanted you.”

“Can’t blame you for that.” He smirks and she swats a hand at his chest. “Kidding.”

“Mhm, sure you were.”

“Do you have plans today?”

“Just homework and stuff. I’m dreading our practice tomorrow morning, the coach is gonna ride us for losing.” She sighs.

“It was your first loss, right?”

“Yeah, so it’s not terrible, but it could easily be the start to a losing streak, so we need to prevent that.” They both shift so Harry’s on his back, and she’s got her head on his chest. “Why? Did you want to do something?”

“Well, I was thinking I could go back to my place and shower, and then I could come back here to do homework or something…we could get brunch at the dining hall.”

“God, I love brunch at dhall. Could I invite Amanda and Gina? They’ll be jealous.”

“Sure! I don’t care.” He kisses her forehead and gets up. She watches him stretch, and he gets his clothes on. “Wanna just meet over there in, like, an hour?”

“Works for me.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.” He leans down and pecks her lips before slipping out.

Just as she’s getting out of bed, and putting some shorts on, Gina and Amanda burst into her room.

“You guys wanna come to the dining hall with us in a bit?” Y/N asks with a smug look on her face.

“Yes, but we have more important things to discuss.” Amanda says. “What the hell happened in here last night?”

“Oh god, did you guys hear anything?”

“Only a little.” Gina says. “I just put headphones in.”

“Okay, so this is going to sound like he and I have bene moving fast, well, I guess we have been, but…we had sex last night.”

“Like full on?!” Amanda asks. The three sit on the bed together.

“Yeah, he was like rubbing up on me and stuff, and we were making out, and I told him I wanted to. He was so sweet, he kept asking me if I was sure and everything.”

“Did you make sure to pee after?” Gina asks.

“Yeah…and I think I bled a little…I’m a little sore. He was so sweet on me, though, like he took it really slow.”

“Did it hurt while he was doing it?” Amanda asks.

“A little in the begging, like when he first put it in, and then all of a sudden it started to feel really good. I think he was hitting my g-spot or something. He rubbed my clit too, I didn’t know an orgasm could feel so good.” She blushes. Her and the girls have had plenty of these conversations, so it wasn’t that weird to be so open, but just thinking about the previous events was making her feel an ache between her legs.

“Good for you! And he asked to go to the dining hall with you?” Gina asks.

“Yeah, he asked me if I had plans today. He held me all night too. We, like, made things official last night…on Facebook…”

“Oh shit!” The girls say and both take their phones out. They like the status update.

“I’m gonna go shower quick, and then we can get ready to go?” Y/N asks.

“Definitely.” Amanda says.

They both watch Y/N stand up. She breathes funny for a second and then she sneezes.

“Ow! Oh my god!” She grabs at her lower stomach.

“What happened?” Gina asks, concerned.

“Felt like my vagina was gonna fall out.” Y/N says and they all start laughing. “Fuck, this is going to be a long day…”

//

Harry really liked Y/N’s friends. They were chill, but blunt. He knew Y/N must have filled them in on the night prior, but he didn’t mind. He knew the first time was a big deal for anyone, his certainly was, even if it was when he was seventeen.

“Harry, you’re on senate right?” Gina asks.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Why?”

“Is it true you guys have these really long meetings on Sunday nights?”

“Mhm.” He sighs. “We meet up at five, and we all have to be dressed up because sometimes different staff and faculty come to the meetings, so we need to look professional. I’ve been there as late as 10PM sometimes. Certain motions take forever to get through, it’s annoying. The only perk is that we get food provided.”

“And that’s why you get a lot of your homework done on Saturdays, right?” Y/N says.

“That’s right.” He smiles at her.

“How come you wanted to on senate and not join a normal club?” Amanda asks.

“I wanted to be involved with how things are done on campus.” Harry shrugs. “I was on student senate in high school, so I wanted to continue with it here.”

“What made you want to study at an American university? Aren’t schools way less expensive where you’re from?” Gina asks.

“They can be. I just thought this would be a good time for me to get away and travel. It makes me appreciate home more when I go back.”

“Makes sense.” Gina says. “I’m actually from Florida, and only came up here to play hockey.”

“Same here, I’m from California.” Amanda tells him.

“I think I’m one of the few in-state students on our team.” Y/N says.

“That’s cool though that this school has such a good hockey program that you wanted to come here.”

After lunch, Harry comes back to Y/N’s apartment, and they all hang out to do homework in the living room. When 4PM hits he explains he needs to go home so he can get ready for senate.

“Thanks for hanging out today, it was nice.” Y/N says as they stand in the doorway.

“Yeah, it was.” He puts his thumb and forefinger on her chin to tilt her chin up. He leans down and gives her a nice, slow kiss. “When do I see you next?”

“I don’t know…Tuesday for tutoring?”

“Works for me.”

“I mean, I’m sure we’ll talk before then.”

“Most likely.” He grins.

“Okay, well, have a god senate meeting.”

“Thanks.” He gives her another kiss before heading out.

“He’s, like, dreamy.” She says to the girls when she walks back into the living room. “I think I’ll keep him around.” She giggles with them.

//

Harry was just finishing getting his tie on for the senate meeting, and he thinks to send Y/N a mirror selfie so she could see what he has to wear. He puts a pout on his face and puts a caption on it asking her to just kill him. Joking, of course.

When she gets the DM, she bites her bottom lip. She thought he looked really good. So she told him that, well she told him he looked really sexy, and that was just about all he needed to stay distracted for his entire meeting.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your vote on giving Awesome Weekends more funding?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, I just think if we do this we need to see some return on investment. I want to make sure that students actually go to the events they put on. The money should go towards more advertising and stuff like that. I mean, but just word of mouth we were able to get more people at sporting events. The events Awesome Weekends put on aren’t exactly always awesome.”

“They’ve proposed more free skate nights.” Billy says. “Off-setting the cost of rentals. That’s why a lot of students don’t go to that normally. They’re also working on more movie nights, and late night dining.”

“Alright, I vote yes then, but it needs to be a trial basis. We need to see how it works. If they want the same amount of money next year then they can say why they deserve it in allocations this spring like everyone else.”

“I agree with Harry.” Ari says. “I say we boost it now, but let it be clear that if they want more next year, they’ll have to ask for it during allocations like everyone else.”

“Thanks.” He whispers to her.

“No problem.” She smiles.

“Alright, let’s take a fifteen minute break.” The senior class president says.

“You’re a little distracted tonight, are you alright?” Ari asks Harry.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says, taking out his phone. Y/N had sent him a selfie of her own, snuggled up in bed, and he smiles at it. “These meetings just go on forever sometimes. My girlfriend’s already in bed for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s only 9:30…wait, did you just say girlfriend?”

“Yeah, made it official with her last night.” He smiles dreamily.

“The girl from the hockey team?!”

“Um, yeah…why?”

“I…well, no offense, but she just seems sort of frumpy for you, Harry.”

“Frumpy? That’s sort of rude, Ari.” He frowns. “I think she’s really pretty.”

“I just meant, like, she’s always wearing sweats and stuff.”

“A lot of people on teams do that. What do you care how she dresses anyways?” 

“I just think people should care more about how they look before they leave for the day.”

“You’ve never seen her dressed up for a party then, because-“ He cuts himself off. “You know what, I don’t need to do this. I like her, she’s my girlfriend, and that’s it. As my friend, I hope you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m ecstatic.” She huffs and gets up to grab some more water.

“I don’t like her attitude at all.” Harry says to Andrew.

“Dude…she has a thing for you, and you just rubbed a new relationship in her face. I was sort of hoping she’d stop liking you when you brought Y/N over for that movie night, but I guess not.”

“She what?!” He whisper screams. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

“Probably because she knew you didn’t like her back. She’s had a thing for you since last year.”

“Shit, I feel terrible.” He looks over at Ari and then back to Andrew. “Should I talk to her?”

“No, she’d probably just be embarrassed. You said you’re official with Y/N now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she just need to accept it. She’ll move on now that she knows she really doesn’t have a chance.”

“Ari’s really nice, and pretty in her own right, I just like sportier girls, I always have.”

“Hey, I think Y/N’s hot, so you don’t have to explain it to me.” He smirks.

“Don’t ever say that to me again…but thanks.”

It was nearly 10:30 by the time Harry got back to his apartment. He goes straight to his room and flops onto his bed. He groans and then changes out of his nice clothes, and goes to do his nightly routine in the bathroom. He gets settled in bed, and takes his phone out.

Harry: goodnight, Y/N, sweet dreams <3

Y/N gets the text and nearly squeals. Harry was so sweet.

Y/N: night! <3

//

Y/N groans when her alarm goes off at 6AM. Sometimes she really hated having early ice times, but nonetheless she gets up and puts her warm ups on. She grabs her phone and decided to be a little cute.

Y/N: morning, Harry! Hope you have a great day :)

She gets her gym bag together, and meets Amanda and Gina downstairs. They each grab a granola bar, and head out the door.

Harry wakes up at 6:15 to get ready to go to the gym. His heart skips a beat when he sees Y/N’s good morning text, and the smile on his face grows wider as he rereads it.

Harry: morning, love, hope coach doesn’t go too hard on you

He looks outside and sees that it’s pretty nice out, and decides to just go for a run. Harry liked getting his workout over with in the mornings. It gave him a lot of energy for the day, and once it was done, it was done.

Coach had the girls sprint across the ice way too many times, and then he had them work on their slap shots. They scrimmaged until they couldn’t scrimmage anymore. He said that they better get it together for their next away game Wednesday. They needed to be able to win on the road, not just at home.

Y/N was drenched in sweat, as were the other girls. She peels her padding off and the rest of her clothes, and hops into the shower. She needed to look nice for one of her business classes today, so she puts on a pair of tan nylons to cover her legs. It was getting colder, but it wasn’t quite black-tights seasons yet. Then she puts on a green short-sleeve blouse, and pairs it with a black pencil skirt that comes to right above her knees. This was her “fancy” skirt for presentations. She straightens her hair and puts some makeup on, and then slips in her black flats. Amanda and Gina were dressed up too.

“We better get points for looking so nice, or I’ll kill this professor.” Gina says.

“Right? Like, there has to be style points.” Y/N says.

“Let’s just get up to campus and get this over with.” Amanda says. “A presentation at 8:15, who the fuck thought that was a good idea?”

The girls crushed their presentation, of course, but Y/N didn’t have time between her other classes to change, so she just toughs it out. She figures after lunch she can run home quickly to change into her workout clothes.

Andrew and Ari were in line at the dining hall, waiting to get sandwiches when they see Y/N walk by with some of the other hockey girls.

“What were you saying about her being frumpy?” Andrew says to her, nudging her arm.

“Stop it.” She groans. “I’m embarrassed enough for how I acted last night. I’m lucky Harry’s even sitting next to me.”

Y/N accidentally bumps into someone while she’s getting herself a glass of water.

“I’m so sorry, I…oh, hi, Harry.” She beams.

“Y/N, hi.” He blushes when he looks her up and down. “You look, um, nice.”

“Thanks, I had this stupid presentation for my marketing class this morning, and I haven’t had a chance to change yet. Hoping to after lunch.” They both walk into the dining area together. “I have like an hour before my next class so I’m gonna eat quick and head back.”

“Do you…want some help changing out of all that?” He asks, stepping close so no one hears him.

“Um…”

“I’m sitting right over there, come grab me when you’re done eating, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He smiles and kisses her cheek before walking away. Y/N goes over to sit down with her friends, face completely flushed.

“Are you alright?” Ashley asks.

“Yeah, um, I think I just made a dick appointment, so I can’t stay long.”

“Oh my god!” Ashley squeals. “Damn, with Harry?”

“Yeah.” Y/N smiles. “I told him I was going to change after lunch and he just asked me if I needed help.”

“Oh, shit!” Amanda laughs. “What a fuckboy thing to say, but damn, I don’t think I’d say no either.”

“He’s, like, way more smooth than I ever would have thought.”

Y/N only eats about half of her lunch out of nerves, and then says goodbye to everyone. She walks over to Harry’s table, and clears her throat. He looks over at her and smiles, getting up with his empty dishes. He says goodbye to his friends and walks out with Y/N. They put their dishes away, and then he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“This is okay, right? I’m not being too pushy?”

“No, I…I want you to come over.”

“Okay.” He smiles and they both walk a little faster to the student apartments.

Y/N nervously keys inside and they both run up to her room. She slams it closed and locks it, and the next thing she knows she’s being pinned up against it. Harry presses his front to hers, and groans into their kiss.

“Is this okay?” He breathes before moving to suck on her neck.

“Yes.” Her hands move to undo his pants. “Is this?”

“Yes.” He steps back to take his shirt off and wiggle out of his pants.

He grabs her and his hands slide to her ass to unzip the back of her skirt. It falls to the ground, pooling at her feet. He lifts her shirt overhead, and quickly unhooks her bra.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He leads her over to her bed, and lays her down. His fingers hook into her panties and he slides them down her legs. He licks his lips when he’s presented with her center. “You don’t mind if I have a little dessert, do you?”

“Please, indulge.” She leans up on her elbows to watch as he dives right in. “Oh, fuck.” Her head rolls back, and her hands rake through his hair.

He licks her up and down and moves his face from side to side. He sucks on her clit, and slides his middle finger inside her. She winces for a moment, and he pops off her to look at her.

“Are you still sore?”

“Um…only a little…but I really want you to keep going.”

“I don’t wanna do it if it’s gonna hurt.”

“Please, Harry? I really want you to fuck me again.”

“I just wish I had some lube or something to help soothe you…we’ll have to buy some.” He says more so to himself than to her before licking over her clit again. He does the next best thing, and just wells up some spit and lets it fall from his tongue to her center. She whimpers and he looks up at her. “Like that?”

“Yeah…it was sort of sexy…”

He does it again and then slides his middle finger back inside her. He’s able to get a second finger in, and he curls them both up against that spongey spot of her front wall. He uses his other thumb to rub around her clit. He looks up at her and can’t help but smirk when he sees her head rolled back into the pillow.

“Can tell you’re close, love, you gonna come for me?”

“Shit, oh my god, yes!” She cries out. His words put her over the edge and she comes around his fingers. He goes over to his backpack to grab a condom, and takes his boxers off so he can roll it on. He gets back on the bed between her legs.

 “You know, I never asked, are you on the pill or anything? I don’t mind using condoms, I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, I’m on the pill.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and smiles.

He hums his response and lines himself up with her. He starts to push inside, but he stops.

“Why’d you stop?” She pouts.

“Just wanted to make sure you still wanted to.”

“I do! Please, just keep going.”

He nods and slowly pushes inside her. He grunts once he’s all the way in, and stays there a moment before pulling out and pushing back in. Her mouth falls open from the pleasure.

“That feels really good.” She says, pressing kisses to chest.

“Yeah? Like it like this, babe?”

“Mhm.”

He continues to carefully thrust in and out of her. She bites her bottom lip, and decides to let him know how she’s feeling.

“Could we…could I…um…”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“What if I got on top?”

“You sure you wanna try that now? When’s your class?”

She looks off to her clock.

“I’ve got thirty minutes, plenty of time.”

“Alright.” He pulls out and switches spots with her. He sits up against the wall and waits for her. She gives him a funny look. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to lay down?”

“Not necessarily, I wanna help you, just come here.”

She crawls into his lap, and lines herself up with him. They both look down as she slowly sinks down on him. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment to get used to it. He helps her wraps her legs around his waist, and his hands grip her ass. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and he slowly thrusts up into her. Her eyes snap open when she feels how deep he’s able to go.

“Oh my god.” She looks at him. “Do that again.”

He slots his lips over hers and gets a rhythm going. She does her best to move along with him, but she doesn’t mind that he’s doing a lot of the work. She sucks his bottom between her teeth before moving to nibble on his earlobe.

“Harry.” She whines.

“Feels good?”

“Feels so good.” She bites down right on the crook of his neck and he groans.

His hands grip harder on her ass he moves her a little faster. Her clit was rubbing against him in the most perfect way, and she could feel another release approaching. She grips at his hair and tugs hard as she cries out into his chest. He spills into the condom as she comes down from her high. They both take a minute to sit there. He holds her close to him and rubs her back. He kisses her temple and then moves to her now puffy lips. He gives her a soft smile when he sees her mascara had run a bit. He uses his thumbs to help clean up under eyes, and it makes her giggle.

“I’ll just use a makeup wipe.” She pecks at his lips and slowly gets off him. “Blegh, I don’t like the way that feels at all.”

“It’s cause you’re so sensitive, babe.” He gets up and rids himself of the condom, putting his boxers and other clothes back on. He watches as she grabs a towel to wrap around herself.

“Mm, right, I forgot you were a sexologist.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just gonna pee, I’ll be right back.”

She’s back in a couple minutes and he watches her rifle through her workout clothes. She settles on a pair of cropped leggings, a sports bra, and a t-shirt. She flips her hair over and puts it up in a messy bun, and then grabs a makeup up wipe to get everything off. She sits down next to him to lace up her sneakers.

“I’m not a sexologist.” He mumbles.

“I know, I was being sarcastic.” She smirks.

“I’m aware.” He sits back on her bed and she looks at him. “I did take a women’s health class last year, though, and we talked about things that can happen after sex, so that’s the only reason why I know that.”

“Why in the fuck did you take a women’s health class, Harry?” She nearly laughs.

“I don’t know, my mum said it would be a good idea…and it counted towards one of my gen eds. I actually learned a lot. You ladies, uh, have a lot to deal with.”

“Were there other boys in the class?”

“A couple. I mostly kept to myself, I didn’t want anyone thinking I was there just to meet girls or anything.”

“Tell me, what else did you learn?” She was intrigued now.

“Basically everything that goes on with your body from birth to death.”

“Is that how you learned to be so go in bed?” She blushes.

“No, but please, keep inflating my ego.” He grins. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Good, I may refrain from doing squats because my legs feel like jelly, but other than that, no complaints.” She leans back to kiss his cheek. “I have time to get it together during class anyways.” She looks over at her click. “Which I need to get to now.”

She stands up and so does he. He wraps his arms around her from behind and gives a squeeze before letting her go. As she walked to class she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She could definitely get used to having a boyfriend.

//

Things went on like this for a few a weeks. Harry and Y/N would meet up when they could for homework dates, keeping their actual tutoring sessions at the library so no funny business would happen. When they were alone, it was on just about every time. He tried to livestream her away games, and he was at every single one of her home games. When she gave him one of her jerseys from the previous year to wear, he tackled her and showered her with kisses. He wears it to all her home games now.

“You don’t have a game Saturday night, right?” He asks her one evening while doing homework.

“Nope, just during the afternoon, why?”

“There’s going to be free skate Saturday night, would you wanna go? I sort of have to be there for senate. I’ll understand if you won’t feel like it.”

“No! That sounds like fun. I never get to skate just for the hell of it. What time does it start? My, um, mom is coming to the game Saturday and she’s going to want to get dinner afterwards.”

“It starts at eight, and you’re mum’s coming?”

“Mhm.”

“Will I get to meet her?”

“Do you want to?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I think I should, you’re my girlfriend after all. Does she know about me?”

“Of course she does! I told her a week or so after we made things official. She’s going to sit in the parent’s section most likely…”

“I don’t mind not sitting with the usual people I go with. It would give me some time to chat with her if I sit with her. I wanna make a good impression.”

“You’re so sweet.” She smiles.

“Your siblings aren’t coming?”

“Nah, they’ll hang back to watch the bar.”

“Cool, well, I’m excited. What have you told her about me?”

“I told her how smart you are and how we met because you’re tutoring me.” She shuffles his papers and laptop away to crawl into his lap. “And I told her how sweet you are, and how you always walk me home when it’s late, and stuff like that.”

“Oh.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“And I told her about your major, and how you’re on senate, and that you’re an all-around good person. I sent her a picture of you and she agreed that you’re very cute.”

Harry can’t help but smile while he presses his lips to hers.

“The tattoos didn’t throw her off?”

“Not at all.” She scoffs. “My mom is pretty chill for the most part. She just wants me to be happy, and I am, so it’s no skin off her nose.”

“I told my mum about you too, you know. I told about how nice you are and how passionate you are about hockey, and how bright you are.”

“Oh, stop.”

“I mean it! I really admire you, Y/N. It takes a lot of work to balance being a student-athlete.”

“Thanks, Har.” She pecks his lips and nuzzles into his neck.

//

On Saturday, Harry explains to his friends that he’ll be sitting on the parent side of the arena to meet Y/N’s mom. He has the jersey that Y/N gave him on, so he wasn’t hard to find. He feels a tap on his shoulder just as he’s getting some ketchup onto his hotdog. He turns around and looks down to see a woman who sort of looked like Y/N.

“Hi, are you Harry? I could only assume since you’re wearing a jersey with my daughter’s name on it.”

“Yeah! Hi, are you Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Mhm, please, just call me Angie.” She gives Harry a gentle hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N told me so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. Did you want anything from concessions before we go in?”

“Oh, no, I’m all set, but thank you.” She smiles. “I’m so excited, this is the first game I’ve been able to get to all season. I heard you’ve been to every single one.”

“It’s important to support the women’s teams just as much as the men’s.”

“Well, I know how much it means to Y/N, so thank you.”

He follows her into the arena and they sit in a row a few up from the glass. Harry finishes his hotdog and tosses his trash into a nearby bin. Everything goes dark, and lights start flashing. The crowd cheers for both teams as they come onto the ice. Harry cheers and claps for Y/N, and so does her mother.

Y/N assists a goal, and the crowd goes wild. Later on she’s sent to the penalty box for knocking someone over, to which she argued with the ref about, to which Harry had to fight the blood rushing to his dick watching her get fired up. She sits there for the two minutes, and gets back on the ice. Harry chats with Y/N’s mom between periods, and the girls end up winning 3-1. It was a good game.

“I’m glad it’s over, I was really starting to get cold.” She chuckles as they go out to the lobby. “I was planning to take Y/N for a bite to eat once she’s done, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna impose on your alone time…”

“Don’t be silly! You’re welcome to join, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Thanks, yeah, if she’s cool with it I’d be happy to join.”

Twenty or so minutes go by before Y/N emerges in the lobby. She had some ice wrapped around her shoulder, and a huge smile on her face when she sees her mom.

“Mum!” She runs over to her and they hug.

“Hi, sweetie.” She kisses her cheek. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“Nothing, the trainer just wanted it wrapped up.” She shrugs and goes over to hug Harry.

“Great game.” He says.

“Thanks.” She smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you wanna join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Perfect, how does Chinese sound?” Her mom asks.

“Works for me.” Y/N says.

“Sounds good.” Harry says.

“Harry, I’ll need to go ready at my place before free skate. Ashley’s having a…get together tonight.”

“That’s fine, I’ll wanna change to.”

They tell each other as they climb into Angie’s car. She laughs to herself and shakes her head at Y/N.

“What?”

“You can just say you’re going to a party. You just won a game, of course you guys are gonna celebrate tonight.” She nudges her.

The three enjoy a nice Chinese buffet. Angie is able to get to know Harry a little more, and Y/N eats it up. Harry knew how to speak with adults since he had to do it often for student senate. He was definitely making a good impression.

“Want to just drop you off at your apartment, honey?”

“That’d be great mom, thanks.”

Angie gets out of the car to give Y/N a big hug and kiss goodbye, and she gives Harry a hug as well. Y/N keys into her apartment, and brings Harry upstairs with her.

“It shouldn’t take me too long, and then we can go to your place.”

“Take your time, we don’t need to be the first people there.” He says, settling to lounge on her bed.

He watches as she picks out a pair of ripped mom jeans and a long sleeve white crop top. She heard him laugh and she turns her head.

“What?”

“What’s the point of that having sleeves if half your stomach isn’t covered?”

“It’s going to be cold on the ice, and hot at Ashley’s. I’m just trying to help myself out for both scenarios.” She takes her hair out of its messy bun and shakes it out. She runs her straightener through it quickly, and then changes. She puts a little makeup on and looks at Harry. “Well?”

“Look good enough to eat, babe.”

“Don’t start.” She giggles. “Let’s go, you take longer than me to change.”

“I do not.” He says with fake offense.

“Yes, you do.” She boops his nose and tugs him out of her room.

“We’re going to free skate tonight, and then we’ll come to Ashley’s.” She says to Amanda, peeping her head into her room.

“Okay, we’ll see you later, have fun!”

Y/N and Harry make their way to his apartment, and head up to his room. He puts his contacts in, and peels his jersey and undershirt off. He finds a short-sleeve button up in his closet and throws that on with some jeans. He finds a jacket to wear over it and puts his beanie back on.

“Alright, ready?”

“Mhm.”

They make their way to the ice arena and get their skates. There was a small line which Harry was happy to see. He watches as Y/N nimbly laces up her skates, and she looks at him.

“Do you want some help with those?” She asks.

“Would you mind? I feel like I can never get them tight enough.”

“The trick is tug them down here first.” She kneels in front of him and it makes him blush to see her basically on her knees before him. “See? Feel the difference?” She looks up at him innocently.

“Um, yeah.” He swallows and she ties up his other skate. “Thanks.”

“No worries.”

She helps him up and they make their way onto the ice. There was a good amount of people skating, and there was music playing. Harry looks over to see his friends from senate.

“Hold my hand?” He asks and she giggles, taking it without question. They both gently glide their way over. “Nice turn out, huh?” He says to Andrew and Billy.

“Yeah! Awesome Weekends really pulled it together.” Billy says.

“I think the free cocoa and popcorn was nice a touch.” Andrew points over to small station off to the side of the arena. “Hi, Y/N, that was a great game earlier.”

“Oh! Thanks.” She smiles.

“I thought your penalty was bullshit, that girl nudged you first.” Billy says.

“That’s what I said! This is why they should just let us fight each other, it’s so annoying.”

“Where’s Ari?” Harry asks, looking around.

“Ah! She’s here with Scott Paxton.” Andrew points to the other end of the rink. “My jaw dropped when I saw her walk in with him.”

“Oh good, I’m glad she’s got a date.” Harry says relieved.

“Well, are we going to stand around, or are we skating?” Y/N asks.

“Aren’t you tired?” Billy asks.

“Not at all! I never get to just fuck around on the ice.”

She starts skating backwards to the beat of the song that’s playing, and Harry glides towards her, taking her hands in his.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Skate backwards.”

“Oh! It’s easy!” She frees her hands from him and skates around him so she’s behind him, hands on his hips. “It’s just like skating forwards, only backwards.”

“You’d be a horrible tutor, Y/N.” Harry chuckles.

“Shut up! You’ll see what I’m saying, just move with me, I’ve got you.”

He looks over his shoulder so he can see what they’re doing, and he watches as she moves her legs and he tries to do the same.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it.”

“Just don’t let go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Y/N ends up skating around a bit while Harry talks with some of the student senate people towards the end of the event, but all in all they had a great time together. She helps him get his skates off, and he sighs with relief.

“I don’t know how you wear these all the time.” He says he gets his boots back on.

“You just get used to it.” She shrugs and stands up. “Ready to go have some more fun?”

“Mhm.” He takes her hand as they walk out of the arena, and towards Ashley’s apartment. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! It was great.”

“It was like being on a little date, huh?”

“Mhm.” She smiles up at him. “You looked cute skating.”

“Did I? Thought I looked like an idiot.”

“Oh stop, you’re decent enough for someone who doesn’t skate every day of their life.”

“Last year I took one of those one credit courses so I could take a skating lesson. That’s the only reason I didn’t fall flat on my ass.” This makes Y/N laugh and loop her arm through Harry’s to keep him close. “I liked the way you hung onto me to show me some stuff.”

“See, I ended up being a pretty decent teacher after all. Our methods are just different.”

They get to Ashley’s and head right in. She tells them they can leave their jackets in the hall closet if they want, and then head into the kitchen. Y/N was allowed to have whatever alcohol she wanted, and by proxy, so could Harry. He makes them up some vodka cranberries, and they both head downstairs to join a game of beer pong.

Y/N goes off to hang out with her friends, and Harry does the same, knowing a few people at the house. She does some shots with them and makes her way back over to Harry, tugging him away to come dance with her. She grinds her ass against his pelvis, and his hands press into her hips. She loved that Harry wasn’t one of those guys that was too scared to dance. It made going to parties with him so much more fun. After a couple of songs, she can feel how incredibly hard he is against her.

“Yours or mine tonight?” He asks as he nips at her neck. Her arm hooks up around him so she can tug at his hair. Her head falls back to his shoulder.

“Yours, want the bigger bed.”

“Yeah? Wanna have a little more room, babe?”

“Mhm.” She nearly whines.

“You ‘bout ready to go?”

“Yeah, take me home, baby.” She pouts at him.

He lets her walk in front of him to hide his boner as they grab their jackets. He gives her a piggy-back ride back to his place, and he gets her inside, up the stairs, and into his room. They both kick off their shoes, and once their jackets are off, she’s on him. Her tongue licks its way into his mouth and he happily sucks on it, loving the way he could taste the cranberry juice from her mixer.

Her hands slide down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, and then she tugs at his belt. His hands grope her ass and then her breasts before pulling her shirt off. He places needy kisses down her chest before getting her bra off, and tackling her onto the bed. She giggles as she gets a little more comfortable.

“Want me to suck on it first, Harry?”

“Please.” He flops next to her and she straddles him. She kisses down his chest and undoes his pants. She tugs his hard cock out and puts her mouth right on him.

He bucks his hips up slightly as she pumps what she can’t fit. She tugs his pants and boxers down further so she can grip onto his thighs. His hands rake through her hair to keep it back for her.

“So fucking good, Y/N.” He bites his bottom lip as he watches her bob her head up and down. She moans around him as a response, and he nearly loses it. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that, and I’d like to fuck you, so.” He pulls her head off him, and his mouth falls open when he sees the string of spit between his tip and her bottom lip. “Christ.” He yanks her up to him and crashes their mouths together.

He bites and sucks on her bottom lip, and she rolls her hips down on him. He winces, not liking the way her jeans feel against his bare dick. He gets her on her back to get her pants off. Once they’re both naked, he hovers over her so he can kiss her lips again, sliding his fingers between her folds. She gasps when she feels two fingers slide inside her. He twists and curls them and it has her moving her hips along the same way. He watches her face and love the way she makes eye contact with him.

“You like that, babe?” He asks.

“Yes, fuck, don’t stop.” She pleads with him as if he would ever be so mean to tease her and pull his fingers away. He’d give her anything she wanted, she never needed to beg.

He kisses on her neck while his thumb rubs against her clit. She scratches at his shoulders, and she moans out his name. He takes his fingers away and kisses her before reaching for a condom.

“Har?”

“Yeah?” He asks as he rolls it on.

“Would you bend me over the bed?”

“Y/N, if you’re fucking with me I’m gonna be super pissed.” He glares at her.

“I’m not! I mean it, please! I like when we do it from behind, I just wanna try it this way.”

“Alright, get up.” He helps her off the bed, and then she bends over in front of him, propping herself up on her elbows. She wiggles her bottom at him, and he gives her a little smack, making her giggle. “Ready?”

“Mhm, give it to me.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside. She moans out lowly. He starts out by gripping her hips, rocking in and out of her. He wanted to ease her into it.

“I can handle more, Harry, it’s okay.”

“Want it harder, baby?”

“Please.”

He pulls out almost all the way and slams back inside her. Her mouth falls open, and she grips the blankets as he does it over and over. He has to grip onto the back of her neck to keep her in place once he gets an even pace going. All she could hear was his skin slapping against hers. His other hand slips around to rub on her clit and she backs up against him.

“Think you can fuck yourself on my cock while I rub on you?”

“I can try…” She was so fucking wet just from hearing him say that. She moves forward and back, on and off his cock while he rubs on her clit.

“That’s it, babe, use me.”

“Jesus, Harry.” She groans, and bites her bottom lip so she could concentrate. “Oh my god.”

He presses further into her while she backed up on him. She loses it then. He has to move one of his hands over her mouth to muffle her screams. He spills into the condom, the feeling of her squeezing around him did him in. He kisses the backs of her shoulders before pulling out and getting rid of the condom. She collapses onto the bed.

“Alright?” He rubs her back and helps her the rest of the way up.

“Yeah, that was just…wow.” She looks up at him. “I need to pee.”

She looks around and finds her jersey that he was wearing earlier. She was much more comfortable going by herself now, so she waddles out of his room. He can’t help but grow hard again. She just looked so sexy only in her jersey. She comes back in looking freshly fucked and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Nothing…um…” His face was flushed and her eyes flick down to his hard cock and back to his eyes.

“Are you already hard again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She chuckles.

“You look so fucking hot like that. I can wait if you don’t wanna go again so soon.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Come sit on me, bounce up and down?”

“Okay.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m still pretty wet, see?” She lifts the bottom of her jersey so he could see. “Even with going to the bathroom, I just couldn’t help but think about how good it felt.”

“You’re soaked.”

“Mhm.”

“Get over here.” He leans over to his desk and grabs a condom, but she takes it from him. “What are you doing?”

“Do you…I don’t know…maybe not want to use one?”

“That’s how accidents happen.”

“I’m on the pill, I never miss one. I have them with me so I can take it in the morning like I usually do. You could come on my stomach of you feel more comfortable with that. I just wanna feel you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She goes to take the jersey off but he shakes his head no. “Leave it on.” He says lowly.

She crawls onto his lap and sinks down on him. He lays back and lets her go to work. She moves around in a circle at first and then starts to move up and down. His hands grips her hips and then smooth over the globes of her ass.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this, you have no idea.”

“You feel so good, Harry.” She throws her head back as she bounces up and down on him.

“Shit, so do you.”

He wasn’t going to last long, but he wanted to make sure she got hers before he did, so he lifts the jersey a little to rub her sensitive clit.

“Harry!” She gasps and claws down his chest with her nails. “Shit, oh my god!” She comes around him much sooner than she thought.

He pulls her off him, and press her front into the mattress. He lifts the jersey up so he can come on her ass and back. He sighs with relief once he’s done.

“Let me get a towel, babe, one second.” He slides his boxers on and rummages in his closet. Once he finds a spare towel he leaves the room. She was confused but when he comes back she feels warm water on her. He flips her over and wipes between her legs. Her eyes grow wide. He had never done that before. He looks at her and blushes. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“No! I just…you’re just always a gentleman, Harry.” She chuckles.

He tosses the towel into his hamper and practically rips the jersey off her so they could lay skin to skin. He pecks kisses to her lips and chest and rubs her back as they settle in. He pulls the blankets up over them and they both sigh.

“I like your bed so much better than mine.” She nuzzles into his chest. “So cozy.”

“Your bed is cozy too.”

“Yeah, but we have way less room, and as much as I love you, we both get too sweaty in my dinky bed.” She didn’t realize what she said until she feels his body stiffen under hers. She props herself up to look down at him. “I mean, I just meant, um-“ He cups one of her cheeks.

“Don’t you dare try to take it back.”

“It just slipped out…I-“

“Stop.” He shakes his head. “You love me?”

“Harry, I…yeah, I do, I love you.” He pulls her face down to his so he can kiss her.

“I love you, too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She smiles. “Well, this is nice for us.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “It’s very nice.” She starts laughing too. “What is it?” He asks as he turns them both over so he can spoon her.

“Nothing, I’m just really fucking glad I had no idea how the brain functioned so I could get you as a tutor.”

[aerynwrites]

December Challenge: Day 2 - Frozen Lake w/ Captain Rex

A/N: It’s finally here! And here is my first prompt/day. TBH I’m still struggling alot with writing and I feel like you can tell in this piece but I hope you all enjoy anyways! Happy writing to those of you who are participating in this challenge as well!

Word Count: 936

Warnings: none

What is the December Challenge 2021?

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck as you lead Rex through the shin high snowdrifts, a smile tugging at your lips as mumbles words of confusion keep leaving his lips.

“Remind me again why you are dragging me through the snow in the middle of a mission?”

A small laugh erupts from your throat and forms a small cloud in front of your face, you turn to look at the clone Captain. “Because I wanted to show you something,” you say vaguely, “And technically, we’re not on a mission. We don’t have anything for the next few days until the snow starts to melt.”

Rex rolls his eyes, but still manages to send you a playful smile. “Well, as long as whatever you have planned is worth it..”

“It is,” you promise as you finally arrive at your destination, “We’re here!” you announce as you break through the tree line, revealing a small lake that has frozen over with a thick layer of ice.

The Captain is silent for several moments, and you look over to see a confused frown on his face. “Errr...Where exactly are we?”

You giggle and set your backpack down before leaning over to rummage through it, searching for the items that will complete your plans. “It’s a frozen pond, Rex. We’re gonna go ice skating.”

Rex looks down at you now, golden eyes wide as he shakes his head. “We’re going to what?” he asks, bewildered, lacing his words.

You just stand up and smile, handing him a pair of ice blades that will attach to the bottom of your boots. “It will be fun!” you assure him, reaching out to take his gloved hand in your own, “Please? We never get to do many things on our own that don't relate to the war. I just figured…” you trail off, suddenly unsure if this was even a good idea. “I just saw the lake on patrol one day and got the idea after remembering one of those cheesy holovideos I watch. I thought it would be fun - learning how to do it together, you know?”

At your explanation, Rex’s eyes soften as he glances down to the blades in his other hand before looking back to you. He sends you a small smile before tugging you closer to place a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away and gesturing to your boots. 

“We’ll have to help each other get these blades on.”

A wide smile crosses your face at his words and you give a little hop of excitement. “This is going to be so fun!”

------

This is definitely not as fun as you anticipated. 

As usual, Rex took to the task like a fish to water. He took to every task easily - that’s part of being an enhanced clone, you suppose. You, on the other hand, could not figure out how to keep your feet underneath you to save your kriffing life. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve fallen over and landed on the frozen surface, and it would have been a lot more had Rex not been there to catch you the many times he had. 

You grumble under your breath, as you stand once more, legs wobbling as you try to stay upright. Rex has taken to skating much better than you have. He got the hang of it immediately while you were still struggling to even stay standing on the ice, much less actually more around. You suppose that’s one of the perks of being a genetically enhanced clone - they were pretty much good at everything. 

“Whose idea was this again?” You mumble, before letting out a small yelp as you slide again, only staying up because Rex has a firm grip around your waist.

“If I remember correctly, it was yours,” Rex laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners with he action. 

You huff, but can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. “Yeah well, this is much harder than it looked. Plus, you make it look so easy! I don’t understand why I can't just - woah!”

You don’t get to finish your thought, because a rather large chunk of ice gets caught under your skate and causes you to go off balance once more. Instinctively you latch onto Rex’s coat, and before you know it, you’re both tumbling down to the Icy surface. 

Somehow Rex manages to take the brunt of the fall, letting out a surprised ‘oof’, as you land on top of him. You lean up only slightly once you’ve gathered yourself and look down at Rex, your nose brushing softly as you send him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you murmur, “Didn’t mean to take you down with me.”

Rex just shakes his head and sends you a smile, silently telling you not to worry about it before he swiftly removes one of his gloves before reaching up to cup your cheek. His hand is cold, but not an unwelcome feeling against your now heated cheek as he looks up at you with eyes full of adoration. 

“Thank you for this,” he whispers, thumb tracing soothingly over your cheekbone, “i can’t remember the last time it was just us.”

You smile, “Thank you for catching me and sticking with my horrible skating,” you tease lightly before falling a bit more serious. “I love you Rex.”

The clone Captain smiles back, “I love you more.”

And then, tangled up on the frozen lake as snowflakes start to fall, Rex brings his lips to yours. Then, for a brief, quiet moment…Everything is perfect.

[xmint-conditionx]

tongue tied | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader, f2l

w/c: 3.5k

summary: you've been best friends with yoongi for almost a decade, and you're hopelessly in love with him. he's the most important person in your life, and you don't want to mess that up, so you can never be anything more... right?

written as a response to a request from the old blog -- the requestor was @yoongi--enthusiast; thanks again for your request, i loved doing it!!! "I had an idea... something based off of the song “tongue tied” with yoongi. I feel like it would be super soft with soft smut... I just think it would be nice to read so can you please wright it 🥺👉👈"

tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, outdoor sex, overall a little angsty but super cute too

a/n: i did not know that there was a song called tongue tied by marshmello before i wrote this so... i hope the person who requested this didn’t mean that song because I wrote this drabble over the grouplove song lmaooo but anyway, here goes! thanks luv, enjoy! also reposted from the old blog!!

Yoongi’s laugh is so beautiful. It’s rare, so when you see it, you soak up everything you can about it. The way his eyes crinkle up into crescent moons, the way his lips curl back putting his gummy smile on bright display. You can swear you see his eyes sparkle.

You are in love with him. You are in love with your best friend.

He makes loving him such an easy thing to do; bringing you into his inner world, showing you the sweet and warm center he conceals from everyone else. The way he looks at you, the way he says your name, the way he pouts when he wants a back scratch, all of those little things that make him who he is only deepen your infatuation with him.

You’re with him again this Friday night, making the drive to Bom’s house. It’s been a long week for the both of you; he’s been wrapped up in producing a track and you’ve been nose deep in college textbooks. His track is completed, and your exams are over. It’s safe to say that you both could use a good break.

It’s the end of the spring semester and the weather is going to be gorgeous tonight. The racing summer breeze coming through the open car windows is exhilarating. The sun is setting, and the warm evening light on Yoongi’s dewy skin makes him appear absolutely radiant as he navigates the highway.

You’re just listening to fun little summer jams as you speed off toward the city’s suburbs. Ones with funky little basslines that are easy to groove and sing along to. Ones that make you shout and laugh into the rushing wind. Ones that make you drink in the moment you’re having with Yoongi; ones that make you soak up all of his joy.

And when he steals a sly look your way, one hand still on the top of the steering wheel, you can swear your heart stops.

You’ve loved him as long as you can remember really knowing him. Since you were both 12, bonding over games of tag and basketball and the spilling of secrets to each other. You’d sit beneath the big tree in his backyard and share the snacks you’d bought at the corner store. He’d always let you have the last chocolate.

The only secret you’ve ever kept from Yoongi is the matter of your infatuation, and you are pretty resolute in keeping it that way.

He is the single most important person in your life. He had been there with you through it all; when your parents split up at 13, when your dad got you your first car at 15, when your long time boyfriend cheated on you at 16, when your dream college denied you at 17, when you got a full ride scholarship to a smaller university outside of the city right after that, when you were drugged at a house party at 20, when you were diagnosed with depression at 21, and when you were accepted into your masters program at 22.

You needed him, and because of that, you could never tell him.

You pull into the gates that surround Bom’s neighborhood. Her parents are pretty wealthy, so they live on a golf course. As you pull up into the driveway, you see some other students milling about, catching Frisbee. There’s Eunha, Ireum, Ji-Ah, and Miyeun that you recognize from some of your classes, but there are a few more that you’ve never met.

After a few rounds of drinks and a few lost games of flip cup, you all head outside to the back patio with all of your schoolwork from the year. Bom turns on the bluetooth speaker and sets it on the railing. You take in the night air and gaze up at the sky, wishing there was a shooting star to wish upon.

“Alright, everyone,” Bom begins, “essays and lab reports first, then tests, then miscellaneous homework.” Yoongi helps you dig through your stack to fish out the cursed papers. You all toss the stapled packages into the fire pit, one by one, each hitting with a soft thud. Once everyone has thrown their woes into the pit, Bom tops it with actual firewood and unceremoniously sets the whole lot of it on fire. You gaze into the center of the flame, watching your entire year catch fire. All the hours you spent doing that research project, all the disappointment when your group members wouldn’t follow through. Gone, like it never existed.

Yoongi’s holding your hand in his, and he’s busy drawing little circles with his thumb on your palm. Your head rests soundly on his shoulder, and you sigh into him, comfortable in where you are. The whole group piles in more papers, as you lament about the shitty professors and the shitty group projects and the shitty caf’ food and the shitty grades. Yoongi turns into you and nuzzles gently on your forehead. You feel his soft lips graze your temple, breath warm on your skin, tingles rising through your body, and you’re right where you want to be. Under the moon’s gaze with the person you love.

Before long, the breeze sends a chill through you that even the fire won’t remedy. Yoongi feels your shiver and unceremoniously removes his hoodie and puts it on over you, pulling up the hood and kissing your forehead. You always love when you wear his jackets; they surround you in his warmth, his smell. A smile plays across your lips until you notice Yoongi’s goosebumps.

“Hey,” you pout, “I don't wanna wear this if you’re gonna be cold.”

“I don’t wanna wear it if you’re gonna be cold,” he snaps back, smiling.

“Here,” you say, standing up from your deck chair. You take the step to get you to Yoongi’s chair, and sit in his lap. “This way we can both be warm, yeah?”

It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms firmly around you again, mumbling a “yeah, that’s fine” when you glance at him over your shoulder.

Your attention is called back to the group with Bom asks if you’re going to the Summer Romance Festival by the river next weekend. She’s been pushing you to get yourself out there more. The last time you were in a real relationship was high school, after all.

“I’d love to go; I hear they have the most beautiful fireworks display,” you start, “but I don’t think I will this year.”

“Well,” Bom says, “Why not?!”

“Because I don’t have a date, Bom!” you say, covering your face in the sweater paws you’ve made from Yoongi’s hoodie. “I don’t think I could find one in enough time.”

“Ya, just get Yoongi to go with you! You already do everything together anyway,” Eunha quips.

You notice that the steady rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest has stopped.

“Hey, you know we’re just friends, right Yoongi?” you look to him for backup.

The man nods, looking down and to the left.

“Okay,” Ireum speaks up, “In that case, do you want to go with me?”

“Wait, what?” you say.

“Do you want to go to the Summer Romance Festival with me? As a date?”

Yoongi tenses beneath you.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you breathe, “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. We can even get dinner before we go. Not too much, though. I’ll want to get us a treat from one of the dessert stalls.” Ireum says with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling back at him, “Okay. We’ll go together.”

Yoongi stirs beneath you. “Hey, can you get off of me?”

“What, why?” you pout.

“I said get off.”

“Yoongi, wh--”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish before he abruptly stands up, forcing you to catch yourself. When you look back at him, he’s walking toward the French doors that lead back into the house.

“Ya! What was that about?”

He keeps walking. You storm after him and slam the door, trapping you both inside.

“Yoongi, I’m talking to you! What’s your fucking problem?”

He whirs around.

“Oh, I have a problem?”

“Well, it sure seems like it.” you spit back, hands on your hips.

“Why don’t you go talk about it with your date, huh?” he says, gesturing out the window to Ireum. “Don’t you have some details to work out? He gonna pick you up? You gonna let him hold your hand? On your nice little extra special romantic date? I guess I’ll just fuck right off and leave you two alone, yeah? That’s what you want, cause we’re just friends and all.”

“Yoongi, we… are friends! You’re my best friend!”

“Did you ever for a second think that I could want more?”

“What?!”

“I fucking love you, Y/N! Isn’t it obvious?! I’ve loved you since the 7th grade. You remember when we played spin the bottle at Ha-joon’s house? Do you remember when you kissed me?”

“Yoongi…”

“No, let me finish. Do you remember the frat party we crashed junior year? Remember when we got up onto the roof and made out until we fell asleep? And then you weren't there when I woke up so I walked back to my dorm and then we just pretended it never happened? What the fuck was that, Y/N?!”

You reach for his arm, but he backs up, flinching away from you.

“I am so in love with you it hurts!”

“Yoongi.”

“But I guess if that guy can make you happy, then whatever,” he sighs.

“Yoongi.”

“Go on your little date and have fun and I’ll just go write some more goddamn songs about you--”

“Yoongi!”

He stills, pain flashing through his eyes.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, easing toward him, “I had no idea. I left the roof to go inside and get you some water. When I came back, you were gone. You had been drinking a lot that night… and I felt really bad because… I thought I had taken advantage of you… Ever since I first kissed you at Ha-joon’s house, I wanted to do it again. And again. And, you looked so good that night and up on the roof when you were laughing about the quarterback I just… I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I thought surely you didn’t want to actually be kissing me.”

“Why the fuck would I have kissed you back, then?”

“You were drunk, and I--” you’re cut off when he grabs your wrist.“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you since you first kissed me,” he says, glancing down at your lips. ”I want to kiss you right now.”

You take no time in closing the distance between the two of you, your lips crashing desperately. You’ve tasted his kiss before, but this time feels different. His hands are winding through your hair, pulling you deeper into his kiss. You moan against his mouth, and he responds with his tongue teasing your lips, asking for entry. You grant it, and he explores. One of his hands holds your jaw, the other still intertwined with your hair. His tongue runs along your bottom lip before he sucks it in, drawing out a small whimper from you. Taking his hand from your jaw, he runs it down your neck and décolleté and then down over your stomach and latches it on your hip, sinking his fingers into your skin. He gives your hair a small tug, just enough to break the kiss and expose your neck. He breaks off and trails kisses up your jawline and then onto your neck, speaking in between kisses.

“You have… no idea how… much I’ve… wanted to tell… you everything,” he breathes onto your neck, and you feel a heat pooling in your panties.

“Please, Yoongi…” you say as you begin to run one hand under his shirt. He stops kissing and looks up at you with the softest expression.

“What is it?” he asks as he grabs both of your hands in his, bringing one of them up to his mouth to sprinkle kisses along your fingers.

“You…” you begin and sigh, “you have no idea how much I want you.”

He stills.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I’m sorry, I just…” he trails off, eyes getting lost in the way his jacket is draped on your figure.

Him eyeing you up doesn’t make it any better.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” you say, eyes pleading up at him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

After a beat, he sighs.

“Neither of us are waiting another minute,” he says, landing a quick peck on your lips and going across the room to the couch, grabbing the throw blanket that rests on the arm.

“Come on, I have an idea,” he says, grabbing your arm and leading you out of the front door, across the street, through someone’s back yard until you reach the top of a hill on the side of a fairway. You watch as he scans the area, holding the blanket tight. His gaze lingers on two hills near the green of whatever hole this is, where there are a few more trees and hills to block you from the sightline of those second story windows. He looks at you, eyes asking the question. You smile and nod, and that’s all he needs.

He tugs your hand and you both go running down the fairway, laughing along the way. Once you reach your spot, he quickly puts down the blanket and lays on it. You’re still standing at his feet, hands fiddling with the ends of the jacket sleeves.

He smiles up at you and holds his arms up in your direction and says, “come here, beautiful,” while doing little grabby hands.

You slowly walk up to where he’s laying and sit on top of his hips, feeling how hard he already is. His hand rests on your hip underneath the fabric of his jacket, the other holding the side of your face.

“Let me see you,” he says with a tinge of whine in his voice, and that gives you an idea.

You reach under the still zipped jacket and fiddle around. Yoongi looks up at you befuddled, the corners of his lips turning down slightly as he tries to figure out what’s going on. When your hands emerge, one is holding your strapless bra and the other is holding the halter top you had been wearing. You can’t believe you managed to unzip the back by yourself.

You throw the garments to the side, and watch as understanding hits his face. His eyes glaze over and he licks his lips, clearly shaken up by your little trick.

He carefully dips his fingers below the waistband of your shorts and eases them down. You put your weight on him and give him a few kisses as he continues to move them down your legs. Once they too have been tossed to the side, you sit back up, lips red and swollen from the kiss.

He gently reaches up to the zipper of the jacket and begins to slowly pull it down, letting the cool night air in. You feel your nipples harden at the exposure to both the night air and Yoongi’s hungry eyes. He swallows and licks his lips as he runs his eyes over every new inch of you that is revealed. Memorizing your form, your perked nipples, the way your chest rises with each anxious breath.

He reaches back up to the collar and eases one shoulder of fabric off. You move to take the rest off despite the cold, but he stills your hand with his.

“Keep it on, please. I love seeing you wear my clothes,” Yoongi says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing them against his knuckles as you slowly grind your still covered core on his length. He groans in frustration, his pants getting tighter. You let go of his hand and run your fingers up beneath his white cotton v-neck, his ab muscles flinching under your touch. You help him remove his shirt, taking in the way his pale skin shines under the moonlight.

Seeing you look at him makes his cock twitch in his pants, and you think it’s time to provide him some relief.

You scoot back and start to undo his belt, getting low and staring up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches when you make eye contact with him, and then it starts to pick up as you undo the button and zipper. You shimmy down the denim, but leave his black boxer-briefs where they are.

You come back up to the waistband after releasing his jeans, and you take the elastic in between your teeth. You tug them down with your teeth while your hands pull them on the sides. His erection springs free, and he sucks in a fast breath when his cock meets the cool air. You take the opportunity to let your warm breath ghost over his throbbing cock, coaxing a deep groan from Yoongi. He puts his hand to your cheek, and you look up to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think I can last if you put me in your mouth, baby girl. We can do head next time,” Yoongi says, and your heart soars at the pet name. You ease back up so that you’re straddling him once more, and reflexively start to grind on him again.

“Please let me take care of you. Look how wet you are,” he says, running his fingers over your clothed slit, dipping one finger in to collect a bit of slick. He tastes his finger and says. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to need to do head next time.”

You blush at the thought of him buried between your thighs, vulgarly slurping up everything you have to give him. You clench just thinking about it, and Yoongi notices. He pulls your panties to the side, takes the head of his cock and presses it to your clit, teasing your entrance. His precum mixes with your wetness, and you can’t resist him any more. You’ve resisted him for years, and you’re done.

You slowly ease yourself down on his cock, only making it halfway down before you have to wait for you to adjust. You both look at each other; Yoongi’s jaw is set and his eyebrows are furrowed together. Your mouth drops open as you raise and lower yourself again, feeling the delicious stretch that accompanies it. You bottom out and begin setting a slow and gentle pace.

Your body is rolling steadily, moonlight creating beautiful shadows on your body as you take him in over and over. As many times as you’ve dreamed of this, you still didn’t fathom it being this good or it feeling this right.

Yoongi is everything you had imagined he would be and then some. The way he is looking up at you, the way his soft little moans escape every time you bottom out, the way his eyebrows furrow together at the sight of your dripping heat enveloping him. Perfection.

He takes his hands and trails them up the curve of your waist, stopping just below your breasts. He runs his thumbs over your nipples, making you shudder and arch your back, pushing your chest into his hands. He palms them, kneading little circles around your areolas.

You lean forward, putting your weight on him again, and he meets you eagerly with another kiss. He wraps his arms around your back, keeping himself under the jacket, and you pick up the rhythm. Yoongi scratches his nails all the way down your back. Once he gets to your ass, he cups it, squeezing gently. You place your forehead against his, and your eyes meet.

“Y/N,” he whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you look so beautiful on top of me like this. Please let me see this sight for the rest of my life.” You whimper at the praise, and pick up the pace.

“Please,” he continues, small grunts mixing in with his words, “Don’t wake up tomorrow and pretend like this never happened. Please... don’t break my heart,” he pleads.

“Not a chance, Yoon. I can never let you go. You’re everything to me. You’ve always been.”

“Baby, I am so close. Can I--”

“Come with me, Yoongi. Let’s do it together,” you say. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips and he’s thrusting up into you with an unrelenting pace. At this angle, you can feel his head graze against your cervix with each thrust, sending white spots in your vision.

You both reach your end at the same time, breaths mingling as you come down from your highs. You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat gradually slow. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head and sighs into your hair.

“So…” he begins, “do you wanna go to the festival with me?” Yoongi asks.

“Are you gonna pick me up? Let me hold your hand? Have a nice little special romantic date?” you fire back, trying your best to sound like him. You sit up on your arm, letting your hair hang over to one side, and watch the light dance in his eyes as he laughs.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I might even get us a little snack from one of the desert vendors.”

[writertitan]

Midnight Snacks

pairing: eren x reader 

words: 2058

themes: college au, lots of fluff, eren being a little embarrassing with his gas station order 

requested by anon

Finals week had both you and Eren on high alert and in high panic. Truth be told, you didn’t need to really worry that much; you had prepared yourself for this all semester and had really kept up with your workload. Mostly, you were just stressed about the finals themselves and how, well, final they were. And so close together. A gift and a curse. You’d be done before finals week was even over. 

What really had you in a panic was Eren. The boy, bless his heart, was not apt for cramming. He’d kept up with his work like you had, but you knew him like the back of your hand; he was prone to leaving the harder things until the last minute. 

You glanced at your phone to check the time as Eren flipped back and forth between a page in his biology textbook, grumbling to himself under his breath. It was almost 12:30 in the morning and both of you had been at it all night, cramming and rememorizing things just to be prepared, and Eren especially was deep in concentration. You smiled to yourself as you watched his brows furrow even more than they already were, a feat you thought impossible. Just as you set your phone down to continue your own last-minute preparations, Eren sat up straight with a growl and pushed his textbook off your bed with his knee. 

“I feel like my head’s about to explode,” he complained, flopping over onto your lap. His eyes found yours immediately and he pouted as he reached up to stroke your cheek, then turned his head to glare at your textbook, as if personally offended by it, and pushed it off your bed to join his own. 

“Eren,” you whined, about to push his head off your lap, but he stopped you by reaching both hands up to cup your face. 

“C’mon, let’s just take a small break. We’re probably gonna be at this for a few more hours,” he said, fingers lightly caressing your jaw to entice you into going with his plan. You pondered it, then thought about arguing back with him about needing to study, but then realized he was probably right. All of this endless cramming with no break was just going to end up in you not retaining any of it. 

“Just a small break,” you relented, giving him a warning stare. He sat up, much brighter now, and pulled you off your bed immediately. He stretched his legs out and then reached his arms up to the ceiling for a full body stretch, already in a better mood. 

“Let’s go buy some snacks,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in. “That’ll help with the brain juice.” 

You hated Eren’s term, brain juice, but you knew he had a point. You had to keep up your energy. 

“Okay, let’s go to the vending machines and pick something out,” you said, moving to put some shoes on. 

“There’s a convenience store just down the street, babe. Please can we go? Your dorm’s vending machines aren’t gonna cut it,” he said, the pout back again. You rolled your eyes playfully but again relented, happy to just get out of your dorm room for a second. 

“Okay, fine. But you’re not supposed to be here, remember? It’s way past visiting hours. We have to be so sneaky,” you said, voice already lowering to a whisper. If you’re RA found out you’d been holing Eren up in your dorm well past 10pm, she was going to lose her mind. 

Eren made a show of zipping his lips and acting stealthy, which made you snort. You grabbed his hand after putting on shoes and jackets, and carefully slipped out to start your trek to the convenience store. 

You had to admit, it was a nice idea. And Eren was right, your vending machines didn’t hold a candle to all the other savory treats you really wanted. 

The night was a little breezy, but the impending summer weather kept the spring chill at bay. Eren had your hand engulfed in his, fingers laced as he swung your hands lightly, other hand messing with his loose bun. The night wrapped around him beautifully, streetlights casting glows that defined the most handsome parts of his face. 

He caught you staring after a minute of him being deep in thought, and you flashed him a mischievous grin which he returned.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased, the lame phrase making you giggle. 

“Okay,” you said cheerily, which took him off guard. You pulled your hand from his and giggled again at his confusion, before moving to stand behind him, hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders and give a small tug to make him stop walking. He knew immediately what you were getting at and crouched down enough to let you hop on, catching you easily and gripping your thighs as you wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Your other hand reached into your pocket to pull out your phone and you wasted no time in pulling up the camera app, jutting your arm out so you could capture Eren’s face right next to yours, the two of you flashing cheesy and ridiculous smiles as you snapped the picture. The automatic flash activated due to the low lighting and Eren whined and blinked, squeezing his eyes shut as the flash went off. 

When you looked at the end result, you showed Eren with a pleased laugh. You looked fine, all smiles and bright eyes. Eren, on the other hand, had blinked a little too soon. His eyes were shut, eyebrows raised, a dopey grin on his face that matched yours. 

“Delete that,” he complained, letting go of one thigh to try to reach for your phone. You were too fast, however, and eased it back into your jacket pocket. “Babe, delete it!”

“Nope! That’s my new favorite picture of us.” 

“I’m not buying you any snacks once we get there.” 

A lie, completely. If anything, Eren would play the little devil on your shoulder and egg you on in just a few minutes, into making not-so-smart choices. Why choose between the chocolate and the gummies when you can have both? 

You moved to hop off once you were in front of the store, but Eren’s grip tightened on your thighs. You angled your head to give him a confused glance, which he ignored, but he turned his head to peck your lips. 

“We’ll be quick. You’ll be my hands,” he said, and you rolled your eyes at his words, but hid your big smile into his shoulder. You knew he could feel the way your lips turned up over the thin fabric of his jacket and even thinner shirt. 

“Alright, what do you want?” you asked him, letting him lead you where you knew he’d go first: the Lunchables. 

“Ham and cheese and crackers, please,” he requested, but you already knew that and were grabbing at it with one hand. He kissed your wrist as a thank you and then asked, “Okay, what are we getting you? The usual?” 

“Yes, please,” you hummed, nuzzling into his neck as he made his way over to your preferred snack of choice. And, after grabbing two drinks, your hands absolutely full, you made your way to the counter to pay. The clerk gave you a bored look, not at all interested in the sight in front of him, and rang up your items slowly and announced your total. 

A contest as always, you and Eren both reached for your wallets. He somehow managed to be quicker, mostly because you were trying your best not to lose your balance as you held onto him with one arm and fished around for money with the other, and you grumbled as he paid for both of you. 

You held onto the bag as you exited the convenience store, again trying to hop off, and again being secured in place by Eren’s tight grip. 

“Aren’t you getting tired?” you asked him, genuinely curious, but Eren nearly guffawed at the question. 

“Are you joking? I wouldn’t even consider this a warm-up, babe. Carrying Jean’s blacked-out ass home after a party, though... that’ll make me break a sweat. I don’t know how he’s so fucking heavy.” 

You giggled, vividly remembering one of those times, and you rested your head on Eren’s shoulder after letting a yawn slip out. 

“I wish we didn’t have to go back to studying after this,” you pouted, pressing a pouty kiss into Eren’s shoulder. “I hate finals.” 

“Let’s eat our snacks before we get back to it,” Eren compromised. “My brain still feels heavy with knowledge. I gotta let it soak it all up.” 

“Always saying the weirdest things,” you teased him, squealing at the pinch on your thigh. 

Sneaking up to your dorm room was as easy as sneaking out, and you pulled Eren for a quick kiss as soon as the door locked behind you. You tossed the bag onto your bed and then began fishing your snacks out once your shoes and jacket were off and you were both able to situate more comfortably on your bed. Eren held you in his lap as he leaned back against your wall and browsed through his phone, the two of you watching dumb compliations on YouTube while you snacked. It was nice to turn your brain off just for a while, to rest up and come back to studying rejuvenated. 

His hand would occasionally sneak up your neck and grab at your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as he pressed tender kisses to your temple. You shared your snacks and really took your time with finishing, letting yourselves soak in your study break. 

“Thanks for making me take a break,” you told him, leaning your head back against his chest. “I forget sometimes.” 

“I know you do,” Eren chuckled, squeezing you into a hug and pressing you into his chest even more. He noticed yet another suppressed yawn from you and hummed in acknowledgement, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. 

“I can’t go to sleep, I have to keep studying,” you said, beating him to it. 

“You’re studying for your final tomorrow and it’s not even until noon. You know a really important habit before taking a big test is to get enough sleep before it.” 

Damn it. You hated when he used logic against you. 

“Fine, but just a nap,” you grumbled, sitting up to grab at your trash and discard it in your bin. You set an alarm and gave Eren a tired smile. “I’m gonna drag you down with me, though. You need to sleep too.” 

Eren scoffed, his voice a little panicked when he spoke again. “No way. Unlike you, I have to cram. I’m nowhere near ready for my final tomorrow.” 

“Yours isn’t until the afternoon,” you pointed out, hitting him back with the logic he’d used on you. “Like you said, a good habit is to get plenty of sleep before a test.” 

Eren sighed, but you could tell he wasn’t going to argue with you. He looked just as tired as you and the two of you arranged yourselves in your cramped bed to doze off, if only for a little bit. 

His hands found your hair and he played with it softly as you both curled up into one another. 

“Love you,” he murmured, drowsy already, and you smiled to yourself, head on his chest with your hand tracing loving circles at his torso. 

“Love you too,” you answered, warming at the soft touch of his hand on your chin. He tilted your head up to steal a quick kiss to your lips, then to your nose. You closed your eyes and let yourself relax, about to really drift off when you felt Eren shift under you. 

Your ears picked up the quiet sounds of Eren taking your phone from your nightstand. You peeked an eye open, careful to stay quiet lest you arouse suspicion, and resisted the urge to let a huge grin overcome you as you watched him go to your camera roll, tap on the ridiculous picture you’d taken earlier, and send it to himself.